I have my bow. Bann and Lian both have spears. Anything to keep us as far away from the teratome as possible. This is the first time we get to hunt one. Lille probably could have taken it out by herself, but that’s not the point. Ral finally decided we’re ready and I’m not going to let him down. No way.

  Lille crouches ahead, a shadow amidst the trees. Silent, stark, dangerous. Her hatchets are tied tightly to her hips, so as not to clink or snag on anything as she moves.

  Bann is behind me. He’s holding his breath, staying absolutely still. Sensible, as he’s the clumsiest of us all and any movement is bound to be a step into some hole or a stumble into a dry branch. Lian is behind him. She’s not as quiet as Lille, not as good with the bow as me, but she brings the team together in a way that just doesn’t happen if she’s not around. A joke here, a nudge there, herself always where she’s needed most. I’ve been trying to practice doing it too, but she’s still better.

  It’s funny how Bann is still the clever one out of the two.

  The monster moves between the trees, rustling and chittering. I shut out other sounds and focus. There’s a squelch, a thunk of something piercing the ground, snorting and grunting and munching.

  Based on the cacophony of different sounds, I have no idea what to expect, but then we reach the edge of the clearing and I see the thing. It stands as tall as a pony, but wider. The central mass is gooey and see-through, like the disgusting head cheese Drun sometimes makes. Muscles flex and move under the clear gelatinous mass. Veins pump red and blue, connecting from one muscle and unidentifiable organ to another. The sight almost makes me retch. There’s no head. Just two tentacles at its front end, ending in mouths with terrifyingly human-looking teeth. The chittering is caused by the tangles of bug-like legs. There are four tangles in each corner of the body, with four or five legs on each. All bunches of legs twitch in tandem, connected to a single knot of muscle.

  “Yuck,” Lian says.

  Lille glances back at us. She looks exactly like she would sigh, if the glance wasn’t a warning for us to be silent.

  I wince both at Lille’s glance and the sight of the monster. Still, based on what people have told me about teratomes, it could be even worse. At least there are no screaming human faces or packs of squirrels somehow lured in and half melded into its flesh. I always thought those stories were just something to frighten the kids with, but looking at the monster in front of us now, they are suddenly easier to believe.

  The teratome’s mouth-tentacles roam the area in front of it, blindly groping and slapping against things. Its mouths bite into whatever they slap into, bark, underbrush, and actual rock. The screech and grinding of the teeth clamping down on the rock make cold shivers run down my spine.

  We’re edging closer. Lille first, now with hatchets free and held in both hands. Bann has let himself fall behind a bit, so as not to notify the beast before it’s time to attack. With his legspan, he can cover the distance well enough when it’s time to do that.

  Lian pulls ahead, in step with Lille. She’s squeezing her spear hard, where Lille holds her hatchets in an easy grip. Bann steps on something crunchy and Lian groans at the sound before she can catch herself.

  The look Lille gives them would peel paint off a wall. The teratome doesn’t react, though. I already realized it must be blind, as we’re in plain sight, but can it be deaf as well?

  Lian mouths an apology, but Lille just waves us to keep on going. She points at me and then to the teratome. I squint at what she’s pointing at and glance back at Lille. Still holding a hatchet, she dangles two fingers down and wiggles them. I understand and nod at her. I nock the arrow and take aim. It’s impossible to know where the vital spots of a teratome are, so you have to start with something that sticks out or will stop it from fighting back.

  Lian takes one more step, and the teratome goes still. Something about her step got the thing’s attention. Its tentacles jerk up and clack their teeth. It sounds like Bann when he snaps his jaw shut at night sometimes when he sleeps, except the noise keeps going and is even more horrible. I take aim at one of the tentacles and glance at Lille. She digs her heels into the ground where she’s standing, holding one hatchet to the side to let us know to keep still as well. She nods her head at me.

  The arrow pierces both tentacles right at the stalk. I hoped that it would, but I’m still beyond proud of the shot. The first tentacle gets pinned on the second one by the arrow. The sound is a wet splat, not a clean thunk like I’m used to. The tentacles thrash about around the arrow, probably doing more damage to themselves than the arrow did.

  The sound the teratome makes is a trumpet, a fart. It bubbles out from the mouths, spitting black blood into a haze. It goes wild. Its legs kick, throwing clumps of dirt and bark into the air. They are like bunches of twigs, but sharp and bony and heavy. I shudder at the thought of one of us getting kicked. The points of the legs cut through the air as I try to find a new target to shoot.

  Lille is faster. She throws one hatchet and it hits the monster on the flank, just at the base of one clump of legs. The axe bites deep, but not enough. It sticks in the goo and dangles, being jerked around while the teratome bucks, before getting thrown aside on the ground. The moment the hatchet lands with a thunk, the teratome slams one bunch of legs down on it.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “It senses movement!” Lille shouts.

  The teratome pays no mind to the shout, but turns towards Lian, who is getting nearer. She stabs at the thing with her spear, keeping herself as far away from it as possible. Getting splattered by teratome blood is always a risk. It might be poisonous or it might stick on you and start growing a new small teratome on the place it landed. Gran once told a story about boiling teratome blood to purify it, but when I asked Lille about it, she told me to purify my ears instead. It sounded too gross to be real, anyway.

  Lian’s spear sinks into the goo and nicks some organ inside. The teratome kicks back at her with both of its hind-leg-bunches. One leg nearly catches her, but she deflects the kick with the shaft of her spear. She winces and curses, taking multiple steps back. She looks at the spear with eyes wide while stumbling. “It nearly cut through!” She shouts at us.

  “Stop moving!” Lille shouts at her.

  It sounds like an insane thing to shout at someone who’s next to a thrashing teratome, but Lian does. Lille has trained us for years. The earth shakes as Bann thunders past me, his stomping echoing off the trees. The teratome swings around to face him, nearly brushing against Lian as it does.

  Bann and the monster look like they are about to crash together like two battering rams. Lille opens her mouth to shout something, but closes it as Bann slams the butt of his spear into the ground and braces. The teratome runs straight into it. The shaft bends and bends, the point of the spear struggling to pierce into the goo, the teratome struggling to push itself into the point. Tentacles thrash and snap at Bann and the spear, spraying blood from the wounds caused by the arrow still pinning them together at the base.

  Bann kicks at the ground and jumps backward, leaving the spear in the teratome. Lille cocks her head to the side and hmphs, a rare sign of approval.

  I don’t have time to be impressed. The teratome is now still, standing sideways to me, half-skewered on the spear. Arrow nocked, I pull the string back and aim at the seeping cut in the goo where Lille’s hatchet struck. I let go, the string twanging next to my ear. I hit the gash directly, and the arrow sinks deep. The leg buckles and twitches, but the teratome keeps its balance and doesn’t topple over.

  Not before Lian comes in from the other side and reaches to poke at its front-leg with her spear. It reacts by trying to kick her with the leg, but the poke was just to get its attention and Lian is too far for the kick to connect. The attempt leaves the teratome with just two legs on the ground at its opposite corners. It tilts to push its weight on the injured leg, which givesway. The beast trumpets as it crashes into the ground.

  The legs swing and the tentacles snap at all movement. Still, it’s down and we have the range advantage. I keep shooting arrows at the legs. It feels unsporting. Cruel even. Still, teratomes don’t get to be treated like real animals. They are not intelligent in the same way a fox or a deer are. Lille hacks big chunks out of the monster and it still keeps squirming. At the end, it’s more like a collection of pieces than a dead monster.

  Lille wipes her forehead with her sleeve and wrinkles her nose at a stain of teratome blood on it. “Great. Burning this thing is going to be a pain in the neck,” she says, nudging a chunk of goo on the ground with her boot.

  The chunk keeps wiggling for a long while afterward.

  Once a teratome gets big enough to be a problem, they just keep on getting bigger and weirder. They have no natural predators, so we have to step in before they turn truly dangerous. In the village, they still tell the story of a teratome that had a bear as its front side. It was as quick and angry as any real bear and a real terror to kill. One hunter did not come back from that hunt. Lille chewed out the wizard for a full half an hour for letting the thing be that long before informing the village.

  I was eavesdropping outside of the inn. You could have made out most of it even if you weren’t trying. I learned a lot of new words then, even if using any of them would get me scolded. I spot a tree stump, wrenched up from the ground. It’s near to the path and the rest of the tree has been cut and taken away, but I could probably get the stump free and lift it.

  We always have to clean up after the wizards. And by we, I mean our village. This was my very first teratome hunt. I haven’t done anything more exciting than hunt deer in the nearby forests before this.

  Our village has been the home for hunters for as long as anyone remembers. We’re near to the city, so there’s always a market for the meat, and because the city is Tenorsbridge, there’s always also something escaping some research lab or summoning circle or something.

  In addition, many adventuring teams come through our village to look for a hunter to run with them. Ral was an adventurer back in his day. Even so, or because of it, Lille says adventuring is for fools.

  I want to be one when I grow up.

  Seeing different places has always been a dream for me. Helping people, being like the heroes in the stories. Lille says that none of the stories about the heroes are true, because telling the true stories would be so boring. Just “and then he died in a ditch” or in a cave or a side street or a forest and so on and so on.

  Some make it back, though.

  I would.

  I reach the camp. The smell of burning goo hangs heavy in the air, like someone set fire to a lavatory. The stump is heavy, and I’m happy to finally roll it from my arms to Bann’s. He swings and tosses it on top of the pyre that’s already roaring. Lian is going through the underbrush, looking at pieces of the teratome to toss in as well. They’ll poison the ground or grow a stupid teratome flower or something.

  “Look, the shaft very nearly snapped,” Lille says to Bann, brandishing the spear at him.

  Bann smiles, waves a big hand. “It didn’t, though. I was sure it wouldn’t.”

  Lille groans and rolls the spear around in her hand. “It was still too risky. It would have run right over you.”

  “They hunt boars like this too,” Bann says in defense. Always a bad move.

  Lille’s gaze snaps to Bann and she walks up to him. She pokes him in the chest while talking, driving him backwards. “They have a different kind of spear for that. They’re heavy, made for bracing, and have wings to keep the boar where it’s supposed to stay. And a teratome is larger than a boar.”

  “Well, it work—“ Bann begins, but finally comes to his senses. “Sorry, Lille.”

  She pinches the bridge of her nose with her hands, closing her eyes. “It’s fine. Just… use your brain the next time.”

  “I thought I did,” Bann mutters.

  I glance at Lille, worried about her reaction. She lets go of her nose and blinks, watching Bann, her expression unreadable.