The dog inches closer, its emaciated body trembling, drawn by the smell of the veal.
"It's okay… easy," Heines murmurs, keeping his movements slow. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The dog lowers its head and begins to eat.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound grows louder—thicker. Wet. Wrong.
Heines frowns. "What is that…?"
He squints toward the back of the market. A dark liquid seeps from the shadows behind the dog, pooling across the grimy floor.
"That's not water," he mutters, his stomach tightening.
The shadows begin to shift.
No… not shift. Move.
"Maria," he says quietly, not taking his eyes off the darkness. "Get ready."
The dripping intensifies.
Then something pushes out from the blackness.
First, a pair of thick, muscular legs—swollen, twisted, covered in patchy fur stretched over bulging muscle.
Heines' breath catches. "You've got to be kidding me…"
A torso follows, massive and scarred, ribs flexing beneath tight skin. Then two enormous arms slide free, claws scraping against the tile with a metallic screech.
Finally, its head emerges.
A long, pointed snout. Yellowed fangs. Beady, black eyes that gleam with cruel awareness.
The Rat Giant straightens to its full height—nearly eight feet tall—its shadow swallowing the trembling dog whole.
"Move," Heines whispers to himself. "Move now."
He lunges forward, grabbing the dog by the scruff. It yelps as he swings it behind him.
"Samuel! Take it and run!" he shouts.
The creature shrieks—high, piercing, furious—and launches forward.
"Come on then!" Heines growls, raising his katana.
He barely gets the blade up.
The claws slam into his chest.
Pain explodes through him. The impact lifts him off his feet and sends him crashing through the already broken market wall. Wood and brick give way as he's hurled into the next building.
He hits the ground hard, glass cutting into his hands.
For a moment, he can't breathe.
"What the—fuck," he coughs, tasting blood. "Come on, Heines. Get up!"
His katana slips from his numb fingers and clatters away.
Through the dust and the hole in the wall, the Rat Giant steps into view.
It pauses.
Its head turns slowly toward the dog, now whimpering in fear.
The creature sniffs the air.
Hungry.
"No," Heines rasps, forcing himself onto one knee. "You're not touching it."
The rat's eyes shift back to him.
It shrieks again—this time lower, eager—and begins stepping through the rubble toward him.
"Yeah," Heines mutters, wiping blood from his mouth. "That's right. I'm still here."
The creature's lips curl back, saliva dripping from its fangs. Heines swallows hard, trying to think. *What can I do?*