From the moment he awakened he sharpened sticks.
An entire day, going until midnight, he readied dozens of sticks, two rocks, and by some miracle found a club with a hardened fungi on its end.
Peter believed it best to wait until dawn, when the gators and serpents were likely to be sleep.
"There'll be some, but not as many," Peter said, enjoying a cup of swamp brew. "Might even be a way to avoid them entirely."
"I know every way forwards and back here," he said, wishing the mad lad spoke some truth. "There's only one way out."
Soulless against the cliffs shivered or wept before falling asleep.
Pitiful as they were, they could be mustered with one strong enough. He handed a few sharp sticks, but they used them to scratch their itches. One scratched itself so much blood ran from its belly, though it didn't stop. Like a rapid dog, it grazed the pointy end of the stick spear until blood fell free, and in a few minutes time it stiffened.
"Three's company's probably for the best," Peter said, tending to the fire.
"You lead," he suggested, dawn just an hour away. "Ward them off much, then we'll stick 'em."
Al was frozen, deep in thought, staring at the fire.
He knelt beside her. "Don't know what kind of law woman you once were, but there's a couple of Embers and a good lad counting on us."
"Wasn't a very good lawyer," she said, wiping her eyes. "Many of the people I defended ended up doing hard time."
"Then, be a better fighter," he said, unsure what a lawyer was. "I made it out of here alone once, with three of us we c-."
"I'm not a fighter!" She snapped, startling even Peter. "I used a bow for a reason, and I've never been this far down!"
Tears filled her eyes.
A clout would do nothing, as he needed her healthy as possible. Even just a small cut could make a difference between reaching the other end of the swamp or getting an infection. Wounds spread faster, exhaustion lasted longer, and at some point there was nothing but twenty-meter-high ugly giants with empty stomachs.
"The Al who put a dagger to my throat?" He wondered. "Pulled a bow on me, and fought a demigod?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't have made it that far without the others, or you."
"You wanted to slay Alreion. You dragged me away from my hunt, determined more than any I've ever seen."
"And how far did I lead us? I failed to protect people from a crooked system, I failed to save thousands of lives from dragonfire. I fail every time, I'm always failing! I can't sto=."
He covered her mouth and grasped her bow arm.
"Then you've everything you need. It's the only way out. Trust me."
For over a minute she stared at him, eyes widening.
She cracked a smile, trying to hold in laughter. Once she let it out, she held her hands over her chest, crying with joy before using swamp water to cool her head.
Peter raised a fire on his staff.
He took up a few spears, as did Al, and the mad lad led the way.
Crickets chirped within the early morning. Branches swayed, a cool breeze he let kiss his neck, and for over a dozen paces there were no beaming eyes.
Jaws clamped his left leg, dragging him down.
He tried turning, but the gator spun, ripping off his lower leg. Part of his shin bone was still connected, but he cursed from the pain alone, trying to scramble his way up. Al stabbed the gator in the eye. It lashed her so hard she flew through the air, landing several paces ahead.
Fire roared, Peter waving his staff back and forth.
Over him, the mad lad reached down, and helped him stand on one leg. They made their way to Al together, at least what was left of her.
Pink innards, a few dark guts, and her head floating about, half her face skinned off.
He spat, cursing at the gators. They were too bust feeding, on what little meat Al had to offer, and it made no sense to him. For all the beasts hunger, they weren't in a rush for a proper meal, and he was almost insulted.
"My stomach's seasoned with ale if your wondering!" He shouted, slamming his stick spear into the water.
Hisses echoed, and Peter sighed, dousing his flame.
"Got an idea. See ya' in the morning."
Better be the best fucking idea of the age, he wanted to say, though he was already slung beneath water.
Two serpents, one taking his throat, the other his legs, tightened him until blood filled his eyes. Lungs filled with water, his belly burst open, blood filling the water. Like children fighting over a toy, the serpents pulled him apart. He didn't black out until watching a fanged fish nibble on his intestines.
Once awakened, he took up a spear, same as Al and Peter.
The trio didn't wait, Peter leading them out towards the southern side.
Dozens of paces and nothing, then a gator's jaws missed his face by inches. He thrusted for its belly, scratching it at best. Its tail sent him airborne, and he landed within a school of sharp toothed fish. Blood leaked form his forehead, and the school swarmed him. They nibbled everywhere, ears, armpits, between his legs, ripping apart his lips, and some tearing open his belly before burrowing inside. From the inside out fish, yellow jacks as Peter called them, bit him out, one swimming away with his heart.
Upon awakening he learned Peter separated from Al, waving his staff, drawing off all but one gator.
"I stabbed it through the eye, but," Al said, using a root to tie a rock to a stick, "It knocked me unconscious."
"Aye," he said, Peter wiping his staff with frog blood.
"Same principle as fishing," Peter said, rubbing his hands with frog blood as well. "I'll make myself into a fine delicacy, and you two break for the next shore."
"You sure about this?"
Peter grew a puzzled look, then nodded. "Wish there was more I could do for ya'."
"Come with us," Al pleaded, reaching for his hand, but he pulled away.
"Don't know what kind of lawyer you were lassie, but I'd wager you'd have done little to nothin' for just half of what I'd done."
She sighed, "Whatever it was, it's over. We're all in the same hell together."
Peter grew a concerned look. "No. Never over. Lord willing."
"Well what was it?" He asked, throwing up a hand. "You're dead set on staying anyway, may as well confess while you're at it."
Hesitant, Peter lit his staff, then looked towards the swamp.
"Was a thief for most of my childhood, then took up colors for a, guild so to say. Caused nothing but trouble for one of the largest cities in the world by the sea, and lost my life to a barrage of bullets, right after my twentieth birthday."
"Did you have a family?" Al asked, getting close to him, voice gentle. "Anyone who might've-."
"Aye, and I pissed 'em all away," Peter said in a hurry. "I'm here for good reason."
He'd find a way to convince him otherwise.
For all his own faults he didn't believe himself a criminal, as far as he knew. A soldier, a drunk, a fool, and little else, but not one to believe he deserved eternal torment.
Ahead of himself and Al by at least twenty steps, Peter didn't ignite his staff until a growl shook the water. Waist deep in thick moss ridden mud, more shit than water, the mad lad stomped high. Almost jumping with every step, he waved his staff. Each swing gave off a slight scent of toad, something flavorful compared to the privy pond.
Al at his side, he hurried onward, keeping parallel with Peter.
The mad lad yelped, jaws missing his legs by inches. Another lash made him stumble, then he drove a spear through a serpents belly. The python hissed, more so screeching, and gators clamped upon its near ten meter long body.
Dozens of gators lashed about, ripping chunks out the python before turning towards Peter.
Yellow jacks cut off the mad lad, nibbling on his shins, then gators drove them away. A spear bounced off a gators back, Al haven heaved it.
"Keep running!" She shouted.
Gators turned their way, and Peter cursed, damning the bitch for not saving herself.
It mattered little, as though the next shore was within reach, larger gators, mouths like a death trap of glimmering steel, growled ahead. He threw a spear, landing inches from a gators snout. It charged them, and they took up stances, spear beside spear, a wall of wooden pikes. Within striking distance they leaped away from one another.
The gator slammed down, its jaws like thunder creating small shockwaves.
Al threw her spear, gouging its eye. He ran into the other, driving his spar through, then following up with a rock within its snout. It lashed about, and he straddled it. Atop the beast, riding up and down, holding its jaws closed, he shouted to Al.
"The shore! The shore!"
She couldn't make it.
Gators, large as the beast he rode on, surrounded her. Though she ducked the first strike, the others crushed her legs, then she was torn in two.
After slinging the fungi club off his back he bashed the gator within its eyes. Again and again, he battered the eyes until blood ran from the beast, reddening the brown water. It fell silent, and the other gators fed on Al.
Peter was on the next shore, waving his staff.
He limped beyond the feasting gators, though stopped just before touching the shore.
A look toward one another, and Peter sighed.
The mad lad joined him, and they walked back into the waters, kicking the first gator nearest to them.
From head to toe they were ripped apart.
The morning passage was waiting, along with a reawakened friend.