Snow White would probably be jealous if she saw something this white. The fog was a green screen projecting moving blank. Even when their shoulders bumped, neither could see the full outline of the other. The ground beneath them was nothing like it had been. It was smooth, solid, devoid of muck and petrified roots. For a moment, pluto thought the count had hit half and the forest had shifted them into the next trial, but the approaching heat signatures he saw brought him back to the grim reality of the hunt. In truth, both outcomes would have been grim, and this was actually better since he knew the metrics of this forest.
But for this place in particular, he was clueless. thick mist refracted sound, making judging distance by noise incredibly difficult. It was a game of luck for pluto, and and game of dependency for Saul. Saul could fight, he could get his way around a faster or stronger opponent, but he could not throw his blade if he could not even see what he was throwing. So, unfortunately, he would have to rely on Pluto.
Pluto steadied his breathing and let go of pain for a moment as his eyes fell shut. He dropped into the guidance of the eel. The white faded and was replaced by familiar gradients of pulsing warmth. The environment around them was mostly empty, offering no advantage, but it was damp enough to make anything with slight heat stand out heavily.
"Stay ahead, one o'clock," Pluto whispered in a distance tone. "Wait for my signal."
A scout approached like an arrow knocked out its bow, its edgy frame cutting through the mist. The eel swam across his forearm, tightening and tugging backwards with cold urgency. Pluto barrelled forward, streaking past Saul and into the path of the beast as it entered their immediate perimeter. The scout was moving too fast for him to be confident in a strike, so he didn't make one. He used his body instead, clashing shoulder-to-shoulder with the lean predator. The force threw Pluto back, his feet grooving across polished stone, but he didn't fall. The unexpecting scout had been hit harder, the break in its charge sending it tumbling.
"Saul, in front of you! Low!"
The words travelled slightly faster than the skipping predator did, reaching Saul with enough gap for him to strike. He swung in a blind arc. The scout's heat signature dimmed instantly, confirming the kill before the severed head did.
There was no time for celebration. As his eyes veered off the dying radiance of the scout, he caught sight of four massive shapes closing in. They were fat frames– massive hippo-like predators with fleshy, unprotected flanks, heavy enough to crush a man by accident. They moved in a loose formation, drawn unerringly to the beacon broadcasting on Pluto's shoulder.
"A few steps back, Saul! Strike on my command!"
Pluto stood at dead center, using himself as the ultimate, unfortunate bait. The predators ignored Saul wicked presence, solely focused on turning the host of the black brand into a pancake with veins.
"Now!"
Pluto had mistimed his prompt by a second's fraction. The fog bounced sound up and about, adding a bit of distance to it before Saul heard. By the time he moved, his blade only caught the neck of one. The lead beast slammed into Pluto, toppling him easier than a pack of cards. The next moment had a heavy chitinous foot down hard on his forearm with with force that should have rendered him handicap. Pluto didn't wait for Saul to come to his rescue, because Saul could most likely not see him clamped down. He bit on his tongue, pain flaring incandescent in his mind as he kicked again the coming foot, heaving the fat frame off him. Before it found good footing , Pluto lunged, striking the predator's flank in a frantic blur multiple times. Here was not the place to test for clean executions, so he went for the next best thing:
Desperate carnage.
In his fever, he ignored the silent tug for a heartbeat longer than he should have. He pivoted, but the second fat frame had already rammed into his ribs. He didn't fight force, he flew with it, using the momentum to knock the fourth beast off its feet. Saul arrived a second later, using the sound of a heavy crash to pinpoint his blade's bus-stop. It slipped into the predator's throat unceremoniously.
For a moment, the bitter taste of teamwork was back in Saul's mouth. A blind blade and a guiding eye. As much as he preferred otherwise, they would only survive by the grueling cycle of call and response. The predators were relentless, maddened by Pluto, and neglecting the empty space beside him where a ghost of steel waited.
"Three incoming, northwest! I'm occupied, step in!" Pluto shouted as a pack of shadow lynxes bounded towards him. Of course he wasn't really occupied, but Saul didn't know that, so he might as well enjoy his second pair of limbs.
Saul stepped in like Pluto had demanded, his blade flashing horizontally. He was becoming a puppet that moved when and where directed, something that would have been impossible mere hours ago. He felt one rush past his shoulder, only to meet the head of Pluto's oversized dagger centimetres later.
"The numbers are growing faster than we can thin," Pluto yelled with darting eyes, reading the warm fluctuations in the heat map. "The main paparazzi is almost here, and so is the tiger!"
Pluto lunged at a hyena-like scavenger that been a bit innovative to attack Saul, his weapon finding a lock in-between the creature's ribs. He tossed the writhing body forward, letting it impede the charge of a crag-back. He was in more pain than someone who was going through surgery without anesthetics, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't if he wanted to stay alive. He watched the greater hoard of heat approach, and in their mist, a signature brighter than the rest.
"Saul we need to move!"
"One more wave Pluto, hold on!" Saul roared back, his voice thick with the last of his spirit he held for a final jump.
A pair of crag-backs burst through the mist, throwing scything claws at Pluto's head. Pluto ducked under, shouting directions as Saul butchered a leg off one and hooked the seam in the knee of the other with his spare blade. Pluto finished them with lucky thrusts into the jaw mesh.
The roar that followed after told them their time was up. The tiger had entered the whiteness.
"Saul! Anyway but here!"
Saul grabbed Pluto by the collar, pulling him out of the horn that almost caught him. The world tightened again, but with a bit of desperation, as Saul poured the last of his usable spirit into the space jump.
They materialised with a hard fall on rough ground. The fog wasn't gone, but it was just as proportionate as usual. They were now in a rocky landscape, one with ridges, ravines and diversity in every stone.
Pluto rolled unto his back, gasping for air. His mark finally quieted in a dull throb. Saul laid nearby, his face marked with the pale reality of what they had endured. They were broken, covered in marks of a night spent in hell. They looked at each other. The staples of the forest were there; fear, bruises and exhaustion, but beneath them was something deeper. They had survived the unfaithful odds.
Despite blood and grime hanging in their sweat, they both smiled. Not sweet, not bitter, but that of men that had already written off their lives, only to remain breathing.
And waiting for what the forest had planned for them next.