Mugs was breathing heavily. The cannibal was too fast and too strong for a direct approach. His pistol was useless at this point, a shot wasted as he initially miscalculated the creature’s agility. It nearly cost him his life, and it still could.

The cannibal snarled. “The sweetmeat was right, it seems. Hmm… a difficult prey you are. All lean, no fat! Too chewy, ahmmm… you will die, aha, regardless!”

It lunged again and Mugs bolted, running back the way he had come. He didn’t stand a chance against it alone. He needed his partner.

“Shin, mate!” Mugs yelled, hearing the scrape of claws against the rocky floor. He twisted to look but that was a mistake. The cannibal was even more ghastly on all fours, its lurching stride catching up to him with an alarming pace. He threw himself out of the way in the next room just in time to miss another swipe of claws but was not so lucky with its teeth, which gnashed at his feet and managed to tear a good cut down his ankle, sending an explosion of pain rocketing up his left leg.

The cannibal crashed into a pile of rusted metal brackets almost comically, recovered quickly and licked its lips. It cackled, energized by the taste of blood.

“Shin!”

It attacked again, feigning a strike to his right before whirling left and slamming him to the floor with bubbly, thick-skinned arms, tearing a hole in his coat and sending another shock of pain burning into his shoulder. He was lying against the wall next to the woodburning stove, the cannibal leering over him with a renewed gleam in its eye. It laughed again before sinking one of its claws into Mugs injured shoulder, slowly. He screamed, and his vision became splotchy and dark, and his breath quickened, nearing hyperventilation.

This was it. Death would claim him soon.

“My my, aren’t you a strong one! How long you resist the Black Blood.” It twisted the claw deeper, causing Mugs’ body to shudder and his eyes to loll. “Where should I begin, hmm? Perhaps with the eyes, like sweetmeat, or…”

The cannibal choked, its muscles tensing briefly. Its eyes bore into Mugs with intense and fuming hatred, before it relaxed unexpectedly, the claw falling from Mugs’ shoulder, and the creature crumpled to the side. It exhaled one last time. And then it was dead.

“You okay?”

Shin stood over him, hand extended with a look of near parental concern on his face. His trousers were covered in some sort of brownish slime, and he was shirtless, covered in over a dozen cuts and grazes, his old tunic torn into strips for improvised bandages. His straw kasa hung at his back, a hole punctured through near its rim, loose straw poking out. Despite his alarming appearance, he was calm. As always.

Mugs groaned loudly. His vision was still horribly blurry but he had been able to steady his breathing. He clutched the wound in his shoulder, gritting his teeth. “Yep… bloody fantastic. Any more of these bastards around?”

“None alive.”

Shin helped him up gently, then motioned him to stay propped against the stove and disappeared around the corner. The cannibal’s corpse was still on the floor next to Mugs and an unnerving stench emanated from its blood. He limped to the other side of the room as Shin returned, bundles of garments of all varieties in his arms.