Her blade connected against the ant's leg. The metal sank through the exoskeleton like it's made of leather. The demon shrieked, swiping its other leg at Paris's head. She ducked and rolled out of the way. A shriek similar to the Xath'drahg reached her ears. Paris winced. Must all demons scream like unfed babies?

She turned just in time for the sharp mandibles to snap shut. Instincts took over, driving her away from the demon. Her dagger swung, connecting with one of the mandibles. With a scream of her own, she drove her blade further until the bone cracked.

The demon pushed back. Its bristle-covered legs burst forward. Paris, still locked in battle with the mandible, barely danced out of their reach. One slammed into her side and the force of thousands of Joyce's punches exploded against her gut.

She went weightless.

Then, she slammed against a tree. More pain gripped her spine.

Paris gasped against the swirl of spots dancing in her vision and the sharp ringing in her ears. Her hands were free. No weight of the dagger. Panic gripped her throat. The dagger. Where was it?

She grunted against the stinging in her torso and turned her body to her stomach. She squinted past the growing haze blurring her vision. The demon wasn't known to waste time like this. Come on. Where's her dagger? How could she let go of her weapon?

How could she let herself get kicked? It was heavily reminiscent of Joyce's hidden blows. Paris might have been able to dodge the first blow, but as always, a hidden and often more powerful blow was aimed from below.

Always from below.

Something whizzed in Paris's periphery. She twisted and rolled as fast as her throbbing body could allow. The mandibles got a whiff of her sleeve and clamped down at it. With a cry, Paris yanked her arm back, her leg swinging at the demon's lowered face. Her boot connected with the ant's beady eye.

The mandibles' hold loosened, the sudden absence of the force sending Paris stumbling back. The demon shook its head—something that wasn't very ant-like—and charged with renewed spite. Paris yelped and dove to the left, leaving it to slam against the tree that was once behind her.

Got it. Jezer'thokth weren't good at changing directions all of a sudden. Perhaps, Paris could use that to her advantage. No. Rather, she has to use it to her advantage, otherwise she dies here.

The demon reared and clicked its mandibles. Paris then noticed the damage she did to one of them. The clicks sounded wrong now. Unwhole. She might have hope in this demon-hunting business.

"Come at me, you cretin," Paris whispered under her breath. Unlike the last time, the urge to scream in fear was absent. That's another thing she had improved on. Instead of thinking of running, she was now facing the stuff of nightmares like it was merely a rampaging bull or a misbehaving heifer. Come on, then. From animals they came from, to animals they'd eventually wind back to.

The set of feelers stemming from the top of the demon's head twitched, no doubt smelling the air for traces of Paris's scent or movement. She raised an arm. It seemed to do the trick. The demon's head turned towards her and with yet another hungry shriek, it lunged. Paris then spotted her dagger lying a few feet and by the demon's path. A crazy idea budded in her mind.

The demon got closer to both her and her dagger. Paris met it halfway.

Just as the mandibles snapped at the spot where her head had just been, Paris folded her legs and dropped to the ground. Using her momentum from the fall, she slid underneath the ant. In a blur, she saw the demon's midsection whizz by her. The demon gave confused clicks.

Then, Paris extended her hand and snatched her dagger from the ground. She reached out, gripped one of the ant's leg, and swung her dagger. The blade connected. The leg snapped.

An ear-piercing cry speared through the quiet forest night.

Paris tucked her head in her arms as she scrambled away. Warm blood covered her, staining the grass, her hair, and her trousers. It dripped down her arm. Thankfully, it wasn't acid.

The demon whirled and zipped towards her. The rest of its legs made scratching noises against the grass. Oh yeah. An ant has six legs. Of course it would still be able to run with one less.

She swiped her dagger against one leg when the demon got to close. As if learning all her moves and what she was going after, the leg retreated a second too early. Her blade missed. What—

There was no time to stare or even process her surprise. Of course. Joyce did say some demons exhibit intelligence. She was unlucky enough to encounter such a creature now.

Another blow slammed against her arm. It wasn't strong enough to send her flying. She stumbled back nonetheless. She moved to raise her dagger but her fingers wouldn't follow. She ducked another leg swipe and another mandible clamp. Sweat dripped down her face as she dodged the best she could. One glance at her arm told her the ant had somehow succeeded in hitting some nerves. Already, a certain numbness crept up her arm. What was that? Did the ant just learn how to disable her limbs without cutting it off?

What the actual fuck.

Something dark and thin streaked in Paris's left. Another did from her right. She narrowly missed both. She couldn't afford to get hit again and the ant had five chances to punch her. She doubted her two meaty hands could do much damage to that hard exoskeleton. She couldn't even get close without her head being snapped away from her neck by the mandibles.

This was a good time to run, yes?

Paris didn't wait for anyone's approval. She turned and bolted.

Just like that, she was back to square one. And this time, there wouldn't be anyone who could save her.

Her feet skidded against the forest floor, the ant doing the same not a few paces behind her. She pushed branches out of the way before they could pierce her eyes. Some slapped her injured arm and poked her in uncomfortable places but never mind that. The ant was like the god of lightning even with five legs.

The cold went by unnoticed. Perhaps, the rest of the colony could warm up tonight by having themselves chased by a demon ant. Could work.

Paris didn't laugh at her own attempt at humor. Laughing was the last thing she would do now that she could actually by having her organs ripped out from under her.

She jumped over a fallen log. She looked back to see if the demon would slam against it. Instead, the ant lurched forward, leaping in the air and past the log like how she did.

Great gods. It's smart.

Paris turned and was about to throw her dagger as a last, desperate resort. She succeeded in pivoting with her ankle. Then, the ground vanished beneath her.

Wha—

Her world spun. She crashed against a lower floor. What lower floor? She's in a forest. As far as forests went, there were no other floors than the flat ground. Except...

Through the haze of pain muddling her vision, she spied four walls made of dark earth. A room. No. Not a room.

A ditch. She fell into a stupid ditch. Appeared in the middle of the forest and she was too busy running to see.

Her heart quivered. If she's here, then the demon—-

A shriek followed by the hulking shadow speared towards her. Paris shut her eyes and threw her arms around her head. Her legs gave out under her.

"Not so fast!" someone shouted over Paris. Perhaps the gods had mercy on her and decided to intervene?

A strong gust of wind blew past her face. Something wet and brittle thudded next to her ear with a sickening crunch. Everything stilled.

"Thank heavens I was able to catch up to you," the newcomer said through Paris's closed eyes. It was feminine and it sounded like it was far away. She's standing at the edge of the gorge? Most probably. "Are you alright?"

Paris opened her eyes and her heart almost stopped. Blood drained to her feet. A long, silver arrow protruded from the wall to her left. And etched in there...was the demon ant. Its brains had splattered in an ugly painting of smudgy white matter. It almost sparkled against the dark earth. Its leg twitched and bucked. One of its eyes had shattered where the arrow had pierced it, giving Paris the perfect view of what goes on inside its hollow skull. The stench of fresh guts and warm blood assaulted her nose.

She gagged.

"Can you climb up?" the woman who shot the demon said from above the ledge. Paris threw her messy hair, which had spilled all over her face in the chaos, to gaze at her rescuer. Then, her heart stopped for real.

Standing a few feet away from her was a slender woman with blond hair, dark skin, and a set of kind, brown eyes that Paris wouldn't ever forget in a long time. Because it was her. Against Paris's wildest dreams, it was her.

She had enough breath to gasp. "Vivian."