Chapter 213: Homecoming (7) – Rambert
Several days earlier
A frog hopped atop a protrusion jutting out of the mud, its rhythmic croaks echoing within the depths of the bog. Big mistake on its part…
Suddenly, a mound of dirt surged outwards, startling the poor creature. Frightened, it leapt away, trying to escape. But it wasn’t nearly quick enough. Catching up in an instant, the object snapped shut around the frog, trapping it in an iron grip. Over the next second or two, the critter visibly shrivelled, its very life sucked right out of its tiny frame. Its skin sank inwards, wrapping around the bones tightly. At the same time, mud flowed down the culprit, soon revealing a few patches of skin beneath the filth.
It was a person’s hand!
Though it wasn’t in much better shape than the frog. It was pale as milk, covered in lots of nasty cuts caked in dried blood. It was nearly desiccated too, the almost-skeletal fingers looking even worse than the critter did. At least, that was the case at first. Soon, the frog was reduced to nothing, its drained body crumbling into fine dust. It trickled through the gaps between the digits, scattering silently in the soft breeze.
With difficulty, Rambert pushed himself to his feet, coughing erratically as he struggled to spit the viscous sludge out of his lungs. The water’s texture was both slimy and grainy, the aftertaste of rot and decay making him gag. But that was the least of his problems. Even standing was painful, as one of his legs was injured badly, threatening to buckle. Looking up, he tried to locate the sun through the dense canopies of the trees around him.
‘It’s morning…’ he guessed, based on whatever gentle rays managed to pierce through the branches.
Orienting himself, he limped towards a certain direction, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. Next, he checked the stump on his shoulder. Blood still spilled from it, though it wasn’t as bad as before – mostly because he’d lost a ton already. If he didn’t have the physique of a Green, his body wouldn’t even be able to move right now.
Looking down at his clothes, he noticed they were torn from the fight. An even larger patch was missing right around where his insignia used to be. Ignoring that for now, he tore another strip out, wrapping it tightly around his shoulder, trying to halt the blood flow. It definitely helped a little, but it didn’t stop entirely.