4. Burned Nest

First step: avoid Fleshfeasters. Second step: don’t die. Third step: run quickly, even if your legs don’t want to. All other steps: avoid Fleshfeasters.

His leg hurt and sank deep into the swampy ground. The biggest problem, of course, is that he had never run before in his entire life. Maybe as a little child, but that was long ago. He’d seen others do it—and now he tried to imitate those movements.

No time to look behind. The rapid steps seemed to come from all around, as if the Fleshfeasters had encircled him. What else could he do? If you’d asked him yesterday, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine that an animal would eat another animal. Now that his skin was sick, and slowly damaged itself, he could almost feel what it would be like to be bitten to death. Such nightmares helped him run for a while, but at some point his body had to give up.

Namely when he bumped into the start of a mountain. Had this always been here? Pretty sure it wasn’t. Only yesterday he lay on a stone and could see the entire valley—with no mountain in the way. Sharp tips? Living mountains? FLESHFEASTERS.

He turned around and ran the other way. Cross the Nightriver. He’d never been on the other side. He had never even tried crossing it, for everyone knew bearded dragons were quick to drawn. As a baby he’d heard, every night, the traditional warning.

Who wants to keep their meat, needs to remember this in time of need. Stay away from river shore or you will quickly live no more.

If the legends were true, the Fleashfeaster nest was around here. He was far from the safety of gods or bystanders. But not far from the Fleshfeaster chasing him.

He tried to come up with new steps. Step one: climb into a tree. Step two: big, stupid Fleashfeaster can’t climb tree. Step three: wait until he goes away. Step four: he doesn’t go away, what now?

This wasn’t helping. What was he supposed to do? This was not fair. He couldn’t protect himself, outside of a beard that could blow up. As if that was threatening. He’d reached the limits of his stamina, unable to draw more breath, perhaps because of that persistent lump in his throat. In his panic, he’d lost count of how many insects he accidentally slowed.

Night fell. His painful paws climbed onto a pile of stones arranged in a neat line. His body gave up and fell flat on the stone. Flat enough that he hoped he was invisible. He wanted to sleep, but couldn’t when a hot breath and sharp teeth could be next to you at any moment.

For the first time in his life he wished, no begged with all he had, that somebody was here to protect him. If Higgis was still alive, he had to come back. Even though the lizard was silly and dumb enough to still get eaten. Even that was better than shivering, alone, on a cold stone.

Bearded dragons are cold-blooded creatures, dear reader, so he was unable to keep himself warm. He took over the temperature of the environment. And that was currently a cold, dark, frightening night. Although … a small dot of light appeared in the distance.

Magim awoke. He had slept after all, but must have woken up in a panic, as he was still able to see a Sandbeing run away.

He checked if all his body parts were still there. Yes, but his sick paws weren’t healing. He had to go to the gods, ask Feria to heal him. Why was he just sleeping and resting? Why—

Why was there light over there?

It was only a small dot, but a firefly would never be strong enough to create so much light. Fleshfeasters wouldn’t give themselves away like that, right? They wanted to stick to the shadows. Maybe this was a god or someone fighting those monsters. He quickly decided there was better than here, and was satisfied with his decision as soon as he felt the warmth of a fire.

It wasn’t a fire that burns down a forest, or attacks everything around it, but one that neatly stayed in place. So it had to be Ardex the Firegod! He shuffled towards the warmth, past dry twigs on the floor and cracked tree trunks that smelled of blood.

Unless Ardex had suddenly changed into a different animal, this wasn’t him.

Magim pressed himself flat against a tree, no thicker than a hair, as more creatures sought the light. The animal controlling the fire was clearly the largest. Their leader? They all came to him. Even animals who looked like him: small, non-threatening, probably unable to eat meat.

All of that changed after one touch from the Leader.

The animals formed a row, a Losslizard at the front. That was a lizard, dear reader, who missed a few legs. An early predecessor to snakes: a Proto-snake. They hobbled more than they walked, and weren’t as dangerous or poisonous as they’d become later.

One by one, the Leader tapped their forehead with his snout. Each time those gigantic jaws moved down, Magim feared he’d just eat them again.

But he never did: he turned the creatures into Fleshfeasters.

The metamorphosis started a few heartbeats after the touch. The Losslizard grew long teeth, like Ardex’ tusks, but more straight and pointy. A Forefrog received an even bigger body. A lizard received claws sharp enough to accidentally wound herself.

Not a word was said. No spell cast, no deal made. The Leader growled and barked once; the fires extinguished themselves and the new Fleshfeasters all left in different directions. The Leader trudged away too.

Magim wanted to push himself into the tree. That Proto-snake slithered in his direction, eyes wide and shiny, as if fire was behind them. You don’t see me, he thought. Losslizards also have bad vision, right? Right?

The Losslizard didn’t see him. But fear, pure fear, could be smelled by a Fleshfeaster from a distance.

Magim blinked. The Protosnake had suddenly moved, twisted itself around the trunk, and was ready to devour him from above. Stop it! Let me be safe! I want—step one: I become a Fleshfeaster myself.

Just as the Protosnake dove onto him, Magim rolled himself to the Leader. His attacker was left with teeth stuck in the dirt.

“I want to become a Fleshfeaster too!” he yelled.

The Leader turned his head slowly. He looked most similar to funny Darus, but different—much less funny. Magims heart raced. The creature sniffled at him, his snout larger than Magim’s entire body.

Then he shook his head and walked away.

“Why not? Why not me? I like you!” He tried to imitate the Leader’s walk. He imitated the wild look in their eyes—very well, he thought—and the rapid leaps they made when they saw tasty prey.

“Yes. You’re already a Fleshfeaster,” the Leader said in a kind but confused tone. Then he sprinted away at full force.

Magim still stood at the center of a clearing, surrounded by fresh Fleshfeasters looking for their first taste of meat.

The Losslizard had freed himself and slithered towards him. A Forefrog leapt at him; Magim rolled backwards to prevent being squashed.

“I am not a Fleshfeaster yet!” he yelled. The Proto-snake wrapped around his front paws, until he saw the ill skin and pulled away, as if afraid it was contagious. The others closed in on Magim.

It stalled just enough time for a new creature to run past and kick Magim’s attackers far away. The creature seemed a giant compared to the new Fleshfeasters. They scrambled to their feet and fled.

Higgis bumped into two trees and hugged a twig.

“I looking for you!” He probably thought he was hugging Magim, who quickly swallowed a few buzzing flies to calm himself.

A long, tired sigh escaped Magim. He was safe. Safe. He’d always been safe, his entire life, but only now he actually felt how great it was. “What happened? How did you get away? How did you find me?”

Higgis’ face was scared and covered in droplets of blood. “They attacked. Five Fleshfeasters! Huge, spitting fire, claws big as trees, and wings made of leaves, and they also looked like fish floating in the air, and I couldn’t save those frogs, and—”

“Your eyes are terrible, aren’t they?”

“My eyes perfect. Don’t believe? You just saw!”

“Their claws weren’t as large as trees.”

Higgis frowned. He really believed what he just explained.

“What do I look like to you?” Magim asked.

“A large Losslizard with sharp teeth and five tails. Of which two tails …” He studied Magim’s sick skin a little longer and then looked pained, biting his lip. “Would you not … solve that?”

Magim walked on. Higgis joined as if he were his guard, four times as tall. “Sorry, Higgis, but I really think your eyes are bad. I’m just a tiny Bearded Dragon, a lizard with a beard. And I am going to solve my sickness, because we’re going to visit the gods together.”

“Together?” Higgis’ face lit up. When Magim waved his tail, as a gesture of friendship, he playfully nipped at it again.

“Yes.”

They walked through the dark for a while. Magim was mad at himself. Had he really asked to become a Fleshfeaster? Then … then he would have eaten Higgis! Or other bearded dragons! Biting other creatures. Eating their meat. He should have felt disgusted, unable to even consider it, but now he also felt curious. Would it be tasty? Would it make him stronger and larger, like Higgis thought?

Magim had to regularly redirect the lizard to prevent walking into a tree. Higgis often reached for insects, or leaves, or nuts, only to miss them repeatedly. He didn’t mind—at least, not until Magim had pointed it out. Now Higgis sighed and gave up whenever he missed again.

“My eyes are bad,” he mumbled. “Maybe won’t even see when Fleshfeaster attacks. Are trees even trees? Do fish exist!? Not know anymore.”

“I will help you—”

Their cooperation would immediately be tested. A large group of animals raced over the land, far too fast and strong to be herbivores, straight at them.