A number of possibilities came to mind:

A) They were ignoring me.  

B) They took my warning to heart.

C) The grasshoppers had dined at last.

Then I heard a loud splash a few yards away, near the location of our campsite. A grunt. The sound of metal. And two more splashes.

I peeked over the side of the tree trunk and swore under my breath. Two armed figures waded down the edge of the stream. They wore old brown and navy military uniforms, muddied and bloodstained. Their faces were marbled with grotesque black veins and fissures, their skin the color of rot. They peered through eyes with no irises and no white corners. Just a gray, haunted film.

The demons had found us.

I pressed myself back against the tree, trying not to panic. My stuff was on the other side of the river: my clothes, my sword, my gloves. I wouldn't be able to reach them in time, and the monsters were wading closer.

They were going to find me sitting here, exposed and defenseless. I needed cover, now.

I slid up out of the water, grateful for the gentle rush of the river to muffle my movements. If I could just back away slowly...

"He came this way," one called, his voice uncomfortable to my ears, like someone scraping against the strings of the cello. He appeared on the opposite side of the riverbank, almost in direct sight of me. He didn't register my presence yet, but any second, he would turn—he would see. "I can sense him...and another..."

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, a claw clamped over my mouth—another appendage looping around my middle to restrain me. The creature pulled me back into the shrubbery, and after a moment of terrorized paralysis, I didn't waste any time. Tossing my shock to the floor, I began thrashing about, struggling, kicking, prepared to bite my way through its fingers.

Fight. Fight it off!

However, I quickly realized that the iron claw was, in fact, a hand. A warm, calloused hand with all five knuckles wrapped in fighting tape.

I stopped fidgeting at once and gazed cautiously, and a bit sheepishly, behind me.

Will glared down at me in the shadow of the thicket. He held up a stern finger to be quiet, and he peered around the bush to get a better look at our enemies.

As my breathing calmed, my focus deteriorated under the direct warmth of Will's body, his hands on my ribcage, my bicep. He didn't seem aware of my state of undress, nor the humiliating heat that colored my cheeks.

Or maybe he just purposely ignored my sodden underclothes, the mismatched colors and fraying threads. I did threaten to gouge out his eyes, after all.

He drew away and motioned for me to stay put. Then he crept back into the maze of aspens and disappeared.

I stared after him, mouth agape.

Someone needed some core communication lessons.

I stood there in scraps of linen, dripping wet in the camouflage of the bushes, waiting anxiously to see what Will would do. Would he attack? Would he bring Styx? The others?

I couldn't believe the worry I felt for Will and Fudge—even Mason. If I lost them, I'd be all alone, and for once in my life, that solitude terrified me. I didn't want to face this scary, confusing world all by myself.

Honestly, I wasn't sure I could.

The demons continued their search like hounds closing in on their prey. The closest could have passed for an alien: a pointed skull, ten fingers that extended too far, like melted cheese, and an abnormally long torso. Even his skin had been torn apart—shredded taffy across raw and ruined flesh.

Stretch, I'd call him.

The other two approached him, and they snarled in low whispers, clearly aggravated by the holdup. Stretch raised his hand to silence them, and then he pointed at the riverbank and my suspicious pile of belongings.

Well then.

Time to skedaddle.

I took one deliberate step backward, and silver eyes instantly zeroed in on my position. The smile that accompanied the creature's gaze made every cell in my body pinch and twist in fear.

"There she is."

The three of them faced me, ready to capture or kill or consume. I wasn't sure which.

I stared them down, my palms clammy, my toes curling into the soil for traction. At this point, it came down to fight or flight. And I was tired of running.

Eyeing my things on the other side of the river, I grabbed a tree branch off the ground and rushed the triad.

Stretch found this amusing. He swung his sword at my face, and I ducked, feeling the air of the weapon whip past my damp head.

I met his second blow with my stick, and he gave me a startled look when his steel blade struck wood. The move offered a temporary victory, but it also brought me way too close to my unsightly enemy. Panicking, I used a technique Tom had shown me countless times. Using the butt of my branch, I whacked him in the temple. Twice.

The demon stumbled back, dizzy and perplexed, and I dashed away before he had a chance to recover.

As I'd feared, the other two closed in on me to block my path, seeking to trap me here in knee-deep water and stain the river red.

One demon bore a face of blackened veins and pulpy, tarnished skin, almost like he'd been boiled alive. He also carried a lengthy spear, and he appeared very ready to lodge it through my skull.  I didn't even realize they still made spears, and I had no idea how to fend off such a weapon.

The second, not unlike a hairless Bigfoot, cracked his knuckles so loud, I thought he'd dislocated his shoulder.

"The human child thinks she stands a chance," Stretch taunted, wading up behind me with his sword in hand. "Isn't that precious..."

My stomach sank to my feet. I was surrounded on all sides, cornered by apex predators—much like yesterday's trial.

Three to one, and no platform to climb.

Pulpy looked me over, laughing to himself in a way that was entirely inhuman. "Look at her stance. She really thinks she can kill us with her bare hands."

Before I could show them exactly that, a rock whizzed past my ear and walloped Stretch in the forehead. Knocking him flat.

Wha...?  My mouth fell open. What in the world?

I turned just in time to catch Will mid-leap, spinning in the air with a steel blade in either hand—slashing the demons' throats open in one clear sweep. He landed in the water on two steady feet, as graceful and unruffled as ever.

The two limp bodies fell to the riverbed with heavy splashes, and I watched, stupefied, as the demon blood slowly turned the water black.

Well then. So much for Pulpy and Titan.

I blinked at Will, not sure what to say, and he trudged through the moving water to join me, his eyes pinned to Stretch's submerged body. Styx stood behind him, composed of leaves and water particles. She spun a series of jagged throwing stones in the air above her hand.

You're welcome, her faceless expression said.

Will handed my sword over wordlessly, and I winced at the images the weapon projected. Violent memories and Tournament conquests burned against my bare palms, flashes of scalding white light contaminating my vision. I let the guard rest on my fingertips to alleviate the pain, but it would be impossible to fight that way.

"You okay?" he asked, and I wasn't sure if he meant physically, mentally, or both.

"Super."

Stretch clambered to his feet, wiping the blood and water from his enormous forehead. Wet, tattered clothing hugged his corpse-like body, and I didn't envy his leather armor, now twice as heavy as before.

He regarded us first with a timid air, and then his eyes flashed to our weapons, and he smiled. "You can't kill us with your primitive toys."

Will narrowed his eyes, and I mirrored his response. We had swords now—I'd ditched my broken tree branch.

"What are you...?" Will faltered at the sound of a quiet splash behind us, and a terrible feeling crawled up my spine and over my shoulder.

I spun around and blanched at the sight before me.

The two demons Will cut down just moments ago were moving again. Like Nova's poppets, they rose from the water—hips, bellies, and shoulders. Their bodies intact, their necks mended and healed.

And very much alive.