Hearing Ed-Bear’s command, the little girl obediently squeezed her eyes shut, standing perfectly still.
A massive moth hung from the tree directly ahead of them.
Eyeballs that looked unsettlingly artificial grew from both sides of its head. They were starkly black and white, gloomy and lifeless, possessing a sickeningly greasy sheen that reflected the dim light.
Its wings were thick with vibrant, slimy scales, overgrown with tufts of hair and jagged spines. Long, trailing mimic-tails drifted from the lower edge, while its bloated abdomen sprouted seven or eight starfish-like tentacles that wriggled with a slow, eerie rhythm in the moonlight.
It was a Forest Sea Sphinx Moth.
One look into its eyes was enough to plunge a human into a state of profound impurity, trapping them in an inescapable spiral of self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. Many famous “suicide forests” were infested with these bizarre creatures.
In the next instant, Ed-Bear’s mouth suddenly split wide. His tongue flicked out like a bolt of lightning, and with a wet thud, the Forest Sea Sphinx Moth vanished from the tree.
The actual process was far more complex. If one were to capture it with a high-speed camera and play it back frame by frame, they would see his mouth tear open from the corners of his lips, the split running along his jawline all the way to his neck. The interior was lined with row upon row of dense, razor-sharp teeth, resembling the gaping maw of a prehistoric shark.
His powerful tongue tore through the air, vibrating so violently it shook off beads of moisture. It reached the moth in the blink of an eye, the muscles at the tip seizing the creature by its back. As it was yanked back into the darkness of his throat, the jaws snapped shut, grinding the monster—which measured over a meter in length—into a pulpy mess.
The entire process took less than a second.
“You can open your eyes now,” Ed-Bear said.
Helen did as she was told. Unaware of what had transpired, her large, dark eyes darted around, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The warmth of the candle and Ed-Bear’s towering silhouette provided her with an immense sense of security. Though grief still lingered in her heart, her emotions had stabilized significantly. Her parents’ fate was like a fresh wound; as long as she didn’t touch it, the pain remained dull.
She trudged through the mud, her steps heavy. She struggled to lift her legs over low-hanging vines and arched roots. Fine thorns from the shrubs and weeds scratched her calves, leaving bright red streaks across her skin.
Helen bit her lip and endured it. She thought silently to herself: Only children who don’t cause trouble for others are good children. She wanted to be a good girl; bad girls were the ones who got thrown away.
But she was reaching her limit.
Her legs felt like they were filled with lead. Her calves, in particular, were throbbing with a numbing itch, likely from the poisonous stingers of some unknown plant. The shoes she wore kept sinking into the mire, and every time she pulled them out, it felt like the mud was trying to strip them off her feet.
Then there were the hateful mosquitoes. They were as hard as small beetles and impossible to kill with a single swat—or perhaps her small, fleshy hands simply lacked the strength.
Ed-Bear noticed her heavy gait, her swaying body, and her pale complexion. She looked like she was on the verge of fainting. Only then did it occur to him that a long trek through such terrain was an ordeal for a human cub.
He stopped and turned to look at her.
Helen looked back, her expression confused.
Ed-Bear handed her the candlestick. Once her small hands had a firm grip on it, his left arm swept under her knees while his right arm supported her back, lifting her gently into his embrace.
Helen panicked, her voice trembling as she stammered, “I… I can walk on my own…”
“Don’t push yourself. A little longer and you’ll lose all feeling in your legs,” Ed-Bear paused, then added, “You’ve done very well. Better than anyone else your age.”
“Really?”
Being praised sent a reflexive spark of joy through Helen’s heart. She gripped the candlestick with both hands, the flame warming her face—especially her nose, which felt hot and flushed.
With the little girl in his arms, Ed-Bear’s pace quickened, his long strides eating up the forest floor. He could have dropped to all fours and sprinted through the woods with her on his back, but that form was far too terrifying and the ride would be jarring. If he had to make an emergency stop, the girl would likely be flung off by the momentum.
He followed the scent of moisture. Soon, the sound of gurgling water reached his ears, and a shallow stream choked with jagged rocks appeared ahead. Following the stream to lower ground, they found a river flowing toward the west.
The river was treacherous and unpredictable, winding through sharp bends with a rapid current. In some places, it was over a hundred meters wide; in others, it narrowed to a mere twenty or thirty. Sandbars and small islands were scattered throughout.
For Ed-Bear, time was of the essence.
He had no food or water, and Helen would soon be plagued by hunger and dehydration. There had been flatbread, sausages, and cured meats at the cultist camp, but after tasting them, he found they were laced with far too much coca leaf and hemp dregs. If a little girl ate that, her pupils would dilate and she’d be meeting her maker in no time.
Monster meat was toxic. Ed-Bear could devour monsters only because he was a monster himself; his body could break down toxins or even store them as weapons. He possessed over ten venom sacs within his body, each with a unique purpose—some were secreted by his own organs, while others were concentrated from his diet.
However, a human girl’s digestive system couldn’t process monster toxins. Even with specialized cooking, the poison couldn’t be entirely removed.
Water was an equally dire problem. The swamps and streams on the surface were teeming with lethal toxins and bacteria; even if boiled, it remained undrinkable for humans. Groundwater, filtered through layers of sand and rock, was clean, but it was difficult to access.
The flora of the Evernight Realm was no kinder. Growing in a harsh, lightless environment, most plants were highly toxic. Finding non-poisonous roots or berries was harder than finding clean water.
Thus, Ed-Bear’s only hope was to reach a human settlement or an explorer’s camp as quickly as possible.
Holding Helen, he searched the riverbank for materials to build a raft. After a few dozen meters, he found a massive tree that had been uprooted by a gale.
He set Helen down and drew his camping knife. With practiced skill, he stripped away the bark, revealing a trunk as pale and grey as bone. Tapping it produced a sharp, hollow sound. Ed-Bear decided to use this lightweight timber to construct a raft and drift downstream.
Helen, being helpful, held the candlestick high to provide light.
Ed-Bear swung the knife, hacking away the branches. He then split the trunk down the middle, creating two three-meter-long logs of buoyant wood. There was plenty of material by the river; he cut down a dozen smaller trees about the thickness of an arm, shaved them flat, and laid them across the two logs to create a sturdy grid frame. He secured the joints with tough, flexible vines.
Half an hour later, he surveyed the finished product—a solid raft three meters square. Given the winding nature of the river and the swift current, he crafted two hardwood oars to steer clear of rocks, shallows, and sandbars.
“Are we going on the boat?” Helen asked in a small voice.
Time has a way of dulling pain, and by now, her emotions had calmed. The candlelight also served to focus her mind and stabilize her Sanity, helping her keep her composure.
“Get on. And remember, don’t let your feet dangle in the water. Things might bite them off,” Ed-Bear warned.
Helen shivered in fear. She stepped onto the raft with extreme caution, her eyes fixed on the water.
Ed-Bear followed. As he stepped up, the raft sank significantly under the sudden increase in weight. Turning back, he cut the vine mooring rope. The raft began to drift with the current, moving from a slow crawl to a rapid glide downstream.
He lashed the candlestick to a makeshift cross-mast in the center of the raft. If they reached a wider stretch of the river, he could raise a leaf-sail to increase their speed.
Helen pulled her aching, swollen legs into a cross-legged sitting position, her small back hunched. Before long, her stomach let out a loud growl.
She had left home in a hurry at noon without even eating lunch, only to be abducted by the Secret Window Society cultists and forced to trek through the wilderness all afternoon. It was now around eight or nine in the evening, and she hadn’t had a drop of water or a bite of food. She was exhausted and starving.
Ed-Bear pretended not to hear. He had no food to give her, and no water to quench her thirst.
