Authors note: hello! sorry these updates are taking so long now, shit's really been hitting the fan in my life :'] not to be fake deep but in the past few months, theres been people ive lost, people ive gotten back, and people ive finally let go of. thank you all so much for sticking around through this, to make up for the long pause i decided to make this a double update! If you want some extra content (concept art, playlists, etc.) check the human v humanity tag on tumblr! I hope you enjoy what i have planned. :)

Trigger warnings for this chapter: Mild violence

POV: Doyle

". . . Uhm. . . Maybe it's a sword?"

"Yeah, I see a man with a sword."

"What are all those squiggly lines?"

"Looks like a snake."

"No, on the other side."

"Oh. . . Water, maybe?"

"I think it's upside down."

Our four curious pairs of eyes collectively skim a large rock structure, covered in runes and symbols, looking for something we can make sense of. The wall is tall and flashy, flashy enough to catch our attention from at least a hundred yards away and momentarily distract us from finding a giant otter. Y'know, like we needed any more surprises today.

As I lean in for a closer look, my foot touches something small and metallic, an eery screech on the icey skin of the ground alerting me to it's presence. I quickly retrieve and inspect the object closer. It's slightly hooked, and extremely sharp. With the shine of leather on a piece leading up to it, I recognize it as the tail end to some kind of whip.

"Aaallright, now I'm really confused."

"Yeah, I thought you said everyone out here had moved to city." Van rook states, crossing his arms inquisitively at Ila.

"Well, obviously not everyone."

Zak hesitantly inches his hand towards the wall, afraid to actually touch it.

"Is it inuit?"

She shakes her head.

"Definitely not. Looks Egyptian or something, I dunno, but it definitely wasn't here before."

"Then we should probably keep going, in case someone comes back for their. . . whip and giant rock."

"Doyle's right. We're still on the Kushtaka's trail, he should be right over-. . ."

As if on cue, he stops dead in his tracks, with that vacant stare, yet this time, it's lacking an orange hue.

"Is it him?"

"Yeah. . . but. . ."

". . . What does 'but' mean?"

He points right past me with an uneasy look creeping over his face, and when I discover what's behind me, I quickly match it. There in the distance stands two shadowed human figures. Covering their faces are ribbed masks with four golden tiers, wrapping around their heads and upturning into horns. Their determined stance makes my blood run cold. My question is no longer how Zak saw them, but frankly, how they saw us.

"Get behind me."

"No, Doyle, we have to go after the Kushtaka, we've already lost it twice, we're so close!"

My brows knit together. He has a point, coming out into the open so many times for one cryptid is a risk I'm not sure I want to keep taking. We got lucky with Ila, we almost bit it with the fishermen, I have a feeling our luck's running out. I turn to the rest of the group.

"You and Ila go for the otter, Van Rook and I will take care of these guys."

He gives me a determined nod, as if he's trying to cement his goal in his mind before taking off. Once they're both out of our sight, we advance on the mysterious figures. As soon as I take my first step they try to bolt, moving as fast as the wind, and for good measure, quickly splitting between two large icey formations jutting up from the ground. Their speed is surprising, but doesn't phase me. Van Rook and I, after working together for so long, are able to give each other silent commands to divide and conquer. I sprint towards the left of the ice and begin tracking my target.

The scenery doesn't help me much. My breath creates clouds that obscure my vision as I try to violently smack frozen branches away from hitting my face. I have boots made for snowy traction, but it doesn't stop me from getting tripped up by the occasional ice slick. By the time we reach the opening at the end of the wall, he's mere feet in front of me.

With a forceful leap, I tackle the man to the ground, his strange mask flying off and rolling through the snow. Frankly, his appearance is almost as hard to make sense of as the runes upon that wall. His eyes, filled with fear, and light pink, are staring me down. His shoulder length black hair is messily spilling over his jacket, and his face is dusted with freckles, implying an amount of sun this area doesn't often receive through it's winter clouds. I'm sure he couldn't be a day over 20.

"Please, I'm a servant of Kur, if you let me go I can help you!"

My grip stays tight, mostly out of utter confusion. . . . What the fuck does that mean? 'Servant of Kur'? Is he crazy? Am I supposed to trust that? The only reason I'm not still trying to eradicate Kur is because it happened to be my 12 year old nephew, what does he have to worship?

". . . What the hell are you talking about. . .? Look kid, we don't need any help."

Before I can overthink his words any more, my gaze shifts to a glint of light coming from his hand.

"Then stay out of my way."

The sound of cloth ripping echoes through the air as I'm barely able to dodge his knifes jab. I check myself for blood, and when I find nothing but a large slit in my coat, my exterior hardens. Ok, kid or not, I'm gonna kick this guys ass.

He rushes me and I rush back, managing to land a decent punch to the jaw before he hunches over and tackles me to the frosted ground.

"You have no idea the power you have the privilege to care for. . ."

With a push and a leg swipe, I manage to roll on top of him and get a grasp on his arms.

"The dude's twelve, he can't even beat me at Mario Kart!"

He lets out a growl, which should have signaled to me this guy's about to do something ridiculous, and lets the knife fall from his hand. It clatters onto the ice as he braces himself against the ground. In an instant, our skulls clack, ringing in my head as loud as a gunshot.

A headbutt. Of course.

Before I can figure out where I am, he's on top of me and has his hands around my neck. I struggle, attempting to ease myself up and away from him before I realize there's no ground where I'm going. I try to turn my eyes up as far as I can and see that my head is dangling a few inches over the side of a not so steep, but rather jagged ice cliff.

This is bad. Also, pretty embarrassing, this guy's the size of a cheerleader and he's got me pinned. But I guess I should be upset because I'm in danger, or whatever.

When I manage to regain my grip on his arms, he pulls yet another knife, keeping one hand against my throat. Are you serious, he's choking me one-handed?

My eyes start to squint as the contrast in my world goes up, tunnel vision quickly settling in. I struggle harder but it only seeps my final breath away from me sooner. Okay, this might actually be bad. Everything is hazy, but I realize, at the end of the tunnel there is something I can make out. I know it's not real, but it's something to hold onto.

Someone.

With long white hair.

Spprt!

In one fluid motion, I seem to have grabbed the knife he's abandoned and clumsily slashed his side open. Warm droplets of blood spray across the icey earth and myself, a good amount of it settling on my face and neck. Eeeech.

His eyes widen with pain as he finally loosens his clutch. Once I'm finally able to take in a gasp, I rush to stand and flee. Kinda stupid in hindsight. As an ancient deity Jordin Sparks once said, how am I supposed to breathe with no air. My lungs seize in the sudden cold and I fall, back against the ice wall, having to rest a moment and let my oxygen-starved body get it's bearings. When my eyes focus again, I see that he's now laying, clutching his side, and eerily close to the ice cliff.

God, It would be too easy.

I shake my thoughts and decide to dart again, this time managing to keep my feet going. The continued fog of my breath reassures me that I have enough air again. I can feel his blood drying down on my skin, but it's a concept I'm pushing to the back of my head.

As I come to a sliding stop around the corner we entered, I almost slam right into Van Rook. He's bent over, practically heaving.

"She got away, I couldn't even see her by the time I reached the. . ."

His eyes eventually gaze upon my rather alarming appearance, and per usual he responds as nonchalantly as possible.

". . . Uech. . . Somebody's going to need a new coat."