Chapter Text
There would be much to do now that they had regained their freedom and were no longer snowed in. They would need to cut firewood as well hunt and fish to bolster their larder, amongst other things, but before any of those chores would be undertaken, a simple outing into the hamlet was planned to check on their neighbors and help those who might still be trapped by the snow. After all the shoveling they had done, the last thing Dismas wanted to do was more, but Reynauld insisted it was the right and good thing to do for the well-being of the hamlet, and when he got an idea like that into his head he was impossible to dissuade.
Dismas was to be in the first group to head out, as well as Chauncy and Ecouland. He rightly assumed Gael would be coming along as well, because even though she had not voiced the intention to, she had stood by patiently while they prepared themselves. She had looked on dubiously as they strapped on their snowshoes, and when she was offered a pair had only shaken her head and made a face of contempt at what she clearly perceived to be an unnecessary contraption.
“Suit yourself.” Dismas had told her.
When they finally set off, he understood why she had been so quick to decline, as she took off over the snow as fleet-footed as a bobcat. When she had gotten too far ahead of them, she paused to give them time to catch up, turning to watch them slowly trudge their way towards her. The dogs who had accompanied them, ecstatic at finally being outside once more, had also raced ahead, and now circled around Gael barking gleefully. Dismas suspected both Chauncy and Ecouland had only volunteered for the outing as a way to exercise the beasts and to get them away, at least momentarily, from the hungering gaze of Hachet.
When they had caught up to her, she strode ahead of them once more, the dogs following closely on her heels. When she stopped up ahead once again and looked back, the others thought it was to allow them time to catch up, at least until the dogs began to howl an alarm. Chauncy immediately called out to the dogs to try to calm them down, as he knew that howl and that it meant nothing good awaited them up ahead. All three hurried their pace to catch up with Gael, who looked from them to the ground and back again. When they arrived at where Gael had paused, Dismas saw that the dogs were circling and sniffing the ground, and looking down he saw what looked to be fresh blood on the snow. The blood led away in a trail, deeper into the hamlet. He felt his stomach churn at the sight. Gael met his eyes and then nodded. There was no choice but to follow it and see where it might lead.
As they followed the trail, the amount of blood only seemed to increase. When they spotted the thing that stood at the center of the carnage, unease turned to outright alarm. A crude altar had been erected, built out of bones and decorated with strips of ragged flesh.
“The symbol of the iron crown...” Chauncy muttered to himself. It was true, the altar did depict the familiar shape that had become a recurring symbol of the strange madness that seemed to infest the hamlet.
Mirrored on the snow was the symbol once more, painted with blood, the spears of the crown made of what looked to be something Dismas hoped was not what he thought it was. Leaning down to look closer, his fears were confirmed- the spears of the crown were human fingers. Chauncy hunkered down beside him to also take a look.
“Look at the colour of the skin on these... they weren't all taken from one person.” Chauncy deduced. Dismas had been too disturbed by the gruesome sight to have even considered who they might have come from, but Chauncy was right, they could not all have been cut from one individual, they were too different.
Ecouland knelt down and picked up one of the fingers, inspecting it closer. “It's difficult to tell due to the cold, but I suspect this may be fresh.”
Gael gripped the shovel she held as if she wished it were her glaive and scanned the surrounding area, eyes alert for any sign of trouble.
Dismas made to rise and he was about to take a step back from the altar when Chauncy, already back on his feet, shot an arm to restrain him. “Don't you dare. This is a crime scene and I won't have you contaminating it. Don't move an inch. Let us work.” Dismas wanted to ask him how his wife snatching up fingers was somehow alright but him so much as taking a step was not, but he knew it to be pointless. Chauncy was pointing now, seeming to reconstruct the scene he had in his head as he played it out for them, “See here, there are hoof prints, so this was done by swinefolk.” He pointed away from the altar. “Now look there, there are deep ruts carved into the snow, and those go not where the blood trail begins, but in a separate direction. After cutting the fingers, making us this display, they carried them off, in a wheelbarrow perhaps, that's what could have caused the rut.” He walked back some of the way they had come, careful to only retrace over their own prints. “See here, the blood we followed, there's that one area where the snow is disturbed.” He pointed to it, and while Dismas had not initially noticed, Chauncy was right that something had broken the clean flat expanse of white. “One of the people who had their fingers cut must have slipped the swine, run at least a smalls way off leaving us that trail, before being recaptured where the snow is disturbed, a tussle, you see?” Gael was clearly having trouble following all that Chauncy was saying, but she had gotten a hard look on her face when the word 'swine' had been spoken. “Now, if you're still following me, if this person ran off from the swine, they should have been cut down, right? So, we should have seen more blood where that area is disturbed, not less. Unless, of course, the swine took them alive.” Chauncy took a deep breath after the statement, and waited for their reactions.
Ecouland considered for a moment before her face lit up. “If they were taken alive, and my guess that these fingers are fresh is correct, we might still be able to save them!”
“You can't really believe that,” Dismas said. He was far too pessimistic to believe that any townfolk unlucky enough to have been lifted by the swine could still be alive.
“We have to try.” was all Chauncy answered. Ecouland nodded her agreement.
The jubilation of freedom seemed short-lived to Dismas as now it was quickly becoming clear to him they would most likely soon be going to the warrens. He would have preferred to remain snowed in at the barracks had he known what awaited them out here.
Chauncy, ever the lawman, seemed to be taking command of the situation. “This is a time sensitive mission. I'll stay here and keep looking for clues. Ecouland, continue further into the hamlet, try to find out who got taken, and how many. Dismas, can you and Gael head back to the barracks? Tell the others about this, gather our weapons, and bring anyone who might be fit enough to make an assault on the warrens back here.”
There it was, laid out for him just as he expected it, that they would be going to the warrens on a wild chase to save people who were most likely already dead. “All right,” Dismas said. He knew better than to try arguing with Chauncy. He motioned for Gael to follow him, and she did.
When they were away from the altar, walking over snow that was crisp and white, she spoke. “The swine. We will fight back?” she asked him.
“That's the idea,” Dismas told her. On seeing her lack of reaction, he realized she might not understand the expression and added, “Yes, yes we will.”
At that she smiled fiercely, a flame of bloodlust alighting in her eyes. “Good.” was all she said, and they talked no more the rest of the walk back.
Their ill news spread panic throughout the barracks. They had all known the swine had attempted to kidnap one of their own during the blizzard, so it should have been of little surprise they had done the same elsewhere in the hamlet, and yet it still soured what should have been a day of celebration. Reynauld thought that sending too many people might work against them, for if the swine became aware they were being hunted down, they may be more likely to kill any hostages. It was decided they would send only one team, a group that could move quickly, track the swine down, and bring back any survivors, should there be any. Dismas thought it was for the best only one team would be sent, as he doubted enough of their members were even well enough to make a foray.
Only one person volunteered himself- Hachet, the bounty hunter. “I'll go. I'm the best tracker there is and I can find these people whether they're alive or dead.”
Dismas thought Chauncy would have argued Hachet's claim had he been present. Dismas had mixed feelings about the man. They had been enemies once, and Dismas had never truly forgiven him for the one solid punch to the jaw Hachet had landed on him. In the end, he thought it made little difference if Hachet wanted to go to the warrens, as he himself had no intention of volunteering. At least he thought he did, until Gael stepped forward, her glaive now in hand, and announced that she would be going.
Shuffling forward from where he had melted into the crowd, Dismas came to stand at her side. “All right, count me in too.”
Reynauld looked over the three of them. “You need a fourth member. This is a tracking mission, so I assume Chauncy will be rounding out your team?”
“I'd assume so,” Dismas answered. He thought it safe enough to answer on Chauncy's behalf, as when it came to situations like these he always wanted to stick his nose in and do what was necessary for 'justice', as he so called it.
With their team decided, they set out to meet back up with Chauncy and Ecouland. They would be bringing their weapons and armor, as well as what supplies they could. There would be no more discussions or planning, they would leave right away so as to not waste any more precious time. As they geared up, Dismas turned to Hachet and asked, “So why do you really want to come?”
The man snorted contemptuously. “To kill pigs of course.”
Had it been Reynauld he would have reminded Hachet that it was a rescue mission, but Dismas simply glowered at him. While Dismas cared little about his reason, he was gratified to have his misanthropy reaffirmed.
When they had led Hachet to where the idol was, they saw that Ecouland had returned from her scouting and had rejoined Chauncy. They were clearly waiting for them and Ecouland spoke before they even had time to greet them. “This is serious, entire families have been taken.”
Dismas felt sick at this news.
“I'm not sure how many we can save, but at least one break-in was recent, happening only this morning. We were right, those fingers were fresh,” Chauncy told them.
Dismas told them of the plan. He had been right that Chauncy was not only fine with being on the team, he desperately wanted to be a part of the rescue mission.
“Good luck,” Ecouland said. She embraced Chauncy, kissing him deeply before releasing him back to them. While she would remain behind, she would not remain idle; she planned to raise a defense force, for no one knew if swine might remain lurking in the hamlet, waiting to enact more violence on the villagers.
When their goodbyes to Ecouland were all said, they set off for the warrens.
-
Somehow, the air within the tunnels was more foul than when they had last set foot there. Despite the cold outside, the warrens were almost warm, humid even, whether through contact with an unknown source of heat or by the warmth given off by the sheer amount of pig creatures that inhabited the place, Gael did not know. She had wrinkled her nose at the sight and smell of the snow along the perimeter of the entrance, for it steamed with filth, the clean white melting away to brown coloured slush.
They had followed the tracks made by the wheelbarrow as far as they could, for the way onward was now covered in running water, obscuring the ruts. The water they would have to wade through was ice cold, and Gael suspected by spring a large part of the warrens would well be flooded by the thaw. She hoped the beasts would drown.
She watched as Chauncy and Hachet conferred together, seeming to disagree on some detail of how they should proceed. Chauncy pulled from his coat pocket a small leather bag, and on opening it she saw that it contained the severed fingers from the altar. He knelt and allowed the two dogs he had brought along with them to smell the fingers. The ears of the dogs perked, and turning their snouts upwards, they began to sniff the air. The dogs chose their path, not unlike the first time they had come to the warrens. This did not bother her in the least, for Gael trusted well the wisdom of animals. They followed the dogs, careful to move silently so as to not risk alerting any swine of their presence. Already, she could feel the chill seeping into her feet and working its way upwards; they must keep moving for the water would sap their strength, turning their legs to lead should they tarry on their task.
As the dogs pulled them along, she saw signs that told her they were indeed on the trail of the swine, for the beasts left spoor and other filth in their wake. One dog lowered its head to smell a pile of droppings, and when it raised it back up it issued a low growl deep in its throat. Chauncy murmured gentle reassurance to the dog, though to her he looked as nervous as his animals were with their fur standing on end. The tunnel began to gently slope upwards, and when they reached ground no longer covered by water, they saw that the wheelbarrow tracks continued, carved deep into the soft mud. This was only a momentary respite, for the trail soon descended once more, not only returning them to the water, but forcing them to wade against even stronger a current. She was tall and strong, and capable of bearing the cold, but she could tell it was draining the others, Dismas worst of all, for his face bore a grimace of discomfort though he uttered not a word of complaint. The dogs too were beginning to grow weary, for the water came all the way up to the top of their legs, and their pace had notably slowed as they struggled to keep their footing. Gael feared that if the water grew any deeper the poor beasts would be forced to paddle along.
When they reached a branching path, it became clear the dogs had lost the scent, for they only whined and looked at their master with forlorn eyes. “It's all right girls, you've brought us as far as you can,” Chauncy told them, scratching one under the chin.
Hachet snorted contemptuously at this and shoved past him and the apologetic looking dogs to investigate one of the two possible tunnels. “We go down this one,” he said without a moment of hesitation.
“Should we not investigate the other path too?” Chauncy asked.
“Don't think we need to,” Hachet said, already making his way ahead and not waiting for any further arguments. With little choice but to follow, they set off after him. As Gael passed by where he had first gone to look she understood his judgement, for there was a gruesome smear of blood that ran along the stonework of the wall, at just the right height that if someone were to have leaned out of the wheelbarrow and reached out their hand...
Thank you, Gael thought, for leaving us this sign.
This tunnel led them once more to another branching path, this time with three possible routes they could choose to take. Hachet investigated them one by one, and when he had looked down all three he returned to them and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Could be any of them,” he said.
Chauncy led his dogs forward to sniff at the three dark tunnel paths, but they seemed to have no more clue which way to go than Hachet did. Their two best trackers were stumped.
They were standing around in indecision when something caught Gael's eye, a small thing bobbing along in the water. Quick as lightning Dismas snatched it out of the water before it could get away, and had he not Gael knew it would have passed them by. As he looked down at what he had grabbed, his eyes took on solemn look that chilled Gael's heart far more than the icy water did her body. She came forward to look and saw that what he held in his hand was a simple fabric doll like that a child would play with. It was obvious which of the three tunnels it had flowed from. Dismas held up the doll so the others could see. Hachet seemed not to react, but Chauncy's face crumpled into such an expression of grief that Gael pitied him in that moment. “We must hurry,” Chauncy said. There was no argument, and they all made their way towards the tunnel that had brought them the sinister omen.
This tunnel was long and winding, but had no further crossroads. They had been following it for some time when the sound of squeals reached their ears, as well as a second sound- that of human screams. Chauncy's plea that they must hurry now took on true urgency, and they quickened their pace, running and splashing through the water with no more concern for being stealthy. Gael led them, and it was as she turned the corner that she saw what awaited them ahead at the end of the very long hall- an open door, a room, a horde of stinking swine, and the people they had come to save. The largest of the swine hulked over a filthy table, and in its hand was a great meat cleaver. As they ran towards the room they saw two other of the pigs pull forward a struggling woman, force her to the table, and hold her down on top of it. She screamed and struggled against their grasp, but was helpless to break free of them. The large swine raised its meat cleaver, and though Gael was close enough to see the woman's eyes bulge in terror, she knew she would not be fast enough to reach her in time. The knife had begun to descend in its lethal arc when something went whizzing past her. The swine let out a roar of pain, and Gael saw that a hook had pierced its arm. “No you don't!” Hachet shouted as he gave a great tug on his grappling hook, yanking the arm of the pig fiercely. The cleaver came down, and splinters flew as it embedded itself deep into the table. The woman's neck had been spared, and as the pigs released her to face them, she rolled off of the slaughtering table to the ground.
This was enough of a shock to the swine that it bought them the time they needed to reach the room, the dogs being the first to burst into action, each of them latching onto one arm of the swine butcher. As they bit and tore at it, Gael thrust forward with her glaive, running it through before it had a chance to shake them off. She had only just pulled free her glaive, and the intestines of the swine, when Hachet shoved past her so that he could embed his axe into the skull of another of the foul beasts. Gael leapt over the swine she had felled and set the cutting down the next.
“Get down!” she heard Dismas shout, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman the swine had meant to kill throw herself to the ground amongst the carnage. Several gun shots rang out, and though Gael remained focused on her own opponent, she knew in her heart that Dismas had shot true and that the battle must be turning in their favour. The pig with which she was occupied swung the hook it called a hand towards her, and she was forced to step back to avoid having her throat slit. Gael was preparing to counter attack when the swine shrieked in pain and stumbled, giving her the perfect opening she needed to finish it in a singular blow, striking its head from its shoulders! She heaved a great sigh and saw that it had been the woman who had helped her, for she had taken the cleaver that the butcher pig had threatened her life with and used it to chop at the leg of the hooked pig. Gael looked down at her and graced her with a savage smile of approval. Clutching the cleaver tightly to her chest, the woman returned her smile, and then crawled quickly out of their way so as not to be under foot. This choice made Gael approve of her all the more.
Gael let her eyes rove over the battle so as to choose her next target when she spotted it- a tiny little scurrying pig wearing a loin cloth, pale and weak looking compared to its compatriots. It had gone completely unnoticed by the others for they were all engaged with far more threatening foe, but something about the little pest unnerved her. It ran through the battlefield, leaping over the dead bodies of the other swine, clearly having some destination in mind. When Gael saw that it meant to go for the crude wooden cages that held the other captive villagers, she cried out in rage. She rushed after it, leaping the same dead bodies for already she had some idea of what it meant to do. When it reached the cage, what it did do appalled her even more greatly than what she had first suspected, for it reached through the bars of the cage and wrestled a babe from the arms of its mother before her very eyes.
With the wailing babe in tow it took off into one of the tunnels, and recklessly, filled with rage, Gael followed after it.
-
Dismas was taking aim once more when he caught a glimpse of red, only the briefest of impressions stamping itself onto his mind before it was gone, into the darkness of the tunnel. He scanned the room and realized that though the battle was winding down, Gael was nowhere to be seen. Had it been her hair he had seen, flashing like the sparks off of a blacksmith's anvil in the light of the torch? He thought on it for no more than a breath before he took off running after her.
Chauncy and Hachet will have to manage, he thought, his only concern her safety.
Splashing through the tunnel, his heart racing, his breath laboured, Dismas prayed that he would catch sight of her soon. He heard her before he saw her, a single shouted cry he knew to be her, and more disturbingly, a strange high pitched wail and the squeal of a pig. He held his gun tightly, his finger hovering the trigger ready to let loose a hail of bullets if need be, but when he finally did catch sight of her, he knew that was unnecessary.
Gael was walking towards him with a crying baby cradled in her arms.
He lowered his gun and stood gaping at her. Whatever he had expected, it was not this.
“Small pig, stole child,” Gael said. That explained for him the other sound he had heard, and the haste with which she had run off, but it did not explain just how calm she was about it. “It got away,” she added, the bitterness in her voice hard to miss. Dismas was at a loss for words. That he had not even noticed the baby being taken, nor had Chauncy or Hachet, disturbed him. Had Gael not been with them, the pig would have gotten away with it, for a purpose Dismas did not wish to let his thoughts linger on. His respect for her was growing, and seeing her standing there, strong and assured, he worried that if she kept showing him up like this he might risk growing sweet on her. He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment and looked away. Those feelings could wait until they were home safe, and not in the warrens. There was still work to be done.
He was about the tell her they should head back when the sound of shouting came echoing through the tunnel. Their eyes met for only a moment, a shared look of understanding, before they both took off running back towards where they had left the others. They burst into the room, ready to fight off another wave of pigs if need be, but there were none in sight. It took his mind a moment to register that this was not the shouting of a battle, but that of a heated argument.
“What are you doing?” Chauncy cried out. To Dismas it was very plain just what Hachet was doing, for he had taken hold of one of the swine's wheelbarrows piled high with human corpses and then with a great shove dumped the bodies to the ground. The many captives, who Chauncy had clearly just released from the cages that had held them were now screaming in horror and grief at the callous act. While Dismas understood how they must feel seeing the remains of their loved ones treated so, it put his teeth on edge to think how many more swine, or others things, might be attracted by the noise. With the wheelbarrow now emptied, Hachet began to fill it once more- with the bodies of the swine they had just killed.
“I'm taking this meat,” Hachet told him, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
“You can't be serious,” Chauncy said in disbelief, the despair in his voice making plain that he knew Hachet was very much so.
“This is good meat and we'll need it when the next blizzard hits.”
“It is not good meat! You can't tell me you actually mean to eat swinefolk, it's...” Chauncy trailed off, trying to think of some argument that could persuade the man to stop, but in the end all he could muster was, “wrong.”
“Why did we even bother saving these people if we all plan to starve to death? More mouths to feed and nothing to feed them with, and you want to leave all this meat behind?”
At this, Chauncy turned from Hachet to Dismas, with pleading eyes that begged him to intervene. “Dismas, talk sense to him,” Chauncy asked of him.
Dismas thought back to a time he did not want to remember, a gnawing hunger so deep and so painful he would do anything to make it stop. Dismas thought of eating the rats. He had known true desperation then, a desperation Chauncy could never fathom. Hachet was right that the blizzard they had weathered might not be the last. If they were all snowed in again and people were hungry enough, they would eat things far worse than swinefolk. “We take the meat.”
Gael nodded her approval to this.
“You're all mad,” Chauncy said, “I won't have any part in this.”
Chauncy did not aid them in loading the wheelbarrow, but with the three of them, they had little need of his help and the task was quickly completed. His disapproval was palpable, as was that of the villagers, but Dismas cared not. While he was loathe to agree with Hachet, he did see the sense in being pragmatic. He intended to never starve again if he could help it, and meat was meat. When the wheelbarrow was laden, they set off, Hachet hauling along his bounty of meat. They had eight people to escort back to the safety of the hamlet. Gael and Dismas were to lead, the villagers would be behind them, and Chauncy was to defend the rear along with Hachet. Dismas prayed they would encounter no other challenges on the way back.
That was not to be the case. The dogs alerted them that something was on their tail, their fearful howls making the hair on Dismas' neck stand on end. He spared a glance behind, but with the crowd of people they were herding along it was hard to see what might be following them. Gael was pushing them as hard as they could manage, but weakened as they were they were moving at a snail's pace. Amongst their group they had a mother with her infant, a child, and even an elderly man, his hand still bloody from leaving the tell tale sign that had led to their rescue. They were going too slow. Anything that really wanted to catch them would.
And it did. The first thing Dismas heard was the splashing of water, and then a warning shout from Chauncy. They would be fighting, there was no choice in the matter. “Make room!” Dismas shouted, his leveled gun parting the crowd of villagers like a scythe through wheat. Already, Gael was rushing in to join whatever battle their rear guard was already fighting.
“Shit,” Dismas swore when he saw just what was plaguing them. Carrion eaters, attracted by the smell of the swine meat were crowding around Hachet and his wheelbarrow. The disgusting worm like creatures were circling him, their multi toothed maws clicking in anticipation of the feast that awaited them. One drew close, investigating, and Hachet brought down his axe, slicing it into two squirming halves. Meanwhile, Chauncy was engaged in beating back at least three of them, clubbing them with his cudgel as they threw themselves at him one after another. When Gael reached the fray she set to slicing them apart, but as fast as they were cut down more seemed to teem from the many tunnel openings and ancient drain pipes of the warrens. As Dismas took aim to shoot down another, he saw it, one far larger than the rest, sickly green in colour, its many eyes roving, the tentacles of its mouth searching every which way in hunt for what it had scented. Not a small little carrion crawler to be cut down like nothing, this was a full grown corpse eater that was coming for them.
Chauncy too had spotted it for he cried out, “Dump the meat! We need to run!”
“No,” was all Hachet replied.
One tentacle whipped out, tightening around one of the swine corpses upon the wheelbarrow. Hachet brought down his axe and sliced through it, and in a clean yet brutal cut the tentacle was parted from its owner. The corpse eater reared back, bellowing its anger at the unexpected assault, and then turned its full attention onto Hachet. There was no time for him to even react before it regurgitated a great heaping wave of acid and half digested pig onto him. To Dismas it all seemed to play out in slow motion- Chauncy's face twisting in horror and shock, Gael turning towards it, and the second horrible mouth peeling forward from the first, extending in slavering hunger towards Hachet. A single blink, and Hachet was held aloft, his body entwined by the tentacles, the second mouth pulling him into the primary maw of the beast.
While Dismas had agreed to taking the meat, he had never agreed to die for it. Why the idiot had refused to back down in the face of a corpse eater was beyond him, but a small evil part of Dismas whispered to leave him to his fate, run.
Chauncy and Gael had other ideas.
“I'll cover you!” Chauncy shouted, and then he sharply whistled. The dogs jumped to attention, circling Gael protectively as she moved in, her glaive cleaving a path though the small carrion eaters. She reached the corpse eater just as it spewed forth Hachet, dumping him to the ground. It would have plenty of time to finish eating him when this new threat was taken care of, for Gael did not hide her intent, but roared at the beast in defiance and challenge.
Why do they have to go and be so brave?
For much of his life Dismas had equated bravery with stupidity, and he was not a man drawn to such shows of heroism, but seeing Gael charging forward as she was...
This woman is going to change me, and I'll hate every moment of it.
He took aim. He knew the timing had to be perfect, or Gael might fall just as Hachet had. One shot, small target, but he knew he could, knew he had to. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, but even a moment spared to wipe it away could cost him. He saw it twitch, the tentacles pull back. Just as it reared he squeezed the trigger, and with a horrible spray of fluid one of its eyes burst. It was enough. The corpse eater lunged but missed, and as Gael side stepped it she brought down her glaive with murderous efficacy. The sound of it bursting apart turned his stomach, a sickening meaty squelching sound. It was dead.
At the death of the corpse eater, the carrion crawlers no longer threatened them. They turned on their own and began to feast, a cannibalistic orgy of consumption so grotesque Dismas could not bear to watch.
Chauncy knelt down, and taking hold of him turned Hachet over so that his face was not to the ground. Dismas had assumed him dead, at least until he saw that he was moving, weakly trying to push off Chauncy. “You had no right surviving that,” Chauncy said reproachfully, with just enough softness that Dismas knew he might have shed at least one tear for their truly rotten companion.
Hachet managed a weak snort to that. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“We must go, before others,” Gael said. No one saw fit to argue that. They had well overstayed their welcome in the warrens. It was as Chauncy was helping Hachet up that Dismas wondered just what toll this rescue might take, for after taking hold of him and getting him to his feet, Chauncy himself doubled over, coughing. Gael came to his side to support him so that he did not fall, rubbing his back as she did so, but the hacking coughs kept on. When Chauncy finally managed to raise his head, Dismas saw that his face was wet with tears, but he suspected they were not tears for Hachet so much as from strain.
“Just bad air. I'll be fine,” Chauncy said.
Dismas had trouble believing him. He coughed until their return to the hamlet, which they were lucky to reach with no further encounters. Chauncy was not alone, for most if not all of the villagers they had rescued had also begun to cough, horrible choking coughing fits that forced them to stop many more times than any of them would have liked.
All the people they had set out to save were safe. They had even gotten the meat home. The rescue was successful, but at what cost was yet to be seen.