"Grab on," he heard Jorah say. His back twitched, and he pretended he couldn't hear them. The wind had died, and the boy's words came painfully far.
"Huh?" He could hear Amelia's startled reply. Normally, she would have had a biting comment for him. It said much for her exhaustion that she didn't.
"Grab on, either me, or Karesh, or Kaya. Grab on, or I'll have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you," Jorah said.
"Huh…? But..?" Her replies came slowly. She hardly had her wits about her. Jorah patiently took the time to explain.
"We're in a rush. If you drop any further behind, you will be in danger. We cannot slow down for you. To keep you and your friend safe, you'll need to abandon your pride, and make your choice," Jorah said firmly.
"Lady Blackthorn..?" Amelia said, her voice frail.
"Sorry, Amelia. Do as he says. I wouldn't have brought you if I knew it was going to be this tough… It's so much worse than the path to the Hobgoblins," Blackthorn said. "You as well, Pauline."
"Fine… I suppose," Amelia said, admitting defeat.
"What do you want to do?" Jorah asked. "Who's shoulder do you want to use? Or do you want one of us to carry you."
"No way! I said fine. I'll just use your shoulder, I suppose," Amelia said. Even without looking, Oliver could hear the intense embarrassment in her voice.
"Uhm… Pauline, do you uhm..?" Kaya spoke up as well.
"Huh, shouldn't I be doing that?" Karesh asked, oblivious to his friend's struggle. "I'm much stronger."
"Take my bag then," Kaya said back, in a rare bit of assertiveness.
"Mm. Alright, but I reckon you're getting the raw end of the deal. It ain't my fault though, pal."
"Thank you, Kaya," Pauline said. From her voice, Oliver would have guessed that she was sick. It wouldn't have been surprising if she'd caught a cold. The three girls had dressed up warmly, but they were still girls. It was dresses and skirts that they wore. Oliver was sure that those clothes couldn't be anywhere near as warm as what the boys wore.
Verdant kept silent, but Oliver could feel the priest's eyes on his back. There was a weight to the man's stare. All that strength that he managed to push out with his spear when he was lucky enough to land it, that was the same strength that went through the man's eyes. It made Oliver shiver, as though the man could see straight through to his soul. He prayed that he could not.
Clenching his fist, Oliver willed himself even faster. Gods, it had been so long since he'd felt so frayed. His body seemed to be lying to him. He'd felt fine in the Hobgoblin clearing, just his normal pounding headache, but the closer they'd got to the Boulder Crab, the more they'd thought about it, the more his body acted up.
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was afraid, that this was fear, driving him so deep into the ground.
But no matter how much he willed that to be true, so that he could keep down the rising panic, Oliver knew it wasn't fear. He still felt fear aplenty, like an old friend. It was as familiar to him now as anger was. The two of them were his constant companions in the hardest of battles. No, it wasn't fear. He didn't know what it was.
It was just… void. The absence of something important. The lack of foundation that he'd found through Ingolsol and Claudia. It was like walking around without skin, his flesh vulnerable and exposed to the elements.
Finally, he crested a steeper hill, and made it past a jumble of rocks. He knew before he'd even arrived – trusting in his reading of the map – that he would find the Boulder Crab there.
Resting against the side of a tall cliff nestling in the space offered by a mound of shattered rocks, the beast sat, its aura otherworldly. The mere presence of the beast, unmoving, was enough to shrink a man. It was like the air was thicker, more liquid than gas.
The sheer size of the thing took his breath away. A Boulder Crab in name, and a Boulder Crab in actuality. Its main body was circular, and chissled, with a small fanged mouth, relative to the rest of its body. Its eyes hung off its rounded body in two large and hard-looking rocky ovals. They were currently closed.
It had two monstrous claws resting on the ground in front of it. They were a different colour to its body. Its main frame was a rocky grey that blended in with the mountains, but the claws were a green, like grass, and the hairs that grew off them seemed to be attempting to imitate that very environmental fact.
If he didn't know to look for it, and they were in a different landscape, with grass and rock instead of snow and ice, then he could quite easily see himself overlooking it. The book that he'd read had called them opportunistic predators. They would remain seated for days, or even weeks, until a passing herd of buffalo, or something large drew close enough for it to pounce.
All it took was a single one of those beasts, and it would be fed enough for the next six months. The creatures rarely moved. They spent most of their lives in perpetual hibernation, unless threatened.
The particular Boulder Crabs of the Grand Forest were different to the ones found out in the wild, though. They'd adapted due to the somewhat frequent attempts to hunt them. That put humans on their list of prey – and it also shortened their hibernation cycles. They moved more frequently, and used a steady supply of human or monster flesh to keep up with that new fact.
Whether it was their scent or sound that alerted it, or the mere presence of danger, it was hard to tell. The creature's massive ears flicked open with an audible click, as though someone had just hammered a well-fitting piece of wood in place.