The quiet of a lonely beach on Crete was interrupted by the sound of foam smacking against the pebbles that sloped down to the sand. Immediately, the sound of women talking joined the beat of the slapping as Gabriella and Chloe approached the little enclave of paradise that they planned on spending the afternoon occupying. “Nice, just as beautiful as the concierge said,” Gabbi remarked, earning an eager nod of agreement from Chloe. “This is great! Our first beach day as wife and wife!” she exclaimed. The two had gotten married in the US but wanted to take their honeymoon as far away from their home state of Michigan as they could. Gabbi used much of her salary from her first year as a full-fledged software engineer to fund this tradition-mandated excursion. Chloe couldn’t contribute, being that she was still finishing nursing school (in fact, this was the only week of the year she could spare not working). But that was fine. Gabbi didn’t care who pays, so long as she can spend time with her. So many things in Gabriella’s life cause her stress, but it always seems so much more manageable when Chloe’s around. It was a big reason why she knew she wanted to marry her! Not to mention her cheeriness, her wit, her insane cooking skills, the way her light brown hair shone in the sun…

“What?” Chloe chuckled, making Gabbi realize she had been staring at Chloe, not saying anything while she lost herself in adoration for her wife. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I might love you,” Gabbi teased. “Shut up!” Chloe laughed, placing her bag and a cooler down on a clearing of gravel just before the beach. Gabbi put a large tote bag down next to it and got out the sunscreen, two beach towels, and two hats. Standard issue beach lounging gear, she remembered what one of her mothers always called that particular set of equipment when they’d go to the beach in her native Florida. What a strange woman. Did I inherit any of that? Gabbi turned to take a bottle of water and a hard lemonade from the cooler, then removed her black flip flops, setting them next to Chloe’s odd choice of footwear. “I have to ask again, why crocs, Clo?”

Chloe shrugged, “What? They’re comfy! And trust me, one of these days they will be trendy. Then you’ll see!”

Gabbi shook her head, “I guess anything’s possible. That brand is what, like 20 years old or something--”

“25 years old. The first croc was made in 2002.”

“Oh, excuse me! Well, if a company which makes… that can stay alive that long then maybe it will have its time.”

“See, you see it my way! That’s why I married you, dontchaknow!” Chloe giggled, tapping her bright blue crocs with her toes, still with the fresh white nail color she got for the wedding. Gabbi put sunscreen on the front side of her body, then handed her wife the bottle. Chloe took her white T-shirt off and began liberally applying the cream to herself. “Gabs, get my back, will ya?” She handed the sunscreen back to Gabbi, who obliged her lover, “Now I have to ask, Gabbi, why are you still wearing that one-piece? I feel like you’ve never worn anything other than that to the beach in all the time I’ve known you!”

Gabbi snorted, “Well, I got a good deal on it! And it survived so much, I just want to see how long it lasts, you know? Plus, as you well know, yellow is my favorite color.” She finished applying sunscreen to her wife, and turned around for Chloe to reciprocate on the exposed parts of her back and neck. Chloe began rubbing, “Of course, I know, I know. I guess I’ll just be the one innovating on the style, then. Crocs and bikinis, it’ll be the newest sensation, just you wait!” Chloe closed the sunscreen bottle and got some water from the cooler and a large inflatable beach ball from her bag. Then the women took their hats, drinks, and towels and headed down to the beach to play in the ocean, get tipsy, and soak up the sun. Little did they know, someone else was there at the beach, with very different plans for the day…

----- Edge of the Great Desert, North of Wormwood, by the Forbidden Women’s Path -----

The relative quiet of the massive desert just before the mighty sea was interrupted by a series of short earthquakes, making the sound of sharp thundercracks. Azrael paid little attention to it, covering himself deeper in his leaf blankets under his luxury tarp. Just women, he thought. May be a problem, but they’re probably going to the desert. Azrael and his group of males were camped on the crags just before the desert, around six miles from the Forbidden Women’s Path; the name being from the way giants visiting the desert stuck to one main line that sloped most gently down the craggy rocks. Few women deviated from this path, so it was generally safe for their tiny counterparts to camp up among the great stones. Despite the location’s provision of safety from women, few men bothered to live here or even traverse it due to its challenging terrain. That was essential for a bandit group like the Bloodfangs, the gang Azrael ran with. It was a good arrangement: all you needed to do was rob one caravan a week, or maybe loot a village once a month, and you’d be set to actually enjoy life, something of a rarity for a wild man. Being in a good raider group meant as much stealing and killing as it did drinking, carousing, and bedding the finest men this side of the sea can offer. Of course, for all the good times, there were still plenty of bad times. This past year was most certainly the latter. Too many botched robberies, too many drunken brawls that got out of hand, and a bad outbreak of disease had killed or run off much of the band. A year ago, they were 120 men strong; now they numbered only 30. Still enough to hit caravans, but we can’t stay in one place long. Hence, Azrael reasoned, why their leader (and the group’s namesake) Sardis the Bloodfang had them cowering up among the rocks. Doesn’t explain why we’ve been here nearly a month, but maybe he’s waiting for the settlements nearby to get soft and complacent. Sardis was normally decisive, honestly impulsive at times. That even he would be this cautious underscored the peril this gang found themselves in.

For his part, Azrael appreciated this cautiousness. Patience is not a quality often instilled in young men; rather, it is a curse of the old, built and reinforced through the anguish of witnessing the effects of hasty judgement and rash decisions. Azrael certainly felt cursed, being well into his forties. Men do not typically live this long; life is tragic, painful, and short. Most wild men die before their 30th birthday, and those who do end up making it past that often wish they hadn’t. Azrael was not like most men. He wanted life, and the thought of dying, even to relieve his suffering, terrified him. It was why he joined the bandits in the first place, not as a warrior or a scout, but as an herbalist and a healer. This, along with his age, garnered him immense privilege and respect, not to mention a guarantee of safety. Any warrior worth his salt will defend his unit’s healer with the might and fury of a woman, as his old unit commander used to say, back in Azrael’s time in a mercenary band.

Azrael listened to the thunderous steps of the women, until he heard three large quakes, followed by the relative stillness of what seemed to be women moving their bodies, but not their feet. Hmm, what are they doing? His curiosity now piqued, he got up and stepped out of his tent. There, he saw some men standing by Sardis, who was on the ground sharpening a wooden shortspear, staring intently at the giant women in the far distance. Azrael could see them rubbing some kind of white paste on each other. I’ve seen other women do that before, elsewhere. Is it some religious ritual? Are deserts holy places for women? Maybe they worship some desert or sea goddess? It hadn’t occurred to him that women would even have something to worship, being so powerful on their own. Azrael gently pushed past the men and up to Sardis, standing right beside him. Sardis was a behemoth: at 3mm tall and with the strength of a beetle he was easily the biggest man Azrael had ever seen. Despite the fact that Sardis was sitting, Azrael was standing at eye level with him. It was enough to cause most men to uncontrollably shake around Sardis. Nevertheless, Azrael spoke as if he were talking with his nephew, “Sardis, I see that look. What are you going to do?”

“I’m getting this gang back on its feet. You see what’s going on. One more botched job and we’re done for.”

Azrael scratched his bushy beard. He couldn’t argue, the facts were on Sardis’s side. “Right, but what exactly are you planning? You want to, what, see if anyone runs from the women then hit ‘em then? Ambush ‘em if they get up into the crags?”

Sardis put the spear down, “No. We’re thieving from the women.”

Azrael had heard, seen, and done plenty of crazy, downright stupid things in his long life, but even he was taken aback. Stealing from women was a guaranteed death sentence. Even if they don’t see you, giant women have a tendency to stir up all kinds of fear-stricken bugs, birds, and animals. Provided one survives detection or collateral damage from all of them, women also have a tendency of moving the massive objects of their world unpredictably, with obvious fatal consequences for the weak, fragile male near her. Robbing women was not a move made by the desperate, it was a move made by the suicidal. Azrael, too shocked to pull Sardis aside for a private scolding, tried to talk the Goliath out of his foolishness publicly, “W-What? Sardis, if you’re dumb enough to think—”

“Don’t give me that, old man.” Sardis stood up to his full height and towered over the healer. This tactic could get a younger man to soil himself and fall in line, but Azrael’s age gave him the stubbornness to resist intimidation. Sardis continued, “We can’t go on hitting men. Too many know our tactics and know how we run jobs. Worse, no one respects us anymore. If they aren’t killing us, they’re laughing at us. And you know, a raider’s only as good as his reputation. If we’re laughing stocks, we may as well slit our throats now.”

Azrael could see where Sardis was going, “Holy shit. You want to rob these women for the notoriety. That’s…”

Sardis got louder, now turning toward the men assembled behind him, “It’ll make us legends. Gods. We could get whatever we want, go wherever we want, fuck whoever we want. Just on reputation alone. You’ve all run with me for long enough. You know how they all see us. They’re wrong about us. We know we’re strong, capable, dangerous fucking men, and we’ll show them!”

He motioned to the men, “Who was strong enough to fight off Lord Smyrna’s army while outnumbered 3 to 1?”

“Bloodfangs!” The crowd responded.

“Who was clever enough to outmaneuver the Rangers of Ephesus and hit three caravans in the same night?”

“Bloodfangs!!”

“And who’s brave enough to rob from those women over in the desert!”

“BLOODFANGS!” The crowd cheered as they ran off to break camp and make for the massive structures the women left behind on their meandering into the great desert. Azrael swallowed, smiling at the men to feign confidence and hide his anxiety.

We are so dead.

----- The Beach, four hours later ----

Gabbi woke up from an alcohol-induced nap with her head on Chloe’s shoulder as Chloe lay on her back, a book she had been reading closed to her side, having wrapped her arm around Gabbi tightly. Their time at the beach had transitioned from playing in the shallow waters to a relaxing lounging under a palm tree. Gabbi nuzzled Chloe to get her attention, “Hey. How was it?”

Chloe moved to her side, bringing her arm off Gabbi as she began to gently stroke her wife’s wavy black hair, “It was alright. I didn’t get much out of the love interest. Her character was really awfully done. It’s like the author has no clue how to write about women in love!”

Gabbi cooed, “Awww. I’m sorry, hon. We got what, two more hours of good daylight? Let’s tan for a bit!”

Chloe smiled, “Sure! The tan lotion is in my bag.”

“I’ll go get it. And some more lemonade…” She winked at Chloe as she slowly got up and adjusted her swimsuit. Shaking the sand that had gotten in her hair, she sauntered over to the gravel clearing and rifled through the bag for the lotion, when she noticed movement by the cooler. She looked closer, and saw… it was a man! Then she realized he wasn’t alone. There were twenty, maybe even thirty of the little things all swarming their stuff! “EEEKKK!” Gabbi threw the lotion bottle at the first man, pulverizing him. She sprinted away, unknowingly kicking up bits of sand and gravel. Chloe, already up hearing the commotion, met Gabbi halfway up the beach, “Woah, woah, what’s the matter, babe!?”

Gabbi stammered, “Fucking—ack, fucking men! All over our shit!” Her face was beet red and she was shaking. Chloe responded, “Okay, okay. Why don’t I take care of them for you? You head back and move our towels to get out of the shade. Sound good?” Gabbi took a deep breath, calming down from her fear spiral, “Okay, sounds good. I’m sorry I got upset. Is it alright if I hug you?” Chloe held back tears at her consideration, “Of course. Come here,” they embraced each other tightly, and Chloe kissed the top of Gabbi’s head. Gabbi’s shaking subsided, and they parted to perform their duties.

----- Wormwood Territory, just beside the Forbidden Women’s Path, 1 hour prior ------

“Go on, Bloodfangs! Good luck with your theivin’!” The fat man with the large hat which signified his importance spat at Sardis, who only clutched his fists to hold his rage back. Sardis couldn’t do what he normally would do when mocked this way, that is, crush the man’s head with one fist, as he and his raiders were surrounded by around 100 males. 100 males who had just relieved the Bloodfangs of most of their weapons and supplies. “If you happen to survive, be sure to come on back! We’ll return your equipment, I promise!” The fat man howled in laughter as he motioned for his men to head back to their village a few miles away. “This is why we should have gone around this field, Sardis. We know they’re protective of their territory,” chastised Azrael, who was clearly getting on Sardis’s nerves with his criticisms. “Enough,” Sardis retorted. “You are not the leader. Nor are you my father. I don’t answer to you.” Azrael just scowled, as his tolerance of the giant before him sunk to new lows. The march had been awful thus far. In the few hours of walking to the women’s supplies they had lost all their food, all their camping equipment, and now almost all their weapons. All they now had was the clothes on their backs, and a few climbing spikes. And those were only left as a joke by that militia leader. Oh so funny. Azrael thought about how much more funny it would be to see one of the women tear the fat man apart, but his attention quickly turned back to the journey ahead, nearly finished as the women’s supplies were in sight. I have to focus. There’s a good chance we won’t make it out alive. Azrael was not a coward, but neither was he slavishly loyal. If things do go bad, he’ll run for it, find a new outfit to join, or perhaps go to a village where no one knows his name and settle down. He could easily make a living as a healer; all men needed someone to treat their health ailments. Treating dysentery and flea bite wounds all day sounds… boring, but it’s better than being dead. Probably should have left this group months ago, anyway. But regret will not help him live through this. With a long sigh, he watched as Sardis waved for the men to move out, and followed solemnly behind, not bothering to hide his pessimism anymore.

The final approach to the women’s supplies impressed upon the men their true insignificance. The massive towers, bigger than any man-made object they had ever seen, filled them with foreboding. Each male was fixated with dread, wondering if they were trifling with the gods, tempting fate too much, or just stupid for even trying this and not simply stabbing Sardis and running away. Sardis, for his part, seemed more confident than ever. Grinning with anticipation, he seemed to already be imagining himself with an army at his back and a beautiful man from some tavern many miles away by his side. He barked out his orders, “All right, men to my left, go for the tan tower by the palm tree. Men to the right, head for the red tower. Bring everything you can carry. Burner, Cutter, go search the black platforms. Caie, Old Man, you come with me. We’re going to the blue caves over there. Any man comes back empty-handed, I’ll break his legs and let the women have their way. You have your orders! Go! Bring us glory!” The men shouted battle cries, either out of fear or frenzied loyalty, and sprinted to their dooms.

Sardis’s party approached their destination fast, Sardis carrying a large set of wooden spikes. Azrael could already see why: the entrance to the blue caves, what he guessed to be footwear for the giants, was high off the ground. Great, climbing. With my back? 50/50 chance I fall and die right here, he thought, grimacing at himself. Nonetheless, he followed the massive leader up to the wall of the cave, and looked afield to see where the others went. As he did, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he saw one of the women walking toward them! Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sardis, woman approaching!” He shouted, with Sardis already half of the way up the footwear. “I feel her. Don’t worry, just climb once I get up.” It was odd, even for a fearless beast like Sardis, to be so serene when an angel of death was fast approaching. Azrael began to grow suspicious. Why did he bring me and Caie here? Neither of us are good fighters or particularly agile, boy’s a cook and I’m old. He lost his train of thought as he saw two spikes fall before him. Sardis shouted from the top of the blue platform, “Come on, climb! Old man first, then you, boy.” Azrael grabbed the spikes and began his slow trek upwards. After excruciating effort, likely permanently damaging some ligaments in his arms, he finally made it up, throwing the spikes out and listening for Caie to begin his climb, a feat he accomplished far faster than the seasoned healer. With all of them up, they pressed into the footwear, its odd flooring squishing and giving slightly as they stepped. The smell added to its alien quality. The smell of grime and sweat, of course, but also a strange, sweet scent. Something resembling fruit. Do women use oils to hide their scent? A bit like the wealthier males in the big cities. Interesting. And why are there holes everywhere? Footwear that covers the entire foot shouldn’t have holes, right? What’s the point of them? Are these some sort of status symbol for women? Azrael would have pondered this more, but as they reached the end of the footwear, Sardis stopped and turned to his two followers,

“Alright, old man, you’re smart, so you probably figured out I didn’t pick you at random to come with me.”

Azrael was perplexed by his tone, he spoke like a child admitting to breaking his fathers’ property, “Why aren’t you more concerned about the woman, Sardis? She’s here, she can probably see us.” As if on cue, their eardrums were nearly shattered by a massive scream. The woman had spotted them! They heard a loud crash, the loudest thing any of them ever heard, as a massive brown object flew at a male standing near the red tower, killing him instantly. Sardis just looked as she ran away, “This was never going to work. We’ve been limping towards death for the last month. These women aren’t my chance at glory, they’re my chance to escape. Our chance to escape.” Azrael stayed silent, eyes wide with shock. Sardis continued, “Caie has a friend of an uncle with access to stowage on a ship. It’s bound for another continent, a few months away, but the journey’s been done before, and no one there knows anything about anyone here. We can start over. The three of us. A new gang, new targets, new opportunities. Hell, we could give up robbing, start a real mercenary band. You came from that life, you know how good being on the right side of the law can be.” Azrael stammered, “I- I don’t know what to say. You’d really leave? Why get your men killed?” Sardis glanced away in shame, “Loose ends. Can’t have someone follow us to settle a score. They were dead men anyway. If not the women, then something else. Don’t waste time thinking about them.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was talking to Azrael. Sardis looked back at the old healer, “What do you say? You want to run? You want to live?”

“I- I don’t… okay, Sardis. I’ll go.” Azrael didn’t like it, but he’d had doubts about their survival so long that any chance of getting away was worth taking. Even if it was so… underhanded. Sardis was a cold, ruthless killer, yes, but rarely did he deceive. He just isn’t a conniver. Immediately, Azrael doubted Caie and his “connection” and expected betrayal from the boy. He’ll try to sell us into slavery, or maybe get us imprisoned. We both have big bounties. Payout like that for a young man would set him up good. But in spite of the obviousness of the trap, it was his only option. “So, what now? Do we just run for it?” Sardis shook his head, “No. We wait. The woman will probably come back and kill everyone she sees. We just hide out, and once she leaves, we break for it. If she tries to take the cave, we hop out of one of the holes and sprint to the grass,” just from his tone Azrael could tell Sardis was regretting this. Your regret will deepen when we get out of here. If we get out. The three men looked on as the other raiders frantically tried to climb their targets, not able to make any progress, when they saw the other woman, taller and more slender than the first, approach her belongings. She had an expression that sent shivers down Azrael’s spine. It wasn’t revulsion, fear, or even anger.

It was glee.

----- The Beach, Crete ----

Chloe had to admit it: while yes, men are disgusting, and yes, seeing her newlywed wife upset does not feel great, she kind of looked forward to ‘dealing’ with the men. There’s just something about their movements, how they seem to almost grasp the ability to predict her actions and dodge her steps that makes crushing them oddly relaxing and engaging. Given her abject boredom from the trash novel she just burned through, this might help her achieve that nirvana of pleasure she was supposed to experience during a honeymoon. She walked over to their stuff and saw the men frantically scurrying around, looking for any way to get into one of the bags. Quick little things, aren’t you! she thought, Yeah, this’ll be fun. Chloe just stood there for a second, wriggling her toes in the gravel as she planned out her attacks. There were about ten men by Gabbi’s bag, fourteen men by their cooler, and two men by their shoes. Okay, cooler first, then bag, then shoes? Sure, let’s go. She went to the cooler, seeing a group of males trying to flee toward the crocs. Nope, not in there! She swept her right foot over the gravel, pushing the men into a pile, and pressed the ball of her foot down, squeezing them into a gory juice. The squelching of their bodies felt wonderful on her skin. Next, the others at the foot of the cooler. Bringing a heel up parallel with her pelvis, she aimed a powerful stomp on most of the males. They tried to get out of the way, but they were just too small. Her heel slammed into them, utterly annihilating the insects and sending the surrounding males flying. She more gently pressed her heel on each of the stragglers, killing them all in a series of instant pops. Mmmm, so relaxing.

She walked up to Gabbi’s bag, blocking the men’s escape by spreading her legs out slightly past her hips. Five of them were on the strap of the bag, trying to climb up the cloth ladder into safety, while the other five sat at the base of the bag, unable to move anywhere. She looked down at the men at the base, her gaze rousing them to action. Ah, there it is, the recognition. One man tried running between her feet, so he will be the first victim here. She lifted her foot, toes pointed downwards, and shoved her big toe right on the insect, splattering his body and sending blood and guts outward onto one of the other males. Feeling a rare twinge of pity for the little thing, she swiftly crushed him under the same toe. The other males began their escape attempt, with two running away from the bag, but one running to the bag to try to climb its wall. Chloe dealt with the two would-be escapees by gently placing her toes over them, plucking them up and gripping them tight. One quick scrunch of her toes mashed the males into jam and stimulated the sensitive underside of Chloe’s foot, eliciting a small groan of satisfaction. Flicking their remains out, she turned her attention to the last one left here. She thought of all the myriad ways she could kill him, but decided she’d get more pleasure out of killing his friends too, so she simply pointed her toes forward and kicked him, vaporizing his top half leaving a tiny, bloody stump next to the beach bag. Next, she squatted over the five males at the bag strap. Y’know, I could use a drink, Chloe thought, stretching her body over to the cooler and grabbing a hard lemonade from the icy chest. Looming over the men, she opened the can, took a small sip, then said out loud, “You boys want some? Here, try it!” She poured a smattering of the alcohol onto the males, washing them out in a flood of sugary liquid. She looked on in amusement as the tiny bugs struggled and drowned, some of them smacking into bits of gravel. She picked up a handful of pebbles and held it over the surviving males, dropping the load and burying them alive. She stood up, satisfied that the bag had been cleansed of males.

Lastly, the two on her wife’s flip flops. They had been running from the strap to the heel, but as she approached they froze in place. Oh, you like her flip flops, do you? Have you seen the underside? She imagined how she’d taunt them if they could understand her. But instead, she used her blood-speckled foot to brush the bugs off her wife’s footwear, and grabbed the flip flop. She held it over the men, bringing it up and down as if building up for a strike, then slammed it down on the gravel. The men had no chance to even perceive the foam coming down on them as they were instantly smashed into red goo. Chloe surveyed their things once more, and seeing no more males, got the lotion off the ground where Gabbi threw it, and looked back towards the beach. Gabbi was sitting cross-legged in the sun, her swimsuit off, looking at Chloe with a grin of gratitude. Chloe skipped over, ready to throw a nice tan in with this lovely day.

----- The Great Blue Cave -----
“What have I done?” Sardis looked shaken at the wholesale slaughter he caused. A look of crushing regret was not one he wore often. “We’ll be fine, boss,” Caie tried consoling the man, “They were dead weight anyway. The two of you, you’re the brains and brawn of this gang. Always have been.” Azrael wanted to smack the insolent ass-kissing tone right out of Caie, but instead he simply tried to distract Sardis from the manipulation, “They were good men. You gave them a family. Even if only for a few years, they had family here.” Sardis sunk to his knees, “And now they’re dead. Nothing to burn or bury. Just broken flesh.” Caie stared

forward, unfazed, “Now, we escape. The woman left. Let’s go and—”

“NO. We stay for a moment. I want to remember them. Every face, every name, every memory I have. I will honor them all. We wait.” Sardis growled with such ferocity it even intimidated Azrael. He and Caie simply stood back as Sardis bowed his head, saying a name, reciting a long prayer, then saying another name and repeating. He’s sending them all off. That’s a decent man.

While they stood still, letting the ambient noise of the desert wash over them, Azrael found himself transfixed by the brutality employed by the giant woman. He had seen ruthless slaughter before, but it was usually men doing the slaughtering; a woman’s sadistic rampage inspired a more primal, visceral terror in her witnesses. It wasn’t just her size. Azrael had seen apocalyptic floods during the rainy parts of the year. Villages and towns full of males washed away to the sea. When he was a mercenary, he had survived a tree branch falling and crushing the entire band except him and a smattering of lucky males out of formation. Those times were frightening but not like this. The emotion of seeing that woman crush his comrades was truly paralyzing. He wondered if the males raised in captivity, destined to be used for whatever purposes their giant mistresses deign for them, experience this fear when their time is up. Was it his taste for life which produced this awe, this reinforcement of his utter worthlessness? Or is there something common to the male species which drowns them in true fear when faced with a woman’s wrath?

Hours passed as Sardis exhausted the list of all the men who had, at any time, served under him. Whether they left, got arrested, or just plain died, he sang their names to the heavens, and blessed their memories with prayer. Had they not just survived a mass slaughter through sheer luck, Azrael may have been brought to tears by the whole thing. He found his confidence shaken, his detachment from the stress of the situation failing to stop fear from gripping him. I may truly die here. I am so stupid. Why did I not leave!? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Azrael closed his eyes, using a mental technique to balance himself into a less emotional state. I am on the sea, on a ship. It rocks to the right, then it rocks to the left, then it rocks to the right, then it rocks to the left… Slowly, he calmed himself a little, now just a major problem away from total mental breakdown rather than a minor problem. Meanwhile, Caie was spending his time getting angrier and flagrantly displaying his cowardice. He grew impatient with the memorializing, clearly nervous about being near the women, so close to death. He needs to learn to be comfortable with the threat of dying. He’s going to live on the edge of a knife for the rest of his life. Azrael wished he respected the boy more; then, he might just try to teach him something about life and courage. Caie sighed as Sardis stood, “Boss, you finally done? Every man accounted for? Then let’s get going.”

“You need more respect for the dead, little one. You helped me ensure the death of 27 of those names.”

Caie snorted, “I don’t give a fuc- “

He stopped as the men’s stomachs all dropped at the sound they heard. Buzzing. Loud buzzing. Something’s coming. “SHIT. Duck!” Azrael snapped at the two as he scrambled to the floor, hoping to avoid grabbing the attention of whatever was out there. Almost as quickly as it came, the buzzing receded. Azrael stayed down, knowing it was likely still around, it just flew up into the trees to survey more of its hunting ground. The possibilities of what exactly it was were nearly endless, but before he could go through the list in his head, Caie shouted at an unreasonable volume, “FUCK THIS. We need to go, NOW!”

“Shhhh! It’ll hear you!” Azrael wanted to punch the foolish man even more now. “We just have to wait. If it doesn’t find fresh food, it’ll leave.”

“No, we need to flee! If we wait, something else’ll come and it may find us!”

“Stop. You’re panicking and you’re speculating. Be rational, and fucking stay calm. You want to risk getting eaten or stung to death, go ahead. But we’re staying.” Azrael glanced over at Sardis, his eyes glazed over as uncharacteristic panic began to surface in the giant man.

Caie spat back at Azrael, “That’s fine by me! Stay here and die with your shit leader! I won’t mourn your names,” He turned and leapt out of one of the holes, and sprinted out toward one of the blood stains, where a small pouch of supplies remained somewhat intact from the giant’s rampage. As he ran, out in the open, the loud buzzing came back.

* (gore here)

I warned him. Azrael tried to assuage his guilt as he awaited the inevitable. The source of the buzzing revealed itself: a massive winged monster, with black and yellow stripes wrapping along its body, and a stinger more than half the size of a man. Azrael knew it by many names, and heard many stories of what it could do. He’d heard of just one of these things annihilating an entire village of males. And Caie was just a single, very slow, very conspicuous man. Easy prey. I warned him. He looked on in horror as the flying beast dove on Caie, knocking him over with its legs. It watched him for a brief moment, letting Caie truly absorb the horror of its form, until it shot its mandibles down, compacting his body in a sickening, wet crunch. The beast chewed him over and over until Caie became homogenous paste. Then, it flew away. Sardis asked, nearly whispering, “Why didn’t it swallow? W-w-w-why- “

* (gore's over)

“It’s going to feed him to its young.” Azrael could only hold shock in his heart, no other emotion was left. I warned him. I warned him. I warned him. I. Warned. Him. The old man couldn’t take it anymore. Everything he said to do, they did the opposite. And they paid the price. He wanted to run, just like Caie. To sprint into the leaves and keep running and never look back. But he knew it was foolish to do that. To leave would get him killed. To leave the cave… is death. To leave the cave is death! I understand now. Azrael felt a shift in himself as everything clicked in his head. I…I must stay here. Where it is safe. He sat upright in place, feeling the strange springy floor barely shift with his weight.

Sardis looked even more concerned, “Old man? What are you doing? We need a plan. What should we do?”

Azrael just ignored him.

Sardis’s face ran red, “Old one. Azrael! I don’t know what to do! Help— “

THUD…

THUD…

THUD…

“Footsteps. Two sets of them. They’re coming back.” Azrael said flatly.

Sardis choked back tears as the fear finally overwhelmed him, “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T DIE!”

Azrael chuckled, “We won’t die. Not in here. Not unless we’re disrespectful.”

Sardis spat, walking away from the crazy old man, “Fuck you! You’ve lost it! If you don’t help me out of here, I… I- “

He stopped talking as he saw the taller woman slide her foot in the shoe. Her gargantuan toes, still decorated with flecks of gore, slid at the men like fire ants charging a rival colony. Azrael just stayed in place, eyes shut, while Sardis, a good twenty paces from Azrael, turned to sprint away from the woman, but he tripped on the rubber floor. Sardis the Bloodfang let out one scream of abject terror, the only one he ever made in his life, as the toes slid over him, smearing him flat. The woman moved her foot back and forth to fully smother him, as if he were just lint irritating her foot. Her toes sat just before the last member of the Bloodfangs. Azrael turned around and, prostrating himself, began to pray to the owner of his new home. His new temple. I understand now. I live here. I carry your grace, your message. This was a test for me. I understand now. I understand. I am yours.

Goddess.

----- Michigan, Spring 3 years later -----

“Virtual yoga? What’s the point of that?” Chloe expressed skepticism at her wife, who stood before her in black yoga pants and a tight white tank top. Gabbi smirked, her snark spewing forth against her will, “To exercise, Chloe. It’s like the same class we’ve been doing for the last year, but without all the sweaty, talky people.”

“Yeah, exactly! The best part of group exercise is the mindless small talk before and after the class!”

“Well, it’s still a live class, not recorded! You can just… make small talk in the chat, I guess,” Gabbi somewhat expected this from Chloe, the more social one of the couple. She also knew exactly what would get Chloe to at least try a virtual class, “not to mention, you don’t have to drive. In fact, we don’t even have anything to leave the house for today!”

This was a revelation to Chloe, who deeply resented driving and being in cars in all forms. Her frown faded from her face, and she nodded slowly, “Okay, okay. Let’s try it. Just one time. But you better not be lying about that chat! And don’t forget, we still have a ton of work to do on the house!”

Gabbi nodded, acknowledging the fact that their new (or rather, new to them) house needed some love and care. It was their first house, and for their generation getting even a dilapidated house was an accomplishment. A prize won through sacrifice, grit, luck, and me being stingy as shit, Gabbi regretted some of the things she and Chloe put off getting or doing. No vacations after their honeymoon, no new cars, she even put off grad school so she could pay her way through once they weren’t contributing every extra dollar they had to making a down payment. And the mortgage insurance, and the lender’s fee, and the sales tax… God, being a responsible adult sucks. All the fiscal strain necessitated frequent (cheap) destressing to avoid crumpling into a formless blob of worry, and yoga with Chloe certainly helped. Gabbi was glad her wife was willing to exercise with her, despite it being from home.

The women cleared out the front room to make space for their movements. Chloe rolled out their mats while Gabbi joined the video call for the class. “Here, I’ll get the camera on so everyone can see us. See, basically like an in-person class!” Gabbi waved at the instructor on the screen to make sure she could see them. The instructor responded to Gabbi’s greeting, “Hey gals! Welcome, glad you could join. Hi Chloe! I love your leggings!” This instructor was so positive it sometimes stung. But Chloe seemed to respond well, clearly happy her purple camo leggings got someone’s attention. The instructor and Chloe made small talk while the rest of the class joined, and soon enough they were off on a one-hour yoga session.

----- Fenrir’s Leap, in the Women’s Great Hall, 16 hours ago -----

The still, cold air permeated the cavern where the women stored and made their food. Darvin coughed, finding the air increasingly intolerable. How the hells do they live like this? My nose has bled every night, it’s so dry! He thought, as he tied up his leaf pack. Darvin was on a platform very high up off the ground, where the women place their massive utensils and actually prepare their food. He had gotten up here for one purpose: scavenging. Most males content themselves with the crumbs and discarded food on the floor, but the real valuable stuff is up here. Fenrir’s Leap is a common landing point for climbers, a little jut where the surface seemed to have been broken. Climbing it was the safest way up, since the surface was the shortest cantilever distance from the wall below supporting it. Darvin was an experienced climber, but even he wasn’t doing this totally alone. Nor would I do this for food. I’m fine with food from outside. But men pay extra for women’s food. Darvin was contracted with a scavenger’s caravan, the bulk of which was currently camped at the base of the large structure. He, along with three others, climb the structures their caravan master says to climb, then they loot the place for all they can find. Today was a good day: packs full of sugar, bits of fruit and grain, even some meat! To top things off, no captive males complicating their scavenging. Sometimes the women leave out on the counter boxes full of men they intend to cook and eat. The mere sight of a food male, who tend to be much bigger than the typical wild male, made Darvin uneasy. They cry for help and struggle to escape, but always in vain. The prisons they find themselves in are often unbreakable. We never can help them, much as we may want to. A pile of bundled leaves containing the day’s loot sat just before the edge, as Tam, another climber, affixed the leaves to a strand of rope. This was an ingenious innovation of the caravanners. One man climbs up with a pulley on a stick attached to his back. The pulley has on it a long rope joined at the ends. Once the man is on top, he affixes the stick to the surface and another man at the bottom pulls the rope so he can move the bundles, hooked to the rope at the surface, down to their waiting pack insects. Climbing with that thing on your back is awful. So heavy. And too easy to get tangled. The skill needed to not only climb up, but scavenge and package efficiently, meant Darvin and his comrades were very well paid.

Darvin finished the last pack of goods and sent it down the pulley, cutting a small rune in the side of it to signal that the men were done and were coming back. He and his climbers huddled together. “Okay, time to pick the carrier” Darvin said to the men. Getting the contraption up was hard, but back down? Even harder. The thing was expensive, so they couldn’t just let it fall. One man had to do it, the rest could just rappel down the rope beforehand. Darvin pulled out a pair of dice carved from pebbles. As usual, they go in pairs, “Tyr, you and me first. Evens or odds?”

Tyr looked solemnly at Darvin, “Odds,” he said quietly. Darvin shook the dice and threw it on the ground, the men crouching to see where they landed. One die at 2, one die at 3. “Okay, you’re good. Get going, we’ve been up here too long.” While no one was really in charge, Darvin was their de facto leader, even though all the men but Tam were older than him. Darvin turned to the fourth man at the surface, Hyun, and motioned for him to choose. “Evens,” came the reply, more confident than Tyr’s. Darvin shook and threw the dice again. One die at 1. One die at 5. Darvin nodded, “Lucky. Get out of here. We’ll see you at the bottom.” Hyun grunted as he stood back up and attached a hook to the rope, disappearing over the edge. Darvin turned for the last time to Tam, “Alright, evens or odds?”

Tam stared back at Darvin, silent. That’s bad. Usually, he can’t shut up. Darvin tired to get something out of him, “Hey, what’s up? You’ve been distant this whole climb. You not feeling up to it?”

Tam responded, “No, boss. I can do it. It’s just… should we really be doing this? Stealing from women, I mean. It feels wrong.” Darvin was taken aback a little. Not only had they stolen from these women before, Tam was rambunctious, willing to do whatever was necessary to get the job done, and typically he did so with a wide, somewhat psychotic grin. Darvin did not expect regret from him.

“Well, the women won’t notice this stuff being gone. Besides, life doesn’t seem all that hard for them. I’m sure they can manage to lose a few crumbs.”

Tam pondered this a bit, then his face dropped a little, “I mean, I’m not worried about that. It’s just they’re so much… more than us. More powerful, more complex, more important. The world needs them so much more than it needs us. I feel like we’re trifling with things we don’t really understand. Y’know, it’s like that karma thing Balak is always talking about.”

Darvin grimaced, not wanting to debate religion with the man in this particular place, “Well, maybe we’re insignificant compared to them. But we still have to look out for ourselves. And there are hungry men and boys who will need this food. Maybe that’s some good karma from all this?” Tam nodded, not totally satisfied but at least calmer. Darvin pressed, “So, you ready now? Evens or odds?”

“Odds.”

Darvin, for the third and last time, shook and threw the dice. The two men looked down: One die at 1. Other die at 1. Tam sighed heavy. Darvin’s sympathy welled up inside him, “You don’t have to. I’ve carried that piece of shit before, I can do it today.”

“No, no. I got it, boss. Trust me.” Tam motioned for Darvin to leave, which he did promptly. As he descended down to the floor, his mind turned back to home, Crosstree City. The city of men resided under the deck of the women’s hall and had stood there for years. The previous inhabitants of the hall were inattentive, and neglectful of their property. That was how a place the size of Crosstree City could form. But the two new women, evidently the new owners, were an unknown quantity. No known schedule, but we do know they clean more often. Bad news for me. The women were gone right now, out somewhere else after they had their evening meal, but Darvin nevertheless couldn’t wait to get away from the hall and under the deck, where it was safe, at least for the moment. His feet hit the floor, and he gave the rope three strong tugs to signal for Tam to start climbing down. He went to confer with the caravan master, a task he had been dreading the entire day. Darvin approached the short man at the center of a line of bugs used as pack carriers and gave a respectful bow, “Master Greeves. We’re bringing the line down and will be ready to move out soon.” His honorifics were given not out of genuine respect, but instead because the caravan leader was a megalomaniacal narcissist who insisted on being given the respect a noble male “deserves.”

Master Greeves responded dispassionately, “Not the best haul you’ve ever had. I may have to cut your team’s pay again if the market’s slow on our return.” Darvin resisted the urge to stab the arrogant bastard, and instead tried to argue his case, “Master, with all due respect, we cannot control what the women leave out. In fact, we got most everything from the top of the wall. Our speed and efficiency is top notch, master.” Darvin wasn’t lying, his crew were the best climbers anyone could ask for. The man just chuckled, “Top notch, maybe. Most expensive? Definitely.” As he spoke, Darvin heard a commotion behind him. Turning, he saw men all staring at the wall, and what they were looking at caused Darvin’s stomach to drop. Tam! He lost his balance! Tam was halfway down the wall, but the spikes he was using to climb were only loosely in the wall. One wrong movement and he falls. Unfortunately for Tam, the next move was a poor one. He leapt, trying to shove the spike in his left hand a little upward to get a leverage point, but the stick on his back swung out. The centrifugal force was too much, and Tam couldn’t get a hold on the wall. He fell, screaming as he did, and slammed right into the floor. The stick shattered, along with the pulley. Tam was buried under the debris, his body shredded and punctured with splinters.

Darvin couldn’t speak. His shock overtook him and he feel to his knees. Not him! Why him!? Tam was a true comrade of Darvin’s: loyal, smart, brave when he needed to be. To lose any man was hard, but this would hurt Darvin for years. For the Master’s part, he showed a rare look of sorrow, “Damn. That was expensive gear. Shame about your man, too.” The short man motioned to the other men, “Boys! Take the rope. Leave the rest. We’re moving out!” Tyr and Hyun came over, helping Darvin to his feet, as they began their march back to the door for the deck. Back home.

--- Some time later ---

The tiny male caravan approached the massive portal to the outside with trepidation. This corner of the women’s hall was always the most dangerous. Bugs frequently infiltrated here, and often became antagonized by the males’ presence. Worse, men lived here… dangerous men. Robbers, lunatics, even cannibals were rumored to reside in this section, hidden from the frequent steps of the women above. The guards of the caravan all drew their weapons, glancing around at their surroundings for the slightest movements –

WHACK. Darvin heard a cracking and whooshing of some object being thrown near him. He looked to his left to see the man next to him had a spear lodged in his chest. He gurgled up blood and fell forward, dead. “RAID! Defensive positions!” a guard cried out behind Darvin. Darvin was a climber, not a fighter, so he did the only sensible thing: run wildly in a random direction. His confidence was already shaken from the loss of Tam and now he could lose his life, too. Fuck this job. Fuck this job. Fuck this job. It was all Darvin could think as he spotted Tyr and Hyun running away from the main group, dodging a scrawny, deranged male holding a club. Darvin ran toward them as Tyr threw a rock in the man’s face, breaking his neck. “Wait for me!” Darvin shouted at the climbers. The men sighed a breath of relief as their leader approached, unharmed. Hyun spoke, “Boss, look. Caravan’s overrun. What do we do?” Darvin looked around at the carnage to see all the guards and caravanners being cut, dismembered, or bludgeoned to death. He even saw Master Greeves take a club straight to the crotch, followed by a male slitting his throat behind him. Serves you right, bastard. Darvin stopped himself from gloating, focusing on getting out alive. “The door to the outside is blocked. Let’s try that door,” he pointed to the brown panels to the right of the main door. He was pretty sure they didn’t lead anywhere, but at least the raiders weren’t there for now. Or maybe they live there. Or something worse does. Fuck it, risk that needs to be taken. Darvin didn’t wait for a response as he ran off in the direction of the door. Three male raiders gave chase, screaming incoherently. The climbers were faster and slid under the door. The men lay prone, waiting. The raiders for some reason stopped. Darvin could see their feet in place as they seemed to be conversing with one another. No, arguing. One of them is angry. The other two are scared. Suddenly, two pairs of feet turned and left, and the third followed suit after a slight delay. The climbers got up, content they were safe from the men, but all were suspicious of their unwillingness to pursue them behind the door. “Darvin, are we safe? Why’d they stop chasing us?” Tyr asked, his breath heavy. Darvin pondered, then suggested, “Probably because they’re scared of whatever lives in here. We should be careful. Anyone happen to take supplies when the chaos started?” The two men shook their heads. Darvin sighed, “Yeah, too much happened too quickly. Well, let’s look around. We’ll find a defensible spot, get supplies, camp out here for the night. Then back home. Sound good?” To both of the other men this did not sound good, but they had no other choice but to agree, so they pressed on into the darkness.

The land behind the door was alien to the three men. They were used to being in dark areas, as they all lived under a deck, but the darkness here was more oppressive. The only light was that which came under the door and a little through some slits running up the height of the megalith.

Hyun whistled, “Sheesh. Could ambush us anywhere in here.”

Darvin scanned the structures inside to look for good places to cower. Above them were what apparently were clothes, hung on big triangles from a pipe at the very top, miles above. Closer to the males were the caves and platforms women tended to wear on their feet.

Now Tyr spoke, “Footwear for the women. I’ve seen some rich men wear something similar. What do they call those… schuze? Something like that.”

Hyun chuckled, “Shoes. A lot of shoes. This many would cost one of us a year’s worth of wages.”

“I wouldn’t want any even if I could afford them. Need the callouses for climbin’”

“Yeah, well I don’t think women need to care about that. What’s big enough for them to climb, anyway?”

Darvin motioned for the men to be silent, then pointed at one of the pairs of footwear. He looked back at the men, and said, low, “Saw something over there. In the big blue shoe. Just inside one of the holes. Might be some loot in there.”

Tyr turned to one of the other pairs, closer to the three, “Well what about the black ones over here? I think I see a campsite!” Darvin looked to where he was referring and saw the remnants of a male campsite. He dropped his head in contemplation, “Okay. Daylight’s almost out. Let’s go up. See what’s there.”

The three men easily scaled the reasonably short platform and surveyed the abandoned campsite. A small fire pit, some broken tents, and a few bags of food were all that remained.

“Hmm, looks pretty fresh,” Hyun remarked, “you sure these campers won’t return?”

Darvin shook his head, “No, look. Blood over at the edge of the site. These men aren’t coming back.”

Tyr grimaced, “Okay, what if whoever killed them comes back for more?”

“We’ll take watch. There’s three tents. Fix up two and I’ll use the third to make a rope. We can scale off the shoe if we need to escape.”

The other two men accepted the plan, mostly out of exhaustion. They set to work, and as the daylight went out, they had a semi-functional camp established. The men took a meal, eating the leftover bits of food presumably scavenged by the previous inhabitants. As they ate, they tried to console each other, and process the day’s events.

“Tam was a good lad. Gonna miss that lunatic,” Tyr started with the memorializing. Hyun joined in, “Aye. He had that kind of spunk that comes with his age. Wasn’t a jaded asshole like any of us.”

Darvin wanted to commiserate, but his guilt began to overwhelm him, “I should have taken that pulley. It’s too heavy, too cumbersome. I should’ve just volunteered. Then he’d still be alive.” Darvin chomped hard on his ration, burning with anger at himself. Hyun tried to console his younger leader, “Darvin, you don’t know that. And he understood the risks. Climbers fall, that’s a fact of the job. He’s carried that blasted machine before, just this time it took him down.”

Tyr nodded, “Lad, this was your first death, right? At least, first man to die on your watch?”

Darvin nodded. Tyr clicked his tongue, “Yeah, that’s always hardest. This won’t make you feel better, but know that it does get easier. I couldn’t climb for weeks after my first, it was just too painful. Hyun’s right. We’re climbers. Sometimes we fall. You won’t accept this for a long time. That’s fine. Just remember the man.”

Tyr rarely talked for more than one sentence at a time, so Darvin was a bit taken aback. But the words did help him. “Alright then, let’s remember. Share a favorite memory of Tam. Hyun, you first?”

Hyun smiled, “Has to be the first job he and I went on. Climbing up the deck, to the very top. Kid had never climbed so high in his life. I went up to him just before to make sure he was ready, and he seemed terrified! Cried at me, told me he wanted to go home. I told him if he made it up, I’d get him a month’s supply of dried apple. So we climb, and it’s a hard one. Wind everywhere, flies all around us, I lost sight of the boy and just pressed on, trying my best to survive. I just barely make it to the top and what do I see? That little shit, with that sly grin of his! Told me he got there an hour ago! Kid was playing me the whole time!”

Tyr and Darvin laughed as Hyun drank from a water pouch left on the ground. Tyr put his food down and readied his story, “Do you lads remember that winter three years ago? One of the worst in living memory, famine, freezing, all that damn snow? Well, when Tam, Hyun, and I were on an extended outing past the Grey River, so many men had died from the cold that I got assigned by the caravan master to watch over some of the goods. The alcohol, specifically. You lads know me, I love some good wine, but duty is duty, and I watched over those barrels like a dragonfly. I’m on watch one night, when I hear an odd noise from one of the barrels. I head over, and see nothing. Then I hear another noise, to my left. I go over there, still nothing. I draw my club, and hear another noise, this time right behind me and I swing around and there’s Tam, holding a shiv. Now I think he’s gone mad and is gonna stab me, so I knock him on his ass. Then he squeals, shouting how I’m ruining his plans. I ask him, ‘what plans?’ then I noticed my feet were wet. There was wine leaking out half the barrels! The little man had poked holes in each to sample the wine inside, and was gonna steal the best tasting one as a ‘service fee’ for climbing!”

Darvin and Hyun fell over laughing, while Tyr looked in amusement, “It was not funny then. Nearly got skinned alive by the caravan master for that!”

Hyun sat back up, his laughing subsiding, “Alright, Darvin. What’s your story?”

Darvin went silent and lowered his head. After a moment, he began,

“We were climbing a tree. The big one in the women’s territory. Some scout had gone missing looking for sap deposits weeks prior and Tam and I were sent to find out what happened to him. The climb was awful. It rained halfway up, so we had to camp out in a little clearing overnight. It was there he told me about his childhood, all the horrible things he survived, and how his climbing abilities helped get him out of trouble. Told me how safe he felt when high above everyone, away from their bullshit and their pain and their misery. He started to cry. You knew him, he never cried. And when we got up in the morning, it was back to chipper, sarcastic Tam. Like nothing ever happened. But ever since then, he had a kind of look in his eyes whenever we talked. A look of understanding. I saw the vulnerable young boy he was trying to put to rest, and the strong, brave man he was creating in his place.”

The two men did not laugh, but instead lowered their heads in solemn remembrance. Hyun broke the silence, “Let’s drink. To Tam. To the best damn climber in the city!” He poured the water from the pouch into the cupped hands of Darvin and Tyr, then they all drank to Tam’s memory. As the water passed his lips, Darvin felt the exhaustion of the day claim him, and he quickly retired to the tent. Hyun followed suit, and Tyr ended up passing out by the campfire, as they finally rested.

The dreamless sleep Darvin was enjoying was interrupted by strong hands thrusting him up. “Wha—” SMACK. A slap across the face fully woke Darvin up, forcing him to realize he was no longer on the black shoe. Instead, he was near the blue shoe, tied up, surrounded by men. Fuck. Where’s Hyun and Tyr? Darvin looked around, but wished he hadn’t. His two comrades were there, also tied up, but they were stuck to the shoe itself, mouths gagged. The males surrounding them wore some kind of paint on their faces, covering their cheeks. Some men had little runes on their foreheads and chests, as well. There were around twenty, all armed. Darvin had no clue who these men were or why his friends were tied up there, but he did not intend to deduce that while tied up. He felt a little slack in the rope, and once the man standing watch over him got distracted, he would get out and run. Please, someone, make a scene. Luckily, Hyun seemed to meet Darvin’s request, as his gag fell out and he began shouting, “FUCKING FREAKS! Let us go!” The men moved over to Hyun to reapply the gag, giving Darvin the opportunity to pull on the slacked part of the rope. The knot holding his hands together came loose, and he slipped out. He sprinted as the male nearest him shouted. Darvin decided the best course of action was to do what he did best: climb. He scaled up the underside of the shoe and scrambled to the front. The men threw sticks and rocks at him, but he deftly dodged them as he continued his ascent. Soon, he was over on the top of the shoe and he ran into one of the holes, scaling back down along the inner walls. He stopped to catch his breath, and take in the surroundings, when suddenly he noticed there were more men in here! The men, garbed in white, all glared at him, and began to approach, when one male in the center of the shoe stood and shouted, “WAIT” The men stopped their charge, and the one who made them began to walk up to Darvin. He was old, with grey streaks in his hair and bushy beard. He had a large scar on his neck but wore none of the face paint the other males did. He got face to face with Darvin, and spoke, “Who are you, child? Why have you come all this way?”

Darvin didn’t want to respond, but knew he better cooperate or he was dead, “My friends and I were attacked outside. We’re just trying to get home. You people took us. Why are you keeping my friends?”

The old man just stared back, “But why did you go to the campsite? Was it yours?”

Darvin’s fear turned to anger, “No, but it seemed a safe place. Please, just untie them and let us leave.”

“So, you were… drawn to the campsite? You saw it and felt a pull there?”

Darvin was about ready to fight, “Please, old man. We just want to—”

“And then, when we found you and brought you to our temple, your first instinct is to climb inside? Not run away toward the light? Yes, She willed this.”

“W-what?”

“Child, you did precisely what She wanted. She wants you. That’s why you are here.”

The climber stammered in confusion, “W-who? A woman? What are you talking about?”

The old man smiled, “It’s alright. We rarely understand her presence at first. But you’ll learn. In time. Now your friends, they just followed you. They do not feel her presence. She doesn’t want them here. So they will go.”

“Wait. You’ll just allow them to leave?”

The white-cloaked man sighed, “Oh, child. What I mean is, they must go.”

Darvin swung at the old man. Despite his age, he gracefully dodged the strike and kicked back at Darvin, sweeping the ankle Darvin placed most of his weight on, knocking him to the ground. The man spoke again, “All men who are drawn here are blessed. But as men, they are sinners. We must cleanse ourselves of our sinfulness to be accepted here. Your companions will take your sin from you.” He smiled, as if he were a father consoling his sick son.

Darvin protested, “NO! They’re my friends! Please, don’t –”

THUD… THUD… THUD… THUD …

The old man looked at the others, silently commanding them. They all ran to the front of the shoe. He looked back at Darvin, “She approaches. No men are permitted to be in contact with her. Come with me. I will show you how close you may get.”

Darvin reluctantly got up and followed the old man to the front. There, he saw the others climbing up ropes to little structures attached to the holes on the top of the shoe. Observation platforms? Darvin would have been curious were his mind not occupied with saving his friends. But a woman being this close means he must hide. As the old man began a slow climb up the rope, Darvin went to another and scrambled up in mere seconds, his fury and fear combining to maximize his performance. The old man eventually got up onto the same platform, and grinned at Darvin, “She has given you a gift, stranger. Are you a professional climber?”

Darvin didn’t want to make small talk at a time like this, “Let my friends go. If she sees them, she’ll find all of us!”

The man responded with a strange cheeriness, “She won’t see them. She never saw any of the others. Do not despair, child. It is a great honor to be in their place.”

Darvin could not carry out his plan of throwing the man off the side of the platform because his fear overtook him as the door opened. The woman who opened it destroyed all confidence Darvin had left. He had seen women before, this woman in particular, but at this distance? This angle? She was so… much. The entire field of view out of the hole was filled by her, her strange purple and grey garb would have seemed comedic were it not also terrifying. Darvin’s fear increased as the brown-haired woman bent down and plucked up the shoes they were in. “Hold the rail, climber” Darvin did as the man instructed and was glad he did so as they all were swung mercilessly to the floor by her. Her massive feet gingerly slithered into the shoe, the toes wiggling in place made a searing noise as they scraped against the spongy floor. The atrocious smell hit Darvin’s nose hard. Sweat, humid and overwhelming. The others didn’t seem affected at all, some even seemed… pleased by its presence. Fucking weirdo creeps. Maniacs and perverts. Once she put on the other shoe, she began walking outdoors with the other woman. Darvin expected to be rocked back and forth but found that the platform seemed stationary. The man must have noticed his surprise, “The supports these platforms are on can compensate for her movements. It allows for better worship.”

Darvin let himself calm down, if only a little, “You tainted the water. That campsite was a trap. You lure people and get them crushed by this woman. Why? Why are you so cruel?”

The man looked hurt by the words, “Would you rather they have been chopped to bits by a crazed raider? Child, I am not cruel. She is not cruel, either. Those men, and the men before them, aren’t sacrificed for no reason. Men must absolve. That is our purpose. To be killed by her, that is a wonderous thing. At least here, their deaths have meaning.”

Darvin’s retort was prevented by a sound. Screaming. Pain. They’re being crushed. He looked panicked, “Will it be slow? Please, tell me,” his sanity was melting at the prospect of hearing his comrades suffer. The old man’s eyes dropped, “Sin is ever-present in our lives. The absolution must be slow. But their pain will turn to joy soon enough.”

Darvin stayed at the man’s side, the screaming of Tyr and Hyun breaking him down bit by bit. After nearly ten minutes, the screams intensified with a sickening crunch. The old man nodded, “It is nearly done. They will have died, in fresh air, next to a divine being, knowing they were the bargain for your salvation. It will be a good death. You’ll understand, in time.”

Darvin just hugged the rail. He couldn’t stand what was happening, he closed his eyes, praying he was dreaming, praying to anyone or anything to help his friends. Please, someone. Is there a god, or a spirit, that can take them away, end their suffering? Please! Suddenly, the shoe lifted in a different direction and the woman scraped the sole on the edge of the stone platform she and the other woman were walking on. The screams stopped with a slimy cracking sound. Tyr and Hyun were dead. W-what? Did she… hear? Did she hear my prayer?? His heart, so burdened with sorrow, clouded his judgment. He was so angry with her for having killed them, but a part of him wondered if she really could listen, and that part started to grow within. Darvin looked up at the man, “I-I… they’re dead.”

“Yes. But now you can live as you were meant to. As a servant of your protector. Your Goddess. I will show you. You may call me Azrael.”

Moments ago, the climber would have leapt from the platform to the toes of the woman to die quick and painless, but now he found himself stuck in place, the strange charm of the man taking hold of his emotions. “My name is Darvin.”