25 – Entangled foe

  Branches bowed and parted as something big forced its way through the trees. It rose above the undergrowth like a moving hill, rivaling an elephant in size. Brown yarn formed the main body, thickly looped and knotted, yet long streaks of dark green clung to it in uneven patches, as though moss had rooted directly into the stitches. Clumps of actual leaves and forest debris were tangled in its flanks.

  “What the hell is this?” Nura whispered, her eyes wide-open.

  “Isn’t it obvious? This is Rosie, the knitted bear Emily asked us to find,” Gaspard said.

  “Why do humans make such big toys?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Nura!” Gaspard grumbled. “It’s not its original size, there’s clearly damn dark magic going on here. Very dark and very damned.”

  They looked at the bear as it approached. Its oversized muzzle could even be called adorable: disgustingly cute round ears, black button eyes. Only, those two buttons exuded the darkness of an abyss, and its enormous mouth bared rows of knitted fangs.

  “Maybe it’s not that bad, and its fangs and claws are fluffy like the whole body?” Elanil suggested, barely believing her guess herself.

  It lowered one forepaw onto a fallen log. The impact split the bark. The curved claws dragged through the wood as it flexed. The grooves opened several inches deep, splinters scattering across the clearing floor.

  “Well, I guess it answers your question,” Gaspard chuckled.

  The paw lifted. Fibers stretched along its wrist like exposed tendons. The creature inhaled without lungs, its chest expanding as threads tightened across its torso. Then the knitted bear closed the distance with surprising acceleration, its stitched limbs pounding the clearing. Gaspard slipped left. The paw smashed into earth where he had stood, gouging a trench. The daggers flashed in a tight cross, carving through layered yarn. The disturbed seams came together again, as if the bear had hastily stitched up the wound.

  “How can such a bulky body have so much agility?” Gaspard exhaled, surprised.

  A thin and fast thread snapped toward him. The bard dodged as it hissed over his shoulder and wrapped a sapling instead. Gaspard prepared for the next assault. He cut at the foreleg joint, severing several cords. The bear twisted with abrupt agility, backhanding him. He dove below the trajectory of the slam, almost feeling the knitted paw brush against his back.

  The next thread rushed on him but jerked sideways mid-flight. An arrow had punched through the bear’s stitched eye, burying deep into the stuffed head. The impact did not blind it, but the sudden strike twisted its aim; the thread wrapped another sapling instead of Gaspard’s throat.

  “Same tactics as with the Digger: let’s first see what it can do!” Elanil commanded, as she was already shifting along the clearing’s edge, preparing another arrow.

  Two more threads shot out, crossing midair. A second arrow struck the snout seam. The bear’s head snapped aside on impact. Gaspard leapt through the narrowing gap, his blades rotating in mirrored arcs. Steel sliced wool; the threads parted inches from his wrists. The bear reared and roared. Emanating from its claws, the threads shot, spreading like a net. Gaspard spun forward, carving a corridor through the webbing, and aiming with a dagger into the belly seam.

  The bear noticed this maneuver and lowered its head. Its jaws were almost upon Gaspard, who would not have had time to dodge the sharp, knitted fangs. But the next moment the bear took an axe to the ear. It shook its muzzle and bared its teeth at Nura. Gaspard didn’t waste a moment, sliding under the bear’s belly and ripping it open. Before the seam was pulled back together, some stuffing managed to spill out.

  If the bear had been a living thing, the battle would have been over right then. But the deep wound only enraged the knitted bear even more. It darted down after Gaspard, but he was already behind it, out of the deadly claws’ reach.

  “It’s regenerating! What are we going to do with it?” Nura asked.

  The bear immediately noticed her and barreled toward her, flattening brush underfoot. Nura met it with a frontal attack, accelerating with both axes low. At the last instant, she slid right. The paw hammered down; her left axe snapped upward into the wrist seam. The yarn split. She pivoted and drove the second axe into its flank, ripping a diagonal tear before springing clear of the counter-swipe.

  “Find its weak spots,” Elanil responded, dodging the beast’s attack and preparing a new arrow to shoot.

  While the bear was busy with her, Gaspard took in the rear. He slashed at the hamstring stitching, forcing the monster to turn unevenly. The backhand came fast for something so large. Nura ducked and answered with a tight upward hook into the armpit seam. She wrenched free as the other paw crashed down. Threads lashed toward her torso.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  An arrow thudded into the bear’s raised forearm. The limb jerked. The threads veered and snapped across the ground instead of Nura’s wrist. She wasted no time and stepped inside the reach and chopped twice at the inner elbow. The limb sagged, stitches hanging loose for some time before re-knitting together. The bear lunged again, jaws snapping at her head. Elanil’s next arrow struck deep into the open mouth, between the rows of fangs. The head recoiled. The bite closed on empty air.

  Nura planted a boot on the knee seam and vaulted up its bulk. As it twisted toward the archer, she raked both axes across its back in a crossing slash. The tear widened. Gaspard surged in from the front, driving one dagger into the weakened belly seam and sawing sideways to keep it from drawing shut. More stuffing fell out.

  Another arrow pierced the remaining eye seam. The bear’s head snapped toward the archer, its attention dragged away from the two fighters at its core. Nura dropped off its back as it spun toward Elanil. Gaspard rolled under a sweeping paw, carving across the wrist again. The damaged limb faltered.

  Elanil retreated three measured steps, loosed once more into the shoulder joint as the bear advanced on her. That was the opening. Nura attacked from behind, burying both axes into the widened back seam, while Gaspard’s second dagger punched through the front. Steel met through the layers of yarn. The bear staggered between them, forced to divide its strength—never allowed to fix on the archer or her melee colleagues long enough to crush either.

  The bear swayed between them, its seams hanging loose, its stuffing scattered across the clearing. Its movements had grown uneven, one foreleg dragging threads behind it. Still, it lunged.

  Through the gap between Nura and Gaspard, Elanil saw the torn belly seam flex as the bear twisted. The arrow drove into the opening and vanished up to the fletching. The bear jerked and swung toward her, its paws tearing grooves through earth and fallen stuffing. She did not run blindly. Three controlled steps back. Another arrow. Aim. Release.

  The bear’s damaged foreleg lifted for a downward strike. The yarn stretched across the shoulder joint. Elanil aimed at that strain point and let go. The arrow struck the joint. The lifted limb faltered mid-swing. Threads burst on all sides in a loose spray instead of snapping straight.

  “Left!” Nura yelled.

  Elanil shifted left at once. A thread whipped through the space she had occupied. It tangled in the bushes and pulled taut.

  Nura hacked into the exposed back seam again. Both axes rose and fell in tight, efficient arcs. Gaspard stayed close to the belly, daggers sawing sideways to keep the gap from closing. Each time the stitches tried to crawl back together, his steel cut them apart. More stuffing spilled out and clung to Gaspard’s boots.

  Elanil reached for another arrow. The quiver had grown lighter. She drew, nocked, and lifted the bow while circling to keep a distance. The bear reared, jaws opening over Gaspard. She centered the shot on the mouth. The string pressed into her glove. She held for half a heartbeat until Gaspard dropped low. The arrow punched straight into the bear’s jaws and drove deep. Its head snapped back.

  The throat seam stretched as the bear tried to lift its head again. Elanil shot into that seam. The impact forced the head sideways. Nura used the opening at once and tore both axes down its spine seam in a long pull. The yarn split from its shoulder to lower back. Gaspard surged in from the front and forced his daggers into the widened tear, prying it open before the stitches could gather.

  The bear staggered. One hind leg buckled. The stuffing poured freely. It seemed like the entire clearing was covered in fluff, as if in snow. Elanil steadied her breathing. She drew one more arrow, and tracked the bear’s center as it turned toward her again.

  Nura slammed an axe into the weakened foreleg. Gaspard carved across the wrist seam. The limb sagged. That was the opening. Elanil released the arrow into the torn torso where layers had been peeled back by steel. The arrow buried deep among loose yarn and cloth. The bear reeled, nearly folding in on itself as more stuffing spilled onto the trampled clearing.

  Suddenly, the knitted animal stood upright on its hind legs, its muzzle pointed upward, and froze, almost touching the tall treetops. The next moment, this giant fell to the ground with an incredible crash, as if it were truly heavy, like a mammoth, and not a knitted stuffed toy. Nura and Gaspard barely managed to jump out of its way.

  When the dust from the colossus’ fall cleared, they approached the knitted hills of its paws. Gaspard and Nura cautiously poked them with their outstretched weapons. The beast remained motionless.

  “Hmm, that’s all?” Nura breathed a sigh of relief, but a hint of disappointment lingered in her voice. “We thought it as a reconnaissance in force, but actually finished it off.”

  “Are you upset?” Gaspard snorted. “Cause I’m not. I mean, two damn battles in a day are enough for me.”

  “I’m not upset. It’s just all a bit weird. The quest card said it should’ve been of a difficult level. But it ended up being not half as dangerous as the Digger was.”

  “You said it yourself, maybe it’s some kind of problem with the difficulty identification in the quests themselves,” Elanil shrugged, descending from the rock she’d jumped onto to make it easier to deliver the finishing blow.

  “You’re probably right.” Nura turned to her, smiling. “It’s all my habit of expecting a catch—”

  She and Gaspard suddenly flew upside down into the air, woolen threads tightly wrapped around their legs. Before Elanil could process anything, her companions disappeared into the crowns’ foliage.

  “Nura! Gaspard!” Elanil called to them with growing alarm.

  But instead of an answer from above, something followed that made her shudder and raise her bow ready to shoot. The bear raised its head. This time, its eyes glowed a swampy green like two lanterns. The stuffing scattered across the clearing was being sucked into its ripped belly. The stitches were also healing. The bear’s muzzle bared its teeth in a maddened grin and giggled in a mischievous childish voice.

  [Party Update: two strongest members are temporarily removed from the party; Elanil to fight the rest of the battle alone]

  “Oh crap…” Elanil sighed, preparing for the worst.