Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Chase and Unexpected Help
Katelynn POV
My legs burned as we tore through the forest, I could feel the branches snag onto my clothes. My arms was becoming numb from carrying the twins, but I didn't slow down.
Behind me, I could hear Greg and Nora’s heavy breaths, their footsteps were growing tired and heavier with every step.
Drew and Dakota let out a whimper as they clung to me tighter, their little faces buried in my neck. We were running on fumes—and Nora, pregnant and pale, wouldn’t last much longer. And the Bulkent was gaining.
Then—just ahead—I heard a voice.
A survivor?
Shit.
This could be good or it could be bad. We didn’t have time to change course. I just prayed whoever it was didn’t shoot first.
We burst through the treeline into a clearing. There was a girl standing alone with her back to us, hands planted on her hips. She seemed to be… arguing with a tree?
Oh no.
Please don’t let this be one of them.
There were rumors—people gone feral in the woods, talking to shadows and attacking strangers.
Just our luck.
“How many times are you going to do this?” she snapped at the tree. “It’s not even my fault this time. Don’t be so petty.”
She paused, as if listening. Then barked, “Oh, don’t give me that. I told you—”
A twig cracked behind me—Nora. She looked like she might vomit or collapse. Maybe both.
When I turned back, the girl had spun around to face us, scowling. “What do you guys want?”
I barely opened my mouth before she steamrolled right over me.
“You know what? No, I don’t care. I’m not in a good mood right now. I’m already dealing with something, and I really don’t need more—” She stopped to glare up at the tree again. “Are you that pissed at me you weren’t even going to mention we had company? Oh, really? ”
Okay, enough.
“Uh—listen,” I said, stepping forward. “We don’t want trouble. We got turned around in the forest, we’re running from a Bulkent, and it’s almost here, so—”
She glanced back at the tree, then at us, and let out a sigh. “Ugh, Fine. Come here. I’ll handle it, I guess.”
We all just stared, breathing heavily.
Greg was the first to find his voice. “Little girl, there’s no way you can take on a Bulkent by yourself. Do you even know why they call it that? It’s like a zombie on steroids!”
She huffed. “Firstly, don’t call me a little girl. Secondly, I said I’ve got it. Trust me. Or don’t—doesn’t matter. But if you’d rather fight it yourselves, be my guest. You’ve got a pregnant woman and two kids. You really want to gamble right now?”
We didn’t.
We really didn’t.
I hurried over to her, then Nora, and—after a long pause—Greg followed, still glaring. The girl looked satisfied, then looked up at the tree.
“I’m guessing you are not going to help…”
Silence.
She sighed. “Fine, I guess it was me that said would help them."
Pause.
"Are you sure? Don't whine to me afterwards that I had all the fun. I did offer.” No answer. “Okay, cool. Can I at least have my axe back?”
To our shock, something dropped from the tree—and landed neatly in her waiting hand. A gleaming axe.
She grinned, wide and wild, almost feral, then turned to face the direction we’d come from.
Moments later, the Bulkent burst through the trees, roaring like a freight train, pounding its chest.
Drew and Dakota whimpered and clutched tighter in fear.
To be honest, I would’ve done the same.
This one wasn’t just huge—it was massive. At least three times the size of the others I’d seen. Its skin was mottled and cracked and its eyes faintly growed red.
The girl didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even blink.
Instead, she smiled.
“Wow,” she breathed, eyes practicality shining as she stepped toward it. “You’re a big one.”
The Bulkent let out another roar—wet and raw, like something dying and furious all at once. The earth shook.
I heard Greg mutter, “We’re so screwed.”
The girl stepped closer.
No fear. No hesitation. Just that crooked grin stretching wider as the monster started running towards us.
She twirled the axe in her hand and muttered, almost cheerfully, “Alright, big guy. Let’s have some fun.”
The Bulkent lunged.
She moved ducking low beneath its arm, darting past its legs, and slammed the back of the axe into the back of its knee with a crack that made my stomach turn. It bellowed in pain and staggered.
She was behind it in a blink, swinging the axe upward with both hands. The blade sank into its spine with a wet crunch.
“Holy shit,” Greg whispered.
“I think she just made it mad,” I said.
The Bulkent shrieked, whirling on her, but she already put distance between herself and it. She jumped and slammed her axe into the creature’s shoulder. It’s blood which was dark and tar-thick—splattered across the clearing. The Bulkent howled, stumbling again, movements slowing.
She landed lightly, breathing hard but still smiling. “You’re tough,” she muttered. “Stupid, but tough.”
She flicked blood off the axe with a sharp swing, splattering the grass.
“Let’s finish this.”
The Bulkent staggered forward, clutching its head, dazed from the pain. That was her chance—and she took it.
With a yell that was half fury, half laughter, she surged forward and brought the axe down on its skull.
Everything froze.
Then the Bulkent crumpled.
Dead.
Silence.
Oh my god. She actually did it.
By herself.
The girl stood over it, panting, chest heaving. Her axe dripped dark, thick gore. She didn’t look at us right away—just back up at the tree.
“There. Happy now?”
No answer. Obviously.
But a single leaf fluttered down from above and landed gently in her hair.
She snorted. “That better be your version of accepting my apology or apologizing yourself.”
Then she finally turned to us, blood on her cheek, smiling like she hadn’t just killed a monster all by herself.
“So,” she said. “Still think I can’t handle it?”