Vyrva, Guado, Sibell, Brugge…

She didn’t even hear a rustle, but caught sight of a movement out of the corner of her eye. A grey, many-limbed and incredibly fast shape shot out of the thicket of ferns. Nimue screamed, seeing the snapping pincers as large as scythes. Legs covered in spines and bristles. Many eyes, surrounding the head like a crown.

She felt a sharp tug, which picked her up and threw her aside. She tumbled down on her back onto the springy branches of a filbert shrub, caught hold of them, ready to leap up and flee. She froze, looking at the wild dance taking place on the track.

The many-legged creature was hopping and whirling around incredibly quickly, brandishing its limbs and clanking its dreadful mandibles. And around it, even quicker, so quick that he was blurred, danced a man. Armed with two swords.

First one, then a second and finally a third limb was hacked off and flew into the air in front of Nimue, who was watching petrified with fear. The blows of the swords fell on the flat body, from which a green sticky substance was squirting. The monster struggled and flailed around, finally making a desperate leap and fleeing into the forest, bolting. It didn’t get far. The man with the swords caught up with it, stepped on it and pinned it to the ground with simultaneous, powerful thrusts of both blades. The creature threshed the ground with its limbs, then finally lay still.

Nimue pressed her hands to her chest, trying hard to calm her pounding heart. She saw her rescuer kneel over the dead monster and use a knife to lever something from its carapace. Saw him wipe the two blades and sheath the swords into the scabbards on his back.

“Everything in order?”

Some time passed before Nimue realised he was talking to her. But in any case, she couldn’t utter a word or get up from the hazel thicket. Her rescuer was in no hurry to pull her out of the bush, so she finally had to get out herself. Her legs were trembling so much she had difficulty standing. The dryness in her mouth persisted stubbornly.

“It was a rotten idea, trekking alone through the forest,” said her rescuer, coming over.

He pulled back his hood and his snow-white hair positively shone in the sylvan twilight. Nimue almost cried out, bringing her fists to her mouth in an involuntary movement. It’s impossible, she thought, it’s absolutely impossible. I must be dreaming.