The stench of death wafted in the air of the Elephant Graveyard, an odor of both fresh and aging corpses mingling into a putrid potpourri for any who dared wander its forsaken territory. Many who tried to cut a path through the ivory-strewn wasteland did so out of necessity, for even the most faithless of bandits knew that events beyond mortal understanding could happen there. For those who believed in the otherworldly, these inexplicable events weren’t a possibility, but likely happened on a regular basis. Some tried to explain away the disappearances of the boneyard’s travelers on monster attacks alone, but the superstitious of the badlands could rattle off hushed rumors of fearful happenings regarding that haunted locale like the back of their hand.

	For better or worse, Asha and her squad-mates’ beliefs ran the gambit between atheistic and god-fearing. All four of the young warriors, however, knew to keep their heads down, eyes peeled and words hushed as they traversed the dread landscape. Surely somewhere in the Elephant Graveyard was a sample of the potion reagents their base of operations needed. An outbreak of the Blight had been reported by contacts in settlements elsewhere on the mainland; the Proving Grounds would surely wrought the paranormal pestilence before long, and the town of Veil Grove would need to be prepared.

	The human member of the four-person team scoffed quietly, crossing his arms on his march. “This is hopeless”, Nathan groaned. “We’ve been here nearly an hour I’d wager, and what little greenery we’ve seen won’t cut it. Nothing but dried grass and weeds, not counting the mold on that wild dog’s carcass a few paces back. We’re screwed if we think we’ll find enough to make so much as one damned dose of--”

	A feminine voice left the lips of the vulpine woman leading the youthful pack. “I’ve heard enough”, Flora sternly barked. “One more word, Nathan, and by Vera--”

	“Flora”, Asha the lioness spoke in a diffusing tone, “Calm down. And you too, Nathan. Even if we don’t find what we’re looking for here, I know we can find Fiends’ Primrose on the other side of the Graveyard. Worst case scenario, we’ll have to scrape together what we’ve got and shell out for it. But that intel on the flowers being here is reliable, mark my words”.

	Nathan scowled. “Horse shit. You’d believe anything your boyfriend tells you, Asha”.

	The boyfriend in question, a leonine lad named Faraji, grunted as he shifted the long haft of his battleaxe across his shoulder. “And I’m wrong? I don’t know why we brought you along, hairless ape. All you do is bitch and moan when we’re not spelunking through the Hollow”.

	“Because I can’t stand a wild goose chase”, scoffed Nathan. “Most missions down below are straight-forward. But out here, we’re baking in the heat of the dry season, on the vague notion that we’ll find enough freakin’ flowers to keep the Blight out of Veil Grove. What a crock”.

	Flora’s footfalls ceased. Turning on her heel, the vixen pointed a dark-furred finger toward the bronze-skinned human. “I’d rather chance it than let my people die by the Blight, you fool! Last I recall, I was the one in charge. If you’re so quick to question my orders, you can pack your ill-gotten tools and shove off from Veil Grove, starting with marching your sorry ass back to town alone. Savvy?”

	Nathan grunted back, unfazed by his leader’s flash of aggression. “Whatever. But if we end up getting devoured by ghouls for nothing, don’t say I didn’t tell you so”.

	Flora scoffed. “Considering you’re the godless sort, I don’t think we’d have the chance in you eyes”. Turning back around, the vixen’s boots carried her forward once more.

	“And I’ve told you a thousand fucking times”, Nathan shrugged back, “Ain’t nothing wrong with a little skepticism in this day and age”.

	As this was unfolding, Asha and Faraji continued to advance in the back line of the small sortie, naked and shod feet respectively making tracks in the dust behind them. Her maroon eyes glancing around her spear to Faraji’s dark-furred countenance, Asha mumbled toward the taller lion-folk, “I don’t doubt what your contacts told you, Faraji. It’s just something Nathan wouldn’t understand”.

	Stoic as ever, the leonine warrior replied back to his mate as the two felines advanced, saving his gaze for his surroundings and any signs of danger. “No need to tell me that”, he spoke softly, “The lad’s still convinced I do too much of the spice when speaking with the spirits. But there comes a time when you can’t blame all my visions on my vices alone”.

	“Right”, Asha sighed. “Thing is, I don’t think Nathan’ll ever come around, even if a devil dragged his sorry ass to Gehenna’s depths before our very eyes”.

	“Well, he doesn’t have to”, Faraji responded. “He just has to do his job and work on keeping his lips shut. He’s by far the mouthiest scoundrel I’ve ever heard, and I’ve known quite a few from my upbringing”.

	With a grimace, Asha glanced ahead like her lover. She knew he had a point, but the devout lioness knew that the squad’s sapper had upset her with his views on more than one occasion… and sometimes unintentionally. As her tail hung low, ears folded to the sides of her short, dirty-blonde mane, she stopped in her stride.

	Something was amiss. She could tell, although she had trouble conveying it to the others sometimes. A sixth sense bestowed by her divine patron; a sense to tell when the otherworldly was an immediate threat.

	It was one of those times.

	Stepping abruptly forth and softly clapping her hand to Faraji’s shoulder, she whistled like a songbird to the human and vixen a pace or so ahead of them. It was the team’s code, suggested by Flora long ago to warn of danger when out in the wilderness. In swift motion, the others readied their weaponry; Faraji his axe, Asha her spear, Nathan his darts and Flora her hunting sword. With their main armaments at the ready, all four reconvened around each other, backs toward the others’ backs and scanning the scene for trouble.

	Thus the throaty cackling began, coming from a natural ledge above the young warriors. Spilling out from behind an elephant’s sun-baked carcass, the hideous hominids slid down the sandy slope not far from the short cliff and barreled toward them! Emaciated and pale of skin and hair alike, the fiends’ sexless forms moved with ravenous haste, stumbling and snarling in hunger for their next meal, senseless of the killing tools clenched in the hands of their victims.

	The four broke their back-to-back cluster in a moment’s glance, their movements seemingly rehearsed from untold hours of training to work as one under duress of violent death. Shoulder to shoulder they stood their ground, preparing as the first of the ghouls came close enough to strike. 

	Mere seconds later, the first of the devils leaped into the air; Asha was the first to act, stomping forth as she snarled and swept her body into a forceful spear thrust. The ghoul’s cackling ended in an abrupt shriek as Asha’s blade plunged into its ribs and burst from its scrawny back. Its foul-smelling lifeblood dribbled away from its innards once it hit the dirt, the lioness wrenching her spearhead from the ghoul’s dying body.

	Undeterred by the loss of its fellows, the next two ghouls scampered forth, only to meet their own violent demise. A brutal vertical chop from Faraji’s arms was matched by the precise aim of Nathan’s wrist, and the paired ghouls stopped in their tracks and howled in agony. Faraji’s victimized monster fell in a heap, arm and shoulder cleaved from it as the remaining hand grasped at the stump. Nathan’s opposition instead clutched its right eye, the shaft of a long, lead-tipped dart poking out from its socket. 

	The two lads followed up on finishing off their quarries as the remaining two ghouls made their way to attack the team. Peering from around the side of the formation, Flora murmured with clipped words in a strange tongue, staring daggers into the remaining ghouls. Taking a couple steps through the dust, Flora advanced while Nathan’s sidearm dagger was plunged into his victim’s throat, Faraji’s ghoul  being put out of its misery with a beheading sweep.

	Turning her body to the right and raising three fingers on her left hand, Flora fearlessly stared down the ghouls now heading her way. A feeling of air leaving her lungs, a tingling surge down her left arm, an uncanny warmth in the tips of those extended digits: Flora was ready for them as her hushed chanting ended in a sharp cry. Sweeping her arm forth to point at the ghouls, the strange heat shot up the digging claws of her fingertips and burst forth in a hail of bluish sparks. 

	Blazing into existence and howling like fireworks in their flight, one mote of smokeless blue fire per finger whizzed forth erratically at the monsters, erupting into streaking marine fireballs the size of shooter marbles during their flight! One fireball per ghoul collided with the devils’ chests each, but the orb from Flora’s middle finger instead sailed past between the beings’ heads before whirling backward, keeping its velocity as it smashed into the back of the ghoul to Flora’s right. It was over in mere moments, but the horrific damage of the spell was done; smoke billowed from gaping burned holes in the monsters’ chests, and the hapless ghoul to be struck by that third fiery bullet was now missing the crown of its head!

	The fifth ghoul fell to its knees, holding the horrible wound in its ribs with a shriveled hand. As Flora swept her right wrist to the side, she grit her fangs while winding up to end the fiend’s suffering. A sharp exhale hissed through her teeth as her short sword’s edge met meager resistance, her nose crinkling at the smell of the rotten blood gushing from the monster’s throat. The five ghouls were no more, Flora’s quarry falling face-first into the dust of the Elephant Graveyard with a severed jugular to match its sucking chest wound.

	Letting her hunting sword drop to the side of her victim, Flora’s palm met her forehead as the bone-handled weapon left her grasp. “Well”, she gasped, “That ended quick, but was unpleasant as always. Is everyone alright?”

	Slowly dragging a blood-spattered cloth across the blade of his dagger, Nathan glanced up toward Flora’s distressed gaze. “No need to be dramatic”, he shrugged. “They’re dead and we’re not. Not even a scratch on any of us”.

	Asha sighed softly, drawing her spearhead from the dirt she’d plunged it into. “Ought to be thankful I sensed them coming”, she quietly remarked, “Or one of us might’ve been the first Blight victim from Veil Grove this year”.

	Faraji sat cross-legged as he tended to cleaning his axe’s edge. “Grateful as always, love”, he replied, his voice eerily calm. “It’s a shame that ghoul blood stinks up a blood-rag so easily, though”.

	A concerned groan left Flora’s lips as she picked up her sword. “At least Asha isn’t as jaded as I to fighting”, she uttered. “One of you lads has ice in his blood, and the other is probably a sociopath by now. I have trouble discerning who’s got what condition sometimes”.

	Getting to his feet, Faraji indifferently shouldered his axe once more. “If it helps you decide”, his deep voice rumbled in a soothing voice, “I’ve seen worse things happen to a team of fighting men and women than having to bear the deaths of inhuman enemies”.