Sephtis

This was just supposed to be a simple job. It involved traveling through the jungle to reach a nearby village so your mercantile party could sell off your wares. Besides, the new fourth member of your party—God, you wish you'd taken the time to remember his name now—said he knew a shortcut. Lucky, you thought. Said shortcut turned out to be a disused trail through a much deeper, darker part of the jungle than the main road cuts through. You felt bad for the poor donkey as it fought to haul the wagon with all your wares through the thick foliage that had reclaimed the path. The donkey disappeared the first night. You assumed it escaped somehow, its absence forcing your party to pull the wagon by manpower. Then the new guy disappeared the second night. Traces left behind painted a grim image: drag marks in the mud, broken foliage, and a single shoe spatted with crimson. Perhaps you should have heeded that this was manticore country. The people of the village you took off from had warned you of manticore sightings in the deeper parts of the jungle, that people who'd ventured too far in had disappeared, but you and your party brushed off any concerns. Such things only happened to other people. They wouldn't happen to you. How silly you feel now. The monster stalking you—hunting you—picked your group off one by one, night by night. Last night, it was just you and your long-time business partner Daniyal left. You woke up to the sound of his screams just before they were cut short. With no way to move the wagon yourself and no way to get to safety, you've resigned yourself to your fate. Sitting against the wagon, you await the moment the beast will grow hungry again. Hours tick by, the jungle growing darker as dusk falls. You almost think the creature might not come—that you might have been too quick to assume your demise. Dread smothers that frail hope as two bright blue eyes peer out at you from the thicket. It's back. For you.