Roots Of Ruin (Monster Hunter Fanfiction)

Mara stumbled into camp just before dawn.

Her steps were uneven, her breaths shallow and ragged. Mud clung to her armor, streaked with patches of dried blood—some of it hers, some of it not. Her bow was gone. Her quiver held only a single broken arrow. Every movement sent pain lancing through her muscles, but she forced herself forward, past the gates, past the startled guards, until her legs finally gave out.

She collapsed to her knees.

"Mara?"

The voice barely registered before hands were on her shoulders, steadying her. She flinched violently, her body jerking away from the touch before she recognized the face. Captain Roake knelt before her, his sharp eyes scanning her injuries, his grip firm but not forceful.

"Mara, look at me."

Her gaze flickered to his. She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. The jungle was still ringing in her ears—the wet, gurgling sounds, the crunch of bone, the awful mimicry of Jorren's voice.

"We need medics here! Now!" Roake barked over his shoulder.

Someone pressed a waterskin into her hand. She tried to drink but ended up choking instead. It tasted wrong. Everything tasted wrong.

"They're dead," she rasped finally, her voice hoarse. "Jorren, Alden… they're all gone."

A murmur spread through the gathered hunters. Some exchanged wary glances, while others looked toward Roake, waiting for his command.

The captain's expression didn't change. "Tell me what happened."

Mara's hands clenched around the waterskin, knuckles white. "It wasn't just a sick monster," she said, her voice trembling. "It was… wrong. It changed. It wasn't hunting us—it was toying with us. Learning." She swallowed hard. "Jorren was—he—"

She faltered. Images flashed behind her eyes—his body, broken and twisted, his mouth forming words that didn't belong to him.

"They took him," she whispered.

"Took?" Roake's eyes narrowed.

"He wasn't just killed. He turned—his body, his voice. He spoke, Roake." Her voice cracked. "He said things only we would know. Like it was still him, but—" She shook her head violently. "No. It wasn't him. It used him."

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Roake stood, his face unreadable. He turned to the gathered hunters. "Get her to the medics. I want patrols doubled—now."

Two hunters moved to lift Mara, but she grabbed Roake's wrist in a vice grip.

"It knows us," she breathed. "It remembers us, there's something wrong with the forest."

Roake met her gaze, his jaw tightening.

Then he nodded.

"I know."