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strixcattus · 1 month

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Chapter III: Fight/Flight

Everything goes dark, and he dies.

History

It takes a few minutes of waiting to realize that no one is there.

He can’t blame himself for not making the connection, really. Sure, they could easily chat up a storm even when there’s only three of them, but he’s seen moments of silence before. Maybe the big guy was just taking a moment to assess the situation.

But he isn’t, and when Opportunist finally caves and tries to take a look around, his head turns at his own command.

The cabin is a… bit of a fixer-upper, to be sure. Its doorway is sagging into the ground, and the ceiling doesn’t seem to be the most stable, and the door itself is ragged at the edges and looks as though it might swing inward at any moment. It doesn’t even have a latch. That’s to say nothing of the lopsided, gaping windows that let in a breeze from outside, or the gaps between the logs making up its walls that he can tell are there even though he can’t see them all.

Still, it’s not a lost cause or anything. Log cabins are nice! They’re classic! And old homes are all the rage. With a bit of work to seal up the cracks and some glass in the windows and some insurance that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in and a new door and maybe replacing all the creaking floorboards that feel a moment away from snapping beneath his feet, this place could be a perfectly cozy woodland retreat!

He wonders what sort of Princess lives here. Maybe he should go down and talk to her about the real estate potential.

The blade is perched, as it occasionally is, on the edge of a table which wobbles as he lifts the blade from it. That’ll have to be looked at.

He keeps the blade hidden behind his back as he descends the clearly-aging staircase. If it comes to a fight, he’ll be glad to have it, but there’s no reason to put her off before they’ve even had a chance to speak.

The Princess’s voice, loud and low, reaches him before he can see the basement. “I can smell you,” she growls.

Well! She seems like she’s a very straightforward person. He’s sure they’ll be able to cooperate.

The basement itself is unusually dark, the only light coming from a grate in the ceiling. Even that root cavern, without a window at all, didn’t have shadows like these. Despite the darkness, thick plants press in from the sides of the room, providing a touch of life to the otherwise empty space.

Before his eyes can fully adjust to the lack of light, a shape rises in front of the far wall and disappears into the jungle. That must be the Princess!

“Hello,” he calls out before she can say anything. “Lovely place you’ve got down here!” She doesn’t answer, so he presses on. “The name’s—Broken. And you would be?”

She chuckles from somewhere he can’t see. “We have no need for names here, fledgeling. You’ll never survive if you keep stalling.” Her eyes appear between the leaves, glinting in what little light can reach them. The rest of her is still immersed in shadow.

“Oh, come on. I’m just trying to get things off to a friendly start here!” Opportunist squints, trying to pick out her silhouette. “I’m sure we can cooperate, yeah? You want out, right? I can get you out.”

“You’re right. You can.”

The Princess’s form vanishes, and Opportunist leans further into the darkness. His eyes should adjust soon enough, right? She’s clearly able to see just fine.

Then jaws appear, blotting out his vision, and everything goes dark.

…And he doesn’t die.

He wrenches one eye open to see stomach lining pressing in on all sides, every touch of it stinging his skin. How he’s getting enough light to tell this, he isn’t sure, and he’d rather not think about it too hard.

“I told you you wouldn’t survive if you stalled.” He can hear muffled footsteps through the walls of the Princess’s stomach. “You should have listened.”

He turns on instinct, arm rubbing against the wall of her stomach with a sting that can only mean it’s begun to eat through his sleeve. “Come on, now, I was just trying to start a rapport! I was perfectly happy to work with you. Actually, tell you what—you spit me out, and I still can.”

The Princess laughs, the sound echoing around him. “You are working with me. You’re going to let me out of here.”

“I can’t do that while I’m in your stomach, can I?” Maybe he can still talk his way out of this. Surely she has to listen to reason, right?

“No. But I can.” There’s a pause in the Princess’s movement, before it starts again with the sound of clanging metal. She must have broken the chain.

She does want to escape with him. By eating him.

Well. This may be a lost cause, but it always looks better if you go down fighting.

He digs into the inside of the Princess’s stomach with the blade, flesh parting easily even as his own screams in protest. The skin of his hands is raw and red by now, with most of the feathers on his arms absent. He tries not to look at them.

Gravity pulls him away from his work, and he struggles to regain his footing as all sensation from his legs is replaced by a monotone pain. She’s ascending the staircase.

Little by little, her stomach lining parts, and his hands grow weaker. He can almost see the motion of her heartbeat now. This is his chance to go out a hero.

And wake up in a new, weirder cabin, but that’s just another pro.

He almost swears this process feels familiar.

There’s a slam, jolting him as far as he can be jolted in such a confined space. No doubt the Princess is trying to break down the door. Why not just climb through the window? Surely it’s large enough.

Only seconds left, probably. He’ll have to make this count.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart as sensation cuts out.

He wakes up in a cabin. Time clearly hasn’t treated it as well as it deserves—the ceiling and floor are both sagging, and the door doesn’t look like it latches. The windows are completely devoid of glass, and the logs making up its walls—

This is the same cabin. What’s up with that?

Oh well. A second chance is a second chance, and he’s not about to argue against whatever forces decided he deserved one.

He scoops the blade from the table on his way down. After meeting that Princess, he definitely wants a backup plan if negotiations go sour a second time.

“Back for more?” the Princess taunts, already invisible in the jungle. Her voice sounds as though it’s coming from deep in the basement.

“Now, I want you to know I hold absolutely no grudges.” He holds up his empty hand. “I’m more than willing to work with you. You don’t have to worry about fighting me.”

The Princess’s eyes appear between the leaves. “Why would I need to work with you? I already know how to leave.”

This is going to take more than a little convincing. “Yes, but wouldn’t it be easier if we came to some sort of mutual understanding? I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you out of here.”

Her eyes flash. “Then hold still.”

No, he doesn’t think he will.

He dives out of the way as something immense hurtles past him, landing heavily behind him—or, behind most of him.

One of his legs crunches as some load-bearing part of the Princess comes down upon it, sending him to the floor. He doesn’t even get the chance to look up before he’s enveloped by her maw again.

“I can just dig my way out again, you know,” he calls to the Princess. “It’s not too late for us to reach a peaceful resolution!”

She chuckles. “It was always too late for that, fledgeling. If you want to dig your way out, then start digging.”

Hard to please, isn’t she? Ah well. He’ll just have to try again with whatever comes after this.

He doesn’t hesitate to dig with the blade, this time knowing exactly where to find the Princess’s heart. It’s exposed almost before sensation begins to drain from his hands.

“Just thought I’d let you know, this is your last chance!” he calls. The only response from the Princess is the jostle of her passing the threshold of the stairs.

Oh well. Third time’s the charm.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart, and everything goes dark.

He wakes up in a cabin. The roof and floor are constructed from aging wooden planks, and the walls are formed from logs, framing a set of empty windows and a door that hangs loosely on its hinges. The corners of the room have dirt building up in them.

It’s the same cabin. He’s getting a third chance? Someone up there must really like him.

The routine continues with him picking up the blade as he steps over the threshold. Can’t have her eating him without an escape route at hand, not that he intends to be eaten a third time.

She is waiting, of course, the outline of her head just visible over the top of a bush.

“If you eat me again, it’s only going to go the same way,” he says.

The Princess’s silhouette vanishes only to reappear a moment later in a slightly different patch of jungle. She’s nearing the stairs, no doubt trying to cut off his escape. “I can accept that. Can you?”

What? “I’d like to think I’m the sort of person who follows through on his promises. And this is a promise.”

“So you kill me. And we wake up again. And then I eat you again, and you kill me again. And we wake up again.” The Princess vanishes again. “How many times will it take for you to give up on the cycle?”

“I think—” Opportunist begins, but the sound of pounding feet cuts him off and he dives out of the way, just in time for the Princess to catch nothing more than his shoulder. A set of gashes cut through his sleeve, bleeding red. She has claws, and they’re long.

His sunglasses clatter to the floor.

He turns to see the Princess—or what little of her form he can make out in the gloom—looming over him, directly next to the staircase.

“I can last a while,” he says, tightening his grip on the blade. There’s not much sense in keeping it behind his back now that she clearly knows he has it. “I’m pretty patient.”

“Pretty patient?” The Princess rises, looming over him. “If you are pretty patient, I am very patient. Incredibly patient. More patient than you can comprehend. Swallowing you three times is nothing. Ten times will be nothing. When we are down here for the fiftieth time, will you still have the will to stand against me?”

Opportunist blinks. The Princess is gone by the time his eyes reopen.

Then her claws—and he can see them this time, and they are very impressive—bear down on him, rending his blade arm open, and her jaws unfold into a cavern that swallows him whole. Again.

He swims around in her stomach, trying to ignore how he can feel the precise edge of every wound she inflicted on him. Maybe the blade is still here. He still has one working arm. He can still fight back.

The Princess shifts, motion once again catching before the chain breaks. It must have been repaired every time things reset. That’s good to know. Maybe he can use it on the fourth go-around.

She begins her journey up the stairs. The blade is nowhere to be found.

Time to bluff. He’s great at bluffing. “Better spit me out if you don’t want a repeat of the first two times!” he sings. The Princess doesn’t even slow down.

“You cannot tell me what happens and expect me to believe you, fledgeling,” she says. “Prove it or be proven a liar.”

…Rude. But fine. He can at least try his best.

He digs into the stomach lining with his sizzling hand, trying not to pay attention to how it bites at his fingertips and catches under his claws with every scratch he inflicts. Without the blade, it’s much slower going, and he’s jolted away from his work by the Princess slamming herself against the door before he can even inflict a respectable wound.

“It still won’t open,” she growls. “Let me out, fledgeling.”

No way. Not on her terms. “Only if you give me a trade. Spit me out, and we’ll leave. Deal?” It’s getting harder and harder to tell if he’s breathing deeply enough.

The Princess pauses for a moment. Coiling to batter down the door? Or considering his bargain?

“No.”

Everything goes red, then it goes dark, and then he dies.

He wakes up in a cabin, greeted with the by-now familiar sight of wooden planks doing their level best to hold themselves together when time failed them. It is chilly in here.

The Princess isn’t interested in negotiating while he’s in her stomach. Which means the only way to negotiate is to remain outside her stomach for long enough to do so.

He needs to channel that one flighty voice. Until he finds a way to win over the Princess, his motto is now WWHD: What Would Hunted Do?

He can almost hear his voice… just needs to get into the proper mindset and manifest him…

“Dodge her.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Great advice, imaginary Hunted.

The Princess is waiting in the gloom when he arrives at the basement, her shape still just as hard to make out as it was the first time. “Are you ready to give up?” she asks.

“You know, I was really hoping you’d think more highly of me than that,” Opportunist says, straining to pick out any motion. If he can tell when she’s about to strike, then he can keep dodging, and talking, and eventually he’ll have to wear her down.

There. She’s disappeared from sight. That means she’s about to—

He leaps out of the way and rolls across the dirt floor as the Princess hurtles past him, bracing for the sting of her claws catching his arm or the snap of her weight hitting his leg. It… doesn’t come. The only pain is a slight scrape in his knee from where he landed.

He’s getting better at this!

The Princess coils by the staircase, cutting off his exit. That’s all right. He doesn’t need a way out when he can talk. “I know you think you can wait, but do you really want to?” he asks. “We could leave right now if we could just come to a mutually-agreeable conclusion.”

“I’ve waited for longer than you can imagine, fledgeling.” Her teeth glint in the darkness, the only features visible besides her eyes. “You cannot threaten me with time in a way that matters.”

He watches her. She does not move. “I’m not threatening you,” he begins. “Quite the opposite, in fact! I’m offering you the chance to cut out the long, arduous process of killing me over and over again until I give… up…”

Some time in the middle of his speech, she’s vanished. Any moment now, she’ll strike, and he’ll have to—

The air comes crashing down on him as he scrambles away, as do a set of needles digging into his back before the pressure is relieved. She’s mauled him. Badly. He needs to get away and regroup, before she can swallow him whole—

His legs fail to respond to his commands, and he hazards a glance behind him.

The edge of his jacket is frayed, blood and viscera seeping through it to the point that he can’t tell where it ends and the nothing begins. A shining trail leads from where the end of his spine should be, before it rises up into the Princess’s jaws.

Oh.

His intestines fall from the Princess’s mouth with a plap, leaving only a disappointed expression and a bloodstain on her face. She stares down at him in silence, viscera dripping from her chin.

Now would be a great time to say something, probably.

He doesn’t.

He wakes up in a cabin whose wooden ceiling looks about ready to give in. The logs framing the empty windows sag in defeat, and the floor is covered in a thin layer of soil. It was mostly-clean planks the first time around, wasn’t it?

It’s odd, but the cabin almost seems… tired. He can’t imagine why, given he isn’t.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” he calls out, scanning the room for her form. “Nice chat we had last time! I’d like to continue it.”

She doesn’t make a sound save for the rustling of her darting through a patch of underbrush. He knows where she is, now, or at least where she was.

“Again, I’m not trying to coerce you into anything.” Where is she? “I just want you to know that you have more options than you think. We want the same thing, you know.”

The feathers on the back of Opportunist’s neck prickle, and he whirls around. Nothing.

The Princess’s voice comes from behind him. “You cannot reason with me, fledgeling. I am so much more than you will ever be.”

She’s going to pounce. He has to move.

Air collides with him as he leaps away, Princess landing precisely where he stood a moment ago. Her chain clatters on the ground as she vanishes again.

That’s one.

“Yes, well, no man is an island.” It doesn’t sound like she’s moving. “And besides, more than me or not, you still can’t escape on your own. Which means, hate to break it to you, but I do have the bargaining chip here.”

The air shifts, and Opportunist finds himself diving on instinct, the Princess soaring past him. That’s two. That’s the first time he’s managed two. Thank you, imaginary Hunted.

He turns, trying to figure out where the Princess has disappeared to this time. “Just say the word, and I’ll march the two of us right up to that door and let you out,” he calls. “This can all end any time you want it to.”

Something in him screams to move, and move he does, but fangs clash on his arm all the same. It’s his blade arm. She’s taken his only weapon.

He scrambles backwards, gripping the stump of his former arm as though it will do anything to stop the bleeding. The Princess looms over him, in full view for the first time.

Her face is somewhere between human and animal, crown replaced with a horn in the center of her forehead, two buds flanking it as though about to emerge into its reflections. Her ears are pointed, and her hair—more like a mane now, really—hangs from her long neck.

Opportunist traces his eyes further down as he continues to crawl away from her. Despite her beastlike form, she’s still wearing a dress, formed from a strip of fabric that wraps around her torso. Her back half disappears into the shadows, the tip of a long tail emerging back into view.

She’s huge.

“I still haven’t given up,” he says as the Princess stretches open her jaw. “I want you to know that before you eat me.”

If she cares about that, she gives no sign before swallowing him whole. Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, ceiling and walls decaying into dirt. Shoots of new plant growth emerge from the floor, and the door looks to have been torn in half, already swinging into the basement.

…Maybe it’s past the point of no return now.

This Princess is far too stubborn to let him free based on talking alone. He needs to do something. Fight her, maybe. But how is he supposed to do that on his own? Her head is as big as his entire… him!

He needs to make a tactical retreat. See if there’s anyone else out there who can act as backup. Imaginary Hunted was helpful. Real Hunted would probably be enough to give him some force behind his words.

The door to the outside is still intact, and fits much more nicely in its frame than the other door, even before it was ripped apart. A quick try of the handle reveals it to be locked.

That’s fine. There’s more than one way out of a cabin.

Despite the clear collapse of the windows, the one on the left still looks plenty large to climb through. He’ll just slip out, fetch the first person he sees, and pop back into the cabin to finish what he star—

A force bars him from stepping more than halfway through the opening. He stands back, checks on the state of the window (folding in on itself, full of dirt) just in case it’s smaller than he thought (it isn’t), and tries again.

Again something stops him. The window may be little more than a hole in the wall letting in air, but he can run his hand across some sort of force. It won’t let him out.

No backup, then. That’s fine. He didn’t really need any help, it was just… it would have been helpful! Help is always helpful.

The only way out is down, back to the Princess. Does he need her to escape just as much as she needs him?

If he does, he’d best not let it slip. Let her think he still has the unambiguous upper hand.

She’s absent from view when he reaches the basement again. He swears the space is getting bigger and more exposed each time he comes down here, but she doesn’t seem to have any issues spotting him.

It’s fine. He’ll wait until he can pinpoint her location—which is to say, he’ll wait until she attacks him again—and then strike. Show her he’s more than just words.

And after that… he’ll think on his feet.

Shapes flicker at the edges of his vision. They’re probably tricks of the light—or lack thereof—but it doesn’t keep him from turning to look at them, trying to catch the Princess before she can catch him. They vanish every time.

There. A shift in the air. The Princess is about to attack. He needs to get out of the way, to keep himself intact. He needs to stay alive long enough to prove he’s not worth preying on.

He needs to show he can bite back.

As the Princess launches herself towards him, he ducks, slashing out with the blade. It connects with something, though he can’t tell what, and she connects with him in return, leaving a gash in one shoulder.

There’s blood on the edge of his blade. He actually did something!

The silhouette of the Princess looms over him, silent. He can’t see where he managed to wound her before she disappears back into the gloom.

“I don’t want to threaten you, but there’s more where that came from if you keep trying to eat me,” he calls out to the Princess. Still no response. Hopefully she hasn’t given up on taunting him. If she’s still talking, there’s at least a chance he can establish some sort of rapport, but with this silence…

Again the air shifts, and again he strikes as the Princess comes crashing down on him. There’s a sting in his other shoulder, and a spray of loose feathers—some black, some white. Probably all his, unless the Princess is hiding something he can’t guess at.

It’s only been a couple minutes, but already his energy is failing him. Is it the blood loss? He hasn’t been that badly injured. It can’t be the loops catching up to him, can it? His wounds reset every time, so he shouldn’t be exhausted just because he’s done a little dying.

The Princess doesn’t give him enough time to figure any of that out. She lunges again, and Opportunist can only feel his blade lodge into something hard and rip from his hand before there’s a crunch all around him, and everything goes dark, and he dies.

Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, if it can still be called a cabin after all the deterioration it’s gone through. The log walls, if they’re even under there anymore, are covered in dirt, and plants fill the edges of the space. The table that should be there is gone, replaced with a stump with the blade lodged into it.

Maybe he is tired. It’s been, how many go-arounds? Five? Six? That’s a lot, and even he has to admit he can’t keep this up forever. The Princess had more of a point than he’d like to admit.

Fighting her was a good idea. But it won’t get the Princess to cooperate with him, not unless he gets a lot better at fighting in the next few loops. And even if he technically might have infinite chances, does he really want to take that long?

He needs to end this, and he needs to do so before he can die a single time more. Which means he needs to be a little clever about things.

No more talking. No more fighting. He’s just going to draw her out and trick her into breaking down the door before she can get her claws on him.

He’s still taking the blade, though. If things go bad—they won’t, but if they go bad—he needs his second option.

The stairs are no longer stairs, but a sloped tunnel that narrows as it descends into the earth. How long have they been deteriorating? Did he just never notice them changing, or is this entirely new?

Doesn’t matter. What matters is winning.

When he steps out into the expanse of the basement, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. Neither are the plants that should be filling the space, or even the grate in the ceiling—just a featureless gloom. When did those vanish?

He’s completely exposed, and she could be anywhere. He’ll have to be quick.

“Yoo-hoo!” he calls out, voice echoing faintly throughout the space. The Princess shows no response. “I think I’m ready for you to eat me now! Just, I’d like for there to be one little caveat—”

The sound of thundering footsteps comes from somewhere deep within the basement, and Opportunist turns and breaks into a run, sparing only enough breath to finish speaking: “You’ll have to catch me first!”

He can feel the Princess gaining on him, floor shaking with every time her feet hit the ground. But she’s clearly massive, and while the tunnel may be wide enough to allow him through with little trouble, she should be slowed down enough for him to get into position.

The entire tunnel shudders as the Princess slams her shoulders against its opening, and Opportunist nearly loses his footing. The cabin is nearly there. A little further and he’ll be—

He bursts into the cabin proper and stands in front of the door, ready to leap away as soon as the Princess emerges. Any second now.

Any second now…

She isn’t leaving. Is this some sort of trick? It has to be a trick, right?

“I’m right at the top of the tunnel!” he shouts down after the Princess. “Come and get me, unless you’ve given up?”

There’s still no response. He hazards a peek down the tunnel.

The Princess was, in fact, caught up by the tunnel’s small size. So much so that only her face is visible, framed by a few clawed hands and some part of a wing, all wedged into a space much too small for her.

She stares up at him, wriggling as though trying to advance—no. She’s pushing in on herself. She means to make her way backwards out of the tunnel, but it’s too narrow even for that.

Her face is hardly human anymore, and her hands certainly aren’t. A trio of antlers rise from her head, blood fresh on two of them. It looks… painful.

It’s a trick. It has to be. If he comes closer, she’ll eat him and…

She can’t get out on her own, even if she were to swallow him whole. And neither can he.

He takes a few steps forward. The Princess tries to squirm away. She can’t.

He raises the blade and brings it down on the dirt of the tunnel wall.

The Princess watches as he carves away at the soil, leaning away to allow him access to each wall of the tunnel. Dirt rains down on her, covering her stray feathers, but she doesn’t make so much as a move to attack him.

Having loosened a ring of soil around the Princess, Opportunist steps back.

She creeps forward, straining against the tunnel. One of her arms breaks free and claws at the dirt he’s yet to address, raking away the walls.

Little by little, the tunnel is chipped away, and little by little, the Princess advances until her head and shoulders have emerged into the cabin. Opportunist barely has enough room to stand between her and the door.

The Princess rears up as much as she can in the relatively cramped space, and Opportunist dives out of the way before her full weight lands on the door.

Soil collapses onto both of them, Opportunist losing sight entirely as it covers his head. This is it, then? He’s going to die inches from freedom because of a landslide?

Something grabs him from his shoulders and hoists him out of the earth. He twists his head upwards to see the Princess, fangs around him. So that’s it. He’s going to die inches from freedom because she’s going to eat him.

The Princess gently lowers her head, setting him on the ground before releasing her jaws.

She’s not going to eat him. Is it because she already has what she wants?

The woods around them resembles a thick jungle, undergrowth barely making way for the path and tall trees rising overhead. Behind them is the fallout of a massive landslide, a tree jutting out sideways from the heap of loose earth.

He stares up at the Princess. She’s… massive. She wasn’t that big when he first saw her. That much he’s certain of.

The Princess stares back down at him.

Then she bounds off into the woods, tail flicking behind her. Her form vanishes within moments.

At least she isn’t eating him.

“Nice meeting you!” he calls after her. “Talk again sometime?”

There is no response. Oh well. You can’t win over them all.

#slay the princess #outside context problem #voice of the opportunist #the beast #the den #stp fanfic

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