The following evening went considerably well, and everyone in the camp had gathered around the bonfire, and the food they cooked wasn't half bad.

After a few hours of asking around the camp, he finally decided that maybe it was time to open up again. It'd been so long since he was part of a group that he could hardly remember what it was like to have connection.
"Corkus, I-"

Suddenly an earsplitting scream sounded off near the camp fire. "Oh, no! More!" The first one to die was the young blonde one, a floating piece of red horned flesh ripping his head from his neck with a set of razor sharp teeth. He couldn't have been older than 16.
"NOOOO!" Guts ran and leaped on top of it, shoving his fist into its eye for lack of his sword.
It flung around and threw him on the ground, easily biting deep into his left forearm.

"You bastard! He was just a kid!" He pulled his arm out of its mouth, digging into its eyes again, his eardrums being burst open by a high pitched screams, but he kept on going.

Now nothing filled his mind but rage, uncontrollable, unbridled rage, driving him deeper and deeper into a rampaging stupor.

...........................................

"Hey! Snap out of it! They're all dead!" Guts looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. Did he do all this?

All he could see around him was blood.