Chapter 4: Tight-Lipped Women

The horse ride was killing me so I didn't have much space in my head to think about other potential problems. And if I ever thought about anything besides my sore ass, it was this ridiculous Law of the Road thing.

 

But there was another issue that from time to time pushed to the surface of my thoughts just from being around them constantly.

 

My party members.

 

Corinne and Vashira.

 

The issue was: are they even capable?

 

Garreth paired me with them, but to whose benefit? Clearly theirs—no question about it. They're his daughters in the end. I'd relied on his expertise when it came to mercenaries since he was one, or used to be.

 

The bottom line was: he knew my worth. He knew I'd be an asset. The untested question was whether his daughters were the best option for me.

 

I watched them.

 

Vashira rode ahead, and every time she pulled the reins, the muscles in her forearms rolled under sun-browned skin—thick, roped. CrossFitter vibe, if I had to put a word to it.

 

Corinne was taller—my height—and even nimbler than her sister. She handled the horse automatically, effortlessly, one hand on the reins while the other rested loose on her thigh. I caught her hands when she adjusted her grip. Calluses. Minor scars across the knuckles. Fingernails like a manual laborer's—short, blunt.

 

Absolutely no makeup in any shape or form on either of them.

 

I'd still fuck them if I were a straight man, no question.

 

I'd fuck them if I were a lesbian.

 

I could still fuck them if they were lesbians and there was any merit in fucking them.

 

To me, they looked like the real-deal adventurers.

 

But who was I to actually judge it? What if they're just dumb bitches waiting to get mugged by the first real bandits?

 

Well, I suppose then I'd join those bandits and rethink my options.

 

Got some answers that very same day.

 

Dusk hit and the road went quiet.

 

Nothing felt out of the ordinary to me, but Corinne's inhuman ears flickered—like a cat or a deer catching something on the wind.

 

Vashira tensed and drew her sword and shield.

 

She was so loud.

 

No—not that she was loud. Everything else was just quiet.

 

Wrong quiet. I got it then. The birds stopped. The insects stopped.

 

The horses heard it before we did.

 

Both mares screamed simultaneously—sharp, terrified. Vashira's horse reared so hard it nearly flipped backward. Corinne's spun sideways, hooves cracking against stone.

 

Then the chittering started.

 

From everywhere.

 

I spun. Couldn't locate it. Sound bouncing off trees, off the road, off my own skull. Like static layered over screaming.

 

Corinne's horse snapped its tie. The rope shredded like thread and the mare bolted straight into the tree line—branches cracking, gear bouncing off its flanks.

 

"Gibberlings," Corinne said it the way someone says "fire" in a crowded theater. Calm. Flat. But absolutely fucking terrified underneath—I could sense it, because I felt that myself!

 

Vashira was already wrestling her horse sideways, trying to keep the thrashing mare from crushing her against a tree. The horse went wild—rearing, slamming its hooves down, nearly catching Vashira in the shoulder. The mare broke free and bolted down the road, saddlebags bouncing.

 

Then I saw them. A mass of pale flesh and black hair pouring out of the tree line.

 

Dozens.

 

Grinning faces with black eyes that had no right to look that happy. Long arms dragging on the ground, some of them clutching crude weapons—knives, daggers, a short sword, maybe. Or just clubs.

 

Fucking monkeys! Furry little shits!

 

They fucking swarmed us! A wall of screaming meat coming at us from three directions.

 

I might have pissed myself a little.

 

But I had this. This was it. You were either a fantasy witch in a magical world, or you were dead.

 

And I wasn't keen on dying.

 

Not now. Not ever!

 

I was already incanting my own atomic bomb, the most powerful magic I'd managed to learn during my months at the Keep.

 

The words and hand gestures needed to be exact or it would never happen.

 

So no pressure. Just a horde of little motherfuckers storming me!

 

I spilled a pinch of fine sand at the exact moment to complete the incantation. It poured out of me. Not a whisper, not a scream—a current. The spell had shape and I gave it direction, pointed it at the center mass like aiming a hose. The energy knew what to do. I just had to let it.

 

The wave hit the center mass.

 

Bodies dropped. One moment they were shrieking, the next they were collapsing mid-stride—pale limbs folding under them like puppets with cut strings. Fifteen, maybe twenty. I couldn't count. They just went down, piled on each other, twitching in sleep they didn't deserve.

 

Brad, you small-dick, manchild, useless piece of shit motherfucker—you were right. Sleep spell was the fucking best AOE in "early game."

 

Well. Game on.

 

And the rest of this apelike filth didn't stop.

 

Didn't even slow down.

 

That was the horror. No pause. No "oh shit, half the swarm just dropped." The remaining ten—or fifteen, or however many—kept coming with the same mindless, grinning frenzy. They stepped over their sleeping kin. Some stepped *on* them.

 

Waking some up!

 

Vashira met the first wave head-on. Her sword came up and down, up and down. No wasted motion. She caught a gibberling mid-leap. The blade took it through the chest. She kicked it off her sword without breaking stance.

 

Thank god. Gods. My angel. Whatever. She actually knew how to fight!

 

Another one lunged. She pivoted, cut downward, removed the motherfucker's arm. It kept crawling toward her with the one it had left.

 

She didn't flinch. Just bashed its skull with her shield.

 

*Okay. She's capable.*

 

I'd cast Mage Armor on myself earlier that day. It probably still held.

 

Hard to track time without a clock!

 

So after Sleep, I was out of big guns.

 

A gibberling-thing broke from the right. I hit it with the same power I killed Borys.

 

They had a name for it here. Mind Sliver.

 

It was actually a minor spell, a cantrip.

 

Not because I was less powerful in this reality than on Earth, but because magic was a thing here, so all creatures were more used to it.

 

And more resistant.

 

Made sense, I supposed.

 

Didn't help my victim, though. The psychic spike lanced out and its skull rattled—that barely-there brain scrambling inside bone. It stumbled. Kept coming. Stumbled again. Dropped.

 

One down. Too many left.

 

Corinne was on it.

 

She sidestepped a charging gibberling, let its own momentum carry it past, and opened its throat in a single backhand stroke. Two more came at her together. She gave ground—one step, two—then drove her pommel into the first one's face and cut the second across the belly.

 

Guts hit the dirt. The thing kept trying to crawl.

 

Corinne stomped its skull open. She was already tracking the next one.

 

I hit another with Mind Sliver. It shrieked and collapsed.

 

I'm not gonna lie. I was getting more and more into it.

 

They weren't even people. I mean, not like people. Or, I don't know. Elves, I suppose?

 

They were just annoying animals. Pests.

 

I fucking hated pests.

 

But putting them down?

 

That was actually invigorating.

 

My head was pounding. I could taste copper.

 

That D&D nonsense about magic users shooting magic without any downsides beyond burning through their slots for the day? Bullshit, straight out the bull's ass!

 

The last three rushed Vashira together. She batted aside one sword, took a claw across the forearm that opened her sleeve and the skin underneath, and buried her blade in the lead gibberling's throat. Corinne came in from the side and took the second. The third threw itself at me.

 

I flinched.

 

Mage Armor held. The impact bounced off the invisible barrier like it had hit a wall. The gibberling rebounded, stunned for half a second.

 

Corinne's sword took its head off.

 

Vashira wiped her blade on a dead gibberling's mane. Blood ran down her forearm from the claw wound. She didn't seem to notice.

 

Corinne scanned the treeline. Sword still up. Still ready.

 

*They're capable,* I thought. *They're very fucking capable.*

We stood in the dark surrounded by twitching bodies and the stink of gibberling blood. My head was splitting, but I cast Light anyway.

 

Because we needed it.

 

And because I wanted to see how sleeping motherfuckers would die when I finished them off one by one with my spells!

 

"We need the horses," Corinne said, as she and her sister joined me in finishing off the unconscious gibberlings.

 

No shit.

 

Didn't find them that night.

 

Didn't find them the next day either.

 

We actually walked to the nearest town on foot.

 

So Ostwick happened to be the first city I'd visited in this world.

 

Without money. And in the company of two horseless women who, even if they'd had any cash yesterday, today were as broke as I was.

 

But at least my companions were capable muscle. They could really swing those swords, I supposed.

 

So it could've been worse.

 

It shouldn't have surprised me that Ostwick's market was a bazaar-style affair—dozens of merchants hawking their goods, encouraging potential buyers, screaming over each other.

 

"Silk! Pure silk from the southern coast!"

 

I stopped. Touched the fabric. The sheen was wrong—flat, single-toned, more like cheap satin than real silk. I bunched it in my fist. Let go. The wrinkles stayed. Real silk bounces back. This stuff had the drape of a lining fabric. Back home I'd use it to wrap a gift, not wear it.

 

Six gold for a scarf.

 

Undergarments. A woman selling linen shifts, properly cut, with stitching that wasn't garbage. I held one up. Soft enough. Eight silver.

 

A tailor's stall with fitted dresses. A leatherworker selling women's gloves. Bone combs at one silver each.

 

I touched everything. Bought nothing. Every merchant's smile faded when I moved to the next stall.

 

Perfumes. An old man with tiny glass vials of rosewater and something musky. I uncorked one. Closed my eyes. For a second I was back in my bathroom. My real bathroom.

 

Five gold. For rosewater.

 

Next stall—pigments. Berry wax lip color in a clay pot. Two silver. Almond kohl. Three silver. A woman grinding something with a mortar and pestle, selling it by the pinch. I tested the lip color on my wrist. Streaky. Under-pigmented.

 

Still fucking wanted it.

 

I needed my own gold. Fast.

 

A girl brushed past me at the pigment stall—young, pretty, with kohl already smudged under her eyes. She dropped three coppers on the counter, took the same berry wax lip color I'd just been fondling, and disappeared into the crowd.

 

I watched her go. The direction she walked. Toward the south side of the market, where the upper-floor windows had red cloth hanging.

 

Brothels. Of course.

 

Ostwick had maybe a few thousand people. For me it was a village. By this world's standards it was a town—a trade town. And a trade town like this probably had more than one brothel. All those merchants, all those caravans, all those men with coin and nowhere to spend it.

 

Locals wanted a piece of that.

 

Local girls wanted a piece of that.

 

And merchants wanted a piece of ass.

 

Open free market at its finest.

 

Every working girl needed lip color, kohl, perfume, linen shifts. And they were the ones who could actually afford it.

 

That's who this market was really for. Not noblewomen. Not merchant wives.

 

Well, I wasn't a fucking spellcaster, a fucking sorceress, to be outdone by common village whores!

 

I looked around for my companions.

 

My party members.

 

Found them near the south end of the market, at a cart stacked with traveling gear—saddlebags, rope, flint, waxed canvas.

 

Vashira was doing the talking. Arms crossed, weight on one hip, head tilted like she was sizing the man up for a fight.

 

Like she was constantly trying to die a virgin.

 

She was a virgin. That much came out when we'd discussed the whole Law of the Road debacle again. Trying to hit on Garreth Vane's daughter meant you had to get through him to get at any of his little princesses. Whatever daddy issues blondie might've had, it was clear Garreth had been cockblocking every guy in her life since she was young.

 

Obviously the same Garreth Vane had no moral qualms about getting some from any other man's daughter.

 

Men are men. Simple as that. Abandon all logic.

 

Corinne wasn't so open about her experiences, which made sense. No point in telegraphing. I kept having to remind myself she only looked twenty-ish, but she was older than me. A grown woman in a world of swords, sorcery, unshaven pubes, and armpits.

 

And Road marriages.

 

"The eastern pass. How far to the mines from the fork?" Vashira continued to interrogate a guy who just wanted to sell her some gear.

 

The merchant held up fingers. "Three days if the weather holds. Four if the mules bog down."

 

"Bandits?" Corinne leaned in.

 

He shrugged. "Seen fewer carts coming back than going. Draw your own conclusions."

 

The sisters hadn't shut up about the mines since we left the Kindly Rest. Every cart, every merchant, every poor bastard within earshot got the same interrogation.

 

Not once had either of them stopped at a perfume stall.

 

Fucking tomboys. I wouldn't be fucking surprised if I caught them pissing standing up.

 

"I'm sure we can get work as escorts for some merchant heading in the direction of the mines," Corinne filled me in as I joined them.

 

That had legs. The sisters had been in this trade for some time—Corinne especially.

 

But if we traveled from here without cash, I wouldn't be able to buy anything.

 

I didn't argue. I nodded, but also added: "We could also look for some local work."

 

Corinne considered, then inclined her head. Vashira rolled her eyes. "Fine."

 

What the fuck was wrong with that girl?

 

Anyway.

 

Ostwick had a substantial hospitality sector due to being a vital trade hub for the local economy. Multiple taverns. All geared toward visitors—locals drank elsewhere without fancy liquor and inflated prices.

 

Even places that weren't brothels had working ladies freelancing.

Because the town was so saturated with whores, no one tried to catcall my companions. With options like that, harassing armed women didn't seem like a good idea.

 

Plus, considering our predicament, our sweat-stained asses weren't standing out so much in a room full of professionals offering their services.

 

But on the other hand, that meant if someone actually wanted to approach us, it wasn't because he wanted a piece of something we weren't about to sell.

 

Well, if not for my tomboy escort, I'd easily get myself a drink and dinner on someone else's dime. I was sure of that.

 

"Um… Yuna, I don't think we can afford this place," Vashira said conspiratorially when we entered the fanciest tavern in town.

 

"I don't think we can afford any place," Corinne clarified, but kept it cool.

 

I gave them a confident look, as a true leader should.

 

They didn't show the slightest sign that they opposed my position right now.

 

They also wanted a solution.

 

And leadership was just that—the ability to project a path to a solution.

 

But a leader didn't just need to sell her followers on the plan.

 

She also needed to be shameless enough to believe it herself.

 

And I believed it.

 

I'd wasted enough evenings of my past life on boring D&D sessions to know that a tavern floor was the best place for potential quests.

 

Some jerk slapped the waitress's ass so hard she stumbled…

 

Tray full of drinks and all…

 

Looked like they'd land on me and the sisters.

 

Not on my fucking watch.

 

I cast Shape Water—yet another cantrip I'd mastered during my months at the Keep. My angel was right. I was a natural-born magician, and doing magic felt natural.

 

So right.

 

Ale and wine froze solid midair—ruby and amber shards that bounced off our clothes and shattered on the floor.

 

Not only did the liquid freeze—the whole fucking tavern froze, staring at us.

 

I smirked.

 

Now that's an entrance.

 

We sat down.

 

And lo and behold, some kid zeroed in on us from across the tavern like we had a sign over our heads.

 

I knew what he saw. Three women who'd walked into town looking like they'd been dragged through a hedge, fought something in it, and lost their horses in the process.

 

Vashira's sleeve was still crusted with dried blood from the gibberling claw.

 

Corinne's cloak was torn at the hem.

 

As for me, I'd freshened up with a Prestidigitation cantrip, but God knows I needed a bath!

 

We looked like people who'd killed something recently and hadn't bothered to clean up after.

 

Apparently that was exactly what this idiot was looking for.

 

He crossed the room with a grin that had no business being that confident.

 

Young. Maybe twenty. Clean hands, clean nails. 

 

He smelled like perfume. Actual perfume.

 

A sword at his hip that was too ornate, too well-maintained. Riding boots that had never seen mud.

 

Handsome little shit. I'll give him that. Dark hair swept back, a jawline that belonged to a Vogue cover.

 

A privileged playboy type.

 

Wait… is that a noble?

 

He swept into a bow. Actual bow.

 

I glanced at the sisters. Vashira was impressed, Corinne not a fucking bit.

 

Ok, he is a noble.

 

"Ladies," he started politely. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, but I find myself in desperate need of three women who look like they could ruin someone's evening."

 

He was a smooth fucking talker. I'd fucked so many boys like him that I wanted to vomit right then and there.

 

The waitress brought the wine I'd already ordered to our table before I'd figured out who would pay for it.

 

She didn't raise the issue when I ordered it. Not after our grand entrance.

 

But that was behind us now, since a sponsor had just graced us with his presence.

 

His eyes moved between us. Lingered on Vashira, Corinne's ears, and my cleavage. Back to my eyes. He grinned like he'd been caught stealing.

 

I took a sip.

 

"Is this a foursome proposition?" I smirked.

 

Vashira choked on her drink.

 

Corinne cleared her throat.

 

The boy opened his mouth, closed it, and then smiled.

 

Such a slimeball.

 

"I'm Dallin Lockley, and… I need protection. Stunning, intimidating, armed protection."

 

He looked at the three of us like we were exactly what he'd been praying for.

 

"What's the job?" asked Vashira.

 

"My friend is in a spot of trouble—misunderstanding with the local establishment. Three men are hunting her. Armed men."

 

Oh, so he was just a simp.

 

"What's the pay?" Corinne inquired.

 

"Three hundred gold."

 

I smiled.

 

Dallin led us through the back streets of Ostwick.

 

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Vashira snorted.

 

"'Cause this kind of pay for protection always means trouble," Corinne replied.

 

I did the math in my head myself. Something was fishy about it. I knew it. The sisters knew it. Dallin knew we knew it.

 

I didn't comment—didn't have to. Vashira and Corinne voiced their concerns but didn't argue about taking the job. They were adventurers, and that was the mindset. Take a big risk to earn big bucks. Work hard, play hard, that kind of thing.

 

Not exactly what I preferred in my past life, but I understood it well enough. In the end I'd been about to get killed in my mid-thirties, and only my magic powers had saved me before my angel snatched me out of there.

 

So in this life, I'd decided to be more proactive. Take more risks. Besides, my girls and I had just swept three or four dozen gibberlings yesterday. We were capable.

 

We found Dallin's sweetheart outside a boarded-up warehouse near the east gate. Leaning against the wall like she'd been waiting for hours and wanted us to know it.

 

Tall, raven-haired, sharp-jawed. Late twenties maybe, but working hard to look early twenties. She wore a dress that was trying to be elegant and landing on "available." Rings on three fingers. None of them matched.

 

Her eyes went to Dallin first. Warm. Proprietary. The way you look at something you own.

 

Then her eyes went to us. First the sisters, then me. Back to Dallin. Her jaw tightened for exactly one second before she caught it and rearranged her face into something pleasant.

 

"Dallin. I see you've found your… protectors," she said, looking at me again.

 

"I have! This is—"

 

"I didn't ask for names." She cut him off without looking away from me. "I asked for swords."

 

Her eyes stayed on mine. Assessing. I knew that look. I'd given that look. She was calculating whether I was competition for the resource she was milking.

 

And I was.

 

I smiled at her. She didn't smile back.

 

"You hired women," she said to him. Flat.

 

"You have a problem with that?" Vashira asked In no-bullshit fashion. Being a female adventurer, she probably got this kind of crap a lot, and her tone indicated she wasn't going to take it from anyone—especially not another woman.

 

Obviously Vashira totally misread the situation. Dallin's chick wasn't doubting our capabilities—on the contrary, she instinctively viewed us as competition.

 

Me in particular.

 

As she should.

 

Because small-tits gals like her should know their place in the pecking order!

 

I watched her work through it. The jealousy was real—sharp, instinctive. She didn't want other pussy near her meal ticket. I'd seen it a hundred times in corporate wives at Christmas parties. The way they'd circle their husbands when a new secretary walked in.

 

The tight smile—If their other lips were that tight, they wouldn't have to worry!

 

But this one was smart enough to recalculate. She knew Dallin's weakness because she'd exploited it herself. Pretty women made him stupid. If three pretty women were standing here, it was because Dallin's dick had done the hiring.

 

Not a threat to her gig. Just more tools in the box.

 

Her shoulders relaxed. The smile came back. Real this time.

 

"Well." She pushed off the wall. "I suppose I should explain the situation."

 

She looked at the three of us like a manager briefing contractors.

 

"Three men are coming for me. Merchants. They claim I wronged them—lies, of course. The ravings of bitter, grasping men. They will arrive soon, and they will threaten me. Your job is simple: dispose of them when they do."

 

Vashira snorted, looked at me, then at her sister. Our read of the situation was identical. This was assassination work. Dark alley, evening—somehow merchants were going to 'arrive' here to 'threaten' her.

 

Definitely not her setting up an ambush on them in a dark alley. No, no.

 

I inclined my head, smiled at her and Dallin. "We will act as your guard, with all that it involves—such as 'disposing' of threats to your life. For the agreed price." I said it calmly and looked at Dallin. The sisters nodded slowly. It was clear to me they weren't happy with straight murder.

 

The woman smirked. "Good. And I would advise you—strike fast. Whatever you do, don't speak with them." She paused. Let that sit. "One of them is a mage. His mystic words can sway even the most wise of men. Or women."

 

I raised an eyebrow. So recruiting me in particular made even more sense now. Fight fire with fire, I supposed. That was Dallin's idea.

 

And yeah, that made sense. Don't let a mage get a word in. Obviously.

 

But then.

 

But then I'd said that exact phrase to Brad's lawyer once, before a meeting with a competitor's CFO. "Don't let him talk. Just get the signature." You say that when you know the other side's explanation will fuck your narrative.

 

I looked at her. She looked at me.

 

She knew I knew.

 

She didn't care. She thought I was just another greedy adventurer who'd take the money and swing the sword or spell.

 

I smiled at her again.

 

She smiled back.

 

We were both lying.

Hoya’s corpse remained standing for several heartbeats. His cheerful chittering cut off in a wet gurgle. By the time everyone turned toward him and understood what had happened, all hell had already broken loose. His corpse collapsed, marking the beginning of all-out bedlam.

Grabbing his rifle, Leo shifted and took aim. His crosshairs landed on the shimmering, shifting nothingness. Offering no quarter, Leo hammered out rounds. The rifle bucked rhythmically against his shoulder, each hateful belch sending death across the gully .

Thunder erupted from the muzzle, his will cast across the gulley. Rounds slammed into the shimmer.

With such a rough target hit zone, Leo trained on the eyes. Each time his crosshairs settled on the green orbs, the rifle roared. Blood splattered from each wound, showering the area in glowing purple ichor. He tracked the monster, giving it all the hell he possibly could, until he raised fire. The creature, having not slowed down, was now far too close to Selene and the remaining warriors for him to be any help against them.

The monster reared back on its hind legs and roared, an ear-piercing, hateful cry that shook the entire forest from there to the far-off cabins.

Half the wolfkin recoiled, dropping their weapons in hopes of saving their hearing by clamping down on their heads. Even Matra clutched desperately at her ears, screaming in agony.

Across the gully, only Selene stood her ground. SShe exploded forward, claws bared, as she roared in defiance.

With ease, she ducked and dodged around the monster's strikes, those shimmering wires arching around it like a twister. Her armor deflected most, but a few did ring her bell slightly, sounding akin to a can being forced through a trash disposal.

If she registered the hits, she did not show it at all. If anything, she sped up with each strike, forcing more mana into her muscles.

Like a barbarian of old tales, Selene raged, every instinct in her demanding she kill this creature and protect her family.

She collided with the beast, toppling it over. She and the monster became a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and blood. Quickly, the sight descended into pure madness with Selene ripping limbs from her opponent, while pure brutality burned in her breath.

The meager amount of blood Leo's bullets had sent showering was nothing compared to what she had done. With each severed limb, a firehose of ichor poured out gradually revealing the monster's true form. a long, twisted thing with too many joints and a lizard's silhouette stretched into something deeply wrong. Something that was infernally wrong as its myriad of tendril-like hairs spasmed in pure panic.

She besieged the monster, as the other wolfkin regained their senses and joined her with no hesitation. They took up the tools of their deadly trade and descended on the beast like a swarm of angry badgers.

They stabbed, jabbed, and carved into the abomination. Like the trained soldiers they were born to be, the wolfkin were ducking and weaving from what few striking limbs it had left.

A flicker near the cave entrance caught Leo's eye. It was not much at first, just another glimmer, like a sniper's glint. Still, after the first monster had used cloaking abilities, and Leo, having spent half a decade ingraining kill the other sniper fast into his soul, the Ranger instinctively shifted, flicked the giggle switch, and hosed the opening with full auto fire.

Just like the first, purplish blood oozed lightly from the wound, letting him see the enemy more easily. He leaned the weapon further, holding the last few rounds more on target now that he had a solid idea of where the fucker was.

He rode the lightning, each round finding purchase in the beast's scaled hide.

“Matra, give him hell, shoot the fucking cave!” Leo yelled as his bolt locked back, and he went through a perfect by-the-books emergency reload.

She did not fire. Sparing a glance, Leo sighed and returned to shooting within a heartbeat. Matra was wide-eyed and staring across the way. He did not need to ask what she was staring at. Like Selene, she was related to everyone across the way—Hoya would have been her cousin if Leo remembered their relationship correctly.

So long as she did not do anything stupid. Her freaking out right there was fine. Leo had not genuinely considered her a factor in his plan.

In short order, the wolf-kin had ripped the first monster limb from limb, suffering only a few injuries. Leo did not have to direct them to attack the second one. They spared a glance his way, then followed the most recent tracer as it lanced through the trees.

As before, they attacked it like Piranna, pulling the creature down with raw strength as they all stabbed it to death. Trusting them to kill that monster. Leo looked back at Matra while sliding a fresh magazine into his rifle.

Seeing Matra freezing like a possum once shit his the fan was expected. Leo, like so many of his brothers in arms, considered himself a professional soldier: a warrior, a master of the craft of indescribable violence.

Just as any professional in any environment, from the bluest of blues to the starchiest white-collar, Leo and his guild of pipe hitters not only practiced the profession; they read about it. A book he'd read years ago surfaced in his thoughts: On Killing.

The author argued that only a small percentage of soldiers actually fired their weapons in combat. Fewer still aimed to kill. All the rest froze up or hid. That Matra was part of the largest group was expected. Maybe with time, Leo could train her to respond as he was, but that was a consideration for other times.

For now, they had to move and keep up the pressure. That second invisible enemy had come from the cave; no doubt, there would be more.

“Come on,” Leo said, standing and patting Matra on the back. "We gotta keep 'em on the back foot."

She flinched hard, like his mere touch was a Taser. It was a good thing that Matra respected the rule of keeping the rifle's safety on. If she had kept it constantly off, like many Afghan tribal fighters, she would have stitched full auto hate right toward her sister and the others.

“What?” Matra asked, looking toward Leo but not quite at him.

“Let’s go. We have to go help the others.”

It took several moments for Matra’s mind to catch up to speed, to reconcile all the violence she had just witnessed within the last few minutes, but as soon as she was back in the here and now, she scrambled to her feet, almost falling off the rock they had set up on.

As quick as a cottonmouth, Leo grabbed Matra’s wrist and yanked her away from the edge. “Be careful.”

Matra blushed and looked up at Leo while unconsciously biting her lower lip. “Sorry...Leo.”

“It’s alright. Just try not to fall,” he replied, righting her and starting down the trail down the gulley.

They trailed one after the other down the switchback. From on high, they could somewhat see how the plants gradually died toward the cave, but from down here, they could truly see the horror of the demon's effects. All the plants were still wilting and rotting at the roots, but now up close, they could see the rotting insects and small animals.

Some looked mummified. Others appeared half-melted into the earth itself. Much like the flora's roots, the fauna was being eaten away by the vile energies crawling from the cave. Each had a black, mold-covered mummy look to it.

An errant thought crossed Leo’s mind. He wondered if that would happen to the demons they had killed, if they, too, would be consumed to feed this depraved power. He did not have to wait long. As they crested the top of the ridge, the demons' bodies came into view, and they were being consumed, both appearing to have been dead for weeks.

There was a fetid stench in the air, one leaking off the monsters. Whatever magic concealed them from sight must have also affected scent. There is no way a wolf-kin would not have been able to follow the odor. It was positively nose-curling, so bad that Leo would rather be standing by the burn pits on Bagram.

Across the way, Selene kept watch on the cave entrance while the rest of the wolfkin were tending to their wounds. Leo went over to Selene, as Matra moved over to Hoya’s corpse. The other wolf-kin had dragged it up from the gulley while they moved across.

Matra dropped to her knees and was frantically digging at the ground around the body. Everyone could see why. Much like the monsters, plants, and other animals, the demonic rot was crawling up his body and burrowing into the remnants of his decapitation with the most fervor.

The others shared an uncomfortable look, then looked back at Matra. The question was silent yet deafeningly loud. Can she hold it together?

The other wolfkin warriors went to tend to her. With them taking care of her well-being, Leo turned his attention to Selene.

He looked her up and down, taking in her shredded mithril armor and blood-soaked face. “You alright? You’re bleeding.”

“I will be. The second hunter thing cut my ear half off. But it is nothing Eli can’t fix when we get back,” Selene replied, wiggling her ears through her helmet, a deep tear split one ear nearly in half . “My armor...not as much.”

She ran her claws over her armor, half the plates dented in, the others looking like a piece of paper an angry kitten thought would make a fun scratching post.

“Is that even doing anything at this point?”

“If we fight more invisible enemies, no. But I don’t think we will.” Selene replied.

“Why is that?”

“After the second one died, I was able to pick up on the kid's scent. They went into the cave.” Selene cast her gaze toward the looming dark entrance.

“Well, let’s get everyone ready and get in there,” Leo replied, turning back toward the wolf-kin and nearly jumping out of his skin when he found Vinya no less than a breath away from him.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Vin, we went over this. I can’t hear like you. “Don’t do that,” Leo breathed heavily from surprise.

“Sorry about that, boss. I forgot. But I wanted to know what we should do about,” he kicked his head back over his armored shoulder toward Matra.

“Nothing. She signed up and is coming with us.”

“You sure? She doesn’t seem to be...adapting well. And you know she is a woman. Are we really sure she should be out here?”

From behind, Leo Selene coughed harshly into her paw and glared at her relative. He folded his ears and corrected himself. “You know what I mean, Selene, you ain’t like the other women from the pack. You are good at fighting, the others...not so much”

“You are forgiven. But I do see your point,” Selene sighed before looking to Leo for adjudication. “Are you sure we should bring her inside? She could just stay here, or go get back up.”

Leo paused and looked over to Matra, thinking hard about it. Yes, leaving her was the wise choice regarding the mission and the mission alone. But what about for her? She came here to prove something to herself; taking away the choice to come along was not his place. He might be acting as a commander here, but he held no genuine authority.

This was not the regiment where he could simply tell the heartbreakers it was time to take a city block over, and they would just jump in. Leo needed to use something that more than one of his old officers wanted him to learn. Tact.

“I will talk to her. See if she wants to keep going. If not, I will send her back to get reinforcement while the rest of us move in. If she wants to go, the plans have not changed.” Leo confirmed. “Vin, get the guys ready to enter the cave. We are going in asap, with or without Matra.”

“Come on, guys, rally on me,” Vinya yelled after nodding his confirmation.

The wolfkin passed Leo at the halfway point, each looking as worried as the last. Leo could not blame them; they were haggard, each covered in wounds and loosely tied bandages. Their first contact tore them a new one. Diving headlong into another fight right after being given such a thrashing was never an enjoyable premise. But they were soldiers doing what soldiers would do, suck it up and follow orders.

“So how’s the death of the fairytale going?” Leo asked Matra, crouching beside her and looking down as Hoya’s body was still being absorbed. She had given up on digging the rot away from the body at this point and instead kept her dirty paws on her thighs.

“Is it always this bad?” she looked up towards Leo, pleading desperation in her eyes. It was the same look Leo had seen on so many young soldiers after their first death. Not only the death of someone they knew and cared about, but the death of their innocence.

“No,” Leo replied, but did not allow Matra time to misinterpret his words as some bastion of hope. “Usually, it's worse. That we’re only using guns, claws, and swords makes it a lot less violent.”

“How could anything be worse than this?”

“Well, artillery, bombs dropped from jets, rockets, chain cannons, there are plenty of more brutal weapons. All of those make you past tense in a way that is hard to describe as anything other than red mist.” Leo replied. “Been on both ends of plenty of those tools enough times to tell you Hoya got lucky--- at least he died quickly.”

Matra paused and looked back toward the body, resting her hand on Hoya’s chest. “How do you keep doing this?”

Leo rested his hand atop her, gently squeezing it. “Yah know, it took me a long time to figure that out. But for me, I learned that I was able to do something, able to prevent the deaths of those I care about.”

“By killing others?”

“Yeah. I kill them to keep those I care about safe.” Leo nodded, standing while picking up Matra’s rifle. “So are you going to keep others safe? Or do you want to run? I won’t judge you either way.”

Matra looked at the weapon, staring at it like it would give her some answer. After a few moments, she muttered something to herself so silently that Leo could not hear. She looked up at Leo, a small ember of fury in her eyes. Without another word, Matra took the rifle.

“Let’s go kill some commies,” Leo smirked.

------

Prev

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First

Repost to

Sigma Tauri sighed. As if finals month weren't enough of a nightmare already? Demons came out raiding in full force. She and her team have been running ragged. And somehow, Alpha Centauri and Orion Belt were still... *URGH*

Finding the energy to do **THAT!**. She never understood how anyone actually enjoyed that... Just... *URGH!* Sticky fluids everywhere, SOMETHING breaching your body, and/or your mouth on the weirdest parts... At least Penrose Sphere made sense! SHE FED THAT WAY!

"Hey, Sig! You look like you are NOT having a good time..."

"What gave it away, Penrose? The bags under my eyes, the constant sighs and shivers, or..."

"That and your aura."

"My... Aura?"

"Your aura. I mean everyone has an aura that's affected by their emotional and physical state, and we succubi and incubi are natural at reading it! Maybe one day I'll teach you!"

"... How are Orion and Alpha?"

"Sleeping VERY comfortably. Getting the kind of good night's sleep you can only DREAM of!"

Sigma Tauri grimaced...

"Nonono, I did NOT mean it like that! I know you have a hard time falling asleep and sometimes you wake up and have a horrible time going to sleep..."

"HOLD ON! Are you saying that SOMEHOW, you draining them makes them MORE energetic?"

"... Yeah! I mean no. Not directly. I leave them drained but well fed and sleeping it off. A good night's sleep outweights what I drained from them even before they get to replenish their reserves!"

"I'm glad you're such a considerate teammate Penrose. And I'm happy you remember to get dressed!"

The succubus laughed.

"Yeah, I don't want you to feel queasy any time you see me."

"It's nothing against you..."

"I know, Sig. I'll make you coffee, boss. Grinded the beans myself. About to use one of these coffee making things you see in that Persona 5 game! What kind of milk do you want in it?"

"Any's fine. I'm not picky, Penrose!"

"You got it Sig!" Penrose gave a quick salute and rushed out of the room.

She came back half an hour later with several thermoses worth of iced coffee.

Tastiest, sweetest, most coziest coffee Sigma Tauri ever had.

"Thanks Penrose! You're the best! We don't always see eye to eye, but I'm glad to count you amongst the Pretty Star Sentinels! The first succubus Magical Girl! What a day to be alive, eh?"

"Yeah. and it's all because I checked my ego, sadism and fanaticism at the door. So many of my kind are just... *URGH!* They'd rather die than checking their sense of superiority and power over humans at the door! They'd pass on the greatest FREE all you can eat buffet of lust, or of adrenaline and aggression any Demon could EVER have, all because getting there means meeting you guys on an equal enough footing! Seriously, a day at the UFC Octagon would feed so many Blade Demons it's not even funny, and don't get me started on how many Marines, Spetsnaz, SAT and so on would LOVE to spar with peeps with alien biologies, LITERAL MAGIC, and alien combat styles!"

Sigma Tauri laughed.

"Hey, Sig...What's a Penrose Sphere though?" Penrose asked.

"... You'll have to ask Alpha Centauri. She LIVES for that nerdy stuff, and she'll tell you all about how that theoretical megastructure supposedly extracts energy from black holes of all things!"

"Black holes. Of course. I'm one of you so I get in on the star theme naming, but I don't have to renounce nor hide being a demon so my tac-name is black hole derived." Penrose smiled.

"Yuppers!"

As they spent the next few hours together, Penrose providing help with Sigma Tauri's homework while they were on standby... Sigma Tauri smiled when came the time to sleep.

Penrose even helped tuck her to bed and put a sleeping mask on her face. Best sleep she ever had!

But when she woke up, she was somewhat upset at what she found.

"Okay girls, who STOLE MY COFFEE?"

Alpha Centauri and Orion Belt looked at each other confused. Penrose was innocent by default, she did not feed on human foods.

"... We didn't grab your coffee. We grabbed the thermoses Penrose left for us..."

"WHY DID YOU THINK THEY WERE FOR YOU?"

"... Because they had milk in them and you're asexual?" Alpha Centauri answered matter of factly.

"You do know there's nothing sexual about goat milk, right?"

"Depends on what kind of goat. Because Penrose's milk is the Greatest Of All Things!"

Sigma Tauri froze. And then rushed to the bathroom to puke. She was at it for an hour.

Penrose looked at Alpha Centauri and Orion Belt with a mix of concern and confusion.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"... Why did you give her SUCCUBUS BREAST MILK COFFEE???"

"I asked her what kind of milk she wanted! She said any was fine! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW MY OWN MILK WAS OFF THE TABLE???"

There was silence until Sigma Tauri came out of the bathroom looking queasy still.

"Penrose? What in HELL possessed you to give me BREAST MILK???"

"Sig... You told me any kind of milk was fine!"

"Did it not cross your mind that, maybe, JUST MAYBE, I DID NOT WANT BREAST MILK?"

"... No? Why didn't you say so?"

Silence,

"You do realize what breast milk means when adults drink it, right?"

"A nourishing, stimulating solution perfect for a little pick me up?"

"... IT! IS! LEWD!"

"Yes, and?" Penrose answered, confused.

"... Sigma Tauri is... She does not have a sex drive AND even the second-hand sensory experience of it is very uncomfortable on her. Sticky stuff everywhere, smells and sweat and..."

"... Oh. Sorry Sig. My bad Sig. Won't do it again and I will CLEARLY label any edibles or drinkables I LITERALLY poured myself in to ANY degree."

"... Thank you Penrose. You are forgiven. Where the hell did you grow up that putting your breast milk in someone's drinks feels normal to you though?"

Alpha Centauri and Sigma Tauri facepalmed.

"In the Abyss Between Dimensions? Why?" Penrose answered.

"... Ask a stupid question... You're not even being snide. You're not even TRYING to be snarky... Somehow it feels even more snide. Like the UNIVERSE ITSELF is laughing at me for even THINKING of asking such a stupid question."

This was going to be one of those days for Sigma Tauri...

(This was a story set in the same universe as this: https://www.reddit.com/r/NSFWworldbuilding/comments/1vtatuu/a_succubus_magical_girl/ )

When Demons launch raids on Earth to steal life energy from the humans, attempting to abduct some, humans do not tend to like it. They tend to want to fight back.

But Demons, having their very own dimension to retreat to, and being able to blend in to some extent, make for a difficult terrorist groups to counter by conventional CTUs. Sorry Team Rainbow, we love you, but they tend to be long gone by the time you get there.

Unconventional methods such as Magical Girls sensitive to their energies and their powers actually can fight and pursue on their terms. While they may sound and look ridiculous with their pretty outfits, "Love Beams" throwing deadly hearts around, they do have the magically enhanced mobility and reflexes AND the magical attunements to identity attacks before conventional CTUs and get on the scene in time.

Now, a team of Magical Girls would be the LAST place you would expect to find a Succubus in. Aren't they Demons, AKA the natural enemy of Magical Girls?

Well, that Magical Girls team was actually as surprised as you were when a Succubus wanted to defect to them. and so were the demons when they ran into the traitor.

But why did she defect to the Magical Girls team?

"I get more energy in a day by asking humans politely than you all do in 3 months worth of magical terrorism. Hell, if my teammates accept to top me up, I get more human life energy in one act than you all get in a year! Do the smart thing, join the winning team! Don't get yourself killed because of fanaticism, ego or sadism! It's a FREE all you can eat buffet out there if you ask nicely! Just bring the humans some nice food and let them rest! The faster they replenish life energy, the faster you can eat again!"

--> Penrose Sphere, Ambusher and Succubus Defector's version of the usual Cease and Desist and demand of surrender to avoid a messy fight when running into succubi operatives. She has alternate variants for other Demons and alternate feeding methods (Battle Demons are told that the UFC Octagon is the free all you can eat buffet for example) So far, no Demon took her offer.

How did the Pretty Star Sentinel team took it?

"We took her on a tryout basis and she actually tries to talk with other Demons! They never listen though, so we fight them together! So we gave her a Pretty Star Wand and a Love Star Pendant! No regrets! Well, actually, not quite. There are some regrets. She turned the Pretty Star Wand into a violet wand, and the magical heart-shaped jewel into a... Well, it's not a heart anymore. I want to be mad, but I'm too impressed she even pulled off the modifications at all. She's clearly part of the team, but her uniform is definitely nonstandard."

---> Team Leader Sigma Tauri.

"... Well, I mean... What we know as a heart symbol... Actually kindof comes from Ancient Roman depiction of a... Well, backside. A rump. So the modifications make sense for her theme. So does the violet wand. It's a subtle shift in symbolism that make them resist her magic a lot less. The sheer amount of reroutes and bypasses she made to it and made work... It intrigues my scientific curiousity... And I can analyze her magic to come up with better counter."

---> Field Analyst and Arcanist Alpha Centauri.

""Scientific curiousity?" Bullshit! Alpha Centauri is a closet perv who's just happy that a succubus is fucking her brains out without having to betray us! She's the one who modified Penrose Sphere's kit!"

---> High Speed Assaulter Orion Belt.

"Do not listen to Orion Belt's absolute and utter SLANDER! Every word coming out of her mouth is BULLSHIT"

---> Field Analyst and Arcanist Alpha Centauri.

"I'm going to have to call BOTH of you out on your bullshit. Yes, Alpha Centauri is defintely a closet repressed perv. But she is a tech genius AND an inquiring scientific mind who has helped me adjust my equipment (as I am attuned to it, it is best that I am the one doing the modifications!) with her tutoring and expertise. Her commitment to protecting Earth is unwavering and she would have NEVER willingly betrayed you. As much of a perv as she is, she DOES have ENDLESS scientific curiousity. Being absolutely RIDICULOUSLY horny AND being an inquiring scientific mind are not mutually exclusive traits. Got it?"

--> Penrose Sphere, Ambusher and Succubus Defector

"Sorry I've been mean to you and implied you were just a perv and denied you were a super smart and valuable teammate, Alpha Centauri."

---> High Speed Assaulter Orion Belt's apology.

"Sorry I implied you were a pathological liar, Orion Belt."

---> Field Analyst and Arcanist Alpha Centauri's apology.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, will you two good girls kiss and make up under my supervision?

--> Penrose Sphere, Ambusher and Succubus Defector's

[Marathon three way sex session has been removed from the documentary to keep it nonpornographic.]

"I swear, Orion Belt is so starved for anything remotely resembling praise despite being such a good girl, I GENUINELY HATE the fact I don't know her civilian identity because the Pendant makes sure to make our bodies and faces forgettable and unremarkable, since I would LOVE to have a chat with her clearly at best neglectful, at worst ACTIVELY ABUSIVE relatives. And I do mean a chat. Literally, NOT a euphemism. People get chatty with me and reveal incriminating things in polite talks with me sometimes."

--> Penrose Sphere, Ambusher and Succubus Defector's closing lament on her team dynamics, as she laid with exhausted Orion Belt and Alpha Centauri and affectionately cuddled them, letting them comfortably rest suckling on her teats, all three of them coated in blurred out fluids.

https://preview.redd.it/zdnzp4l8xgkh1.png?width=1000&format=png&auto=webp&s=e099064b16c66c89e82a816745e3585f7009be54

(Art from Nanoless. Source: https://www.hentai-foundry.com/pictures/user/Nanoless/1014971/Nanoless-Succubus )

Hours had gone by, and Leo and Selene had scoured the floating island they were on, finding neither hide nor hair of Malo, Yasha, or Jorda. In as meticulous a way as possible, they searched, gridding off the island, using thermals and scent in every direction. But all that came up with was signs of Malo and the others near the camp, then suddenly vanishing at the woods' edge.

It was as if the world had simply swallowed them whole, leaving no tracks, no scent, and no explanation behind .

That Selene could not track them by scent at all was beyond concerning. It was downright unnatural. Even Matra was stumped as to how the kids seemingly disappeared. Nothing outside of magical intervention could indefinitely conceal your presence from a wolf-kin's keen senses.

Sure, you might be able to trick one for a moment or two, such as when Leo ambushed Selene during the game of tag, but even then, that only worked because Selene was relaxed, and Leo was right there. If she had taken the game more seriously, Selene would have found Leo with ease.

Leo held Selene close to him, as she quietly sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt. With a silent glance at Matra, she stepped closer and reached out to take over care for her distraught sister. Selene resisted for a moment as Matra rested a hand on Selene’s shoulder, but once Leo nodded to her, she relented.

The sisters returned to the camp---only ten yards away---needing to keep the kids calm and present. A few had tried to rush off and join the search, while others were borderline panicking. They, like Selene, were one wrong word from being thrust into an abyss of despair, losing themselves in the morose fear of their friends’ safety.

The sun drooped below the floating island just as Leo reached the crest of a hill to the camps west. His shadow stretched far and long, covering the camp and all those who were under his charge.
All were his responsibility. Every frightened child around that fire. Every scout entrusted to him. And three of them were missing because he had ignored the warning gnawing at the back of his mind.
Meticulously, he double-checked his gear: night-vision goggles, thermal imagers, rifle, radio, and a dozen other small pieces of kit that would hopefully help him recover the kids. But Leo could not do it alone. He needed Selene at his side, but without getting the kids to safety, he knew she would not go with him.

What Leo really wanted was a fully loaded Blackhawk, a team straight out of the 75th, and enough ordinance to make a master EOD technician blush. But he was fresh out of that, so he would take a tomboy wolf-kin and a master of the druidic arts.

“Miri, do you copy?” Leo said into his shoulder-mounted microphone.

“I hear you, soldier boy. What can I do for you?” Miri replied, her tone slightly annoyed. Glancing at his watch, Leo could tell why. It was almost 1800, Miri liked to relax with a glass of whiskey at this hour. His call likely pulled her away from a freshly poured old-fashioned.

“I need you to get the Wolf-kin clan moving to search for the kids; a few of them have gone missing.”

For the first time since Leo had met her, Miri didn't immediately have something to say. The pause was long enough that Leo was about to key the PTT again to see if Miri copied. As he grabbed the speaker, it exploded with rapid-fire questions and frantic concern. Wincing away from the caterwauling speaker, Leo cringed.

He let Miri run her course; eventually, she calmed down enough that he could get a word in edgewise and explain what had happened, what they knew, and ultimately what Leo wanted. He wanted to use the Wolf-kin to both escort all the kids back to the park proper and act as an armed search force.

In the closest intent, he wanted to recreate a hatchet team, a type of raiding, a quick reaction force dating back to Vietnam. Plus, it would allow him to spread little groups of angry wolf-kin throughout the park, ready to attack whatever took the kids.

“Ok, I will talk to Rork and get them moving. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, I need you to get Elowin out here and have her get Lesh involved in the search.”

Dead air hung over the radio, a long silence, one that Leo could feel weighing on him. It was not because Miri was shocked; Leo knew that. Leo was asking to play with fire. Hopefully, no one would get burned.

“Are you sure you want him involved?” Miri asked.

“Yes.”

—--

 

“I don’t care what you say. I am coming with you both,” Matra stomped her foot, protesting while Leo helped Selene slip into her armor.

“And I told you you are not. We all have a role to play, and you have to protect these kids until your pack arrives.” Leo reiterated, gesturing to the kids all huddled around the fire.

“I will just follow you.”

“The hell you will,” Selene growled at her sister, turning around and jabbing a claw into Matra’s chest.

Matra stumbled back, yelping from each hit from Selene. Her sisters' claws dig deep and draw blood. As Matra stepped back, her paw caught on a rock and nearly sent her stumbling back and really into the pile of equipment Leo had staged.

Without missing a beat, Selene lunged forward, catching Matra around the waist, keeping her sister from crashing through all of the surveillance kit Leo packed in.

“Are you alright?” Selene asked, pulling Matra up to her feet and looking her over for any injuries.

Her breakdown began as a sniffle, the tiniest thing that one would barely notice. But just as the first drops of rain augur an oncoming storm, her microscopic snuffle forecasted the floods from decades of overwhelming comparison. The malignant sores of a condemnation of weighted justifications pouring out, ready to be arbitrated by the reason for knives to be driven into the soul of a lost little sister.

“Spirits, dammit, no…” Matra cried into Selene’s shoulder. “Why? Why is it always you? Why do they make me come out here?”

“What?” Selene raised a brow, confusion evident in her scrunched brow; yet, despite being confused, she still pulled her sister closer, hugging her, offering whatever comfort she could. “Why is what me?”

“Dammit, you still don’t get it. It’s you. It’s always you. Dad and Mom both want to see you do well. They only care about you.”

“Huh? But they always sent you to take my boyfriends; they wanted you close. Doesn’t mom want you to lead the pack?”

Leo cringed as Matra hit Selene with a hammer fist so weak it would not even move him. He, thick as a brick and about as eloquent as a hammer, could still see what was going on. This was not his place to comment, but he did know that when familial stakes boiled over, violence may follow. As such, he moved to the side of them, settling atop a hardcase, ready to hopefully keep them from ripping one another apart—all he could do was hope words and tears were the only thing about to be exchanged.

If it came to blows, he could not stop Matra and Selene. Attempting to do so would be akin to tossing a frog in a blender.

“No, you idiot. They want you for all that,” Matra cried into the crook of Selene’s neck. “I’m just useful to them.”

“No no no no. You're you,” Selene assured. “You were always the better hunter, the better daughter. I just kept running off.”

“You’re not listening!” Matra snapped, pulling back from Selene and staring her eye to eye, tears flowing freely down her flushed cheeks. “I was the one assigned to do what they wanted, but it was and is always about you. Get her. See if her boyfriend would want you. Even now, they sent me on this trip to watch you and Leo. ”

“You, they let you go off and be a warrior. The rest of us just have to sit there and watch you get to be what you want to.” She jabbed an accusatory finger at Leo when she finished the sentence.

“I…I…” Selene began, unsure of what to say, but that was no matter, Matra was not done.

“I am tired of it. I wanted to be like you. But you…you kept vanishing, or telling me to stay home when I tried to follow. Do you have any idea what it’s like? How lonely it was? I wanted to go off on an adventure with my big sister and you always told me no?”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Selene replied, wiping the tears from Matra’s face. “Not delving into dirt, getting in danger.”

“Then let me come with you. Let me do something I want to do for once in my life.”

Selene looked to Leo, silently pleading for him to give her an answer. The look of desperation in her eyes was one Leo never expected from Selene. She was always so happy. Yeah her family was a sore spot and he knew it, but that despite all they had done she still just wanted to make sure her little sister was happy spoke bounds about Selene as a person.

She certainly was a better person than Leo was. If it was only up to him, and he did not have to consider her feelings on the matter, he would stand strong on his stance that Matra should stay with the kids.

“Alright, Matra, you can come along,” Leo sighed, kneeling beside the pair. “But that does mean we won’t be leaving until the wolf-kin get here.”

Her demeanor did not change in an instant, an act that was very welcome to Leo. She wasn’t acting to just get her way. “So what is the plan?”

“Wait for Lesh to get here, and in the meantime, I have to get you armored up and something bigger than that pea shooter,” Leo replied, gesturing toward the Glock hanging loosely off an improperly worn belt holster.

“Well, wait no longer, warrior, for I have arrived,” Lesh's voice rumbled from all around, shaking the floating island and all its inhabitants to the very core of their souls.

The ground split, not like a fissure, despite the earthquake rolling through the island, no, it was a dark, pustulous slash through the dirt. The trees died, flowers wilted, and small animals scurried away as Lesh’s emergence cut across the hillside. Blackish green tar bleeding from the fresh wound.

The trio stepped back from the foul liquid, gagging from the horrible scent of death and rot. Once a few feet from the edge of the event horizon, they watched as Lesh made his overly dramatic entrance.

Crackling lightning shot into the sky, as a dark figure of shadow grew from the goo. The skull formed, followed by each part of his visage, solidifying in sudden bursts. With each mote of light, the liquid crystalized and formed his gangly limbs.

After nearly half a minute, Lesh’s cloak crawled up his body from the pit, draping itself across his body, leaving all that he was save for the dark white skull and ever-shifting antlers hidden beneath the draping fabric.

“Could you be more over the top?” Leo asked as Lesh waved a hand dismissing all the darkness of his summoning.

“I would have preferred to arrive like the terminator, but that is not possible if you wish to have survived. Alternatively If you truly wish for me to showboat more, I could have caused a volcanic eruption,” Lesh replied, turning his hand over and letting dribbles of fire fall to the ground, setting the now dead grass alight.

“Let’s not do that. And put that out, Lesh,” Leo pointed at the fire and ignored Lesh once again having this odd obsession with eighties pop culture.

Lesh stepped forward with his bony, root foot, stomping on the flames, extinguishing them with a bitter hiss. He looked about the area, licking his chops, seeing how the kids were hiding behind one another, cowering from him.

Even Matra and Selene were silent, keeping their eyes averted from the ancient pseudo-god. Lesh let out a low lumbering growl, feral, hungry. He stopped when Leo—the only one not affected by the dark being's presence— put his foot down.

“Lesh, what did Elowin and Miri tell you about what is going on?”

The ancient being turned his attention to the Ranger. Leo was not sure how he could tell; maybe it was the presence and how Lesh stood, or it might have been something to do with how the winds shifted around the creature, but he could have sworn Lesh was smiling. He was happy, the same way a cat was happy to see a particularly juicy mouse.

“Ah, you are so refreshing to see, Ranger. You are always full of surprises.”

“I’m glad you are entertained, but I don’t have time for this, so just answer the question,” Leo crossed his arms and stared at Lesh damn near like an equal.

“I heard enough. Some of your charges have gone missing, and through means, the wolf-kin and other juvenile creations cannot follow. So you wished for my aid in locating them. Is that correct, or have I been misinformed?”

“No, you heard right. So are you willing to help us out?” Leo asked.

“Would I have come if I intended to refuse?”

“Good.” Leo extracted an extra radio from his dump pouch and held it out for Lesh. “Use this and press this button here to let me know whenever you find any sign of them.”

With curiosity, Lesh took the radio, pressed the button, and heard the radio mic on Leo’s shoulder squelch. He did this a few times before looking almost offended at the device.

“This told you nothing. Is your artifact faulty?”

“Speak into it while pressing the button.” Leo rolled his eyes.

After a few moments of testing out the radio, Lesh nodded and affixed it to his chest with vines growing from his shoulders, holding it in a sort of bag-like growth. “Worry not warrior, I will find them.” He said while turning toward the distance.

“You won’t hurt them, right?” Selene asked.

Lesh froze when Selene addressed him, and with the sounds of cracking wood, his head turned entirely around in an instant Causing her body to tense, like she expected an attack, but his answer oddly put her mind at ease. “No harm will come to your ilk. Those that took them, however…I will enjoy rooting out more mice from my larder.”

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I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. We get more of lesh today and another chapter featuring the man/thing

-Colin Graves

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First

A branch slapped Matra across the face, and she continued to struggle to keep pace with both Leo and Selene. Despite pumping her body full of all the mana she could before sickness would send her into fits of vomiting, she was still losing sight of both of them.

Each time she leaped over a tree or scrambled beneath a downed log, they kept getting further and further away.

She wanted to blame it on the armor Leo gave her, how awkward carrying this rifle…she thinks that’s what he called it, but even a pup would be able to tell that was not the truth of the matter.

Selene was simply far more precise and practiced in mana control. If Matra even attempted to siphon a tenth of what her older sister could, she would be bedridden for a week.

Leo was the thing she couldn't make sense of . He was supposed to just be a human. Right? Yet he kept vanishing. Gaining ground. He moved like a veteran hunter stalking a rauxon. Leo was as swift as the wind and as enduring as sunlight.

Just as those young hunters sought to jockey around the flaming horns of those twenty-foot-high stags, he shifted, flexed, and deftly maneuvered, as if any hindrance would spell the death of the hunt.

Following her nose was the only way she could track them. After having lost them for nearly half an hour, Matra burst forth from the thicket and found them waiting for her. Well, Selene was waiting. Leo was listening to his radio.

“Roger that, Hatchet Actual out,” Leo said into his microphone, before immediately slinging down the battle board attached to his plate carrier's front and moving the map around with a stylus.

“Are you alright?” Selene asked Matra, pulling her back to her feet.

“I will be,” Matra wheezed, pulling a canteen off her belt and starting to drink. The ice-cold water soothed her burning throat and washed away the copper taste lingering on her tongue .

“Don’t drink too much,” Selene said, gently pushing the canteen away. “You will throw up or get cramps.”

“But…I’m so…thirsty..”

“I know, but just take sips.”

Matra did not argue with her older sister. She slowed down and only sipped at the water. The slowed pace and the rest helped her. It did not take long before she was nearly back up to full and almost ready to move again.

“What is his deal?” Matra asked, inclining her head toward Leo, who was still tapping at his battle board and radioing to countless wolf-kin. Including who she swore was her father, but the radio distortion made it impossible to be sure.

“What do you mean?” Selene tilted her head.

“Is he really human?”

Selene returned her gaze to Leo, her tail wagging faster and a smile stretching across her face. “As far as I know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Vic swears he is a human.”

“What would that Skinner know? He doesn’t even know what he is,” Matra spat, cursing the man.

“That is just mean. Vic took us out into town all the time as kids. You and I both know he is a good man," Selene chastised.

“As a different person each time.”

The older sister shook her head and sighed. This argument came up frequently enough for Selene to know that pressing this issue was pointless. Matra just could not trust changlings. Something about them being able to shift form unsettled Matra as she got older.

“But yes. I am sure Leo is a human.” Selene said, shifting the topic back to Leo.

“Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Selene replied.

Leo slapped his battle board shut, and stood walking around and gathering various objects around the area. At first, Selene and Matra were unsure what he was doing, that was until he cleared an area with his foot and began to arrange the pinecones, sticks, and rocks with painful precision.

“You two, get over here,” Leo said, taking his hand and making small piles of dirt within his little display.

“What for?” Matra groaned while complying with the near order.

“Lesh’s little root monsters have found the kids. We have a location. Time to ruin someone’s day.”

“Ok, but what is this all for?” Matra asked, gesturing at the sand table.

“It’s time to make a plan.”

“Are we not just going to charge in? Dad always said he did that.”

Selene and Leo shared a glance, not one of hatred, but of pity. They knew the horrible, meat-churning reality they would be facing. Matra…was about to learn the hard way.

“No. Think about it,” Leo began pointing to his temple. “You and I can fight at a distance. Selene has to get in close. We have to support her and keep each other covered. Savvy?”

“Savvy?” Matra tilted her head.

“Do you understand?” Selene elaborated.

Leo and Selene looked at her, waiting. The few seconds felt like an eternity. She had never yet been tried in such a manner. The worst scrutiny she had thus far faced was whether she knew who Selene's latest boy toy was…not if she comprehended the rough idea of a battle.

“I think,” Matra swallowed.

—--

“Come on, let’s go kill those commies,” boasted one of the wolf-kin warriors Leo and company had linked up with.

“Vinya, we went over this. They aren’t commies. They are ruskies,” Hoya replied, smacking his cousin on the back with the haft of his spear, nearly sending Vinya stumbling out of the thicket and into the open.

They started bickering shortly after, each attempting to make the argument of which moniker should be used for the demons and why. Each tried to justify their position based on which movie they preferred and on the merits of the protagonist and the enemies.

Rocky for one. Vinya preferred that one, believing that Drago was the ultimate ruskie and wanted nothing more than to have a chance to battle such a foe. That due to his mana control and physiology, the brawl would be about as exciting as Mike Tyson fighting an infant was not mentioned by anyone.

Hoya, on the other hand, absolutely was convinced that now that he and several of his cousins were going out to fight with Leo, they were about to become The Wolverines. He must love the movie, because he even had a coon skin hat and a letterman’s jacket on.

Whatever the reason for their disagreement, it did not matter to Leo or anyone more experienced in fighting in the current ragtag squad of warriors---namely, Selene. The only thing that mattered was them knuckling down, shutting the fuck up, and getting their head in the game.

Selene looked back and was about to snap at the pair, telling them to be quiet, but as her eyes locked onto them, Leo ghosted up behind them. Neither of the pair noticed the man until it was far too late. Leo did not attempt to overpower either; he knew better than to try.

As if the forest itself had grown to seize one for daring to violate the serenity of the boughs, Leo wrapped his hand around Vinya’s mouth and whispered subvocally to him. “You talk too much.”

All of the wolf-kin warriors gawked, at long last noticing the man they had last seen scouting ahead of them had somehow stalked around, gotten behind them, and could have killed any of them. Without any threat or further reminder that Leo had told them all to be quiet when they had set off several hours earlier, he let Vinya go and skulked forward.

“Wait here, keep silent. The enemy is just ahead,” Leo said as he reached Selene’s side. He tapped her shoulder and gestured for her and Matra to follow him. “You two, on me.”

Like a group of stalking wolves, silent, predatory, and focused, they moved, easing forward through the woods. Their presence did not run afoul of the will of the woods; though they carried weapons and the will to destroy, the spirits of the woods blessed them, filled them with assurance, and concealed their movements from the foul beings it wished destroyed as much as they.

Assisting one another, they clambered up and into the trees, gaining a vantage point on the location Lesh had directed them toward. A lone cave, one that even the ancient being admitted was a part of the myriad of things he had forgotten about. The way Lesh spoke of the cave was odd, something that even through the uncaring radio came across loud and clear.

Lesh spoke of the cave as if he were trying to describe a crystal wine glass to a blind person. He could vaguely recall the shape, but could not truly convey it to someone through words alone. It was likely one of the many things the ancient being had forgotten almost in its entirety.

Elowin had warned Leo and the others about that quirk of his. Lesh truly had forgotten more than they had ever known. A thought that unsettled Leo. He could not fathom an existence where you had forgotten enough information to recreate the library of Alexandria ten times over and then some.

Across the draw between them and the cave, little was visible. They could barely see the structure itself within the far hillside through the thick ever-shifting leaves. The cave mouth was nothing but a wound in the hillside, a darkness so complete it seemed to drink the surrounding light. It was barely visible, but it was there, an endless dark breaking up the endless swaths of green, beckoning them to join eternal entropy.

“Lesh, what makes you think this is the place?” Leo asked into the microphone.

“It is not a matter of knowing it is there. Many locations within my bounds could serve the enemy well. But that is one of the locations I believe it might be.” Lesh explained.

“Wait, did you just send us here on a hunch? I thought you said you knew?”

“No, warrior. I said I know how to find them. Where you are, there is a great rift in the flow of mana. It is like there is a void, a place where it does not exist. It likely is affecting even the shrubbery adjacent to you.”

They looked around, paying close attention to the leaves and plants, and confirmed that toward the cave, the plants were not quite dead but were clearly drooping.

“I merely sent you and groups of those other juvenile races to locations where we likely would encounter the enemy. I myself am even attacking a location as we speak.”

“Just fucking great,” Leo muttered under his breath, having regretted not listening to Elowin's advice to be very considerate of what Lesh does.

A gentle touch rested on his shoulder, “It will be alright,” Selene assured.

“Alright. We will check this location and keep you posted. Hatchet Act out.”

“Do you two see or hear anything?” Leo asked. Matra had spent the duration of that conversation using the thermal goggles to scan ahead, while Selene used her Mark-1 eyeballs; if anything was visible, they would have seen it.

“Nothing,” Matra replied. “But something definitely is strange. It’s like...I don’t know, we are being watched.”

“I got that feeling too.” Leo looked beside him at Selene. She nodded, confirming that she had the same sinking feeling.

It was a feeling similar to what Leo had felt the other night. There was electricity in the air. One that bleeds into existence with the faint scent of ozone. It was a feeling similar to that in moments before an ambush. Leo hoped it was just some magic fuckery; but all experience pointed to otherwise.

“Alright, Selene, go back for the other wolf-kin, move up the gulley from the right. Matra and I will keep watch from that ridge,” Leo said, pointing toward a rock, barely visible from their concealed position. “Radio in once you are in the gulley.”

“Can do,” Selene nodded before rolling back off the branch and gracefully landing on the forest floor without a sound.

Slowly, Leo and Matra moved down the tree. Stealthily, they moved, only a few feet at a time, before they stopped, looked, listened, and repeated. With how little they knew about what took the kids, or how it managed to do so, they were both on a razor's edge.

Each time they stopped, Leo had to press the muzzle of Matra’s rifle away from pointing at his grape. She was lucky he was the only one who had trained her, and that the wolf-kin in all regards lacked a genuine understanding of how deadly human tools were. Sure, they understood it could kill. But their information came from bad eighties movies.

He reiterated that they should never flag him each time before they continued. If she were not an amateur, she might have stopped, but with her lack of experience, Matra just kept defaulting to holding the rifle comfortably. That just so happened to have his head at the muzzle.

He swapped sides with her at the halfway point. She was unpredictable enough; mitigating the risk of having his brains blown out was the best he could do for the moment.

They spotted nothing as they moved closer, until they lay prone on the rocks, setting up with a clear line of sight to the cave entrance and several game paths leading toward it.

“Alright, Selene. We are in position. Go ahead and move in,” Leo radioed, trying to ignore the paranoia growing in his mind. Something was not right. He could feel it in the deepest pits of his instincts.

The same voice from eons of ancestry that told him Elowin could be trusted implicitly was currently a live wire, powering his jittering leg.

“Understood.”

Through their scopes, they watched as the armored line of wolf-kin gradually moved. Their armor clinked silently as their primitive weapons poked in all directions like a porcupine. Ancient warfare was their element. They naturally moved and knew how each other would traverse around them.

The four-man element, with Selene at the front, kept up a steady pace until they neared the turn to ascend the hill toward the cave; at that point, they slowed.

Leo was glued to his binoculars, focusing so heavily that he could not calm his heart. As he glassed from the far ridge to the gully for the tenth time, a second niggling feeling crawled up his leg.

A warmth flowed from his trouser pocket. Without thinking, Leo reached into the pocket and touched the object. It was something he was not sure he had brought. Hell, he had been carrying it daily since Elowin gave it to him. The only time he did not have it on him was when he bathed. Leaving it behind just felt wrong… like he was leaving a part of his very being.

That little rock.

It was like something…or someone was trying to speak to him through the stone. He could almost hear whispers on the wind, warning him of something. He focused on the sounds but could not make heads or tails of them, yet it made him feel something. Warmth? Assured? Protected? He was not sure. But it was a feeling he could tell was filled with raw goodness.

Shifting back and taking up his rifle, Leo scoped back in, feeling slightly invigorated. As his crosshairs landed on the cave, he noticed something shift. Well, not really shift, it shimmered, moved like a mirage of heat.

The mirage skulked along the ground, slowly moving toward the wolf-kin, working their way up the hill just below it.

Leo sighted in on it, just in time for two things to happen: A pair of green eyes to appear within the haze, and for Hoya’s head to go flying as a thin razor of light ripped it off from the jaw down.

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Enough happiness, time for fighting!!!

-Colin

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Because I might have done exactly that.

Chapter 3: The Law Of The Road

The road was a dirt track with ambitions—hence the name: The Drakeroad.

 

Wagon ruts carved deep by centuries of wheels, filled with mud that sucked at the horses' hooves with every step. I sat on a sack of grain in the back of the merchant's cart, bouncing on every rut like the sacks themselves.

 

The fat, red-faced merchant talked too much. But he had a wagon and was heading to my destination. So I made him feel like my favorite person in this world.

 

Forests pressed close on both sides of the road. Thick, dark, no hiking trails or park rangers. Real wilderness. The things that lived out there could eat you.

 

Real deal.

 

"Bandits have been hitting the trade road more and more," the merchant said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Used to be safe. Now? Not so much. Iron's worth blood now, lady. Literal blood." He winked as a horsefly bit him on the neck. He smashed it with the palm of his hand.

 

I couldn't help but smirk. No insects for me.

 

Another useful spell in A Lady's Companion to the Arts of Flesh and Bloom was Vermin's Last Favorite. A cantrip that worked a bit like a first-circle Shield spell.

 

Well, not exactly a shield from insects—more of a redirection of their appetite. As long as there was any other living creature next to me, flies, mosquitoes, bedbugs, lice, fleas—they'd prefer it. Him or her instead of me.

 

Horseflies preferred the merchant now.

 

By late afternoon, the trees thinned. Then a roof appeared above the treeline.

 

"That's the place," the merchant announced. "The Kindly Rest."

 

The most prominent building around this shithole—I mean, 'hamlet'—was a stone keep which housed the titular inn. This establishment was apparently a popular stop for people traveling on the Daggershore Road.

 

Daggershore—the region I was in, as I'd learned some time ago.

 

Apart from the inn, a wall surrounded a temple, a handful of houses, stables, and an accompanying horse pond.

 

A temple in the fantasy-world sense. The merchant explained that there was actually some witch-doctor—presumably a real magical practitioner—who could heal.

 

Not for free, though. It was a business, after all.

 

A sign hung above the door, painted with a faded pictogram of a tankard. Most common people in this world were probably illiterate, so signs with written words wouldn't make much sense, I supposed.

 

I hopped off the cart before it fully stopped. My legs ached. My ass ached. My everything ached.

 

But I was here.

 

Got inside the inn. Smoke, noise, the stale greasy warmth of too many bodies in a stone room.

 

Getting my clothes soaked by tobacco smoke—or whatever passed for tobacco here—wasn't fun for a lady. But then, when you're lacking every basic hygiene product, reeking of this instead of sweat, rot, or piss was probably better. I suppose.

 

I scanned the room.

 

Merchants at two tables near the hearth, their escorts clustered nearby—armed, drinking, not mixing with the locals. A handful of hamlet folk.

 

Then some types in the far corner who carried themselves like they'd killed things for money and would again tomorrow.

 

I'm not saying that was a fact—couldn't verify it, and it's not like I'm speaking from experience walking into fantasy taverns. Just speaking from the experience of being alive for over three decades and having seen some shit. People who want to look a certain way look that way. Simple as.

 

They could be adventurers—they could be cutthroats—hell, they could be one and the same.

 

Hotel lobby. That's what this was. Some generic chain near a major airport, the kind where businessmen in cheap suits drink overpriced beer while waiting for delayed flights. Except here the flights were caravans and the suits were armor.

 

Without being humble, I could fairly assume that even after months of luxury deprivation at Wickhold Keep, I was probably still the hottest specimen these guys had ever seen.

 

I was never humble, by the way.

 

I did what I could with my own hands and wits, with some help from my favorite title, A Lady's Companion, again. My hair was done up as well as I could manage after hours on the road. Robes open enough to give a decent preview of the cleavage, belt tightened to emphasize the round ass.

 

So. Considering my limited resources, I was dressed to kill.

The bartender was busy with men at the bar. But damn sure he noticed me the moment I entered. That was his job.

 

He was a big guy. A hot barista type.

 

How do guys in this world even get hot like that? Seriously. Even brushing your teeth was a challenge—I knew because I'd done it every day since I ended up in this world. And yet the scribes I fucked, this guy—they still managed to be hot.

 

A bit too hairy, but hot nevertheless.

 

He was too hot to be just a bartender here. The way he carried himself, scanning the place like he owned it. He probably actually did. I'd heard the owner of this place had been some adventurer himself back in the day. Apparently this was some "evil-doer" den he and his party had rescued.

 

That's some Western shit, but I dig it. Wouldn't mind "rescuing" a vital establishment for myself that way.

 

The guy had a sexy snow-white, decently trimmed beard and mustache. Damn, he was giving silver fox vibes.

 

Going by Earth logic, I'd say he was a fit, lean sixty-ish, maybe even sixty-plus. But hey, this was a medieval-ish world. He could be my age.

 

I walked over and addressed the guys gatekeeping access to the bar with their bulky frames.

 

"May I squeeze in?" I chirped in my heavily accented local—yes, it was actually called "Common." Couldn't be any other way, could it?

 

The one on the left turned. Eyes went straight to my face, then south, then back up so fast he nearly pulled a muscle. His drink stopped halfway to his mouth.

 

His buddy was less subtle. Leaned back on his stool, looked me up and down like he was appraising livestock at auction. Slow. Thorough. Grinning the whole time.

 

A perfectly normal reaction, I'd expect. To be honest, the one I deserved after all the hard work I'd put into my look.

 

"Buy you a drink, love?" he said.

 

I let the corner of my mouth curl up.

 

"And what do you think I should drink, handsome?" I lied. As good a time as any to start building tolerance for whatever passed for a buzz in this world.

 

The first one laughed—loud, eager. His buddy stayed cool. Held up two fingers to the bartender without looking away from me.

 

The bartender chuckled.

 

"Someone's gonna pay for that," he promised, and pulled a bottle of something different from what those two had been drinking.

 

Which showed promise, since I really didn't fancy drinking something that smelled like urine.

 

I was kinky, but I had limits.

 

He poured me a glass of deep red liquid. Decent wine—I could smell it before the glass even touched my lips.

 

"Where you from, beautiful?" my sponsor pressed, smiling.

 

"Far away, no doubt," the bartender added in passing.

 

"You wouldn't believe me," I said, touching the glass to my lips and taking a sip.

 

That was actually more than decent wine.

 

"Wouldn't have lived this long if I believed every word from a beautiful woman's mouth," the bartender responded, polishing a tankard with a cloth.

 

"Need a travel companion?" asked my sponsor.

 

I smiled.

 

"And where would you like to travel?"

 

He grinned.

 

"Got a room upstairs. What do you think?"

 

I laughed.

 

"Good sir, I just arrived, and you're already asking if I'm up for an all-night ride?"

 

Now his friend laughed.

 

"I think you came on a little strong with that one."

 

"That's gonna be one gold," the bartender said simply to my sponsor. The other man choked on his drink with laughter.

 

I'd already figured out the local economy enough to know that was well above average for a drink—expensive territory, especially for a bloke who'd probably gushed himself in some one-silver or couple-coppers-worth ale.

 

Well. Me, myself, and I had no money. But I also wasn't about to fuck a guy for a drink. Not this guy, not his friend. So I decided this was a good time to flex some magic.

 

I slid my hand into my pocket to touch some phosphorescent moss I always kept there. I was about to cast Light—I could've used fireflies instead of moss, but I wasn't big on bugs, especially touching them!

 

I cast this spell damn near every day. It was that useful in a world without electricity. I wasn't about to kill my eyes and lungs with candlelight and smoke—fuck no.

 

Because of that, I was pretty proficient at pulling this trick off. A flawless gesture and a quick incantation, and my glass lit up with a glow colored red by the wine inside.

 

"Worth it," I said in passing, like I was just commenting on the drink price.

 

My sponsor's hand froze halfway to his ale. His buddy straightened on his stool.

 

The guy's eyes went from my chest to the glass to my face. Back to the glass. Processing.

 

He reached into his pouch. Dropped the gold on the bar without a word. His hand stayed on the bar after—not getting accidentally touchy-touchy this time. The perimeter had been redrawn.

 

His buddy picked up his own drink. Took a long pull. Eyes forward now, not on me.

 

The bartender chuckled and collected the coin. The tankard he'd been polishing went back on the shelf.

 

"That was a nice flex," he commented, picking up another. Started wiping. Watching me in the reflection of the glass behind the bar.

 

I took a sip.

 

The other guy finished his ale and slammed the tankard on the bar. Dropped a few coppers as well. He put a hand on my benefactor's shoulder.

 

"I've had enough. Marsh, see you tomorrow." He excused himself.

 

Marsh stayed until he finished his drink—he needed to save face. Then he fucked off too. I didn't object, since I had no use for that face. Not to look at, not even to sit on.

 

When he was gone, the bartender sighed.

 

"Poor sods."

 

I raised my glowing glass.

 

"Not that poor," I pointed out.

 

He laughed.

 

"The ladies they can afford don't look like you," he said calmly, then added, "ma'am."

 

Was this motherfucker calling me a whore? Regardless, I put on a feigned, sanctimonious, outraged face.

 

He didn't budge.

 

Cocky.

 

I took a sip. He smiled.

 

"Yeah, no point rushing it, I suppose," he teased. "Not until someone's paying for another drink."

 

I raised an eyebrow.

 

"You think I can't pay for my drinks?"

 

He chuckled.

 

I finished my wine.

 

"I'm sure you can pay. But is it gold?" He raised an eyebrow too.

 

"Would you prefer another gold coin, if you could choose?"

 

He refilled my glowing glass.

 

"So…" he started casually, in passing. "You into the iron crisis?"

 

"In a sense," I answered, taking a sip.

 

"Been in the adventuring trade myself. But you already knew that," he said, working with glasses. I didn't know it—I'd deduced it. The inn was supposedly run by an ex-adventurer, and he was behind the bar looking like he owned it.

 

"Obviously," I said.

 

"Met some folk from the Sunrise Lands before. You're really far from home."

 

I'd read that term during my time at the Keep. It was the equivalent of "here be dragons" for the eastern part of the known world map.

 

"Map" was doing some heavy lifting there. These weren't actual blueprints—filled with symbolism and nonsense, scale totally off.

 

"Anyway, you're in luck," he continued. "There's a group arriving in a day or two. Decent souls," he explained.

 

I sipped my drink.

 

"That's a long time," I said. "You want me to burn money in your place, don't you?" I asked. Of course, I had no money of my own to burn—something he might or might not have known.

 

"Don't worry about it," he said.

 

"I'm not worried," I smiled.

 

He chuckled.

 

So the bartender was in fact the owner of this place—and by this place, I meant the whole Kindly Rest hamlet.

 

Garreth Vane was his name.

 

And he was a great fuck.

 

After the first night I could still chalk it up to being sensory deprived after months of playing with nerdy scribes who I had to teach everything and take the lead in everything. So when I was actually, for once, really taken, I could say it was just a body response.

 

So I fucked him a second night too.

 

He didn't disappoint.

 

Garreth was a yummy piece of meat—on the older side but still manly and bulky. He hobbled, thanks to some nasty injury that forced him to retire from adventuring, but he was no cripple.

 

Not at all.

 

He manhandled me and carried me in his arms like I was nothing—fucking me against the wall or in midair.

 

He was on the average side in the dick department, but he damn well knew how to use his tool. He fucked like a pro—playing with my tits, thumb in, all that good stuff.

 

And he knew how to eat pussy.

 

Somewhere between the first and second night in his bed, I had one of the best fucks of both my lives.

 

My silver fox was a true gentleman—always pulling out.

 

I took some other measures, following advice from A Lady's Companion. But after months spent with horny, selfish scribes, it was refreshing to have a mature partner.

 

So I rewarded my silver hunk with tit jobs and head, finishing with messy facials.

 

"You sure you're not a working girl?" he asked as I rested my head on his sweaty, hairy chest.

 

"Don't be an asshole, darling," I purred and bit his nipple. He laughed and slapped my ass. I huffed and put up minimal resistance as he manhandled me and fucked me doggy one last time.

 

The day after that night, the group Garreth mentioned arrived.

 

"Group" was generous. It was a pair. Two young women.

 

Armed women with real swords and gear. The blonde one walked like she owned whatever room she entered.

 

The other…

 

Pointed ears.

 

Not costume. Not prosthetics. Actual, real, slightly swept ears poking through copper hair.

 

I knew from the books and conversations at the Keep that this world had inhuman fantasy races like dwarves and elves, but seeing one was something else entirely. I tried not to stare.

 

Was she an elf or a half-elf?

 

"Hi, dad," the blonde said.

 

Dad.

 

Garreth smiled and looked at me. "Yuna, these are the adventurers I told you about—Vashira," he nodded at the blonde, then to the other, "and Corinne."

 

So she was half-elf. Garreth dipped his dick in nonhuman pussy. Of course he did.

 

"Oh, I'm sure 'talking' wasn't all you did," Vashira said mockingly.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, girl," Garreth lied.

 

He was shit at lying.

 

"Father…" the half-elf started carefully. "Your neck is covered in lovebites. Like… from last night."

 

Garreth bit his lip.

 

"Oh? That's bedbugs," he lied again, then shrugged. "Anyway—stop it, will you? Yuna is a magic user looking to join a fair group. I vouched for you."

 

"I'm sure you did, dad," Vashira rolled her eyes, but then focused on me and inclined her head in a nod.

 

"It is our pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Yuna," her half-elf sister said politely.

 

"Likewise," I nodded back, then looked at Garreth.

 

"So… pulling out wasn't always the case," I smirked.

 

Garreth cleared his throat.

 

"Oh, can you spare me the details?!" Vashira snarled with more annoyance than actual anger. She apparently knew her father well.

 

They both did.

 

"My sister is not wrong," Corinne looked at me calmly, then half-smiled at Garreth. "However, father, I'm relieved that you at least made an effort. I love my sister, but I'd rather not raise another sibling. Again…"

 

Sweet. There were some serious daddy issues here.

 

Marvelous.

 

I looked at them. They both looked about twenty-ish, but Corinne was apparently old enough to look after Vashira—probably due to some elven blood longevity. The half-elf could be my age or even older.

 

"Don't you worry," I said to them, and rolled my eyes hearing Garreth breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Asshole.

 

We moved out the same day.

 

Riding double was an education in suffering.

 

On the second day, my thighs screamed. My ass ached worse than the cart ride to the Kindly Rest. Every goddamn trot step sent a jolt through muscles I didn't know existed.

 

Vashira was behind me now—her turn to share a saddle. I'd been on Corinne's horse that morning, switching at midday to keep the animals fresh.

 

"You really can't ride," Vashira said.

 

We'd started talking today. The first day had been awkward—nothing but business, negotiating how we could help each other. Me being able to cast Light was already a dealmaker.

 

I wasn't thrilled. I knew what that meant—dungeons.

 

Well, we were going to the mines, so there was no other way, I suppose.

 

"Where I'm from, women of my station didn't ride," I said. "Carts, sedan chairs, carriages. Horses were for soldiers and messengers." I bullshitted my answer.

 

Corinne, riding alongside, tilted her head. "Truly? In all the Sunrise Lands?"

 

I pretended to look surprised. "Is it not like that here?"

 

They exchanged a look. Vashira shrugged.

 

"Fair enough."

 

I focused on not falling off.

 

"So," I said. "You're half-sisters. Care to share that story?"

 

"You met our father…" Corinne chuckled, then continued. "My mother was a young elf back then—well, a bit younger than now, I suppose," she clarified. "Father couldn't have been more than twenty, I think. They traveled together, and she was his Road Wife, so he kept collecting what he was entitled to take. And kept doing that… until I came along."

 

That made sense.

 

"He and my mother traveled for a few years, then he provided for me and her. When I was six or seven, she left—went back to her people."

 

Corinne said that like it was the most normal thing in the world. If I read the situation right—and I probably did—a halfbreed like her wasn't welcome among elves, and her mother was considered young even now.

 

But I still felt like I was missing something, so I pressed further.

 

"So she left Garreth and you?"

 

"She didn't leave. I mean… she just stopped adventuring with father. Went back to her people."

 

"Road marriage terminated. Simple as that," Vashira explained, then continued. "My mom was adventuring with dad when Corinne was already like…" she gave her sister a questioning look "Dunno, twenty?"

 

"I think I was just eighteen when she joined us. You were born a year and a half later."

 

"Yeah," Vashira nodded. "I remember Mom from when I was little. She died adventuring. Corinne looked after me since. Dad is… well," she chuckled, "not parent material."

 

"So… he never married since?" I asked.

 

"What? No—dad's a lawful guy, great adventurer. He married every woman in his party, every time," Vashira stated from behind me with some pride.

 

I was really missing something here.

 

"Wait, like… every single one? What if there's more than one woman in the party?"

 

"What about it?" she asked, confused. I looked at Corinne riding next to us, who was already giving me a confused look.

 

"Your father was married to multiple women at the same time?"

 

"He's an adventurer."

 

"So?"

 

"What do you mean, 'so'? He was married under the Law of the Road. I'm confused, Yuna," Vashira said honestly.

 

"Me too," Corinne added.

 

I was confused as fuck myself, so I asked:

 

"Never heard of this Law of the Road. Is it some local thing?" I turned on the horseback to look Vashira in the face, then at Corinne too.

 

They were dumbstruck.

 

"The Law of the Road," Vashira said slowly. "You don't have that where you're from?"

 

"No."

 

Corinne pulled her horse closer. "We assumed it was universal. Known everywhere adventurers travel."

 

"It isn't where I'm from."

 

Vashira exhaled through her nose. "Alright. The Law of the Road is how adventuring parties handle… relationships. A man and a woman—or a man and more than one woman—bond on the road. He's her Road Husband. She's his Road Wife. It gives her standing. Protection. Legitimacy. If she gets pregnant, the child is recognized as legitimate. Born in wedlock."

 

Okay.

 

Okay…

 

What the actual fuck?!

 

"He had obligations," Vashira continued. "Provision, protection, child support if it came to that. Couldn't abandon a Road Wife while she was pregnant—hardest rule there is. Break it, and you're an infamous—an oathbreaker. Social death. No guild contracts, no tavern service, no one parties with you. Your name is poison."

 

Okay. At least that. It made some sense. This was a pretty standard patriarchal, Dark Ages-style world, and women who took up adventuring were on the hook. That was actually kinda neat, in a way.

 

"And the ladies?" I asked.

 

"Fidelity," Corinne said. "Operational loyalty. Don't betray the party, don't take a second Road Husband behind his back. Don't desert him in the field."

 

Okay, so this was some fucking harem heaven for manchild fuckboy dickheads. This was where my "guardian" asshole angel dumped me.

 

Great.

 

Fucking great!

 

After a short rest, I was on Corinne's horse again.

 

We were still discussing the Law of the Road.

 

I was flabbergasted that I'd completely missed this in my readings at the Keep.

 

No—I didn't miss it. It was just never mentioned, not even in passing. Not because it wasn't important, but because it was so fundamental it went without saying. Like breathing.

 

It was like that… what did they call it in that Netflix show my boss watched on the bedroom projector after we fucked? The Law of Surprise. Something that passed as common knowledge for all inhabitants of the world.

 

That was total fantasy bullshit, of course.

 

But… I was in a fucking fantasy world now.

 

"Road marriage," Vashira was explaining. "It's not permanent like a household marriage. It dissolves—formally, before witnesses. Clean break. Both our mothers were free to."

 

"What if there's only one girl in a party full of guys?" I asked.

 

"Adventuring party has a leader. He takes it upon himself to be the Road Husband," said Corinne.

 

"And the rest? Just not fucking that girl?"

 

"Not if she's not into it. That would be rape, wouldn't it?" Vashira pointed out simply with a shrug. "Who would travel with a party like that?"

 

I processed that.

 

"What if the woman gets knocked up by another guy?"

 

Corinne shrugged.

 

"If a Road Wife gets pregnant, by law the father is her Road Husband."

 

"Yeah," Vashira smirked. "That's the reason you get some half-orc adventurers."

 

"Oh, shut up, little sister!" Corinne scoffed at her.

 

I didn't get the context.

 

Until I got it.

 

Oh fuck…

 

That wasn't such chauvinist dog shit after all. I mean, it was—but it had some actual use. The guy—party leader, merchant employer, mercenary commander, you name it—could have a harem of wives among his group. But if anything pregnancy-related happened to them…

 

Apparently anything.

 

The Road Husband was not only a legal father but also a cover. A way out with a face, without the stigma of shame.

 

And in many cases you never even fucked this guy—especially if you weren't hot or just didn't end up with someone like Garreth Vane.

 

That's what the sisters told me.

 

I was surprised when they said most guys weren't jerks about it. It wasn't a private harem first and foremost—it was a mercenary arrangement. Business. Involving people with weapons who knew how to fight and killed for a living. You didn't want to make enemies of your work colleagues or staff, I suppose.

 

I smirked.

 

I… kind of dug it.

 

Corinne looked at me sideways. "So… how do people where you're from handle it? Women traveling with men, adventuring?"

 

I didn't have a good answer for that. What the fuck should I say? We're civilized?

 

"Where I'm from," I said carefully, "we handle things differently."

 

Vashira chuckled.

 

"Well, here we're civilized.”

Mother Night had kissed the world, casting it all in darkness. The wolf-kin and felinite campfires kept the darkness at bay, standing sentinel against the outer dark.

The kids' tents circled the clearing, each facing inward, with most flaps open. All the felinites and wolf-kin kids were spread about the tables, playing board games by lantern light, or had already decided to go to bed. Laughter drifted between tents while lanterns painted warm pools of gold across the grass.

It had taken them nearly until dark to set up the entire camp and bust out freeze-dried meals for dinner. That many of the kids were eager to turn it was not surprising. Even Leo was feeling the siren call of his bedroll–but for now, he had other things to care about beyond sleep.

Across the table, Malo sat, fingers twitching as his eyes glanced from the board filled with glittering images of the cards each had laid before them.

Malo had a small army of ten riders standing in a swamp of ash and scragged, desiccated trees; across from him, Leo held an army of dozens of cheaper units. Pikemen stood tall, concealed in heavy forests surrounded by emplacements.

Leo smirked. After four straight losses, finally putting Malo on the defensive felt damn good. Was it a bit of luck just because Leo had drawn a scorched earth card and had transformed Malo’s verdant fields card into the all-consuming swamp? Of course it was. But that did not make the nearly assured victory taste any less sweet.

Both only had five cards left, and he was done with wanting Malo to win.

“I put my Carrion Matriarch into the swamp.” Malo declared, putting the card atop the field card Leo had corrupted.

A massive visage grew from the card's face, far larger than any on the board. Wings of black, beak of fettered bone, and a call as vile as a demon loomed over the other cards. It cawed, balefully, marking a fate of death for all those around.

Two of Malo’s riders looked back at the beast and fled, while the others shivered in their boots. Leo’s forces were shaken by the summoning of such a foul creature, all cowering in fear from the monster.

That was an issue as it, mechanics-wise, made his force half what it was, and rendered the battlements moot; however, Leo had just the card to rally his troops around and, at long last, snatch a victory away from the cunning felinite commander.

“I counter with Buralak the Gorganian Paladin,” Leo replied, placing the card atop the stack of his pikeman.

Like a torch flaring into existence, a mighty blazing red grew from the center of the pikemen. Atop a horse of fire, festooned in a hardy full plate of polished orchalicum and adamantine armor, Buralak sat. He raised a grand halberd with one hand toward the great black beast.

As with all the other card illusions, when speaking, the players could not understand the gibberish used to represent speech. But, through magic worming its way into their minds, they felt the effects of Buralak’s speech.

It was as if they were the very soldiers under the command of the paladin---or apposing him.

Defiant against the dark, he would stand. He would never yield nor falter so long as his warriors stood by his side. Rallying abreast the paladin, all the pikemen returned to formation, ready for the approaching onslaught.

With both their deployment turns complete, all they could do was watch the outcome, but both knew what was about to happen. Leo sat tall, while Malo grabbed his head and looked on in despair.

Buralak and the pikemen held fast as the cataphracts rushed in and were quickly cut down to the man. Their blood seeped into the forest ground, staining it a verdant red.

The moment the riders were dead, Buralak rallied his troops. Under the protection of his god, they journeyed forth into the swamps, unaffected by the acidic bog.

With no hesitation, they surrounded and lashed the Carrion Matriarch to the ground with chain and nail. Once she flapped and screamed into the knee-deep water, Buralak watched as his troopers slew the beast. They stabbed at her with relentless resolve until, at long last, she fell silent.

As was designed in the game, Buralak turned his attention to Malo. The kid sat silent as a wave of holy energy passed over him when the representation of Leo’s win destroyed his singular hold by purifying the vile ground.

After a breath, the illusions faded, leaving Leo and Malo sitting across from one another. The kids who had watched the other bouts shouted and cheered for him. Selene hugged him from the side and unabashedly planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Good job!”

“Yeah,” Leo replied as she shook him hard enough to churn butter. He stood up and offered Malo a hand just as he had at the end of the other matches. “Good game, little bud.”

“I will get you next time,” Malo smiled.

“No doubt you will,” Leo smiled back, tousling Malo's hair.

He laughed and fixed his hair while Leo gathered up the decks, being careful to not mix them up. He looked out across the camp, assessing where everyone was, making sure no one was missing. No one was out of place at his glance; all the kids that had already gone to bed still had closed tents, and those who had not left their tents open as Selene had requested earlier.

The only one he saw not as they should be was Matra. She was near one of the fires, and a few of the kids sat around her. She was reading a story for them. It was some kind of picture book, and she had the knee bitters enthralled with her recounting. Her attention, however, was not with them in her entirety.

Between pauses, she would look back at Leo, with an almost imperceptible scowl on her otherwise attractive features. He knew it was because she had seen Selene and him embrace earlier, and now they were no longer shy about openly yearning after the other.

Was it jealousy, or something else? Leo could not say. But he had an inkling it had something more to do with familiar desires than her own heart being torn asunder by unrequited feelings.

“Leo, can I play a round?” Jorda tugged on his shirt.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Leo replied, pressing the kid closer to the table. “But you gotta ask him. They are his cards.”

Jorda folded his ears sheepishly, averting his eyes from Malo for a moment, before drumming up the courage to ask. “Malo..can I play with you?”

“Yeah! Do you know how?”

Jorda shook his head as he took the place that Selene and Leo stepped away from.

“That’s alright,” Malo replied, pulling another of his dozen decks from a bag and handing it across the table.

“Remember, kids, you only have an hour until it’s time for bed,” Selene reminded the kids as they settled in to watch Malo and Jorda.

“Yes, Miss Selene,” the kids replied in near-perfect unison.

They left the kids there to play and enjoy the last few hours of the night. In the meantime, they took the chance to patrol the perimeter and spend a few more minutes alone. Like the smoke drifting off into the endless black of night, the pair faded into the darkness just beyond the firelight.

The moment they were not in sight of the kids, Selene grabbed Leo’s hand, and her tail wrapped around his waist. She led him through the heavy woods, guiding him as to where to step in the wan light. For Selene, there was no difference between high noon and the wolf hour. She could see everything. The torch winks behind leaves, birds slumbering in the boughs, and even the quick darting movements of Leo’s amber-brown eyes.

“I think your sister is finally getting that I am not interested in her.”

“You say that now, but give her time. She is plotting another attempt,” Selene replied, softly guiding Leo over a fallen log. “Last time I was interested in a guy, she was so aggressive he ran clear out of the park. Never saw him again.”

“Does she always try to take the guys you date?”

“Just the ones that dad or mom thinks would be fine additions to the pack.” Selene rolled her eyes.

“How many?”

“So far...three for three, including you,” Selene replied, her tail squeezing him a bit more. “I haven’t seen the other guys in years. After they went with Matra, they went through the portals back to our home plane.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Leo squeezed her hand in response, while ducking carefully under a low-hanging branch. She hummed warmly in response, a smile as bright as sunlight forming.

They kept up their patrol in silence, with the low hoo-hoo of birds in the distance, the babbling brook, and the soft plodding of Leo’s boots acting as the soundtrack to their evening jaunt. All seemed well. The breeze was gentle, and the temperature was fair.

After half an hour, they had circumvented most of the lake. They stepped across a small bridge over the river flowing from the lake.

Across, they could see the kids hustling to meet their nightly needs before bed. Some read to others, a few brushed their teeth. Matra lingered in the entry to her own tent, head low, as she idly poked at the small fire near her tent.

For a moment, Leo almost felt bad for her. He could not fully comprehend the pressure she was under. Being pushed by your parents into a fight you could never win had to be crushing. Still, regardless of any sympathy he may feel for her circumstances, what she was doing was not right.

Selene did not deserve to be the clan's punching bag for wanting to be different. Nor should they attempt to take advantage of her benevolent soul by taking away what made her happy for their gains.

He just hoped that Matra fully understood her efforts would always be fruitless. If she did not, at the next attempt to lure Leo to the clan's beckoning, he would not be subtle or just push her off. Next time, he would dress her down in front of god and everyone, ensuring the message would never be misconstrued.

As they scanned across the water, every hair on Leo’s neck stood on end, as his lizard brain screamed at him that he was in danger. As quickly as he could Leo snapped around, squinting at the darkness. Nothing caught his eye. Not a color out of place, or movement. All was still.

“Do you smell anything?” Leo whispered.

Raising her nose skywards and sweeping back and forth while smelling for a few moments, Selene scrunched her nose. Not out of repulsion, but frustration. “No.” She whined, letting Leo go and stepping forward. “Did you see anything?”

“No...I just had a feeling.”

"Let me check it out," Selene nodded before crouching low and slinking closer to the underbrush. Like a panther closing in on prey, Selene slowly circled the area until vanishing into the thicket. Leo's hand tightened around his pistol until his knuckles ached .

Each breath was calculated and controlled as he focused, waiting for the gavel to drop and a fight to begin.

One second. A bush rustled. Ten seconds. A trailing hoot rose. Thirty. Forty. A minute. Two and Three.

His body tensed like a spring. He took a single step closer and barely audibly whispered. "Selene? Are you alright?"

In an instant, he got a response, a massive shift in the thicket and cracking branches. Leo half-drew his pistol and flicked on the light, nearly leveling it at the approaching contact, until Selene rolled out, the white tips of her ears standing out like stars against the black.

“I didn’t find anything,” Selene said, brushing a leaf out of her short hair. “Did you see anything?”

“No,” Leo replied, shoving the weapon back into its holster. “You certain you did not smell anything?”

Selene crossed her arms and tilted her head. “If there was something out there, I would have smelled or heard it. There is nothing out there.”

Leo sighed and nearly neurotically kept looking around, unable to shake the feeling that something was out there, watching from just out of view. A demon lurking, plotting, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. The same thing so many insurgents had done in the sandbox.

Memories of such cases were so common for Leo that he could perfectly envision a ghoul eying them through binoculars, finger hovering above a Motorola flips call button.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just nerves getting to you.” Selene assured, placing a palm on Leo’s cheek.

As if he was being ripped out of a trance, he locked eyes with Selene. Her assuring smile cast away all the demons lurking in the dark, both those from his past and the conjurations of a tense soul.

“Yeah...you are probably right,” Leo replied, turning with her to finish their patrol.

He wanted to believe her, wished in his heart of hearts that there was nothing out there. However, what he saw that night would not allow him to fully embrace that proposition. Long after the camp had cast their boats into the river of endless dreams, he sat awake, Mister Sandman, unwilling to get within arm’s reach of the Ranger. Out there—just beyond the edge of firelight—yellow, near invisible eyes skulked.

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Expect another chapter today, and two tomorrow. I am sorry I have been swamped and have neglected posting here.

-Colin

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Several days had passed since Leo first spotted the yellow eyes, and the scouts were hard at work. They were all working hard, putting in all their effort to complete this little challenge Selene had drummed up for the scramble of teams.

The voices of challengers echoed in from near and far: from the thicket across the water, to the nearby shore. Rapidly, the kids worked, doing all they could to prove not only to Leo and Selene but also to themselves that they had learned and retained the lessons taught to them over the last few weeks.

Despite the kids being in random groups, they worked well together, young and old. The younger scouts scoured the woods for sticks, bark, and dry tinder. The older kids wrestled with bow drills, carved funnels from scavenged bottles, and repurposed battered cans into water filters: bowdrill, friction board, and a few other options.

None even had an ember going yet, which was a shame. Most teams were already building filtration bottles for the water that still needed to be boiled.

“Come on, guys,” Leo said, crouching beside one of the groups. “You have to put way more pressure on the drill than that.”

“Like you could do any better,” one of the wolf-kin boys snapped back, dropping the bowdrill in the dirt.

Leo picked up the tool and looked it over. He flexed the bow a bit and cinched it down in a tighter position before handing it back.

“I did this in a Venezuelan downpour so heavy I couldn't see my own boots. Take it seriously. Next time, the prize might be the gift of sunrise, not a pack of candy and a merit badge.”

The kid did not argue with Leo; they had all heard about the human fighting like an animal at the portals. With how martial the wolf-kin society was, he might as well have spoken gospel by referring to his time at war.

That group got back to it as Leo bounced from group to group, encouraging them and giving little pointers on what would make starting a fire easier. Change of tinder, having a bird's nest ready, or more pressure like the first group.

None of his advice was anything groundbreaking. It did not need to be. Humans, felinites, and wolf-kin had all been wielding fire as both a tool and weapon since antiquity. The methods of doing so were more advanced than then: Bic, lighter fluid, gasoline, pre-made fire starter, but that was just an advancement of the equipment.

The basics were still the same. Fuel, oxygen, and heat. All you had to do was harness your inner Prometheus and give birth to your own fire.

It took no time before smoke drifted lazily into the air. Seeing that the fires were made, Selene, with a skip in her step, went afield, searching for any groups having trouble building their filters, leaving Leo alone nearby the jaws of an increasingly desperate beast.

"So Leo," Matra said, sidling up beside him and running a claw down his chest. "How many commies have you killed?"

“Enough.” Leo bit.

“Enough, eh. Come on, warrior, don’t be shy, let me hear a bit more.”

He sighed and stepped back from Matra. “Why do you want to know? Does the number of people I've killed make me a better mate or something?”

“Well, no. But dad loves to talk about all the demons, dragons, and monsters he killed on other planes. I figured you would too.”

“Let me guess. Rork told you a bunch of stories about that when you were kids? Tales about valiantly slaying the dragon? How he stood stalwart, unyielding against gnashing teeth and rending claws?”

“Figures as much.” Leo scoffed.

“What do you not believe that my father did all that?”

“I never said that. I just know people like yours glorify war and fighting. What he told you were stories to inspire the younger generation, not the grim, nasty reality of war. Your dad wouldn’t tell you about how many died, how slowly those deaths happened. You got a sanitized version of that.”

She stomped her foot and grumbled at him, “But you told the kids war stories while giving them lessons.”

“That’s different,” Leo said, turning and facing Matra, all semblance of joy and joviality falling away. It was the same thing Leo did when telling a fresh-faced private that the shit they were about to jump into was not like the movies.

“I told them stories that show how what I was teaching them could be used. I did not tell them about the emaciated farmer pressed ganged into a uniform, shivering and scared as shadows in the darkened jungle moved with men with green eyes, and he knew his end had arrived.”

“You make it sound like you were the monster.”

“Yeah.” Leo nodded, momentarily thinking back to those days long gone. “Let’s drop that for now. Go help Selene with the filter groups.”

“But..” Matra began, but folded her ears when Leo glared and curtly delivered his simple command.

“I said go.”

Matra slinked away, likely not understanding why Leo was upset. War was not a game. It was—until very recently—his profession. Talking about it like one would a story about grand heroes just put a sour taste in his mouth. Her flat-out asking him how many men he killed was just uncouth.

That is a question a kid asked. Not a question for a grown woman, who likely had grown up seeing her father haunted by the ghosts of his past.

He sighed and tossed a piece of gum in his mouth, heading over to the last group of kids still struggling with their fire. After giving each of them a piece, he watched what they did and once again gave advice. They got a spark going after a few minutes.

The groups fed their fires tinder first, then kindling, then steadily larger pieces of wood. They would have made Jack London proud; the threat of eighty below was not going to take these kids anytime soon.

Younger kids gradually trickled in. They teased one another about the plants they found, or about other childish considerations: the color of the shirt and the fluffiness of one's fur. Leo did intervene in a few squabbles, but nothing serious, just a game of keep away, and another where the kid was about to dangle a live spider in a girl's face.

Gradually, they poured pond water into cans, then placed them over the fires. Leo did not allow them to guesstimate about boiling times. He did provide them with timers for that. The last thing anyone wanted was for a fun trip and a little test of knowledge to turn into a horrible memory of borderline dysentery.

The day went on. No trouble. The kids boiled water, while Leo’s lizard brain stood alert. The yellow eyes had to be out there. Something waited, watched, wanted. His vindication did not come for hours. But it did come. Right after Murphy started whispering in his ear.

“Leo! I can’t find Malo!” Selene cried, running out of the woods toward him, Matra at her side.

It was time to Ranger the fuck up.

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I hope you enjoyed todays posting. I will have more tomorrow.

-Colin

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