July 24th, 5AC
The idyl swim took him through the last incandescent rays of sunshine and in startlingly little time into the softer bioluminescent shades of the new night. Here, hues of blues and soft greens unfolded, revealing themselves in delicate outlines and subtle glimmers. The light of the sun revealed the beauty of nature in awe inspiring splendor. But the night, ah the night. It teased those secrets. Showing just enough to intrigue while daring you to come closer and find out how deep the rabbit hole went. Timothy had to admit, much as he loved a good sunrise or sunset, they mysteries of the night were a greater draw.
Over the quiet din of human murmurs, seemingly quieter now for the gathering dark, he was beginning to pick out more than a few notes of ethereal plinking. A lute, probably, supported up by the throbbing beat of tribal drums.
Timothy basked in it, slowing his strokes to better hear. Good music was hard to come by now. Well, that and great scenery. He gave a voluptuous redhead with skin so pale the blue of her veins blended into the background glow. Leaving the pale flesh all the brighter for being riven by dark lightning. It helped that a considerable amount of that flesh was on display to be so riven.
Vienna? No, Annasta? He mused, the second... probably? And wasn't that a damn shame that he wasn't sure. At 5'4” she was just his size, and that was rare enough that he shouldn’t be forgetting.
He considered stopping to be reminded, but let it go with a sigh. He still had things to do. So with a last regretful glance, he merely waved at the smoldering glance she shot his way. Fuck! Sometimes doing the right thing was more of a sacrifice than others.
Between a lack of transport and magic food, the levels of fitness in the new world had to be seen to be believed and wherever else beauty lay, it started with fitness and good health. Everywhere he looked there was a new vision of loveliness seeking to distract him.
Temptation, it wasn’t always a bad thing.
It wasn’t always like this, or course. It was the adult hours now. The section of the day that started two hours before sunset and continued till midnight and while there were other locations or times for children, the elderly or just those with a more prudish nature, they did not command nearly the crowds.
The lute and drums paused for a moment, then kicked it off again with something that tickled the back of his brain for a moment, before clicking into place. November rain. An odd arrangement for a single lute and tribal drums, but it worked. Talented bastards, Timothy silently praised them. Especially for norms.
Music was a form of communication and the only way to keep mana out of it entirely was to not have any. Still, he didn’t begrudge the difference. It was a rough job to compete against people who were their own sound systems with mere skill.
That or one of those old-world perfect amphitheaters were the only way to reach large crowds now, and he didn’t have the skill or knowledge to build the second.
He wished he did. They’d lost so much knowledge with the change. Some because the world didn’t work the same way. But much of it because not matter what all those isaki books he’d read said, few people really understood how things worked in the old world.
Oh, they could explain the basics of a combustion engine or the history of the first computer at Bletchley Park. They could describe the grandeur of the Coliseum or the ancient Greek amphitheater at Epidaurus.
He'd been to Merida in Spain once. He couldn't confirm the coin drop, but a normal talking voice was audible in the back seats. The one in Epidaurus was said to be even better, but if anyone still knew how they did it, they weren't saying. A damn shame too.
Hell, take away amplifiers and microphones and those ancient hills of stone beat the piss out of even famous venues like the Sydney Opera House or Carnegie Hall.
It wasn’t all bad news though. True Bardic Mages had skills straight out of fantasy. Able to play emotions as much as sound. To make images dance in clouds of smoke or in the reflection sof light. To join an entire audience together in a massive feedback circle that had to be experienced to believe. It was a subsuming of the individual into the moment and if the Bard was good enough, it was a life-changing, possibly addicting, experience.
Just the same though, Timothy wasn’t up for having his life changed this evening. The simple joy of sound wasn’t outdated by the introduction of Bardic Magic. No more than it was by Movies.
Timothy rounded a final vine covered pillar and found James lounging against the back of it. Neck deep in the water and surrounded by 9 youngish coeds of what it didn’t take a genius to determine were his team. Five men and four women, if barely that by old-world standards. Timothy wasn’t the best at guessing age, but both looks and Jame’s early comments put them sub 20 and likely quite a bit sub at that. Five years since the change and 15 was the usual limit for stasis, a bit less for women a bit more for men.
That gave him an upper bound, but the bottom was hard to guess.
Young or not, though, they carried themselves well. With that certain something, even relaxing naked in a pool, that spoke self-confidence and maturity. They might be without clothes, but they wore the evidence of experience on their skin. Plentiful scars and a lean musculature that spoke of constant use, not the weight room.
Their auras spoke just as loudly. This close the wake of their constructs pressed against Timothy and told him far more about them then they probably realized. A watchful lethality that even in this relaxed state was aware of and cataloged possible threats.
Aurther had a quote that summed it up pretty well. Be polite, be professional but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.
This lot didn’t have the full thing down yet, but they were on their way.
Young but not green. The blood they'd shed, theirs and others, was not insignificant.
He spent a few more moments observing. Processing what he was feeling and making guesses about what it meant. About both their paths and who they were. Persistent constructs were functionally a part of the subconscious and it said a lot about its owner.
Their strength, he mused, wasn't bad. A mix in the second tier. Not unexpected, all groups had some variation. Some grew faster, others slower, and rarely was there a good explanation why...
Or so they said. The truth was often less kind.
The weakest among them wasn't Jason at least. That was something for his fragile ego. The young lady who fit that role was solidly low Tier 2 while the strongest young man knocking on the gates of high. A bit of an outlier that, he wouldn't get much benefit in their current area.
Of course, those were individual strengths and far less important than their team synergies and tactics. A good team should punch up a sub-tier. Ten Low to take a mid. Ten mid to a high and ten high to a top. But only if they were good!
Against a beast stronger than you, it wasn’t enough to toss a hail of spells like a volley of rocks. You had to combine them into something greater than the sum of their parts or you’d never punch through the combination of speed, durability and willpower.
Timothy waited a dozen seconds or so for a lag in the conversation and spoke. “Good evening, ladies, gentleman.”
His arrival, and unfortunately, recognition, had them scrambling to float upright. A rather difficult and largely pointless task, but they managed it. Augmented strength and balance for the win. Treading water they pushed themselves up like water polo players with their shoulders back and chest pushed out. Which did quite nice things for the female members but considering their undetermined ages it left Timothy with a bit of a bad taste in his mouth.
A fist slammed into their upper chests in solute completed the rather silly picture. Though perhaps only silly to him. They held the pose with a rigid respect that bled dangerously towards hero worship. He held in a sigh.
It was a worrisomely common response from the younger generation. They looked to be Runehold natives and that meant he’d taught their introductory class. Even if the sheer number of students going through meant he couldn’t remember them.
It gave him a certain cachet. Throw in a cultural trend towards elaborate hierarchies and this behavior was becoming quite common.
It was still annoying.
His ego got enough excersie without constant stroking. “No rank in the baths.” He pointed out, waving them down. A bit sheepishly they slipped back into the water like synchronized swimmers. It was still a bit to formal, more like an ‘at ease’ then truly relaxed. It was also pretty ridiculous looking.
“Introduce me Silver? Short form. Dear gods, please the short forms!” He said with a sigh.
“Of course. My compatriots, may I introduce you to the Father of Runes-ahhh!”
James jumped up, rubbing his behind in pain. He raised an eyebrow at Timothy and the sparking ring on his finger. Getting a gimlet eye in return he smiled, “-I’ll get you back for that. But fine, Runefather for formal events, and with his permission, Runes elsewhere.”
“Runes this is Tusker,” He pointed to the largest of the lot, a massive young man with an even more massive scar that nearly bisected his upper chest. Timothy was surprised he lived. Tusk hmm?
“-Berry,” The young lady who’d moved back to sit (float?) in Tusker’s lap, had hair the bright color of a blueberry. Considering the blonde roots it was an odd dye choice. Probably more to the story.
“-P.Dog,” Timothy held in the wince, the tall extremely skinny boy had an unfortunately long neck. He did look a bit like a prairie dog, popping up to look around. Not the most kind, but far from the worst he’d heard.
“-Jugs,” The girl tucked under P.Dog’s arm was slender and hard-looking. All sharp angles and elegantly bladed cheekbones. That included a chest as flat as a table. Again ouch.
“-Stabby,” The shortish Brunette sitting clockwise from Jugs had a smile so bright and cheerful he felt like reaching for his absent wallet. Paired with the decidedly exaggerated curves her teammate lacked it just screamed Ackbar. She was also floating alone in a party that had more than its share of pairs.
“-Ducky,” Mid-sized, and with hulking shoulders. Fewer scars and a subdued mana signature suggested a lack of experience and power. Timothy wasn't fooled. The swirling pressure was lighter, but it didn’t, couldn’t hide the depths beneath it from Timothy. It was deliberate. A powerful soul condensing and containing his intent.
He was the strongest of the lot and topped James, a man several years his senior, by a respectable margin. His aura was a flickering hidden thing, twisting and turning like a bashful maiden, but one with claws and teeth behind that innocent smile.
Timothy nodded at him, a bit intrigued. There weren’t many rogue types around. Probably ate Tiered Cat meat and was deadly in an ambush.
“-Midge.” Another giant, 6’7” and bulky. Definitely more of the common Hog enthusiast. They really seemed to love ironic handles. Kinda like hipsters.
“-Gotcha.” Standard military recruit look. Had Arthur's fingerprints all over him. No clue where the name came from.
“And last but not least the two joined at the hip there are Freckles and Guile.”
A midsized redhead with a face well dotted with freckles, next door cute, was tucked up against another MI-stamped recruit. If his hair wasn’t a significantly lighter shade Timothy might have mistaken him for Gotcha. It was cut in a flat top, the short version of a mohawk and a dead ringer for the old street fighter game. Whether the hair or the nickname came first Timothy couldn’t say.
“A pleasure to meet you all. I appreciate you taking care of my younger brother. Hopefully, he does the same for you.”
Various forms of “Of course!” or “Don’t mention it.” rattled back to him. Letting it settle for a minute Ducky spoke up. “Silvers tight, we’re lucky to have him. Keeps some of our more testosterone-laden members-” He glanced sideways with a series of fast but distinct stops. tagging Tusker, Gotcha, Guile and surprisingly at Stabby in under a second, before returning to Timothy. If Timothy hadn't been holding eye contact, he might have missed it. Good control, Timothy reflected, and reminded himself that assumptions could be deadly. “-from biting off more than we can chew.”
“My little brother, the voice of reason? I’m. So. Damn. Proud.” Timothy gave an exaggerated sniff and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. It was unfair of course. James had always had a good head on his shoulders. It had seen him to success in as difficult and backbiting a field as ever existed.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Law.
He was level-headed to a fault, just so long as his overdeveloped ego didn't engage.
Not that Timothy had much to say on that front.
“Ya, ya. Ham it up why don’t you.”
“I will, I will, but later. I haven't been over to Dorado since establishing the Threshold, do you mind telling me a bit about what you’ve seen out there?”
Ducky glanced over at Tusker getting a nod, then at James for another nod before speaking. “I don’t mind telling a few tales,” he spoke cautiously, “our claims are no doubt pocket change to you. But it’s not the sort of thing we like to say in public, so-”
Before he could ask for a delay, Timothy raised a hand to stop him, tagging each member of the team with his intent, leaving the bodyguards hovering back a dozen yards nearly invisibly out, then rotating his hand at the wrist to dramatically snap his fingers. A cloud, visible only to the inner eyes, disgorged from his right ear clasp and expanded out to connect them all together. Flexing his will he made the barrier visible for a brief second, “No one will listen in.” He felt a small twinge, not pain but a warning and hastily added, “Rather, it's unlikely. Anyone strong or skilled enough to manage it isn't likely to envy anything you have.”
The number of people who could pull that off had to be small. That he knew of anyway- he paused that thought. Actually, he couldn't think of anyone who could off the top of his head. A large number could punch through it, but not without Timothy noticing.
He hid a smile as shock flickered across their faces. They had decent control, and it didn't last. Ducky, true to form, didn't so much as blink. Outwardly at least. Unfortunately for them, their aural control was much less impressive. He could feel their shock and an uncomfortable degree of awe.
Good. Despite how it felt, it was necessary.
Just because he didn’t care for the formality of respect, he required the essence of it. He had a duty to improve moral and remind people why Origins ruled and there were few better ways to do that then to demonstrate a powerful, or skillful command of magic with nonchalance.
To a lesser degree, it was an unstated job all veterans shared when they visited the Holds. Though this lot wasn’t quite at the level where they'd be clued in yet.
“Ahh, right then.” His voice firm and even, Ducky glanced upwards for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around the spell before giving it up. “Let me tell you about a hunt we did a week and a half ago. We were a good four hours out of the Threshold. Now Silver said you just got back from a jungle run? From what I've heard, a day's travel on the prairie isn’t nearly as far. If the jungle is all about fast movement, hit hard and keep going, then the prairie is more about moving unseen and unheard. The tall meadow grass helps with that.”
“Of course, it does the same for the beasts. There are no sight lines on the prairie. The wild grasses and grains grow twice as tall as a man. We take it slow and patient. Trusting our ears and the weep to find them before they find us. Guile and P.Dog are our weepers. Damn good at it too,” He nodded to them respectfully, getting a fist-to-chest salute from Guile and a blush from P.Dog.
“It’s a bit nerve-racking. Surrounded, protected but isolated in the sea of green and gold. It can be a bit claustrophobic, the way the grasses close in around and above you. And you can’t clear them back either. Cutting out a trail is what prey animals do. My first instructor told me that if you act like prey don't be surprised when the predators treat you like it.”
“No.” He shook his head, “You can’t walk too close together and you can’t crush the grass. You have to learn to walk without damaging it, without leaving a trail at all. It takes a bit of work, and a peculiar way of sliding your feet, but it can be done.” Timothy heard a low-pitched voice whisper from his memories about walking without rhythm.
“This particular trip we were headed for a sunflower patch we stumbled on several months back. You wouldn’t think so, with how flat it looks, but the prairie is filled with small gradual hills and ravines. Mostly that's a bad thing when you fall ten feet with no warning. But every once in a while, you find these little hidden valleys. Also by falling into them, but at least that makes them easier to keep to yourself.”
“We were –
Ducky paused, holding up a closed fist. Was that a chitter?
Was that a Prairie dog?
The murderous little shits weren't what he remembered from CBS kids. Not unless he missed the episode where they showed a horde of highly territorial child-sized rodents striping a 2-ton pig of flesh in under 2 minutes.
He threw several quick hand signs and waited for P.Dog to check with his weep. Not daring to move while he waited.
He heard a slight brushing sound behind him but didn't bother turning to look. He'd seen it far too many times before. P.Dog would be shuffling through his half dozen scry wands, miniature brooms complete with bristles, though not of anything so pedestrian as straw.
There were a lot of different predators out there and each wand could only detect one of them. Between them, P.Dog and Guile made that two at any given time. They switched regularly, but that didn't mean something couldn't slip through between sweeps.
It was up to sharp ears and common sense to fill those gaps. If you heard a chitter you checked for Prairie dogs. Dire rat droppings (they swarmed in the hundreds and could weigh over 30 lbs apiece) meant backing up and possibly running like hell, depending on the quantity. If they were swarming, it was a death sentence to get caught outside the Threshold. Leftover kills from the raptors or larger dinosaur types were a notice that you were in their hunting range, back.
And wasn’t that a damn shame, he grimaced. What child didn't adore dinosaurs? He'd begged his parents to go to the museums just to see the T.Rex exhibit. Now? Please, please, by whatever was good and holy, stay the fuck away!
Well trod trails meant hogs were near. That meant good hunting, but also lots of predators. Hear a loud rattle? STOP. Back the fuck up and go around. Giant rattler leather was valuable, but not worth the risk. Even if you killed it without issue, a hide that size was damn heavy and only a fool would fill their bags early and carry it around all day. On the way back and close-ish to home? Maybe. If the days take was bad enough.
Weight reducing sacks were expensive and took a good bit of mana to keep active. They kept one in case of a real find, but it would have to be a legit find. Good hunters learned to be picky about what they hunted, and what they kept. Between the ten of them they could hoof a good chunk of loot out but still. They had to filter for high value per pound.
He caught P.Dog gesturing violently out of the corner of his eye and had to fight to hold in a curse. A new colony then and right in their way. If they couldn't find another entrance to the box canyon, they might have to forgo the harvest all together.
He really wasn't willing to give up on it. Those grains were more than just a paycheck, although he wouldn't turn down the fat one they would bring, they were also a change of menu. Morale and the good opinions of the other hunters. Throw in some of the quartz and iron pyrite they'd seen last time and it would jump their plans forward by five or six months!
He wanted it! With a fiery passion he wanted that loot! And no damn ROUSs were going to take it from him!
He took a few deep breaths and a mental step back. You had to be alive to enjoy it.
It was time to think, not to rage. He gestured and began to walk backward, listening for all he was worth. He made out the occasional chitter, but nothing with any rage in it. If you didn't hit their boundaries, they wouldn't bother you. Fifty yards back he stopped and gestured for a 10-minute break.
Like a well-oiled door, the team swung into motion. Throwing out traps, motion wards and preparing several larger offensive spells on each of their assigned sectors.
The results of years working together, slowly polishing off the rough edges and flaws. Everyone knew where to step, or not to step in a choreographed evolution that accomplished what needed to be accomplished without any extra curlicues.
Settling in, he glanced over at P.Dog and Guile again. They didn't have a sector, instead, they were rapidly cycling through their wands, burning mana and willpower to establish the area and make sure they weren't about to get corncobbed.
They didn’t have to use every wand, but they checked the more common migrating species. Like raptors, hogs or rats. They could afford to ignore prairie dogs and rattlers. Too hot this time of day for the latter to be doing anything but sunning itself, and the former only left their homes when the colony split. With a brand new colony in front of them, that wasn't going to happen again for quite some time.
Happy that they were relatively safe, for a few moments at least, he spoke, quietly but without whispering like they'd been taught. “P.Dog.”
“Definitely Prairie Dogs. Only 80-ish members so a new colony.”
He glanced around seeing grimaces to match his own. He didn’t need to explain the obvious. “About 9 hours of daylight left. We have time to look for another entrance. Might not find it. Thoughts?”
Tusker mused, “Not much of a cliff on the northwest. Use ropes and belay down?”
Silver shook his head, “Not quite a cliff but the hillside is unstable. Steep and unstable means landslides. Then climbing back out with a loaded pack? No.”
Stabby chimed in, “Are we borrowing trouble? We know the prairie dog colony is in front of us, not exactly how far in front or how far it goes. Can we go around and slip through the usual entrance?”
Ducky grimaced, but glanced at Silver, he was the team's conscience. Its risk assessor. The older man hesitated, but with a sigh nodded his agreement. “Worth a check I suppose. But no maybes, if it's even remotely close we need to pass. A new colony won’t have marked their boundaries yet, but they'll still kill us all if we cross one.”
Ducky glanced around, seeing no disagreement he spoke, “Alright then. Which way Jugs?” She was their lucky charm. No one in the Dorado commons would gamble with her. When right looked as good as left, you couldn’t beat lucky.
She pulled a stone coin out, flipped and slapped it on the back of her hand. “Left.”
He nodded again, “Hydrate and take care of business. We pull out in three.” Midge pulled out a small shovel from his pack. Carefully cutting a circular block of sod, then a sharp duck and twist to break it loose across the bottom. A quick tug later and there was a plug of sod on the side and a hole waiting to be used.
Scat piles were a great way to locate beasts, only a fool let them return the favor.
Their business done, a handful of dried Jasmine flowers were tossed into the hole, then the sod chunk was replaced. The moisture would activate the flower's scent. Covering up anything that might leak out in a natural, if stinky as hell, scent.
The wards came down, were collected and they were on the move again. Carefully sliding their feet to avoid knocking down the tall grasses. A step at a time. Never too fast, but without stopping. All the while P.Daddy watched the weep like a hawk. Tracking the edge of the colony, making sure they never got to close or to give them a small chance to run if the damn things started boiling out of their burrows.
It took a half hour to circle around them, a slow nerve nerve-racking half hour. But at last, they were in a spot to overlook the entrance. It was close, a mile was too close with the damn rodents, but a mile might be survivable. This wasn’t.
They found a vantage point up on a barely there hill above the valley and standing on Guiles shoulders he considered the view angrily. The unstable dirt escarpment leading to their hidden valley was now on to the left as they faced back the way they'd come. It wasn’t a cliff, Tusker was right on that, but it might as well have been. It was a few pebbles away from a slide. Covered in some low-growing vines and fungus it was impassible without some serious construction work.
Time consuming, loud and very visible construction work. The other side was a cliff, and one with lots of sharp jagged edges to it at that. Between the two, the entrance to the valley was barely 10 feet wide. Twisting back and away for a considerable distance before opening up into a fairly large circular meadow surrounded by towering cliffs. Unless you fell off those cliffs, or like they had into the entrance, you’d never find it.
The small stream that filled half the bottom might explain how the valley came to be but then again it might not. There were many such streams around, but following them wasn’t good for your health.
Like paths, streams were where prey drank and predators waited.
Their find was safe. Now if they could just find a way to be safe themselves in harvesting it...
He bit down on a growl of frustration, this wasn’t going to work. They’d have to waste hours looking for another way, and he wasn’t at all sure there was one.
Then Guile tapped his ankle, shoving a weep upwards into his hands. Glancing down, the wand had a raptor carved into it. A pointed finger gave him the bearing and a quick activation told him the distance. He slid down and sunk to his knees crawling to the edge of the scree to get a look. He froze as the ground caved slightly beneath his hands and his testicles tried to climb back inside him.
Frozen he waited barely breathing, but the collapse didn't continue and even better, the rocks didn’t fall screaming their location. Just a few inches of soft dirt compressing. He swallowed and carefully slid backward a bit.
Then carefully raised his head. A pack of Raptors clustered over the wrecked corpse of a giant lizard. Giant enough to feed 6 raptors at least. Maybe a Lystrosaurus, he guessed. Not from any great knowledge of paleontology, but from hours playing a survival dino video game.
Funny, his mother always said video games would rot his mind. Look ma, it was useful after all! Not all that accurate, probably. If nothing else he somehow doubted knocking them out and force-feeding them would make them rideable. But still useful.
Either way they were screwed.
The overgrown lizards were in the narrowing corridor leading down towards the hidden entrance, not in it yet. But there was no way to get past them without being noticed.
Or maybe not…
One problem was a problem. He mused, but two problems… Heh.
He crawled backward carefully, gesturing quickly in the sign language of hunters to tell them both what he saw, and what he wanted. They stared at him with disbelief for several moments before silently sighing and shaking their heads helplessly. Silver even gave him his ultimate compliment. A facepalm. This was going to be so sweet.
It took several minutes to set up, but soon enough the illusion of a baby hog was sprinting hell-mell across the prairie, not unusual to see alone. They’d split and run in every direction if the passel was faced with a lethal danger.
It sprinted forward, squealing loudly in panic as it ‘saw’ the raptors, turned and bolted away… right towards the prairie dog colony. The old tricks were the best. Predators to the core, even with meat in front of them they couldn't resist fleeing prey. The chase was on, and soon the screaming, chittering rage of the prairie dogs was added to the mix. Raptors weren’t stupid, if they’d seen a prairie dog furrow, no way they’d have crossed it. But it was a new colony, and the furrow wasn’t dug yet.
They didn't stay to watch the festivities. Blitzing down and around the edges of the unstable slopes to make the valley proper. Throwing up cloaking spells and scent blockers with every other step as they ran while the blood, hair and scales flew behind them.
The raptors wouldn’t go down easily, but six versus an entire colony? They would go down. Nothing short of the true titanic dinosaurs would mess with a well-established prairie dog town, and those wouldn’t get enough meat out of the fight to make it worth it.
Thankfully this was not anywhere near their range. Only Dinotown bordered the big boys and it was no coincidence that they were the sneakiest bastards with the best cloaking spells in the Union.
They made the valley, breathing hard but excited. Human brains once again triumphant over the world, and with loot to be had as a reward!
“-came out of it with two hundred pounds of sunflower seeds and around twenty of sunny iron pyrite. It was a very good day!”
Timothy smiled, the glee with which he told the tale was contagious. He was sure that such an accomplished storyteller would have improved on what nature provided, but the bones were no doubt true.
“Impressive haul! I imagine my agent snagged a few samples.” An easy guess to make. He paid well above standard rates for the privilege of the first look at any new materials. “Pyrite, aka fool’s gold, probably an illusion focus? Though if its sun aspected like you say, it might fall off in potency at night...” He mused, thinking about the synergies and contradictions inherent in such a material, then pushed it to the back of his mind for later.
“Your hidden valley is probably a mana sink. It would explain why so many sun-aspected materials were present. If you manage to get back there safely I'd be willing to pay a high price for a sample of the quartz you mentioned.”
He could practically see dollar signs popping up in their eyes. A reputation could be a wonderful thing. It paid to pay well! He let the better sink in a bit before asking after the bitter. “I do have one small question though. Your distraction got you in to the valley, did you have a plan to get back out?”
Ducky blushed while nine sets of eyes glared at him. He sheepishly looked anywhere but at his team. He searched for words without success for a time before finally shrugging. Then with a sly smile he spoke.
“Well… it seemed like a good idea at the time!”
Timothy ducked beneath the water to avoid a fusillade of food chunks and splashed water.