It was spring. That meant no more trudging through snow or shivering myself to sleep at night. The air was warm. Birds were singing, flowers were in bloom, and I learned my lesson—my pockets were full of them. Any time I found a new flora species, I picked a few… just in case.

Yep. And with that pink cloak, it all just… works.

Slay, Queen!

Hey, those glowing flowers saved my life once. Who knows what the rest of them could do?

I do.

What? You do? And?

They would look absolutely gorgeous in a vase.

You’re sure?

Sure as I am you’re a virgin.

I groaned, and started emptying my pockets. Not an admission, by the way. I just knew by now that Screenie’s answer meant yeah, my collection was as useless as the nipples on Batman’s armor.

Clooney, baby!

And as long as I’ve known the weird floating blue box I called Screenie, I still had no idea how he had knowledge of so many Earth references.

Life’s a mystery.

Hey, at least you earned a point in Herbalism along the way!

Did I?

Do you pay attention to anything I say?

You say a lot of things.

I must’ve looked like the flower girl on someone’s wedding day, dumping so many of them from my pockets. Luckily, I was dragging behind the group, so no one had to witness my shame. Sure, I’d leveled up a time or two since we’d left Fa’Lem on Mount Gehram, but that hadn’t prepared me for the long trek through every kind of terrain imaginable. One thing was for sure, if I did ever make it back to Willistown, I’d never take airplanes for granted again.

I honestly don’t know why you guys didn’t Fast Travel.

Fast Travel?? You’ve gotta be kidding…

Screenie was silent long enough for me to fully unload all the flowers before the screen filled with ha-has.

You’re really not that funny.

I beg to differ.

The thought of flying even Spirit Airlines across this crazy world brought up a question I’d been thinking a lot about lately. Did I even want to go back to Earth? What was there for me there anyway? The more I got to know Lilla, the less I thought about Trish and what could’ve been. Yeah, when I slept on the cold, hard ground, I missed my super-expensive bed. But without someone to share it with, did it matter?

I’d fallen into the habit of making a mental list as we walked. Pros and cons. The longer I was in Aethonia, the smaller the list of pros for returning home became. Things still at the top were hot showers, deodorant, and breakfast cereal. I know, kind of stupid. But, man, what wouldn’t have done for a big bowl of Lucky Charms. Instead, here, there were probably real-life leprechauns.

In fact, there are multiple races of leprechauns, each making up—

Screenie, unless there are leprechauns right here, and they could kill me, I’m not really interested.

If you think you’d be better off without me again…

No! It’s not that. I just don’t want to read about leprechauns right now.

I keenly remembered the last time Screenie went silent-mode on me. It wasn’t pretty. I’d still only been in this place for a short while, and everything was different from home. As annoying as he could be, I couldn’t deny the fact that I’d gotten used to him being around, and I needed him.

Aww.

It was sort of like a really messed up Stockholm Syndrome, the relationship I had with this seemingly omniscient screen. One that existed entirely in my head. All the time.

“What is wrong, Danny?” Curr asked. “You look as if a rodent defecated in your porridge.”

I must’ve been making a face without realizing it.

This might be a good time to tell him you’re missing home. To tell him where you’re really from and how you got here. It might be a good time to remember that…

CURRENT OBJECTIVE:

Find a way to tell Curr the truth about where you’re from.

CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILURE:

Curr will probably kill you for lying.

“Me? Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired of walking.”

Pussy.

Whoa! You’re the pussy.

I am what I eat.

You’re gross.

“It is those little legs,” Curr said without emotion.

My cheeks went red with anger. I don’t know if it was Screenie, my current objective, or Curr insulting me again. But I snapped.

“I do not have little legs!” I pointed to Garvis who was somehow outpacing me. “He has little legs.”

The halfling turned back toward me, little pudgy face screwed up in a pout. “I’m not even involved in this yigging conversation!”

He was right. I didn’t know why I did that. Garvis and I had met under less than ideal circumstances. He tried to rob me. I broke his face—

Hah!

I did.

But the great thing is, he and I had actually been getting along lately. Over the past few months, when Lilla wasn’t training me with a sword and bow, Garvis was teaching me “tricks.”

He was teaching you how to become more than just a Petty Thief.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

It was true. He helped me increase my Stealth, Pickpocketing, and I even unlocked a new Skill called Deception.

“Sorry,” I mouthed to him.

My silent apology did nothing to quell his offense. He simply huffed and started power-walking like a mom squad in the suburbs. I’d have to find a way to make it up to the little guy.

I’m sure if you call him that, it’ll make great strides toward your reconciliation.

“Everyone stop,” Lilla said, concern in her tone.

“I know. We’re being immature—”

“No. Do you smell that?” She sniffed the air, and so did I.

“Currrrrr,” Garvis said, the name drawn out accusingly.

Curr just looked at everyone with a confused expression.

“It’s not Curr either,” Lilla said.

“I smell it too,” I agreed.

You’re just trying to suck up.

No. Really. I do.

“It’s like… fire? Is something on fire?” I asked, looking around.

As was common to the region, thick forests surrounded us. The trees were taller than most buildings back in Willistown—actually, probably all buildings in Willistown. Even straight ahead, on the dirt road, a curve led us deeper into more woods. I turned my gaze to the sky above the canopy. No smoke—none that I could see at any rate.

Lilla shook her head. “It’s not just fire. There’s something else too. Something I’ve smelled before.”

Curr took a huge whiff. “Oh, it is trolls,” he said as if commenting on the weather. “They have a funny smell, do they not? And pungent.” He waved his hand in front of his nose.

“Trolls?” Garvis and I both said at the same time.

“What a treat!” Curr practically shouted. “Last I ventured forth to slay trolls, it took my party several months to even catch a whiff of one.”

Garvis plugged his nose. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

Huh… that’s odd.

Looking back through my transcripts, I see I never told you about trolls.

You have transcripts?

Of course I do. What do you think I am, an amateur?

To be honest, I still don’t know what you are exactly.

That’s for another day. For now… trolls!

TROLLS:—Or would you rather not hear about them now either…?

Unlike leprechauns, there might actually be trolls here. Tell me.

TROLLS: Trolls can be found anywhere in Aethonia, if one knows where to look. They are elusive, and their varieties different from region to region. Frost Trolls, Sea Trolls, Mountain Trolls, River Trolls, Bog Trolls, Sand Trolls—the list goes on and on. Luckily for you, this part of the world has Greenwood Trolls!

Are Greenwood Trolls less dangerous?

Noooo. Not. At. All. Possibly some of the most dangerous of the bunch.

Then how is it lucky?

Because they aren’t naked like a lot of the other trolls. They literally clothe themselves with the forest.

Trolls are monstrous creatures both in size and demeanor. There truly are endless ways in which one could kill you. From crushing you in its VW Beetle-sized palm, to smashing you with feet as big as a full-size pickup truck. And if these weren’t Greenwood Trolls, I’d have to warn you not to get whacked by a low-hanging fifth limb, if you know what I mean.

While they aren’t malevolent, they are violent. They’re a bit like a great dane who jumps on your lap without even the slightest idea how big they are. Think of it like when you bump your hip on a coffee table, except when they do it, it’s a house. And the house comes crashing down on anyone inside. See? So many ways you could die.

Abundantly helpful, as always.

Shhh. I’m not done. Here’s the good part. Trolls are believed to be the offspring of gods and giants. It’s said that many eras ago, before there were wellicks; before even the elves, the gods walked Aethonia. Cool, right? Their first creation, the giants, were carved from the mountains, suckled at the teat of the goddess Fre, and drank the sperm of Ludos himself for sustenance. Once the giants were old enough to… take it another way, they became pregnant with trolls.

I don’t really believe the story, but it’s fun.

Yeah, nothing like a little incest to get your day started.

See? You just… get me.

I’d been reading Screenie’s update so long, I hadn’t even realized everyone was staring at me. “What?”

“Your uh… lute,” Garvis said. “It’s doing that thing.”

Suddenly, my ears were attuned to music.

My lute was magical. The plays-by-itself kind of magical. She had a tendency to soundtrack my life. Most of the time, it was great. Sometimes—anytime I was around Lilla—it wasn’t. When Lilla and I trained, Roxanne—the lute—stayed at camp. I wasn’t Ron Jeremy, and this wasn’t a Hollywood set, and I didn’t need my affections broadcast to the entire world.

The lack of underwear in Aethonia kind of does that for you.

I ignored Screenie and did a slow circle. Roxanne usually had a good reason for playing, but as she plucked her strings, I cocked my head.

“Odd,” I said under my breath. It was a song I’d never heard before, not the Battle Hymn that warned me of danger. It had a certain urgency, but was also… hopeful?

“What do you think it means?” Lilla asked.

She understood the ways of the lute better than anyone else, except maybe me.

:::Clears throat:::

You straight up told me you didn’t understand it.

Whatever.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe she just likes the forest?”

“Sure,” Garvis said, bitterness in his tone. “We start smelling fire and trolls, but your little lute just wanted to serenade our promenade through the woods.”

He was right, but that didn’t explain why she was playing.

I would’ve asked her, and believe it or not, she would have answered. But no one else in the Party knew she and I could communicate like that, and for some reason, I just didn’t feel right letting them know.

Perhaps because you’re a big fat liar with pants on fire?

Then we got our answer when a racket rose from the thickly packed trees to our left. At first, I couldn’t tell if they were screams or just children playing. A moment later, however, a group of townspeople burst through—disheveled and terrified. When they saw us, their collective eyes went wide and they shifted trajectory to make a beeline our way.

“Please! Please! You have to help us!” a man in front shouted.

They were still far enough away that I had to strain to hear him over Roxanne.

Screenie highlighted the dark-skinned fellow.

NAME: Robert “Bobby” Brown

OCCUPATION: Tent Maker

RACE: Wellick

SPECIAL ABILITIES: Probably making tents. Duh. Has a decent singing voice too.

WEAPONS: This guy is more helpless than you.

Bobby kept repeating the same thing until he was close enough to grab my shirt and shake me. “Tell me, tell me, why can’t I just live my life! Our village is under attack!”

“My husband is still there!” one woman added.

“And my home is aflame!” shouted another rather dramatically.

“Okay, calm down,” I said.

Sure, that always works.

“Just tell us what happened,” I continued as if Screenie’s words weren’t obstructing my view of the man.

Bobby’s tightly spun black hair was full of dirt, leaves, and pine needles. Dirt covered his dark cheeks and nose, and a small trickle of blood leaked from a swollen lip. He was young, muscular, and good-looking.

Do you wanna marry him?

You can’t admit when another guy is handsome?

While you often refer to me as a “he,” that doesn’t make it true.

I didn’t have time to consider what that meant because Bobby was motoring on like a madman. “They say I’m crazy. I really don’t care! I saw the man.”

“Who?” Garvis asked.

At that, Bobby got a crazed look in his eye, let go of my shirt, and threw himself down beside Garvis like he’d just noticed the halfling for the first time. Clutching him now, he shouted, “He’s mad! Chasing a troll that seemed to have gotten away from him!”

“See, I told you I smelled troll,” Curr said, proud of himself.

“Wasn’t no man!” the woman whose husband was still in the village cried out. “Just a stray troll, wrecking our town!”

Garvis stepped backed and removed Bobby’s hands, wiping at his clothes as if whisking away dirt.

But that didn’t stop the guy. He crawled forward on his knees, still prattling on. “No matter what my friends try to tell you, there’s a man chasing a troll that’s destroying our village.”

“Please, mister. You have to save our homes!” a little boy called out from the back.

Lilla stepped forward, displaying a kindness that came with soft words. “We will help you. Don’t worry.” She looked around at all of them like she was Mother Theresa.

“We will?” Garvis said, aghast.

Curr brandished his axe. “We will!” He laughed. “It has been many months since I last slew foul trolls. If only Vulna and Fargus were here!”

Ouch. Does that sting a little? Him talking about his ex like that in front of you?

“We don’t have much to offer in exchange for your help,” Bobby said. “But what little belongs to us, it is yours.”

NEW OBJECTIVE:

Save the village from utter annihilation.

REWARD:

Their worthless shit.

I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’d do this.

I think you’re right. This sounds dangerous.

“We’ll help them, right, Danny?” Lilla asked.

Without hesitation, I said, “Absolutely.”

Whoopisshhhhh.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Curr asked. “Point the way!”