SUBJECT // briya thorn // muurian scout //

THEORY POTENTIAL // guttering //

Shake my head and grimace at myself. No good thinking of the past, Briya girl. That night's near five years gone. Here and now, that's what matters. You got choices in front of you. You got some bad fights, most likely.

Glance at fool. Avon Averline. Still don't have a fix on him. Still haven't figured out what the hell he wants. Closest I've got though, here and now. So I slow my pace. Let our paths get a little closer. Hang back behind them others a bit. Tro and Finn. Nasty little bald prick and some kind of porridgey boy-man. Nothing much to either of 'em.

Another glance at fool. "Whatever I do," I murmur, low enough that them in front won't hear, "follow."

See him look my way. See that daft smile. See the fraction of a nod.

He's a fool, this Avon Averline, that's the truth. But he ain't an idiot.

"Muurian, uh?" Tro says, grinning back like he's got something on me. "A scout and all. Useful sort of soul to keep around."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I ain't got the words to waste on this prick. But then he ain't the sort that needs words.

"Get grabbed like us?" he asks, still got that grin going on. "Red shadows and some fart-talking bint babbling nonsense, that your story same as ours?"

I give him a nod, but I ain't hopeful it'll shut him up.

"Yeah, some shit this is," Tro mutters, hint of honesty in his slippery voice. "And trust me, I know shit."

I do believe that.

"Should we be keeping quiet?" the boy Finn asks. "Those lizard things—do you know what they are?"

Give the boy a grunt, ain't his fault he's young. "Dangerous."

He tries to smile but it wasn't worth the effort. "Did, uh, I heard that in Muur you get things in, in the old lands—"

"We do," I say. "But stories are always bigger."

"There are terrors in the mist," Avon says, voice all rich and soft because these ain't his words. "Though none so horrific as the nightmares of our minds."

"You're saying what we imagine is worse than what's really out there?" Finn says.

Avon laughs, too lightly. "We should ask the expert. Briya?"

"Can't say I ever got my head ripped off by anything imaginary."

Another laugh from Avon, controlled but maybe more real than before. Tro joins, sharp-edged chuckle he's got, and after a bit of wide-eyed staring so does Finn, showing his youth more than ever in that tight little giggle.

So it's only me that's not laughing.