Gwil awakened and found that he’d fallen asleep with a tube of ztuff in his hand. He squirted some into his mouth to wash out the foul taste, then sat up and stretched.

Cort slept slumped over in his chair, with his ass halfway on the seat and his head on the floor. Jayson and Argo were gone. Gwil assumed he’d taken the dog out for a walk.

The absence of the wind and rain engendered a strange stillness. The Kaia torch was putting out some heat, and that gave Gwil an idea.

He looked over the device—a metal cylinder with a glass section where bubbly sprites of Kaia danced about. Its top had a heating coil, and the frying pan still rested upon it.

Gwil cranked up the knob for the stove and then went to the fridge and gathered six eggs. He cracked them all into the pan, broken yolks running everywhere. This pan could not accommodate so many eggs. Oh well, too late. Gwil sat down and leaned back on the pile of blankets while the eggs cooked.

He was awakened by Cort’s screaming and the pungent smell of something burning. The cellar was hazy with black smoke.

“Fucking idiot,” Cort said. “We’re guests here. Where’s Jayson?”

“I was just making everyone some breakfast.”

Cort shoved the frying pan in Gwil’s face, confronting him with a charred and still-smoking black glob.

“With the ketchup they might still be-”

Cort dumped the burnt mass into Gwil’s lap. He poked at it and found that it was like a rock.

“Don’t waste food. That’s a shitty thing to do. And don’t burn down people’s living spaces.”

Gwil cleared his throat against the smoke. “Yeah, sorry. Jayson took the dog out, I think.”

“No, he didn’t,” Cort said, looking down at a scrap of paper. He passed it to Gwil.

It read:

Sorry to run off, but I’m in a hurry. Needed to get an early start on the gap between storms. You can keep my fridge and torch. Nice meeting you, thanks for hanging out – Jayson + Argo

“Aw, what the hell?” Gwil said. “I thought we might go through the Stormlands together. I hope he at least took some Zippy’s for himself.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Cort muttered. “It’s weird of him to leave us this stuff, though. That fridge is worth a lot of doubloons. It collapses down to the size of a briefcase. He left us some dishes too.”

Gwil shrugged. “If you gotta go, you gotta go. Let’s get outta here. Leira’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Thank fuck,” Cort said. “He left some clothes and a backpack, too. These’ll fit me much better than your doll’s clothes. I was gonna ask him if I could borrow something.”

***

It was near midday when they made it back to Leira’s burial site. The storm had further damaged the town, but the place was already so ruined that it was more like the damage had just changed shape.

The patch of dirt was now thick with overgrown wildflowers. The blossoms had bloomed so much that the flowers drooped to the ground under the weight, and the surrounding grass now reached waist high.

“That’s crazy,” Cort said. “What is she?”

“Just Leira. That centipede lady wants her, by the way. We’re gonna have to fight her some time.”

“I figured. That’s fine with me. I’ve got a bone to pick with her, too. My feet still aren’t right, and that poison made me act like an ass.”

Gwil laughed.

“Did Leira really kill you?”

“Yeah, she was stuck in some big flower and had to kill someone to get herself out, I think.”

Cort furrowed his brow. “How’d she find you?”

“I was just walking in the woods. I lived in Alnam, you know? Just off the coast of Podunk. I’m from…” Gwil scratched his chin. “Serenity… Celery? No. What? Why can’t I remember? Reverie! That’s it. But yeah, it was just a lucky coincidence.”

“Okay, sure,” Cort said.

Gwil watched as Cort crafted a harness for his hammer that would allow him to carry it on his back. He used the leather straps from Jayson’s backpack, along with some cloth, strips of scrap metal, and rusty nails from the ruins. The end result was quite impressive.

Cort stood and jumped around to test the harness’s hold. “Alright, that’ll do. Let’s get packed up so we can leave as soon as Leira wakes up.”

Gwil looked around. They had nothing to pack except the ketchup.

Cort dumped two boxes into his new backpack, filling it. They started stuffing the rest into Gwil and Leira’s bags, sliding the tubes in between folds of clothing.

“Hmm,” Gwil said. “I think Leira would be mad if we threw away any important stuff to fit more ztuff. Wanna just eat the rest and then fight?”

“Finally,” Cort said.

***

Gwil landed three successive punches against Cort’s stalwart block. On the fourth, Cort caught Gwil by the wrist, lifted him up, and then slammed him down on his back.

Gwil rolled away as Cort made to body slam him—he’d already done that trick three times. As he rolled, Gwil aimed a kick at Cort’s shin, but ended up connecting with his own shin instead of his foot. The bone cracked and then simmered as it fused back together.

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“C’mon,” Cort said. “This is boring if you don’t use Nirva. I’ve fought plenty of Hallows.”

Gwil jumped to his feet, breathing hard. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it or whatever. But I can’t control it. Especially not when I’m all hopped up on twenty tubes of ztuff. I punched through concrete yesterday.”

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” Cort said, beckoning Gwil forward.

Gwil ran at him, feinting low before jumping up while drawing his fist back.

Cort ate the blow to his jaw like it was nothing and threw Gwil on the ground again.

“Boring,” Cort said. “At least use your shrinking or something. You need to practice.”

Pop.

“Let’s go,” Gwil squeaked. He dashed away from the place he’d been standing and then used Mir. He saw Cort as a column of rough stone that flowed between red and cold gray.

But he was looking for something else. As Cort stomped around, Gwil darted toward a beetle that was crawling on a blade of grass. He was only as small as a shirt button, but the grass kept him hidden.

Gwil grabbed the critter by one of its front legs and hoisted it up onto his back, carrying it piggyback style. The beetle’s other legs writhed against Gwil’s back. He giggled at how it tickled.

Giving Cort a wide berth, Gwil circled around to climb up the back of his leg. He tried to get the beetle to help, since bugs could climb up walls, but the stupid thing was panicking and being uncooperative.

Cort stopped pacing around and said, “What the hell are you doing? What’s the point of this hide-and-seek bullshit?”

Stifling laughter, Gwil made it to Cort’s shoulder. He held the beetle up over his head, then pumped Nirva into his legs and jumped straight upward. He threw the beetle right into Cort’s earhole.

“What the f-” Cort’s hand immediately flew up to smack himself on the side of the head. Gwil went wide-eyed as the giant hand obliterated the beetle, splattering its guts across Cort’s ear and cheek.

Pop.

“Asshole,” Gwil said, back at normal size. “You killed my bug.”

Cort brushed off his hands and swiped away the guts from his cheek. “Gross. That’s not what I meant, you little moron. I meant you should try to integrate your shrinking into your hand-to-hand fighting. Use it to dodge and disorient and all sorts of things.

“Ohhh,” Gwil said. “Good idea. Okay, let’s go.”

They squared up, circling each other. Cort charged forward and threw a punch. Gwil shrank and then jumped with a boost of Nirva.

Pop. He grew back mid-leap, tried to swing at Cort and whiffed. He was soaring upward, way higher than he’d intended. Arms flailing, Gwil guessed he was about four meters high when he started coming back down. Pop.

He shrank as he fell and landed feet first on a blade of grass. It quivered at the impact but held—he’d made himself extra tiny this time. Gwil gasped. He’d been so high up and he hadn’t even staggered upon landing.

“You must’ve kept your momentum from when you were big,” Cort said. “I bet you could go even higher.”

Startled by Cort’s booming voice, Gwil toppled off the blade of grass. He stood up, smiling, feeling excited—so much to learn about this shrinking stuff.

Pop.

He grew back. The method he used to escape from the smothering syrup of shrinkiness resembled the strange burst of energy that makes you jump out of bed when you’ve been startled awake. The instant alertness, like when you discover that you’ve overslept on an important day or find that you fell asleep with a bowl of tomato soup and spilled it everywhere.

Cort’s fist filled Gwil’s vision. Pop. He darted between Cort’s legs. Pop. He flicked Cort on the ear. Pop. He dodged Cort’s spinning kick and grabbed hold of his pant leg as it passed overhead.

Gwil grew back, wrenching Cort’s leg upward, causing them both to fall to the ground.

“Nice, nice,” Cort said. “You’re doing it. That’ll be killer once you get it down.”

Gwil shrank—that felt much more natural than growing back to size. The syrup pooled around him constantly, another layer of the veil. All he had to do was dive in.

He stayed in place as Cort turned, anticipating another reversal. Pop. Gwil shot up and smacked Cort in the back of the head.

Cort tried to grab him, but Gwil shrank again, then moved in close and hit Cort in the ribs. Pop. He accidentally grew to waist height this time and punched Cort in the stomach. Pop.

“Shit!” Gwil squealed. “I’m stuck!”

That frantic sensation that he’d been clinging to had vanished. Gwil doubled over, gasping for breath, only now realizing that he felt exhausted and woozy.

He let his Nirva flow fully. He’d been keeping it at bay so he wouldn’t accidentally punch a hole through Cort’s body. The voice sang as the soothing fire surged through his veins, revitalizing his limbs.

There we go. But no. Gwil gritted his teeth. He still couldn’t grow back. He flailed his arms as if drowning, then jumped up and down.

Cort knelt down, looming like a building, and started laughing. “Leira is gonna be fuming.”

Gwil gulped. “Dammit. I thought I fixed this.”

“Because you messed around for fifteen minutes?” Cort said, scoffing. “What a joke. You can’t expect this to come easy. I expect you’ll spend your whole life learning about these powers.”

“Maybe if I swim around in some ztuff. Pour me a little puddle of it, would you?”

“No,” Cort said, sitting down on the ground to watch. “Grow back on your own.

Pacing back and forth, Gwil grabbed his wrist and began tugging at his arm, trying to stretch it out. So annoying. He did some jumping jacks, trying to grab at the air and pull himself into bigness. He imagined the feeling of missing the last step on a staircase. Then the weightless sensation of losing your footing whilst barreling down a hill. Nothing.

“I’M AWAKE!” came a quiet, muffled scream that would’ve been blood-curdling if it weren’t smothered by a pile of dirt and fifty meters of distance.

Pop. Like a reflex. Gwil looked around and wiped his brow upon seeing that he was indeed normal sized.

“Ha! She put the fear of god into you,” Cort said.

“We’re coming, Leira!” Gwil screamed as he ran to her. Cort chased after him.

Gwil stumbled to a halt and then grabbed their makeshift shovel and started flinging away scoops of dirt. Cort knelt on the ground and dug with his hands.

The earth shifted at Leira’s thrashing. Her muddy, grinning face emerged through a shower of dirt. The eyeflower had bloomed anew. Its crimson pigment was vibrant, shiny as blood.

“I feel wonderful!” she said, laughing and wiping her eyes clear. “Super refreshed. Hurry up and free my legs.”

“Hey Leira!” Gwil said, tossing the shovel aside to help her squirm free. She climbed up and sat on the edge of the pit, her legs dangling in the hole.

“That’s good,” Cort said. “’Cause we need to leave right away.”

“Tch! What’d you guys do? We’re not leaving until I eat. Ugh! I’m freezing cold and soaking wet.”

She reeked of damp earth. Her clothes were stained completely black, and her skin and hair were smeared and clumped with mud.

“It rained a lot,” Gwil said, helping her to her feet.

“We have two days to cross the Stormlands,” Cort said. “Or we’ll get pummeled by a storm.”

“How’d you know that?” Leira said while arching her back to stretch.

“We met a local,” Gwil said. “He could breathe fire, and he had a dog.”

Leira frowned. “I missed a dog?”

“You can eat turkey while we walk,” Cort said. “We have a fridge now. Hurry up and get dressed.”

Leira pirouetted her way over to her backpack, moving as if flowing with the wind.

“Why the fuck is my backpack full of… ztuff?” Leira said, while searching for a change of clothes.

“Ooh! Leira, do you wanna feel zooper refreshed?” Gwil said. “Try it, you’ll love it.”

“Hm?” She unscrewed the cap and squirted a dab of ztuff onto her tongue.

Her face twisted. “Eww, this is fucking disgu- oh wait, no. I love it! Yum, so spicy!”

Leira washed herself off in the basin that Cort had set up to collect fresh rainwater, then changed clothes while they readied to leave.

“What did being buried actually do for you?” Cort asked.

“Hmm,” Leira said, finishing an entire tube of ztuff in a single pull. “Anything that a plant can do, I can do better.”

They strapped on their backpacks—along with the jetpack, the Kaia torch, and the fridge—and gave the camp a final once over.

Then, they set out down the fractured road that cut through the town. Ahead, intermittent green lightning crackled to life across the churning horizon that was the storm wall.

So ends the Third Tale:

Sleeping Dogs Lie