Goosebumps prickled over Neil’s skin, raised by the cooling evening wind. He breathed deeply through his nose, savoring the smells of grass and pollen. Breezes like these were few and far between these last hours, and Neil treasured each one.

Neil was surprised to learn that caravans had a distinct smell to them. Traveling for days on end brought few opportunities for bathing, and even when there were, a merchant’s deadlines were more important to them than their hygiene.

The musk of horses, dung, straw, and smoke clung to one’s senses. And to one’s clothes. New or not, Neil’s jacket already smelled like a gamey old dog.

A difficult scent to ignore, made worse by the fact that Neil wasn’t trying to ignore it. He breathed in deep, folding it into the cultivated halo of serenity enveloping his consciousness.

Neil was meditating. Trying to meditate, at least. Like he was trying to ride a horse.

His eyes were closed. Aura was an independent-minded creature, and he trusted that she knew where to go. Still, it wasn’t an ideal setup.

The sun shone through his eyelids, burning bloody orange. His legs hurt. His back hurt more. His tongue was dry and sounds thundered all around him, each one begging for his attention.

The staccatoed ‘clopping’ of hooves on dirt was the most prevalent noise, and the easiest to let drift across his mind. Work-horses made up most of it—with the odd donkey at the back of the line.

Theoretically, the distractions would be good for him. Spellwork required clarity of mind, clarity of mind required practice, and practice required challenges.

“Are you taking a nap?” A high and earnest voice called from the ground beside him.

Fortunately—or was that unfortunately?—there were few creatures alive better at causing distractions than Cruciatus Vulgaris.

“If I were napping,” said Neil, in an even tone. “Would I be able to tell you about it?”

Cruciatus Vulgaris—better known amongst the lay-folk as the common neck pain—was a distracting creature indeed. They were like regular people, only smaller, dumber, and asked a lot of silly questions.

“I dunno,” said the child. “Would you?”

The corner of Neil’s lip pulled back into a half smile.

There wasn’t a whole lot of conversation to be had, on the road. The silence cultivated by two dozen weary travelers resisted Neil’s every attempt to break it. The caravaneers were a dour, thoughtful people. Nice enough, but in a geriatric sort of way.

Most of these folks were old. Some were obviously grandparents, caring for their little hellions while their own kids fought and died in the crusade. That was his running theory, anyway, but he’d never be able to confirm it if the geezers never talked to him.

He’d take what he could get.

“I’m napping,” he admitted, biting the inside of his cheek. “You caught me.”

“Are you sure?” The child asked, sounding closer, now. “You don’t look like you’re napping. Not anymore, I mean.”

Neil remained mindful of his breathing. Mindful enough to not snort at the kid, anyway.

“Pretty sure,” he said, eyes still closed as bent forward, facing where he thought the child might be. “See?” He waggled his eyebrows.

He liked kids. They were easy to talk to, easy to get a laugh out of, and easy to manage, as long as you kept them in small doses. In another life, he would have been a teacher—guiding the little cretins into being a little less awful.

It’s not like there was much else he could do with a history degree.

And, for whatever reason, kids tended to like him back. There’s no accounting for taste, Neil supposed. He’d send this one back to its keeper in a moment.

“I don’t know…” the kid sounded skeptical. “Are you pretending to be napping?”

Neil sighed, and his meditation was abandoned.

…

…

“Did you sick Ernest on me?” Neil asked, siding up to June.

Her horse was gray, and Neil wasn’t sure he ever learned its name. It was an even-tempered creature, with intelligent eyes and a kind face. It looked at him as he approached, nodding its head as if skeptical of him.

Its rider didn’t even do that much.

“Who?” Her voice was high and innocent, her eyes kept forward.

Neil smirked.

“Ernest,” he repeated. “Cute kid, yea tall, favorite color’s orange?”

“Oh,” she frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Ernest,” Neil rolled his eyes. “I hope you won’t make me say his name again. If Beetlejuice was anything to go by, the hellion’ll pop up any second now.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You know his favorite color? What are you, besties?”

“That’s not important,” Neil waved a dismissive hand. “Little Ernie says you wanted to talk to me?”

“Did he really?” June said.

She did not, Neil noticed, sound pleased. The default tone of her voice often registered as a dry sarcasm—it was one of the things Neil liked most about her—but this was another thing entirely. She sounded pissed.

“Sweet of him to pass that along.” She finished, in the same tone.

“You doing okay, bud?” Neil asked, keeping his tone light.

“Never better.” She said quickly, pitch—and chin—lilting ever-higher.

Neil pursed his lips. Her tone had a mocking cadence to it that he recognized. She used it on Argus all the time. Neil thought of it as her, ‘I resent the fact that I have to be polite to you’ voice. It was high and fast, like she was spitting the words from her mouth as quickly as she could get them out.

“So…” he led. “Did you want to tell me about something?”

“Not anymore,” She looked away, though Neil could still see the wistful smile passing across her face. “What’d you and little Ernie talk about?”

“Kid stuff,” Neil shrugged. “He asked me if I was really a Hero, I asked him if he was always this talkative, stuff like that.”

June hummed, still not looking at Neil. He frowned.

“I asked him if he had a favorite dinosaur,” Neil winced. “You know, 'cause he’s, like, ten years old, right? I loved dinosaurs when I was his age. Only, he’s never even heard of them before. So I tell him that they’re these giant ancient lizards, kind of like dragons. Then I remembered that I also loved dragons when I was his age, so I asked him if he had a favorite one of those.”

He shook his head.

“Turns out that dragons aren’t really popular around here,” he shrugged. “He gave me this look—like I’d grown a second head—and he ran off to go bother someone else. Weird, huh?”

June glanced at him, lips pulled back in a half smile. “Duh,” she said. “Dragons aren’t ever the good guys in the stories. That’d be like asking a mouse what its favorite kind of snake is.”

“You and I clearly read different stories growing up.” Neil smiled.

At this, she only shrugged, turning her attention forward once again.

“You know, I always thought that kids were easy to talk to,” he kept his eyes intent on the raven-haired girl. “Unlike some people I could mention. What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing, ‘dude,’” she huffed, giving him a side-eye. “I’m chilling, ‘bro.’”

“Oh, you’re ‘chilling?’ Is that what this is?” Neil waved a hand, smirking. “And here I thought you were giving me the cold shoulder.”

June stared at him, unblinking.

“Are you…” Neil spoke slowly, tilting his head to the side. “Mad at me for some reason?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Now she blinked at him: once, hard, and with a cutting languor.

“I don’t get it,” he continued, frowning. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m nailing my half of this conversation. What gives?”

“Why don’t you go ask Ernie?” She asked, casting her gaze forward.

“I… did,” Neil blinked at the woman. “He told me you sent him my way—are you seriously mad at me right now?”

At this, she said nothing. Neil urged Aura forward, craning his head to get a better look at his friend’s face.

‘Oh dear god, is she pouting?’ His eyebrows shot upwards.

“Alright,” Neil said slowly. “Do you want space, or—”

Storming were the eyes of the raven-haired woman, flashing upon him with startling vigor.

“—Oh, fuck off, I’m not mad at you,” June’s tone was aggressive. “I’m bored, Neil. I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last three hours, and you’ve just been sitting there with your eyes closed like a dickhead.”

“Oh,” Neil blinked. “I was just trying to—”

“—Meditate?” She interrupted him again, scowling. “On a horse? For three hours?”

“Not three hours straight,” he shifted in his saddle, lips tugging downwards as he looked away. “I never really sank into it. It was just passing the time, mostly.”

“Passing the—” she shook her head, visibly annoyed. “I felt like an asshole sitting up here by myself. You don’t think it’s weird that no one is talking to us?”

Neil didn’t think so. If someone told him that he was under the protection of a band of Heroes, and what he got was a ragtag crew of college-aged kids in second-hand armor, he’d be pissed.

“What do you want to talk about, June?” He asked, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “Magic? Adventure? Have you seen any good movies lately?”

“I don’t want your pity small-talk,” she scowled. “I just thought it would have been nice to have some company right now.”

“I don’t…” Neil squinted at her. “I don’t see how I can win here. You want to talk to me, but you don’t want to talk to me? How’s that supposed to work?”

“No,” she corrected him, raising her voice, “I wanted to talk to you three hours ago. Then you told me to fuck off!”

Neil’s shoulders raised of their own volition. “I politely asked you for some space! I need my meditation practice!”

“On a horse!” She scowled, letting go of her reins to splay her arms wide. “Do you have any idea how stupid that looks?”

“Why are you mad at me?” Neil copied her gesture. “And why are we shouting at each other?!”

“I’m not—” she cut herself off mid-shout.

June worked her jaw silently for a moment, clearly biting the inside of her cheek. He stared back, lips pressed into a thin line.

She was the first to look away, letting out a deep breath and sagging in her saddle. “I don’t know, Neil. I’m in a weird mood, I guess.”

They rode on in silence for a few more moments, inching along with the caravan. Neil turned, spotting more than one caravaneer giving them some not-so-subtle glances.

He could only sigh.

…

…

“So you just left her there?” Pete raised his eyebrows at him. “After all that?”

Peter was stationed towards the back of the caravan. June was out of earshot, but Neil could still see her silhouetted in the distance, sitting on her gray blur of a horse.

“I don’t know, man.” Neil rubbed the bridge of his nose with a free hand. “I guess. I just wanted to take a break from all this meditation bullshit, and she just ambushed me within all this—” he gestured vaguely and aggressively, “—drama! What was I supposed to do?”

“You think I’d know?” Pete’s eyebrows rose once more. “You know I’m only seventeen, right? I’m not exactly swimming in life experience.”

“I’ve been seventeen before, so I know you have an opinion,” Neil countered. “My instincts are telling me to apologize, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Did I?”

Peter shifted back his saddle. “I don’t know, dude, can’t you just ask her what’s wrong?”

“I did, though!” Neil didn’t raise the volume so much as the intensity of his voice. “She just said she was in a ‘weird mood.’ What’s that even mean?”

“I feel like you’d know better than I would.” Pete shrugged, running a hand back through his blonde hair. “Aren’t you two…”

He gestured around Neil’s body with a vague circular motion.

“No,” Neil said, flatly. “We’re just friends.”

“Are you sure, though?” Pete said in a high voice, expression tight around the eyes.

“I think I’d know if we weren’t.”

“Okay…” said Pete, rocking his head from side to side. “Does she know that?”

“I think so,” Neil waved a hand, exasperated. “But if she doesn’t, then I kind of feel like that’s her problem!”

Again, Neil was careful not to raise his voice past a certain volume. The caravaneers were a quiet people, but that didn’t mean that there wasn't any gossip among them. As a result, Neil’s voice came out as a sort of whispering scream.

Pete said nothing, expression growing strained as he looked back at Neil.

“It’s not— I’m not— we’re—” Neil shook his head. “If June wants to have an adult conversation about our relationship, she’s free to initiate it, but I’m done with this high school bullshit.”

Pete was fully wincing at him now.

“Oh, come on!” Said Neil helplessly, splaying his hands. “Don’t we have more important stuff to worry about right now? The fate of the world? The existential implications of literal gods hanging around? Surviving?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude,” Pete shrugged. “Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong, but… as someone recently familiar with ‘high school bullshit,’ you’ve either got to take a step back, or cut straight through the nonsense. You really don’t like her like that?”

“It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just—” he shook his head. “Look, I’m not gonna go into my romantic history with you, but I’m tired of the mess, alright? The tangled wires, the knotted stomachs, the fuckups on both sides… and maybe this is just me being jaded, but when I look at her like that, all I can see is the mess.”

“Wow,” Pete blinked at him. “No offense, dude, but that’s kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Neil sighed, letting go of his reins to massage his face with both hands. “I’ll get over it at some point, but… I just want friends, you know? Is that too much to ask for?”

Pete shrugged again, scratching the back of his head, saying nothing.

“Then I guess I’d better hope you’re reading the situation wrong.” Neil muttered.

…

…

June didn’t look at Neil as he rode back up to her. She pointedly didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained high and forward, but Neil could feel the weight of her attention on him like a lead coffin.

“Hey, bud,” spoke Neil, in a delicate voice. “You doing okay?”

“Hey,” she breathed out, sounding tired. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Good,” Neil nodded, inhaling through his teeth and smacking his lips. “I’m good.”

God, he hated this. Hated Pete for putting all those thoughts in his head. Couldn’t they just be friends? Weren’t they?

“Do you want to… talk?” He asked, a thunderstorm roiling in his stomach.

“Not really,” June sighed. “No offense, I just… I’m thinking too much, you know? I’m not used to having this much time on my hands, and it’s messing with my head.”

“I hear meditation can help with that.” Neil said, half smiling.

June looked at him—finally—with a tightness around her eyes and the ghost of a smirk playing across her lips. “Don’t even get me started with that shit, dude.”

Neil shrugged, smiling more freely now.

“Careful with the cursing,” he said in a light voice. “Ernest is lurking somewhere around here, and he seems like the type of kid that gets magnetized by adult language.”

“Oh, Ernest,” June raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you and him were besties?”

“Not since the great dinosaur-dragon mixup of…” Neil checked his unadorned wrist. “Twenty-ish minutes ago.”

“That’s right,” she smiled, mischief flickering like candlelight in her dark eyes. “You outed yourself to me as a dinosaur boy. Were you a T-Rex or a stegosaurus kind of kid?”

“I was a human boy, first of all,” Neil corrected, eyebrows raised. “The dinosaurs were just a hobby. And my favorite was the brachiosaurus, thank-you-very-much.”

“Uh-huh,” June smirked. “Is it true that all dinosaur boys turn out to be really into cars when they grow up?”

“Pff,” Neil scoffed. “Says the horse girl, literally from her high horse.”

“I am not a horse girl.”

“Neigh,” said Neil. “I think you are.”

They frowned at each other in challenge, lips quirked into the barest hint of a shared—though repressed—smile.