After some brief introductions, David watched as Tom and Lucas shuffled awkwardly, the tension from their earlier freak-out still hanging in the air like a fart in an elevator. Lucas, the hawk-man, cleared his throat and fixed David with a sheepish look.

"Look, man, I'm really sorry about losing my shit earlier. I don't usually bitch out like that, but something about you made me feel like I was staring into the abyss. And the abyss was wearing jewelry and grinning back at me."

David grumbled, his ears twitching in irritation. "Yeah, well, I get that a lot. Apology accepted, I guess."

Lucas nodded, relief washing over his feathered face. After a moment of awkward silence, he piped up again. "So, uh, is it a Mutagen thing? Or an Ability? Some kind of Evolution-based jazz? Or am I just losing my touch?"

David's eyes narrowed slightly, remembering Azanah's less-than-friendly plans. "Oh, you know, it's just my natural charm," he deflected, grinning toothily.

Claire snorted, the ground trembling slightly beneath them. "Natural charm, my scaly ass. David's been scaring the piss out of people since I've known him. It's a talent."

"Speaking of scared shitless," Claire continued, turning her massive head towards Tom, "is your screaming friend going to be a problem? Should we expect an army of pissed-off people descending on us any minute now?"

Tom shifted from foot to foot, his scaled body rustling nervously. "Yeah, about that... They might actually be doing just that. Give me a second to head that off."

The stork-man straightened up, extending his long neck skyward. He took a deep breath, and then...

HOOOOOONK.

The sound that erupted from Tom's beak was so deep and powerful that David could barely hear it, but he sure as hell could feel it. It was like standing next to a subwoofer at a concert, if the DJ was a possessed foghorn. The vibrations rattled David's bones and made his fur stand on end.

Claire's eyes widened in surprise, her massive head swaying slightly from the sheer force of the sound. David couldn't help but stare, slack-jawed, at the incongruous sight of this massive noise coming from Tom's relatively slender body.

Lucas, apparently unfazed by the earth-shaking racket, fluttered his wings and yelled over the din. "What's the matter? Never seen a long-distance communication ability before?"

David had to raise his voice to a near-shout to be heard. "I saw one up for grabs once, but I didn't take it because... reasons!" He neglected to mention his solo Boss-killing mission and his priorities at the time.

No need to give away too much information.

"Hey, Lucas!" David bellowed, "How far does Tom's range go?"

"A few miles, at least!" Lucas shouted back.

David, curiosity piqued, took a deep breath. "How far with Wildsoul Empowerment?"

Lucas's eyes scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"I said, how far with Wildsoul Empowerment?" David repeated, louder this time.

"WHAT?" Lucas squawked, clearly still unable to hear.

David, frustration mounting, sucked in a massive lungful of air and prepared to yell at the top of his lungs. "HOW FAR IS THE RANGE USING WILD-"

Suddenly, Tom's earth-shaking honk cut off, leaving David's voice echoing stupidly loud across the now-silent swamp.

"-SOUL?!" David finished lamely, his words ringing across the terrain.

Claire's giggle rumbled through the ground. "Can you hear me now?" she quipped, her massive teeth bared in a grin.

David shot her an exasperated look, but before he could retort, Lucas piped up, confusion evident in his voice. "What the fuck is a Wildsoul? Is that some ability that's so good you guys consider it standard? Like how we consider certain things baseline?"

David and Claire exchanged a loaded glance, their silent communication speaking volumes. Tom, ever observant, caught the look immediately.

The stork-man cleared his throat, a sound that could only be described as a rusty gate being dragged through a xylophone thanks to his absurdly long neck. "I've contacted the Flightmaster and explained the situation," he said, then promptly thumped Lucas with his beak. "And you," he added, fixing Lucas with a critical stare, "need to stop giving away information for free."

Turning back to David, Tom continued, "It's not personal, you understand. Information is the only real currency these days. We trade in secrets."

David's ears perked up. "In that case, you owe me two. I already explained Wildsoul manipulation to Azanah. Didn't she tell you guys? I literally watched her figure out the basics before she left."

Tom and Lucas exchanged worried glances. "If she told anyone," Lucas said slowly, "we never heard about it."

He shrugged, feathers slicking down slightly. "They're probably running it through testing before holding an announcement or workshop. That's usually how we do things."

Claire's interest piqued. "You always do that?"

Lucas nodded and opened his beak to elaborate, but Tom pecked him again. Lucas shot the stork-man a glare that could have curdled milk, his feathers rising in irritation.

Tom shook his head, exasperated. "We take our knowledge gathering and bartering very seriously," he explained to David. "Some people's entire job is to pick up new abilities and Mutagens for testing. There's basically a sign-up sheet for people with tokens, but that's all I'll say for now."

He fixed David with a pointed stare. "If you gave away something good to Azanah, that's your business. But..." Tom clacked his beak in a way eerily reminiscent of Claire's jaw-clacking, "Azanah's going to be in some deep shit if she's keeping something to herself. We benefit too much from shared knowledge for that kind of selfishness."

David couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Had he inadvertently caused trouble for Azanah? Then again, she had been planning to ambush them, so maybe a little karmic retribution wasn't such a bad thing.

Before he had time to really get going, he was assaulted by a mental barrage of pings.

David's ears twitched as he processed the information from his Cuddlebug scouts. The main nomad group had erupted into controlled chaos, like an anthill that had been stirred with a stick made of pure efficiency. The strange multi-eyed, multi-eared creature was at the center of it all, directing the flow like a conductor leading a very bizarre orchestra.

He watched through his minions' eyes as the 'boss' galloped through the convoy, making a beeline for...

Holy crap, is that a tortoise? A tortoise with a tent on its back? Damn, that things bigger than Claire, how did I not notice that guy before?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

David blinked, momentarily distracted by the absurdity of it all. The tent looked like it had been woven by a spider with a drinking problem and terrible taste in interior design.

The boss-beast scrambled onto the tortoise's back and disappeared into the tent, leaving David's spy with no good way to follow without being spotted. Guards swarmed around the plodding creature as it lumbered towards the middle-back of the group, which, impressively, hadn't stopped moving for even a second.

Suddenly, David's mind was bombarded with even greater intensity by his Cuddlebugs, all vying for his attention like a litter of kittens that had just discovered catnip. He struggled to bounce between viewpoints as the convoy reshaped itself into a rough delta formation with frightening speed. Smaller groups of flyers peeled away, clearly heading in their direction.

"Uh, dude? You okay there?" Lucas's voice cut through David's mental juggling act. "You're drooling a little bit. And, uh, is it supposed to be smoking like that?"

Claire's bark snapped David back to reality. "Get a grip on that, David!"

David quickly licked his chops, not wanting to accidentally Miasma anyone with the wisps of smoke billowing away in the breeze. "Sorry, got distracted," he muttered, then fixed Tom with a sharp stare. "So, why is the main group scrambling so hard right now? What did you tell them, exactly?"

Tom froze, looking like he'd just been caught with his beak in the cookie jar. He babbled for a moment before finally spitting out, "I-I did exactly what I said! I told them I'd run into the Bat Azanah met before."

David's suspicion ratcheted up a notch, but Lucas quickly jumped in. "Hey, we don't get up to shit, if that's what you're implying."

As David weighed his options, a low rumble rolled across the landscape. Tom's head jerked up, his long neck stretching comically as he listened to the changing pitches and tones. David used the moment to flap back onto Claire's back, trying (and failing) to look casual.

"If these guys try anything weird," he muttered to Claire, "we're fucking off with extreme prejudice. Too many things aren't adding up."

Claire's quiet agreement rumbled through her massive frame. "Yeah, something's definitely off. I can't put my claws on it, but..."

The rumbling finally ceased, and Tom turned back to them, worry etched across his beaky face. "Our leader, Esmeralda the Entrepreneur, requests a conference with you."

David's response was as flat as week-old soda. "Nah, I'm good."

Tom looked like someone had just told him his favorite perch had been chopped down. "We really aren't up to anything, I swear!" he insisted, his sincerity palpable. "It's bad business to harass potential customers or, you know, kidnap and imprison people. Esmeralda is actually pretty nice, just... very business-minded."

He paused, then added, "If your 'technique' is really as good as you say, and you really know Overseers, she probably just wants to do business with you." After a moment, he admitted, "She does get a little bit... excited sometimes."

David snorted, his wings twitching nervously. "Excited? What, does she start laying golden eggs or something? Also, giving herself a title? That's a little weird, dude."

Lucas chuckled nervously. "More like she gets dollar signs in her eyes and starts planning expansions to her empire before the ink's dry on the contract."

Claire rumbled thoughtfully. "How... charming."

David's mind raced, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. On one hand, these nomads clearly had resources and information that could be valuable. On the other, the last time he trusted an overt weirdo he’d ended up getting the end of his wing shot off by a crazy owl.

"Look," David said finally, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not exactly in a trusting mood right now. How about we start small? You tell me a bit more about your group, and I'll consider meeting with your boss..."

Tom and Lucas exchanged glances, clearly torn between their duty to their leader and the potential of losing this opportunity.

"Alright," Tom said slowly, "what do you want to know?"

David grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the swamp's filtered light. "Oh, you know, just the basics. How many of you are there? What's your goal? And most importantly, do you have any good snacks? A bat gets hungry out here in the wilderness."

As Tom began to cautiously answer some of his questions, Claire kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The air was thick with tension and the promise of... something.

David listened intently as the man launched into what was clearly a well-rehearsed spiel about their organization, which he referred to as the "Wandering Wares Caravan." His delivery was flawless, like a used car salesman who'd practiced his pitch in the mirror a thousand times. David couldn't help but notice Lucas mouthing along, his eyes glazed over with boredom.

"...and that's why the Wandering Wares Caravan is your one-stop shop for all your post-apocalyptic needs!" Tom finished with a flourish of his wings.

Definitely something they're trained to do. That's interesting, maybe they're legit. I mean it makes sense, you'd have to be an idiot to mess with this many people when their whole deal is knowing how things work.

Claire, ever the practical one, jumped in with a series of pointed questions. "How do you handle security? What's your policy on new members? Most importantly, how do you decide what information is worth trading?"

Tom and Lucas took turns answering, their responses smooth and practiced. David found himself both impressed and slightly unnerved by their polished demeanor.

Just as the conversation began to lull, a familiar high-pitched whistle caught everyone's attention. The flying squirrel scout had returned, this time with two more groups of three in tow. As they approached, David couldn't help but notice the scout's bizarrely elongated limbs and the bioluminescent patches dotting its fur.

The new arrivals reacted to David with varying degrees of caution. Most muttered among themselves, shooting wary glances his way. However, one voice rose above the rest:

"Holy shit, that bat dude looks metal as fuck!"

David felt a small surge of pride.

At least someone appreciates my look.

Tom and Lucas, meanwhile, were doubled over in laughter, wings splayed helplessly as they gasped for air. The flying squirrel, looking thoroughly unamused, spoke up in a voice that was shockingly deep and smooth – a far cry from his earlier teakettle shriek.

"If you two are quite finished," he rumbled, "we have business to discuss."

As the group settled into a more serious conversation, David found himself weighing his options. After a few minutes of deliberation, he spoke up.

"Alright, I'll meet this Esmeralda of yours," he said, holding up a wing to forestall any celebration. "But she comes to us. I'm not walking into the middle of your caravan without getting to know you better first."

Lucas cocked his head, curiosity evident in his beady eyes. "Bad experiences with groups or something?"

Claire's massive head swung towards the hawk-man, her voice rumbling like distant thunder. "We flattened a slaving operation a few weeks back. And more recently, some psycho owl tried to kill us the same way it murdered one of your scouts."

Lucas's feathers bristled, his talons digging into the swampy soil. "Slavers?" he spat. "Yeah, that's a damn good reason to be leery."

David nodded grimly. "Look, I'd rather have friends than enemies. But at this point, I'm more of a 'trust but verify' kind of bat."

Tom nodded, then stretched his long neck skyward. "I'll relay the conditions to Esmeralda."

HOOOOOONK.

David flattened his ears, wincing at the volume. Even from a short distance, Tom's communication ability was uncomfortably loud.

Note to self: invest in earplugs if we stick around these guys.

As they waited for a response, the group attempted to mingle. David couldn't help but notice how every question seemed carefully crafted to extract information. It was like being at a networking event where everyone was trying to subtly figure out your net worth.

Finally, Tom's honking ceased. A short rumble rang across the landscape after a few moments, cutting off as abruptly as it has begun. He turned to David, looking slightly winded. "Esmeralda has agreed to meet you away from the main group. She'll have a few guards with her, of course."

David nodded, his wings twitching slightly with nervous energy. "Alright then. Let's get down to business."

As the group began to make preparations for the meeting, David caught Claire's eye. They shared a silent moment of understanding; they needed to learn anything they could, but carefully.

The swamp around them seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the significance of this moment. In the distance, the sounds of the approaching caravan grew steadily louder. David took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

This was it. The moment that could change everything – or blow up in their faces spectacularly.

As they moved to follow Tom and Lucas to the designated meeting spot, David couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. New allies could be invaluable in this world. But if things went south...

Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Or burn it down. Whichever seems more appropriate at the time.

With a final shared glance, David and Claire set off, ready to face whatever this Esmeralda and her Wandering Caravan had in store for them. The air crackled with possibility, and David couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping into something big.

Only time would tell if it was opportunity knocking, or just another apocalyptic clusterfuck waiting to happen.