Yarrow sat with his back to the river and his staff in his lap as he watched Elies make an ass of himself. While he was smarter than Ayko, he was still dumb enough not to realize how much he suffered in Ilta’s presence.

Elies’ freckled face fell as Ilta dug through his pockets, snatching his last cigarette and setting it ablaze. “You could at least share,” he groaned, eyeing the smoldering parchment hungrily.

Ilta stepped away from him, leaning against a tree and slouching down. “That’s not how our relationship works.”

Relationship? Yarrow thought, glaring. He looked at Ashencrane, who sat on her knees beside him, her eyes shut. “What do you think, dear? Demon or not?”

“Pathetic is what she is,” Ashencrane replied. “She’s just a scared dog showing her teeth.” She shook her head. “She doesn’t even know how to use them.”

“Hmm.” Yarrow fixed his gaze on Ilta again. Perhaps Reina was right, then. Better yet, perhaps Elies knew that himself? His eyes darkened as he watched the boy reach for his cigarette, the girl landing a kick on his shin in turn. Yelping in pain, Elies then hobbled away. “Gods almighty, of course, he doesn’t know,” the old adventurer grumbled.

Ashencrane heaved a sigh. “Wrong priorities, love. What about the boy? Poor taste in women aside, does he tickle your fancy or not?”

Yarrow nodded, eyeing Elies, who rubbed his shin while spewing obscenities. “He’s far from a lost cause. Assuming little Haze is still as green as he is?”

“She’s still a terrible wizard,” Ashencrane said dryly.

“Then Elies will be more than a match for her,” Yarrow said.

“Precisely,” Ashencrane said. “You’ve done all you can, so rest. You’ve earned at least that much.”

Yarrow grunted and shut his eye, the sound of Elies and Ilta’s bickering fading. “Amarant has found you.” Reina had said. The fact that a blade hadn’t pricked his ribcage yet meant he still had time, enough to further mold his new apprentice, at least. The old adventurer planted his staff and slowly rose to his feet. “I cannot,” he said. “Elies!”

The red-haired wizard ceased his cursing and turned his head, flinching as Yarrow approached. “I’m afraid our training isn’t finished yet,” the old adventurer said.

Elies slumped his shoulders and eyed Ilta, who smirked. “Bollocks!” he cried.

***********

Ayko jumped for joy when the last ice shards chipped away, turning to mist as Haze’s spell cracked them to bits. Her skin burned him when he threw his arms around her, but he ignored the searing pain just this once.

“Love you much!” Ayko exclaimed, patting her shoulders when he pulled away. Upon hearing those words, his friend’s face turned an intense shade of red.

“T-thank that girl, too,” Hazelmere squeaked, looking away.

“Some other time!” Ayko took her hand in his and whirled around. “Arzen and that Wolfcat come first.”

Hazelmere matched his haste, stammering but allowing him to hold onto her. “Just…listen to me this time, please.”

Ayko nodded. “You can hex me if I don’t.”

“Huh?” Hazelmere gasped, flinching away. She swallowed but gave a hesitant nod. “I’ll…be your eyes and ears again.”

Ayko sprinted ahead, releasing Hazelmere’s hand from his grasp. “I hear them!” Hazelmere gasped. “Further ahead!”

Ayko grinned as he hastened ahead, kicking snow into the air and pushing through the low-hanging foliage. Scrapes plastered his skin along with snow and ice from the sky’s wintry bombardment, yet he swatted it from his face without a second thought. Blood, snow, ice—none mattered when he felt the ground rumbling beneath his boots.

He stumbled forward, nearly falling into the flowered thorns of Dawnet bushes before Hazelmere caught the back of his cloak. She placed a hand over his mouth, pulled him upward, and put a finger to her lips.

“There,” Hazelmere whispered, pointing to her right.

Ayko followed her lead, creeping to a tangled knot of bare branches. Squinting, he peered through one of the few cracks to see the lower half of the skulking behemoth’s silhouette stomp past. He twirled his claymore, proceeding to hack away at the surrounding brush.

Ayko smirked and backed away. The brute lost his prey, it seemed. “I’m at your beck and call, remember?” he said, turning to Hazelmere. The accusing look on her face showed she thought he’d ignore her again. “I am rational sometimes,” Ayko snorted.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Hazelmere smiled and turned away, her eyes scanning the branches hanging overhead.

Ayko followed her gaze; dangling from the trees and swaying in the wind were the only fruits worse than Peppergrapes—black, globe-shaped spawns of Erina called Ovlo. The clacking of their rock-like shells smashing into one another overpowered the wind’s shrill, hag-like screech.

“We can’t fight him,” Hazelmere said. She reached into her cloak and took out her wand. “Not directly.”

The young man resisted the urge to smack his lips. Sneaking was a coward’s game and, more than that, no fun. His brow twitched as he further eyed the branches--he couldn’t climb with their “friend” looming around. He pressed his lips together. “It’s your move,” he said, showing his hands. “No magic.”

Hazelmere nodded and slowly lifted her wand. Zephyriere, she breathed. Her hand trembled as she traced her new weapon through the air, the fruits swinging wildly before one finally gave. Gulping, she reeled the wand back next. Zephyra.

Misty ribbons coiled around the hurtling fruit, holding it in the air as Hazelmere slowly moved her hand to the left. Exhaling, she cleaved it through the air and to the back of Arzen’s helmet, the wind whistling as it shot his way.

Arzen stopped and whirled around, the midnight-hued melon mashing his face. He crashed onto his back, his helmet dented and covered in seed-filled goop. His claymore fell from his limp hand, and ice crystals exploded from his armor next, bleaching his steel shell white before it crumbled away like an assortment of blocks.

“Horsepiss! He’s an elemental?” Ayko gasped. He and Hazelmere burst from behind the branches and stood over the pile of ice chips taking his place. “Chestplate won’t be that mad, will he?”

Hazelmere didn’t answer. Her ears twitched, and she looked up, landing on top of him with a panicked grunt.

Ayko gave her a queer look as she lifted herself off of him, allowing him to see the frosted spines bursting from the ground. Branches snapped, and trees tumbled, revealing Arzen’s towering frame.

The behemoth stepped from the ruined foliage and hacked his claymore through the air while Ayko jumped to his feet. More ice stakes erupted from the snow, tearing the young man’s sleeve when he jumped to Hazelmere’s side.

“Bastard!” Ayko barked, readying his sword. He held an arm in front of Hazelmere and sprinted forward, his blade smashing into his claymore. Ice crystals climbed up his forearms, forcing him to leap away.

Arzen grunted and turned to Hazelmere, the half-elf’s eyes swelling. She readied her wand when he twirled his blade.

“Eyes front, you sod!” Ayko barked. He raised his sword over his head and hacked at the behemoth’s helmet.

Arzen palmed the young man’s face and tossed him away, sending him hurtling into the brush with a pained grunt. Crossing his claymores together, he raised his head as Ayko skittered from the bushes, sword pointing outward. Bloodied nicks marking his skin, he roared with fury.

A concerned look riddled Hazelmere’s face, and she stretched out her hand. “He’s the real one! Don’t kill him!”

Ayko shot her glance. What was she on about? Shaking his head, he turned his blade backward and threw himself into the behemoth’s steel-clad gut with all his weight.

A muffled grunt echoed from Arzen’s helmet, and he fell onto the snow, with Ayko following suit.

The young man winced and jumped to his feet, sword still in hand. He raised it again and clenched his jaw. “Tap, already!” He shouted, repeatedly jamming the hilt into the dent on Arzen’s torso.

Arzen arched his back and clenched his fists with each strike but planted an elbow on Ayko’s jaw. Blood spurted from his cheek, leaving a trail as he hit the ground. The behemoth rose, clutching his gut and taking his claymore in his hand again, darting his masked eyes to Hazelmere.

Hazelmere backed away and held up her wand when he stomped towards her, her back meeting the trunk of a downed tree.

“No you don’t!” Ayko threw his arms around Arzen’s waist and planted the toes of his boots in the snow. Veins bulged from his arms, face, and neck as he tightened his grasp and pulled him towards himself.

Arzen raised his left claymore and pelted Ayko over the head with its hilt, a new knot forming on the young man’s head.

Ayko sucked in a pained breath and clasped his fingers together, further wincing as Arzen hammered him. He opened his teary eyes, meeting Hazelmere’s. “Haze, whatever you’re planning, do it now!” He said through clenched teeth.

Hazelmere nodded and raised her wand. Zephyriere! She squeaked.

Arzen slogged forward, falling to one knee when Ayko thumped the dent in his armor. Kicking the young man away, he held his palm out at Hazelmere but craned his neck at the sound of rusting branches.

An Ovlo hurtled from the branches above, causing the behemoth to step aside. With a snort, he held out his hand again, the pale blue symbol further glowing. With a clang, however, he fell to his knees and then tumbled onto his side, his helmet rolling off his head.

Ayko stood over him, clutching a cracked Ovlo in his hands. “Your fight was with me!” He breathed.

He smiled at Hazelmere, resisting the urge to see what lay beneath Arzen’s helmet. Instead, he ran her way and took one of her hands in both of his. “You’re after my heart!” He exclaimed.

Hazelmere’s face reddened, and she darted her eyes to the sides as if looking for somewhere to run, but she looked into Ayko’s eyes and smiled warmly. “I can say the same,” she softly replied. “As wrong-headed as you are at times.”

“W-wrong headed?” Ayko gasped incredulously.

Hazelmere’s ears twitched, and Ayko pulled away and whirled around. It wasn’t Arzen again, was it? Gods knew he didn’t have enough in him for another round.

He felt the gentle tap of her touching his shoulder and turned to face her, following her gaze. Perched atop a severed tree trunk was his prey—the Wolfcat staring back at him. It’s eyes seemed…alive. Calculating and thoughtful.

It tilted its head as Ayko and Hazelmere stared back at it, licking its paw and skittering away. It left a blurred visage in its wake, but its footsteps echoed into the distance.

Hazelmere stepped to Ayko’s side. “The hunt is still on. Shall we?”

Ayko nodded and sprinted after it. “Let’s!”