Brugo offered to take first watch, assuring her that nothing bad would happen to them during the night. She insisted on staying up a little while longer, being suspicious of his motives, but before long, she found herself dozing on the ground, her head propped up on her sack.

The night was not too chill, which was fortunate, because neither of them wanted to risk a fire this close to Torg Uyen. Plus, ever since leaving the town, Anaya’s divining rods had been vibrating at a low frequency, emitting a hum that only she seemed to be able to hear. Along with that vibration came a subtle warmth. It seeped into her bones and lulled her to sleep just as if she had been wrapped tightly in a soft blanket.

Things would get easier once they were out on the open road, and perhaps there would be other travelers they could stick with. That was what she told herself before drifting off into a deep sleep.

Her dreams were filled with images of her people. She saw them smiling, dancing, singing. She saw the brightly colored flags of the caravan whipping in the wind as they crossed the open plains. Her heart soared, every fiber of her being wishing that she could be with them, even in her subconscious.

At last, her grandmother appeared in her dreams, reaching out for her. She looked frail, and for the first time, Anaya became aware of the woman’s age. Her dreaming self strode forward, eager to embrace her grandmother for the first time in many months. But as she drew closer, she watched her grandmother’s smile melt away, her lips turning down into a grim expression, wrinkles deepening the creases of her eyes. Something was wrong. Anaya could feel it.

She sat up, clutching her cloak around her and shaking off the final wisps of the dream. Her heart raced wildly in her chest, and she was forced to tip her head back to draw in a deep, soothing breath of forest air.

When she had calmed herself, she looked around, remembering that Brugo was there. Or, he should have been.

Stumbling to her feet, she turned a slow circle, peering into the darkness. Brugo was nowhere to be seen.

She stopped, listening for a moment. Perhaps he had gone off to relieve himself and would be back in just a moment.

Chewing her lip, she sat back down, wrapping her arms around her knees and waiting patiently. Of course he would come back… right?

A glimmer of gold appeared at the corner of her vision and she startled.

“Not now,” she hissed.

The harpy fluttered once, ignoring her, and landed beside her, scratching at the dirt curiously with one clawed foot.

“What do I do now?”

She sighed in exasperation, watching her strange companion as it went about its business. Did ethereal beings need exercise? How long could she keep this secret to herself?

Something moved beyond her little clearing and Anaya jumped back to her feet, picking up the nearest stick and holding it before her, harpies and their strange habits forgotten.

“Who’s there?”

There was no answer. Anaya brandished her stick higher, jabbing it into the nearest bunch of bushes, roughly where she thought she’d heard the noise.

“Ow!” came a meek voice.

“Show yourself!” She stepped back a pace, leaving herself a little room in case this newcomer lunged for her.

Out of the gloom, a dark shape appeared, and Anaya narrowed her eyes. Slowly, she realized the figure was wearing a dark cloak that covered body and head, leaving the face in shadows. Shadowy figures moving about the forest were never a good thing in her experience. Apparently, her harpy agreed, because it faded abruptly and disappeared.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I haven’t got any money,” she said, taking another cautious step back, wondering where Brugo had really gone off to.

Perhaps this mysterious intruder had already gotten to Brugo! The thought sent a shiver down her spine and she let her eyes flit about. It had just occurred to her that there might be more cloaked figures hiding in the darkness.

“Hey, it’s you!”

Before Anaya could ask who, the figure before her reached up and pulled back his hood. Instantly, she recognized the young mage from the tower. She scowled, dropping into what she hoped was an intimidating fighting stance.

“Come for the rods, have you? Well, you’ll have to pry them from my—”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” he said, waving his hands before him, a dismissal of her accusations.

She stood up, dropping the stick to her side, confused. “No? Then why did you follow me?”

At this, he actually laughed. “Follow you? I did no such thing. I happen to be on a very important mission of my own, and it just so happens that I was crossing this way.”

Something about the young mage’s words gave Anaya the feeling that he wasn’t being entirely honest with her. She thought for a second, narrowing her eyes at him as she spoke again.

“Why didn’t you take the main road through town? It would’ve been faster, wouldn’t it?”

He hesitated, his mouth working for an extra second before he formulated an answer. “It’s not my fault the guards are being difficult at the moment. Besides, you’re out here, aren’t you? So why shouldn’t I also follow this path?”

She was about to question him further when another sound in the woods caught her attention and she turned quickly, raising her stick once more. This time, however, it was only Brugo who emerged from the brush, shaking himself free of twigs and leaves that clung to his enormous form.

His eyes went from Anaya to the mage and back, widening in surprise.

“What’s this?” he asked, his hand dropping to the haft of his axe reflexively as he strode forward, putting himself between Anaya and the stranger.

The mage gave an audible squeak, hopping several steps back at the sight of Brugo’s approach.

“I mean no harm,” he cried. “Just passing through. I didn’t mean to interrupt your… whatever this is.”

Brugo relaxed a little, looking to Anaya. “Would you like me to send him away?”

“Ye- Wait, no.”

Brugo gave her a curious look, but shrugged, standing down.

“Th-thank you,” the mage murmured.

“Tell me your name again, mageling,” Anaya demanded.

“Harpyn. Harpyn Freeble.”

“Good. Now tell me why you’re really out here in these woods. What happened at the tower?”

Brugo did not say a word during this exchange, but he perked up at the mention of the tower and was listening intently at Anaya’s side.

“I-I do not know,” he answered, a dark expression falling over his face. “One minute, old Geor was bumbling about like usual. The next, everything was falling down around us. It was like we got hit by… a meteor.”

Anaya’s mouth fell open in surprise as he spoke. A meteor? No, that couldn’t be right. The mage must be mistaken. Probably the old man had fumbled some spell and caused the explosion from within. When she’d cast that curse, it had merely been out of anger and frustration. She hadn’t really meant anything by it. And of course, she’d never worked any real magic by herself anyways, so she definitely wasn’t strong enough to have called down a whole meteor. Right?

“And how did you escape?”

“Geor saved me. He sacrificed himself to get me out. But—” Harpyn’s eyes shifted to Brugo, suddenly distrustful, and he slammed his lips closed abruptly.

If Brugo noticed, he didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he remained still and silent, listening to the two of them.

“I see,” Anaya said slowly, wondering how much more she should say.

On the one hand, Harpyn knew about the divining rods, and possibly the magic they contained. On the other hand, she didn’t know Brugo very well, traveling companion or not, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to spill all of her secrets just yet.

“Is this interrogation going to take much longer?” Brugo spoke up. “I’d like to get some rest before we continue on.”

Anaya considered Harpyn, thinking quickly. “It’s all right, Brugo. You can sleep. Harpyn and I have a few things to discuss.”

Brugo grunted, dropping to the ground with surprising speed and stretching himself out. The large man closed his eyes and settled in, and Harpyn visibly relaxed.

“I’m afraid I really must be going,” he whispered, easing his way back toward the cover of the trees.

“You still haven’t answered all my questions,” Anaya said, taking him by the arm and leading him a little way away from Brugo’s outstretched form. “If Geor is dead, what happened to the-”

“Shh!” Harpyn shot her a dangerous look. “He is dead. I saw him with my own two eyes. And as for the other… items… I saw one of them among the rubble, but there were guards crawling all over the place. I couldn’t get it, and I don’t know what’s going to happen when one of them finds it. That’s why I really must be going. Someone has to alert the mages of Yaal.”

“And you’re going to what? Just walk into the center of the city, demand to be heard, and tell them about all this? Why would they listen to you?”

“They’ll have to,” he said seriously.