Jenny watched the human eat apples one after another, biting them down to the stem and tossing the remains in the trash basket. Skin green and hair a tangle of brown vines, she stared as he did this a good three times, then silently glanced over at Dimple, who could only shrug helplessly, bull face drawn into a grimace.

Too nervous to take him into the Tree proper, but also badgered for food, Dimple had decided to bring Red to the stables. It was a long corridor carved into a giant root near the entrance, big enough to house the several dozen giant snails that the ELD kept.

Dimple hoped the place would be empty and quiet to let him calm down a little, but that'd been too much to ask for. Instead, they'd run into Jenny, another stablehand who greeted them warmly at first before slowly realizing the strangeness of their circumstances. The supposed disguise Red called his new sunglasses had failed immediately, and the striped tattoo on his cheek didn't exactly help make him nondescript.

Not that it much mattered; Red had freely admitted to sneaking in not one minute into meeting this new person, and Dimple had once again gaped, bewildered at his frankness.

"So, what are you gonna do with him?" Jenny whispered to Dimple, watching Red mow down another apple.

Dimple fiddled with his hands. "Probably hand him over, right?"

"I guess. But you might need more than one or two guards." The story of Red one-shotting two full-grown Greenkin without even trying didn't inspire much confidence.

"Lorcana's gotta be strong enough. I… I can keep him busy. Tell someone. Make sure news gets to her."

"Sure." Jenny glanced over at Red again, frowning as pumped a fist at making another basket shot. "Still, he doesn't seem dangerous. I think Bessie even likes him."

The giant snail sat right next to Red, eating her own fill of crumbed grass and lettuce. She still had all the luggage on her, but it was important to let her rest a bit before making the journey up the tree anyway. Other snails either snored in their stalls or mewled curiously at them, sticky eyes raised over the doors and bent down to look at the stranger.

"He doesn’t seem dangerous now," Dimple muttered.

Red tossed another apple nub into the trash basket, then licked his fingers. "So," he said, looking over at Bessie, "what do you guys put in their food? Snails aren't supposed to be this big, y'know."

Jenny chuckled awkwardly, while Dimple scratched around his little horns. "Well, they're not snails, they're gigantopods. Mystic Beasts."

"Ah, right, I guess weird stuff like this is real too." Red hummed, scratched his chin, then stared at Dimple. "Do you eat beef?"

"… What?"

"Because you're, like, half cow, right?"

At this, Jenny chuckled sincerely, though she stifled it with a hand and a turn of her head.

Dimple just blinked, not sure if he should feel offended. "I'm vegetarian..."

"I guess it'd be pretty messed up if you did eat it." Red nodded to himself, then without missing a beat asked another question. "Hey, why are you guys even here lugging this stuff around and not at that party?"

The two Greenkin glanced at each other, before Dimple cleared his throat. "Well, only Saplings and Oaklings are invited. We're just Seedlings. Someone's gotta do this kind of thing in the meantime, y'know, mop the floors, run deliveries, clean the stables…"

"Ah. So you’re a chore boy."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"It's true, though," Red said, reaching for another apple. He'd rather eat a burger or something, but the situation being what it was he figured it couldn't be helped. "Sounds lame. You guys like this stuff?"

"I think it's fun," Jenny said, leaning on the wall.

Red turned to Dimple with a raised brow. "Bull Boy?"

The minotaur fidgeted under his gaze. "Um… no, but—"

He stopped, looking down at his hooves, and Red hummed again. So this was what it looked like to work a job you didn't like. He'd imagined it would include more wacky hijinks and possibly some canned laughter, but instead it just seemed like something that turned you into an anxious mess.

Oh well. It wasn't Red's problem if other people weren’t happy with their own lives. He stood up, went to pet Bessie one more time, and gave Dimple a casual salute as he made for the exit. "Alright, thanks for the food. See ya."

Dimple stepped forward all at once, watching him with panic. "W-Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm bored. Figured I'd look around the place."

"You can't…" Seeing Red's uncaring expression, Dimple swallowed down his words, paused, tried again. "I mean, you can't without a guide! Yeah, that's what I meant to say. C-Come on, Bessie, let's give Red here a nice tour."

The snail looked down at Dimple with as close a pair of stemmed eyes could approximate exasperation. She tried going back to the lettuce but one insistent pull of her reins drew her forward.

As he went, Dimple looked back at Jenny, who could only offer a weak smile and a thumbs up. You put yourself into this situation, but good luck anyway, she seemed to say. Fair enough.

Dimple climbed up onto the snail's saddle, then pulled up alongside Red. "Hop on. Believe me, that's a climb you don't wanna make on your own."

"I guess you're the expert," Red said, then jumped aboard. Dimple kicked, and Bessie crawled out of the stable. Looking back at Jenny, Red waved carelessly. "Nice meeting ya, green girl!"

Jenny waved back. He really did seem friendly. Still, rules were rules, and she could only hope that Dimple didn't get in too much trouble.

By now the sun had gone down, and the sky had shifted into a twilight purple. There wasn't much activity, and the few Greenkin out and about walked without hurry, or rode their own gigantopods, sometimes right up the tree trunk like some kind of organic elevator.

Red saw a few beastmen, bodies covered in fur and faces drawn into snouts of some animal or another, a group of pixies flying by like a thin cloud of big mosquitoes, some more dryads like Jenny, though their hair was formed from a rainbow variety of leaves. Most didn't see him from his place nestled in the luggage pile, and those who did merely glanced past him—either his disguise worked after all, or they had other things to worry about.

He leaned forward on the lip of Bessie's cargo bed, head pillowed on crossed arms. "You sure have all sorts around here."

"It's the ELD, after all," Dimple said. "Greenkin can't exactly live in your human cities, and most like living in the wild better anyway."

"Hm. So, what's the pay around here?"

At this Dimple looked back over his shoulder, confused. "Pay?"

"Y'know, for working. To buy groceries and clothes and stuff."

"Oh. We don't use money."

"Weird. Sure this isn't some big scam?"

Dimple shook his head. "There's plenty of food for everyone already in the forest, and if you need clothes you can just ask the tailors. You humans are the weird ones, needing money for everything."

Red thought over those brief days he'd spent on the streets before Malcolm picked him up, and the longer string of weeks he'd done the same years back. Would've been nice to just go into a market and grab some bread without anyone caring much. Maybe paying for things was the real scam.

As he thought it over, they reached the mouth of the World Tree. The entrance put all caves, all church doors, all arches to shame, and stepping inside the first thing Red noted were the fireflies. They filled the whole place to the brim, lighting it despite the late hour in a warm, yellow glow.

Looking around, Red saw that the chamber they came into was huge, easily the largest he had ever been in, a circular space stretching a hundred yards in either direction. More of an indoor stadium than anything one would reasonably call a room. A ramp wrapped all the way around its circumference, spiraling up and out, leading to somewhere above.

But nothing was more apparent than its center. Surrounded by a central garden blooming with flowers and tall grass stood a thick stem, one that Red couldn’t imagine wrapping his arms around even if his arms were twice as long. It rose out from the ground and up into the ceiling, where a hole was carved out for its exit. The whole thing was covered in a strange sort of glowing sap, and the fireflies crowded it in clumps, creating a series of giant, morphing lightbulbs.

Dimple followed Red's eyes to that hole where the stem disappeared. "That's Halcyon, the Flower of Promise," he said with some pride. "It's so tall that it goes all the way up to the pavilion. Cool, right?"

"You bet," Red said, leaning forward. He reached over to shake the saddle, jostling Dimple. "Hey, let's go check out the top!"

The minotaur looked back at this excitable human, the anxiety of their situation coming back to him. It was the same indoors as outdoors; some Greenkin walking about, though mostly empty. Still, it only took one to find them out.

"Uh… actually, that might not be the best idea. Everyone's going to bed, but we could run into the night shift, and if they find you—"

"You worry too much," Red said, jostling him more. "Come on! I wanna see what it looks like!"

Bessie let out an excited mewl of her own and started crawling towards the ramp. Startled, Dimple grabbed the reins for balance. "H-Hey…"

"See, even the snail wants to go," Red said. Now on their way, he settled back on the luggage, head propped on interlocked fingers. "Don't sweat it, Bull Boy. Worst comes to worst, I'll just fight my way out."

That's exactly what Dimple was afraid would happen. Hands tight, the minotaur shook his head, accepting that he wasn't in control here. Bessie took them up the ramp, Red whistled a tune as they went on their way, and Dimple just hoped he could explain all this once they got caught.

- - - — MKII — - - -

It neared sunset, and the Scouts sat at their table in the pavilion, some still reaching for the dwindling food but most just talking, getting restless. Their guide hadn’t come back for them, and whenever one of them asked after their things or wanted to go to their guest rooms, they got turned back. And the Head Scout was late, but she would be joining them shortly. At least, that’s what they kept getting told.

Around them, the remaining Greenkin watched on with skeptical gazes, standing around at the periphery, only rarely coming to participate in conversation. Even the High Council looked at them only reluctantly; Harmony cold and stoic, Lorcana dour and suspicious, Alexander irritated even as he gulped down his wine. Most worrying for them was Silviamon, whose eyes seemed always to dance with some dark delight.

Clover noted all of it, each little detail adding up in her mind. The other Scouts either didn't notice the mood or had long decided to politely ignore it. Sam engaged the twenty around him with a story about his outpost, hands gesticulating overhead, and Clover tried to pay attention but found her focus shifting from the sound of his voice to that discomforting awareness of being someone's curiosity, as if those around them had yet to decide whether they should be treated as pets or pests.

Suddenly, someone shouted from the entrance, drawing all their talk to a close. A gnome pattered in with his stubbly legs, heaving air, but his words rang out powerfully across the empty pavilion. "Intruder! Intruder!"

Everyone stared at him, the Scouts and the few remaining Greenkin and the High Council at the back, confused.

All except Clover, who immediately processed that damning word and fought the urge to put her horrified face in her hands, thinking that it wasn't supposed to happen this soon, and couldn't that stupid kid have lasted longer than a few hours?

But she knew as she thought it that it wasn't fair to Malcolm, who had thrown himself in with such a barebones plan, and she hoped that he had at least found the evidence they needed to show why they'd resorted to such subterfuge.

Lorcana was the next to regain her bearings. Feathers ruffling, she raised her lance and struck it hard on the floor, filling the room with the echo of a heavy thump. "You will restrain yourself before the High Council, Seedling!" she said, not shouting but harsh enough to seem like it, and it was enough to freeze the gnome into a terrified silence.

Harmony stood and looked down at this panicking gnome expectantly. "Calm, friend," they said, voice a dull melody. "How do you come by this news?"

The gnome settled under the director’s yellow gaze. He took off his triangular hat, massaging it with nervous hands. "It was Marcus, Director. He was found at the foot of the tree along with Hesiod, both of them injured. When he came to, he told us of a human who stowed away on the Scouts' transport, one who subdued them upon being discovered."

Clover raised a dark brow. That didn't sound much like Malcolm, though he might have had no other choice. Around her, the rest of the Scouts murmured, worried and offended at the implication of their guilt, but their low talk ceased the moment Harmony's eyes passed over them.

"And this human, where could he be now?" Harmony asked.

The gnome shook his head. "Marcus couldn't say, though he did mention something else…" Gulping, the gnome combed back his sweaty white hair, glancing quickly at the rather bored-looking Alexander. "He said the human was helped by one of the stablehands. Dim— I mean, Joseph the Seedling minotaur."

In a moment Alexander jumped to his hooves, pounding on the table hard enough to crack it, bull nose flaring. "You little mongrel, don't even think about accusing my nephew of something like this!"

The gnome shrunk back, and Alexander looked set to leap over the table to strangle him, but one look from Harmony was enough to turn his heaving anger into silent grumbling.

"We won't jump to conclusions," Harmony said. Turning back to the gnome, they gestured to the tables with a pale white hand, nearly empty as they were. "Thank you for coming to us with this. Please take a seat and eat your fill. Now… Lorcana."

Hearing her name, Lorcana rose to her full height, a head taller than the fairy who'd addressed her, hand holding her silver lance with grim support, feathered body vibrant in the firefly light. Seeing her stand, the chimera Khurang also got to his full height alongside her with a low, throaty growl, fangs gleaming and scorpion tail whipping out behind him.

"Deal with this human intruder," Harmony ordered. “In whatever way you deem necessary."

"As you say," Lorcana said grimly. "Give me ten minutes." Wasting no time, she mounted Khurang and kicked. The beast roared, the sound filling the pavilion, and with a kick from his rider he dashed out in a bounding pace, a hunter out for prey, and Cover could only watch them go, feeling useless.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Now came Silviamon's slithering voice. "Director, it might do us well to check on the servers," he said, and at this Clover's blood ran cold. "We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time. And, things as they are, it might behoove us to… advance our schedule."

He didn't look her way, but Silviamon's smile seemed to widen relative to Clover's growing dread, particularly when Harmony nodded their assent. She couldn't even feel glad to have some proof that there had been something suspicious going on after all, now that the suspicion rested solidly on a member of the High Council.

"Take Alexander with you," Harmony said. "Perhaps the walk will calm him down."

Alexander crossed his heavy arms. "Like I could be calm going anywhere with this sniveling—" Again Harmony's eyes stopped his rage short. "Tch. Fine. Let's go, demon."

Silviamon placed all four of his hands on the table. "Calling me what I am is no insult," he said, rising to follow. "Though that might be the best a mind like yours could come up with."

"Don't test me!"

They left, and now alone at the high table, Harmony turned to the Scouts, yellow eyes boring into theirs, jumping from one pair to another. At her turn, Clover forced herself not to look away, trying to seem as confused as the rest, though it made her shiver not knowing whether the fairy could tell.

"Now as for you, our honored guests," Harmony said, voice tinged with irony. "It seems we have some things to discuss."

It wasn't just Harmony; all the Greenkin in the pavilion, members of the ELD who'd played audience to the gnome's news, turned to the Scouts also, ready to play audience to their inquisition. The Scouts glanced around at them, feeling the unsaid accusation, then glanced at each other, looking for safety.

Sam's eyes met hers, and Clover had to force a smile, hiding her guilt. You better hurry, Mal, she thought. This might get us more than just a slap on the wrist after all.

- - - — MKII — - - -

The corridors within the World Tree formed a sort of inescapable labyrinth, something Malcolm wished he'd known before splitting from Clover and the Eco-Scout group. Already he'd lost count of how many staircases, slopes, turns, and junctions he'd come across, not to mention the ones he'd actually taken.

Every once in a while he passed by what seemed like a conference room and looked silently through the open entrance at the group of Greenkin sitting there, sometimes in rowed chairs and other times all over the ground, sometimes turned towards the front for a presentation and other times in small or large clusters talking amongst themselves. Wooden signs on the wall along the entrances told him what went on inside—one had been called Sustainable Metropolitanism, another something like Dirt, Coffee, and You.

He was starting to understand now why Clover never seemed particularly excited whenever Jubilee came around.

Malcolm found no Scout among any of these groups, but he figured it was the same reason he hadn't run into many people in general as he walked the halls; that is, it was getting late. There were times during his journey where a nymph or a beastman crossed his path, but in these encounters he’d merely stood flat against the wall and watched as they passed right in front of him, bleary-eyed and stumbling from lack of sleep. Seedlings, always either carrying stacks of paper or some jar of something liquid to one of the rooms or cleaning the floors with a mop.

He felt like a spy going undercover whenever anyone passed by him, and he often found himself crouching and tiptoeing even with nobody around, for no other reason than because it felt like what he should do. Red hadn't been entirely wrong, he thought. Mission Impossible shit indeed.

After what felt like hours of walking up sloped halls, his way lit only by the dim light of stray fireflies and accompanied mainly by the muted sound of distant chatter, Malcolm finally found a way outside. He let out a breath, feeling the wind on his cheek and the humid air fill his nose. No windows for some thousand or so feet up sure made for a claustrophobic trip.

Looking around, he noted how the platform he stood on wrapped around the giant trunk, down on his right and up on his left. Hesitantly, Malcolm walked near the edge and glanced down, but the vertigo was so strong and immediate that he had to step back just to keep what little food he'd eaten that day from spilling out.

That one brief look was enough to tell him this was the highest he'd ever been. Maybe it would have been better if he could actually see anything down there, but with the moon nearly clouded over he could only make out the horizon and the varying shades of a forest far, far below. He wasn't particularly scared of heights, but even so he made sure to keep as close to the wall as he could.

According to the directions Clover had given him that morning, he shouldn't be too far. Malcolm scanned his surroundings, and saw a nearby path sitting atop a giant branch. At the end stood a large hut just as Clover had described, and walking towards it stood a sign that read Digital Archives.

The hut was made from weaved straw, and Malcolm couldn't help but recall the old story as he placed a hand against its and pressed. Let me in, little pig, or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down.

To his surprise, the wall didn’t so much as budge. He knocked softly on it, trying not to make too much noise, and felt as if he were knocking against hard wood. Whatever it was made of, it sure wasn’t about to blow away anytime soon.

There wasn’t a front door, but a large orange curtain, and the few windows there were all shuttered. If there was someone inside, Malcolm wouldn’t be able to tell until he came in, which made him a bit anxious. The front curtain magically opening itself up would be fairly suspicious to anyone working late.

Malcolm stood there, unsure, but forced himself to go in. It was late enough by then that no one should be inside, and even if someone was, when else would he get this chance? So, taking a deep breath, he slowly slid the curtain aside.

It opened with only a soft rustle, to the boy’s silent relief, and he took the time to peek through the slit he’d made. His eyes roamed the hut's interior, finding desks with neatly stacked parchment, a giant bowl of water over by a corner, and a few fireflies to light its otherwise empty space.

Perfect. Malcolm slipped in and slowly tiptoed through the hut’s interior, a place that seemed to him more like an office than anything else. There were a dozen desks, all of them clean and ordered in two rows, so that they made a corridor from the entrance to the head table on the other side of the room. The few fireflies around weren’t the best source of light, but they would have to be enough—the few wires he saw by the wall extended only to the three monitors at the other end of the room.

Computers were a strange sight in a place so seemingly allergic to electricity, but it seemed even the ELD couldn't deny the utility of certain things, as loath as they might be to admit it. And, Malcolm figured, chances were the little power being fed here came from solar batteries.

Better get started, then. Malcolm strode over to the computers as silently as he could. Sure, he was alone, but no amount of logic could get him to walk normally, and as he neared the monitors he found himself looking over them at the entrance, triple checking that no one would follow him in before he turned them on.

Coast clear. Looking at the monitors, Malcolm set his jaw. He knew the date for each transaction to Seig, and he knew it had come from an account called "Bishop." Hopefully this wouldn't take too long.

- - - — MKII — - - -

Red and Dimple traveled up the wooden platform that coiled around the World Tree in the snail equivalent of a slow trot. Still, Bessie made short work of the journey, and after some ten minutes they’d already climbed a good height. At some point, Dimple had realized he never did get around to delivering all that luggage, but he figured he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Red leaned back on Bessie, hands behind his head, looking up at the rolling shapes in the sky. Some moonlight would at times seep through and give the clouds the vaguest hints of shape, but altogether it was a rapidly thickening coat over the sky, casting everything under it in an unnatural pitch black that the fireflies hanging around struggled to light.

"Looks like it'll rain soon," Red said, still lying on his back, head nestled in his hands.

Dimple, sitting in front of him and grabbing a tight hold of Bessie's reins, threw the boy a look over his shoulder. "How are you so calm about this?" he said, eyes going back and forth.

The coming night had slowly sucked at whatever nerve he had for this whole situation. At any moment, he could have stopped by a fellow Seedling or Sapling and told them what was going on, but Red would've just beaten them up like he had Marcus and Hesiod.

Surely those two had been found by now. The longer they went without running into Lorcana, the more Dimple feared getting into trouble.

"You're an intruder!" Dimple said, mostly to himself. "This is nuts!"

"Yeah, I can't believe no one's found us yet," Red said, glancing over at Dimple. "What're you gonna tell 'em? You're probably getting in trouble too at this point."

"I know!"

"Pretty sure you're supposed to stop this sorta thing from happening."

"Don't remind me!"

"Let's see…" Red raised a hand to the air, palm open. The two sat in silence for a bit, and eventually Red felt a single drop on his skin. "Yep, it's gonna rain alright."

Dimple slumped forward. He could see it now. His entire life, ruined in one night. They’d be found out, and then he’d get fired, exiled from the ELD as a traitor, probably marked in some blacklist for eternity. His children, whatever children he could even have with his reputation, would share the same fate, and for the rest of time his bloodline would be dragged through the dirt in all the wild places of the world.

God, what would his uncle say?

Too late. He and Red were already halfway up the World Tree undetected, and to get caught now meant trouble for him. If only he'd had some nerve, he'd have tried to run from Red when they met, and even if he'd sported some bruises afterwards at least his loyalty wouldn't have been questioned.

But no, Dimple just couldn’t take action when the time called for it. Cowardly Dimple never could just make a decision for once.

Red peered over the side, looking straight down with a whistle. The drop descended into shadow, too dark for him to make out any details about the forest he knew lay just beneath them.

"No handrails, huh?" he said. "You guys sure live on the edge, I'll give you that."

Dimple shrugged miserably. "Gigantopods stick real well. If you're on one, you're definitely not falling."

"If you say so." With a grunt, Red waved his hand at a couple of fireflies that flew too close to him for comfort. "Anyway, what’s up with all these fireflies? I've seen more here than in my entire life."

"It's Halcyon," Dimple said. "The nectar that Halcyon puts out, that green stuff? Fireflies go crazy for it. It's one of the reasons it got planted in the first place. Wouldn't be smart to light the inside of a tree with candles."

"Nectar, huh… Does it taste good?"

"What? No, it's raw nectar. Do you ever think about anything other than food?"

Red smiled. "What else is there?" Dimple gave him the stink eye for that, and he had to laugh.

Then, something cut through the silence around them. It reached Dimple’s ears first, though he attributed it to the wind. But soon enough even Red could hear it. Snaps of air like rhythmic thunderclaps, getting closer and closer.

"What's that?" Red said, sitting up lazily.

The two looked around, seeing nothing, but by now Dimple had some idea. He tried not to let his relief show as the sound came closer, thanking Jenny in his head. Help was, finally, on its way.

As for Red, the boy felt his heart pump just a bit quicker, and something thrummed in him, focusing his vision. His face, slack with leisure, slowly tightened as the sound grew closer, and he felt, without intention, his lips widening into a grin. He knew this feeling, and his body responded appropriately even as his mind worked to make sense of it. This thrill, this danger, he'd felt it before.

Killing intent.

Something flashed in his periphery, and without hesitation Red threw himself off Bessie, narrowly avoiding the sharp silver edge as it skewered the air where his head had been. He landed on his side, then kicked to roll himself onto a knee, glancing up.

Red saw a silver lance skewered on the tree trunk, triangular point dug deep in its bark. Then he felt a pinch of bloodlust from behind, and Red lunged forward, leaping some dozen yards down the wooden platform and landing on a crouch.

Looking back, he saw a lion twice as large as any reasonable lion should be, its fur a gritty white and its fangs gleaming in the pale blue moonlight, red eyes almost glowing. A lion, except that swishing behind it was a scorpion's tail made of solid, black caprice, and spread out at its sides a pair of large, browning wings.

Red had just enough time to process the sight of the not-lion as it settled down alongside Bessie and a petrified Dimple before another figure landed next to it, in a crouch much like his. When it rose, he saw a tall woman covered in feathers, wearing a loose blue skirt that fanned down to her knees and something like a toga to cover her chest. Plumage splayed out like a headdress around her face, a stoic and thin one that scowled at him with assured contempt.

Her eyes, yellow and thin, stared down across the short space that split them, and with one smooth motion she reached over with a long-limbed arm to pull the silver lance free. "Seedling Joseph," she said, planting her lance like a staff before her. "You have done well to keep this human busy."

The chimera continued to growl beside her, looking ready to pounce right on Red, who slowly rose to a measured stance.

As for Dimple, he'd become a shaking ball of sweat, gripping his reins as if gripping onto the tether of life. His breathing snagged on itself from pure speed, and his widened eyes locked forward, neck stuck, fear locking it in place. Below him Bessie wasn't doing much better, though the snail seemed more distressed than paralyzed, stalk eyes sweeping back and forth to get a gauge on its surroundings, meeting them with a low, insistent mewl.

Lorcana was here. Dimple had been hoping for it, but now that it happened he just wanted his hands to stop trembling. It was like she’d come in practically trying to give him a heart attack.

The Head of Security seemed to guess at his state, glancing over with something in her hard face that approximated pity. Or perhaps contempt. "Proceed as you were, Seedling," she said. "I'll take responsibility for this—"

Lorcana stopped, looking at Red.

"… What are you doing."

Legs spread and hands touching the floor, Red craned his neck up to meet her eyes. "I'm stretching," he said, then squatted and shifted side to side, putting weight on his knees. "Last time I got into a fight and didn't do this I felt kinda stiff after. You gotta watch out for this sorta stuff."

Blinking, Lorcana watched him straighten out, then twist on his hips, one arm locking the other by the elbow. After another long moment, she decided to just carry on like this wasn’t happening. "I would recommend not doing battle with me," she said, voice severe. "Surrender yourself, or face your death."

Still stretching, Red frowned at her with genuine confusion. "Uh, you already tried to stab a freakin' spear through my head, lady. I feel like we're a little past the 'threatening each other' part of the showdown."

After another short yet decidedly uncomfortable silence, Lorcana leveled her lance at him. "Leave, Seedling," she said, eyes locked on Red. It took Dimple a moment to recognize, through the haze of his fizzing nerves, that she was talking to him. "This is no longer a place for one such as you."

Limber as he could get, Red rolled up his sleeves. "Yea, Bull Boy, get outta here."

Lorcana raised a brow at that, and the words sent another round of rippling shakes up Dimple's body. Had Red not realized he was basically getting betrayed here?

Gulping, Dimple somehow raised his hands and whipped Bessie's reins. The snail looked closely at him, stem eyes bending over to stare back at the rider, but Dimple somehow whipped the reins again, kicking at the sides with his hooves. "L-Let's go, Bessie. C-Come on…"

Red watched the snail crawl away up the ramping platform, minotaur boy frozen on its saddle. Poor dude, he thought. Some people just weren't made for this sort of thing. Well, they could hang out later. "You know, for such an important-sounding place, it sure took a while for someone to come kick me out," he said, looking back at Lorcana.

Pointing her lance at him, the beastwoman lay a hand on Khurang's hide, feeling the chimera's tensing muscle. Both her and her partner glared down at the boy from their incline. "You were found immediately, then assaulted those who found you."

Red hummed. Now that she mentioned it, there had been those two earlier in the day… "Oh right. I totally forgot about those guys."

Something turned in the wind, or maybe Red just imagined it. Either way, he threw himself back, eyes wide as Lorcana's lance grew out from her hand, extending down the dozen yards towards him, silver edge stabbing through the air as he landed on his elbows. Grinning, he did what came naturally and kicked at the lengthened shaft, popping it up before rolling onto his hands.

Turning around, he saw Khurang pounce at him, the beast like a white shadow, claws glinting and slashing down at him. Red pushed himself into the air and used the big lion head as a dismount, feeling the thick, warm breath as he crossed it.

Hanging in the air, he twisted out of the way as the chimera's scorpion tail lunged at him, needle dripping with some green liquid he definitely did not want anywhere near his body. It missed him by an inch, ripping at his hoodie and spraying venom in droplets as it passed. Close call.

Unfortunately, that's when another silver thrust came, and Red couldn't twirl out of the way quite as well this time. He tried anyway, and it thankfully stabbed a cut on his arm rather than skewer his heart.

Red landed on his feet behind Khurang, and before the chimera could turn around he jumped as hard as he could toward its trainer. Lorcana watched him fly toward her like a bullet, fist pulled back, and with a click of her tongue she shrunk her lance back to normal and raised it to block the blow.

Knuckles punched into the lance’s shaft, and to her shock Lorcana found herself sliding up the platform as if skating backwards on ice, feet slipping on the wood through a combination of recoil and her own unflinching balance. Dust trailed her feet as they left behind a long pair of skid marks before she finally stopped, momentum lost.

Glancing back, Lorcana saw she stood mere inches from the edge of the platform. A black void looked back at her, one broken up only by the vague, moonlit outline of trees far, far below. Breathing deeply, she steadied the tremble of her hands. It wasn't a product of fear; her lance had been struck hard enough that it still vibrated even as she twirled it back to point at Red. "You are strong. For a human."

Red stared back, looking at her lance. If she was surprised he could hit it so hard, he was equally surprised it could take the hit unscathed. "That's a fancy stick you're swinging around."

"This stick is the Lance of Olyndicus, a sacred Talisman with centuries of history."

"Okay, so a very fancy stick."

A guttural growl. Red glanced back and saw Khurang looming close, head close to the floor. The monster's eyes glinted red, crouched figure casting deep shadows under the firefly light. Looking back at Lorcana, he saw her own eyes glint down at him just as sharply.

"This weapon was given to me for two reasons," she said, voice low against the distant chirp of night. "The first was to symbolize my position as Head of Security at this World Tree. The second… was as a weapon to do my duty as the knight of all the Greenkin you humans would destroy."

Red didn't offer any snarky response. He didn't have to. His grin said more than enough. The monster behind him, and the hunter before him—a haze of violence settled on him from both sides.

Good. It was about time something exciting happened.

Lorcana seemed to agree. "You've given me quite the opportunity," she said, her own voice betraying, behind all its severe steel, a seed of pleasure. "I'll show you exactly what this fancy stick can do."