Many slighted souls from around the world can attest to the abhorrence of being woken by a cold bucket of water to the face. That morning, Murphy found himself unlucky enough to count himself among their ranks. The day came to him with a head stinging brightness, and the sensation of an unpleasant bath.
"Someone is feeling very brave" he slurred, looking around the pen with blurry eyes.
Standing above him was a woman in a brown cloak, behind her was Oats. He sat up and rubbed his head, realising where he was again. May was as silent as always, though something about her posture hinted at a deep satisfaction, as she stood with the empty bucket in hand.
"You know, sometimes I get the feeling you don't like me very much" he said, standing to his feet.
She tossed the bucket at him. "You need to fill that for the birds" she thought to him, before leaving without another word.
Oats helped him and the equally hungover Sausage wake up properly, and let him know of the morning's events so far. They were to meet with Serril at the edge of town, where the large man was waiting with their mounts. Apparently, the Demai had decided on behalf of everyone that it would be perfectly safe to ride the feather-links. It didn’t take long to gather his things. The ledger box had proven useful, and it fit comfortably into his satchel. That meant that everything he owned could be easily carried on his shoulder, or worn. The town was awake before him, so the sounds of morning industry assaulted his ears harshly on their walk. They met with the others five minutes walk out of town. They stood beneath a willow tree, surrounded by long orange grass. The snowfall had eased after the first month of their trip, so the grass was mercifully dry. They stood with three of the feathered beasts, and a loaded cart.
They set off into the wilderness from there, with Sausage pulling the cart and Oats sitting comfortably atop it. While he watched the man get comfortable in his seat, Murphy considered for a moment that he might have picked the wrong role on their mission. If being an auxiliary meant comfortable seats and being surrounded by food, it seemed like the kind of role he could thrive in.
The beast's they rode were fast, darting across the planes at triple the speed a horse might. The speed of the flightless birds was too much for Sausage to keep up with, so they split into two groups, allowing Murphy some time to travel with his friend without the constant orders from May to keep up. The others would go on ahead as scouts, and Murphy was poised to leave their auxiliary at speed if the others were to find trouble beyond their means. Uundah took the opportunity to sprawl out in the back of the cart as his rodent self, and make a good attempt at thwarting the apple incursion he seemed to think the party was suffering. By midday, they received word from Serril to rest and eat, since they were making such good time.
"Do you suppose he knows how far behind we are?" Murphy asked Oats, while he scraped the bark from a small log.
"I'm not sure" Oats replied. "If he's on that mountain there, he might just be able to see us here."
"Liar, that mountain is an easy ten chip away" Murphy scoffed.
"He spotted that fish from ten chip away" Uundah reminded him.
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"That was in the sky on its own. No chance he could spot us in all this grass, don't matter how good his eyes are."
"I wouldn't count on it though" Oats said carefully. "Them Demai are something to consider, to be sure."
"I know that" Murphy defended. "I have Demai blood after all."
Oats laughed. "That may be sir, but you're no Demai. Still, does explain a bit of your behaviour though."
"What do you mean by that?" Murphy complained, feeling slightly indignant.
"I mean no offence sir. It's just that you don't tend to consider many of the risks you take, like you don't think you can get hurt" the strange man responded kindly.
Murphy wanted to argue with him, but decided he was probably right. Consequences weren't something he'd ever worried too much about. "I'm not offended" he sighed. "Like I said, must be in my blood."
~~
The daylight was fading by the time they caught up with Serril and May. The two experienced adventurers had already set their camp, including a tarped area for Sausage. May was warming her hands by the fire when they approached, and Serril was poised at the edge of the swept area, with a stern expression on his face. The place they had chosen was at the edge of a dense forest of giant ferns. The heavy leaves above blocked out much of the light that could have penetrated into the underbrush, leaving a whole manner of desperate and parasitic plants to compete for nutrients. The effect had an atmosphere of gloom, and the gentle fog that coated the floor only served to intensify the intimidation. The Demai was staring deep into the forest with concern, so Murphy joined him while Oats started on their meal.
The big man remained silent for some time, wordlessly offering Murphy a sip from his flask after realising the obnoxious wizard wasn’t leaving. "Dream Eaters in these woods" he eventually spoke. The ominous warning was just vague enough to send a chill running along Murphy’s spine.
"Nothing you can't handle, right?" Murphy asked nervously, trying to suppress a whisky encouraged cough. He wasn't sure what a Dream Eater was, but he was sure he didn't like the sound of it.
"My temple is strong, wizard. Though even the strong can falter to their own dreams". He took another swig from his flask, not even flinching at the burn in his throat. "Fearsome and ugly beasts if you've never seen them."
"I take it you've dealt with them before then?" Murphy asked.
"Only once… not an exciting tale that one though" the big man responded, taking another deep sip.
Murphy looked back to the fire, to see Oats starting into a detailed tutorial on the meal he was cooking to the unwilling student in front of him. They looked occupied, so he shrugged and held his hand out for the flask. "I don't mind a story, even if it's not a very exciting one" he said gently, suspecting the big man might have something he wanted to say.
Serril smiled softly and handed him the flask. "Don't see the harm I suppose" he said. He gestured to a nearby log, and ushered them to sit, never taking his eyes off the darkness of the forest's heart. He took another long drink from his flask, and wiped the whisky from his chin with a quietly shaking hand.
"Aren't too many places you can find the bastards, but you always know when they're about. There's a smell in the air like a fresh washed babe, it calms you, but you should never let it. First time I smelled it was in Tane Elikirr, about eighteen red skies past. I was travelling with a man named Jarrey Ehnta-Fehlirr. We were companioned by the Tavern in my second red sky, and spent the next thirteen reldan-eskey beside each other as one blade, and as one heart. In the jagged hills of the mountains of Konkior, we were tasked with the clearing of a tomb situated by a hamlet of human settlers. The villagers were vanishing in the night, and Jarrey was taken in by the sad tale of a mother who lost her son. I thought there might be a Lich and some loot, so I was easily swayed to the cause". He paused, and took another drink.
"I take it there was no Lich then?" Murphy asked, breaking the silence before it dragged on too long.
"Wishful thinking to be true. Not a single coin in that crypt, nor a warden of the undead. No, all I found in that damned tomb was the sweetest dreams a man could wish for and the loss of a love a man could never have hoped to find". He stood, and walked several paces into the forest. "It'll start with a whistle. It'll be the most beautiful melody your heart could yearn for. Then, you will be in bliss. Dreaming of the life you didn't even know you wanted". He turned to look at Murphy. "But don't be fooled. It is but a dream, and on the outside of your mind, your soul is devoured. They take your face, and keep it for themselves. For the vile abominations can only dream one dream themselves, to have a soul and an identity of their own. Don't listen to the woods tonight wizard, or it may be the last melody you hear". He looked away again, and took in a deep breath. "I don't mean to lose my composure, Eseyfirr, but if my words can cause you fear of this foe, then I am not sorry."
Murphy remained uncharacteristically silent, and watched the big man walk back towards the camp. "Come now" Serril said, breaking the tension with his usual jovial tone. "Let's see what the donkey man has in store for us."