It’s her smell that wakes me up. I’m so damn used to it, even after all this time apart … these last few days in particular it’s been like we never parted, I always know instantly when she’s close because it’s a scent that I came to identify with so much more than anything else in the whole world. It felt like home, made me happy to pick it up, even when I was at my worst, my very darkest, just catching a passing whiff of it was enough to make me smile. It was a smell I would’ve been so happy to wake up to every day for the rest of my life.

Which is why it’s been so frustrating for me lately … ‘spite of everything else I been trying to tell myself, the trace memories of that smell just instantly betray me every time I pick it up, so for a beat or two every time I start to feel good again. I think I start to feel love, and that’s the worst of it. Fucking hell … am I still not over her yet?

So I’m uncomfortably closely aware, when I wake up again, that I’ve got a distinct rigid tightening in my pants as I roll over on the couch that I have to immediately hunch to cover for as I start to sit up. When I look up, blinking the sleep from my eyes, I’m a moment focusing as I catch sight of Darwyn settling on the floor just in front of the gently crackling hearth, a modestly filled tray in front of her. She’s a small thing, of course, but halflings can be deceptive, and despite her lean, sinewy acrobat’s frame I know full well what a hearty appetite she usually has.

The fact that all she’s got is a single bacon sandwich is telling enough to me, but more so the substantial pitcher with a single cup that explains why she bothered with a tray at all. I can smell cider in it, and I’ve already noticed how strong the temple’s own is. But there’s more than just an unusually small appetite here to signal something’s off with her, I know her face too well, I can read it like an open book.

“What’s wrong?” The words are out of my mouth before I realise it, too late for me to take ‘em back as she looks up, sharper than I’d like, eyes wider than I would’ve expected. Surprised, I realise. Maybe it was the unexpected gentleness of my tone.

Clearing her throat, Darwyn looks down quickly, instead concentrating on setting her cup aside so she can take the pitcher up with both of her frustratingly small hands in order to pour herself a share. “Nothing. I’m fine. Really.”

I don’t believe her for a second, but I hold my tongue. This whole time it’s been a nightmare for me trying to work out how I can even try to interact with her. I don’t want to be angry with her, but … fuck, she’s been making it so hard for me the whole time. So part of it’s just me wanting to avoid another argument, I’m definitely not in the mood while my head’s still a little muddled from that damn strong whiskey the Hellcat served us up on the Hill, but … no, there’s still more to it than that. It ain’t an edge this time, it’s more …

“No, you ain’t. You don’t reckon I can tell when you’re proper upset about something? How long we known each other?”

Blinking, she stops with the cup a little short of her lips in both hands as she looks up at me again, eyes a little wider than I expected, really. “We … well, you already … a long time, but … I mean …” She stops, a frown starting to form on her face now, and she watches me for a long moment, growing wary again. “No. I ain’t doin’ this. We ain’t friends.”

Damn it … it’s all I can do to just keep from screaming in her face, holding my tongue as I take a deep breath, inwardly counting. “No, I know … look, we don’t have to be, you impossible little idiot. I’m pissed with you too. Don’t mean I don’t still care about you.”

Darwyn stares at me for another long beat, suspicious now, which just makes me angrier seeing it. I try not to tighten my jaw any more looking back. “Can’t you just … just please take my word for it, Art. I ain’t …” She sighs, gritting her teeth now as she looks down. “I’m fine.”

I don’t answer that, I just watch her as she lifts the cup again and takes a big pull from it. Enough to half drain it, in fact. Like she’s trying to get drunk fast. Sitting forward now, I grab the cup out of her hands while she’s still lowering it, and down the rest in one long swallow. The look she gives me is more shocked than anything else, but there’s nothing like the venom I expected behind it. In fact, after a moment there’s the start of a smile touching her lips.

“You shit. Gimme that back.” She don’t grab for it, but holds her hand out all the same, giving me a look even though she’s smiling now.

“If you say please, I might.” I can’t keep from grinning back.

“You git.” She growls it, but she looks ready to start chuckling now. It’s a strange thing really, given how we been lately, but maybe it’s enough to give me hope. Not that I’m over-sure how I actually feel about what that might actually mean, but …

“Heads up.” Zuldrad mutters low, just to us as he stalks into the room, moving right past us so he can take up a position against the wall, and I’m so surprised by the look on his face I’m a moment noticing the others coming in behind him.

“Darwyn …” Kesla starts as she stops right in front of us, folding her arms over her chest as she looks down at my ex. Her expression’s …. Complicated.

When I look up at Shay and Gael, who are hanging back close to the doorway, I’m surprised to find them looking mostly uncomfortable right now. But it’s Krakka who makes me realise something’s off – the way he’s looking at Darwyn as he moves round the couch to take up a position on her other side, I genuinely don’t like it. It’s … gods, he’s wary. Like he’s worried what she might do. What the hell?

The room’s become deathly quiet, I realise now. When I first woke I could hear the hushed but enthusiastic whispering of Tulen and Sessa, but they’re both sat up now, watching the scene with looks of equal surprise on their faces, having quickly caught the mood. The only ones who seems undisturbed now are Big Man and Lady Naru, the golem still stood at the back o’ the room, unmoving as he’s been the whole time since we came back, his bright stare the only thing to show he’s paying attention at all. The sorcerer, on the other hand, still sits back in her chair, the same as when I first woke, seeming engrossed in a modest leatherbound volume I had no idea she was even carrying. If she’s attentive too she ain’t letting on.

Shooting me a look, Darwyn sits up straighter now, turning to look up at her with almost exaggerated slowness, as if she already knows where this is going. “Kesla?” She makes it sound like an innocent enough query, but there’s still a touch of hope in her tone I can’t help picking up on.

For a moment my friend don’t follow through, instead shooting Shay a look which immediately has me wondering exactly what they just found out back there. More so what the hell it could possibly have to do with Darwyn. Granted, my head’s still a little muddled, and that fresh pull of cider probably won’t help matters, but I ain’t drunk. Not yet. I can still follow a train o’ thought well enough.

“Kesla, what –” I start, before I quite realise I’m doing, putting the empty cup aside now as I sit up a little more now.

Finally seeming to find her resolve, she just runs roughshod right over me. “Where you been, Darwyn?”

“To the canteen.” Darwyn blinks, mostly just seeming nonplussed by the question now. “I needed a drink.”

“No, I mean before.” Kesla shifts her stance, mostly outta discomfort, I reckon. “After you ran out on the others. After … y’know. The mess.”

That has her frowning up at my friend now, and she finally gets to her feet. I notice Krakka shift subtly when she does it, stepping back a little, and suddenly I’m very aware he’s got Bloodmoon propped across his shoulder right now. It’s like he regards her as a threat now, or ‘least a potential one. What …

“I had to get some air. I … had a scare in there, I’ll admit it, I was a bit shook. Needed some alone time.” She looks at Shay now, I realise, like she wants some backup. “You remember, you were there.”

“Yeah, Shay already told us about that.” Kesla shifts her stance again, still towering over her as she gives her a long, cool calculating look. I’m starting to recognise that expression, she’s thinking along the same lines as Krakka, she’s just better at hiding it from somebody who don’t know her so well as me. “She said you wanted to go talk to Cobb, check in like. ‘Cept that ain’t what you did. Yes says you went to the Drumhalt.”

Yeslee? I look round, but I don’t see her, far as I could tell she wasn’t here when we got back. I don’t … then I see her, behind Shay and Gael, just inside the doorway, and she’s not watching Darwyn now. I realise she’s watching me. That’s … I wonder what that’s about.

Darwyn’s a while answering this time, instead she just watches Kesla with a very careful look on her face. It’s one I ain’t seen in a while, actually, but I know it well enough. Whenever I caught her considering sneaking one past me, working out her options. But why … “Sure. I went there. For my own reasons. I didn’t have to actually see Cobb in person, there’s other ways to pass on a message. Y’know that much, you spent plenty time travellin’ with wizards.”

“You’re trying to say you talked to a wizard?” Kesla’s very matter-of-fact the way she asks that, but I still pick up on the subtle edge there.

“No, just somebody could connect me to ‘im. I know people too, after all.”

Kesla frowns at that. “A hedge wizard?”

Shrugging, Darwyn shoots a very loaded look at Gael now. “You people ain’t got so much of a monopoly on magic as you’d like to think.”

“But you had me with you before you left.” Gael’s frowning too, although theirs is definitely more in simple confusion right now. “You could’ve just asked –”

“I wanted to keep my own council on that conversation, thank you very much.” Darwyn don’t quite snap, but I can tell she’s getting more defensive now. “I’m only here on sufferance, if you remember. The whole point o’ me tagging along was to keep Cobb in the loop.”

“An’ this person you went to see was in the Drumhalt?” Kesla remains very matter-of-fact when she asks this, but I can tell her mind’s racing a mile a minute now. “That’s why you went there?”

“No, I went there on my business. The hedge was just convenient.” She don’t say anything more, but the way she looks up at Kesla’s so familiar to me. She’s almost daring her to start prying now.

For a moment I think she might actually do it too, but instead she takes a deep breath as she looks down at the floor for a long beat, reconsidering. Looking to follow a different track, I suspect. When she looks up again her face is more cautious. “Thing is, we talked to Vik while you were gone. Cuz I was not prepared to wait for you to get back, whenever that might’ve been. Reckon you can appreciate we’re on a bit of a time limit here.”

Darwyn watches her for a long beat before answering, and she’s growing very cautious too now. “Oh yeah. Reckon I can.”

“We asked about the Guild gear they been using. It was one o’ the first questions we asked, actually. Given that so many of ‘em been using your stuff it felt important. Thanks to Gael, he was real accommodating.”

Gael coughs, very uncomfortably I notice, and their expression’s proper sour as they just stare at the floor. They are looking a little off-colour, I notice now, ‘least compared to before. Like something else happened to give ‘em a nasty hit they ain’t quite shook off yet.

“What’d he have to say for himself?” Darwyn wonders, still coolly watchful.

“He don’t know exactly where the gear came from, Vandryss set ‘em up with it. But he recognised it, and he knew what a big deal it was, so he had to ask. Apparently she said she got it from a reliable source. And she could get ‘em more if they needed it.”

Fuck … the way Darwyn hisses low under her breath after a very loaded moment of silence amongst the entire group I know she’s had the exact same though I’m getting. “Means they got a connection inside the Guild after all. Like you wondered about.”

“Yeah.” Kesla takes a step closer now, and her hand’s now conspicuously rested on Hefdred’s hilt. “So it might not be the best time for certain folk to be just goin’ off on their own, if you catch my drift.”

Frowning deeper, Darwyn takes her own step forward, although that means that she really has to crane now to maintain eye-contact. “I know exactly what you’re driving at. Don’t.”

Kesla cocks her head now, her expression not changing in the slightest. “Then what were you doing in the Drumhalt?”

“Nothin’ of any relevance to this fucking mess.” She growls back. “That’s all you’re getting. I said it was my business. Ain’t yours.”

“You do see how this looks, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah, it’s clear as fuckin’ crystal. Don’t mean I’m gonna talk about it. Not to you.”

“Darwyn, c’mon now –”

She rounds on me as I push myself up off the couch, moving fast enough I almost fall right back down on my arse reacting. I notice Krakka shift seeing it, but he holds his composure well enough to not just swing right there. Or maybe he’s just not entirely convinced about her yet either. “Not to you either, Art o’ fucking Shadows. I don’t owe you anything more’n I owe the rest o’ you.”

“Yeah, okay, fine …” I growl through tightly gritted teeth, holding my hands up now. “But you know this looks –”

“Fuck you, Art. Fuck you for ever even considering I might turn on my own. I might expect it from some o’ the others, they don’t know me, but you?” She hisses again, with a lot more venom this time, but at least she stops short of actually spitting in my face, instead shaking her head as she turns back to Kesla. “You wanna interrogate me? That the plan?”

Kesla just frowns down at her for a long moment, her jaw visibly tightening now, but I reckon I see the doubt in her now too. Finally she just lets a very deep, weary sigh go as she uncrosses her arms and takes a big step back, turning to Yeslee again. “You said Thel and hers cleared off already?”

“Certainly looks like it.” Yes takes a step further into the room now, but still seems cool and casual as she simply shrugs. “They’re not here.”

“They have left the temple.” Big Man rumbles now, surprising us all. “Before they left my range of awareness they were headed in a roundabout route which, after calculation, could take them to the Drumhalt.”

“They’re following your trail.” I say to Darwyn now as I turn to Kesla. “What the fuck is goin’ on, boss?”

“Thel wasn’t any happier about Darwyn leaving us the way she did than you are.” Gael mostly says it to Kesla, although they shoot me a complex look too. They’re starting to worry just like the rest of us, I reckon. “You don’t think … could they be in trouble? I mean, after what we just did, surely –”

“Can you get hold of ‘em?” Kesla’s asks Gael now, and while she’s hard enough to rattle I can tell she’s getting a little anxious too. “I mean, I know you’re still recovering, but –”

“What?” I can’t help stepping forward now as I catch how Gael blanches at that. “What’s she mean? Gael, what is wrong?”

“Oh for … I’m fine, really.” They wave their hand about altogether too vaguely to convince. “It really wasn’t that bad really, I can do it, just –”

“They are in the Drumhalt now, yes. But they’re being followed.”

For a moment I’m somewhat at a loss, with all this going on the voice ain’t instantly familiar to me even though I know I should recognise it. Others are already turning to look back past me, though, and when I see Lady Naru now stood up in the centre of the room, hands casually folded in front of her, looking as cool and serene as ever, I finally make the connection.

“They’re … I’m sorry?” Kesla seems to have been knocked off-kilter much as me now.

“Mistress Frostforge initially believed they might simply be locals, possibly with some malicious intent, but nothing beyond larceny. She has now reconsidered, however. Apparently the scents that Master Brung is picking up are far too contradictory to that idea. She says that one of them is a dragonhalf, another a half-hobgoblin. And there may be an ogre as well.” She frowns just a little now, barely more than the suggestion of a crease in her brow really, but notable all the same. “And there is another one whose scent he is entirely incapable of placing at all. I suspect whoever is menacing them seeks other that simple pillage.”

Kesla turns to me now, considering. “Doubt there’d be much point askin’ if –”

“Far as I know there ain’t no ogres in the local Guild. Gran was rarity enough. No dragonhalves either, ‘least so far as I know.” I shoot a look to Darwyn, who’s frowning deep too, and she picks up on my query immediately.

“No.” She shakes her head, speaking with simple deliberation, no edge of hostility in her words now, which surprises me. “No new arrivals since you been gone. I would know.”

“Then it’s likely Vandryss.” Shay ventures “Maybe they’ve called in more forces we haven’t seen before?”

“Or it’s worse.” Kesla growls “Maybe they’re takin’ a leaf from our book. Sellswords.”

“That would not surprise me.” Lady Naru glides close now, still uncanny in her serenity, especially given the circumstances. “Not with Hontiresk. From what I have learned of him, the man has much further reaching associations than simply the local underworld.”

“Then they’re in real trouble.” Kesla turns to me again, and the way she looks at me suggests she’s proper scrutinizing me now. Ain’t sure I like this. “You still functional or are you too well lubricated?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Blinking, I open my mouth to respond but realise I have no idea what she actually just asked me, so I reckon I just gawp like a landed fish for a beat. “I … what?”

“Allow me.” Darwyn closes the distance between us and I’m a moment too late realising what she’s about to do when she winds up so I’m completely open when she takes the last couple steps at a clip and jumps up so she can slap me across my face with full force. She hits me so hard I reel backward, the pain slow to hit me while I fight for balance. I barely register that Krakka must’ve shifted when she did it, but again restrained himself, warning me he’s still not sold on her innocence quite yet.

“Fuck’s sake, Dar!” I snarl as I rub my smarting jaw, giving her a proper death glare. “I’m not shitfaced! That was totally –”

“We need you sober, genius.” Kesla turns to Shay. “You’re dressed for it, I want you to jump ahead with …” She frowns, regarding Gael now. “Shit. Can you port right now?”

“I’m all right, Kesla.” Gael gives her a surprisingly cold glare. “I’ve taken worse hits than that and still come through when I’ve needed to. I can do this now. Who am I taking?”

“Shay, and you might as well take Krakka too. Just in case there’s any healin’ needs doing when you get there. Just in case.” She looks at me again. “And Art, if he’s fit for it.”

Darwyn steps towards her now. “I can go, if –”

“No, I want you close. I still ain’t convinced yet.” The look she gives my ex when she looks ready to argue is enough to silence her on the spot.

“It’s cool, I’m all right.” I start checking my gear over, then remember I shed my swordbelt before I settled before. Now where did I –

“We don’t have time for this, Art.” Krakka’s suddenly at my side, which surprises me, and he’s already gotten hold of my wrist before I realise what he’s actually about to do. “I’m sorry.” He starts muttering under his breath and his hand grows warm almost instantly, and I remember that time back in Haniled just too late to try and protest.

Basically the fuzziness is being yanked from my skull all at once, and not pleasantly, either. Sure, I get that warm, tingling sensation like when Krakka heals me, but there’s a great deal of particularly intrusive discomfort as well, and the abrupt clearing of my senses comes with a very sudden awareness of everything around me which is so jarring it’s like being punched. With a really big, really solid fist. I reckon it’s probably a bit like getting a half-strength crack in the gob from Bloodmoon, actually. I stumble, I can’t help it, it’s so completely unexpected and unwarranted because I had no chance to prepare for it. Sure, afterwards I’m clear-headed and steady again, but I sure ain’t fucking thankful. “Oh … you bastard. I hate that.”

Krakka holds onto me for another long moment, his other hand at my back now while he waits to see if I might topple after all, but I’ve found my feet again, even if I ain’t happy about it. “It’s much quicker and far more efficient than strong coffee, Art, and we do not have the time to wait for you.” He steps away now, and looks round at the others. “Anyone else, before we go?”

Nobody looks particularly enthusiastic about offering themselves up and I can’t blame any of ‘em. Instead Gael steps up, taking a deep breath as they prepare themselves, and Shay’s taking a moment to check her own gear over, already standing by. I’m a moment remembering she’s dressed in her fancy new armour, the suit she got from the Academy, but now I really can’t look away from it, she looks incredible now she’s cleaned it.

Then Kesla steps up again, and she’s thrusting something right at me – my swordbelt. Ah, yeah. I reach out with surprisingly steady hands and collect it from her. “Thanks.” I look up into her eyes now as I start to unravel the belt in preparation for strapping up. “Hey, boss … um … please go easy on Dar. She’s on the level, I promise you.”

That makes her frown down at me as she considers for a long moment, finally turning to give the halfling a deeply critical look. “She better be. We really don’t have time for this shit.” She turns back and fixes me with a glare that’s all business. “Just keep your mind on the fight, Art. We ned you sharp and focused.”

Cinching it snug so I can buckle the belt in place, I fix her with my own sharp stare. “I know. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Her expression softens, just a little, but there’s the start of a somewhat sad smile now as she reaches out and ruffles the shaggy fur on top of my head before I can react. I bat her hand away before brushing my paw through to straighten it out as best I can, but I can’t help ruefully grinning back. “Oi.”

“Just watch yourself.”

“I will.” I finish buckling and make my final adjustments in the lie of my blades while the others start making their own preparations. Yeslee’s thrown off her cloak now and is unstrapping some of her gear, and I realise she’s working on freeing up the strap on her bag of holding so those who aren’t coming straight away with us can get at whatever they’ve stashed in it.

“Do you want your father’s armour?” she asks Kesla as she’s finally able to free the strap, working on slipping it over her head so she can lift it off.

“No, there ain’t time. I’ll make do with my old half-plate.” Kesla’s already shed her jacket, now unbuckling her own swordbelt so she can start making her preparations. Clearly she wants to go in properly armed and armoured.

“Are you ready?” Gael’s question wrests my attention away and I turn to look up at ‘em, a little surprised. They look anxious, but not much more than I usually see in ‘em before we go into a fight. They’re already looking somewhat better, I realise, nowhere near so drawn now. Steady on their feet, too.

“Am I?” I give ‘em a sly little smile, putting on as brave a face as I can muster, and hold out my hand. “What about you?”

They don’t answer, instead just giving me a look, one I know well enough to make me grin wider. Finally they heft their staff with their right hand and take mine with their left before turning to the other two.

Shay’s finished checking her gear, snapping Ashsong’s sword back into its scabbard as she turns to us, and she takes a calm, grounding breath. Krakka, meanwhile, has shouldered his hammer again, already reaching out to take hold of the shaft of Gael’s staff with his free hand, nodding up at the young half-orc with a reassuring smile. Finally Shay reaches over and lays her hand on my shoulder, giving it a companionable squeeze.

“Okay, then.” I sigh, looking up at Gael. “Let’s go.”

As they take a deep breath to utter their incantation, I take my own, a good deep one I intend to hold since I remember from experience it seems to make the journey smoother, and close my eyes, tightening my grip on Gael’s hand just a little, which they seem happy to return as they speak that strange, uncanny word that’s felt rather than heard. In the same instant I feel that weird tugging, swirling pull from inside while I simultaneously seem to just drop … and then my feet just touch down on somewhat uneven, loose rocky ground that makes me stumble even more than I would’ve done already.

Immediately letting go of Gael’s hand so I don’t accidentally drag her down, I tear my eyelids open quick so I can take in my new surroundings while I just throw myself forward, intent on turning my stumbling fall into a roll so I don’t hurt myself. Except that the ground really is genuinely uneven here, turns out we’ve ported onto some kinda waste ground, and half of it’s on a bloody slope. So I immediately go flying. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” I recognise Thel’s voice, coming from somewhere to the right, but I don’t bother trying to fix on her position right now, I got way more pressing matters to attend to right now. Thank fuck I didn’t think about drawing a blade before we ported, in preparation of something coming at me, cuz I likely would’ve just stabbed myself with it. Instead I flip hard over and land on my upper back, and before I can even try to right myself I turn a clumsy cartwheel in mid-air before landing on my side and bouncing again.

A surprisingly loud cracking sound alarmingly close to my ear alerts me to the fact that, in spite of everything, this pure accident actually just saved my life as an arrow digs itself a good three inches deep into the crumbly packed dirt where my head just was. I land on my other side and roll once, ending up on my back, but I don’t register any real damage beyond some light bruising under my armour, or maybe my adrenaline’s just pumping too fast and hard for me to yet notice anything worse. So I’m moving almost before I’m settled again, snapping up into a flip onto my feet just in time to dodge another arrow that was clearly intended to skewer me where I’d landed.

“ART!!!” I hear Gael shout loud somewhere to my left, but I’m really not inclined to try and find anyone as I throw myself forward, mindful that I’m a sniper’s target right now. Whoever they are, they got real skill, the fact they ain’t caught me already’s pure luck, and I ain’t willing to stay still long enough for ‘em to pick me off before I know where the hell they are.

Two more arrows skitter through the rough scree behind me as I roll again, starting to weave soon as I found my feet again and keeping good and low as I make a rough, haphazard circle back the way I already come. As I go I try to take in what surroundings I can while I’m concentrating on my path, and all the way I go my heart in my throat as my back itches and I fight the largely unconscious urge to tense up in anticipation of getting a more precise shaft buried between my shoulders. Just in time for a sudden, blinding conflagration to burst close by on my right and light everything up clear as day.

Wherever the hell we have landed, it’s somewhere there ain’t a whole lot of ambient light now that night’s fallen. I suspect we’re on some scrap o’ waste ground somewhere in the Drumhalt, probably the Lower Heath, so while there’s houses with lights burning in their windows in the perimeter around us they could be at least thirty yards off on either side of us right now. All there is overhead is starlight, and while that’s more than enough for me to be able to pick up my surroundings others could be a lot more screwed by their natural lack o’ nightvision. Gael and Shay should be all right, and I know Thel and Dumoli, if they’re both here, are fine too since they’re dwarves, while Brung’s goblin eyes are likely even better for these conditions than my own. But Krakka’s blind as Kesla without her goggles, so this sudden flare o’ fire couldn’t have come at a better time.

Not that that’s likely to be the intention here, mind. The fireball hits maybe five feet shy o’ me and that’s far enough for me to not get instantly burned by the impact, but even so I feel the immense heat of the burst and it still throws me back as much as I instinctively jump away from it. I bring my arms up in front of my face largely without thought, and as I half-stumble, half-fall way from the blast I largely just feel another arrow barely miss me, this one nonetheless brushing by close enough I feel the subtle sting of its passage just over my shoulder. I hit the ground and sprawl, and before I can even think of righting myself a body’s descending on me and I just react on instinct.

“Come on, we’ve got to –” Shay practically falls onto her arse as she stumbles back, raising her hands in clear surrender as I draw both daggers, already preparing to hurl one at her face before I quite recognise her. “Fuck … it’s me! Don’t kill me, you bloody moron!”

“Shit!” I snarl, rolling onto my side and getting up onto one knee quick as I can, already scrambling to push myself up into a crouching run while she starts to scrabble up too. “Watch it, there’s a fucking archer out here taking some bloody wicked pot-shots at us!”

“DOWN!!!” I hear Krakka bellow at the top of his gravelly, rasping lungs, and I flip both knives round in my hands at once as I throw myself hard at Shay before she can react enough to stop me. I bear her down to the ground just in time for two more arrows to whip through the air right where she was standing … and a single beat before Krakka brings a suddenly bright white Bloodmoon down on the ground just twelve feet to our right and the whole world seems to split open with a great deafening crack. The accompanying flash is bright enough to sear eyeballs right in their sockets, so I’m glad for the warning, having already clamped my lids shut tight as I land on top of my friend.

To me, it seems like the whole Heath shifts under us, I’m thrown off Shay soon as we land. There’s a great rumbling, cracking sound of great rending in the ground around us, and as I chance a slit-eyed glance at the results I see the initial flare’s mostly dispersed. Even so, there’s still a whole lot o’ light here now, beside the burning bushes and scorch-marks from the fireball there’s a brighter, more intense flaring from the cracks as they split and spread around us like spiderwebbing glass. One such trail of which is coming right at us.

Again I snap: “Shit!” under my breath as I scramble to right myself. Shay’s rolling over so she can sit up, holding her head now, and she looks pretty shook, reckon she wasn’t prepared for that effect like I was. She blinks, having to squint somewhat as she tries to take me in, and it takes her a beat to focus. Looks like she might’ve caught a little o’ the flash herself.

“Art … what the … what the fuck –”

I don’t bother saying anything, I just grab hold of her as I stumble up onto my feet, giving her arm a hard yank and hoping she’s at least with it enough to start moving so I won’t wind up just dragging her. She squawks awkwardly for a moment and almost brings me right back down again, but then she peddles her legs a bit and manages to get a knee under her solid enough to start pushing off, and I just tighten my grip as I pull harder.

“Oh for the … Art, just get off me!” she snarls after a moment, shaking me off, and she nearly drops right on her face on the spot, barely managing to catch herself in time. The look she gives me as she weaves on the spot, fighting to maintain her balance on rubbery legs, is a particularly lethal one, but I’m too pumped up right now for it to touch me.

“Get your shit together, Shay!” I snap back, casting about for a moment until I locate my daggers again and stoop to collect ‘em from the dirt. “Something’s … I dunno. It’s fucked!”

“Really?” She fixes me with a colder, more sarcastic glare now. “You think?”

Holding my tongue this time as I fight the urge to cut her with the retort in my head, I just turn a quick circle, taking in our surroundings again. The cracking seems to have stopped at last, but the bright blazing whiteness emanating from the split ground ain’t fading, Krakka clearly deciding to address his own shortcomings in this particular situation pretty directly. The fact neither me or Shay’ve been shot on the spot while we’ve been sniping suggests the archer, wherever they are, might’ve been blinded in the process, which is a helpful plus. But I know it won’t last, and now there’s a little too much illumination for whoever’s out there.

“Watch out.” I growl at her now, sidestepping with the nearest line of light at my back as I start scanning the darkness. Frustrated my nightvision’s proper shot right now with all this shit going on.

“For what?” Shay hisses, shaking her hands like she needs to loosen ‘em up again.

“Just …” I wave both daggers vaguely around, giving her a sour look. “Stuff. I dunno.” Not wanting to argue, I turn my back on her and start tracking up the slope again. All the time looking out, and listening too. So far all I can really hear is Shay as she spits another curse under her breath and starts to follow me.

Just cus we’re no longer under fire don’t mean I feel any safer. What we just jumped into … clearly there’s something happening here, like whatever Thel and the others had gotten into had turned into a whole mess of trouble. The fact that I ain’t heard much of anything since Krakka set off his crazy god blast just … works at me.

I dunno, maybe we just got lucky, maybe Krakka’s trick scared ‘em off, whoever it was. Yeah. Sure. They’re chucking fireballs round and then they get scared away by a little god magic? ‘Course they did, Art. That’s exactly what happened.

The first movement on my right puts paid to that theory, I catch the barest flicker of something in the corner of my eye that’s gone when I turn. That being said, it’s still just too fucking dark out here, too much with that bloody light at my back fucking with my nightvision. It’s easier to sneak up on me right now that I’d like, there’s plenty o’ places to hide. Jumbles of stumpy bushes, mounds of trash, it’s less common ground than a small, cluttered waste really. Chancing a look back at Shay, I see her squinting in the same direction, looking deeply suspicious, like she saw the same thing I did, and don’t like it any more’n I do.

As we approach the centre of the great glowing breach in the ground, I start to catch fresh movement there, and I tense up, unsure if it’s an actual threat or not. I slow my climb and start to circle round a little looser, and as I start to turn I see Shay drawing her sword through the corner of my eye, dropping back a little bit but still coming, still wary like me. I tighten my grip on the knives and start to sidestep with more purpose, focusing on the half-glimpsed movement beyond the strange billowing, somewhat smoky off-white radiance that keeps bubbling up from the cracks, ready to throw …

Then I realise it’s Krakka and I check myself. He’s pacing back and forth, holding Bloodmoon one-handed now, moving with a furtive urgency now, and more than a little stress, I notice. “Gael? Gael! Where are you?”

“Krakka, you okay?” I step out into the relative clear now and I can see how desperate he looks as he’s casting about now, clearly more than a little rattled now, and I’m a moment realising his leather armour’s unusually dark, even in this fitful light. Slick too. I’m another beat realising why … he’s bleeding, a lot, from his head, and it’s running down across his shoulder and free arm, down his back. And now I realise there’s a touch of sluggishness to his movements, a slightly shaky sway. “Hey, c’mon –”

“GAEL!!!” He yells it at the top of his somewhat scratchy, gritty voice, like he don’t even hear me. I step forward now, slipping my left hand knife back into its scabbard so I can reach out for him. I start to say his name –

“Art!!!” I hear Shay shout behind me, and I turn fast, hand already going to retrieve the weapon I just sheathed again, just in time to see her get barged hard off her feet before she can even swing her sword, and she goes down in a great floppy tangle. It’s hard enough for me to even see whoever it was who knocked her down, they’re moving so fast. Feinting fast to the side and then whipping away before I can catch proper sight of ‘em. Fuck … moving like a prowler.

The sword stroke comes so fast I barely manage to react in time. I twist aside, ducking quick, and narrowly avoid decapitation as I scramble to the side as the dark blur sweeps past me. My feet skid out from under me in the uneven scree, and I’m close to going down as I peddle, but I don’t get cut down in the interim so I just turn towards the threat and start moving forward to counter the imbalance. Just in time to see Krakka take a wild, uncoordinated swing at … something, only to unbalance himself as he just hits air. Then the attacker finally stops moving long enough to hook the more stable foot out from under him and the other one gives out without the slightest argument.

It takes me a moment to make sense of what I’m seeing, I almost guess dragonhalf but the smell’s strange enough to tell me I’m wrong. I never actually met an imori myself, I only encountered some o’ the other yokai races in my travels, so I mostly recognise this species by description. They’re rarity enough in Rundao that it’s a genuine surprise to actually encounter one, these cold-blooded reptiles don’t tend to like it north of Abharet. ‘Specially with winter setting in. But there’s one in front of me now.

My conviction that this one’s a prowler may not be quite correct, but his manner of dress and movements are enough to forgive the mistake. From his somewhat long neck down he’s dressed entirely in leather, black like my own and similarly well-outfitted, the plate light and flexible but affording fair protection given he’s so quick and agile. He’s a good deal taller than I am too, taller than Shay even but similarly willowy lean, although his clear wiry strength which puts me more in mind of Yeslee. I saw the hit he dealt knocking Shay down, there’s no doubt he would’ve taken my head without even having to try.

He's definitely got one o’ the most unusual faces I seen in my days, shaped more like a serpent’s than a lizard’s, somewhat snub-nosed but still pronounced in the snout, and it’s hard to imagine him being capable of great expressive range. His eyes are surprisingly large, the kinda bright yellow that almost glows, and the slitted pupils are open wide given the dark, although I understand they see more by sensing body heat than through catching light anyway. In place of ears he has strange fan-like crests that flare out from behind his cheeks, and there’s another, more pronounced one running down from the back of his head. What I can see of his hide seems to be made up of leathern scales wearing a somewhat dappled patterning of various shades of green, palest under his chin and inside his throat. A long, lashing prehensile tail completes his feral visage, longer and thicker than my own and I imagine it’s as much an effective improvised weapon as useful counterbalance.

He's got several blades strapped to him in prowler fashion too, all curved with fire-darkened bone handles to counter the light, and he’s holding another one in his kid-gloved left claw, but he holds a longsword in the right. It’s similarly styled to the others, the blade not smoke-darkened like I’ve seen some prowlers favour but instead purposefully fashioned from much darker steel, much like Guild work. It ain’t though, I’d recognise that anywhere and this is subtly different, but still equally good work. The long, curved fang of a blade clearly has a lethally keen single edge, and I’ve no doubt it’d make short work of me.

I got no chance taking this one with my knives, even if I tried throwing ‘em. No way either one would actually find their target, he’s just too fast, and with that sword his reach is too long. So I slide my daggers home again quick as I can while he’s turning to regard me, and draw the sword and long knife Shay gave me instead.

That strange snake head tilts to a curious angle as I do it, and a long, slender pink tongue flickers out from between his odd lips for a blink before whipping back inside again, provoking a chill. I dunno why, but something about this guy, just … it really rubs me the wrong way. Never mind him attacking my friends or trying to kill me, I think I just wouldn’t like him on principle. Bone deep, pure instinct …

“Sure you want to do that, pretty boy?” His accent’s thick, deepest Abharet like I expected, almost certainly from the steamy jungles far to the south, and his voice hushed and raspy with a sibilant hiss. More surprising, though is the clear mocking note in his tone. “It’s not likely to end how you’d like it to.”

“We’ll just have to see ‘bout that, won’t we?” I give him my best wicked grin, working on looking a whole lot more confident than I feel about my chances. “I killed fancier blokes’n you in my time, mate.”

He actually grins at that, revealing a mouthful of startlingly pronounced, needle-sharp interlocking fangs. Fuck … I bet that’s a lethal enough bite all on its own. “Oh, you’re just adorable, aren’t you? Shame, really. But I don’t think so, not this time. Tham?”

When I catch the taut snicking sound of a releasing bowstring startlingly close by I make the association just quickly enough to start reacting, but this archer’s clearly just as good as I thought they were. So while the shaft don’t catch me square through the heart like I’m sure it was intended to, it still punctures clean through the thick, boiled leather of my right pauldron and sinks deep into my shoulder. ‘Least they ain’t so strong as Yeslee, so I ain’t hurled ten feet back right through the goddess-light, but it knocks me down all the same, and I can’t help crying out when the pain finally flares in me as I land hard and roll. Mostly because when I flip over the fletched end of the arrow catches in the broken pack-dirt and the shaft snaps, jogging in my shoulder, and the whole world goes white as a white hot stabbing shoots bright and hot right through me …

I pick up someone screaming my name as I go sprawling again, but they seem oddly distant, likely I’m too closely focused on the now badly torn wound in my shoulder and the focused agony it’s causing me as I just curl up with a winded hiss. I reach for the wound, feeling the hot blood pumping from it long before I get close, telling me I’m bleeding a lot now, and I realise I’m fucked. Great, this is just going fantastic, ain’t it?