My shadowed stalker creeps forward.

Her knife shines in her hands.

“Raziel,” she whispers. “The time has come.”

I bolt up and instantly get ready to break into a [Blink] for my dear life. My sword’s not by my side, but maybe I could get behind the assassin and bolt downstairs before they strike.

The knife flashes as its bearer sprints towards me, and before my slow muscles can even react, I see the face that’s staring down at me with pure, unbridled rage.

Myra’s face.

“N-no!”

“It’s time for you to get what you deserve!”

I [Blink]for the door and end up falling down the stairs and banging my head on every single step. I rise, sensing the presence of bodies nearby, and as I scramble around trying desperately to escape – that’s when I hear it:

“CONGRATULATIONS, RAZIEL!”

I jerk my busted head up to see the hovel filled with Elves – the Glenmaidens cloaked in their white robes, Elves like Agnes and the commune girls from around Glenheim, Mia holding a jam-filled, creamy cake in her hands, and Swiftrunner at the head of the whole delegation.

“Sorry, Little Brother,” the wolf grins. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Hee-hee!” Mia laughs. “Look at his little face! He had no idea!”

I probably look like I’ve seen a ghost, and as I scan all their joyful faces I slowly turn to see Myra staring down at me with a kitchen knife in her left hand.

Her right one holds a liberal slice of puffy cake.

“Uh…Myra.”

She’s pouting like a teenager, and a few of her Glenmaiden sisters start chuckling amongst themselves.

“Dear!” one of them calls. “It seems our Myrathellon is fearsome even when she is delivering sweet treats to a pup!”

Amidst the laughter of the whole congregation, I look up at Myra’s almost tearful eyes.

“Hey,” I say. “Look – I can explain. In my defense, well, you looked –“

I’m stopped by her shoving her piece of cake in my open mouth.

“S-silence!” she says as she walks off to join the festivities. “And…enjoy.”

…

I’ll say this for the Elves of Glenheim – they know how to throw a party.

I’d often thought Mia and Myra’s home was a pretty tiny space. But tonight, for some reason, with like half the town packed into it, it actually felt like a proper home.

One local girl plays something called a citar in the corner – a many stringed instrument that her arms fly over with such speed that I’m sitting here thinking she’s got her own [Doggie Dash] ability going.

Her music fills the air along with the chat of Elves talking about something they’re calling the ‘New Dawn’. It sounds pretty important, and whenever the phrase comes up they dart their eyes towards me and stifle some giggles. None of them will tell me what it means – not even Swifty who seems to have totally integrated with the girls. He passes me a few looks of peace from his cushions with the commune girls fussing over him. He barely even growls now when they touch him. A few times during the night I meander over to pay my respects to the commune girls’ new God only to find he was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

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“A toast to the Lightborn!” Mia shouts from the stairtops. “A toast to Raziel – the Glenhound of Glenheim!”

Everyone cheers, raising their glasses to the air, and I’m almost certain that the swill they’re spilling down their throats is something alcoholic.

By the way Mia’s been leering at me most of the night – yeah – they’re probably on the funny juice.

So I take shelter in Swifty’s haven for a bit.

“Swift,” I say. “I have to admit – you all had me fooled.”

He winks at me through the multicolored hair extensions the elvish women have forced upon him. How they managed to grow them is beyond me.

“You and me both, Raziel,” he replies, bobbing his head to the music. “Myra and Mia were both insistent that we kept this a secret. I am not used to this idea.”

“I’ll bet,” I say, flopping down on a cushion next to him. “I’d have loved to have seen Myra’s face when Mia told her about this.”

“Her face?” Swiftrunner replies. “Little Brother, it was her idea.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never would,” he says, howling in joy as the bardic Elf finishes her latest tune.

Well, that’s something…Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen Myra all night.

Old Swifty’s keeping up his howls as the Elven singer starts belting out another song.

“You’ve really gotten more comfortable, I see,” I say through a gruff chuckle. “Whatever happened to all those Elvish conspiracy theories?”

“I suppose,” Swiftrunner replies with a lupine smile. “I am an old dog learning new tricks.”

I shake my head. “First, Myra starts showing that she doesn’t hate me. Now, you of all people are making dog puns. This night really couldn’t get any weirder.”

“Little Brother,” Swifty replies rather sternly. “You are blind if you do not see how Myra cares for you.”

I grunt in assent. “I suppose. I really did think that little hunting trip was all a ploy to kill me.”

“As did I, Little Brother. But then, we wolves have been trained in distrust. We harbor just as much hate for humans as these Elves and their Palka seem to. Sometimes we forget that it is such prejudice that blinds us. Where we should see people, we see only a hated group. But a person is more than their clan.”

“Like Aethel,” I say quietly.

He nods, and both our tails wag happily at the thought. “Like Aethel."

We lie together and take in the morose song of the bard, the bustle of the Elves with their drinks, and the atmosphere of the forested sanctuary outside slowly wafting through the open windows.

“You know, Swift, I suppose I never did thank you.”

He cocks an eye at me.

“For, y’know, coming all this way with me. I mean, I gotta admit, I thought you were a little cooku when I first met you, but you literally gave up everything just to help me.”

He sighs, sinking ever deeper into his fluffed-up throne of pillows.

“I took on my duty willingly. That is why I have been so restless of late – life here is too comfortable. It is too stable for the heart of a wolf.”

It dawns on me right now, as those words leave his painted lips, that there’s something I’ve never even considered.

“You miss home, don’t you?”

He smiles dryly. “Snappingjaw has no one to fight with without me.”

I push my nose into his paw, much to his surprise.

“I’m sorry, Swift,” I say. “Here I am messing around, training and eating and partying with Elves, and all the while you’re here waiting for us to continue on this journey.”

He ruffles the top of my snout with his own, and shakes his grey mane against mine.

“I knew the path to Glumgavel would be fraught with dangers,” he says. “It is right that you must train to face them. I have never doubted you, Little Brother.”

“That makes one of us.”

We lean back as the song ends and more drinks are poured. Agnes is shoving a cake into everyone’s mouth, and Mia’s flushed face is trying to find me in the crowd.

But there’s one person my eyes are looking for in the mix of sweaty Elvish bodies. One person I can’t find.

And there’s a persistent thought involving that specific person that’s been worming its way into my mind for the past week.

“Swift,” I say suddenly. “What do you think about adding someone else to our little party on the road?

His eyes widen in surprise.

“My thoughts mean little on the matter. You are the Lightborn. You are a natural leader of men and beasts.”

“Your words mean more than mine, Swift” I snort. “I’m just a dog who went vampire-mode on the wrong person. I couldn’t lead a horse to water. But I can give someone a chance to help this world out. Someone who actually wants to.”

After a moment, Swiftrunner smiles.

“I think that’s exactly what a good leader does.”

We share a final snoot-booping before I shake myself off and go about my newest quest: Find Myra.

CURRENT MAIN QUEST: FINISH THE-

Nope, I think as I sidestep a few of the Elves' busy hands.

It’s side quest time.