“I still can’t believe you went and dragged this thing along with us.”

Mongrel glared up at the troll while he trudged next to his horse, a hand on the bridle.

“You said you’d be fine with whoever I picked,” Will pointed out.

“Yeah, an Explorer, genius!”

“Wuh?” Gug asked, frowning at the little man below.

“Not you!”

“Oh. Okay.” Gug looked off in the distance again, tongue between his teeth.

“I got you an Explorer right there,” Will said, pointing back at Oatmeal, who was making up the rear and looking rather miserable doing it. “Gug’s just a happy surprise.”

“I’m a happy surprise,” Gug agreed, nodding seriously.

Mongrel looked about as convinced as he had the last four times Will had argued with him about it. “He’s gonna get us killed the moment we step into Timbryhall and some overzealous slayer sees that walking hunk of snot.”

Will held up a hand. “Woah, now. That sounded racist.”

“You’re damn right I’m racist. No trolls on the team, that’s my new policy.”

“He’s not very nice,” Gug remarked absently, still staring off into nothing.

“Agreed, Gug. He’s a spiteful little man who hates surprises and fun.”

“I like you, Gug,” Bee said with a sunny smile and clapped him on his huge arm. “Don’t let Mongrel get you down.”

“Thank you, tiny human. You’re a very good friend.”

Bee’s eye twitched at being called ‘tiny’, but she didn’t say anything.

It was only the first day, and the trip into the Bushland was already proving interesting. Managing the team had turned from wrangling a bag of cats, to wrangling a bag of cats with a dog thrown in.

Gug and Bee were carrying the heaviest loads, each one with a great big overstuffed backpack. Zero was weighed with all her saddlebags, while Will, Mongrel, and Oatmeal carried lighter packs. In addition, Will had of course brought his potion satchel along.

Nix carried no supplies at all, sprawled out on Zero’s back and enjoying the sight of the others laboring away, napping intermittently. She was like a house cat—nice to look at, but not very helpful.

It had been impossible to find clothes that would fit the troll before they left, so Will had had a Tailor whip something up for him. Gug had insisted on a suit as soon as he saw one on display in the boutique, and so was now the proud owner of a brown woolen three-piece, with a bowler hat atop his bald head to complete the look.

It might even have looked elegant if not for the fact that he was wearing bulky combat boots with it, and was already splattered up to his ankles in muck. Still, he was very pleased with himself, often stroking his clothes affectionately and grinning to himself.

The troll was incredibly easy to please, and carried just as much as the horse without complaint. For that alone, it was worth bringing him along.

Oatmeal was another matter. As soon as he found out what they were actually doing in the interior, his mood had turned sour, and was now resigned to sullen silence for the most part.

Regardless, Will wasn’t unhappy with him. He preferred a cowardly Explorer to a brave one—he’d last longer that way.

The road was more of a glorified trail; a wide, muddy furrow in the earth that wound through the forestation, sometimes leaving the placid Winewater river out of sight until they rejoined it again some time later.

Most of the travelers they saw on the road were either trade caravans with wagons and guards, or smaller groups of adventurers like them. Of the latter, 90% of those bright-eyed freshies would never return from their journeys.

The forest was filled with tall, thick-trunked trees, primarily oaks and redwoods. Walking among them, they made even the troll look small.

Only Will and Mongrel knew enough to be wary of what was out there, always watchful. Mongrel kept most of the boys safe inside himself so they’d burn less energy and therefore use up less supplies, but he had Number Two out and following along with the group, swinging from the treetops to get a bird’s eye view of any approaching threats.

They made no stops, eating lunch on the go—crackers, jerky, and dried fruit. They’d be getting plenty sick of that before the trip was over.

When Oatmeal went down to the river to refill his waterskin, Will had to tell him to stop.

“That water’s no good,” he said. “In Timbryhall they dump their waste straight into it, so unless you like dysentery, I wouldn’t try it.”

“Oh.” Oatmeal stood by the river’s edge, wringing his empty waterskin. “Where do we get our water from, then?”

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“There are plenty of smaller streams that connect up with the Winewater, and they should all be good.”

They carried on.

It was early afternoon when they saw their first casualties. A wagon had been flipped over on the side of the road and torn apart, broken planks and scraps of canopy strewn everywhere. Will counted eight bloody corpses, many missing limbs. The two horses had been killed, too—splayed open with their half-eaten organs arrayed about them.

“Monsters,” Will muttered. “Can’t say what kind. Maybe grinners.”

No one asked what a grinner was, and Will was happy that he didn’t have to elaborate. They weren’t particularly pleasant creatures.

Mongrel went to check the wagon for supplies, but it had already been picked clean. They moved on, simply stepping over the corpses that lay in the road.

Not half an hour later, Number Two gave a shrill, hooting call that warned of danger. Will’s hand was instantly on the pistol at his hip, heart thumping like mad. But when he looked around, he was relieved to see that it was just a group of bandits watching them from the treeline. With Detect Life, Will was able to see their outlines through the bushes and tree trunks. Five of them.

Using Identify on the one that appeared to be the leader, Will found that he was only Level 6. Not a threat.

The bandits let them pass without issue, just staring at them, unmoving. When they had made it a ways down the road, distant screams echoed through the forest. Presumably, they had found easier marks.

“Could’ve taken them,” Bee muttered.

Will sighed. “Next bandit we see, they’re all yours, I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

She looked good in her travel gear, all sweaty in her tight pants and linen tunic. She was almost fully recovered from her pit fighting shenanigans, her endurance on display with her stride equally long and energetic after hours of walking as it had been at the start of the day.

When light began failing, they started looking around for a suitable campsite. There was a spot by the side of the road where multiple traveling parties had come together to share fires and swap stories, finding safety in numbers.

Also a ripe spot to catch a shanking.

Will had them move a fair bit away from those people, venturing a few hundred meters from the road before they found a protected glen where they could take shelter away from prying eyes.

Bee gathered two armfuls of wood with a hatchet they’d brought, and Will made a fire just in time before it got pitch black. They all gathered around the crackling flames, and Mongrel cooked jerky and pemmican into a rough stew that they shared between them, some electing to crumble crackers over their portion for a bit of added texture.

Gug ate with a healthy appetite and finished first, then looked mournfully down at the little bowl in his hands.

“Remember what we talked about, Gug,” Will said. “You get an extra half ration a day ‘cause of your size, but if you want to eat any more than that, you’ll have to forage or buy it yourself. Understood?”

“I understand,” Gug replied, sounding like he was one step away from tears. “I’m just so very hungry, boss.”

“It’s all right. You’ll live.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

After dinner, Will spread out his bedroll next to Bee’s. He was happy to take the weight off his weary legs for the night, and equally happy to remove his foot prosthetic, which had been chafing all day. He applied a soothing salve to his red, swollen stump, then did the same for the burned side of his face and changed the bandages. It seemed to be healing all right—no sign of infection.

Mongrel and Nix were filling Oatmeal with frightening tales by the fire, ganging up on him with poorly suppressed glee. Bee somehow found the energy for some evening stretches, and Will busied himself by reading from the compiled text on inspiration.

Gug noticed him almost immediately, and furtively snuck closer to him—as much as a three meter behemoth could sneak—until he was looming over Will’s shoulder.

“What’s that?” Gug asked, all innocence.

Will cleared his throat, finding the troll’s attentive gaze rather distracting. “It’s not very interesting, Genius.”

“What’s it about?”

“Something technical.”

“I’m good at that.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah!” Gug said, great pride in his voice. “Maybe I could help you read.”

Will glanced up at the green-skinned lout. “Reading isn’t usually a cooperative activity, you know.”

“Okay. So, can I help?”

Will suppressed a sigh. He reached into his pack and dug around until he found the small book he was looking for, then handed it to Gug. “There. Why don’t you give that a shot? It’s a little bit technical for me, but you might understand it better.”

Gug’s face lit up with gaping, wide-eyed joy. “For me? Really?”

Will nodded patiently. “Mmhmm. It’s all yours, big guy.”

“Can I keep it?”

“You can keep it. Let me know if it’s any good. It’s got pictures.”

It was a pornographic novel that Will had bought for the express purpose of distracting Gug, having anticipated that his hunger for letters would become a nuisance. It was written in simple text, meant for those just learning to read True Tongue.

Gug ran off to enjoy his reading and left Will in peace. Thank god.

When everyone laid down to sleep, Will took Bee in his arms. They didn’t have the privacy for sex, and he didn’t have the energy for such an undertaking anyhow, but he still kissed her cheeks and neck a little.

“You smell,” she said through a fit of giggles.

Will shrugged. “You smell too. It’s not like it’ll get better anytime soon.”

She stroked his face, thumbing at the stubble on his cheek. “I’m happy we’re doing this. I don’t like how hard you were working yourself before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a decent chance we all get eaten by monsters in the immediate future, so maybe hold back on the praise for a bit.”

“How are you feeling now?” she asked, ignoring his last statement. “Better?”

“I’m still pissing blood, if that’s what you’re asking.” Seeing the worry in her firelit face, he smiled. “I feel a bit better. I’ll be back in peak form soon enough.”

“Good. Just let me know if I need to carry you.”

He chuckled. “Fuck off, Bee.”

The boys would take shifts to watch the camp. Their night vision wasn’t stellar, but at least they could make up for their lack of sleep during the day inside Mongrel, making them the optimal guards.

The forest came alive in the night. Animal calls, mostly. Sometimes it was hard to tell. The rustling of wind through the underbrush sounded like footsteps. A shrill howl pierced through the darkness, standing Will’s hairs on end. He gripped the pistol above his head, thumbing the safety.

Not an animal.

When the howl came again, sounding closer, he got spooked enough to pulse Detect Life.

There was nothing out there.

He was just being paranoid.

Bee fell asleep and promptly rolled over onto Will’s side, nearly choking him under one of her solid arms and snoring in his ear. For some reason, it was profoundly comforting.

Before he knew it, he was asleep too.