“Power Word: Fall.”

Will jerked upright. It was still dark, and the fire had burned down to popping embers. The troll sat beyond its failing light, but with his 6 points in Senses, Will could still just about make out his great shape, sitting cross-legged in the dark.

Everyone else was asleep. There was no sign of the chimps.

“Gug?” Will asked, keeping his voice neutral. “What are you doing?”

Gug turned his head, beady eyes glinting in the dark. “We have a thief.”

There was something different about his voice. More articulate, more confident, with a dangerous edge beneath it all.

He pointed to one of the sleeping shapes. Will pulled on his boots so he could stand up, working his leg to settle the stump into the prosthetic. He staggered over there, and Gug followed him with his unblinking gaze.

As it turned out, the sleeper he’d indicated wasn’t so much sleeping at all. It was Oatmeal, groaning with his face pressed to the ground. He wore one of the large packs, and one of the saddlebags lay fallen next to him.

“Are you all right, Gug?” Will asked, more unnerved by him at the moment than any potential thief.

“I’m not Gug,” the troll said smoothly.

“O… kay?”

“I’m his brother. You can call me Nug.”

The troll reached out his hand, and Will shook it on instinct. He felt like a toddler with that massive slab of meat enveloping his whole hand and wrist.

“I’m guessing this is the thing he was talking about,” Will ventured. “The Brainstorm thing.”

Nug nodded. “He calls for me when he needs help. I keep him out of trouble.”

“I see.”

“You freed him from bondage. I appreciate that.”

There was something about hearing the troll speak so eloquently in his normally thick, clumsy voice that was thoroughly unnerving.

“I’m happy I did,” Will replied. “He’s already proving to be a valuable member of the team.”

“Good. I’m happy you’re getting along.” Nug cleared his throat. In a pleasant tone, he said: “Because if you hurt him, I’ll fry your brain.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that sounded like a threat.” Will glanced down at the troll’s arm. Six of his eight crystals had gone dark. “You’re awfully low on AP for that kind of talk.”

Nug was unfazed. “What I mean is, don’t try to take advantage of him thinking he doesn’t know any better. Because I know.”

“All right, then. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Nug motioned towards the man lying on his belly. “Would you like me to kill him?”

“No,” Will said firmly. “He tried to make off with our supplies, is that what I’m getting?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened to the chimps?”

“He told them he would take over the vigil, and they returned to their master. He thought Gug was asleep, too, but he was still up reading the book you gave him.” Nug gave Will a long, meaningful look. “Next time you give him reading material, make it something with a little more substance.”

Will smiled. “Fair enough, big man.”

“Either way, this fellow gathered up as much loot as he could carry and tried to abscond with it, so Gug called for me, and here we are.”

“Thank you.” Will was about to approach Oatmeal, then stopped and turned halfway around again. “Out of curiosity, how would you have gone about killing him?”

Nug grinned, his teeth shining like daggers in the faint firelight. “A fool once told me: Don’t go picking berries out of a bear’s mouth.”

Ah. He’s into that fortune-cookie wisdom too. How nice.

Will went over to Oatmeal, who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground, and crouched down in front of his face so the Explorer could look up at him. Maybe it was a wasted gesture. He didn’t know how much Oatmeal could see in the night, but probably not a lot.

“Whatcha doing, friend?” Will asked sweetly.

“Stealing,” Oatmeal mumbled into the dirt, sounding comedically nasally with his nose all squished flat.

“An honest thief, how refreshing.” Will clapped the back of Oatmeal’s head. “Thanks for sparing me the whole interrogation portion of this conversation.”

“You gonna kill me?”

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“Didn’t you just hear me say I wouldn’t?”

“I heard you tell the troll not to kill me. Maybe you want to do the honors yourself.”

“I’m not much for honor.” He sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”

“Why?”

“We all get one, Oatmeal.”

“One what?”

“One fuck-up. Intentional, I should say. Accidents happen all the time, and that’s no one’s fault.” He turned his head towards the troll. “Undo the Power Word, please.”

A few moments later, Oatmeal was able to wriggle out of the pack and roll onto his back with a gasp of relief. Will helped him sit up.

“Thank you,” Oatmeal said. He let some time pass in silence, with only the faint crackling of embers to fill the dead air. “I was afraid, that’s all. All this talk about monsters and everything, I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.” He held up his hands. “But I won’t do anything like this again, I promise. I’ll behave, boss.”

Will nodded and gave his shoulder a reassuring clap. “Good. Because when you get to fuck-up number two, we’re not gonna have this conversation again. I’m just gonna blow your fucking brainpan out.” He stood up with a tired groan. “Right, back to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Oatmeal stared at him like he was in a bad dream. He glanced over at Nug, but found no comfort there.

Then he hurried off to replace the supplies he had taken, and laid down to sleep, although Will doubted he’d get much rest.

“Thanks for the assist,” Will said to the troll. “I guess I’ll make the reward out to your brother?”

“I’m sure he will appreciate it,” Nug replied with a courteous nod.

*****

When Gug was told in the morning that he’d be getting double rations that day, he became so overtaken by glee that he hugged Mongrel nearly in half.

They made an extravagant breakfast from some of their fresh goods; bread, cheese, butter. They even fried up some eggs. A few of them had gotten smashed up during Oatmeal’s failed caper, but enough of them survived for everyone to get a share.

Bee assembled a huge sandwich out of her fixings, adding a bit of extra jerky into it for good measure.

For a while, everyone looked happy. Everyone except Oatmeal, who had his eyes firmly trained on the ground. At least he had the sense to feel guilty.

Will didn’t tell anyone about what he had done, and if Gug remembered, he didn’t make any indication of it.

They got back to it a short while after dawn, before most other travelers. That gave them an hour or two to enjoy an empty road.

Gug read from his book as he walked, gingerly turning the little pages with his huge fingers and occasionally giggling to himself. To Will’s shock and amazement, the troll avoided walking into any tree trunks or pot holes or low hanging branches, veering out of the way a step before disaster each time.

Maybe it was that genius he’d heard so much about finally making itself known.

“It’s amazing that Sam Weenie bedded twenty-two women in one night,” he said to no one in particular. “He must be very tenacious.”

“You know that didn’t actually happen, right?” Bee asked, walking next to the green behemoth.

He was dumbfounded, stopping dead in the road. “Wuh?”

“Yeah, it’s… made up by someone. It’s just a story.”

“A story?” He looked at Bee, then back at the book. “Who made it up?”

Bee shrugged. “Well, I dunno. Look inside the cover.”

He flipped over to the front of the book and read through it closely. “Francis… Two-Tongue.”

“There you go, that’s the author.”

“And he made all this up? By himself?”

“Most likely, yeah.”

“Just a fantasy?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Then he’s a genius too,” Gug determined with a firm nod.

He kept on walking, and he kept on reading.

Around midday Will heard a rustling off to their right. He pulsed Detect Life, and found that it was neither man nor monster. It was just a deer, watching them cautiously with its head peeking over a group of low bushes.

Figuring it was as good an opportunity as they would get, he had Bee take down the only other weapon they had brought for her—a greatbow that they kept strapped to Zero. It would be good for her to cultivate some ranged options.

She fiddled with it for a while to get the bowstring onto the impressive piece of woodwork, taller than she was. Eventually she managed it, and nocked one of the thick black arrows. She aimed, pulled back until both bow and string creaked, arms trembling from the effort, and loosed with a low whoosh.

The arrow went wide, burying itself in a tree a meter from the animal and splintering off pieces of wood and bark on impact. The deer bolted, gone in moments.

“Sorry,” Bee said sheepishly. “I guess I’ll need practice with it.”

“You’re strong enough to use it, that’s reason enough to be glad,” Will assured her.

As a consolation prize, they found a narrow stream when they went to fetch the arrow that they could use to refill their drained waterskins and wash their faces. It was cold and clear and sweet, and aside from a slight earthy aftertaste it was some of the best water he’d ever had.

But maybe that was just his dried-out throat talking.

They saw more corpses that day—a group of adventurers strung up in a tree by their entrails, all wrapped around their necks like bloody nooses. They looked fresh. All around them were footprints in the mud. Great big clawed ones.

That evening, when they camped out in the cavernous inside of a hollowed-out redwood, they put all the chimps up as guards.

There was howling in the night. Not just from one throat, either. Something was communicating, an unholy call and response that echoed through the woods. Sometimes closer, sometimes further away.

But always close enough to be worrying.

Will didn’t sleep much that night.

On the third day, they came to a crossroads. One continuing northeast, the other branching off directly north.

Will had never actually been this far into the country himself, but he knew what lay ahead well enough.

“If we keep on that way, we’ll go through Greensby,” he said, pointing down the northeastern road. “We don’t want to go through Greensby.” He pointed north. “This way’s longer since it skirts the whole town, but it’ll be worth it to avoid trouble.”

“What’s in Greensby?” Oatmeal asked urgently, eyes fixed on the northeastern road.

“Not people, I’ll tell you that much. Place used to be one of the major cities until it was overrun years ago. Most of the survivors fled to Sheerhome, and they swelled that shitty little trading town into the Heap we know and love, it being in a more defensible position and all. The monsters, they kept Greensby. I guess they like the place.”

“And if we take the other road, we’ll be safe?” Oatmeal sounded hopeful.

“Sure, bud,” Will said with a smile that he hoped didn’t look too patronizing. “Safe as can be.”

He watched as a group of three Explorers and an Artificer rounded them and took to the northeast, towards Greensby.

Best of luck, you poor bastards. Not that it’ll do you much good.