‘I think my mare’s thirsty,’ Webber said. ‘Waterhole’s coming up. Let’s stop for a few minutes.’

‘At the waterhole? I’d rather not,’ said Caruso.

‘C’mon man, everyone stops at the waterhole. It’ll be fun!’

Caruso doubted that, but Webber was already angling his mare off the main path towards where a dozen or so horses were hitched to trees. A Forester had just mounted his horse and waved a greeting as he trotted past. Caruso exchanged a curt nod, while Webber ignored the man, keeping his gaze firmly ahead.

The waterhole was basically a large stagnant pond surrounded by mud which for some reason had become a popular hangout spot amongst gatherers. There were plenty of other spots that were quieter and offered cleaner water. Yet here we are.

They walked their mares to the pond. Chatter confronted them on all sides from gatherers relaxing in the low branches of the willow trees. The old stunted willows were the only good thing about the waterhole. They had long since given up reaching for the canopy and instead twisted and tangled themselves across the ground. Caruso noticed one contained an untouched cluster of breadshrooms sprouting from a high branch.

‘You want to try pick those breadshooms for the mares?’ Caruso asked, pointing them out. ‘If you do that, I'll take them to the pond for a drink.’

Webber squinted up at the tree. ‘Nice one. Didn’t see those there.’ He jumped down and set off on his task.

Caruso dismounted. Mud sucked at his boots as he led the mares to the pond’s edge where they began slurping at the water. A mosquito buzzed relentlessly at his face. Caruso brushed it away which did little to dissuade the annoying insect.

Within the background chatter of the gatherers, a single laugh stood out—low pitched and stuttering. Caruso froze. It was a laugh he recognised all too well. One that sent panic up his spine. He knew it belonged to one of the Vandeliers—he didn’t dare risk looking up to confirm it. If they hadn’t seen him yet, he wished to keep it that way. He didn’t even risk brushing away the mosquito for fear the movement might attract their attention. He kept his head lowered and slowly sank down between the two mares, holding himself in an awkward crouch.

It seemed to be working. Maybe there was a still a chance he could get away from this unscathed. But the longer he stood there, out in the open by the pond’s edge, the worse his chances became.

He tugged on the mares to speed them up, but they both refused to stop drinking. His legs burned from the half squat he was holding. He strained an ear to single out the Vandeliers from the other voices—he couldn’t hear them or their stupid laugh. But he did hear a couple of squelching footsteps coming his way. Closing his eyes, he prayed it wasn’t them.

‘You can stop hiding, Caruso. We see you.’

Shit.

It was over. He tried to think his way out of this, but the only thing going through his mind was his previous encounter with the Vandeliers. Being tied to that tree. Getting pissed on. The shame of being found like that by a Forester.

‘Haven’t seen you all week. Did you miss us?’ He wasn’t sure if it was the same Vandelier that spoke or not. Nor did he care. They were both the same in his mind.

Caruso tugged again at the mares. While his one had finished drinking, Webber’s continued slurping away, completely unaware of the situation developing. A wet wad of mud splattered against the back of Caruso’s head.

‘Look at us when we’re talking to you.’

Caruso turned, but pulled his mare in front of him as a sort of shield. The Vandeliers found this amusing.

‘So, Caruso, I’m going to Bob next week. Tell me, how much does your mother charge at her brothel?’

Caruso knew not to engage them. Just ignore them. Hopefully they wouldn’t get violent in such a public place. He looked around for Webber. What is taking him so long? He was no longer in the willow tree, instead he was chatting to a group of gatherers, showing off his breadshrooms, his back to the brewing storm.

‘Also,’ continued the same Vandelier. ‘Will your mum let me fuck her in the ass?’

The second Vandelier gave his stuttering laugh. ‘And does that cost extra?’

The mare's slurping finally stopped behind him. Caruso pulled the mare away from the pond when another wet wad of mud slapped the side of his head.

‘I asked you a question,’ said Vandelier-one. ‘Will your mum let me fuck her in the ass?’

‘And does that cost extra?’ added Vandelier-two.

Caruso walked away sandwiched between the two mares. After a few steps he attempted to climb up on his mount, but his muddy boot slipped in the stirrup and he fell on his back. Both mares shifted away leaving him vulnerable, exposed, lying pathetically in the mud. The low pitched, stuttering laugh was all Caruso could hear, every other gatherer at the waterhole had stopped their chattering to watch. Squelching footsteps approached him.

Caruso wanted to die.

‘Caruso,’ it was Webber. ‘It’s okay, man. Get up.’

Webber helped him up with a strong hand. Caruso was too ashamed to look him in the eye. Once on his feet, he tried again to mount his mare—this time with a steadying nudge from Webber. Caruso had hoped Webber’s presence would dissuade the Vandeliers. But, if anything, it seemed to encourage them.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Vandelier-one took a step towards Webber. ‘What do we have here? Caruso didn’t tell me he had a boy—’

Webber jabbed him straight in the mouth. It came without warning, without a wind-up or back swing. Vandelier-one looked as surprised as Caruso felt. The look didn’t last long, as Webber followed it up with two more quick punches. A quick left, then a solid right to the nose. The crack was unmistakable. Vandelier-one dropped to the mud, bloodied and dazed.

Vandelier-two rounded on Webber, coming at him with a wild swing. Caruso winced; he knew firsthand how deadly those punches could be. But Webber calmly leant back, letting the fist fly past his face. He made dodging it look easy. Then he sprang forward, throwing quick controlled jabs, each one ending in a solid thump. Vandelier-two flailed his arms up to block, but Webber found the gap, again and again and again. Connecting with his jaw, his throat, his nose. And when the Vandelier buried his face in his arms, Webber drove his fist into his gut.

Caruso had never enjoyed violence. But it was a completely different thing watching it from the winning side. It went beyond the basic satisfaction of revenge. Each time Webber landed a punch, it added something to Caruso, bolstered him up, made him feel strong.

Vandelier-two threw a desperate hook, but Webber ducked and returned a savage uppercut to his jaw. Vandelier-two dropped limply to the ground. Silence fell across the waterhole. Vandelier-one stood up shakily, blood streaming from his broken nose, and looked between Webber and his downed brother. Webber stood his ground in front of Caruso, looking completely calm. Is he smiling? Vandelier-one backed away to tend his unconscious brother.

Webber climbed up on his mare. ‘Let’s get outta here.’

Caruso was suddenly aware that all eyes were on them. But he didn’t feel the need to shy away and hide. Instead he sidled up to Webber as they cantered out to the main path.

‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ Webber said, shaking his head as they cut onto the Zone 1 path. ‘I should not have done that.’

‘What are you talking about? Those were the Vandelier brothers. And you just… That was incredible!’ Caruso looked at Webber in awe. He could still hardly believe what had just happened. He closed his eyes, imprinting the memory firmly in his mind so he could never forget.

‘Please don’t tell Bozi about this,’ Webber said. ‘He would kill me.’

‘Of course. I won’t say anything. But you realize how awesome that was?’

Webber cracked a smile and slapped Caruso on the back. ‘Glad to be of service.’

Caruso felt a warm feeling as they continued up the darkening path together. Is this what having a friend is like?

—

Caruso and Webber continued down the main Zone 1 path. Sunlight had since fled the forest, replaced with the glow of bioluminescent shrooms.

‘Seems like there’s a lot more mushrooms out here,’ Webber said.

‘Seems that way, but they’re just easier to see at night.’

‘Quite a sight ain't it.’

Caruso agreed. He had always enjoyed the sights of the forest. But at night, it came alive.

Berryshrooms stepped up surrounding tree trunks in bright purple discs. Orangegills poked through the forest floor, revealing the lay of the land with thousands of fingers of orange light. Larger bluestems broke through the orange, adding their pulsing blue to the sea of lights.

And above them, countless other shrooms twinkled in the trees like many coloured stars. A soft breeze whispered through the canopy warbling the lights above with a dizzying effect.

The lack of daylight also had a way of emphasizing the forest life. Frogs croaked, insects chirped, and nightjars sung their beautiful song. Above, shroommoths fizzed about golden breadshrooms that shone like lamps from overhanging branches. It felt like the forest was welcoming Caruso back with a warm embrace.

The shroom lights produced enough light for the mares to continue happily down the path, and enough for Webber to read the note he pulled from his pocket.

‘Inkballs, orangegills, and dog’s vomit.’ Webber said. ‘So, how do we find these? Probably easier to find at night time, yeah? Feels like I can see every shroom around me.’

‘Actually, it's best to avoid the brighter shrooms, the ones with less bioluminescence are more potent.’

Webber looked sceptical, ‘You’re saying the bright ones aren’t better?’

‘Think of it like this. Shrooms develop their glow to attract animals and insects. But by focusing on and strengthening their glow, they stop developing their flavour or medicinal effects.’

‘But lots of nighttime vendors boast about how bright their shrooms are.’

‘Yea, well…’

Webber grinned, ‘Because they’re idiots.’

‘Likely true, although most customers will still buy a bright shroom over a dull one.’

‘So everyone’s an idiot except for us—got it.’ Webber looked thrilled with the revelation. ‘What about the shrooms on our list then, when do we start looking for them?’

‘Inkballs and dog’s vomit are all deep Zone 2 medicinals. Lets start with orangegills. You know them?’

‘Cut me a little slack. I’m not that dim.’

‘Alright then. Can you see any we should pick?’

Webber looked around at the thousands of orange and blue shroomlights carpeting the forest floor.

‘I’m assuming all the orange lights are orangegills.’

‘That’s right.’

Webber jumped off his mare. ‘Then let’s pick some.’ He made for a thick patch of bright orange lights, and started filling his basket. Caruso tried not to cringe.

‘Wait,’ Webber said. ‘You said the bright ones are rubbish, right?’

‘I did.’

‘So…’ Webber pointed at a less bright patch. ‘What about them?’

‘Those are better. But the best orangegills have no luminescence at all.’

‘How are we supposed to find them then?’

Caruso weighed the benefits of waiting for Webber to figure it out, verses simply telling him and moving on. He decided for something in between.

‘What do you suppose a cluster of un-lit orangegills will look like out here?’

Caruso assumed Webber would understand right away, but instead he walked around thinking about it. After a while, he looked down at a dark patch among the blue and orange groundshrooms. ‘Oh. Of course! Seems obvious now.’

Webber tipped out his bright orangegills, and began replacing them with perfectly dim ones. Once they had enough, Webber scratched “orangegills” off his list.

‘Okay,’ Webber said. ‘Now all we need is dog’s vomit and inkballs. Are any of them here in Zone 1?’

‘No. They are both deep Zone 2 medicinals.’

‘Gotcha.’

They remounted their mares and set off back down the track towards Zone 2.

‘So how far’s Zone 2?’ Webber asked.

‘I think we’re close.’

‘We’ve been in Zone 1 for hours…’

‘If you want another break, I have a garden hidden a little further ahead. I haven’t tended it for a couple of weeks, but there should still be some shrooms I can show you.’

‘Maybe next time. I think I’m nearing my limit for how much more I can learn. But why would you have a garden in the middle of the forest?’

‘To practice growing my own shrooms.’

‘Why?’ Webber asked. ‘I mean, they grow in the ground good enough.’

‘If you learn to control the growing conditions, you can grow shrooms that come out even better than wild ones. And it saves having to hunt for all the rare shrooms.’

‘Then why doesn’t everyone just grow shrooms at the start of Zone 1?’

‘It can be dangerous. If not done carefully, the shrooms will grow weak and get infected by parasites, like the vomiter. Which is impossible to detect until you’re—’

‘Erupting from both ends. Yeah, I’ve heard of the vomiter.’

‘But all the information about cultivating can be learnt from the library. I don’t know why more people don’t study it.’

‘Probably coz most people don’t become gatherers to read books.’

A couple of gatherers came down the path towards them. It was a small team on horseback, the bright glow of fresh shrooms diffused from their mushroom baskets.

Webber’s mouthed curled into a mischievous grin. ‘Looks like some bright mushrooms there lads! Nice one!’ He gave them a thumbs up.

Caruso repressed a chuckle but instead snorted loudly, then tried to cover it all up with a fake cough. The gatherers all stared and Caruso became suddenly fascinated with the back of his mare’s neck.