Slimantha stretched her arms as she walked down the red brick road. Her black shoes lightly tapped the red of the bricks beneath her. Unlit red brick lampposts lined the sides of the road. Warm sunlight cascaded down from above. A gust jostled the long brown locks of her hair. She lowered her arms, a smile upon her lips. Her brown eyes came to a familiar figure. Her footfalls stopped. She waved.

“Hey, Samuel!” she said. “How did it go with Tabitha?!” She shifted her weight to her right leg.

Samuel’s tired blue eyes went up from the road’s red bricks to the slime summoner calling to him. He blinked. “Oh, hi, Slimantha,” he said, and then ran up to the tan-skinned woman. He panted as he came to a stop. He wobbled a bit. Sweat showed upon his face. “I’m still recovering from that training session. Tabitha can be kind of intense.” He gave a laugh and put his right hand behind his head. The short brown locks of his hair glistened with sweat. He lowered his right hand and gave Slimantha a smile. “Tabitha says I’m getting better, so I guess that’s good. How did things go with Latril? Did she know anything about that scream?”

“Scream?” Slimantha blinked and then looked away, a slightly pink shade to her cheeks. “What is this scream you speak of?”

“You”—Samuel sweatdropped—“didn’t ask her about the scream, did you?”

“Sorry.” Slimantha bowed in apology. “I headed to her lair to ask about that scream, but”—she bowed again—“I mucked it up. Sorry.” She sighed and then dug into her right pocket. She pulled out a folded letter, the invitation she had received from Duckton. “I kind of got sidetracked by this. Latril and I both got invited to a celebration. We are going together.” She gave an awkward smile, and a drop of sweat rolled down her right cheek. “I didn’t actually get around to asking about that scream.”

“You’re going”—Samuel deflated—“with Latril.” He pulled a letter much like Slimantha’s letter from his left pocket. He unfolded it. His dead-looking eyes went to its contents. “I too have been invited to a celebration.”

“Ooh, let me see!” Slimantha moved beside Samuel. Her left shoulder pressed against his right shoulder. Her eyes went to Samuel’s letter. Then she held out her own letter. “Hey, look. It’s the same celebration.” She maneuvered in front of Samuel so she and Samuel were facing one another. “You should go with Latril and me.” She smiled a marvelous smile.

Samuel blinked. The life came back to his eyes, and he perked up. His eyes—his blue eyes—met Slimantha’s beautiful brown eyes. “Sure, let’s go together,” he said. “Sounds fun.” He gave Slimantha a big smile and then turned his attention to his letter. He folded it up and returned it to his left pocket.

Slimantha shifted her weight onto her left leg as she put her own letter away, returning it to her right pocket. Her eyes went back to Samuel, and she smiled. “There’s still some time before we have to pick up Latril. Anything, you want to do?”

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“Well”—Samuel just stood there for a moment—“I’m kind of drawing a blank.” He blinked. “Maybe we should head back to Tabitha’s Apartments and check Mimi’s apartment for clues.”

A certain slime summoner brought her right hand to her lips. Giggles slipped out from between those lips, earning a glare from a certain hero. Finally, she said, “You still so want to pick that lock, don’t you?”

“Fine.” Samuel sighed. “I do want to pick that lock, but it’s kind of a waste if I never get to use my lockpick.”

“Come!” a third voice bellowed.

Slimantha blinked. So too did Samuel. They both turned to the direction of the interrupting voice. Their eyes fell upon a lone crow in an alley. The black-feathered creature just stood there, its beady black eyes on Slimantha and Samuel.

The crow’s beak opened, and its voice came forth. “Come!” it said again.

“Is that …” Samuel blinked. His blue eyes were on the crow. “Is that crow talking?”

Slimantha glanced at Samuel. She huffed. “Of course it is talking,” she said. “What is so odd about a crow talking?”

“Well”—Samuel glanced at Slimantha—“I have seen you conversing with crows before, but do they usually say something in common?”

Slimantha’s brown eyes went back to the odd crow. “I suppose you do have a point about that,” she said. “I wonder if it can say anything else in common.” She glanced at Samuel again, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe we should follow it.”

“Follow a sus crow that says, ‘Come!’ into an alley?” Samuel watched the odd black-feathered creature. His eyes met its beady black eyes. “How about we don’t do that?”

The peculiar crow narrowed its eyes and then turned away from Slimantha and Samuel. Had Samuel offended it perhaps? “Come!” it said. It spread its wings. “Come!”

“Quick,” Slimantha said, nudging Samuel. “It’s about to take off. We have to move now, or we will lose our chance.”

“Fine,” Samuel said, giving in. “Let’s get this over with.” He and Slimantha took off into the alley. The odd crow took flight. The chase was on.

“Faster,” Slimantha said, her eyes set upon the low-flying crow leading them deeper into the alley. “It’s getting away.” Her black shoes pounded the alley’s gray paving stones. Beige buildings lined the alley on both sides.

“I’m running as fast as I can.” Samuel’s black shoes pounded the alley’s paving stones with a frantic fury. His short brown hair jostled with his movements. Sweat poured down his face. “How haven’t you even broken a sweat yet?!”

“Broken a sweat?” Slimantha glanced back at Samuel and sweatdropped. The hero had most certainly broken a sweat. Her eyes then went back to the crow soaring down the alley ahead of them. It would lose them if this kept up. She bit her lower lip. “I got it.” She adjusted her strides so she was just in front of Samuel. “Get on.”

“Get on?” Samuel’s eyes were on Slimantha. “You mean get on your back? I’m not a kid.” Samuel’s strides were slowing. His breath came out in heavy puffs.

Slimantha glanced back at Samuel. “Just get on. Otherwise, that crow is going to lose us.”

“Fine.” Samuel climbed onto the slime summoner’s back.

Slimantha’s cheeks became tinged with pink. She could feel Samuel’s sweat. The awkward positioning of his hands weren’t helping matters much either. “You mind”—the pink on her cheeks deepened—“repositioning your hands.” His hands shifted. Her blush faded. “Thanks.”

Slimantha turned her attention back to the low-flying crow. Viscous blue materialized around her shoes. The blue coalesced into a pair of boots over said shoes. She kicked off. Her slime boots touched down but not upon the gray stones paving the ground. Instead, she ran upon the very walls of the beige buildings lining the alley. She rushed onward, the alley zipping by. The gap between her and the crow closed.