Slimantha’s black shoes pressed down into the lush green grass. A thick mist hung in the air, trees reaching up into said mist at both her sides. A soft glow of sunlight came down from above, filtering through the thick mist. Soft crunches came from beneath the slime summoner as she walked through this misty portion of Bleakfyre Forest.
Latril walked alongside Slimantha, the swird woman occasionally glancing into the mist. Her golden eyes—each containing the likeness of an upward-turned sword—pivoted to a tree. A slight frown came to her lips. Why did that tree look familiar? She glanced at another tree. Actually, all the trees were starting to look familiar at this point. She turned her eyes to the slime summoner walking at her right, and that slight scowl of hers went away. She then turned her attention back to the mist.
Behind Slimantha and her girlfriend, Latril, Samuel walked with Black and Rose at his sides. Black walked at the hero’s right, looking out into the mist. Her black feline tail swished as her brown eyes shifted from place to place. In fact, her tail’s swishing led to it brushing up against Samuel’s right leg. The contact of her tail against Samuel’s leg brought the hero’s blue eyes to her. She caught his gaze and gave him a little smile before returning her attention to the mist. Behind her, her tail continued to swish.
Rose, who walked at Samuel’s left, glanced at her hero. “What do you think of all this mist, Samuel?” the tall green-skinned plant woman said. She smiled when the hero’s eyes turned to her. “Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” She pressed a little closer to the hero, her right arm pressing up against his left arm. She smiled again—from the contact this time.
“The mist is kind of thick,” Samuel said, pulling a tad away from Rose and inadvertently walking into Black.
“Hey!” Black complained, almost having tumbled over. “Watch where you’re going!” Her tail twisted about, and her lips twisted into a smirk. Then she added, “Or did you mean to do that?” Now she pressed closer to the hero, whose cheeks promptly reddened. Then she pulled away, a series of snickers slipping out from between her lips. She reached up with her right hand to steady her black witch hat, a few snickers still slipping out from between her lips.
At the front of the group, a certain mimic who Slimantha had previously found in an alley walked. This mimic, Mitsy, led the group onward. Though she had agreed to take the group to Gold Mountain, her steps possessed an attribute of uncertainty to them. Was the uncertainty to her steps merely a product of a desire not to go to Gold Mountain, or was it due to something else?
Latril’s golden sword eyes turned to Mitsy. “Do you really know where you’re going?” the swird woman said. “You’re looking a little uncertain there.”
Mitsy glanced back at Latril. “Well”—the mimic came to a stop and fidgeted a bit—“this mist is kind of disorienting. Maybe”—she gave an awkward smile—“we should go back.”
Latril crossed her arms. “And which way is back?” She then slapped her right palm to her face upon getting a sweatdrop from Mitsy.
“You know what?” Rose said, addressing Samuel. Her pink eyes were on the hero, a smile on her lips. She leaned closer to the hero. “You totes deserve a woman who knows where she’s going.”
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“And do you know where we are going?” Samuel deadpanned, his eyes on Rose.
Rose blinked and then started shifting her weight uncomfortably. “W-Well …” she glanced into the mist. “This mist is so romantic, isn’t it?” Snickers then drew her attention to Black, who stood at the other side of Samuel. “This isn’t funny.” A pout spread across the plant woman’s face.
Latril’s eyes shifted from the snickering Black to Slimantha. “Just wait a moment,” the swird woman said. “I’ll get our bearings.” She spread her feathery black wings and went airborne. She wasn’t up long though. A short while later, her black shoes pressed back down into the lush green grass of the forest floor. A scowl showed upon her face. “Actually, never mind. I failed. There’s just too much mist. I guess we really are lost.” She looked down and sighed.
“Cheer up,” Slimantha said, her brown eyes on Latril. She then flashed the swird woman a smile. “So we are a little lost. I’m sure it will be fine.” She stepped to the side and stretched her arms. Her eyes then darted about as she looked into the mist. “Why not”—she turned around and hinged at her hips, peering into the mist—“we go that way?” She extended her right arm and pointed in the referenced direction. “Follow me to misty victory.”
Latril sighed again, and then her golden sword eyes turned to Slimantha. “Do you even have a clue where you are going?”
“Into the mist,” Slimantha said matter-of-factly. She then raised her right pointer finger in front of herself. “It will totes be fine. Just follow me.” Then she extended her right arm again and pointed in a completely different direction than last time. “Follow me into the mist that way.”
“You”—Latril blinked—“clearly have no clue where you are going and are just picking directions randomly, but why not?” Latril glanced at the others. “Come on, everyone. Gather around and follow the pretty slime summoner who is clearly not going to just get us more lost.” That last part came out with a sarcastic edge to it, but she and the others did, in fact, fall into step behind Slimantha.
Slimantha smiled as she led the group deeper into the thick mist. Her footfalls sounded softly against the green grass beneath her. The cool mist hung thick and heavy, obscuring the forest around her.
She glanced to the side. Her brown eyes fell across something—something in the mist. It stood beside a tree, partially hidden by the mist. It stood upon two legs, a humanoid, and wore a cloak of red. Long red claws extended from its fingers. The green skin of the thing’s face contrasted with the red of its cloak, and its eyes were bulbous and black with neither whites nor pupils.
She blinked, and then there was just a tree. The creature—whatever it was—had vanished. Only the tree remained. She blinked again. Her footfalls continued. Her strides took her and the others deeper into the mist.
“You know?” Latril said, breaking the silence. “That tree”—she gestured to a tree the group had just passed by—“looks awfully familiar.” Her eyes then went to Slimantha. “You sure you aren’t leading us in circles?”
Slimantha’s footfalls came to a stop. She glanced back at the referenced tree. Mist hung around its branches, somewhat concealing its form. That tree did look familiar though. It wasn’t the tree she saw that thing standing by, but it was a familiar-looking tree. She then glanced at some other trees. All the trees were starting to look familiar though. Maybe it was just a “lost in the mist” kind of thing. It would totes be fine though.
“Uh … Guys …” a voice called from the back of the group. It was Black the Witch. Her black feline tail gave a swish, and she pointed to the area ahead of the group with her right hand. “There seems to be something up there.”
A white humanoid creature floated forward, emerging from the mist. It lacked legs and wore a white robe. Other such creatures began emerging from the mist as well, gathering before Slimantha and company. The creatures, mist skulkers, possessed a wispy countenance, as if they had been crafted from the mist itself.
“Actually”—Black blinked—“make that lots of somethings.” Her tail twisted behind her, the mist skulkers reflecting in her brown eyes.