Evan felt like he was going to throw up. Which, again, didn’t make any sense. He didn’t have a stomach. Or intestines. Or any organs, really. But his skeletal body was still trying to go through the motions of being human, and that meant his nonexistent gut was twisted into knots.

They had just teleported. Teleported. One moment he was standing next to Yucca, barely catching his breath, and the next, everything blurred and twisted in a way that made his brain scream. When reality snapped back into focus, they were standing on the outskirts of Valarian, the ancient desert city shimmering in the heat, under the massive Leviathan’s Ribcage.

“I’m going to be sick,” Evan muttered, gripping the edge of his cloak as if that would somehow help steady his nerves.

“You don’t even have a stomach,” Yucca reminded him, her tone more teasing than scolding as she adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Will I?” Evan asked, still trying to breathe, even though he wasn’t sure why he needed to. "Because that... that was horrifying. How do you not feel like your insides are getting turned inside out?"

"Practice," Yucca replied with a small shrug, her wings fluttering slightly as she started walking. "I’ve done it hundreds of times. Plus, it's not like teleportation is banned for being unpleasant. It's dangerous if done wrong."

“Well, I think I did it wrong,” Evan grumbled, his bony fingers clenching around the edges of the navy-blue cloak that Yucca had given him. It seemed to be working, though. As they walked past a few people on the outskirts of the city, no one even gave him a second glance.

Yucca smirked. "Nope, you’re just not used to it. Plus, the cloak is doing its job. People won’t pay attention to you unless you draw attention to yourself."

“I can’t believe the cloak actually works,” Evan muttered. He glanced down at his hands, still skeletal but hidden beneath the cloak’s folds. The fabric itself was a deep navy with black trim, and the hood cast a shadow over his face, leaving only his hands and legs exposed. He could feel the weight of the cloak pulling on him slightly, like it had its own subtle magic that blended him into the background.

Yucca looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Of course it works. You doubted me?”

“I doubt everything right now,” Evan admitted, his voice low. “Including my own existence.”

She chuckled softly at that but didn’t say anything more as they continued to make their way toward the city. Valarian loomed ahead of them, the grand, ancient city rising from the desert like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare. The Leviathan’s Ribcage, a massive, towering structure of bones, arched over half the city, casting long shadows across the sand. The rib bones themselves seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, a faint pulse of magical energy that hummed in the air. The sheer scale of it made Evan feel small—smaller than he already felt, given his whole situation.

The streets leading into the city were bustling with activity. Merchants shouted from their stalls, selling everything from exotic spices to magical trinkets, and airships hovered in the sky above, coming and going from the massive docks near the Upper Aether District. The air was hot and dry, but there was a constant breeze, probably enchanted, that kept the heat from becoming unbearable.

“You know,” Evan said as they walked through the marketplace, “I thought Tarnstead was overwhelming, but this... this is something else.”

Yucca looked over her shoulder, her glassy wings reflecting the sunlight as they fluttered lightly. “Valarian’s... intense. But it’s beautiful, isn’t it? All that history, the magic, the way it’s built into the Leviathan’s Ribcage? It’s like the city was carved out of legend.”

Evan nodded, though he couldn’t fully take his eyes off the massive ribs that arched over the city like a protective canopy. “Yeah, it’s... something.”

The streets were packed, people weaving between stalls and airship platforms, some floating slightly above the ground as they unloaded their wares. The marketplace was a sea of colors and sounds, from the deep reds of desert silks to the bright blues of magical crystals that flickered with arcane energy.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this,” Evan said under his breath as he sidestepped a merchant who was loudly advertising some kind of enchanted weapon.

“You’ll have to,” Yucca replied, glancing back at him with a teasing smile. “Especially since you’ll be sticking with me for a while.”

“Oh, joy,” Evan muttered sarcastically, but he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit grateful. He might be a walking, talking skeleton, but at least he wasn’t completely alone. And even though Yucca gave him a hard time, there was something... almost sweet about the way she looked after him, even if she’d never admit it.

“Keep up,” Yucca said, quickening her pace as they passed into a quieter part of the city. "The palace is still a bit further."

They moved away from the bustling marketplace and into the upper levels of Valarian, where the buildings were taller and more ornate, their stone facades carved with intricate designs that glimmered faintly with magic. The air felt cooler here, likely a result of the powerful enchantments that kept the wealthier districts comfortable despite the desert heat.

Evan adjusted the hood of his cloak, glancing around nervously. He had no idea what would happen if someone realized he wasn’t exactly alive. “So, how does this... cloak thing actually work?”

“It’s simple,” Yucca explained, her wings fluttering behind her as she walked beside him. “It has an enchantment woven into the fabric that makes people ignore you. Not invisibility, exactly, but it sort of... nudges their minds to overlook you.”

“And that actually works?” Evan asked, still sounding skeptical.

“It’s working right now, isn’t it?” she shot back with a raised brow.

Evan didn’t argue with that. He was grateful that no one was staring at the skeletal figure walking next to Yucca, but it still felt surreal. “I just... I don’t get how any of this is possible.”

Yucca sighed, her tone softening slightly. “You’ll get used to it. Udanara’s... different. Things you wouldn’t believe possible are just part of life here.”

“Like teleportation,” Evan muttered. “Still not over that.”

She smiled, a small, almost playful look on her face. “You’ll get used to that, too.”

They turned a corner, and the towering spires of the palace came into view, built into the largest of the Leviathan’s ribs. The palace was a blend of desert and maritime architecture, with grand open courtyards and tall spires that resembled ship masts. The entire structure seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight, giving it an otherworldly, ethereal quality.

Evan paused, staring up at the towering structure. “That’s... that’s where we’re going?”

Yucca nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “The Palace of Ruling Monarchs. This is where my mission begins. And you,” she glanced at him, “are going to be on your best behavior.”

Evan blinked, though the action was still strange without actual eyelids. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

Yucca gave him a look, her wings fluttering lightly as she crossed her arms. "Right. Well, if you want to avoid drawing attention to yourself, you’ll need more than just that cloak. We need to get you some boots and gloves before we do anything else."

Evan looked down at his skeletal feet, which were sticking out from under the cloak. "Yeah... that would probably help. Don’t want people noticing the lack of skin."

Without another word, Yucca turned, leading him back through the crowded streets. The market was just as busy as before, vendors calling out, trying to sell everything from enchanted blades to rare spices. Evan did his best to keep his hood low and stay out of sight, though with the cloak working its magic, people barely even glanced his way.

They moved through the bustling marketplace, the air filled with the scent of roasted meat and spices, the sounds of haggling and laughter all around them. The city was alive with energy, but Evan was focused on one thing—looking as inconspicuous as possible.

Eventually, they came to a small shop nestled between two larger buildings. The sign above the door was faded, but it looked like it had once read “Belarus’ Armory.” Inside, the place was cluttered with shelves lined with boots, bracers, and other simple armor pieces.

Yucca led the way in, her eyes scanning the shelves with practiced ease. The shopkeeper, an old man with a wiry beard, barely looked up from his workbench as they entered. Yucca ignored him and moved straight to the back of the shop, where rows of boots and gloves were displayed.

Evan followed, feeling slightly out of place in the cramped space. “So, uh... what exactly are we looking for?”

“Something sturdy, simple,” Yucca said as she examined a pair of boots. “Nothing flashy. We don’t want to draw attention.”

“Right,” Evan muttered, glancing at the selection. Most of the boots looked plain enough—thick leather with metal-reinforced soles, designed for durability rather than style.

After a few minutes of browsing, Yucca handed him a pair of dark brown leather boots. They were worn but sturdy, the kind of boots someone would wear for long journeys. “Try these,” she said.

Evan slipped them on, and to his surprise, they fit perfectly. “Not bad,” he said, wiggling his skeletal toes inside the boots. “I almost feel... normal.”

Yucca smirked. “You’re a skeleton in a cloak. ‘Normal’ is relative.”

Next, she found a pair of leather bracers with metal enchantments engraved along the back of the hand, wrist, and lower forearm. The engravings glowed faintly, indicating they were enchanted for protection. “These should work,” she said, handing them to him.

Evan strapped the bracers on, the leather feeling surprisingly comfortable against his bones. He flexed his fingers, testing the fit. “I look almost presentable,” he joked, holding up his gloved hands.

Yucca chuckled softly. “Good. Now you just need to stay out of trouble until I get back.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Get back? Where are you going?”

“I have to meet my contact,” Yucca explained, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. “It’s not far, but I can’t exactly bring you with me. Stay here in the market, blend in. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Evan felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of being left alone in the middle of a city where he was—by all accounts—a walking corpse. “Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’ll be fine,” Yucca said, her voice firm but not unkind. “The cloak will keep you hidden as long as you don’t draw attention to yourself. Just... stay put.”

Evan sighed, pulling the hood of his cloak down a little lower. “Fine. I’ll stay out of trouble. But don’t take too long, okay?”

She gave him one last look, her glassy wings shimmering in the sunlight as she turned to leave. “I won’t. Just sit tight.”

And with that, she was gone, disappearing into the crowded streets of Valarian.

Evan stood there for a moment, watching the crowd move around him. He felt oddly exposed, even though the cloak was working its magic. The last thing he wanted was for someone to notice that the figure in the corner had no face beneath the hood.

He needed to find somewhere to sit and wait, somewhere out of the way. His eyes scanned the market until he spotted a quiet corner near a small food stall, where a few old crates were stacked up. It was out of the way enough that he wouldn’t be in anyone’s path, but still close enough to see the crowd and keep an eye out for Yucca.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

With a sigh, he made his way over to the crates and sat down, pulling the cloak tighter around himself. The leather boots felt strange on his feet, but in a good way—he wasn’t used to having something solid between him and the ground. The bracers, too, added a bit of weight to his arms, and he found himself fiddling with the metal engravings as he waited.

The marketplace was alive with activity, merchants shouting, children running between the stalls, and the occasional airship rumbling overhead. It was chaotic, but in a way that made Evan feel almost... normal. Like he was just another traveler in the city, waiting for someone, minding his own business.

But then, of course, there was the nagging voice in his head. "You're becoming far too comfortable in this ridiculous situation." Malakar's voice dripped with disdain. "Sitting around like some common beggar. Pathetic."

Evan rolled his eyes—or tried to. "What else am I supposed to do? She told me to wait here." He whispered sharply.

"You could be doing something useful. Planning. Figuring out how to get rid of these two sisters before they drag you into more trouble."

"How do you know I'm not?" Evan shot back, trying to ignore Malakar’s usual cynicism. "Besides, they're helping me and it’s not like I have many options here."

Malakar grumbled something unintelligible in response, and Evan was grateful for the temporary silence.

He glanced around the market again, watching the people go about their lives. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to be one of them—just a normal person, walking through the market without a care in the world. Not worrying about being undead, or about some ancient, powerful soul trapped in his body.

But that wasn’t his life anymore. Now, he was a skeleton in a cloak, waiting for a magical girl with wings to return from her secret meeting.

"Just another day in paradise," Evan muttered under his breath, leaning back against the crates as he settled in to wait.

***

The river was cool against Paola’s skin, soothing the dirt and tension from her body as the water flowed around her. She sat with her legs drawn up, her arms resting loosely on her knees, staring at the reflection of the darkening sky. The soft sounds of the river were the only company she had allowed herself in this moment of isolation, or so she thought. It was almost imperceptible—the flutter of wings—but Paola’s ears twitched, catching the sound just as Yasmin landed gracefully behind her.

Yasmin didn’t say anything at first, and neither did Paola. She was grateful for the silence. She had been sitting in the river for a while, letting it wash away the blood and grime of battle. Her fingers had traced over the scars littering her body, each one telling a story of a fight survived, but not forgotten. Ayla had told her the scars would fade in time, but they hadn’t. Maybe it was her race—maybe the T’shal’ara didn’t heal like others. She didn’t know. It was just one more question in the long list of things she didn’t understand about herself anymore.

Yasmin’s voice finally broke the quiet, gentle and uncharacteristically soft. “You okay, Paola?”

Paola didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how to answer. A nod was all she could manage, but it didn’t seem to satisfy Yasmin, who hovered there, waiting. Her wings fluttered softly again as if she was thinking of what to say, or perhaps deciding whether to stay.

Paola sighed deeply and leaned back, resting her head on the soft grass at the riverbank, letting her wet hair spill out around her. The moon was beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the water, and her ears pressed back against her head, seeking comfort in the ground below. The scars on her body shimmered faintly in the moonlight, reminders of the battles she had fought, both outside and within herself.

“I’m... I don’t know,” Paola said quietly, staring up at the sky. “I just... don’t know who I am anymore.” Her voice carried a distant, faraway tone, as if she were speaking to the stars, not Yasmin.

Yasmin moved a little closer, still behind her, unsure of how to approach. “What do you mean?” she asked, her usual energy absent, replaced by a rare gentleness.

Paola didn’t look back, her eyes still fixed on the darkening sky. “Back on Earth... things were different. There weren’t races like here, not magical ones anyway. It was... skin color, language, things like that. That’s what divided people. I didn’t grow up with tails or ears or... powers.” She let out a small, hollow laugh, her hand absentmindedly tracing the line of her black tail. “But here? I’m not even human anymore. Not fully.”

Yasmin stayed quiet, letting Paola speak, which was rare for her. She normally had a comment for everything, but now, she was listening. Really listening.

“I don’t even know who I’m becoming. Am I still the same person?” Paola asked, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Or am I leaving that part of me behind? The person I was on Earth, the person I used to be... If I accept who I am now, does that mean I lose her? The old Paola?”

There was a long pause, the river’s gentle rush filling the space between them. Yasmin, ever the bold one, shifted closer still, now sitting just a few feet away. Paola didn’t seem to mind or notice, lost in her thoughts.

“I think...” Yasmin began slowly, choosing her words carefully, “...I think we all change. Earth or not, it happens. But it doesn’t mean you lose who you were. You’re still you. Just... more.”

Paola’s eyes flicked over to her for the first time, the gold flecks in her brown irises catching the moonlight. She studied Yasmin for a moment, noticing the care in her expression, the way her fiery amber eyes were softer than usual. It wasn’t the Yasmin who cracked jokes or mocked their enemies with a smile. This was Yasmin the friend, the one who had noticed Paola wandering off alone and had followed to make sure she was alright.

“Ayla’s still handling things with the guilds, huh?” Paola asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips, trying to shift the conversation.

Yasmin rolled her eyes but smiled back. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that. I can tell she's the type that if it’s not thoroughly documented, she won’t let it go. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already cross-referencing our damage reports with last year’s ambushes.”

That earned a small laugh from Paola. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

Yasmin shrugged. “At least one of us is good with the paperwork. Me? I’m more about... the ‘blow things up’ part of the job.” Her tone lightened, though the softness remained. “But seriously, I noticed you sneaking off, and I figured you might need someone to check on you. I wasn’t sure, though. You’re... kind of hard to read sometimes.”

Paola tilted her head back, eyes still on the stars. “Yeah... well, I don’t even know how to read myself half the time.”

The two of them fell into a quiet silence again, the sound of the river filling the air. Paola shifted slightly, her gaze still distant. “Yasmin,” she said, after a long pause, “either join me in the river or fly to the other side. I don’t want to keep looking back at you.”

Yasmin’s wings fluttered lightly, and for a moment, Paola thought she might fly away entirely. But instead, Yasmin gave a soft chuckle and floated across the water to the opposite bank. She landed gracefully on the grassy edge, now directly across from Paola, her amber eyes watching her friend with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Better?” Yasmin asked, folding her wings behind her as she sat down on the bank.

Paola nodded, feeling the tension ease. “Yeah. Thanks.”

They sat like that for a while, the river flowing between them, but it didn’t feel like a divide. If anything, the distance felt right—two people, on opposite sides of the same struggle, somehow finding common ground.

“You know,” Yasmin said after a while, her voice calm but firm, “you don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

Paola looked over at her, surprised by the softness in her words.

“You don’t have to know who you are, or what’s happening to you, or how you fit into everything,” Yasmin continued. “But that doesn’t mean you’re lost. It just means you’re... figuring it out. And that’s okay. You’re still you, Paola. Even if you’ve got cat ears and a tail now.” She smirked, her teasing nature slipping through again.

Paola smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not easy,” Yasmin admitted, her tone serious again. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got people here. Ayla, Poca, me, if you'd like... Even Carter in his weird, creepy way.” She grinned at that last part, trying to coax a reaction from Paola.

Paola shook her head but couldn’t help the faint laugh that escaped her. “Carter... yeah, he’s something else.”

Yasmin leaned forward slightly, her expression more thoughtful now. “Look, Paola. We all change, especially in this world. You don’t have to leave the old you behind. That version of you is still there, but maybe now there’s just... more of you. The warrior. The Void Borne. The protector.”

Paola’s eyes softened, her fingers tracing the scars on her arm again. “But what if I don’t like who I’m becoming?”

Yasmin’s gaze was steady, her voice quiet but resolute. “Then change it. You’re in control of your story, Paola. No one else. Not even this world.”

Paola blinked, letting Yasmin’s words sink in. It was strange, hearing something so wise from someone who usually made light of everything. But the sincerity was undeniable.

Paola closed her eyes, letting Yasmin’s words settle like a balm over her mind. The sweet simplicity of her friend's encouragement had come just in time, stopping the spiral of darker thoughts that had begun to creep in. Paola had noticed something about Udanara—every time the chaos of battle, mission, or conflict subsided, the quiet moments brought with them the weight of her Earth-born guilt. She hadn’t had the time to truly spiral yet, but those quiet moments... that’s when the darker thoughts seeped in. They whispered that she was doing something wrong, that she wasn’t cut out for this life, that she didn’t belong here.

The blood on her hands from so many battles had felt impossible to wash off. But now, after Yasmin’s visit and the unspoken comfort of her presence, Paola felt better. She let out a long, deep sigh and closed her eyes again. Maybe it was possible, after all. Maybe those stains weren’t permanent.

The stream gently lapped at her stomach, the cool water soothing her skin. After taking a few more deep breaths, Paola pulled her wet hair back, running her fingers through it to untangle the strands. As she gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, she opened her eyes and caught Yasmin’s gaze from across the riverbank.

Yasmin was staring. Her amber eyes, usually full of mischief or wild energy, had taken on a new intensity, her gaze lingering over Paola’s body, especially her chest. It wasn’t hard to notice the difference between them—Paola’s frame was petite, her breasts small and perky, while Yasmin’s figure was fuller, more voluptuous. Yasmin’s eyes lingered a little too long on Paola’s chest, and Paola raised an eyebrow, feeling a playful smirk tug at her lips.

“Enjoying the view?” Paola asked, her tone light, teasing. There was no malice in her words, just that familiar spark of sarcasm that she knew Yasmin would appreciate.

Yasmin’s eyes shot upward, wide with panic as her face turned a deep shade of red, almost matching her fiery hair. She shook her head frantically, trying to recover. “No! I mean, yes—no, I mean, I wasn’t staring—well, I was, but not like that—” She stammered, flustered, clearly caught off guard.

Paola frowned, looking down at her chest with exaggerated disappointment. “So, you don’t like what you see?” she muttered, pretending to be hurt.

Yasmin’s blush deepened, and she scrambled to correct herself, her words tumbling over each other in a rush. “No, no! That’s not what I meant! I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I mean, they’re—” She paused, flustered, then tried again. “They’re cute! Not cute because they’re small, but, um—oh gods, not that small is bad!” She waved her hands around as if she could somehow undo the awkwardness of the situation.

Paola couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up from her chest and echoing over the river. Yasmin stopped mid-sentence, blinking as she watched Paola laugh.

“It’s okay,” Paola said between giggles, waving her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to dig yourself into a bigger hole.”

Yasmin let out a breath, relieved but still a little embarrassed. “You’re evil,” she muttered, but a smile crept onto her face. “You can’t just tease me like that.”

Paola’s laughter finally subsided, and she leaned back in the water, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hey, you were the one staring. I couldn’t resist.”

Yasmin crossed her arms, trying to play it cool, but the blush hadn’t quite left her cheeks. “Well, it’s hard not to stare when someone’s just sitting in a river like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Paola shrugged, smirking again. “You get used to it after a while." She glanced down at herself again, her fingers running absentmindedly over the scars on her arms. “Honestly, I used to be a little self-conscious, but after two weeks of running around Udanara buck naked, it kind of stopped mattering.”

Yasmin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Paola said with a shrug, leaning back in the water. “First two weeks here were like some kind of twisted, deadly, forced nude vacation. Nothing makes you stop caring about your body image quite like trying not to die while completely exposed.”

Yasmin let out a snort, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay, yeah, that sounds... traumatic.”

Paola laughed again, though this time it was softer, more thoughtful. “It was. But after a while, it just... didn’t matter. I had to get used to the new me, inside and out. All the scars, the changes, even the tail. Hell, the tail’s probably my favorite part now.”

“Yeah, the tail’s pretty cute,” Yasmin admitted, smiling as she leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. “But the whole ‘naked for two weeks’ thing? That’s hardcore, Paola.”

Paola chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend it for a vacation package, but it definitely did wonders for my body confidence.”

Yasmin smirked, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief again. “So, any more ‘insider secrets’ you want to share while we’re having this heart-to-heart? You know, for the full ‘Paola experience’?”

Paola shook her head, laughing as she glanced up at the sky. “Oh, there’s plenty more, but some things are need-to-know basis, Yas.”

“Of course, of course,” Yasmin replied, dramatically throwing her hands up. “Always keeping the good stuff locked away. I see how it is.”

They both fell into easy laughter, the kind of laughter that made Paola feel like she was breathing easier, the tension from earlier finally melting away. It felt good to just talk, to joke, to be around someone who didn’t expect her to have all the answers.

After a few moments, Yasmin leaned forward, her expression turning more serious, though still gentle. “Hey, just so you know, we’ll be heading back to Windmere soon. The cleanup’s almost done, and the Arcane Forge is already getting things organized. Thought you might want a heads-up.”

Paola nodded, her fingers idly tracing the surface of the water. “Thanks for letting me know,” Paola said softly, glancing up at Yasmin one last time before rising up from the river. “I’ll be ready.”

Paola stood, the water cascading off her as she rose from the riverbank. Yasmin's eyes lingered for a moment longer than usual, tracing the lines of Paola’s wet, scarred skin, her petite frame glistening under the soft moonlight. It was subtle, but Paola caught the way Yasmin’s gaze dropped briefly before darting back up to meet her eyes.

When Yasmin’s amber eyes locked with hers, Paola smirked. “Really? You’re too easy,” she teased, her voice low and amused.

Yasmin’s face immediately flushed a deep red, her wings fluttering behind her as she tried to stammer out a response. “I wasn’t— I mean, it’s not like—!”

Paola chuckled, stepping out of the river with graceful ease, her tail flicking water droplets off with a playful swish. She reached for her cloak, the fabric drifting around her feet as she draped it over her shoulders, tying it loosely at the front. “Relax, Yas. I’m just messing with you. But you know,” she added, her voice dropping into a mock-serious tone as her tail swished behind her, “I’m so telling Ayla about this.”

Yasmin’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, nearly matching the fiery hue of her hair. “Paola, wait—”

But before she could finish, Yasmin, flustered beyond belief, flared her wings in a rush and took off into the sky, leaving behind a trail of flickering embers. Paola couldn’t stop herself from laughing, watching as Yasmin disappeared into the night. Seeing the fiery magist act flustered was a new sight, and it was nice to see.

Shaking her head with amusement, Paola slipped her cloak around her shoulders, her smirk lingering as she whispered to herself, “Too easy.” Then, with a sigh, she turned back toward the camp, her tail swaying lazily behind her.