The two women rode down the path as Britina studied the maps. It was supposed to be a twenty-four-hour patrol, but the Prince had been missing for forty-eight hours. They had a lot of ground to cover. The patrol would have passed through five checkpoints. They planned to check each one, starting with the last, to find where the Prince might have gone missing.

They settled into their normal travel routine. Britina lost herself in working through another magical theory, occasionally glancing over to check on her companion.

Prunhiline looked at everything. When she could see the sky, she stared at the clouds. She inspected every tree, rock, moss, animal, and object they encountered, looking for shapes, movement, and danger. She stayed alert for an attack but couldn’t help daydreaming about her next battle. Then she spotted a squirrel playing in a tree and shivered; she hated the foul thing.

“The prince could have been abducted,” Britina said, snapping Prunhiline’s attention away from the squirrel.

“Maybe. His armor was scuffed,” Prunhiline said. “How do you think that shambler got hold of it?”

“Maybe he wasn’t wearing his armor,” Britina said.

“Why would he take off his armor?” Prunhiline asked, frowning in confusion.

“To bathe,” Britina said, smiling, knowing how the warrior would react. The warrior shuddered at the mage’s suggestion. To Prunhiline, baths were almost as bad as squirrels. “It would make sense,” the mage continued. “He could have been abducted, and the shambler could have found his armor. We were lucky to have been where it finally stumbled, too.”

Prunhiline nodded. This did make sense. If this was true, she felt sorry for the Prince. She would be humiliated if this happened to her! But she had been caught by an enemy while in the bath without her armor. The warrior smiled, remembering that recent rampage. It was glorious.

Soon, they reached their first checkpoint, the last one the Prince would have passed before returning to the fortress. The dwarven villagers weren’t exactly happy to see them, but they offered help nonetheless.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

They were given a tent to sleep in and a hot meal, which, to Prunhiline’s delight, included beer. The exhausted women were soon fast asleep from their weary day. Tomorrow, they would have to travel further.

The sun peaked over the mountain as Britina woke. She was still tired but felt better than she had in weeks. Fear pulled at her good mood when she found Prunhiline missing from the tent. Unsupervised, the warrior was capable of tremendous trouble.

The mage exited the tent, stood very quietly, and listened. Soon, she heard Prunhiline's distinctive laugh. Thankfully, it wasn't a war cry or the screams of Dwarves, which she had become all too familiar with during their previous mishaps.

She found her companion sitting by the large fire in the middle of the encampment. Even sitting, the Dwarves were dwarfed by the warrior’s great height (yes, dear reader, pun intended).

Britina was appalled to find Prunhiline drinking beer for breakfast. Various meats were smoking on a spit, causing Britina’s stomach to rumble.

Upon seeing Britina, Prunhiline slid over on her bench, giving her friend room to sit. Britina sat gracefully. The nearest Dwarf handed her a plate filled with meat. She thanked the Dwarf. They gave her a mug of beer, which she took with another thank you but with less approval.

“It’s breakfast beer, good for the morning drousies.” The Dwarf said, giving the mage a big toothy smile.

Britina started to thank the Dwarf again but was cut off by Prunhiline. “And that’s when I cut off its head and brought it back as a trophy for the village!” Prunhiline finished her story, delighting the dwarven audience.

Britina realized that Prunhiline was retelling the tale of their battle with the Hellboar (see Prunhiline and Britina vs. The Hellboar, yes, dear reader, a story for another day). Britina bit into the meat, and it was no surprise that it was boar meat. Whenever Prunhiline ate boar, she had to tell that story even when it was just her and Britina (who was there for the adventure).

“If I remember correctly, dear love, we ate boar meat for a week. That included the village.” Britina added to the story.

“Hellboar meat,” corrected Prunhiline, “has more of a kick to it.” The Dwarves cheered in appreciation of Prunhiline’s meat knowledge.

Britina smiled; she had gotten sick of boar, excuse me, Hellboar meat, but it wasn’t so bad. It did have a good flavor. She watched as Prunhiline basked in her glory. The warrior loved to tell that story. She even added it to her long title. Prunhiline of the Plains, killer of Hellboar … (Sorry, dear reader, but we don’t have the page allotment to do her entire title).

After the two finished breakfast, the villagers gave them a warm goodbye. Britina felt that maybe news of their exploits hadn’t traveled as far as she had first thought, and perhaps this journey wouldn’t be as trying as she had anticipated.

Their horses were loaded with provisions, which Britina dreaded: more boar meat and more beer. Prunhiline was delighted at the prospect of more beer and more boar meat.