“We should have stayed on the main road like the innkeeper suggested,” Britina complained yet again. She was irritated at Prunhiline’s so-called shortcut, which clearly wasn’t.

“I know this is the right way, Bri. I have a perfect sense of direction.” Prunhiline shot back. She didn’t want to alarm the mage, but Prunhiline was never allowed to lead the hunting party. They had let her once, and they’d ended up at the edge of a volcano. (Big hint: there are no volcanoes on the plains.)

Britina wished she’d stayed another night at the inn. The food was good, not excellent, but edible. The company had been surprisingly enjoyable, and the zombie horde, it turned out, was quite well-educated. Among them were a therapist, several writers (Britina planned to find their books), a journalist, a detective, a former mayor, scholars from various fields, and even a robber with a love of poetry and history. But the best part was the hot bath; it was absolutely divine. Prunhiline had enjoyed the company and food but passed on the bath, which Britina regretted.

“Yes, perfect sense of direction.” Britina brought herself back to the conversation. “If I remember correctly, you got lost in the university.”

“It’s a big school,” Prunhiline whined.

“True, but the room you needed was next to the one you were in. It took me hours to find you.” Giving Prunhiline a hard time made Britina smile.

Prunhiline scoffed and said, “Whatever. I know what I’m doing.” She didn’t, and she and the universe knew that. Prunhiline suddenly stopped and held up her fist as a sign to Britina to stop and listen. Britina did, knowing that the lack of sense of direction was made up for with her other senses.

Something big was moving just outside of their sight along the small path they were following. Prunhiline drew her sword, and Britina gathered energy for her spell. Whatever it was, they would defend themselves, and it would regret attacking them. They stayed silent as their horse’s ears twisted about. The horse began to become nervous. Prunhiline dismounted, and Britina followed her lead. They didn’t want to get thrown from their horses if they were suddenly attacked.

A low snarl came from their right. Both women shifted to be ready but kept their guard up in case of a surprise from another direction. They had learned this from their classes as well as a hard lesson in real life. Suddenly, the bush to their right exploded as a large wolf-like creature jumped onto the path. It howled and snarled at them with its front claws extended. It stood upright and stood six-foot-five. Prunhiline wasn’t impressed. Suddenly, two more werewolves jumped from the bushes, one to the left and the other behind the two adventures.

Prunhiline let out a loud yell and charged the first werewolf. It crouched down, ready for the attack. Britina turned, letting the energy pour into both of her hands. Prunhiline swung her great sword as the werewolf shifted to the left; a few hairs were shaved off the hairy monster. The great sword struck the tree to the werewolf's right, easily cleaving through the trunk. Britina sent blasts of blue energy at the two remaining werewolves. They jumped and howled.

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The first werewolf rolled to its feet and stared at the fallen tree. “Wait!” It shouted, holding up its claws. “Are you using real weapons?” Prunhiline turned, ready to cut the werewolf in half, but paused at what it said. “Wait! Wait!” the creature shouted again.

The other two werewolves began to yell, “Stop! Wait! She’s using real magic!”

Britina and Prunhilne stopped and stared at the monsters, unsure what to do next. Britina finally broke the awkward silence, saying, “Of course, I’m using real magic. We are heroes of the realm.”

“Heroes?” Said the first werewolf, “We weren’t told anything about heroes.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were told. I’ll cut you in half.” Snarled Prunhiline as she hefted her great sword.

“What? That’s not part of the script!” Yelled the first werewolf.

“Script?” Britina asked. The other two werewolves had taken refuge behind some trees. They both peeked out of their hiding places and nodded in agreement.

“Yes, this is a scripted adventure. Why are you using real magic and a real weapon?” The werewolf was visibly panicking now. “We are actors! We don’t do stunts!”

“Actors?” Prunhiline asked, clearly confused.

“Yes! Please stop!” The bravest of the three begged.

“What is going on?” Britina demanded.

“Please put down your weapon. I really don’t want to die. I’ve got an audition next week that could be my big break.” The creature looked on the verge of crying.

Britina nodded to Prunhiline, who grudgingly lowered her sword. “Talk!” Prunhiline demanded.

The werewolf took a deep breath, “We are actors for a scripted adventure. We are a random encounter where adventures with fake weapons and fake magic can defeat us. It’s not the best gig, but it pays the bills.” The two women stared at the monster. He continued nervously, “It’s a roleplay for rich nobles who want to feel like they are in danger but aren’t really.”

“Oh, like a game?” Britina asked.

“Yes! It’s all make-believe. Aren’t you the two that signed up?” The werewolf asked.

“No! I only do real battle!” Prunhiline was insulted that this was a game. A game!

“Sorry,” the werewolf whimpered, cowering. “We didn’t mean to attack you.”

Britina sighed loudly, “Dear love, put away your sword. These are actors. Looks like we wandered into some kind of strange play.” Prunhilne frowned but complied. The other werewolves emerged cautiously. “We’re truly sorry for scaring you. It seems we’re a bit lost.”

Prunhiline grumbled.

“Lost? Where are you headed?” the lead werewolf asked, visibly relaxing as the great sword returned to its sheath.

“The dwarven capital,” Britina said.

“Ah, well, you’re actually headed the wrong way. At the next fork, go left. That’ll take you to Hapershire village.” The werewolf pointed down the path.

Prunhiline suddenly found everything but Britina interesting. Britina turned and glared. “Hapershire? That’s where we were this morning.” Prunhiline busied herself with her saddle. Britina sighed, once again questioning Prunhiline’s “perfect sense of direction.” The universe laughed. She turned back to the werewolf, “Thank you, good sir. We’ll be on our way. Good luck with your play or whatever.”

The two women mounted their horses and waved goodbye to the werewolves. They found the fork and turned left, which led them back to where they had begun that morning. The innkeeper was delighted to see them again. As they ate dinner, two well-dressed men entered the inn.

The first man was obviously very irritated, “I told you we should have turned right instead of left. We never did have our adventure with the werewolves. I’m going to demand my money back!”

The second man, not as irritated, said, “I’m glad we made it back here safely. There was no telling what horrid, dangerous creatures were in the forest. I could have sworn I heard a bear.”

Prunhiline looked at Britina, and the two shared a much-needed laugh.