We camp late into the day… or what feels like late in the day. Night should've been here by now, but the sun has barely moved, if it's moved at all. We stay in Gene's shadow while each of us masks our energy presence. Our precautions aren't enough, and Gene's tension and unease are palpable while I prepare a small meal. I keep life energy cycling through me. The encouraging mana is a comfort to contrast the hostile atmosphere. Edginess and anticipation of what's to come are replaced with alertness and security. When an attack does happen, I'll be ready.

Anticipation becomes too much for Gene. No longer content to sit, the wolf begins patrolling our camp, making a wide circle. Even in her own shadow, she's nervous. She stays close to trees and chooses thick vegetation as a cover as she stalks the ground. Lana takes Gene's wariness to heart and scoots closer to Remny. Bones acts like he's relaxed, sitting on his log and reclining back with his hands holding his head as if he had actual back support and not just a stubborn spine. I know he's actually monitoring the minions he's placed behind him.

The decision to rest wasn't made lightly. Since we arrived in Mithland, we haven't felt safe. The sense of danger has grown with each mile, and though we haven't faced any threat, we can feel its presence. The fact that we don't know what we are dealing with is more disturbing than what the actual danger probably is. Something about being in a foreign realm makes it tricky to keep a level head. We tried to outrun the presence only to feel it cinch around us tighter and tighter. After a day of running, we need a break to replenish our strength.

From Gloom's pocket, I pull out three prepared rations of dried beef, fruits, nuts, and hard bread. I hand Lana and Remny their ration and a glass of water. Gene's clone doesn't need to eat as it connects with the primary source. As long as one is fed, the other is taken care of. And Bones doesn't eat because it's gross… for many reasons, and being a permy-open-mouth chewer is only the tip of the iceberg. I'm halfway through my ration when Gene returns. Knowing the look in her eyes, I wash down my bite with water and pocket the rest of my food.

They have decided to attack. Gene nods in the direction they appear to be attacking from. Whoever they are, have us surrounded.

They? Bones abandons his posturing and readies himself next to Remny and Lana. Death surges through him, and he grabs hold of an ax and shield.

There are seven sages. By their coordination and skill, I believe they are a party. It took me a while to find them. Only when their tracker got careless was I able to pierce through their perception veil. Among them is a skilled illusionist who keeps them hidden.

Do they know they have been spotted? Ask Remny.

Other than our alertness, they do not know I am tracking them now.

How long do you think they will wait before attacking? Bones looks more concerned that he's taken a premature fighting stance than he is about the threat.

They are about a mile out. Perhaps the next thirty minutes.

What's the play call? Lana asks. Our cleric is the least tense among us. She keeps a hand on Remny's metal pauldron, which she infuses with light mana. Can we take them?

I think so, says Gene. Should we? I fear the result will pull too much attention our way.

Are we sure they are hostile? I'm relieved by Remny's question, knowing now I'm not the only one thinking it. The young lycan stands proud and ready. She is the lowest rank among us, just at the cusp of reaching squire. She has nothing to prove, but she is determined to make her Grandma proud. Our rogue stands confidently, checking her crossbow repeaters.

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Jim? I curse at Gene's deflection. I thought she was taking point on this mission. If not her, then Remny or Bones. All signs point to hostile, but I have to remember we are the invaders here. The bugbears have every right to confront us. It only takes one look at our small party to decide. We are still the threat here; no matter what happens, Lana will keep Remny safe.

We hear them out first. If it comes to fists, we go with Spider Lair Retreat.

Sweet. Bones shakes his ax in the air in celebration.

With a tiptoe variation, I add, not because of the celebration. It's just the right call.

Shit.

Bones, Gene tries to admonish the skeleton.

Granny, you have much worse language.

Classroom settings don't count. Besides, Bronson is a little shit, and I stand by that. OK, we let them make a move and then get ready to retreat. Are you good, Bones?

During our pre-campaign planning meeting, we reviewed many scenarios and plans for each. Spider Lair Retreat is a variation of when I left Bones in a spider lair to fight off spiders while I ran. This is the modified version where Bones fights while more of us run away, with the main caveat being that Remny rides atop wolf Gene. Most of our plans are essentially variations of Spider Lair Retreat, some of which have catchy titles like Hero's Sacrifice, Bone Rush, and The Martyr Syndrome. Bones had a heavy influence on those naming conventions.

Does it have to be Tiptoe? Bones asks, looking slightly defeated.

No bangs.

Hear me out. The more attention I draw, the less attention is on you.

Damn. I look at others and see the knowing look in their eyes. Bones has a point. One explosion.

What about a song?

No songs.

It's my class. Bards gotta sing.

Do they, though? I ask rhetorically. Why did you pick a bard in the first place?

I like the sound of my voice. I promise the song is… Bones stalls with an unnecessary pause, a banger. I knew the line was coming and was still unprepared. I avoid eye contact with Bones and Gene. Despite my efforts, I can feel their wolfish grins growing.

He does have a rich voice.

Remny! Stay out of their banter. I do not want you to pick up on bad habits. Are we done?

It's a terrible class. No songs, one bang.

Or… and hear me out… Five bangs and two songs. I promise it'll be awesome.

Seven sages, you think you can last that long. Lana enters the fray.

Is that a challenge?

More like a bet. Three bangs, one song. That's my bet.

It's not supposed to be a bet. Two bangs. No song.

It's a bet then, Bones says, extra satisfied. Two bangers. Plan Spider Lair Retreat - Tiptoe Variation with a Side of Two Bangers is a go.