The sun was high overhead when Rasp awoke from the strangest dream. Birds sang, nested amongst the village ruins, their warbled chirps and whistles amplified by the surrounding stone. The cool air smelled of wet clay and moss. For the first time in months, Rasp felt rested. His back no longer ached, his knees weren’t stiff and swollen, and the constant heavy cloud that hung in the back of his skull had dispersed, leaving his mind unusually clear.

And Rasp wanted none of it.

He closed his eyes and rolled over, willing his waking mind to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. His dreams had been some of the best he’d ever had. Filled with all the foods he loved, the people he tolerated, and even a few he might have loved more than food. Faris had been there. As had Mother. And not a single person asked him to do anything. It was the closest to paradise Rasp had ever come and he was determined to drift back asleep and enjoy it for as long as he could.

The low-speaking voices conversing not far from him were making the return to sleep more difficult than it should have been. Probably would have helped had he simply ignored them, but such was the nature of whispers. Any conversation you weren’t meant to hear was always the most difficult not to listen to. Rasp tilted his head, noting how the surrounding walls magnified even the faintest murmur.

“I don’t want to go anywhere near that settlement.” Hop’s voice was low and laden with both worry and exhaustion–the latter on account of spending the night in a haunted village, most likely. His night had not been nearly as restful as Rasp’s apparently. “Especially if you’re leaving us again.”

“I can’t scout the tower from the ground,” Whisper replied. “And, unless you can shift into a body with wings, I can’t take you with me either. If you’re so concerned about going head-to-head with soldiers then stay here.”

“In a haunted village? With resistance thugs on our tail?”

“I will only be gone for a few hours.”

“Yeah, just like yesterday. Look how well that turned out!”

“I fail to see the issue.” Unlike Hop, Whisper kept their voice calm. Almost unnaturally so. “You were ambushed and the little bird utilized his training–your training, specifically–to handle the situation. He was successful and the both of you walked away unscathed.”

“He roasted two people alive in their armor.”

“And you think me being there would have changed that?” Whisper countered. “Your attackers would have died regardless. In a different manner, granted, but dead nonetheless. All of them.”

Whisper was planning another scouting mission to the nearby realm settlement, from the sounds of it. Hop, meanwhile, seemed conflicted between tagging along or staying back and spending the rest of the day in the haunted village–neither option appealed to him, judging from his tone. Rasp’s hopes of sleeping the rest of the afternoon away disintegrated like sandcastles amongst the rising tide. The sad fact of the matter was, the sooner he got up and moving, the sooner the recurrent nightmare that had become his everyday life could get better.

That’s what he told himself, anyway, as the alternative wasn’t an option he wanted to consider.

With a yawn, Rasp stretched his arms over his head and willed life into each toe. Sitting up had never felt so easy. “I vote we go with Whisper to the settlement.”

“You do?” Hop’s tone changed from surprised to accusatory without missing a beat. “Why?”

“Whisper’s egg might be there, right?”

The fae’s quills rattled in irritation. “Not an egg.”

Rasp rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he spoke, unable to conceal the devious smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I want to be nearby in case they find it. One step closer to the egg is one step closer to getting rid of some of my magic. It’s only logical.”

The faun disagreed with a snort. “I don’t think that word applies to this situation.”

“It would be useful to have a second pair of eyes on the ground,” Whisper admitted, speaking slowly, as if actually considering Rasp’s proposition. “The two of you could scout the area from the outside while I do so from within.”

Hop, naturally had objections. A whole list of them. What’s worse, his objections were grounded in actual logic. “You want a blind elemental and a bumbling artificer, with no combat experience whatsoever, to scout an active realm military settlement for you? Do I have that right?”

“You forgot magically unstable,” Rasp said helpfully. He steepled his hands beneath his chin, flashing a smile. “A blind, magically unstable elemental, thank you.”

“Whisper, this is the plot to a tragic comedy. Not a feasible plan.”

Whisper was smiling now too. Rasp could hear it in the way the fae’s singsong voice rose in pitch. “Precisely. It will be easier to snoop around the inside of the tower if the soldiers are adequately distracted.”

It was rare for Rasp and Whisper to gang up on Hop together. Usually one of them, alone, was all that was necessary to persuade the faun into doing things ‘the stupidest way possible’. “Distraction is Hop’s middle name,” Rasp said. “Hopalong Distraction Humphrey.”

Hop and Whisper were standing not far from Rasp. He could just barely make out their shadowy forms–one tall and looming, the other short and spiky–highlighted against the sunshine filtering down from the gaps in the rustling canopy overhead. Hop’s giant form shifted to face Rasp head-on, raising his voice in objection. “What happened to being depressed about yesterday? Shouldn’t you be a moping puddle of self-misery right now?”

“That is odd, isn’t it?” Rasp scratched at his armpit as he considered why this might be. Hop was right. Accidental acts of magically-induced carnage usually took days, sometimes weeks, to get over. But ever since waking up, it was as if all his problems had been cut loose. Rasp felt set free from the iron iron chains that’d kept him grounded in misery.

“Blame the harmony stone,” he said at last, having come up with no other logical answer. “I think it might have healed more than just my broken body, but my conscience too.”

“That’s not how harmony stones work.”

“Not for you, apparently, Mister Grumpy Pants.”

And with that, Hop’s metaphorical backbone caved, giving in to the inevitable. Rasp could tell by the wearisome sigh that issued from the large faun as his reluctant steps dragged off in the opposite direction. “Why do I even try?”

“We wonder the same thing,” Whisper called after him.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Not me,” Rasp said. “I’m just wondering where breakfast is.”

“It’s past noon, little bird.”

“Fine, lunch then. Feed me. I’m hungry.”

“Fortunately for me, I am your mentor, not your parent. Therefore, not my problem.”

Rasp bit back his sarcastic reply, recalling how his actual parent had disappeared earlier that morning. He tilted his head this way and that, listening to the sounds of the forest. He heard the harsh screech of blue jays, the raspy chatter of magpies, and a number of songbirds. It was the one missing, however, that gave him pause. “Speaking of which, is Father back yet? He went to check on something earlier. Said it was important.”

Whisper was as helpful as always. “Also not my problem.”

#

Rasp parted the gnarled branches that scratched at his unprotected face as he followed Hop’s blurry shape through the thick underbrush. After two hours of travel, they’d reached the outskirts of the old military settlement. The overgrown forest had been cut back along the wall, allowing a ten yard clearing that kept intruders from catching the settlement by surprise. A wall couldn’t keep Whisper out, of course. Shifting into bird form, the fae had flown over the top to scout the inside, leaving Hop and Rasp to check the perimeter for weaknesses.

Well, Hop got to check the perimeter. Rasp was there for…backup? Moral support? Delightful running commentary? His options were somewhat limited considering his vision couldn’t pick up anything beyond a sea of hazy green and black shadows.

While he may have been the one to insist on tagging along to the settlement, Rasp hadn’t planned on participating in the scouting part. To his dismay, Hop insisted otherwise. Apparently Rasp could no longer be trusted to sit and watch the bags after what happened last time. Which was totally unfair, considering he couldn’t possibly cause mayhem if there wasn’t a city within walking distance. What was he going to do? Terrorize the trees?

What a ridiculous idea, Rasp thought. He’d learned his lesson after that cedar nearly crushed him a few weeks back. Since then, he’d vowed to only terrorize things incapable of rendering him as flat as a pancake.

Hop’s whispered voice drew Rasp from his thoughts. “Aside from the main gate, there appears to be two smaller points of access.” The faun had gotten into the habit of narrating their surroundings. The information was helpful, but unnecessary. As the settlement wall was comprised of stone, Rasp could bring it down with a flick of his hand if he wanted. Might defeat the purpose of being stealthy, though.

Hop carried on, unaware of the poor ideas filtering through Rasp’s head. “Once it gets dark, it wouldn’t take much to sneak across the clearing and have Whisper open one of the smaller gates from the inside.”

“Oh.” Rasp made the mistake of voicing his inner thoughts aloud. “I guess that would make more sense than blasting the wall down.”

“You...you weren’t seriously thinking of doing that, were you?”

“What? No, of course not. That’d be reckless.”

Hop stopped dead in his tracks. Rasp only noticed because he slammed into the back of the now unmoving faun, nearly toppling the both of them. A hiss from Hop kept Rasp from cursing him to the furthest reaches of the realm and back. The pair remained stock still as the grueling seconds trickled past. Rasp strained his ears, realizing the forest had grown strangely quiet. In the distance, he heard a squirrel chattering its warning call.

Rasp was careful to keep his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t tell me we’re being followed again.”

“No, it’s something else. An animal, I think.” By the way Hop’s head raised higher, Rasp suspected he was testing the air. “There are other smells too, but I can’t pin them down. Whatever it is, it’s making quite the commotion.”

“Does this mysterious creature smell hungry?”

“How would I know that, Rasp?”

“I don’t know. But we did just leave two days’ worth of corn cake rations next to a tethered mule alone in the forest.” Better the mule than him, but still, Bonecrusher didn’t deserve that sort of ending.

“Wait, I hear something else.” Hop reached back and seized Rasp by the shirt, hauling him forward until they were standing alongside one another–as if, for some reason, moving an entire two steps closer would increase Rasp’s ability to hear. “That’s a raven, isn’t it?”

Rasp closed his eyes and listened, focusing on the call that echoed between the trees. “...That’s not Father.”

Hop’s grip on the front of Rasp’s shirt lessened. “Just a regular raven then?”

“No, I just don’t recognize their voice, is all. She’s shouting ‘quick, quick, they’re gaining on us’.”

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Rasp’s eyes snapped back open as he latched onto Hop’s arm, preparing his weary legs for the torture they were about to endure. “Afraid not, Hoppy Boy. Fancy a run? You’re going to have to get us closer.”

“Or we could not do that. Stick to the plan. Stay hidden.”

“You’re either getting us there on foot, or I’m lifting us up with the wind again. Your choice.”

“Dear gods, no.” Hop stifled a whimper as he surged forward through the underbrush, dragging Rasp with him. “For the record, in case I don’t live long enough to tell you so afterwards, this is a terrible idea.”

“You say that about all my ideas.”

Instead of backtracking the way they came, Hop zigged and zagged a winding path through the trees, attempting to keep downwind from the commotion. Blurred black and green tree forms whizzed past at a dizzying rate. Rasp clung to his guide, lifting his feet higher than usual to keep from catching on every root and snag between them and the growing clamor. He was starting to suspect Hop had intentionally led them in the opposite direction when the faun ground to a halt, dragging Rasp down out of sight with him.

They were tucked behind a highbush cranberry shrub from the smell of it. Between the screech of the unfamiliar raven and the muffled shouts and roars, Rasp couldn’t make heads nor tails of what was taking place. He squeezed Hop’s arm, reminding him that not everyone present had the gift of sight. “What do you see?”

“It’s thugs from yesterday,” Hop managed between pants for air. “Looks like they’ve cornered a bear.”

Rasp suddenly understood why they were hiding. He repeated Hop’s words on the off chance he’d heard wrong, somewhat hopeful that he had. “A bear?”

“The biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

What was a talking raven doing with a bear? Just as Rasp was beginning to question whether or not he was still dreaming, Hop sucked a breath through his teeth and offered the final piece to the puzzle. “There’s a faun, too. I can’t tell if the thugs are trying to help him or fight him.”

“A faun?” Rasp’s heart nearly leapt into the back of his throat. He gripped Hop’s arm tighter. “Hooves? Horns? Furry legs?”

“Are you trying to describe a particular faun or the species in general?”

Shit. Rasp realized he had no idea what Faris actually looked like. “Short, but strong. Smells like cherry tobacco? Has a punchable face!” Fuck, this was harder than he thought. “A beard, maybe?”

“Albino?” Hop offered.

He felt suddenly stupid for forgetting that detail. To be fair, Rasp had only ever brought it up when he was in the mood for an ass kicking. The moment of shame was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. A mix of dread and excitement rose up in its stead. Rasp gathered his feet beneath him, heart pounding as his thoughts raced like a runaway stallion. It couldn’t be, could it? There was no rhyme or reason for Faris to be all the way out here.

Bear be damned, Rasp was about to find out. “Alright, give me a quick rundown of the setup. Where are the baddies at?”

“They’re positioned at twelve, three, and seven.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Like the number positions on a clock face?”

“Why do you assume I know what a clock looks like?”

“Oh my gods!” It was Hop’s turn to seize Rasp by the arm, crushing the muscled flesh beneath his iron grip. “The bear just took one of the thug’s down! It ripped open their neck and, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, there’s blood everywhere!”

There wasn’t time for a strategy. Tugging his arm free, Rasp jumped upright and raced headlong through the cranberry bush, ignoring the way the branches whipped across his unprotected face. Magic pooled in his hands as an unusual sense of calm flooded his veins. His heartbeat slowed, thrumming faintly within his ears, as the sounds of the scuffle faded into the background. Rasp didn’t have to close his eyes this time. His phantom vision slipped soundlessly into place, overlaying his muddled surroundings with the magical signatures of his enemies.

Rasp’s foot caught on a tree root and he came hurtling out of the underbrush spinning, but still on his feet. His war cry roared across the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, with the full force of a thunderclap. “Unhand my Dingle!”