Rasp’s surroundings were a shifting field of dark gray and green shadows. Three magical auras glowed against the gloom, shining like beacons in the night. The light pouring from the witches highlighted the last of the spindly poplars obstructing Rasp’s path. He weaved between the trees, wincing each time a wayward branch snagged a leg or arm as he hurtled past. Rasp cleared the last of the trees and burst through the underbrush, charging out across the makeshift battlefield.

The closest magical aura also happened to be the largest. Pale green and shimmering, the aura was unnaturally big, nearly the size of a bear. Cursing under his breath, Rasp altered his breakneck course to go around it, realizing that the reason it was the size of a bear was because it was a bear. He’d never considered what happened to a witch’s power when devoured by a large predator. As the beast itself was now glowing a lovely shade of mint green, Rasp had the displeasure of knowing both flesh and magic were being consumed at an equal rate.

Fuck that. He hadn’t survived four months without his best friend just to wind up being slowly digested in the lower intestines of an apex predator.

Fortunately the bear was too preoccupied with its feast to pay any mind to the scrawny-looking witch hurtling past. Successfully skirting the carnage, Rasp set his sights on the two remaining witches. The pair were clustered together–one aura glowing dull red and the other silver–caught in a struggle with a third, non-magical shadow. Rasp recalled the unfortunate events that took place the night of the Hanover City Harvest Festival. More specifically, Whisper’s roundabout explanation regarding the color of one’s magic and how it correlated with their abilities. Alas, as with most of his learning, the lesson had gone in one ear and out the other. With enough time and concentration, Rasp might have been able to work it out on his own but, mere paces between him and his quarry, he found himself regrettably short of both.

To the seventh realm of chaos with it! He’d never been one for strategic plans anyway. Seemed a little late to start now. Phantom tendrils of yellow magic lifted from Rasp’s hands as his feet pounded against the mossy woodland floor, closing the gap. “You better fucking run if you know what’s good for you!”

In hindsight, he should have waited until after he’d reached the enemy before engaging in shit-talk. A wave of red magic tore across the ground towards him. The dirt split open, throwing a shimmering wall of rock and stone skyward. Rasp flung his hands out in front of his face, pushing back against the onslaught.

Well shit. Red aura meant earth elemental–he remembered now. Would have been a lot more helpful had he recalled that nifty fact before getting hammered in the face with a volley of razor-edged shrapnel. Rasp kept his arms held aloft, struggling to keep the onslaught of projectiles at bay while he considered his next move, all while trying to ignore the trickle of warm blood oozing down the side of his battered face.

Preoccupied with the airborne assault, he failed to register the ground rumbling beneath his feet until it was too late. The earth tore open as shafts of rock formations shot up around him on all sides. The formations curled and twisted together, forming a makeshift cage.

Amongst the deafening roar of grinding, shifting stone, Rasp heard Faris call out, his voice laden with terror. “Rasp?”

“I’m coming, Dingle!”

There was a notable pause. “Are you though? Because, no offense, but it looks like you just stumbled right into a trap.”

“Oh shut up, Faris! It’s a rescue-in-progress, alright?” Un-fucking-believable. Reunited all of thirty seconds and, already, Faris was criticizing his every move.

Gods, I missed you.

The shifting stone walls wove tighter together, closing in on him. Rasp swallowed back his growing trepidation and focused inwards. He pressed the flat of his hands together and channeled power between his palms. He held it, willing it stronger, stronger, stronger. He released just as the final glimpse of daylight disappeared above him. Tendrils of yellow magic surged forth, burrowing deep into the rock, transforming the glowing red to orange. The earth elementalist’s magic fought back, resisting Rasp’s takeover.

In the end, the greater power proved victorious and the surrounding weave of magic shifted in color from orange to yellow. A smirk pulled at Rasp’s mouth as he spread his fingers wide and then snapped them shut. His magic responded, splitting his makeshift cage into a crumbling landslide of rock and debris.

Rasp stepped free of the cloud of dust, wiping the stray particles from his eyes, just in time to have another spray of shrapnel slam into him. He deflected, hurtling the flurry of projectiles back at his opponent–making sure to throw it twice as hard. His pride hurt worse than his smarting face, fortunately.

“Stop. Making. Me.” He accentuated each word with another volley of loose rock and rubble. “Look. Bad!”

As it turned out, throwing volatile spells between dramatic pauses proved both tedious and labor intensive. Weary of his own antics, Rasp ditched the separate attacks and settled for a single, concentrated wave of earth and stone. He heaved it before him, finishing his sentence with a scream, “In front of Faris!”

The yellow wave thundered across the upturned battlefield, felling entire trees in its wake of destruction. Ears still ringing, Rasp was caught by surprise when someone’s back pressed against his own. “It’s not fair to blame your poor performance on the other witch, Dinglehead.”

His heart leapt back into his throat with a squeak.

Faris carried on unaffected. “You didn’t even check to see where I was before sending that last wave of rock, by the way. I could have been crushed.”

The urge to whip around and hug the daylights out of Faris was almost immediately replaced with the need to throttle him first. Alas, Rasp could do neither. A third volley of rock reminded him that they were still caught on an active battlefield and would, therefore, have to save the kissing and making up for later. “I mean this in the nicest way,” Rasp grunted, forced to counter his opponent’s strike once more, “but it’s probably not the best idea to stand next to me right now.”

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“Oh, believe me, I’m aware.” Positioned back-to-back, Rasp felt Faris flinch when the two magics collided together with a thunderous crack. “Kinda short of options at the moment, though.”

“Nah, you just missed me.”

“Do you think we could do this after you’ve done something about the witch attacking us?”

Rasp lifted his hands, summoning a wall of earth and stone to shield them against the magical onslaught coming from across the battle-torn field. Temporarily sheltered, he whirled around, placing his hands at his hips. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Drawing the fight out for dramatic effect?” Faris replied. “I mean come on. You got carried off by a dragon last I saw you. Surely Whisper taught you something in all the months you’ve been away.”

Rasp didn’t know which accusation hurt worse. The fact that he’d just been accused of being needlessly dramatic or that Faris considered his current strategy weak.

“Case in point, right now, for instance,” the faun continued, unnaturally calm for someone currently insulting the very witch keeping him alive. “You just stopped mid-fight to argue with me. Coming across awfully dramatic to me, Dinglehead.”

The audacity!

Rolling his head back with a groan, Rasp spread his feet shoulder-width apart and bent his knees. He closed his eyes and dug deep, searching his surroundings for an element capable of giving him the advantage he sorely needed. The breeze responded, creaking the timber boughs overhead as it whistled past. He reached out and harnessed its power, feeling the surge of fresh magic light a fire within his battered bones.

No anger, he reminded himself, remembering how spectacularly his powers had blown up in his face the last time he’d lost his temper out of frustration. A few deep breaths ensured his heartbeat was still steadily thumping along at a calm pace. You’re cool. You’re calm. No dark entities stirring to life and seizing control this time.

Rasp’s voice reflected his eerie state of calm. “You want to see dramatic, Dingle?”

“Did you hear a single word I said? I asked you to stop being so dramatic. Not to double down on it!”

A devilish smile split across Rasp’s bloodied face. With a wave of his hand, he collapsed the makeshift wall sheltering them from the enemy. His eyes swept across the sea of shifting shadows in search of the telltale glow of his opponent’s magical signature. Rasp found it, partially obscured by the surrounding trees. The earth elemental was stealthily picking his way around to catch them from the flank unaware.

Rasp raised his hands high overhead and then brought them down with a dramatic flourish, sending a raging torrent of wind and rock across the battle-torn ground. Leaves, dirt, and twigs hurtled past as the torrent swept the witch off the ground and flung him high over the treetops. The red blip was lost to sight almost immediately after. From the witch’s fading screams, Rasp assumed his magic had done as he’d intended.

He straightened his posture, beaming with pride. “How was that?”

“Surprisingly effective, actually. Good job not killing us.”

Unfortunately, dramatic shows of power came at an equally dramatic price. Rasp meant to take a step in Faris’s direction, but staggered instead. Hot bile flooded his mouth as the contents of his stomach attempted to upend themselves in a single heave. Rasp swallowed, fighting to keep his breakfast down as his aura vision faded in and out. Unable to sustain the connection, Rasp’s surroundings grew indistinguishable once more. While his phantom vision may have tapped out, his magic sensitivity was still holding on by a thread. The buzz rippling across his skin warned him there was still at least one, maybe two, additional sources of magic nearby.

This is what you get for showing off, the stupid voice in his head reminded him. Now get your head back in the game and finish the job.

Fuck, this was going to suck.

“Alright, Dingle,” Rasp panted, desperately searching the makeshift battlefield for an opponent he couldn’t see. “Where’s the other witch?”

“You’re just now wondering that?”

“Do you have to turn everything into a fight? Yes. Tell me where the other witch is!”

Faris’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You must be something real special, you know. Are all witches this polite? Patiently waiting their turn to have a go at you one on one?”

Alright, admittedly, Faris had a point. Rasp supposed it was a little strange the pair of resistance thugs hadn’t teamed up on him together. The reason for which, he realized, was painfully obvious. “You fuck head. You already took care of the second witch, didn’t you?”

“I might have hobbled him a wee bit. He went slinking off into the trees last I saw.”

“You didn’t kill him?”

“Look, not all of us are comfortable with spilling blood so easily, alright? If it's any consolation, I doubt he’s getting very far.”

“Gods dammit, Dingle. You just earned us more work, you know that, right? Now we’ve got to go track the fucker down before he comes back with more friends.” While it ranked high on the list of shit to do, Rasp had a few other priorities to sort out first. Quick as a flash, he spun around, squishing Faris’s face between his hands. “Your delightfully chubby cheeks,” he gasped, still prodding the unamused faun’s scruffy face. “They’re gone! You’re nothing but skin and bone!”

“Yeah, speaking of which–”

Faris’s fist struck him in the gut with the force of a sledgehammer. All of the air left Rasp’s body in a single, pained exhale. His stomach seized beyond his control, sending ripples of agony coursing through the rest of his body. Stunned, Rasp slowly sank towards the ground with a gurgled wheeze.

“–that’s for making me hunt your sorry ass down for months on end without any word from you at all! Would it have killed you to send a mucking raven now and then, huh? The only reason I managed to find you was the senseless trail of destruction you left in your wake.”

Rasp’s legs gave out and he struck the upturned ground, gasping feebly for breath. He managed three hoarse words. “...Love...you...too.”

“Damn right, you’re sorry! Four months, Rasp! Four months of endless running with every enemy on the entire continent hot on my trail.”

Unable to form proper sentences, Rasp rested his head against the upturned dirt, all the while wondering what sort of reward was in store for having just saved the ungrateful faun’s life. While he was hoping for a hug, he wouldn’t say no to a couple of cold compresses and a stiff drink.

A bone-rattling snarl cut the rest of Faris’s rantings short. Rasp’s body went rigid, suddenly remembering he’d forgotten all about the damn bear. “Shit!” He staggered to his feet, angling his hands in the direction of the oncoming beast. “Get behind me, Dingle! I’ll take care of the bear.”