Croak, croak, croak! Dagmar’s lecture carried far and wide on the cold morning breeze. Each obnoxious croak and caw bounced along trees, reverberating from one sagging pine to the next.
It was morning, too early for the sun to be out judging from the gray shifting light. Plumes of mist wafted along the forest floor, soaking everything, including Rasp, to the bone. He sat in the center of the encampment with a blanket pulled tight over his shivering shoulders, listening as Hop and Whisper hurried about, preparing for their departure. June was off to the side, receiving a loving earful from their Aunt Dagmar. June herself said little, giving small grunts and sighs of acknowledgement every now and then, as if to confirm that she was indeed listening and not shriveling up inside from humiliation.
Rasp wriggled the tip of his pinky finger into his ear with a grimace. He found himself in somewhat of an awkward situation. For what may very well have been the first time in existence, he was not the recipient of a raven’s frenzied lecture. That in itself wasn’t so bad, actually. It was the fact that he, unlike the others, understood every embarrassing word that spilled from the raven’s croaking maw. He felt like a creep, listening in from the other side of a closed door on a deep, sentimental conversation.
He also might have been a teeny, tiny bit jealous that no raven had ever showered him with such unbridled adoration.
“Are you sure Dagmar and June are both Stoneclaws?” Rasp whispered under his breath to Faris.
Faris was hunched on the damp ground beside him, trying to savor a steaming cup of hot nettle tea. Trying being the keyword as there was no way in the seven realms of chaos anybody, not even stubborn Faris, could enjoy the taste of boiled spinach and dirt. “Why?” the faun said, failing to stifle the reflexive gag after braving another sip. “What’s Dagmar saying?”
“Terrible things.”
“And what part of that strikes you as unusual? Sounds like typical Stoneclaw behavior to me.”
“No, not that kind of terrible. Terrible lovey-dovey things, Faris. Like ‘I love you. Please don’t do anything stupid. Watch out for cliffs, and deep running water, and consider everything out of your brother’s mouth a lie.’”
Faris patted Rasp’s back, feigning sympathy. “Must be tough to learn that not everyone in your family is an asshole.”
“Drive that blade straight into my heart, why don’t you?” Once upon a time, Rasp wouldn’t have thought twice about smacking the faun upside the head for his blatant disrespect. Being a reformed person, however, came with changes. The most prominent was allowing his words to do all of his heavy hitting. “You know, your in-depth knowledge of my family really speaks volumes about you, Dingle.”
“I’m afraid to know what it says.”
“Really highlights your obsession for me. Not only do you have the ins and outs of my family dynamics committed to memory, but you apparently missed me so much, you had to go and find my twin as a replacement.”
“That was as insightful as I expected it to be.” Faris managed another sip of the foul-smelling tea before gritting out, “Although, at the risk of deflating your ego, I would like it stated for the record that it was June who found me. Not the other way around.”
“A likely story.”
“It’s actually a rather funny story. Or at least she thinks so, given the amount of times she keeps bringing it up.”
Rasp supposed it was only fair to return the favor and take an equal interest in Faris’s life. He twirled his fingers in the air, motioning for the faun to get story time over with.
“June was my neighbor. Not that I knew that, of course, considering she and Dagmar kept to themselves. They lived their whole lives just outside of Lonebrook without anyone ever realizing it. June knew about me, about you, about the realm, all of it. It wasn’t until Geralt Lazuli seized control of my village that she finally decided it was time to stop hiding. She tracked me down after I fled so we could join forces and find you together.”
“I thought you said this was a funny story,” Rasp said. Unless Faris had meant funny in the ironic sense. In which case, Rasp was still severely disappointed. He had a deep dislike of irony, particularly the way it kept sticking its hand uninvited into his life and giving the shit a vigorous stir.
“Can I keep going or do you want to keep interrupting some more?” Faris demanded. Another unenthusiastic hand wave got the faun going again. “Turns out a shapeshifter’s forms have both positives and negatives. June’s human form can talk, but it can’t run, not as fast as a faun anyway. She had to use her bear form to keep pace with me. Chased me for three days straight until I collapsed from absolute exhaustion.”
“That’s not funny, Dingle. What you’re feeling is sad.”
“You’re an expert on feelings now, are you?”
“Oh, yes. I have to be now that I’m all mature and in tune with my emotional side.” Rasp said, listing the most common culprits. “Happy. Sad. Angry. The whole spectrum.”
“You know there are more than three emotions, right?”
“I prefer to stick to the basics, thank you. Any more than that and it starts to get confusing. Anyway, was that the end of your sad story, or is there an actual funny part?”
Faris paused thoughtfully before admitting, “Well I did eventually wake up with a bear sitting on top of me. To keep me from running away, she insists.”
That would have been almost funny if Rasp had not experienced something eerily similar only the day before. The terror of waking up pinned beneath a living fur blanket, however, was still too fresh in his mind to crack jokes about.
“It was not my best moment,” Faris carried on. “There was a lot of screaming after that. From me, mostly. Until June shifted into her human form and explained who in the seven realms she was and why she was following me.”
“Was she naked?”
“Is that honestly all you’re getting from this?”
“It’s a legitimate question!” Rasp knew for a fact that Whisper possessed a magic cloak to avoid winding up naked as a jaybird each time they went from dragon to angry porcupine. Whisper jokingly threatened to gift him the magic cloak upon their death to spare the world from having to witness Rasp’s bare ass ever again. The final joke was on Whisper, of course, as Rasp intended to wear it as a hat.
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Faris’s blurry shape slumped forward as he shook his horns from side to side in exasperation. “Yes, Rasp. It’s not like a bear can wear human clothes.”
“Ha!” Rasp was starting to see the humor in the story now. “The nude form makes you all squeamish. She’s lucky you didn’t keel over with fright.”
In what could have only been an attempt to make his tea more palpable, Faris snapped the tip of a pine twig between his teeth and chewed. His words were muffled slightly by the sounds of his back molars grinding the sprig to pulp. “The whole thing’s given me something of a complex, truth be told. I have nightmares about being hunted by bears now.”
It was Rasp’s turn to offer his friend a patronizing pat to the back. He aimed too high and got the back of Faris’s neck. But, as with most things, it was the thought that counted. “I appreciate the hardships you endured to come find me. Bears. Naked women. Two of your biggest fears.”
“If only you meant that.”
“Of course I do.”
Faris’s tea sloshed against the tin cup as he swirled it from side to side, lacking the motivation, much less stomach, to drink it. “In that case, I might feel a smidge better if you finished my tea for me.”
“Gods no. I wouldn’t have traded with you if I’d intended to drink that shit in the first place.”
“You did what?”
“I switched the mugs when you weren’t looking.” Rasp allowed a devilish grin to split across his face. “Hop’s always brewing up the most horrible concoctions for me, insisting it’s for my health. Normally I just toss ‘em when he’s not looking, but my mouth felt like a desert after that third corn cake this morning so I drank yours instead.”
“You gave me poisoned tea?”
“Medicinal tea,” Rasp corrected. “Your cup was lovely, by the way. Floral with just a hint of sweetness.”
“This tastes like ass!”
Rasp raised a single eyebrow at Faris. “Which begs the question why you’re still drinking it.”
“I’ll tell you why,” Faris said in that huffy sort of voice that implied he was building towards something profound. Whether or not it would be profoundly stupid was yet to be determined. “Because, for the first time in two months, I woke up to someone waiting on me hand and hoof for a change. I opened my eyes and there was a plate of warm food and tea waiting for me. Do you know how rare that is?”
Considering Faris had effectively described how Rasp awoke most mornings, he couldn’t say he did. “So you’re forcing yourself to endure the taste of ass out of gratitude?”
“My reasoning made a lot more sense before you started poking holes in it,” Faris grumbled. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t think you even realize how good you’ve got it. All of these strappingly handsome fauns coming out of the woodwork to keep you alive and well fed and you barely notice. It’s downright criminal.”
Rasp gnawed the corner of his lip as he considered Faris’s words. Not the part about the lack of gratitude, of course. It was far too early in the morning for that sort of self-reflection. “Are you implying there are two strappingly handsome fauns in this scenario?”
Faris chose the wrong moment to finish the final dregs of his tea. Choking, the faun’s blurry shape heaving forward with a wet sputter, coughing droplets of foul tea from his lungs as he beat his chest with his fist. “What?”
“Couldn’t help but notice you used the plural.”
Speaking clearly was still proving to be a bit of a challenge for Faris, who could do little more than cough and gag, trying not to upend all of the breakfast he’d worked so hard to swallow down in the first place.
Rasp tilted his head back, wondering aloud, “Then again, maybe I just misheard.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Faris said weakly. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Rasp agreed.
From the sudden swell in obnoxious croaking, Dagmar’s fond farewells were coming to a close. As much as Rasp would have liked to razz Faris indefinitely, he supposed it was only proper to see the old bird off. Using the faun’s shoulder as support, Rasp heaved himself onto his feet, calling loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “Hey, Hop! Faris says that’s the best nettle tea he’s ever had and he’s too bashful to ask for another. Would you be a dear and remedy that for him?”
With Faris’s hissed “I hate you” still ringing in his ears, Rasp shuffled out across the leaf-littered encampment. He kept his feet close to the ground, sliding each boot through the damp forest debris to avoid getting snagged on any unseen obstacles as he followed the sounds of Dagmar’s lively chatter.
“Aunty Dagmar,” Rasp called in his best singsong voice as he dangerously drew within pecking range. “I thought the point of leaving was to, you know, actually leave at some point?”
June spoke on the raven’s behalf. “Sorry. She’s almost on her way. Just saying her goodbyes, is all.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“...Oh, right,” June said, as if only now remembering she was no longer the only one capable of understanding the ravens.
Rasp managed to make the entire journey without tripping. Almost. A tree root caught him by surprise at the very end and he fell forward with a startled yelp. June reached out and caught him before he made impact with the spongy ground. Grumbling his thanks, Rasp placed his hand on her shoulder as he steadied himself. Amidst the rush of relief, he could not help but feel a slight ping of annoyance at the realization that his sister was taller than him.
We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen.
Unfortunately, June hadn’t yet perfected the ability to read the annoyance on his face and asked with disgustingly genuine concern. “You alright?”
“Fine, fine.” Rasp wiped the stringy hair from eyes as he ever-so gracefully navigated the conversation to a topic unrelated to his fall. Any would do at this point. The entire reason he bothered coming this way seemed to be a logical start. “We’re going to be traveling again soon. Aunty Dagmar might have to wrap up the goodbyes if she wants to reach Lonebrook before we do.”
Faris’s plan involved sending Dagmar ahead of them to deliver a message to one of his contacts hidden outside of the village. Blessed with wings and a familiarity with the area, she was the obvious choice for a messenger. That, and because Father flat-out refused. The successful delivery of the message, however, hinged upon the raven actually reaching her destination. An impossibility if Dagmar never actually got around to the departing part.
“Aunty,” Rasp said, putting on his best grown up voice, “I promise I will not let anything happen to your precious bear cub. You can be on your way now. June will be safe with me.”
Croak!
Out of habit, June started to explain, “Aunty said–”
“I know what Aunty said!” Rasp took a breath, allowing it to wash away the sting of Dagmar’s insult, before offering an alternative. “June will be safe with Faris.”
Croak.
“Fine! Hop, then. He’s always telling me not to do things because they’re too dangerous. On his life, I swear Hop will keep your precious bouncing baby girl safe.”
“Excuse me?” Hop’s voice called from across the encampment. “Why did I just hear my name?”
“No reason.” Rasp turned back to the raven, squinting up at what he hoped was her blurred shape perched in the bare boughs above him. “We are in a race against time. Please go. I promise you there will be no shenanigans whatsoever.”
With a gargled screech, Dagmar fluttered away, muttering something about the dramatic decline in hospitality shown by the new generation of Stoneclaw leadership.
June waited until the old bird had flown out of hearing before speaking her mind. “That was all a lie, right? I was looking forward to the shenanigans, personally.”
“Every word. Now, completely unrelated, I have a pressing question for you.” Rasp tilted his head up at June as his most brilliant idea of the day, possibly his life, nearly burst from his chest with excitement. The words practically leapt from his mouth on their own accord. Fearful, perhaps, that if he didn’t get them out as quickly as possible, the idea would disappear into the aether itself, destined to go uncommitted for all of time. “Do bears wear saddles?”