Rasp adjusted his hips as he gathered great fistfuls of musty fur into his hands and leaned forward. The smell was a lot stronger than a mule. Not in a bad way, either. Unlike Bonecrusher, the scent of June’s fur was oddly familiar, like tundra and sweet grass in the fall. Tightening one’s legs was an important aspect to bareback horse riding. Unfortunately, try as he might, the same principle did not appear to apply to bareback bear riding.

Note to self, Rasp told himself as he felt his left leg begin to slip, don’t say bareback bear riding out loud. Ever.

Finding a stable riding position atop a bear was like trying to wrap one’s legs around a fuzzy barrel made of jelly. Each time Rasp thought he’d finally found the sweet spot, the layer of fat beneath June’s shaggy hide would shift and he’d lose his grip, causing him to list dangerously to one side. It might have been easier had his sister been a little bear, but alas, it was not so. June was hands down the largest bear he’d ever encountered. Unnaturally big, in fact–close to the size of the fabled warbear spirits that haunted the cliffs of the Iron Ridge territory.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

For what was not the first time, nor last time, Rasp found himself marveling at just how badly the Stoneclaw clan had butchered their own history. Warbears his ass. The truth was becoming clearer now. What his people had mistook for the reanimated soul of a witch was nothing more than a magical shapeshifter, whose only crime involved being born into a family of superstitious idiots.

A low growl broke Rasp from his thoughts. June’s irritated rumble reverberated up through her ribs and into Rasp’s legs, settling deep within his narrow chest.

“Patience is a virtue,” he reminded her as he made the final adjustments to his form. Not that it really mattered. Anyone with half a brain knew he was destined for the ground. At the very least, he could ensure he was out of everyone else’s line of sight before that happened. Pride, unlike his physical wellbeing, was worth preserving, after all.

Sadly, not everyone agreed with this sentiment. “Are you sure this is wise?” Hop called from off to the side, where he was undoubtedly wringing the life from his hands with worry. “It took a lot of effort to fix your teeth and I am going to be vexed if I have to do it all over again.”

“Honestly, Hop, do you even hear yourself?” Rasp said. “If this was wise, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

June stamped her front feet nervously.

“Of course we’re still doing it.” Rasp wrangled his legs into position the best he could before wiping away the hot sheen of perspiration that clouded his eyes. Wicking the sweat off didn’t improve his visibility any, as his surroundings appeared as bleak and blurry as ever, but it lessened the sting at least. “Alright.” He took a breath and let it out slowly as he leaned forward. “Ready?”

June gave a raspy grunt of acknowledgement.

“Good, now hurry up. Let’s go! Before Faris has time to chime in and tell us why this is going to fail.”

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t mind me.” Faris’s voice hailed from a reasonable distance away. He sounded far enough away not to get caught up in the inevitable consequences, but still within range to enjoy witnessing said consequences in all their stupendous glory. “I’m just here for the show. Carry on.”

Hop offered a final, meek protest. “But he could get hurt.”

“How else do you get him to learn anything?”

Rasp applied slight pressure to June’s sides with his heels. Not enough to hurt, simply to spur her along in a manner that did not result in an angry bear flipping over and ripping him to shreds. “Yah!”

June took off at a lumbering gallop. The dark green and brown outlines of the trees flew past at a blurred rate. Rasp heard the heavy crunch of dried leaves and broken branches as June plowed through the forest floor at a steady gait. The bear’s shoulders were taller than her hips and with each long, mismatched stride, Rasp felt himself slide further down her back. He held on with all the strength in his hands, unwilling to ruin such a perfect experience with something as lame as falling off the back of a charging bear.

For the briefest of moments, his heart soared. This was the first spot of fun he’d had in what felt like ages. He was going home, his best friend had found him, and on top of all that, Rasp had discovered a sister who was just as easily swayed down the path of impulsive recklessness as himself. The fact that said same sister was unopposed to allowing him to ride piggyback on her bear form was simply the cherry on top of whatever dessert people put cherries on top of–he honestly didn’t know, because he always ate the cherries before they could be made into something.

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But, much like the debilitating stomach cramps that came from eating a whole bucket of cherries, all good things had to come to an end. The end to Rasp’s fun came at the bottom of a rather steep hill several moments after he slipped from June’s bounding form and hit the leafy ground and rolled. He tumbled head over heels, cursing each time he struck a rock or half buried tree root on his way down. With one last stomach-wrenching summersault, he slammed face first onto the ground and slid to an undignified stop.

It was Faris who reached him first. Crashing through the underbrush, the faun appeared at Rasp’s side mere seconds after he’d come to a full stop. Or maybe it just felt that way. The fuzzy floating pinpoints of light that clogged Rasp’s muddled vision indicated that perhaps he’d hit his head a little harder than he first thought. The truth was he had no idea how long he’d been lying with his face buried in the dirt.

“Muck, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” A jolt of pain coursed down his lower back as Faris helped ease him into an upright position. Rasp ignored it, squinting at Faris’s blurry shape. “Have there always been two of you?”

Faris’s head twisted around, calling back over his shoulder with a distinct waver in his voice. “Hop?”

“Kidding!” Rasp surged forward, pushing Faris to the ground as he leapt upright and started back up the hill, ignoring the twinge of pain in his left shoulder. The loose leaves slipped underfoot, making his progress uphill far less impressive than he’d intended. Rasp grabbed at whatever handholds he could find as he dug the tips of his boots into the slick hillside. Unfortunately, the harder he attempted to climb, the faster he seemed to slip. After about the third attempt, he reluctantly slid to a standstill at the base of the hill.

Faris’s white shape stood waiting for him. Although Rasp couldn’t confirm it with his eyes, he suspected the faun had his arms crossed and a rather unimpressed expression on his face. “This is sad, Dingle Head. I’m getting secondhand embarrassment just watching.”

“You try doing this with your eyes closed and tell me how it works out for you!”

“Ooh, I touched a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

Heat stung the tip of Rasp’s smarting nose–and not just where the rough ground had abraded the skin, either. As much as Rasp wanted to deny the accusation, he could feel the heat already working its way to his ears. There was no use in denying it when his complexion was already giving him away. That didn’t mean he had to admit to it, of course. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away.

“Touchy, touchy, touchy,” Faris tsked as he hooked his arm through Rasp’s. “Come on then. We’ll go together.”

“No.” Whisper’s voice rang out from the hilltop above. “Don’t help him. He was the one who insisted on behaving like a fool. He cannot expect someone else to pull him out every time he gets stuck attempting something stupid. Stand back and allow him to find his own way.”

The intensity of the heat stinging Rasp’s face doubled. “Seriously?”

“You have more magic in a single pinky finger than most witches could hope to achieve in their lifetime. Use it.”

Rasp threw his free hand into the air in exasperation. “What’s the point? You’re just going to take it away anyway!”

“I cannot do that if you don’t know how to first use it.”

With a groan, Rasp unthreaded his arm from Faris’s and stood back, considering his options. He knew asking for a hint on what Whisper expected him to do would only result in a sternly worded lecture about how he needed to actually try before giving up. It would be best to hem and haw for several minutes before throwing in the proverbial towel.

Giving up already?

Dammit. He hated that Whisper could read him even from a distance. I’m thinking.

About giving up. Yes, I know.

This would be easier if you weren’t breathing down my neck. At least give me a chance to fail first. Rasp felt Whisper’s buzzing thoughts detangle themselves from his own. He probably could have thought that nicer, but unscheduled training sessions made him grumpy. Not that regular training sessions didn’t do the same, but at least he had ample time to complain about those beforehand.

Besides, Faris was watching. The same Faris who had gone out of his way to find him so that they could save Lonebrook together. The last thing Rasp wanted was to give his best friend second thoughts, not after everything he’d gone through to get here.

Perhaps it would help if you stopped fawning over the blasted faun and focused.

“Shut up!”

“Rasp,” Faris said after a moment of unease, “nobody said anything.”

“Well they were thinking it. Now hush, Dingle. I need to focus.”

In an unexpected show of encouragement, Faris reached out and touched Rasp’s shoulder. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

Rasp fought the full-body cringe that shimmied up his spine. He gagged, “Gods, Dingle. Don’t do that. It’s so much worse.”

“Fine. But if you don’t hurry it up, I’m going to do it again. Except this time I’m going to tell you how good you are, and how proud I am, and how you’ve come so far just to make your skin crawl.”

Forget disappointing Faris, that was motivation in itself. Rasp corralled his wandering thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on his senses. Both fire and water–the easiest elements for him to manipulate–were in short supply at the moment. He could feel the wind on his face, however, and hear the creak of the trees overhead, and feel the solid dirt beneath his feet. While he could bend flora to his will to a degree, it wasn’t easy and without sight, nearly impossible to get it to do what he wanted. Thus, he chose the wind.

This would require a second, working pair of eyes however. Someone to tell him how high to go and whether or not it was safe to let them drop. “Dingle.” He outstretched his hand in Faris’s direction. “I’m going to need you for this.”

Faris was rightfully suspicious. “What for?”

Rasp seized him by the arm all the same. “It helps to have someone who can see how far the ground is below me.”