The old saying ‘practice makes perfect’ was a bald faced lie and whoever invented it deserved to be drawn and quartered. Practice did, in fact, not make perfect. Not when the practice involved forcing one’s body through a cramped tunnel system made for those of a significantly smaller stature. In this case, practice meant prolonged torture because, no matter which way Oralia contorted her body, her aching joints protested by seizing up on her at every inconvenient opportunity.

“What was that?” Briony’s disembodied voice echoed along the tunnel from up ahead.

“I did not say anything,” Oralia managed through gritted teeth.

“I’m pretty sure I heard you muttering something under your breath. Was it ‘I hate this, I hate this, I hate this’ again? Or have you already moved on to something more colorful?”

The yellow light provided by Briony’s lantern glowed faintly from beyond the next bend. It didn’t move, which meant the little faun had stopped to wait for her. Oralia watched the light as she wormed her way through the tight passage, praying Briony stayed where she was and didn’t backtrack in her direction. Coated in sheen of sweat and dirt, with her shoulders wedged tight against the narrow walls, Oralia was a sight too humiliating to behold.

“Must be a trick of the senses.” Oralia unwedged one shoulder with great difficulty. She sank lower to the ground and crawled forward on her stomach, inching her way free one arm length at a time. “That is known to happen deep underground. They say your senses start to turn on you.”

“We’re twenty feet below the surface,” Briony snorted.

Briony’s information only added insult to injury. A meager stretch of dirt was all that stood between Oralia and her ability to walk unobstructed. How utterly cruel. And yet, ditching the underground tunnel system in favor of walking would have come with its own problems. Immediate arrest and or death, namely. As those options were slightly less favorable to crawling on her hands and knees, Oralia grudgingly stuck to the low, cramped passages of Lonebrook’s underground tunnels.

With one last twist, Oralia freed her upper body from the narrow passage and dragged herself, hand over hand, until the tunnel widened enough for her to change positions. She gathered her stiff legs beneath her and rose. She staggered along with her head bent down to avoid scraping the ceiling, mindful not to brush the walls as she walked. Walking with a hunch certainly beat crawling on her belly, but not by much.

The yellow glow of Briony’s lantern grew brighter as Oralia rounded the final corner. “You made it,” the faun congratulated. “For a moment there I was worried I was going to have to dig you out.”

Oralia ran a calloused hand over her warm forehead, groaning, “Have I told you how much I hate this?”

“Repeatedly,” Briony said. “Which is usually when I remind you that you didn’t have to come. You could have sent one of the others.”

“I find the best way to know what is truly going on is to see it for myself.” It was a poor excuse and Oralia knew it.

As did Briony, judging from the slow shake of her horns. “Right.” The brown and tan faun started walking again. “You’re here because you were the best one for the job. Definitely doesn't have anything to do with that makeshift army you’ve got holed up at my place, all sitting on their hands, waiting for you to tell them what to do.”

“Army?” It was Oralia’s turn to scoff. “We barely have the numbers to qualify as an angry rabble.”

It had been a week since Lingon and Rali left to solicit help from their closest neighbors. Oralia had not yet heard from either, but she herself was making minor progress elsewhere. Like Briony, there were others that lived on the outskirts of the village and had managed to escape the realm’s net. They were mostly farmers and a few woodsmen, but Oralia was not in a position to be picky. She accepted whatever help was offered.

Down to just two trained fighters, Oralia had left Mul and Dewpetal in charge of drills while she went with Briony to investigate the structure being erected in the village square. No one had been able to confirm what it was so far. Worse yet, Briony’s primary contact, a woodcutter by the name of Ellery, had failed to make their last meeting. With rumors circulating and their usual contacts haven fallen eerily silent, Oralia decided it was time she and Briony investigated the matter themselves — even if it meant doing so from a distance.

There were no markers underground to offer direction, but it was of no matter to Briony. She walked with the sort of confidence that suggested she could have found her way through the intricate tunnel systems with her eyes closed. After a few more disorientating twists and turns, the faun stopped at the base of a wooden ladder, announcing they’d arrived at their final destination.

“Ready to breathe fresh air again?” the faun asked in what might have been a halfhearted attempt at positive motivation.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Oralia kept her thoughts to herself as she eyed the exit warily. She’d developed a deep distrust of rickety ladders since having arrived in Lonebrook, and this one’s half-rotted appearance was doing little to put her fears aside.

“Seen that look before.” Briony hung the lantern from the hook on the wall for safekeeping before starting the climb. “The usual system, then?”

“Yes, please. And thank you.” Oralia watched the faun’s stocky form scurry up the ladder with a nimbleness that was typically reserved for squirrels. Their ‘usual system’ involved keeping Oralia’s feet safely planted on solid ground until absolutely necessary. Briony would ascend first, throw open the hatch, and then signal for her once confirming the area above was clear.

The imitated coo of a ringneck dove indicated that Briony had accomplished her portion of the system faster than usual. Oralia tried not to take issue with that as she slung one heavy foot onto the lowest rung of the ladder and tested her weight against it. Despite its decrepit appearance, the wood held strong. With her fortune, it would remain intact until about the halfway mark. Maybe a little higher if she was truly lucky.

“You will not drop, you will not drop, you will not drop,” she repeated to herself as she climbed, not entirely sure if she was speaking to herself or the ladder. Heights had never bothered her much before, but the combination of tall ladders, tight spaces, and being stuck underground seemed to have taken its toll on her formerly steely nerves. The fact that she stood to lose more than just her own life in the event of a fall likely had something to do with it as well.

Not the time, she told her brain. For the first time in forever, her mind obeyed and all thoughts concerning the growing life inside of her were dutifully shoved aside. Climbing was Oralia’s sole focus. Gradually, one rung after another, she hauled her worn body all the way to the top and through the narrow hatch at the end.

Oralia’s efforts were rewarded by the cool kiss of fresh air and waning sunlight.

“I commend your lack of cursing.” Her cheeky companion greeted her arrival with a smirk.

“It helped that the ladder maintained its structural integrity this time.” A thick carpet of moss and wet grass lined the forest floor at their feet. Oralia briefly considered flopping down and allowing the dampness to cool her overheated skin. Alas, with the sun already dipping beyond the horizon, there simply wasn’t time. Not to mention that Briony would never take Oralia seriously again if she succumbed to such childish impulses.

“Ready?” the faun said.

Oralia tore her gaze from the inviting ground with a nod of her head. “Ready.”

Briony plucked a blade of grass and chewed it as she assumed the lead once more. Unlike Oralia, the faun had no difficulty finding her way through a forest where every tree looked damn near identical to its neighbors. Oralia stuck close, knowing she’d never find her way out again if she were to lose her guide. They were a ways outside of town, using the surrounding woods for cover. The realm patrols didn’t venture far from the main road anymore — likely due to the fact that whenever someone did, they never returned.

“It took me a while to find this place,” Briony whispered as she walked. Even without the threat of eavesdroppers, whispering seemed to be the sensible thing to do. “One of the original founders of the village used to live there. The eccentric type, apparently. Over the generations the family gave up on maintaining the place and moved elsewhere. Wildfire took out the main structures, but the old pigeon stower is still standing.”

“The what tower?”

“Pigeon tower.” Briony shrugged. “I told you, eccentrics. Anyway, there’s a stairway built into the outside that leads to the roof. Seemed stable enough.”

“Briony, I mean this in the best way, but I do not think I have ever met a faun like you.”

“What makes you say that?”

The two-faced lying, smuggling, and callus killing immediately sprang to mind. Fauns were supposed to be a peaceful species. They came to war when the horns called, sure, but most didn’t have the stomach for bloodshed. Even Faris, whom Oralia had come to know over their time together, looked like he would have rather been just about anywhere else most of the time. Not Briony, though. She seemed quite content to be right smack dab in the middle of danger.

That felt entirely too personal to share so Oralia offered something more practical. “It was my understanding that fauns avoid heights and yet, here you are, climbing crumbling towers without hesitation.”

“Climbed?” Briony twisted her head around at Oralia, still chewing the blade of grass sticking out of the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t say I climbed the damn thing. Oh no, no, no. I just threw a bunch of rocks at it.”

“...You threw rocks at it?”

“Yep. Didn’t fall, either. Means it’s stable, right?”

Oralia’s eyes grew wide as her heavy footsteps slowed to a stop. It had taken all manner of reassurance to convince Sascha not to accompany her on the scouting mission. Climbing an ancient pigeon tower seemed like the sort of thing he would have put his foot down over. Was this a lost cause? Would it have been better to turn back now, before curiosity got the better of her? Gods dammit, she’d gone all this way, too! So many miles of crawling underground all for no—

“Oralia.” Briony’s voice took on a serious nature. “That was a joke.”

“It was?” She failed to see the humor in the jest, but that may not have been the humor’s fault.

“I was making a jab at you. Of course I tested the stairs. How else would I have known we could see the village square from the top?”

“Oh.” Gods, it was times like these that Oralia yearned for her old team. Even if she didn’t understand the joke, someone would explain it to her. Eventually. Perhaps Briony would be kind enough to extend a similar courtesy. “What is humorous about falling through crumbling stairs?”

“You’re wound so tight, is all. I was just trying to loosen some of” — Briony made a vague gesture with her fingers in Oralia’s direction — “this.”

Think of a joke. Think of a joke. Think of a joke.

“Maybe I like it tight.”

Fuck. Not that one.