"What is that?" Offswitch asked nervously.

Garbleday, of all people, answered; his knowledge of local history, especially where it concerned military matters, was surprisingly vast, hinting at a childhood filled with toy soldiers.

"That's an old Counting Tower. Back in the days of the Kings, there were a bunch of them scattered around, any place where the road and the river could be fortified, and tolls could be collected on travelers. But they all stopped the travel tolls long ago-- no one's sure why."

"I'm sure there was someone very persuasive who told them it wasn't right to charge people for simply moving about," Trashscarf said with a sort of airy arrogance.

"Well, they were all abandoned, and fell into ruin-- especially after the river shifted," Garbleday explained.

Trashscarf shook his head. "People. They dig a mine or build a tower or something, and abandon it like a sick dog, and then wonder why something else moves in and starts causing trouble. This is why," he added, working up some steam, "a proper infrastructure needs to be in place for even the outlying edges of the local civil--"

"Stop saying words," growled the Woodstrider, grabbing a loop of his scarf and pulling it over his face like a gag.

"The basic layout is the same as our Watch Houses," Garbleday said eagerly. "There's a barracks and a couple of offices at the base of the tower, and then the tower only has a couple of rooms on the inside-- it's mainly just a watchtower, just stairs going up to the top where you can look out."

"Any secret passages in or out?" Offswitch asked hopefully, but Garbleday shook his head.

"Nope. The cells are really secure, though. Walls are like three feet thick."

"MRRP?" The Catterpillow probably had no idea what they were talking about, but wanted to be included anyway. It had blue eyes, with round pupils, and looking up at them was like looking at the sky; high up, clear blue, and almost totally empty.

"If we get any closer right now, the crows will spot us," the Woodstrider whispered. "But they should go to roost once it gets dark."

So they hunkered down behind the fallen tree-- the big base of the root mass made a sort of shallow cave-- and took turns at watch, except for the Catterpillow which yawned and curled itself up to sleep, and Trashscarf, who sprawled against it and also fell asleep and then pretended he wasn't able to wake up for his turn on watch.

Eventually, it did get dark and the crows did go to roost in and around the tower, and when all was dark and quiet, the Woodstrider poked everyone awake and they crept forward through the unkempt woods.

As they approached, they saw a dim light in one of the lower rooms of the tower. It was an odd purple color, and they hesitated, holding a whispered discussion.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Maybe it's a ghost!" Garbleday hissed.

"No problem," Offswitch said confidently, patting his bandolier of weaponry.

"What if it's alive, though? Some kind of crow wizard or somethi-- look, I'm just making suggestions," Trashscarf said, as they gave him confused looks.

"If it's alive, I can probably kill it, or at least give it a damn good try," the Woodstrider said. "How about Shortswitch goes up first--"

"Offswitch," corrected himself, but politely. "Or Arvin, if you like," he added bashfully. "Arvin Beggartick." He was a bit shorter than the Woodstrider, true, but he didn't mind.

"Arvin. Offswitch." The Woodstrider tried both.

"Why not Killswitch? It sounds cooler," Garbleday suggested, and Arvin/Offswitch shook his head.

"I don't want people thinking I kill witches."

"What if it -is- a witch though? Like a crow witch-- come on, stop looking at me like that, that was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, witches and crows, totally traditional combination." Trashscarf folded his arms huffily. "It probably is a witch, and you'll all owe me a very sincere apology."

"Screw it," Offswitch muttered, and he was off-- he wasn't as quiet as a typical assassin, because most of the things he tended to hunt didn't even have ears, but he could move stealthily when he wanted to. Only a few clinks of gear and creaks of leather marked his progress in the darkness through the night as he closed in on the window. The Woodstrider watched him go with an acknowledging nod. Mrrp? also watched, and the Catterpillow's tail started to twitch, flattening a few bushes.

Because Offswitch wasn't hunting, with the fire in his blood, when he moved stealthily, it wasn't like a hunting predator-- it was like a prey animal, a little skittering movement here, and skitter over there, and hesitate, freeze, then move-- like a large bristly mouse, and the Catterpillow couldn't take its wide blue eyes off him.

Offswitch had covered somewhat over half the distance when he realized he could smell smoke, and something cooking that smelled fishy. Things that weren't alive didn't tend to eat, and the ones that did rarely bothered to cook their food first. He could hear a few sounds coming from his friends in the rear, and made a quick beckoing gesture to let them know it was safe, but wasn't sure if they could see him or not.

Back in the rear guard, the Woodstrider was grappling the Catterpillow's tail with both arms, trying to hold it back as it lashed harder and harder. Garbleday was frantically trying to scratch it behind the ears, and Trashscarf stood directly in front of it, trying to keep eye contact; but the wide wide pupils didn't seem aware of him at all.

"Calm down, calm down, just because he's moving like a sneaky thing does not mean you need to--" Trashscarf was saying to the Catterpillow, but Offswitch was briefly outlined by the light as he reached the tower doorway, and Mrrp? stiffened along its entire length, hunkering.

Offswitch reached the tower. Crows perched all around him, on the crumbling walls, and in the trees on all sides. They were asleep; heads tucked under wings. The purple light was coming from a ground-floor room, through the arrow slits it had instead of windows, and there was an old, heavy door in the same wall.

Offswitch knelt at the door and tested it very cautiously, to see if it was locked. It wasn't locked, but it did seem to be bolted, so he took a narrow stiff lever from his tools and slipped it between the door and frame.

Click-clonk went the latch, louder than he'd hoped, and he froze as he heard a chair scrape suddenly across a stone floor, within the tower. He brought up a foot to kick in the door, as a deep tone of sound belled up around him, dopplering in rapidly--

"POOOUUUNF!!"

The Catterpillow descended out of the night sky, wide webbed paws first, like an osprey, as the door suddenly creaked open, and a dark figure stood backlit within.