Wendy really wanted to kick something. That was the only problem with living on the Waystation. There was nothing to kick when you were frustrated. You couldn’t kick a wall, the floor, or anything without kicking the Waystation.

Not only would that be astonishingly mean, but probably terminally stupid as well. You were likely to wake up encased in metal, buried, or worse. She could go onto the Express and kick things, but that was literally kicking herself, so what was the point?

The idea of kicking one of Scruff’s plants or trees was too terrifying to even think about. Even if the plants didn’t literally eat you, the woman who grew them would. So she swallowed her anger, letting it simmer until she got something to take it out on.

Of all the quests she could have hit, she got the search for a missing cow.

What kind of a joke was that?

Thanks to her Dad’s memories, she knew about quests. The games back on Earth were full of them, and they came in several levels of quality. At the top level, they were the main story kind of things, which always offered interest, intrigue, or a great fight. Next, in terms of quality, was a great side-story quest that offered a little variety to the gameplay.

Finding a missing cow was not of that level, however. Below those, you had the worst of all quest types… fetch quests and the deaded escort quest. Her intuition was telling her this was likely to be both of those things combined.

To make matters worse, she was going to have an audience for her humiliation. Some bloody Bard.

At least once she was outside the Waystation, she could find something to kick.

“Ow! Shit! Bollocks!” Wendy hopped on one foot, cradling her aching toes in her hands. What the hell was that tree made of? It had felt like kicking a steel plate.

“Ironwood trees are famed for their resistance,” An amused voice said from behind her. “Especially to toes.”

“Get fucked,” Wendy snapped. “No one likes a smart-ass.” She turned to see a young teen with a smirk and deep brown eyes peering past the tumbling curls of dark hair. “Shit, sorry, kid.” She muttered.

“Not a kid,” The teen shook her head, “I’ve heard swearing before. Often at me,” She laughed.

“Color me surprised,” Wendy said. “Is sarcasm your only setting, or do you have others if I hit you hard enough.”

“Try it,” The girl taunted. “Bet I can turn you inside out before you get to me.” She took a pose, a strange-looking guitar swinging into her hands. It looked almost like an electric guitar in shape but was entirely made of wood.

“Oh fuck off,” Wendy complained. “You’re my Bard?”

“Angela of the thousand strings,” The teen gave a mocking curtsy.

“Wendy Hudson,” Wendy said, purposely ignoring the mockery. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Such an illustrious start to a quest,” The teen sighed. “What are we doing anyway?”

“Finding a missing cow,” Wendy said with a grimace.

“What? Really?” The Bard doubled over, laughing. “How many Fae does it take to find a missing Cow?” She gasped between bursts of laughter.

“Fuck sake,” Wendy hissed. “As if this wasn’t bad enough already.”

“Lead on, oh mighty cow finder!” The teen gestured towards the nearby farms.

“Are you aware how much that thing smells?” Angela commented as they moved over the fields.

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” Wendy insisted. Her bone suit let her move around outside of areas controlled by the Waystation or her Express. It was perhaps a little unsettling, being made of bone and undead muscle… but it did not smell. “It’s not like it’s rotting or anything.”

“You smell like a butcher’s shop,” Angela noted, sniffing her arm as they walked.

“Will you stop sniffing me?” Wendy yanked her arm away.

The suit looked much better these days, mostly covered with black leather and metal plates her Dad had made for it. She knew it was overkill to use it to find a cow, but at least people didn’t start screaming and running when they saw it coming.

Not as often, anyway.

“Uh-huh,” Angela smirked, making a note in some kind of book she had stuffed in a small bag at her hip. “Were none of the non-smelly Fae available…or?”

“I wonder how quickly I could bury you in that field?” Wendy said sharply.

“Har, har, har. The fabled wit of the Fae,” Angela smirked.

“Yup,” Wendy smiled nastily. “That was totally a joke.”

Angela dropped back a couple of steps.

“It’s the next farm on the left,” Angela said sulkily.

“Just open the door, for fuck sake!” Wendy demanded.

“No!” The woman inside snapped. A scraping noise suggested she was dragging something in front of the door. “I put out milk and honey; now go away!”

“What has milk and honey got to do with anything?” Wendy asked Angela, who was still keeping her distance.

“It is supposed to be a gift, you know?” Angela appeared confused. “You drink it and then go away.” She frowned. “Everyone knows that about the Fae.”

“What?” Wendy asked. “Why the hell would we want some rancid milk that is probably full of bugs after being outside all night?”

“Umm….” Angela was at a loss for words.

Wendy turned back to the firmly closed door with a small feeling of victory.

“Look,” She called through the door. “I’m just here about your cow; I was told it was missing?”

“You leave my cow alone!” The woman yelled. “I gave you milk!”

Wendy briefly considered smashing the door but got herself under control just in time.

“I am on a quest to rescue it!” Wendy hissed through the thin wooden planks.

“It ran way three nights ago; just take it and leave me alone!” The woman seemed almost hysterical with fear.

“Fine!” Wendy sighed. “I’ll find it and bring it back. Did you see which way it went, at least?”

“No! Go away!” The woman sobbed.

“I’m going, jeez, Lady.” Wendy stomped off the porch.

“So far, your legendary deeds include kicking a tree, threatening to bury your Bard alive, and terrifying an old lady,” Anglea said scornfully. “What’s next?”

“I never said you’d be alive when I buried you,” Wendy said sweetly.

“Oh, I almost forgot the bitching about rancid milk,” Angela said equally sweetly.

“Do you have any pixie in your ancestry?” Wendy asked Angela suspiciously.

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“No, why?” Angela frowned.

“No reason,” Wendy said, looking around the small farmyard. “Come on, let’s see if we can find where the cow got out.”

“Action at last!” Angela said, “Be still my beating heart!”

“If only,” Wendy sighed, striding across the farm and heading for the Barn. She was pretty sure cows lived in barns, right?

There were no cows in the Barn, but there was evidence left behind. Wendy felt a particularly petty thrill when the annoying Bard stepped in some of it. From there, they headed out to the little field of grass. A trio of underfed cows were grazing listlessly.

“Does that fence look repaired to you?” Wendy pointed to one corner; the wood there looked less weathered than the rest of the fence enclosing the field.

“Dur, is that like new? Quoth the Fae,” Angela said with a sneer.

“You got hit a lot as a child, right?” Wendy asked.

“No, why?” Angela asked.

“Just wishful thinking,” Wendy said, striding off towards the repaired fence.

It had definitely been repaired, and badly. The nails were only halfway into the weak-looking wood. A light breeze could take this thing down, let alone a fully grown bovine.

“Are those cattle branded in any way?” Wendy asked as she examined the fence closely.

“Dunno,” The Bard sighed, “Have you tried looking?”

“You’re not going to help me at all, are you?” Wendy glared at the Bard.

“Nope!” Angela said with the first genuine smile Wendy had seen on her face. “I’m being paid to observe, not aid.”

“You’re not being paid to be sarcastic either,” Wendy said as she stalked off across the field.

“Consider that a bonus offered at no extra cost!” Angela called after her.

Wendy hopped the fence easily, leaving Angela to struggle and complain. If she was not gonna be helpful, then sod her.

The ground was still carrying a bit of snow, and that meant there should be prints, tracks, or whatever you called it. She found them just as she heard a yelp and a thump behind her. She sniggered at the pile of clothes and limbs that was the Bard.

“Are you going to help me up?” Angela demanded.

“Not being paid to help you,” Wendy said with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Okay! I get it!” Angela slid on the snow, ending up spread-eagle again. “Just help!”

Wendy pulled the Bard up, holding on to her until she had her balance, then turned back to the track thingies. They were definitely hoof-shaped prints.

“Looks like it went this way,” Wendy pointed, “Let’s get after it before it freezes or something.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes while Wendy concentrated on the tracks in the snow ahead of them. She didn’t hear Angela get closer, only noticing when she felt something tapping on the black ovals she had clipped to the back armor of her suit.

“Stop that,” She muttered, “It’s distracting.”

“What are they?” Angela whispered. “Are they your wings or something?”

“I don’t have wings as a human,” Wendy said distractedly. She was finding it more and more difficult to pick out the tracks as they neared a rocky area ahead of them. “Only when I’m pixie-shaped.”

“You can shape-shift?” Angela said. “Show me!”

“I can’t,” Wendy waved her away. “I need the suit, and it doesn’t shift with me.”

“I bet you can’t even do it!” Angela laughed. “Just trying to show off.”

“Whatever,” Wendy said. “I’ll show you once we are done with the quest and back at the Waystation.”

“Whatever,” Angela sniffed. “Do you smell something? Other than you, I mean.”

Wendy opened her mouth to swear at the girl but stopped. She did smell something; it was almost sweet but rancid as well. It was kind of familiar.

“Shit!” She threw herself at Angela just in time. The look of terror on the Bard’s face made her happier than it should have, but she made it. She put her suit between the fragile teen and the rocks just in time.

Wendy had remembered the last time she had smelled that scent. It was the Punt-Toads in the ruins.

Three rocks broke against her back, and then Wendy moved. She pushed the Bard flat on the floor and backflipped towards the rocks. Three of the largest boulders had revealed themselves now. She landed and rushed them, knocking aside the smaller rocks as she charged. Her claws opened the throat of one toad while the others leaped away with loud croaks.

She leaped again, kicking one toad hard and leaping away to let a boulder hit it instead of her. The creature was caught in the exposed belly by the flying stone and crumpled.

That left one.

Wendy scanned, seeing nothing but rocks as it returned to hiding. The tides surged in her veins as she leaped from one large boulder to another. On the fifth jump, she felt give under her foot and jumped back just in time to dodge a kick aimed at her chest. Catching the leg in her clawed hands, she used her whole body to spin the creature and smash it down on its back.

The stone-like surface shattered against the rocks and went still as she finished her throw. A quick slice across the throat ensured it was dead.

Only then did she go and check on the Bard.

“Not bad,” Angela admitted grudgingly. “That was almost impressive.”

“Would it have been more impressive if I let them smoosh you first?” Wendy asked waspishly.

“Probably, but then who would tell the tale?” Angela laughed.

“You have a weird way of saying thank you,” Wendy noted.

“What for?” Angela frowned. “I could have managed on my own.”

“Sure, kid,” Wendy said with a laugh. “Sure.”

“Why do you keep calling me a kid?” Angela demanded. “I’m only a few years younger than you!”

“Yeah, but it was a busy few years,” Wendy smiled. “Well, months, actually. Eh, who’s counting.” Searching the ground in frustration, she finally found the scant few tracks the cow made as it passed by this point. It didn’t seem hurried, so it must have passed through while the Punt Toads were asleep.

Now, if she could just manage to keep following the trail…

Inherited Skills Unlocked!

Pathfinding

Scrub Vision

“Nice,” Wendy grinned.

“What?” Angela asked, looking around.

“Nothing,” Wendy said, taking a moment to acclimatize to the new information. It was amazing how much more she could see with Scrub Vision active. Even though this was definitely not Scrubland, it was still useful. She saw many more tracks, noticed broken twigs and flattened grass… and so much more.

Better than that, she could see the path the Cow took highlighted as if a patch of sunlight was illuminating it. “Come on,” Wendy said with a grin, “The cow went this way.”

“You think?” Angela peered suspiciously at the ground, clearly not seeing anything.

“I know,” Wendy said with confidence. This may not be the greatest of quests, but she already got rewards from it. Two skills, especially ones that Pixies and Half Pixies couldn’t usually get, were nothing to be sneezed at.

============

“We have to stop to rest!” Angela insisted.

“Why?” Wendy asked.

“It’s getting dark, and it’s freezing!” Angela’s voice took on a whiny note.

“Didn’t notice,” Wendy shrugged. Wendy felt great with her new skills, pixie eyesight, and the Fae’s ability to adapt to temperature. She had no trouble seeing as the sun slowly dropped behind the wooded hill they were winding their way up.

“Please?” Angela asked, grinding her teeth to try and disguise the word.

“Fine!” She snapped. “But only for a bit.”

“Great!” Angela said with a shiver. “I’ll get a fire going.”

Wendy watched the teen fuss around for a few minutes before strumming a cord on her guitar. It was a strange instrument, and not just because the chord caused a spurt of fire to leap from the guitar to the bundle of wood. The single chord seemed to contain several instruments playing, all at the same time.

The logs ignited merrily despite there being no kindling or anything to help the fire along.

Wendy shrugged; she had seen weirder. While the Bard fussed around the fire, Wendy sent the two Pretties she had brought with her off into the surrounding area to patrol. Better not to be ambushed twice in one day, and a fire would show in the failing light.

The two mobs unfolded from her back silently, slipping into the gathering shadows without a sound.

“I just wish we had some food or something,” Angela huffed. “I thought it would be quicker than this.”

“You didn’t bring supplies?” Wendy asked.

“No, why would I?” Angela frowned. “Does it always take this long to do stuff?”

“Never leave town without at least the basics,” Wendy said. “Food, water, camping stuff, weapons, and whatever else you can think of.”

“As if people actually carry all that stuff around with them!” Angela laughed. “I notice you don’t have anything, either.”

Wendy held up one hand and summoned a plate of steak and eggs, a glass of fruit juice, and a small bundle of sweet roots that Scruff dried for her. It was tasty, and you could chew it for hours.

Angela’s eyes fixed on the plate of food; steam was rising from it.

With a smug smile, Wendy dug into the food, using her claws to cut up the steak and then skewering it with one finger and eating it.

She had plenty more; all the Bard had to do was ask.

“Do you have any more?” Angela feigned casually looking into the fire, but her eyes were drawn to the plate over and over.

“Sure,” Wendy nodded.

Angela looked expectantly at her, waiting for the offer.

Wendy smiled back and kept eating.

Watching the warring emotions on the teen’s face was fun, but in the end, the stubborn creature had to give in.

“Can I have some, please?” She almost growled.

“Sure,” Wendy summoned another plate from her storage and handed it over. She added a glass of fruit juice as well.

“Thank you,” Angela said icily.

“Pleasure,” Wendy grinned.

The following day, Wendy was up and about before the sun rose, calling back her Pretties and packing up the camp. She had given the tent to Angela. She packed it back into her storage and then did the same with the sleeping mat when Angela refused to get up yet.

“Barbarian!” Angela hissed as she crouched over the fire.

“Cheerleader,” Wendy smiled back.

“What?” Angela frowned.

“Nothing!” Wendy laughed. “Want some breakfast?”

“Might as well,” Angela said. “Gods above only know what trouble you will find for us today.”