“How about we buy a cow, brand it, and deliver it to the farm?” Angela offered as they started down the far side of the hill.

“Not the same thing as finding this one,” Wendy said, but she was tempted anyway. The climb up to the crest of the hill had not been fun. She had a distinct feeling the cow must have been chased up there. It was the only reason why the creature would not have gone round.

She had also noticed what she suspected were bootprints near the trail as well.

“Over here,” Wendy called, turning sharply to the right as a series of scuffed marks caught her eye. Kneeling down and letting her new skills get a better look added a pair of fainter trails to her eyeline. “Someone caught our cow and led it away.” She started off down the new track. “Looks like at least two people, probably more.”

“Great,” Angela moaned. “We wasted our time. Someone has probably returned the damn thing already.”

“Doubtful,” Wendy said, breaking into a jog. “They are headed away from the farm. Come on.”

“Urgh,” Angela huffed in irritation. “Why are we running?”

“In case they decide to have steak for dinner,” Wendy called back. She kept her eyes on the trails, watching for any deviation as they jogged along through the snow.

The trails led first to a small cartway that wound through the hilly landscape. They followed it for almost an hour before leaving it behind as what Wendy hoped was the right set of hoof prints led toward a distant cluster of tents.

“Any more bright ideas?” Angela asked as they crouched in a large tree overlooking what appeared to be a bandit camp. Around fifty men and women, all armed, were moving to and fro.

There might be even more that were out robbing and maiming as they waited.

“Look, they have a paddock over there, at least I think so.” Wendy pointed to a small fenced area behind the tents, which was barely visible. “We just need a distraction.” She looked pointedly at Angela.

“Piss off,” She hissed. “I’m not wandering into a bloody bandit camp just so you can steal a cow!”

“I dunno,” Wendy said. “What about being thrown out of a tree? That might be distracting enough.”

“Don’t you bloody dare!” Angela looked scandalized.

“Just an idea,” Wendy said reproachfully. “Fine, wait here.”

She lowered herself carefully out of the tree and began to crawl forward. She really needed to make a lighter version of the suit. It was great for combat, but sneaking was not precisely its style.

If she could get a distraction going with the Pretties, she should be able to sneak around in the chaos. She sent them the command, and the two bug-like mobs unfolded from her back and scuttled away.

It was silent, hidden from view of the camp, and perfectly stealthy.

Or it would have been if not for the screaming.

“What the fuck?” She yelled up at the Bard as two dozen fighters started toward them from the ring of tents.

“The-the-the,” Angela pointed a shaky finger at the Pretties.

“Who’s in there?” A gruff voice called. “Come on out of that there copse, or we’ll make a corpse out of ya!” He nudged his buddy and grinned. “Get it? Copse of trees, corpse, get it?”

There was a round of dutiful sniggers.

“Uh, no thanks,” Wendy called back. “No chance you’ll just go away and leave me alone, right?”

“None at all, sweetheart,” A woman said, spitting to one side. “One way or another, you’re worth money.”

“Fuck!” Wendy swore as she stepped out of the shrubbery and into sight.

“That’s one of the ways, certainly,” A grizzled-looking man laughed.

“Eww, fuck off,” Wendy said. “Creepy old fucker.”

Several of the bandits laughed, a few shoving the old man a little.

“You’ve got spirit, I like that,” Another man grinned.

“Are you guys reading this creepy shit out of a book or something?” Wendy asked.

“No!” A voice yelled, a little too fast.

“Wait, really?” Wendy grinned as she checked their classes with Analyze. “Not one combat class amongst you?” Her skill showed her tailors, farmers, dressmakers, one blacksmith, and more.

“You don’t need a combat class!” Another man yelled from the back. “Jed says so!”

“Who’s Jed?” Wendy asked. She wasn’t exactly feeling comfortable; there were a lot of them after all, but things were looking up.

“Jed’s our Warlord!” A woman said.

“Warlord?” Wendy asked, channeling the sarcasm her Bard seemed to find so easily.

“You stand before the Horde of the Night!” A man yelled.

Several cheered.

“Want to see why you really do need a combat class?” Wendy asked, with what she thought of as one of her mother’s special smiles.

“Get ‘er!” A woman yelled, and the mob charged.

So much for sisterhood.

The first man to reach her flew back over the heads of the others, a suit-empowered uppercut taking him out of the fight instantly. The early victory buoyed her spirits, but it didn’t take long for the tide to start to turn. She moved as fast as she could but was quickly surrounded.

Fists and feet flew at her from all directions, and the armor could only do so much. She swept the legs of the two attacking from the front, but it was less than a second of breathing room. She punched and kicked as she could, but defense was taking up most of her time.

“Last warning!” She called.

“Shut up!” A man punched her in the face, and she triggered the cowl of the suit to protect her head.

So much for doing this nicely.

She extended her claws on the hands and feet of the suit, and blood began to flow as she sliced, stabbed, and gouged.

Space opened around her, people pulling back, clutching bleeding wounds.

“Kill the bitch!” Someone yelled, and everyone drew weapons.

Wendy panted, backing up a step to try and put her back to a tree. An axe bounced off her arm guard; then a sword swung at her. She grabbed the sword, pulling it past her as she headbutted the attacker.

The melee resumed this time with added weapons. Gritting her teeth as impacts reigned down all over her suit, Wendy started to go for throats and vital organs.

“Pull back!” The crowd around her thinned, and then, finally, blessed space appeared. Several bodies were pulled from around her, and there were a dozen more holding wounds.

“Not bad,” A gaunt figure said, holding a sword over one shoulder while he rested on a tall shield he had planted in the ground. “I mean, it’s only a matter of time before you fall to numbers… but still not too bad,”

“Thanks,” Wendy said, keeping her bleeding face covered in the shadows of the cowl. This man must be Jed. He was shown as a hedge knight to her Analyze skill, not a warlord, but it didn’t really matter now.

A hedge knight without troops, or a horse for that matter, was not a force to be reckoned with. With his little cluster of desperate people, it was a different matter.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

She should have brought someone with her.

All this, just for a cow?

“How about you all fuck off, and we call this a day?” Wendy offered without any real hope.

“Sure,” The man grinned, “Just take that armor off, and you can go.”

“That’s not going to happen,” She shrugged.

“Okay,” Jed theatrically scratched at the stubble on his chin. He looked to be about twenty at most. A boy playing Warlord, with real lives on the line. “Then give us something worth as much, and you can leave.”

“Not carrying that much cash,” Wendy said, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work very well. She was alone out here, except for her Pretties, which she was trying to move into position.

“Ah, well,” Jed tried to look resigned, “No one can say I didn’t try.” He stabbed his sword into the ground and raised his voice. “Bring me that armor, my horde!”

The people around her rushed forward again.

Wendy knew this time it was a fight for her life. She let go of all restraint and leaped over the first line of attackers. She landed in a roll and then launched at the nearest fighter. She ripped his throat out and spun away, slashing the face of the man next to him before dancing between the men and women, claws flashing.

The Pretties were almost ready.

A chord rang out from the tree where she had left the Bard, and a fast song began to play. She fell into the rhythm of the music and felt her pains and worries fade away.

Blood fountained as she was able to focus at last. Riding the music kept fear, worry, and mercy at bay. She laughed as she tore a man’s head clean off his shoulders and threw it at a woman nearby.

The more ferocious she got, the more the ‘Horde’ rethought their life choices. More and more of them broke and ran.

The song ended, and she found herself standing before a line of die-hard supporters. They clustered together with the blazing ferocity of the true believer.

She took a deep breath and gave the command.

The Pretties, who had been crawling closer and closer while she fought, launched themselves at Jed’s back.

He gave one brief scream and died.

The sight of the black creatures dicing their ‘Warlord’ into slices seemed to be the last straw. Everyone fled.

===========

“This is a joke, right?” Wendy kicked the flimsy corral, and it fell to pieces. “What is this cow, an escape artist or something?”

Angela let out an unguarded giggle but cut it off quickly.

The corral was empty. A set of hoof prints led away from where a piece of it had been chewed through. They looked relatively fresh.

Wendy looked around at the abandoned camp, taking in the large, warm-looking tents, abandoned supplies, and more. If they rested now, the cow would only get further away.

“Check the place over quickly, then we go after the cow,” Wendy said with a tired sigh.

“I kind of think the cow needs its own song at this point,” Angela admitted.

She was being much friendlier now. Wendy would love to think they had bonded over the battle, but Angela’s entire offering to that fight was one song.

It probably had more to do with Wendy ripping people's throats out and laughing.

That tended to make people think differently about how they treated you.

They found money, some nice-looking travel rations, and a few more good-quality bits and pieces. They also found a luxury bed roll and a rolled tent of thick leather and fur. They loaded most of it into a backpack for Angela that she nearly refused to carry, and then Wendy went around and took as many of the large tents as she could cram into her storage. She managed three.

The Waystation could definitely use the cloth and leather. They were a nice mustard color that she quite liked.

“There once was a cow that went to see,” Angela sang under her breath, “Just what in the world there was to see.” She hummed it over a few times, then noted it down and carried on, “The hills went up, the cow strolled down…” She seemed to like that and carried on composing as Wendy tracked their elusive quarry.

“I think it sped up a bit here,” Wendy hinted.

“I’m not running with all this on my back!” Angela called. “I’m not a pack animal.”

“It’s not that heavy,” Wendy huffed but didn’t push the issue. They were traveling fast enough, and the creature couldn’t run for long.

The path turned and went along the bottom of a small cliff topped with long tufts of grass. The Bard had been quiet for a while.

“Was that your first time killing people?” She asked eventually. “I noticed you tried not to at first.”

“No,” Wendy admitted. “I’ve killed before.”

“Why?” Angela asked bluntly.

“To protect myself, to protect others,” She shrugged. “The usual, I guess.”

“How many?” Angela sounded horrified.

“I lost count a while ago,” Wendy admitted. “In battle, you can’t exactly tell if someone is dead and take the time to remember them.”

“That’s awful,” Angela said.

“It’s not all bad,” Wendy said. “You fight and kill for a reason, and it is all worth it.”

“I don’t have anything I’d kill to keep,” Angela said thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy said.

“Hey!” Angela snapped. “That is not a bad thing!”

“I beg to differ,” Wendy said.

The path led into a small patch of forest, and Wendy could tell the tracks were getting fresher. They were close.

Ducking beneath the boughs, she followed the delicately illuminated path while keeping a wary eye on the surroundings.

Rustling up ahead caught her attention, and she leaped forward, unwilling to let the cow escape again.

It was there!

“Found you!” She called, seeing the cow peacefully eating grass in the center of a small clearing.

“Wendy?” Angela called from far behind.

“I’m up here!” She called back. “I found the cow!”

“I know,” Angela’s voice seemed to be getting further away. “But I hate spiders!”

Wendy turned her eyes up just as the first spider launched itself at her.

Wendy sliced it apart in mid-air, only to feel something hit her back, scrabbling at the armor. She deployed the Pretties, and they went to work, watching her back as she fought off spiders. It was a nest, she guessed. Or at least it was very close to one. There were so many.

The size of large dogs, with legs kept close to their bulbous bodies as they dropped from the trees and crawled from under the shrubs and around trees.

It wasn’t a major threat as long as she kept them off her exposed skin.

At least here she could move.

It only took her a few minutes to send the spiders running for their hidey holes.

She looked around and sighed in abject defeat.

The bloody cow was gone again, the familiar trail disappearing into the trees ahead.

“I’m not stopping until we are out of these woods!” Angela had come back eventually. The idea of being in the woods unprotected had finally gotten through the fear of spiders. “I don’t care if we have to walk all night!”

“Suits me,” Wendy said with a sigh.

If she never saw another cow again, it would be too soon.

Speaking of the cow, it had left the clearing at speed, sprinting through the woods in a random direction. They had been following it for hours, and the tracks were getting fresher again.

At this point, Wendy was expecting to find it had run into a dungeon, been abducted by a dragon, or something of that nature. Any reasonable animal would not have survived this long. It was cursed, blessed, or both.

Or she was.

“You seem down,” Angela said from beside her.

“Can you blame me?” Wendy asked, “I really didn’t expect all this over a damn cow.”

“Well, that’s how it works with stories,” Angela argued as if it was obvious. “If things just go in straight lines, who would even care?”

“This isn’t a story,” Wendy huffed. “This is life.”

“Are you sure?” Angela asked. “I mean, with everything that went on today, it sure feels like a narrative is at work.”

“What do you mean a narrative?” Wendy asked, mostly to pass the time.

“All Bards know of them,” Angela said smugly, “They are like wandering ideas, drifting along looking for people to play out the story.”

“Seriously?” Wendy asked.

“You ever notice how similar some stories are?” Angela asked, “Like, you haven’t heard that story, but one like it?”

“Yeah,” Wendy admitted. “Everyone has.”

“Those are the narratives.” Angela nodded. “Hey, what’s that?”

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

They camped in a small valley a couple of miles outside the woods. Angela got her new tent up, ate some rations, and even lit a fire from proper kindling and everything.

While she slept, Wendy examined the thing Angela had pointed out in a gloomy corner of the forest. A single shaft of moonlight had broken through the trees, casting its pale green light on the small metallic object half buried beneath a fallen tree.

She had tried to Analyze it but got nothing back other than a bunch of question marks. It almost felt alive, but not quite. Complex lines covered the surface in intricate patterns that had been half buried in dirt and muck over the years. Eventually, she got bored, put the cube into her storage, and immediately forgot it existed.

When they woke the next morning, neither of them could remember ever having found it. They had breakfast, chatted a little, then broke camp and got back on the trail of the elusive bovine.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Wendy laughed.

The trail had led them all the way back to the farm on the outskirts of the town. The cow was munching happily on a small bush across the road from its home.

Wendy grabbed the rope that hung from its neck and gently led the creature back into the farm, into the barn, and shut the door. She spent a few extra minutes repairing the fence properly, kicked the bowl of milk and honey, and called the quest complete.

She and Angela walked back to the Waystation side by side.

“So, that was kind of a weird experience,” Angela said at last. “Or was that kind of normal for you?”

“Nope, that was weird,” Wendy admitted. “Don’t know if it will make much of a story for you.”

“Oh, I think there are two, at least!” Angela said, appearing excited for the first time. “The Errant Cow will be one. I already have a pretty good start on a song for that as well.” She looked away, “The Savage Fae will be the other.”

“Savage?” Wendy asked.

“Look, it’s just a better title. A savage Fae Warrior who helps a poor woman to recover her dearest possession… her cow. They fight off ambushes, bandits, and spiders, all to keep an elderly woman’s hope alive. It just works better that way.” Angela said nervously.

“I guess I can live with that,” Wendy said.

“Thanks for all the stuff, by the way,” Angela gestured to her pack.

“No problem,” Wendy said. “Just the spoils of battle.”

“I guess,” Angela smiled. “I’m off to write. Bye!”

The teen turned and walked away, her head already buried in her writing.

“See ya, kid,” Wendy laughed at the wince and headed into the Bear’s Fall.

She wanted a nice bath, a meal, and Scruff. In that order.