Ryder gazed at himself in the water basin; His auburn hair and face dripping ripples into the shallow bowl as his blue eyes pierced back at him. He patted himself dry with his shirt, grabbed the quiver and satchel that lay in his footlocker, and was greeted by Durge in the doorway.

“Ready when you are.”

As they stepped into the hallway, one of the great vertical windows of the inn shone golden rays from the east. Skel was absent from the lobby, so the duo placed their keys on the front desk and prayed Kincaid’s helmet would stay safe in the chest he offered.

“If you’re so worried, why don’t we give it to Irid? He might want to tamper with it anyway,” Durge said.

Ryder stopped in his tracks and groaned, “Fine. We can use Skel’s chest once we have more loot to store. You go on ahead and meet our other party members.”

Durge hesitated once he stepped outside and looked at Ryder.

“At the northern gates, you oaf! And eat that squash too!”

Even in dreadful times of survival, he’d rather break his teeth on hardtack than eat the vile yellow vegetable that swayed in his pack.

The morning humidity stayed in the air while the wind stayed scarce. Clouds were far and few, another scorching day of summer awaited.

Durge placed himself near the gates, seeing the commonfolk enter and exit the city with wagons full or absent of goods. He was adjusting his rucksack and camping supplies until he was startled by a pat on his shoulder.

“Where’s the other guy?” Scoundrel said with a yawn.

“I can say the same about the other two,” Durge said with a glare.

The fur-beast shrugged, “Either they’re sleeping in or buying our supplies.”

“We brought our own,” Durge said sternly.

Scoundrel sniffed the air, “I don’t think a handful of cured meat… grains… and squash will bring you far.”

Durge didn’t reply, he instead focused on his pack and eyed the equipment Scoundrel carried. The beast wore a long-sleeved green tunic with a brown vest and a small backpack. A dagger, a coin pouch, and a small buckler shield adorned his belt that held his black pants.

“Give us a hand!” Dalon exclaimed from afar.

His arms were full of rucksacks, bundles, and baskets; his two companions, Bell and Ryder, stood next to him with arms full of supplies as well. The gear was spread among the group: extra blankets, padded cots, plenty of water, food, and tinder.

“You could’ve bought a horse instead of all this,” Scoundrel said, taking a bag.

“Or a handcart,” Durge said.

Dalon sat his pack down with exhausted breath, “I know it’s a lot but I know from experience how much of a pain in the ass it is to haul a wagon through a forest. They only work on roads until you need to ditch them and travel by foot. That orc tavern keeper said it would take more than a moon cycle to get there and we have plenty of time to rest along the way.”

Durge shifted over to Ryder, “I remember what happened last time bags were dumped on us.”

“It’s not like that. This is for our survival out in the wilderness, not all that junk that Sindara carried.” Saying her name aloud produced a tolerant headache that pushed on all sides of Ryder’s brain.

“If I feel that anything is off—”

“Just give it a day or two,” Ryder said.

Durge huffed.

Dalon directed his attention to the duo, “Before we leave Maria, what are we facing up against? We can still buy supplies if you say so.”

Ryder took a swig from his waterskin, “Goblins. They’ve killed four adventurers.”

“All recovered?”

“Only three.”

Dalon looked out to the northern road. “What rank were they?”

“The clerk wouldn’t share.”

“Hm. Any knowledge of the axe?”

“We just have to find the cave that looks like bunny ears,” Durge said.

“Dammit.”

“At least we have plenty of time to find it near Thrahnar!” Bell said with an encouraging tone.

Scoundrel stretched, his fur fluffing up before settling back down. “If we have no other business here, then let us head off.”

“Agreed,” Ryder added.

Dalon picked up his rucksack of supplies, “Then lead the way, map boy. We’ll head north along the road until we see mountains on our right.”

They all looked down the red road that awaited them. Clear blue skies surrounded with green foliage, and colorful banners that fell dormant.

The sun was high and its sizzling rays challenged each of the travelers. Maintaining discipline on how often they should drink from their waterskins was a burden they had to get used to on their journey forward.

Ryder’s sapphire necklace bounced within his shirt as they walked. It was a leisurely but confident pace at the front of the party with Dalon and Durge. Everyone took frequent breaks when they pleased and enjoyed the scenery that surrounded them.

The only annoyance Ryder had was that the strap of his satchel rubbed against his bruised shoulder, a constant reminder to avoid crossbow bolts at point-blank range.

Dalon knew he could be at ease until they reached the mountains. His worry of the quest in the coming seven days was frozen in his mind, and it was a harsh reminder of how grim the quest could end each time he saw his sister smile at him.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He gripped his spear that he used as a walking stick and focused on the map Ryder held.

“Do you see any decent spots to camp tonight?”

Ryder pressed his eyes against the parchment, “I think there’s some clearings past the tree-line but I’m not confident. Whoever made this map doesn’t seem keen on the small details.”

Dalon sighed and stared ahead as he walked, hoping his mind, and the anxieties that followed, would melt away.

However, it wasn’t hard for Durge to have an empty mind on the journey; doing the repetitive task of putting one foot in front of another was easy for him. Years of working on a ranch and doing mundane daily tasks allowed for his head to stay quiet, as the sweat dripped off his brow, without a whine or pout.

He walked in tandem with Ryder, but his mindless trekking was interrupted when he eyed the furred-beast that crept to his right, constantly stalking in the shadows of trees. Moreover, Durge noticed himself licking his lips and swallowing his parched throat whenever he saw the basket Bell carried behind him.

Unlike the men ahead, Scoundrel decided that the best place to follow was from the tree-line. Although the air was still and stiff, and the sun too hot and too bright, the shade of the trees and the cool underbrush beneath- made his day tolerable.

Scoundrel was a few strides away from the group, but none worried. His gear was light and his speed unhindered when walking through the forest, pawed feet being a fortune for beasts like him. Although, Scoundrel would get distracted and sniff the air whenever the curious scent from a familiar basket would cross his snout.

Bell’s white cloak reflected the rays of the sun. Her robes were breezy and the clear jewel on her golden head-chain swayed to and fro. She was gladful and glowing as she took in nature’s beauty, walking along the border of the road and the trees.

Any curious flower, leaf, bug, or bird that would cross Bell’s path prompted her to investigate thoroughly. However, she didn’t want to bring the journey to a halt, and woefully, kept moving forward whenever Scoundrel neared her. But Bell’s sadness quickly left once a new oddity emerged in front of her.

Midday arrived and the sun struck high. Dalon reluctantly agreed with the party to rest until evening. Scoundrel found a suitable area that was clear of protruding roots and shrubs, as well as being heavily shaded, for the party to repose.

As they all rested underneath and against the trees, Scoundrel and Durge were staring at Bell. She held her head high and was gazing at the beams of light that shone through the vibrant green leaves and landed in her palms.

When she looked back down and saw the two staring at her she became embarrassed and bashful.

“What are you two staring at me for!?”

“At you?” Scoundrel and Durge asked simultaneously.

“I’m waiting for you to dish out whatever is in that basket of yours!” Durge exclaimed.

“Aye! I’ve been sniffing it downwind the entire day!” Scoundrel said.

Bell scowled, tucking the basket behind her.

Dalon smirked, “Don’t give them any. Let them wait until nightfall.”

Ryder chuckled.

“You expect us to march into the sun with no food in our bellies?” Scoundrel said.

Durge nodded beside him with a mouthful of cured meat and bread.

“Earn it by moving your legs for a few more hours. It’ll be worth it,” Ryder said.

“What is it, Rye?” Durge asked, sniffing the air.

Dalon sat up and stretched, “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Let’s get to it.”

Scoundrel and Durge were the last to get up from the grass, they eyed Bell as she arose and picked up her woven basket, following her intently from behind as she walked along the dusty road.

The shadows of two vicious creatures were ever-present in the corners of Bell’s visions. Like a little girl with a red cloak hunted by wolves, she quickened her pace to catch up with Ryder and Dalon.

Durge and Scoundrel walked side by side, glaring at the golden basket full of delectable treasure.

“What do you think is in there?” Durge whispered, licking his lips.

Scoundrel sniffed the air long and deep. “It must be some type of soup- or no! Maybe some type of bread and spreading! I can smell the turmeric, the thyme—”

“The onion and garlic,” Durge added.

“Yes! Yes! There’s some other type of scent to it… something with spice… pepper?”

“It has to be ground chilis.”

A warm breeze from the north began, wafting the scent from the basket right into the wolves' noses.

“You smell it too, right?” Durge asked.

“Of course I do. It has to be nutme—”

“Cinnamon!”

They both looked at one another confused and irritated.

“Are you dull, furbrain?

Scoundrel turned his snout upright, “I have never failed in my scent tracking. Your plainskin nose will never be as superior to mine.”

“Well, I've been sniffing all my life!” Durge stomped ahead and caught up to Ryder. “C’mon, what’s in that basket? You met up with them before I did, you must know.”

Ryder smirked, “I do, but I think it’s best if you wait until night.”

“C’mon, Rye! I’m dying over here! Just tell me what’s in it and I’ll stop.”

Ryder shook his head, “My lips are sealed like one of Merrigold’s arcane tomes.”

“I can give you my squash? My hardtack? I’ll let you hold my mace for a while? I’ll carry your satchel for some time? I’ll give you my health potion? Fine! …I’ll give you some of my coins.”

“You don’t have any coins, you oaf!”

Durge hung his head and exhaled aloud as the group members passed him by. Bell’s basket, swaying rhythmically, being one of them.

“Maybe we don’t have to ask for permission and can find out for ourselves,” Scoundrel said with a sneer. He quickened his pace and walked next to Bell.

“How long have we known each other, Isabelle?” Scoundrel asked with his hands behind his back and his muzzle still upright.

Bell tsked, “Long enough for you to know that I hate it when you use my full name.”

“Well, perhaps I would forever halt my lack of manners if it meant I could get a peek inside that beautiful basket?”

She swapped the basket to her other hand but Scoundrel appeared on that side as well. He slowly lifted the top of the basket with his claw while they walked together, trying to eye the bounty within until Bell noticed and called for her brother.

“Knock it off, Drel. The day will go by faster if you distract yourself with something else. Why don’t you scout ahead and find a clearing for us to make camp.”

Scoundrel puffed, going back to the shadows of the tree line, ever-stalking that golden basket.

The warm breeze quickened as the sun lowered, the mighty summer light dwindled, and the beacons from the half-moon of Firth scattered across the green lands. The thin and windswept clouds dispersed throughout the cosmic ocean above.

Warm firelight surrounded the five party members as they set up camp. Durge collected firewood. Ryder prepared the tents and bedding supplies. Dalon gathered a ring of stones and started striking his flint for the fire. Bell sorted and prepared the food. And Scoundrel was missing, presumably scouting the perimeter.

It was quiet, spare for the swaying of tree limbs and the rustles from everyone doing their chosen work. An ember from the striker grew slowly into a blaze within Dalon’s palm of tinder. As Durge relinquished his bundle of timber and Dalon placed his flame, the fire grew into an uproar.

“Let’s not feed it anymore.” Dalon looked up at the tree branches above, “And hope it doesn’t catch the forest on fire.”

Durge waved him off, “We’ll be fine. Let’s make use of the fire while it’s ablaze. Bell, what are we having for supper?”

“It’ll be ready in a heartbeat, let me just sort the side dishes.”

Durge sighed and stared at the still unopened basket that sat behind her.

“Why don’t you chew on this squash in the meantime, oaf.”

Durge shivered.

“Oh, I love squash!” Bell said.

“See, Durge, at least someone has a refined palate around here.”

Bell unsheathed her dagger and was whittling away at a stick, “Bring it over! I’ll slice and put them on skewers for us!”

“Very kind of you, Bell,” Ryder said.

Dalon furrowed his brow, “Don’t you guys have your own food?”

“Besides stonetack, jerky, and other unsavory provisions?” Durge asked sarcastically.

“Our food budget has been tight as of late.”

Durge scoffed, “Our everything budget has been tight as of late.”

“I don’t see the problem in sharing Dal, we brought plenty and they gave up some of their own food for us,” Bell said.

“Please eat all of that putrid squash,” Durge muttered.

While Bell was roasting the skewers of vegetables and placing them on plates, she instinctively reached for the basket behind herself but blades of grass and dirt were the only thing she grasped. She immediately turned around but the basket was gone. She peered around the fire, around the boys, and around their tents, but no basket was to be seen.

“Iz, you okay?” Dalon asked.

She started retracing her steps and mimicking each action she took. She held the back of her head and stared at the boys.

“The basket is gone.”

Durge was the one to immediately stand and look around.

“The basket? What? You just had it a mere moment ago. Did a fox take it?” Dalon asked.

Durge peered through the surrounding forest, “No, something worse. A ferret!”

As the word escaped Durge’s lips, a dagger struck near his foot.