The voice boomed above the fire, “Who do you think you’re calling ‘ferret,’ you plainskin!? I’m no damn ferret!” Scoundrel slithered from the tree and pressed a second dagger into Durge’s chest. “I don’t call you plainskins ‘pigs’ because you look similar to them!”

“Calm down, Scoun. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Dalon said with open palms.

“Ratshit! He openly insulted me and I’m the one that’s supposed to calm down!?”

Durge shoved him, “Where’d you take that basket anyway? Into your nest!?”

Scoundrel bore his razor teeth and lunged at Durge. The dagger fell from his hand as he reached with extended claws. The sleeves of Durge’s tunic were slashed and sheared as he laid on his back protecting his face and head from the manic clawing. He threw a wild punch. His knuckles met the boney jaw of Scoundrel who hissed and growled before the beast was pulled back by the rest of the party.

As Ryder helped Durge up to his feet, the two combatants tried swinging on one another again but were both held and shoved back to far sides of the camp.

“I’m no ferret!” echoed through the forest.

Durge was pressing tight on his arms with his ragged sleeves, trails of blood flowed to his fingertips.

“On your cheek as well,” Ryder said.

Durge gritted his teeth, “Damn that sly beast to the bottom of the Abyss!”

Bell picked up Scoundrel’s fallen daggers when he rushed away and scurried up another tree. His legs hung limp from a branch while he slouched and rubbed his muzzle.

“Any way I can assist?” Bell said.

“No.”

The silence rested in the warm summer air as the fire crackled and trees rustled. She held the two daggers up to the sorrowful beast, he grabbed them gently and exhaled aloud.

“Thank you, Bell.”

She smiled and nodded, “We should talk it out next time, we’re a party after all, Scoun.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed once again.

The metal footsteps from Dalon’s greaves neared closer. Ryder and Durge expected to be scolded, chewed, and spat out back to Maria. But with a neutral expression, Dalon only offered a small leather bag. “You need a vial or clean rags?”

“I think we’re okay—”

Durge huffed. “I’ll survive, Dalon. No need to waste your supplies.”

He shrugged and walked back to the fire.

Once Durge seemed calm and Ryder was assured he wouldn’t attack the beast again, he went back to the center of the campsite and looked at the trees. Perched high on a branch above the fire was the treasured basket that the ferocious beast stowed away. Luckily for Ryder, he has conquered and climbed many trees in his youth. With a firm grip on a limb, and the soles of his shoes pressed against the bark, he managed to clamber up the thick oak tree. Basket in hand, with scrapes against his elbows and knees, he looked down to see his party members looking up at him.

Ryder flipped open the woven-lid and counted the edible bounty. “They’re untouched.”

“Of course they are!” Scoundrel yelled from afar. “I was just holding them for safe-keeping! To protect them from any bugs or foxes roaming about!”

“The only fox was you,” Durge muttered under his breath.

Ryder lowered the basket to Bell who worriedly counted them herself before glaring at Scoundrel for causing such a ruckus. She went back to preparing supper again as the rest of the party sat idly by at opposite ends of the firelight.

After a few moments, Bell walked over to Ryder and Durge’s side of the camp carrying two deep plates that held the savory dinner.

“It’s best we stay to ourselves for the night while things… simmer,” she dryly chuckled.

Ryder understood and mouthed a quiet “thank you” when acquiring both the plates.

Durge was turned away, wiping a soaked rag on his cut cheek. “How do I know he didn’t lick whatever food that was in the basket and get his hairy paws all over them?”

“Because they’re protected by a beautiful and flaky coat.” Ryder presented the golden pastries to Durge. But even the oaf couldn’t hold a fierce and pouting temper when a baked-good was steaming into his nostrils. He slowly pulled apart the treasure and inside was even more bountiful than he imagined. The gorgeous hand pie was filled with lamb, garlic, onion, thyme, and allspice.

It was wrapped tight in linen during travel, reheated over the fire, and was paired with cucumbers, tomatoes, roasted squash, and a soft sheep cheese. Durge’s plate however was lacking in squash. Instead, Bell found it suitable to add a thin cracker with honey.

Durge slowly savored the delectable meal, surprising Ryder that he didn’t inhale it at first sight. He uncorked the small vial on his neck and dropped a small crumb of cracker to his slime-friend. Floating through its red translucent body, the tiny critter absorbed the crumb entirely.

Ryder peered over at the oaf making kissy faces at the vial. “How long are you keeping that glob of snot?”

“You’re a glob of snot. I’ll keep him until he wants out.”

“And when will that be?”

“Whenever he’s big enough to absorb you whole.”

“Tsk. You can split your share of gold with it whenever we finish this quest.”

“If we finish this quest.”

“Where’s your stoic confidence? You can take on a horde of goblins.”

Durge slyly grinned, “And a certain fur-beast that gets in my way again.”

“Let’s not let it come to that. Scoundrel is useful in his own right.”

“Aye. Good at sneaking about.”

“Exactly.”

They both looked high and low for any sign of a scurrying rogue eavesdropping but none were noticed.

After letting their meal digest in the silence of the moonlight, accompanied by the distant crackles of fire and breezy wind, Durge laid under his rugged canvas tent and eventually fell asleep.

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Ryder sat outside of his tent trying to read his journal in the dim light. As time went on, he grew increasingly annoyed at his lighting conditions and closed the book. He peered at the rest of the campsite and noticed Scoundrel’s tail sticking out of his tent. Dalon sat up from the fire, yawned, and playfully scrambled his sister’s hair before laying in his own tent as well.

Bell stared distant into the fire as she sat on a fallen log and straightened her blonde hair. She’d yawn or look up to the twinkling stars on the half-moon night, or play with her magic. Ryder noticed that she was investigating a wilted blade of grass by her foot, when she poked it with her finger, a dim yellow light glowed from her palm and seemingly transferred to the blade of grass, springing it to life.

“That grass probably feels just as healed as I do,” Ryder said sarcastically.

Bell cracked a smile, “I doubt it.”

“Thanks again for tending to us. I’m sorry if you still feel drained from yesterday.”

“Oh, no worries. By tomorrow I should feel refreshed. It takes a toll healing that much, it always makes me feel exhausted and weak… but I suppose that’s most mages.”

The fire spewed a burst of embers as the logs shifted within the flames.

Ryder was hunched over as he sat near the fire, an arm propped on his leg as his palm rested his face. “Have you known Catwood for long? I didn’t expect him to have a healer on standby.”

Bell wryly chuckled and shook her head when she remembered how they met. “The first time I saw him was when he was bleeding out into a field when he lost his hand outside the Guild Hall.”

Ryder perked up, “That was you!? I was the one who gave him the potion!”

Bell’s eyes shimmered, “That was you!? It was very critical that you did! I know not where you acquired that strong of a potion but it staunched the bleeding for quite some time.”

“Maybe once we finish this quest I’ll show you when we get back to Maria.”

“Maybe,” she said, as the blade of grass fell back to the soil.

The once great fire came to a smolder, leaving only a few orange embers hidden in the dark gray ash. And with the tiredness of Bell and Ryder growing, they said their goodnights and hunkered in their separate tents.

The third day of the month of Firth concluded and the fourth began. The weather had a dwindling warm breeze with wispy clouds in the sky above. Birds chirped in the trees, vermin scurried through the underbrush, and the cicadas sang from deep within the forests. The other side of the nation was in chaos, but luckily for the adventurers, the early morning woodland brought only peace. The distant tales of civil war and the horns of battle could not be heard within the solace of the woods.

Dalon was the first to wake. He broke down his tent, gathered the camp’s gear, and donned his armor. Steel coverings for his knees, elbows, shins, and forearms adorned him. When Bell awoke she aided him by strapping his thin breastplate.

“Thanks, Bell,” Dalon said, stretching his arms and settling in his armor.

“Do you ever think about not wanting to put on that armor every morning?”

“And do what? Not be protected if we get attacked?”

“No, you weed. I mean if you ever think about quitting questing.”

“Psh. I’m not quitting until we’re Diamond Rank! Let all adventurers envy our portraits in the Guild Hall!”

Bell chuckled, “Anything to prove it to dad, huh?”

“Anything,” Dalon said with squinted eyes and a sly grin.

The siblings noticed Ryder dripping water onto his face and running his fingers through his auburn hair. His canvas covering already rolled up and his supplies stowed away.

Dalon and Ryder gave each other a nod when they noticed one another.

“Go wake your beast, I’ll go wake up mine,” Dalon said.

Unsurprised to see Durge curled up and drenching his pillow with slobber, Ryder repeatedly called out his name to get him to wake. But similar to years past, he knew that he’d be here until midday, when Durge would finally get up. So without kicking the already battered oaf, Ryder mimicked the movements of a spider on the back of Durge’s neck. Payback for what he did at Rock Hollow.

But when the first few fingertips touched his skin, Durge immediately snatched Ryder’s wrist and yanked him to the ground.

As Ryder lay shocked on the dirt floor, Durge loomed over him and gave a wide red-eyed stare and a furious point that implied Don’t ever do that again, got it!?

“Groggy today, huh?” Ryder said with a nervous laugh.

The beasts awoke and they glared at one another as they prepared to venture forth. A light breakfast was had before they walked again along the red road. By happenstance, Scoundrel and Durge walked alongside one another while the rest of the party were a few steps ahead.

“You were wrong about the cinnamon,” Durge said.

Scoundrel scoffed, “You were wrong about the nutmeg. Damn snout must be clogged from all of the damn pollen.”

Durge offered a wry laugh but the silence and awkwardness brewed after each step.

“Sorry for being harsh. I didn’t mean to think less of you.”

“Accepted. Apologies for that wound on your cheek.”

Durge smirked, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Durge tilted his head as Scoundrel went off and stepped into the shadowed woods.

Bored after exhausting every thought he could have before noon, Ryder sighed loudly.

“Have you guys ever heard of The Roadmaker?”

Durge groaned behind him, “This one again?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Bell said.

Dalon didn’t reply but leaned his ear over to Ryder.

“Well, as we all know, the red road we walk upon is unnatural. Not created by our loving Emperor Pallingratz, not formed by the humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, cosmics, beasts, nor even the giants. This road has been around since the end of The Panic and began into the restorative years of the land.”

“It’s been around that long?” Bell asked.

“Since Harmony was first created!” Scoundrel yelled from the tree line.

Ryder smiled, “Exactly! And it was all created by the goodness of one special mage, an Unyielding. But his goodness would eventually be his downfall. Because you see, he started in Harmony, worked his way all the way to where Willow and Melody stand today, continued south to Maria, and then ended his journey at the golden coast of Locria. This mage had the unique power of sculpting the earth and he did so to connect the realm and spread Harmony’s message of peace.”

“Surely it worked,” Dalon sarcastically said.

“Well… it did for a time. But back to the Unyielding. He—”

Durge yawned, “Hurry it up man, I don’t have all day.”

Ryder gritted his teeth, “You literally do!”

Bell huffed, “Can we get back to the story? What was his downfall?”

Scoundrel cupped his hands around his snout and shouted, “He eventually died!”

“Am I telling the story here or what!?” Ryder said.

Bell grew somber, “So he just dies at the en—”

Ryder groaned loudly and irritated. Speeding up his words before he could be interrupted once again.

Dalon chuckled.

“So- yes. He eventually dies but it’s interesting because he mysteriously died. The tale is that the road consumed him in the end, being once his own creation, was then his own death. That’s why the rumor is that the road is of red dirt because of his blood and the firmness of it is because of his bone and muscle.”

Durge rolled his eyes, “I swear by the Family you tell this tale different each time.”

Ryder elbowed him.

The second day of travel was much like the first, although times of conversation became more frequent as the repetitiveness of putting one foot in front of the other droned on. The party would break up the monotony by resting at their own pace or scouring nearby woods.

After stopping together, Ryder and Durge took a break under the canopy of trees. The midday sun was bright but the rest of the party continued on the road a few strides away.

Ryder took a sip from his waterskin. “I’ve been getting an itching feeling ever since that encounter with the elves.”

“You should change that bandage then,” Durge said.

“What? No- not that. Itching in my mind. I think that last succor quest was a setup.”

“A setup for what?”

“To kill us, you oaf!”

Durge clicked his tongue, “Don’t be dumb.”

“Just think about it for more than two heartbeats, if you even can. That one stone elf said ‘one out of three targets killed is satisfactory.’ They were meant to assassinate us as well!”

“Yeah. And?”

Ryder exhaled loudly from his nose, “Just two heartbeats. I beg.”

Durge sat in silence, the crisp wind flowing through one of his ears and out the other through his hollow skull until something inside his head sparked.

“Okay… so how would they have planned for us to pick that succor quest in particular? It’s a free-for-all when that arcane wall drops.”

“I don’t recall seeing many other Clay-ranked quests, do you?”

Another spark ignited in the oaf’s brain. “Well, what if someone else picked that quest? Would they have been targets too or would they have had every adventurer in the city bring them a bag full of stems until we did it?”

Ryder ran his fingers through his hair. “I know not what’s at play. But a quest to deliver a pouch full of stems as soon as we left Drupeton is too lucky. And those four lunatics that ambushed us before are still in my mind. We both know there's still another one in Maria that tried to assassinate Catwood in that field. We have to play it safe when we turn in this quest. Who knows what’s waiting for us when we return.”

“Maybe Catwood and his guild will have slain them all and we’ll be free to roam the city once again without looking out over our shoulders all the time.” Durge put a quick and great grip on Ryder’s bruised shoulder and carried on back to the road.

The end of the day approached. The dusk’s golden rays shone through the westerly forest upon the adventurers. They all stopped in their tracks when they could see a great beacon of comfort 50 horizons away. It’s snow-capped peak twinkling the last of the evening sun.

“A lonely mountain. The only range on the map is southeast of here, near the Catefur River,” Ryder said, rolling his map.

Durge sighed, “A journey we had there before.”

Dalon spun his spear, “When there’s one mountain… there’s usually more that follow.”

“And with it come new adventures!” Bell cheered.