“Batty” “Double-B” Barns sulked the whole caravan ride to Emberwood Village. It was a crowded ride, the Crew stuffed into the small wagon like cattle to the slaughter—and in a way, they were off to the “slaughter.” Sneerhome had been Barns’ home for the last few years, ever since the Emberwood Village mine collapsed. But now, because of one mistake, everything he’d built in the bustling city came crashing down.

So yes, in Barns’ mind, he was marching to his execution. But he straightened his shoulders, fixed his posture, and adopted his devilish smirk—even if he didn’t feel like smirking internally. He had to; not for himself, but for the Crew. He was their leader, their gang boss. They were friends, they were family.

Barns scanned his eyes over his family. They were an odd bunch, a group of nobodies and has-beens, street trash and the discarded. They were scarred, left to die, and ridiculed. But each member, each family member, had their own story, their own reason to get up and try. And it was that exact notion that Barns founded the Crew on.

To get up. To not let the world beat you down. To take hold of every opportunity as if it was your last.

But as Barns now knew, fly too close to the sun, and the sun will swallow you whole.

“Stop moping,” a voice to Barns’ right said. He turned, finding Erin, the Crew’s very own half-elf. “You tried, you failed, and your conquest of Sneerhome will be talked about for generations.”

Erin was shorter than a human by a head, a fact that that, in a vacuum, didn’t mean much. But in the case of elves, meant the world. Pure-blooded elves were terribly confrontational toward any non-pure elf. Most half-breeds hid their faults to the ends of the world or purposely flaunted them like a peacock’s feathers.

Erin wasn’t allowed to choose. Her height marked her as a half-breed from a glance since no self-respecting elf would dare allow themselves to be shorter than an average human. What that meant realistically, Barns didn’t know—and it wasn’t like Erin would tell them either. The Crew might be a family, but everyone had their secrets. Erin’s parents were hers and hers alone.

“I’m not moping,” Barns said to her, crossing his muscular red orcish arms and flashing a hint of teeth through his smirk. He wasn’t as buff as some of his fellow Emberwoodians, but then again, he didn’t care to be. He was a thief by trade, a profession that needed speed more than brawn.

“Your eyes lie,” Erin said with a hint of bitterness. “You’re upset.”

She always had a thing about eyes. Something about her lineage, no doubt. Barns held his tongue on that fact and simply shrugged. “I just… didn’t expect it to end this way.”

A new voice drew the attention of everyone in the wagon. “This ‘way’ being because of a failed mission courtesy of Arlo?”

Barns gritted his teeth, his smirk waning for a fraction of a second. The speaker was Million, Mel for short. As the sole goblin of the Crew, Mel always spoke his mind. According to him, that was just the way goblins were, and since no one else had ever met another goblin, the fact stuck. Of course, everyone had their own thoughts on the subject.

Glancing to Arlo, Barns watched the teenager sink into himself. Arlo was the youngest of the group, and the newest member of the Crew. He was human, a fact Mel mocked incessantly. “Arlo’s only human.” “Arlo can’t help it, he’s human, after all!”

Goblins were unmistakable by way of their oblong heads and crooked chests. They looked as if an elf and a halfling had a baby, and that baby was sucker punched as a newborn and grew backward instead of up. Mel was no different.

“Arlo didn’t do anything wrong,” Barns said, drawing a hesitant eye from the kid. “It was my fault. I should’ve given him more intel on Emberwood Village. I knew the mayor would be an issue, but I just didn’t think she’d be so spry. She was ancient when I still lived there.”

The statement wasn’t good enough for Mel. “They have a fricken World Walker! Of course, they’d catch him!”

Barns blinked. “That’s true.”

“And apparently, they’ve been breeding dire-wolves and magical ravens. Arlo failed the mission, and you, Double-B, failed to gather proper information.” The goblin shrugged, his awkwardly shaped shoulders flexing under his thick pale skin. “Happens.”

And there’s the Mel I know, Barns told himself. The man is blunt, but also fair. Arlo’s taking his role in all of this unfairly, the blame is solely on me.

“Chin up, Arlo,” whispered the fifth member of the crew, Wail, the banshee. Her voice carried across the air rather than through it, giving everyone in the wagon a shiver. “It wasn’t your fault, nor was it Barns’. And besides, it’s not like we’re dead or captured or anything.”

Barns reluctantly agreed. Everyone was hale, everyone was free. And yet, the Crew was dying like a doe with an arrow through the heart. This next chapter in life was up in the air, but at least they had each other.

Wail shifted the air currents in the wagon, touching Arlo’s cheek as if she physically touched him. Arlo bristled under the touch, fluttering into a proper sitting position. A smile crossed his face, the tickle of the air magic too much for any mortal man—a fact everyone in the crew knew well.

Banshees, in their ethereal grandness, were beings of magic. They flowed with the wind; they parted the clouds. They were, technically, immortal, but only because they were, technically, undead. Cut off Wail’s head with a sword, and she’d die. But as long as there was air, she would never age—never die of old age.

Shifting the air currents around, Wail fixed her short black hair at the same time she adjusted Arlo’s collar and dusted his coat off. Everyone in the wagon quirked an eyebrow at the scene.

“You smitten or something?” Mel flatly asked.

Wail froze, the wisps of air surrounding her turning opaque. Her currents departed Arlo, drifting back to her with haste. She then sunk into her seat, a puff of air covering her like a cocoon. Heatless blazing steam hid the cocoon in a field of blur, blocking their stares and Barns’ smirk.

“Play nice,” Barns said. “If Wail is interested in Arlo, that’s her and Arlo’s business, not yours.”

“Nooooooooooo…” whispered from the cocoon, filling the enclosed area. If there was one thing to say about banshees, they had impeccable volume control.

Arlo turned red and said, “I—I wouldn’t mind trying it…”

Everyone in the wagon froze.

Erin was first to thaw. “Well, I’ll be, look at you go Ar.” She glanced at Barns, giving a little wink.

Barns blushed. Their relationship wasn’t hidden from the Crew, but it also wasn’t on display. Privacy and secrets meant more to this group than the beds they slept in—so advertising that he and Erin slept in the same bed wasn’t on his or her daily explanation dockets.

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The cocoon of air dispelled, and a wide-eyed Wail stared at Arlo. “You mean it?”

The kid shrugged. “I mean… yeah?”

“Is that a question?” Mel demanded.

Arlo tucked his chin and thought. Then, like a Hero from the legends, he puffed out his chest and locked eyes with Wail. “I’d love to.”

Before Wail could respond, Mel said, “Love to what?”

The sixth and final member of the crew leaned up from the back of the wagon and wrapped his meaty hands around Mel’s mouth. Cyclops were known for their silence as much as their wicked eye—singular—sight. Tank, whose real name was not “Tank,” stood just taller than the wagon and half as wide. He took up four seats all by himself and groaned with annoyance when Mel started gnawing his palms.

“Stop.”

The single word shook the wagon and caused Mel to surrender. Another fact the Crew had long grown accustomed to, once Tank spoke, whatever he said was gospel. He was smart like that—he chose his words carefully, so when he said to do something, everyone knew to trust it.

“Thanks, Tank,” Barns said with a sigh. “You really just can’t help yourself, can you, Mel?” He shook his head as the goblin resigned himself to his silent fate. “You guys know what? I think Arlo and Wail’s budding relationship is a good thing—poetic, even.”

Erin adopted her crew leader’s smirk. “I think I know what you mean. We’re beginning something new, may as well do it with a special someone.”

Barns held his breath as Erin gave him that special look of hers. The half-elf had eyes that could kill a man, and the baggage to accompany them. By the gods, what Barns wouldn’t do to be alone with her right now.

“That’s why,” Erin continued, “as one of the Crew’s founding members, I make a formal request for Mel and Tank to find a special someone they can also navigate these trying times with… perhaps each other?”

Mel and Tank slowly looked at each other. The cyclops gave an affirmative shrug, much to the horror of the goblin. As everyone in the wagon broke out laughing, Mel crossed his arms and sunk into his seat—enduring teasing much like his teasing of Arlo moments ago.

Meanwhile, Wail and Arlo smiled bashfully at each other.

***

“And with that, welcome to World Walker Park!”

Barns set his jaw and yawned as the World Walker finished the day’s opening speech. Mayor Tram had told Barns and the Crew to arrive early enough not to miss it—which was difficult since the park opened so early in the morning. The sleep schedule of a street gang didn’t fully accommodate morning welcomes such as this.

“So that’s our new boss,” Barns muttered loud enough so everyone in the Crew could hear.

Erin playfully smacked him on the arm. “You’ll always be our boss, Boss.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, and I don’t really care. I’ll be the first to tell him to piss off, if it comes down to it.”

“Better not,” Arlo darkly said. “They still have my poncho… and they’ve big muscular beasts on the attack.”

Ignoring Erin’s response to the kid, Barns studied the World Walker. He was young, no older than Barns himself, but also… not. The man held his back straight, but also had thick gray bags under his eyes. He spoke to the crowd from the heart but stumbled and slurred the occasional word. His hair was shaggy and combed by way of greasy fingers, long enough to warrant a proper cut but short enough to not make a statement.

Barns had long mastered the art of scamming nobles. One of the first lessons he learned was how to blend in. And while the World Walker was obviously not of noble birth, the same appearance standard applied—such was the noblesse of reincarnation. And yet, the man welcoming the rather large crowd to the park was nothing short of a dirty commoner.

A fact that, as Barns knew quite well himself, was strange. No self-respecting young man of suitor status would look like the World Walker did. Not unless—of course—he was already taken, inept, or belligerent.

Or maybe his old world didn’t care about appearances? Barns asked himself. The thought was a strange one, one that felt as alien as the concept of World Walkers. But then again, he saw no reason to believe it. The World Walker obviously cared about appearances—just not his own.

Case in point, the monstrosity that was the park’s welcome sign.

It simply read “World Walker Park.” But that was where the usualness of the sign died and was swept under the rug.

The sign towered over the closed gate. It attached to the ground via thick metal, wood, and stone girders, the kinds they used at the warehouses for storage. It craned from its stem, budding into a fluted organic spiral similar to the very emberwood trees it was planted amongst. Imprinted within the “tree,” wooden leaves spun around the metal lettering as if an isolated tempest tore through the forest of metal framework.

It was… nice, Barns supposed. Not his first choice in styling, but no doubt a style the World Walker chose in order to make a statement. Which related back to the man’s appearance. The man didn’t care about himself—or was spoken for—but he cared very much about his park.

Barns licked his lips and said, “I think we’re going to be fine working under the World Walker.”

Erin raised an eyebrow. “Another ‘Batty’ Barns instinct?”

He hooked his fingers between hers and pulled her close. “Of course.” He held off from kissing her, solely because he just knew Mel would say something snarky. Instead, Barns pulled Erin forward and said, “Now come on. Let’s go meet him before Tram finds us.”

***

“So, you’re the new security guys?”

Barns frowned at the question. He and the Crew stood before the World Walker and his snow white dire-wolf—a fact Arlo was not happy about… even though the big scary wolf was the size of a small barrel… not the massive hulking man-killer Arlo made it seem.

The wolf, Leo, sat with his chin on the World Walker’s shoulder, tucked into the man’s hood like some kind of baby cradle. The little guy watched the Crew as they watched him, completely uncaring of the strange looks he was getting.

Briefly, Barns stole a glance at his crew. After a collective pause, everyone turned and stared incredulously at Arlo. Erin slipped Barns’ hand and nudged Arlo—which caused him to flinch. Mel snickered while Wail pursed her lips.

“That’s us,” Barns said, forcing himself to focus on the World Walker. “Let me introduce everyone. I’m Barns, this is Erin, Mel, Wail, Tank, and you’ve already met Arlo.”

The World Walker lifted his chin and stared down at the kid. Slowly, as if remembering was painful, he nodded. “Arlo… Arlo… I can’t say I know an Arlo.”

Arlo froze on his feet. “We met… I was wearing an invisibility poncho.”

Leo, with his chin still on the World Walker’s shoulder, growled. The World Walker then snapped his fingers. “I remember now! Sorry, it was a long, long night. And wow, you look completely different without half of your body invisible.”

“R-right,” Arlo lamely said.

“Leo, stop growling. He’s working with us now, no being mean,” the man said with a sigh. The wolf turned his head to the side and ignored the Crew. “Anyways, I’m Luka.”

“Pleasure,” Barns quickly said, reaching his fist out.

Luka lightly punched his knuckles before rising to his toes and looking over the crowd. “Well, I don’t really know what you’re expected to do here. Security, obviously. But I don’t know what that looks like in this world. Let me go find Ginna or Tram—actually, you all know Ginna and Tram, right?”

“I used to live here,” Barns said. “I know both.”

“Oh, okay. Uhh… I’ll go find Tram then. She told me she was going to handle you guys.”

“Please don’t.”

Barns gritted his teeth and looked down at the speaker, Mel. The goblin’s crooked face was in something akin to a frown but one more manipulative. It’d taken years for Barns to learn all of Mel’s idiosyncrasies, a task easier said than done.

“Oh?” the World Walker asked. “Why not?”

“Obvious, isn’t it?” Mel retorted after a heartbeat. “If we’re going to be security, we better have a look around the park first. You know, to do our job better.”

Barns wanted to punch the goblin. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chanted in his head.

Luka wasn’t so gullible. “Tell you what, how about you all take a ride on our newest attraction, and I’ll find Tram in the meantime.”

“Newest attraction?”

“Whirlpool Plunge,” Luka said with a yawn. “Spent all night creating it and the connecting building. Follow me.” He started to move before abruptly halting. “But you all have to do me a favor.”

Barns hated favors. “What is it?”

“You have to critically give me your thoughts on the ride. Unfortunately, because it’s so new, the sample size of people who’ve ridden it is small. And of that small group, most are elderly villagers and orphaned kids who either think it’s the most frightening thing they’ve ever done or the coolest, most-est awesome-est thing they've ever done. So, I need some objective opinions.”

Hesitantly, Barns agreed.