"The hog is blocking the path you said leads to the cliff's ledge," Connie said, deftly sidestepping the conversation. "We can't go through unless we kill it."
I scowled. "Why can't we solve problems without violence?" I whispered, gripping my axe.
Then an idea hit me.
"You can talk to your rabbits, right? See through their eyes, hear what they hear?"
"I don't control them," Connie corrected loftily. "They follow me because they love me."
"…Sure. So why not have them distract the hog? Get it away from the path while we sneak through the passage?"
She considered it.
"Five of my rabbits are more useful than your entire crew," she said haughtily. "Distracting an overgrown pig won't be a problem." Then she nodded. "That's not a bad idea. I can make it work."
"And no one gets hurt." A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips.
She rolled her eyes. "Right. Let's go."
We crept forward, keeping low.
The rabbits scattered into action, darting around the hog, kicking up dirt and leaves. The creature grunted in confusion, whipping its head left and right, completely distracted.
I tensed, afraid they'd get trampled, but they moved too fast, skirting out of reach every time the hog lunged.
So far, so good.
We were halfway through. The hog wasn't as massive as the parents that had rammed through my house. A teenager, maybe? Still big enough to kill us if it landed a clean hit, but manageable.
It huffed in frustration, swiping at the ground with its tusks, still not noticing us.
Almost there.
Then—
"SLIIIIIIIME!!"
The scream nearly stopped my heart. I whipped around, weapon ready.
Meili.
She was on the ground, crab-walking backward, eyes wild, pointing at something—something that wasn't there.
"There's no slime," I muttered.
But she kept yelling, her breath ragged.
I frowned. Sleep deprivation could do that. I'd heard about hallucinations before—but now I was seeing it happen in real time.
Unfortunately, so was the hog.
The moment she screamed, its ears flicked toward us. It snorted loudly, hot breath pouring from its nostrils.
Its stance changed.
It was looking right at us now.
Then it scraped its hooves against the dirt—a warning.
A charge was coming.
"Guess the sham's over," I muttered, gripping my axe tighter.
Silver bared her teeth, a low growl rumbling in her chest.
Connie… squatted.
By now, I knew what that meant. She was about to pounce.
"Don't let it bellow," she whispered sharply. "Chances are the rest of them aren't far. If they hear it—"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to. We'd have a lot more to worry about.
I nodded.
Then the hog opened its mouth, muscles tensing—
Connie moved first.
She launched herself forward, twisting mid-air, and slammed her feet directly into the hog's skull.
A sickening crack echoed through the clearing. I still couldn't believe she could generate that much force. The thing was six times her size, and yet, she fractured its skull like it was nothing.
The hog squealed in pain, stumbling back.
Too loud.
I clenched my jaw, hoping the noise hadn't carried far enough to alert the rest. We needed to end this fast.
As strong as Connie was—and as much damage as Silver could do—I doubted they could take the hog down quickly. It was twice the size of a wolf.
We couldn't afford to drag this out.
"Hey, hey," I said carefully, stepping toward the panicked hog.
Connie whipped around.
"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, still crouched low. Her paws dug into the dirt. Her ears flattened.
I had never thought of rabbits as predators, but in that moment—watching her bare her teeth, muscles coiled like a spring—I was glad there weren't more giant rabbits like her running around.
I swallowed.
"Calming it down," I bit back.
Hogs were just giant pigs, right? And I'd lived with pigs my whole life.
I could do this. I raised my hands as I approached.
The hog's eyes flicked toward me—wary, distrustful. I moved slow.
Then, to show I wasn't a threat, I dropped my axe. Its nostrils flared, but it didn't move.
I inched closer. It let out a slow, heavy breath. Then, its eyes closed.
I thought I'd won it over.
Then it bellowed. Loud. Ear-splitting.
A horrible, deep, guttural sound that sent vibrations through my bones. My ears rang.
No. No, no, no, no—
It charged.
I barely had time to react. Pain ripped through my side—its tusk tore my shirt, leaving a shallow cut across my ribs.
I gritted my teeth.
Then the jaws opened. Huge molars. Stinking breath. My pigs back home ate grass and fruit. This thing didn't look like it was picky.
I wasn't going down like this.
I dug my feet into the soft dirt—
And lifted. The weight felt like it was crushinh my spine. For a second, I thought my back was going to snap in half as the bruises I had attained from Connie's one-sided beatdown yesterday began to resurface and throb furiously.
The tusks grazed my face, its jaws snapping at my head—
But I did it.
With a final heave, I threw it toward the opposite side of the clearing.
Connie took the opening. The hog struggled to get up—
But they weren't built for fast recovery.
Silver lunged, slashing at its stomach and sinking her teeth into its haunches. Connie twisted—then sent a roundhouse kick straight into its gut.
The hog shuddered. Bile leaked from the side of its mouth. It finally realized we weren't worth the trouble.
It turned tail and bolted—literally, its tail tucked between its legs.
"What is wrong with you?!" Connie seethed, fur bristling. "You could've died if we hadn't stepped in!"
I exhaled, rubbing my sore muscles, hoping I hadn't popped a tendon.
"They're just like you, Connie," I muttered.
She scowled. "Excuse me?"
"They lost their family," I said simply. "And they just want revenge."
I stretched out my arms with a wince.
"I just… thought I could pacify them."
"Well, your pacifying is going to get you killed," Connie spat—literally spitting as she said it, her ears pinned back in frustration.
I barely had time to react before—
Heavy snorts. Footsteps. The hogs were coming.
Behind me, Meili was frozen in place, her tiny frame trembling.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
Her breathing was too fast, her hands clenching and unclenching.
Connie scoffed. "Why don't we just leave you here for the hogs—"
"It's okay."
I cut her off before she could say something that would break Meili further.
Then, without hesitation, I scooped her up, my arms still burning, and my axe swinging as I hooked it at my side.
"We're leaving."
We ran. Back through the path we had walked yesterday. Through the wreckage of my home.
Through the forest, its canopy barely shielding us from the climbing sun. Through the cliff side.
Climbing. Climbing.
Then—
We found them. Exactly where we left them.
Lance was the first to notice.
"You came back?" he said, turning his head toward us.
His helmet still hid his face, but I could hear the tension in his voice.
Worry? Relief? Something like that.
They were sitting around the dead fire, surrounded by the bodies of spiders.
Lance was eating one—what looked like a charred leg, the brittle exoskeleton cracking between his fingers.
Kevin sat cross-legged, Ivory curled in his lap, motionless.
"Yes, we are!" I forced out, my voice too cheerful.
I lowered Meili to the ground. She had shivered the whole way here, even though the day was warm.
Then I noticed. One person was missing.
"…Where's Fee?"
Lance didn't answer immediately. His aura darkened.
"Take a look at Ivory."
I stepped forward. Ivory's breathing was shallow, her body limp. A twin puncture mark marred her fur. Dark green veins spread from the wound, creeping toward her stomach.
If it reached her heart—
Or her brain—
She was gone.
"No, no, no, no—"
I panicked.
Think, think, think.
Herbs. Medicine. Something.
But I was a lumberjack, not a healer.
Nothing came to mind.
"That's what Fee went out to do," Lance said with a tired sigh. "To find a cure."
I barely heard him.
"We planned to leave today. With or without you," he continued. "It's a good thing you showed up in time. Now all that's left is Fee."
I snapped my head up.
"Don't you care about Ivory?"
"Why should I? She's a wolf, not a priority." His voice was flat as he said that.
I stared at him. Not a priority?
Maybe it was because of my connection why with animals, but that comment made my blood boiled.
Lance didn't seem to notice—or care. Instead, his visor turned toward me.
"Also," he said coolly, "I noticed something during the spider attack."
He leaned forward slightly. "You didn't go for any fatal wounds. You didn't even try to kill them."
His words weren't angry. They were cold.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Looks like your stupid pacifism has been a problem for a while," Connie muttered, emerging from behind a rock.
Kevin, who had been silent this entire time, stiffened. The unfamiliar voice made him startle.
"Who are—what are you?" His eyes widened as he took in Connie's strange form.
She didn't even glance at him.
"I don't have time for foolish questions," she said.
The rabbits appeared next—crawling out from the rocks, darting between the bushes, watching us with their unblinking eyes.
"No, I think this is a question you need to answer," Lance said, his hand drifting toward his sword.
His voice was low, measured—but there was an edge to it.
"Hogan, who gave you the right to bring random people…" His eyes flicked toward Connie. "…monsters with us?"
Connie stiffened.
Her fur bristled, ears twitching at the insult.
I cringed and immediately jumped to her defense.
"She saved us from the spiders yesterday," I said quickly. "And she gave us a place to sleep. Plus, she's really good at fighting."
I tried a weak chuckle.
"Her kicks really pack a punch, ha-ha—"
Lance wasn't amused. His hand stayed on his sword.
"We can't afford any more liabilities right now." His gaze flicked warily toward the rabbits, eyeing them like they were watching him back.
Which, knowing Connie, they probably were.
"This is useless," Lance muttered. "We're wasting time. Where is—"
His unfinished question was cut off. Because Fee dropped onto the ledge from above.
I turned and—
She looked rough.
Her clothes were stained—mud, leaves, pig breath faintly wafted off her—but she didn't seem physically hurt.
Her expression, though…
Her eyes were wet—on the verge of spilling tears.
"Fee," Lance finished, his voice softening.
"I—I couldn't find anything," she stammered.
Her breath came out shaky, her hands clenched too tight. "I don't even know what to look for," she continued, voice wavering.
"This has never happened before."
She was shaking. I didn't know what to say. Neither did Lance. Or Kevin. 'It's going to be okay' felt too shallow.
"Maybe I should've just stayed behind," Fee whispered. Her shoulders shook.
"Maybe I should've just ignored you guys and lived my life. This never would've happened if I—"
"Ugh."
Connie's flat, unimpressed voice cut through the air.
"Can you stop whining? It's getting annoying."
A beat of silence. Then I felt it. Everyone's glare shifted to Connie.
Fee darkened. Her breathing evened, but not in a calm way.
More like she was fighting the urge to explode.
Her hands clenched at her sides.
"Who do you think you are? What do you think you are,?!" Fee growled. "And why are you even here? Answer me! You don't get to insult me!"
Connie's ears flattened against her skull.
For a second, I thought she was going to lunge.
Then—
She sighed. Not out of regret. More like she couldn't be bothered.
One of her rabbits hopped over to Ivory. It sniffed at the wound, its nose twitching.
And then, almost at the same time—
Connie's nose twitched too. Right. She could smell through her rabbits.
Fee was still tense, eyes locked on Connie because she didn't trust her. But Connie ignored her. She reached into a pocket sewn into her clothes.
Pulled out something. A strip of bark. Dark. Twisted. Something I had never seen before.
She muttered under her breath, barely audible. "Volarian roots."
Then, she crouched and sprinkled the shavings over the wound.
Fee tensed again. Her hands twitched—like she was ready to stop Connie if she made one wrong move.
But she didn't. She just let her do her thing.
"Hogan," Connie snapped. "Stop standing there like an oaf and give me some cloth to bind the wound."
I flinched. "Right," I muttered, quickly pulling my bandanna off my forehead.
It seemed Lancelot or Kevin, trending what Lance said earlier, it was probably Kevin, had tied a piece of cloth above the wound to prevent the venom from spreading as basic first aid.
I tied it firmly around Ivory's shoulder, keeping the roots pressed against the wound.
We all held our breath.
A minute passed. Then another. Nothing happened.
I was about to say something when—
Ivory's breathing shifted. It evened out. Her eyes fluttered open—slow, hazy, but alive.
Fee dropped to her knees beside her.
"Ivory…" she whispered, stroking her fur.
The wolf let out a soft huff, weak but aware.
"So… she's going to be okay?"
Fee's question was directed at Connie.
For the first time. Not as an enemy. But as someone who might actually know what she's doing.
"Not better," Connie corrected, "but it'll stop the poison from spreading. We're heading to the kingdom, right? There should be healers there."
Lance, being the one most familiar with the capital, spoke up. "Hopefully. But it's slim. The slime has taken out a lot of people. All we can do is hope."
The sun hung low in the sky, its golden light spilling lazily over Rame's Valley. The faint clicking of spiders echoed below, the sound crawling over my skin.
We were right back where we started yesterday.Trapped between the valley and the hogs. Only one way out.
Through the spiders.
"So what's the plan, boss?" Kevin asked, stepping up to peer over the ledge.
Lance shot him a look. "One: Don't call me 'boss.' Only 'Sir Lancelot' or 'Royal Guard Lancelot .'"
Kevin straightened his back with mock seriousness. "Of course, Sir Lancelot."
Fee snorted and rolled her eyes, still wiping at the last remnants of her tears.
Lance ignored them both. "Two: Remember the path I showed you earlier?"
Kevin nodded and traced a route with his finger.
A path leading far left. Behind an arching rock. Between two massive boulders. And finally, up the jagged cliffside steps that could take us straight to the other side of the valley.
It was the shortest route.
And, judging by the way the spiders moved, it had the least activity.
"That's how we're getting out." Lance tightened the grip on his sword and shield.
"Even if it looks clear, the second those spiders notice us, they'll call for backup," Connie pointed out, her ears flicking toward the valley.
Fee inhaled sharply through her nose. "I can help with that."
Her voice was steady, but there was a flicker of hesitation behind it.
She glanced at Ivory, still unconscious but breathing easier now.
It wasn't over, but at least it wasn't hopeless.
She pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it. "I'll stay up here. You guys handle whatever gets too close, and I'll take out any venomous ones before they can get to you."
To make her point, she let an arrow fly.
It buried itself straight into the skull of a green-eyed spider below. The thing twitched once, then collapsed.
The other spiders didn't even react.
They just scuttled over the corpse, moving on like nothing happened.
Fee exhaled, setting her shoulders. "I'll cover you."
"I still don't know if I trust you." Fee turned to Connie, her expression guarded. "But you did… something, for Ivory. Can you actually fight?"
Connie scoffed. "Better than you, I'd assume."
Fee clenched her jaw, but didn't take the bait.
As strange as it was, we were becoming a team.
Two knights.
An elf.
A kid.
A half-rabbit warrior.
Two wolves. One out of commission.
A pig.
And a lumberjack.
Definitely nothing could stop us.
I clapped my hands together, ignoring the dull ache in my side. "Alright. Let's pack up and get moving. Ivory's counting on us."
Kevin knelt down. "Wanna piggyback?"
Meili hesitated, then nodded, letting him help her onto his back.
Fee adjusted her grip on her bow, tilting her head at us. "And don't make me waste too many arrows keeping you guys alive!"
She started descending alongside us, her bow at the ready. "I had to waste some on the hogs on my way back, so let's play this safe."
Lance secured Ivory against his back so she wouldn't fall off, and then—
We began the descent.
Safe. Not a word I expected to hear from her.
"If you're staying behind to cover us, how are you planning to get across the valley?" Kevin asked, frowning.
Fee just smirked, knocking an arrow against her bow. "That's a secret for me to figure out."
Kevin's frown deepened.
Fee sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Relax. I have a plan. Trust me."
Lance muttered under his breath, "Hard to do that."
No one else heard it. Except me
Then—
The race to the other side began.