FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Vailadriel

The fire quickly consumed the small stack of broken sticks I had set ablaze. The small heat given off by the flames was little relief from the bombardment of winter, but I hardly noticed.

I tossed more branches on, regardless. The flames grew for a moment, before quickly waning once again.

A single image filled my minds’ eye. One that bore a terrible hole in my chest just as it brought a sliver of comfort. A comfort that I could feel slipping away every moment like the waning flames of my pitiful fire.

The shy grin of a well-groomed gnoll, too honorable and just for his own good.

His eyes reflected the moonlight on the balcony in Rainhaven, seemingly a lifetime ago. I could still taste his lips, the feeling of his large flat tongue as it intertwined with mine…

And then it was gone. As if it was as fleeting and light as the smoke before me, drifting within reach, yet still ungraspable.

Anger shook me, causing me to unintentionally send the fire into a rage instantly.

My mother had always warned me away from using emotions to fuel magic. Rage caused a mind to cloud. It could provide strength to a spell, however it often came with a cost. A clouded mind was not fit for making wise decisions. At least, that is what she would say.

The lifeless body of Lord Aquilis toppled to the floor now. He had supported my love for Rekkdyr. His support was repaid with death.

I now poured more hatred into the spell adding to the flames. They caught quickly, making my tiny fire into an inferno that nearly consumed the entire glade.

I could feel its heat beginning to sear my face, but I didn’t care. I could feel a terrible pain in my chest, and I fueled my hatred with the emptiness.

The flames turned from a dance of red and orange to one of purple and blue. I could feel the darkness at the edge of hearing, and a faint voice whispered out to me.

“Princess Vailadriel?” I startled, focus breaking instantly.

The glade returned to normal about me. I spun around to vent my frustrations on whoever this newcomer was.

Standing before me now was an older satyr unsurprisingly dressed in nothing save for a small leather loincloth. At least he had that. Many of his kin would forgo the use of attire altogether.

“No, satyr, I do not wish to ‘ease my sorrow’ by joining you in a ‘good romp’.” I snapped with a glare.

He frowned, glancing down at the snow-covered forest floor for a moment.

“I could never ask that of you.” He commented, turning to go. “I’ve merely come to inform you that King Oddvarr was sad to have missed you at the council.” He added.

“Wait!” I said, taking a step to follow.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned back to me, a small comforting smile returning to his goat-like human face.

“Don’t worry about it. Just stirred memories I’d rather were left in the past.” He commented.

“What about you? How are you holding up?” he asked, stepping closer.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling the urge to take a step back from the satyr.

I had seen enough in my short time amongst the fey to understand just how lustful a satyr can be.

“I-I’m fine.” I commented.

“With all due respect, my lady, you are not.” The fey stated.

“I-I’m not. One moment, I feel capable of marching back to Rainhaven and driving a sword through Rekkdyr in vengeance, the next, I feel like all of the guilt and the sorrow in the world is crushing down on my chest, threatening to thrust me into the earth.” I explained.

I don’t know why I bared my soul to him. I didn’t even know this satyr’s name.

“Guilt?” he asked.

I gazed into his eyes, searching for the meaning behind the question. His expression was almost fatherly. Nothing like the behavior I’d come to expect from the rest of his kin.

“Where to begin? If I had never gone to Drifa for a pointless festival, then I would have never been captured. I would have never met Rekkdyr, and would have never fallen in love. He would have never felt it necessary to leave, for fear of my future. He would have never ventured to that damnable island, Manir.” I was trembling as I spoke, fresh tears freezing as they ran down my face.

“Hey, come, sit with me by the fire.” The satyr said, drawing an arm about me, and leading me to the heat.

“It seems any dealings with Manir lead to scars of guilt.” He commented, as we sat beside the fire.

I glanced up at the creatures face, seeing the lines of age which now seemed out of place on such a long-lived race.

“In my younger days, I was much like many of my kin. Carefree and promiscuous. Perhaps even more so.” He gazed distantly into the flames as he spoke.

“It was this carefree and recklessness that found me in the dungeons of Manir, in chains after a night with a seemingly lovely, black-haired human lass. If the promise of sex hadn’t been clouding my mind, I may have noticed how she lacked a shadow, or how there was a faint scent of blood and death to her. Or how her skin was cool to the touch.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“…She was a vampire, you see, and a powerful sorceress. And she was bait, hoping to catch any fey foolish enough to wander into her arms. There is magic to fey blood, as you very well know. A magic that the sort of breeding experiments in Manir could greatly benefit.”

I could feel the fey trembling beside me now, though I doubted it was due to the cold.

I leaned against him, trying to provide what little comfort I could.

“…I was used as a breeding stud, like humans would a well-bred warhorse. I imagine many satyrs would find joy in that, but not I. No, I was forced, through some powerful sorcery, to throw myself upon many poor souls against their will, and mine. Even as I looked upon the fear in the faces of those I violated, I could hear that voice coming from somewhere, and nowhere all at once. Whispering to me, urging me on.”

He paused for a moment, and I could feel a single tear splash upon my head.

“So, Princess Vailadriel, I am well acquainted with guilt. It is a companion I’ve walked with for nearly sixteen years now. Know that the only thing you are guilty of is loving a creature who was brave and strong, and willing to sacrifice himself to rescue his companions in a dungeon so dark, even the Naettura had forgotten it. There is no crime there.”

Renewed tears worked down my own cheeks.

He continued, eyes never leaving the dancing flames.

“Do not wonder or wish for what might have been. That has already been lost. The past is gone, but the future still remains. How we choose to meet it is up to us.”

We sat in silence for a while, each gazing into the fire, lost in our own thoughts, but not alone.

“Sixteen years?” I asked at length.

“Manir has been experimenting for a long time. I was capture in the early years of their experimentations. I likely have blood children in the world from those dark times, and the thought frightens me.”

“How did you escape?” I asked.

“It is quite a long tale. Sometimes, I wonder if some passing spirit took pity on me. More likely, in my delirium, I imagined the voices. I managed to overpower one of the dungeon masters’ aids at the urging of a distant voice. At first, I thought it was another trick. Visions and illusions were not uncommon, but something was different about this one. I could feel strength in my limbs at her urging, and I acted on it. I slammed the aides head into the stone of the dungeon with a headbutt, took his keys, and fled.”

The satyr paused again, and I could feel his heartrate quicken as he told the tale. His voice quivered slightly.

“My actions still seemed foreign to me, as if I were in a daze. Lack of proper rest and food, I imagine. I stopped at another door, hearing a small cry from within. This door was not locked, and upon entering, I found out why. This cell did not hold any beast or prisoner for the experiments. It held one of the outcomes. A hybrid. A mere child, laying naked and cold in a small open crate.”

I gazed up at him now.

“This child was humanoid, though it resembled a red fox, complete with muzzle, claws, and tail. I could tell almost immediately that the infant was part fey, though I didn’t know how. I almost fled right there, the very sight of the hybrid stoking flames of fear. What was its purpose? Was it evil? But I could not. Looking into the tiny infants face, I could not bring myself to abandon it in this hell. So I took him with me, and I fled.”

I followed his gaze back into the fire, which was only coals now.

“What happened to the child?” I asked.

“Off on some adventure, somewhere, I imagine. My sons are just as carefree and reckless as I once was. I have not spoken to either in many months. I worry sometimes…” He trailed off.

“Upon returning to Avaltiss, I was met by Oddvarr, who confirmed the child’s fey heritage, as well as that of the Naettura. He foresaw this creature being powerful, and asked that I raise him as my own, alongside my blood son from one of my earlier…relationships. As if I had any choice in the matter. I had grown attached to the kit during our journey across the sea.” He said with a distant grin.

“He is the offspring of a Naettura and a fey?” I asked, shocked.

“That is what Oddvarr believes. I suspect he knows more, but I have accepted his rule. There are only three creatures that know this full story, Princess Vailadriel. Oddvarr, and myself, and now you. I would appreciate if you keep it quite?” he explained.

“Of course. Not even the child knows?” I asked.

“I’ve tried to tell Tokala many times now, but I always hesitate. He knows that the events of his birth were not willing, and that he was conceived from the sins of Manir, but I fear how he would view me in light of this story, or how he would behave if he knew the full truth of his heritage.”

“Having never met him, I couldn’t possibly begin to know how he would react. But, perhaps, he deserves to know?”

He took a deep breath, and I turned away to drop more sticks into the fire.

“He certainly does. But I am a coward.” He replied at length.

“You fought back against your captors, and even carried him with you across the sea. I think he knows the love you hold for him. He will understand.”

The satyr gave a soft grin, distant gaze drifting back into the flames.

“I never gave you my name.” he commented suddenly. “I am called Cesan.”

I returned his smile, taking some comfort in the warmth it brought, however slight.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Cesan.”

His smile widened, and he turned back to the fire.

We sat in silence once more.

I sighed, the distraction of his tale only momentarily pulling me from my own pain. The warmth quickly drifted away.

“Skempta believes there is still hope. Even offered to escort you back to Rainhaven, since you demanded it, though she was reluctant. Feels it would be safer for you to remain here.”

“And what, live out the rest of my days with the fey, waiting for the growing darkness to find us?” I asked, though there was no harshness in the question. Only sorrow.

“Not all of us are that bad.” He grinned. “Besides, there may be another way.”

I scanned his gaze for a sign of his meaning.

“You missed the big reveal at the meeting, Princess. A halfling arrived last night. The first one to travel through the fey gate in centuries.”

“Halfling?” I asked.

“Indeed. He knew Skempta, or at least recognized her. Came from the ancient circle in the far north, beyond the frozen wastes.” He replied.

“C-Camden?” I asked, drawing a mental image of Ciara O’Connors twin brother.

“Ah, that was his name!” the satyr said, rising to his feet.

“What of Aklys? The Naettura?” I asked, rising as well.

“Should have come to the meeting!” the satyr laughed, turning from the glade.

He paused at the edge, glancing back.

“Well, you coming?”

Tokala

A cold morning found me much too quickly as I yawned wide, sitting up with a stretch and shiver.

Despite my thick coat and fluffy tail, I trembled against the freezing air, shifting closer to the heat of the fire.

“Good. You can tend the fire. I burnt my muzzle multiple times trying to keep it fed.”

I turned my gaze to the massive white wolf, who sat resting in the snow nearly ten feet away.

Sure enough, the fur near his massive jaws was slightly singed.

“Don’t suppose you get very cold, do you?” I commented, tossing on a large branch.

“My kind are born to withstand worse storms than this.” Aatu replied.

I scanned the damp mound protruding from the swamp that served as our camp. A heavy snow fell upon us in the early predawn light.

“Where I’m from, storms tend to be much more pleasant affairs.” I yawned again, shaking the icy powder from my fur.

“How so?” the giant creature asked, cocking his head slightly to the side like an overgrown puppy.

I stifled a laugh at the comparison.

“Certain nymphs get all worked up and wet when the weather turns bad.” I winked.

I couldn’t stop the chuckle this time as the memory of various thunderstorm orgies flashed through my head like the lightening that gave life to them.

I tossed another branch on the flames.

“You seem to have recovered well from your ordeal.” The wolf stated.

I sat back, eyes meeting his silvery black orbs.

“Uh, well, yeah…”

Aatu rested his muzzle between his paws again, though his eyes never left mine.

“I would warn against such careless use of magic. No matter how easy or natural it may seem.”

A part of me wanted to protest. To point out he had himself seen that I was enthralled by another. But I just couldn’t.

I thought back to the thousands of times I had used a simple glamour or charm to play a prank or slip into someone’s bed.

“I’m sure you’ve felt the sort of connection such magic has to the rest of the world. Each action has a consequence.” He added.

Now, I’m sure he was advocating a zen-religious sort of use of magic, which was certainly not in my nature.

Not in the nature of any fey, really. Yet I had to admit, there was some wisdom in his words. If I had perhaps hesitated in my desire to assist the refugees, Fyrsil and I may have designed a better plan, which held less risk.

Not that that was our way.

I glanced at the sleeping phooka, curled up beside me in his fluffy goblin-like form.

“I suppose I should be more careful. I wonder if my weakened state left me vulnerable to that enchantment?” I replied at length.

“It’s possible.” The wolf agreed.

We sat in silence for a while, the wolf turning his gaze upon the sun as it slowly crested the eastern horizon. Its rays seemed ineffectual in penetrating the marshes canopy of skeletal branches.

I watched the beauty of the sunrise for a moment before scanning the small camp about us. Araed had somehow managed to find a place as near the fire as possible, yet as far from the rest of us as he could manage.

My eyes fell next on the halfling who slept just beyond the flames from me.

Ciara was certainly an attractive specimen for her species. Well proportioned, with a small youthful vigor that somehow spoke of both endurance and inexperience at once.

She was young for her kind, I knew. Must be on the cusp of adulthood, and somehow lost in the middle of some wild adventure. My gaze slowly drifted back to the wolf, who I realized had been looking at me.

He quickly glanced away, seemingly embarrassed.

The look reflected the one I had noticed the previous day when I had properly introduced myself to the halfling. Jealousy, perhaps?

I chuckled slightly, thinking back to the exchange.

It had been innocent enough, as I recalled it.

Was the wolf druid jealous? Or was this merely some protective instinct?

I mean, the animal was certainly wise beyond anything I’d seen in any of his kind before, but could he really overcome his true nature?

“Ciara seems lovely.” I commented.

His attention snapped back at me instantly.

“Indeed. She is kind and skilled.” He said.

“Haven’t met many halflings. What sort of things does she like?” I asked.

I could see the wolf shift somewhat uncomfortably.

“I haven’t known her for very long. She is rather protective of her brother. She is also a skilled hunter for one so small.” He replied.

“Why are you interested?” he asked.

A good hunter? I’ve been in rather dull company, but really? I guess I should have known what to expect from a druid-trained wolf.

I still couldn’t decide if he was into the lass or merely overprotective.

“I saw how she handled those arrows. Very Impressive. Think a scruffy fox like myself has a shot with her?”

I could see a strange look come to the animals’ eyes as he gave a slight jerk in place, before forcing himself to slowly rise to his haunches with noticeable effort.

It took a great deal of willpower to resist laughing right there.

“I’m not well versed with humanoid mating habits, but I doubt any copulation between you two would result in young.” He was obviously trying very hard to stifle a growl. It failed miserably.

A small chuckle slipped out.

“You don’t ‘copulate’ for children, wolf! You do it for fun!” I explained, trying my best at mimicking his deep growl of a voice with the word “copulate.”

“My kind are unfamiliar with this ‘play’ mating.” He growled.

His eyes shifted slightly to the halfling who still slept.

It was then I knew the truth. He was certainly being protective, but I doubted it was entirely due to some pack instinct driving him.

“Something tells me you’re not quite in touch with ‘your kind’.” I mocked.

I gave him the most seductive gaze I could muster, even accidentally letting slip a bit of magic.

“Maybe I could show you sometime? One canine to another? I know all the right places…”

He shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to the sleeping halfling and back so quickly I almost missed it.

“Oh, I think someone has a little crush!” I grinned, eyes shifting to the halfling as well.

“W-what do you mean?” the wolf stuttered.

I went on attack.

“I’ve seen how look at her. Have to be blind not to see you want to bury that bone of yours.”

I had him.

“I-I don’t know what I feel.” He stated, eyes lowering, his fluffy ears lying flat.

It was so adorable! I almost felt bad for the poor pup.

I’d heard humans called winter wolves tundra phantoms sometimes. Ghost wolves. The thought made me laugh again. Some ferocious monster of legend he was.

“My friend, you look like a love-struck stag getting ready to lock antlers with anyone who may come between you and the lovely lass. Just remember, I’m a much smaller, though somewhat more attractive buck. While it pains me to act so counter to my nature, I will not pursue the lass, knowing full well that your antlers are sharper.”

He relaxed noticeably somewhat.

“And hey, take it from me, I think she’s into you too.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“The way she demanded to remain with you when you heroically covered our clumsy retreat to the bog? I’m pretty certain she wants that stallion of a wolf cock.”

A low growl escaped his muzzle.

“Woah! Did not mean any offense. Just making an observation!”

“Caring for someone can come without mating, Tokala.” He said, calming somewhat.

“Since when?!” I gasped, acting utterly shocked.

The wolf shook his head.

“Awe, c’mon, I’m just having fun at your expense. My hope is that through knowing me, a fellow like you may learn to relax a bit.”

“I’m not in the mood to relax a bit. There are enemies all around us, and a great darkness is rising in the world. We face a storm unlike any other. I cannot ‘relax’.”

I paused for a moment, absorbing his words. I do suppose, if his story had been true, that they had been through a lot. If I had lost Fyrsil or Cesan…I’m not sure what I would do. This wolf seemed to be remarkably put together, despite everything. Maybe I could see why his demeanor was so prickly and serious after all.

“Well, that was very melodramatic. I forget how you religious types can be. But I understand. And I am sorry if I offended you.” I said at length.

“It is nothing, Tokala. I just don’t see any use in copulation without the intention to procreate, especially now of all times.”

Copulation without procreation. This wolf would not be out of place in one of the academy debate halls if it weren’t for his white fur coat.

“But that’s what makes it more important than ever!”

I drew a strange look from the beast.

“To find comfort in a lover means life, even if it is not done with the intent to reproduce, my friend. To bask in their warmth, their scent. To know that that is what it means to live freely and true. To shrug off the confinements of a society built on lies and falsehoods. To remember that primal sense of world, the very same primal existence that you yourself study in your druidcraft. That you are born of in your feral form.”

I could see him considering my words deeply. Perhaps that is how I would get him. Using big, fancy “druid talk.”

“…Living for the sole purpose of living. That is what is important now, more than ever. For what is life if you refuse to live it? What existance could possibly await us, if we allow ourselves to forget what it is we fight for in the first place?”

“I imagine you’ve convinced many with that silver tongue.” He replied at length, though clearly my words had affected him.

“I’ve done many things with this tongue…” I said with a seductive wink.

“You are correct that I do care for the halfling in a way that my body responds too. However, our differences are too great to act upon. I appreciate your words of wisdom, as I do believe that there is truth to watch you speak. However, I fear they may not be entirely applicable here.”

I was grinning as he spoke, knowing I had hit it dead on.

“Well, hey, if you’re afraid of some sort of deep connection, than you know I’m always open for some fun.”

He gave me a very dry look.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I stood and gave an exaggerated stretch.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, time to tell everyone that the wise old wolf druid wants to have some wet and wild sex with his little halfling.”

Panic shot through his eyes, and he drew a sharp breath. Moving to his feet.

For a split second, I was certain he was about to blast me with that notorious frost gale his kind could conjure up.

I tensed, fully expecting to be frozen solid within seconds.

“NO!” he yelped.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer, suddenly exploding into laughter, startling everyone else awake about us.

“Wha-what’s so funny! What did I miss?” Fyrsil asked, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Aatu just told a very funny joke! Didn’t know you had it in ya!” I laughed.

Ciara glanced at the wolf in question but he appeared incapable of returning her gaze.

“I could have gutted you!” Araed growled furiously, drawn dagger returning to its sheath.

He clearly had a restless night.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, Sir Araed.” I apologized.

With that, we all began to stir, breaking camp and attempting to cover all signs of our presence.

I did not share Aatu’s joke with the rest of the group, despite Fyrsils constant pestering to hear it.

Despite my teasing, I was appreciative that I had that small window into the beasts mind.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, we all stood before the human knight, who was moody, but surrounded with a strange aura of relief.

“Well, I suppose this is it.” The man said uncertainly.

Ciara approached the man, holding a small leather bundle.

“If you plan on heading to the Freshwater, it will be a dangerous road without provisions. Here, this is what’s left of my rations. A halfling can eat twice that of a human, so it should be enough to get you there.” She laughed, handing him the bundle.

He hesitated to take it.

“I couldn’t. What will you all eat?” he asked.

“We’ve got a wolf druid and a skilled halfling hunter. I think we’ll be fine!” Fyrsil laughed.

The human shot my brother a small glare, but took the bundle nonetheless.

“I appreciate your kindness, my lady.” He said, stooping impressively low to plant a light kiss on the halflings hand.

Her face flushed a color similar to that of my fur.

Curiously, I glanced at the wolf. He was busying himself very intently with grooming his fur like a giant cat.

“It’s the least I could do. I mean, you were willing to cast aside everything you knew to aid us. I don’t think we could ever repay such faith.” She replied.

I felt a pang of guilt.

“I-I’m not entirely sure why, either. I think I’ve got quite a deal of thinking to do.” He replied, flashing a glance my direction.

I lowered my gaze.

The wolf had been right, earlier. If I had been a more mindful of my magics use, he may not be in this situation now.

“Sir Araed. No words could possibly express how grateful I am. Nor could they express my deepest apologies. I feel I have taken something from you that you will never get back, and I will forever be in your debt. If you ever need anything. Do not hesitate.”

The man shifted uncomfortably as I took his hand. He really was quite attractive for a human, though something told me it was a hopeless pursuit without magic.

And I had messed with the poor man enough.

“I—uh, will keep that in mind.” He replied.

“You mentioned the Freshwater. Have you any plans beyond that?” Aatu asked.

“I’m unsure. I guess I will just have to explore my options.” Araed replied.

“I would extend an invite to the tundras of my home, but I am under no illusion you will accept.” The wolf said with a deep chuckle.

“I am proud to fight beside you, though. My father has been proven wrong about humans many times. You are an honorable man, Araed.” He added at length.

The human nodded to the wolf, seemingly lost in thought and voice.

Finally, he spoke.

“My eyes have been opened to a great many things in this world. I guess I owe that to you all. I’ve heard the legends of the Troll Witch, and if there is any truth to them, then I wish you the best of luck on your journey.”

“Farewell, Sir Araed Kappis.” I said, placing my hand in a fist and crossing it above my breast, the sign of respect and honor to knights of Eastwald.

To my surprise, he returned the gesture.

With that, we went our separate ways, an odd, heavy mood hanging between us.

Ciara O’Connor

Having parted ways with Sir Araed Kappis, we made our way northeast for several hours.

The going was slow, as the swamp made travel difficult.

It was also easy to get turned around, as the swamp had nothing in the way of landmarks. The sun also proved difficult to navigate by, as the sky seemed constantly shrouded in a strange icy mist that concealed the suns exact location once it reached midday.

If it wasn’t for Aatu’s true navigation spell, we would have likely gotten hopelessly lost.

Fyrsil had once again taken the form of a large wolf, but I couldn’t help but notice he altered the form slightly.

Instead of the large black male wolf that accompanied us the day before, he took the form an equally dark she-wolf.

I kept catching the phooka stepping close to Aatu, fanning his feminine canine tail back and forth, as if he was trying to invite the druid to mount.

I could tell the constant show was beginning to get to my canine comrade. He would forcibly look away, or hold his breath to avoid smelling whatever compelling pheromone the phooka sent his way.

I was growing weary of our companions already.

Once again, I sat mounted on Aatu as we went.

Tokala rode Fyrsil in a similar manner, though the two whispered and giggled to each other constantly. This made it difficult to keep an ear out for any potential threats in the bog.

Tokala would occasionally squirm in his position, clearly rubbing back against the rhythmic motion of his mount. This was usually met with a distracting buck from the she-wolf.

“Distracting, aren’t they?” Aatu whispered below me.

“I don’t think they quite understand the dangers of the Frostbogs.” I commented.

“How are you holding up? That phooka getting to you?”

He gave a slight chuckle.

“It’s fine. I’m not interested. No matter how hard he tries, it’s just not going to happen.” The wolf replied.

“Awe, c’mon!” Fyrsil said, trotting up with some very exaggerated bucking and hopping, much to the alarm of the humanoid fox on his back.

“Am I not a lovely she-wolf? I get you may not be into the whole male thing, but at least I’ve got the right parts now!” he commented.

“Awe, c’mon, Fyrsil. I really don’t think he is interested. And the lovely halfling on his back is contemplating sticking you with an arrow.” Tokala commented giving me a wink.

“Besides, your scent is driving me crazy. If you don’t cut it out with those canine pheromones, I may just have to stick you with an arrow myself.” He added.

“Is it just nonstop with you two?” I asked, shaking my head.

The pub back in Northmeadow had been full of drunk horny halflings, but these two were apparently insatiable.

“Hey, we have actually been very good with keeping the frolicking to a minimum!” Fyrsil said indignantly.

“That just may be contributing to our overabundance of desire.” Tokala added.

“I would appreciate it if you kept such distractions to less dangerous roads.” Aatu said at length.

“Oh, you two are no fun!” Fyrsil groaned.

“I suppose they’re right, though, Fyrsil.” Tokala said.

“Oh, alright!” he groaned.

We continued onward, wandering ever eastward whenever the swamp would allow.

The sky began to darken, heralding nightfall.

I leaned forward to whisper in Aatu’s ear.

“Still giving you problems?” I asked.

“The phooka? No, I can’t smell the heat anymore.” The wolf chuckled back.

“Good. Should we maybe look for a place to camp?” I asked.

“It would be wise. Though I fear that is dependent on our ability to find somewhere dry.” He replied.

“Hey! What are you to conspiring about up there?!” Fyrsil called.

I turned to respond when suddenly the large mound of earth shifted under Aatu, who shifted to gain his footing.

Before I could fully comprehend what happened, I was airborne, crashing into a deep pool.

The sudden explosion of cold water shocked my body, numbing my muscles.

Despite this, I kicked and fought with my tiny limbs, forcing myself towards what I thought was the surface.

My lungs threatened to burst, as I hadn’t been able to get a decent lungful before my plunge.

Icy air stung my face like needles as I burst through the surface.

Gasping, I saw a large, hulking beast with algae and moss growing across his back lumbering about. He swung at Fyrsil, who ducked to the side, casting Tokala onto a small mound of earth.

We must have mistaken this trolls back for yet another soggy mound protruding from the bog.

I quickly pulled myself from the icy water onto a mound of my own, eyes scanning for winter wolf.

I saw a flash of dirty white to my right, and saw him paddle out of the water onto another mound, giving a great shake.

“My charms are not working!” Tokala warned.

I saw a frosty blue glow come to Aatu’s eyes as he muttered something under his breath.

“The beast is enthralled!” he called.

Fighting the cold numbing in my fingers, I struggled to nock an arrow, dropping it.

I cursed to myself, trying again just as the troll slammed down with a squelch, narrowly missing Fyrsil.

Fyrsil gave a great leap, turning into a black eagle midair.

I finally managed to nock the arrow, letting it fly.

It struck deep into the back of the trolls head with a thud, causing him to jerk around with a violent roar.

With an imminent threat bearing down on me, and no real chance of escape in the swamp, I stood my ground, managing to launch two more arrows in rapid succession. One struck an eye, the other only grazed his cheek.

If my attach had much of an effect, it didn’t show. The troll leaped high into the air, raising both fists to slam down onto my tiny mound.

I managed to dive off the island in time, casting myself back into the icy water.

Kicking as hard as I could, I made for the next mound over, glancing back over my shoulder to see a giant clawed hand reaching for me.

“Brunhyrr!” Aatu’s voice echoed with the force of a storm.

I had to dive underwater to avoid the sudden flash and explosion of flames that struck the troll.

Even muffled by the murky water, I could hear the unworldly cry of agony as it echoed through the swamp.

Resurfacing, I managed to pull myself from the water once more, turning to see the troll writhing in agony, scrambling for the water to dowse the flames roaring on his flesh.

Without thinking, I quickly let soar three arrows, each into the creatures foot.

One caught in the ankle joint, locking the appendage in place, the other two Penetrating straight through to the wet earth below, effectively pinning that foot in place.

The creature, meeting resistance, tripped flat on his stomach.

A black flash of feathers dove talons first, tearing into the beasts face. I could see the arrow I had fired into his eye was ripped free, eye and all.

A clawed hand thrust up to strike at Fyrsil, but I quickly lobbed an arrow, weakening his blow.

Fyrsil dove easily, avoiding the attach from the injured limb, before climbing high into the sky again, circling around for another dive bomb.

I could see blood oozing from the trolls ruined eye sockets, seeing that he was temporarily blinded.

A pitiful wail echoed through the swamp as the beast rolled onto it’s back were it began to thrash violently.

His foot ripped free of the pinning arrows, and I could see the injuries were already beginning to heal.

“We need to end this now!” I shouted.

Aatu leaped beside me, his usually pristine white coat dripping with the green and brown sludge of the swamp.

“Brunhyrr!” He roared again, sending an explosion of fire into the foe once again.

The troll roared, rolling towards the water once again.

A large black form slammed down on the creature then, it’s roar more than a match for the trolls.

It took me a moment to realize the large black-furred cave bear was Fyrsil, who had slammed down on the beast to prevent it’s escape.

I could hear Aatu whispering another spell beside me, eyes focus on the large bear.

Fyrsil clamped his massive jaws around the trolls head, thrashing violently with all his might.

A sickening rip and snap echoed through the air as the head ripped free from the body.

With that, the troll fell still.

Fyrsil lumbered off the flaming corpse, quickly checking his fur for any signs of fire damage.

“You should be fine. I cast a spell to keep the flames from harming you.” Aatu stated.

“We should ensure that burns completely.” I stated, nodding to the corpse.

“Including the head.”

Tokala approached with his head hung low.

“I’m glad you guys are all okay.” He stated.

“That fellow did not taste very good!” Fyrsil spat, suddenly in his favorite, goblin-like form.

“Like rotten bog water and badly fermented potatos!”

I cringed at his description.

“We should be more careful.” Aatu gave a good shake beside me, showering me in the disgusting swamp sludge. Not that I wasn’t already covered in it.

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, turning away.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” I said with a small laugh.

“It’s not like I’m any wetter than before.”

He gave me a small grin. Still wasn’t used to that look on a wolf.

“Well, never fought a troll before!” Fyrsil laughed.

“That’s a new one, eh Tokala?”

When the fuzzy goblin’s eyes fell on his brother, I could see his grin fade into a frown.

“Tokala?”

I followed his gaze to the fox, who looked absolutely horrified.

“I-I couldn’t do anything. I was absolutely useless!” he whispered.

“Awe, come on! You’re a pacifist, not a warrior. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a fight like that. You’ve usually been able avoid them.”

I was still somewhat impressed with the ferocity the phooka was capable of in a fight. Even back in Mireshadow, he had shown no such combat abilities during the fight. But here. Something had certainly seemed different.

“But I couldn’t. Not this time.” Tokala said.

“If it is indeed the Troll Witch we face, than it would be impressive if you could overpower her magic alone. There is no shame in this.”

“I-I guess. I just…froze up.” He replied.

“C’mon, your just still recovering. You’ll bounce back.” Fyrsil said.

“Can we discuss this later? It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to run into another one of those things. This fire is likely going to attract others.” I commented.

The others agreed. We moved off to put as much distance between us and the burning corpse.