The road to Rockville Southern is a rocky path which doesn’t support carriage wheels so we were moving slower than a granny on a day off without breaking a sweat. After my pretend-sleep to escape the interrogation, Sir Grit dozed off. Golems love sleeping, especially the earth types.

  It was the perfect opportunity.

  Click. Bye, cuffs. Hello freedom.

  I scooted over to the door of the carriage and managed to open the door but recall how I said I was kidnapped? Looks like luck is a loyal cow and decided to return.

  Three men in green capes were busily rifling the luggage for loot when one of them happened to make eye-contact. My escape ruined. Why choose this carriages of all? What are they, brain-dead?

  Having some random thief grab you by the mouth and launch off isn’t really something I had experienced before.

  If I were a normal girly type female the whole of Rockville Southern would hear my soprano scream, however, I didn’t. And next thing, I am being carried like a sack of potatoes by the bandits.

  Why did I not bother saving myself? Simple. I vouch for a bunch of nobody bandits than the Judicators. Thus begins the half-assed jail break.

  Rockville Southern has a town surrounded by a fluctuating diminutive heighten mountains. With overgrown flora from their cracks, giving its complex erection the name; Mount Greenock aka Greenock.

  I could easily tell from my kinappers navigating skills that these bandits spent a long span of their life in this labyrinth forest. Though it doesn’t change the fact that jumping from one tree to the other is a scary experience for a human being handled by a lean individual.

  I repeatedly chanted; “please do not drop me. please do not drop me. please do not drop me.” Until they reached their destination. I reasoned it was in the heart of Greenock.

  Their lair, surprisingly, is a twenty-meter or so mountain peak. The area around was flooded with silky grass dividing the forest trees from the lair. It seems like a rather strange natural formation.

  While I hung upside down I managed to check the time. The sun newly reached the equidistant of the sky. And I realized.

  I missed breakfast.

  Three more caped individuals joined my kidnappers, forming a group of six. They tied me up to a wooden bark in-between the peak and maze. Then went ahead to babbler with each other about how unsuccessful their loots were; a sack of red juicy apples, six silver coins, four copper coins, a pet (excuse me?!) and Sir Grits badge. Which either implies that Sir Grit is either dirt poor or these thieves suck at stealing.

  Either way, I am grateful to these bandits for saving me but I can’t stay over for tea. My injuries need disinfection. Two days no sleep. Three days no food. Four days not a bathe.

  Luckily five of the thieves peaced out, leaving the leader behind, perhaps making sure they weren’t followed. They did realize Sir Grits travel were part of the Judicators.

  I wish I could just tell my bodyguard; “Hey, I don’t need protection join your friends, you are the leader. Be there for them.” But humans aren’t psychic.

  I have a dirty-ass sock in my mouth.

  But I am not stressed. Not a bit.

  There are two flaws to tying up a human. Firstly, we are extremely smart unlike were-beasts who struggle around their animal halves.

  I pulled myself forward and snapped a wood shard from the hundred years bark. Ugh. There were so many nasty bugs in there.

  After breaking up random barks I managed to get a good fragment and then used it gash away the low quality rope. Ow, ow. I’m definitely getting blisters.

  The second flaw?

  Never leave them unattended or else they’ll sneak away before you know it.

  Well, that was the plan. After five minutes of cutting away I was about to slip from the bandit when I noticed the red apples sparkle under a ray of sunlight.

  Guess we have to replace the second flaw with a third; humans stomachs overpower their brains.

  I grabbed a few apples and their medical pouch. Then slowly I crab-crawled out like a cowardly ninja, leaving the leader joyfully hum away with his flowers.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  When I was a good distance from their lair, I snuggled between two huge mossy rocks and tended to my wounds. They didn’t have much bandages or antiseptic so I only bandaged my elbows and knees. The rest will have to wait.

  After scanning my surrounding; birds peacefully chirping, glisten sunrays passing through the tree leaves, gentle breezes passing about the many plant stems. Clear skies. Safe. Exhausted. I took the opportunity to chow on the big red juicy, yummy, lovely, tasty apples.

  And I ended up choking on a large piece.

  Luckily I noticed a small stream ahead and rushed drinking.

  And I ended up choking on a large gulp.

  Before me was Sir Grit and his men tying up the bandits. Right here, right where I finally found solace. Sneaking away is my specialty but I felt a sharp object touch my nape, and behind was none other than the sixth bandit. The flower-humping tree-hugger found me.

  Talk about destiny. I didn’t want to see the bandits or the judicators but now I am stuck between the both; literally.

  I couldn’t see his face with the mask on but his sharp crystalline blue eyes saw his fellow comrades in jeopardy. He was about to run in head on despite the odds. I quickly snatched both feet and he slammed with great force against the dirt, if not for the bushes between us and the judicators, both I and this sensitive bandit would have been caught.

  Sir Grit stared straight at us. For a minute. Sneezed. Walked away.

  Cool. Real subtle.

  “That was a close call.” I exhaled still not letting go of his feet. Then through gritted teeth I pin his struggling ass to the floor. “Are you stupid? You can’t win like this. Stop wriggling like a dirt worm!” I hiss.

  Why won’t he stay still? I can’t let him run head on or else my location will be exposed, too. And if I do let him go then make a run for I won’t make it, golems are close relatives of Erts — tree cousins. Grumpy as hell, strong as stone. And so can easily get help from nature.

  Also it’s futile to run around a maze, when the bandits kidnapped me I spilled a trail with my bottle of sauce (the day my hut went ‘Boom’ I was adding it to my supper), if I lose my tasty track I won’t be able to get out of Greenock. I dragged the bandit to my checkpoint-the two boulders-and kept watch in case those judicators decided to throw a surprise party.

  “Golems don’t have a keen sense of smell or hearing so we’ll be fine here.” I let out a long groan still glued to the bandit. I have no choice but to choose a side.

  I either have to pretend being a victim of these kidnappers and earn the kingdom of Thrae’s praise as a survivor of evil. As a result have my cover blown and executed-nope, I like my head where it is.

  Or I could help these lowly thugs escape and maybe they’ll even help me find a new home or at least give me a few more apples. Yeah, I like this better.

  “Hey, do you have a plan?” I whispered to him, he pulled out his dagger acting all cool.

  “Idiot.”

  I scanned the group holding his friends. Three surrounded them and the rest were searching around for anymore allies. There are a total of …-one opening?!

  Sigh, it’s a very risky one.

  I knew the underlings were weak but not Sir Grit, he gives off a totally different aura. Even this brainless dummy thinks so, too. He is staring at him with caution. Guess it’s the ol’ game of tag strategy.

  I can’t run fast at the state I am in so this task is for mister bandit here. I handed him the badge I stole in case I run into Sir Grit. At first he just stared at me but then he understood the message and sneaked off.

  “There is another!”

  Sir Grit turned all his focus towards him. The bandit waved the badge and ran off. Now it’s the perfect time for half the judicators to chase him and then I will be able to sneak and free his allies. Or not.

  Instead, I will sit like a good girl and witness Sir Grit use his gen.

  Sir Grits eyes glowed as he touched the tree to his right. The unreal occurred. Roots sputtered out of the ground, it was unbelievable to see it swing around and instantly rush towards the bandit. The roots grabbed hold of him, within two seconds he was tied up with his friends.

  Talk about failing before anything began. However, it does give me the perfect opportunity to flee.

  I turned around to sneak away but I must say; why am I such a retard?

  Who saves scumbags from other scumbags? Bigger scumbags. Aka me.

  Nah. It’s cause my human-senses are tingling. Or should I say female hormones. I guess it’s time to use my superpowers. the problem is that my gen is distinctive, I can’t use it freely like the other races.

  Time to use my other superpower. Improvise.

  I rushed back to the base and grabbed the spade the bandit was using for his flower garden, the rope I tore and one of their spare green capes. Then rushed back.

  There are two things I could do. Firstly, help free the bandits from their ropes and they could leap out of here or secondly, I could just run for my own life.

  The former is me second-guessing myself. And it sure sounds better. But my conscious will come back for dear ol’ payback.

  “Art there more allies?” Sir Grim asked the bandits. Neither responded, they all stubbornly looked away.

  He pulled his long staff towards the leader, “Thou shalt atone for thou sins at thrae...” While he was pointlessly communicating with his captives I slipped down the concave ground from his earlier attack. The plants were pushed back and there were only soil all over the hollow so I piled the rope and set it on fire. Setting aflame the forest does mean Sir Grit will abandon both me and the bandits. (Evil villainous laughter)

  Then again, I am a merciful entity so I made sure the flames stay within the earth region to not harm the millennia foliage.

  Stage one was complete. All I had to do was wait until Sir Grit and his men take the bait.

  Instead of nervously running around trying to turn off the flames, the knights calmly filled up their huge rocky hands with water from the stream I drank water from and splashed it on my pity flames. Each hand grasped around half a bucket of water, they weren’t kidding about golems having a calm and patient attribute. They barely budged, talk about lame.

  But it didn’t matter, my mission was complete. The bandits had been freed. I just needed to distance them for a while.

  But it did matter.

  There wasn’t enough time for me to run off and none of the bandits carried me like a sack of potatoes again.

  I suffered the longest three seconds of my life as Sir Grit slowly turned his face towards the captives or rather just me and the freed ropes. I had the green cape on for camouflage but what is the point if I will be left behind?

  Note to self; keep your goddamn sense of ‘intuition’ to myself.

  “Nay! The captives fled! Thy failed again!” Sir Grit was stunned that his rocky tremble was heard from a mile, he stared at the empty forest; neither the bandits nor I was there.

  In the last second, the dumb leader rescued me. If he didn’t I was going to make him my hundredth and first antithesis victim.

  We held our breaths on a tree branch as the judicators chased after his comrades, of course it would only be futile. They may control the Erts but these bandits know the forest like the palm of their hands and can leap around like monkeys as fast as cheetahs.

  Thus I survived yet another dilemma. But I don’t like the idea of cuddling with a stranger on a branch—and once we hit safe ground, I made sure his nose kissed dirt. Twice.