Rasp had forgotten how bright the sun was. He slogged through the ankle-deep snow with his hood pulled over his face. Unfortunately, the hood could only do so much. Brilliant white light filtered down from between the dark, scraggly trees, bounced off the crisp white snow, and stabbed straight into his eye sockets. The rest of the traveling party suffered similarly from the huffs and groans around him.

  Skull-splitting headaches be damned, Faris continued to drive the weary party deeper into the patchy forest at a swift walk. The faun’s hushed conversation carried from the front. “You’re seeing this, right? It’s not just me?”

  June, being equally familiar with the territory, was at Faris’s side. Together, the pair had spent the last two days marching the party uphill, and then down, through endless stretches of dark trees and over trickling streams half-coated in ice, until everyone’s feet had gone numb from the cold.

  “I’m seeing it,” June grumbled in agreement. Whereas Faris knew the lay of the land, June was the expert at traveling in and out of Lonebrook unnoticed. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her normally cheery tone. “There should be a lookout point just over yonder.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go.”

  “Faris, no,” June said. “We need to rest.”

  “We can rest when we get to the lookout point. It’s not that far.”

  June conceded the argument with a heavy sigh.

  “I know you’re all tired,” Faris’s hushed voice called back to the others. “But we’re almost there, I promise. It’s just a little further.”

  “That’s the hundredth time he’s said that today,” Rasp muttered under his breath. That wasn’t even counting all the times Faris had claimed as much since being delivered topside. It wasn’t that Rasp minded being reminded that home was near. It was just that hearing it over and over again without fruition was beginning to dampen his hopes.

  With Faris and June at the front, Hop trailing somewhere near the middle, it was Whisper’s turn for escort duty. The fae lagged at the back alongside Rasp, wearing one of their many mortal disguises, all while kicking up clouds of powdery snow as they walked.

  The blurry outline of Whisper’s head lifted, followed by the sharp inhale of breath through their nose.

  Rasp waited patiently, nearly a full five seconds in total, before pressing Whisper for an explanation. He gave the fae’s arm a shake. “What?”

  Whisper’s voice was riddled with suspicion. “I smell smoke.”

  Dear gods, was it true then? Were they actually near civilization?

  Rasp stopped and tested the air. He smelled fresh snow, the sharp scent of fir needles, the pungent stink of his own musty clothes, and, buried deep, deep, beneath it all, a faint trace of smoke wafting on the breeze. It wasn’t the pleasant, homey aroma of a wood-burning fire, however. The smell was different. More complex. And not in a good way, either.

  Rasp inhaled again, attempting to dissect the smell through memory, but he kept hitting a dead end. “Why’s it smell…funny?”

  “There’s something else besides the smoke.” Whisper ignored Rasp’s question, not because they felt it was unworthy of an answer, but because they had yet to arrive at the answer themself. “But the smell is out of place. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “This way, come on!” Faris called over his shoulder at them, his voice marked with the unbridled fever of hope. “This hill overlooks the village. We’ll be able to see everything from the top.”

  “Faun, wait!” Whisper pulled Rasp into a trot. “Use your damn nose. Something’s not right.”

  Whisper’s warning fell upon deaf ears. The others were too far ahead to hear. The trio was now nothing more than tiny pinpricks of shadow against a hazy white backdrop, steadily moving up what had to be the hill Faris spoke of.

  “Come on, boy, move those legs,” Whisper urged Rasp as the pair started uphill. The snow wasn’t deep, barely ankle-high, but its slippery surface hindered the climb all the same.

  Rasp’s ability to travel and talk simultaneously was equally hampered. He tried anyway, managing to grit out, “We’re about to stumble right into a trap, aren’t we?”

  “The very idea of returning to Lonebrook was a trap from the start. I told you as much, many times,” Whisper replied harshly. “What I hadn’t counted on was arriving too late. That smoke isn’t the kind that warms houses. What you’re smelling is the burning of houses.”

  Panic lanced up Rasp’s spine. “Of?”

  “We may be too late, little bird. Geralt’s trap has already been sprung.”

  “Fuck!” Squinting, Rasp could barely make out the position of the others up ahead. Their blurry forms had not yet reached the peak. He feared what would happen once they did. The promise of returning home to free his people was the only thing that’d kept Faris going for months now. What would happen when he realized it was all for nothing?

  Rasp released Whisper’s arm and pulled ahead. Although his legs protested every aching step of the way, a lifetime spent scaling the slippery slopes of a perpetually snow-capped ridge meant he could scale an incline with the speed of a mountain goat when he felt like it. Normally, he didn’t feel like it, content to take his time, but this was different. This may very well have been a matter of life and death,

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  He sprang forward, bounding through the wet slush with fresh determination coursing through his veins. His thoughts raced nearly as quickly. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Fire didn’t necessarily mean it was over. Maybe the fighting had just begun. Maybe they’d get lucky and the five of them could sweep in at the last moment and save the day. That’s what heroes did, right?

  Croak! Father’s solemn screech hailed from above. The old man had returned from his flyover, bearing grim news.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Rasp cursed as he climbed faster. The worn tread of his boots slipped and slid uselessly beneath him, desperate for traction as Rasp propelled himself forward. He passed Hop on the way, and then June, finally reaching the top of the hill mere paces behind Faris.

  It was too late.

  An agonized wail escaped Faris’s throat. His blurry form sank to the ground just as Rasp’s frantic steps slowed to a stop beside him.

  Rasp’s eyes searched the valley below to no avail. He couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he was seeing. But it didn’t matter. His nose, the stench of burning homes, and Father’s message, together, told him everything he needed to know. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the biting chill as the wet snow infiltrated his ratty clothes, and threw his arms around his friend.

  “It’s gone,” Faris sobbed. “The whole village.”

  ‘Burnt to the ground,’ had been Father’s somber words.

  “My home, my people, my family. It’s gone, Rasp.”

  Rasp didn’t know what to do other than hold Faris tighter. Sadness steadily crept up his throat from the inside, tightening his airways until, even if Rasp knew what to say, it would’ve been impossible to get out. It wasn’t enough. Overcome with grief, Faris tried to shrug him off and struggle to his feet. Rasp grasped the faun tighter and kept them both anchored to the ground. Desperate people did desperate things when they had nothing left. Unable to offer comfort, the only thing Rasp could think to do was to keep Faris from joining his family.

  It was probably selfish, but Rasp had already lost too many. He couldn’t lose Faris, either.

  “Let go!” Faris snarled, still struggling.

  “Why?” Rasp cinching his arms tighter. “So you can go join them, Dingle? What’s that going to accomplish, huh? You think that’s what your mum would have wanted for you? Or your dad?”

  “It doesn’t matter what they wanted because they’re dead!”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Look around you, Rasp! There is nothing left! They’re gone.” Faris managed to wrangle his powerful legs beneath him and started to lift. “We arrived too mucking late!”

  Rasp decided against pointing out the fact that, for him, looking around would be about as useful as trying to light a match underwater. “June? Hop?” Rasp desperately called for backup. “Feel free to lend a hand any moment now!”

  A large, blurry shape came bounding up the hill, whipping a cloud of snow particles into the frosty air. Rasp barely had time to realize it was a bear before it pounced over the top of them. With both Faris and Rasp trapped beneath her, June lay down, content to keep the fighting pair in place through the use of muscle mass alone. Rasp sank deeper into the miserable snow, driven by the crushing weight of June’s bear form.

  While June’s method of lending a hand was undeniably effective, it wasn’t quite what Rasp had in mind. “Get off!” He managed to scream around the warm fur and bulk that was slowly pushing the air from his lungs.

  Faris echoed Rasp’s sentiments, along with a heaping slew of cruel insults.

  June’s throaty rumble vibrated throughout her body, prompting Rasp to cease his futile struggle. “For real?”

  “Get the muck off me!” Faris, incapable of deciphering June’s warning, continued to thrash.

  “Quiet, Dingle,” Rasp hissed. “June says we’re not alone. There’s something in the trees nearby. Shouting is going to give our position away.”

  Not that it hadn’t already, given the ruckus he and Faris had kicked up only seconds before. But there wasn’t any sense in making more noise than necessary.

  “How do I know you’re not just saying that?” Despite his distrust, Faris went still all the same.

  June’s mass shifted above them. Rasp felt her shaggy chest expand as the bear lifted her nose and pulled air deep into her lungs. She repeated the process several times before coming to a disappointing conclusion. She relayed her message in the form of a low-pitched whine.

  “More good news,” Rasp translated. “Apparently we’re surrounded.”

  “By whom?” Faris demanded.

  A sharp trill lit the air overhead, too sharp to be a bird.

  Rasp winced at the sound, but carried on whispering. “She says the scent is not one she’s come across before. Says it smells like a…” Rasp double-checked the description with June before finishing his statement. “A moldy horse?”

  A second and third ear-piercing trill replied to the first from different positions. The sounds were irritatingly familiar, like a hazy dream, but for the life of him Rasp couldn’t remember why.

  Faris seemed to think so as well. He remained still, deep in thought, until the answer came to him. “That’s a pipe.”

  Rasp desperately wanted to plug his ears with both hands, but they were still trapped against his body thanks to June. He rolled his head back with a groan. “That certainly explains the headache.”

  Faris started to struggle again. The desperation in his voice had been replaced with the slightest hint of hope. “Use your brain, Rasp! Who uses pipes, huh? Who rides moldy smelling horses?”

  The lack of air, alas, was getting to him. “You know I hate riddles.”

  “Goblins!” Faris beat against June’s underbelly. “Let us up already. We need to talk to them.”

  Reluctantly, June complied. Her heavy body lifted, allowing Rasp and Faris to scuttle out from under her. Free from the bear, Rasp whipped his head about, attempting to take in his surroundings the best he could. Hop’s shadowy form stood on high alert nearby, further proof that they were indeed surrounded. Rasp had no doubt Hop would have already made a break for the trees otherwise. Whisper, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. The wily fae was the only one of them with the sense to get out in time.

  Rasp pulled up onto his knees, grimacing as the cold seeped through his clothes and burned against his skin. A second visual sweep confirmed the results of the first. The goblins had yet to reveal themselves, seemingly content to hide behind the trees. Given the fact that his side had a giant magical bear, he couldn’t fault their reluctance to reveal themselves.

  At least they weren’t slinging arrows.

  Yet.

  “Hello?” Faris called out. “We don’t mean any harm. We just want information about the village.”

  The surrounding forest was eerily still.

  “Please,” Faris begged. “I need to know what happened to my family.”

  Finally, a hazy shadow broke from the patchy line of trees. A small, shaggy horse, Rasp realized, as the rotund beast clomped closer. Its rider rose in the saddle and offered a disapproving click of his tongue. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged out of the bag.”