Finished constructing his blockade, Rasp stood and shook the sting of magic from his cold fingers. He turned and cocked his head to the side, causing a cascade of stringy hair to fall over his eyes as he listened. A familiar voice called to him from his freshly made hole. Rasp’s heart nearly launched itself into his throat as he edged cautiously forward, searching the snowy ground with his foot for trip hazards. The fear of falling face-first into an open pit did little to temper the winning smile that cracked across his filthy face.

  “Faris?” He repeated Novera’s desperate cry with a mocking shake of his head. “And they call me blind. Do I look like your bouncing baby boy to you, Novera? It’s me, Rasp. Your favorite child.”

  She sounded closer than before, but still down low. Calling to him from near the edge of the pit, probably. “Rasp, please. Faris would follow you to the gates of chaos and back. Which means if you’re here, then he must not be far behind. Where is he?”

  “Not even a thank-you.” The ground shifted beneath his foot, spilling forward. Rasp quickly drew back. He dared not venture any further for fear of falling over the edge on top of Faris’s mother. This was good enough, he supposed. She could hear him and, more importantly, was well out of striking range. Rasp crossed his arms and lifted his nose, pouting. “I just unburied you and, still, you’re already asking about Faris. It’s not right to favor your blood children over the adopted ones, you know. Especially not to their face. That’s just cruel.”

  “Raspberry Stoneclaw, so help me!” Trant bellowed from further away. “You’d better start coughing up answers, my boy. Else the moment I climb out of this pit, I’m going to march over and—”

  “Give me a great big pacifistic hug, right? Because that’s your thing, isn’t it? Peace, not war?” Rasp’s smile widened, revealing his front teeth. He was pleased to find that, even after months apart, his relationship with the Belfasts had picked right up where it had left off. “Still waiting on that thank-you. No rush.”

  Trant replied. Not with words but in the form of a hoof stomp, an ear flick, and a snort.

  The holy trifecta’s warning shot straight up Rasp’s spine. Reluctantly, his tone transitioned to something slightly more helpful. “Fine. If you must know, yes, Faris is on his way. You’ll have to give him a minute, though. He can’t help being slow.”

  It was as if the very act of being called slow had summoned the wee devil himself. Rasp heard Faris’s muffled hoof steps only seconds before a white blur burst from the thick swirl of ash and dust. Instead of slowing down and easing into the pit like a sensible person, Faris’s hazy shape leapt over the side and landed with a muffled thump somewhere below. Rasp imagined some awkward hugging followed next, given the way Faris and Novera’s soft, choking sobs and heartfelt utterances rose from the bottom of the pit.

  Gross. Rasp was happy to have been left all alone up top. So what if no one had offered to hug him? It wasn’t like he wanted it, anyway.

  Faris must have gotten all of the unsightly hugging and kissing out of the way in short order, because it wasn’t long before he started asking questions. “Father, what did they do to you?” Concern flooded the faun’s tone. “You can barely walk.”

  “I’m managing perfectly fine, thank you,” Trant said stiffly.

  “He’s not,” Novera disagreed. “Your father is going to have to be lifted out, I’m afraid. And I don’t think he’s going to make it easy for us.”

  “Now see here! I am perfectly capable of—”

  “I have an idea.” Faris’s voice rose from the pit louder than before with the sort of echo that indicated he was cupping his hands around his mouth for added amplification. “Rasp!”

  The volume wasn’t necessary, but Rasp was delighted to finally be included. He flexed his hands, already considering the fastest way to scramble down without breaking his legs. “Yes?”

  “Where’s Hop? Is he near you?”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Rasp’s shoulders dropped, along with any lingering hope of a big family hug. “Hop? Really? What do you need him for?”

  “I’m here, Faris.” Against all odds, the nervous giant parted with the tree he was hiding behind and joined Rasp along the edge of the pit. “Do you need something?”

  “Your help,” Faris said. “Down here, please.”

  Un-fucking-believable! Rasp had heard of cock-blocked, but never family-blocked. And by none other than, Hop—the only one of the bunch Rasp would've felt bad about shoving over the giant gaping hole in the ground.

  Hop carefully slid down. His tone wavered, like a nervous mother wringing her hands. “Please don’t ask me to do any more fighting.”

  “Hop, this Mum and Dad. Mum and Dad, Hop.” Faris sped through the introductions lightning fast before dicing right into orders. “Dad needs to be carried out. Can you manage that?”

  “Oh, thank gods, yes. Tell me you want me to carry him to safety, far, far away from here next, please.”

  Trant seemed less than enthused with the idea. “Absolutely not.”

  “We don’t have time, Father.”

  “Sorry, sir. I mean no offense by what I am about to do.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Trant let out an undignified squawk as he was undoubtedly swept into Hop’s arms and carried over to the side. Faris’s blurry form scrambled up onto the back beside Rasp. Between the combined efforts of Hop and Faris, they pulled the protesting Judge Belfast from the pit to safety.

  Faris wrangled his father next to Rasp. “Watch him while I help Mum.”

  “He says, to the blind man,” Rasp grumbled.

  Trant swayed unsteadily on his hooves. Fearing the old goat was going to lose his balance, Rasp linked arms with him, allowing Trant to lean against him for support. Neither of them mentioned it. “You smell worse than I remember,” Rasp remarked.

  “As do you,” Trant replied.

  “Like worse than death.” Rasp added, “Between you and me, I’m glad you’re not dead, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’ve dug enough holes for one day. Really wasn’t looking forward to another.” Rasp felt Trant’s arm grow less rigid against him. It was a good sign, especially given that it didn’t come with an accompanying knee to the groin. In true Rasp fashion, he proceeded to push further. “Plus, with you gone, I’d have to be the man of the house, and I don’t think anyone’s ready for that.”

  Trant laughed. It was a harsh, barking sort of sound that seemed to catch even him by surprise. Old Trant would have scrambled to recover his ‘wise-than-thou’ composure, but the faun leaning against Rasp for support was a bit different than before. He allowed himself to cherish the moment. “That’s the first I’ve laughed in months,” he admitted in a way that was almost sad. “Thank you, Rasp.”

  “It wasn’t even one of my better jokes. Have you heard the one about the debate on mastication?”

  “Thank you for saving us,” Trant clarified. “And for keeping my son safe. I had hoped Faris wouldn’t return, that he would be spared from this, but he is as stubborn as his father.”

  “Is this going somewhere? Feels like we’ve diverted here.” How they’d gone from thank-you to Faris is a stupid dumb-dumb was not the course Rasp had expected the conversation to go.

  “I am glad that no matter what he does, Faris has someone like you to depend on.”

  Oh gods. The flittery flutteries started in Rasp’s stomach stronger than he’d ever felt before. The feeling was tempered, slightly, the moment a third form came staggering out of the pit and stumbled into him, locking Rasp around the chest with their arms.

  “You have grown so much,” Novera said.

  “I think you shrank, actually.”

  “Emotionally.” She then added, for some unthinkably terrible reason, “And magically.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  As all jealous siblings are wont to do, Faris appeared, intent on disrupting the tender moment. “Alright, you two, say your goodbyes. Mum, Dad, go with Hop. He and Briony will take you somewhere safe.”

  “Goodbye, other parents. I’m off to war,” Rasp said, extracting himself from Novera’s arms. “Take care of Faris for me, if I don’t come back, alright?”

  “I’m certain if you aren’t coming back, then neither am I,” Faris replied.

  “Which is why you’re not coming, Dingle.”

  “But—”

  “Come on. We both know you’re not cut out for this. For the gods’ sake, Hop can wield a sword better than you can, and he spends most of his time on the battlefield hiding.” Rasp patted the side of Faris’s scruffy face. The faun’s skin was hot with what could only have been endearing, loving, tender rage. “You did what you set out to do, right? You saved your stupid family? I think now you should focus on staying with them. Enjoying the fruits of my hard-earned labor.”

  There was a thoughtful pause before Faris admitted that Rasp was right. “I’m going to kick your ass when you get back.”

  Rasp gave him another loving smack to the side of the face. “If I make it back, Dingle. If.”

  “Goodbye, Rasp,” Hop said, “For what’s it worth, I hope your return is a matter of when, not if.”

  “Thanks, Hopalong. You always know just what to say.”

  “I put far too much effort into those teeth to have it go to waste.” Farewells finished, Hop’s voice promptly changed directions. “Judge Belfast, once more, I apologize in advance for this.” Without further ado, the giant faun dipped down and scooped Trant into his arms and started off. Faris and Novera’s respective shapes followed, with the latter remarking something under her breath about Faris finally bringing someone home with manners. Faris, sputtering and stammering with shock, snapped back at his mother not to start.

  Rasp alone stood along the ledge with his arms at his sides and sadness churning in his gut. He wanted so badly to join them, to cast off his responsibilities and let someone else swoop in and win the battle, but Whisper and June wouldn’t be able to hold Cray’s forces off indefinitely. Their side, alas, needed every advantage they could get. Even the incompetent ones.

  “Hey, you, bucko!”

  Rasp startled from his internal stewing when a pebble bounced off his shoulder, causing him to nearly topple head over heels into the pit. He steadied his footing before searching the murky area below for the culprit. It was shocking, honestly, how quickly a friendly rock fight could lift his spirits. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so much the rocks themselves as it was the person throwing them.

  “Rali?” Rasp said, trying to find her amongst the shadows.

  “You gonna stand there pouting, or are you gonna be helpful?” the dwarf hollered back up at him. “I know you can’t see for shit, but there are others in need of assistance. Get your scrawny ass down here and help.”

  Between work and sulking, Rasp went with the obvious choice. “Pass.”

  “Hey, you wanna know a secret?” Rali’s voice lowered to a tantalizing whisper. “Your brother Mul’s down here. He told me not to say anything, but currently I like you better.”

  “Mul?” Rasp's gaze instinctively swept the dark pit, remembering too late that it wouldn’t do him any good. It all looked the same to him. Still, if Mul really was down there somewhere, it would be worth it to climb down and flush him out of hiding.

  “You’ve got beef with him, don’t you? Old rivalries in need of settling?”

  Rasp knew Rali enough to recognize that it was a trap, and yet, the irresistible urge to kick his older brother between the legs for old time’s sake was simply too strong to ignore. Rasp lowered himself over the edge of the pit and slid down the dirt side on the seat of his pants, wincing with each bump, until his feet struck solid ground. He stood, hands clenched and ready for a fight. “Oh, dear brother of mine, where art thou?”

  Rali was at Rasp’s side in a flash, tugging him along beside her. “I’ll point you in the right direction when you’re done helping, alright? Consider busting Mul’s teeth in as a reward for all your hard work. But first, you’ve got to help lift the big guy out of here.”

  “That is not what I signed up for.”

  “It’s a real shame that I don’t care. Now pick up the pace or I’ll start skipping again like old times.”

  Rasp hung his head in defeat. “I forgot how much I hate you.”