Marco woke up an hour before the sun. He only let himself sleep in after a successful hunt. But the wizard was right, so he didn’t allow himself that kindness today. He wasn’t there for the true hunt, and his whole crew got hurt. Without the teas the manticore would have taken them all. Taken more friends from Marco. For that mistake he was in the woods before sunlight.

  Marco knelt before a tree. A section of the trunk had been stripped of bark and turned into a window to the pale wood within. On the stripped canvas was carved an elks head with a lopsided pair of antlers. The right side was swirling with many points and branches, looking like a healthy proud tree. The left bore only five points with a gash deeper than all others serving as their mother stalk. They represented the career of a hunter who dedicated themselves to the ever hunted, to The Elk. The right antler hunts deemed successful.

  The left was failure.

  Marco kept rough tally in his mind despite his shrine. In the event he would need to leave Apie Fields and remake his alter on a new tree. His successes numbered somewhere in the mid-sixties, but the number of monsters slain was lost to Marco. He ran his fingers along the most resent groove. The one left after rescuing Sparky. He wasn’t of much help there either. Capreva knew of the roaches weaknesses and Yesenia acted on them. Yesenia even pulled him to safety.

  He was growing soft. Growing slower. Weaker.

  The fire had gone out. He used to feel anger when he set steel to those beasts. An anger so pure you could melt iron with it. That anger carried him through life. Made him freinds, filled his belly, protected him. Now he just felt afraid. Afraid of losing someone else. Someone he cared for.

  Caring came more and more easily to him as the years went on. The light in someone’s eyes, seeing the joy of a simple meal shared, even noticing the same anger that once fueled him in another, forcing him to care. Caring was so hard. So easy to mess up. Anger was simple and fun. But simplicity and fun were for younger men.

  Now he had to carve another failure.

  Maybe just a small one he thought, the manticore was slain after all. And of course, that shameful intrusive thought cemented a large failure to be carved. Branching from the central gash, he drew his knife slowly and deliberately. A sixth failure added to his list. A sixth shame to carry on his back.

  Returning the knife to his belt, the woodsman bowed his head. His prayers are as lost to me, and so lost to you. Only the hunter and the ever hunted are privy to what they discussed there. The hunter never knew how short his prayers needed to travel. He never even noticed his lord on the tree line.

  Just watching.

  After his ritual, the woodsman had no time for rest. He began his day by seeing what he could salvage from the Manticore. The cold air of night preserved the corpse well enough, though in its state you’d think it had rotted for days. All the woodsmen could get off it was a few clean teeth, its razor claws and the bulbous stinger. The sloshing liquid inside was stagnant, never letting known its virulent nature. Could be quite handy. He tied off a severed bit of tail and stowed the thing in his ruddy pack.

  He’d have to see if anyone could move the body off Miss Naros property. It’ll start attracting beasties soon enough. Maybe some of the boys around town to help. Pay them a bit of his share. While thinking this over, he trekked to the other side of town to split firewood for Miss Petunia. As mean as the old woman was she didn’t have anyone else and her Polvik wasn’t as good with an axe as a scythe. The spirit was kind enough though, their kind were one of the few that were. They shared a wave as Marco left the flower pastures.

  The sun had now crested the Andren Mountains and the town was stretching to life. Rybas boys were hauling out their tackle, betting on how large a fish they were gonna snag. Grot would be out looking for sticks and feathers about now. The sounds of hammer on steel and flash boiling water told all Krowa had gotten to work. Marco smiled. It was a rarity for him to even light the forge these days. But not quite the rarity as the woman he saw approaching him.

  “Mayor Wriggly.” Marco gave a nod and wave. “What’s got you payin a visit.”

  The mayor didn’t lack humor. She consumed it. Like a mirth sink hole. Her icy demeanor likely came from her father’s side. An elf. Before Yesenia, Mayor Selena Wriggly was the only representative of that long and storied people. And gods their stories were long. Something about living for centuries caused the elvish people to completely lose track of basic courtesy. When someone slaps their knees and lets out that fabled long “welp” you need to stop your prattle there. No further.

  It didn’t help that the Mayor was from Wilkgrad. A city so coarse and rough it could strip paint. Blunt and cold. Those were the words to describe the Mayor. Like an iceberg or a snowball with a rock in it. But she was quite the pretty snowball, almost made you forget the rock.

  “You have me paying a visit.” The mayor said.

  Marco chuckled. “Well, I apologize Miss. What did I do this time?”

  “No need. You have done nothing wrong, as I know of.” She crossed her arms behind her back. “I hear you have been quite busy? I wished to hear about the forest and such.”

  Marco raised his brow. “Well, I didn’t expect that. Thank you for the check up I app-“

  “Stop.” She raised a hand. “I have a lot on my plate and not much time to spare. I need a report not a conversation.”

  Marco clicked his tongue. “Right. Well, on the whole, not good. Forest has been getting a lot stranger lately. Wouldn’t be able to handle it without this new help I got.”

  “Stranger how.” The mayor retrieved a pocket watch from well, her pocket, and examined the time as Marco spoke.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  He leaned on his axe. “Monsters acting different. Acting crazed. They aint staying where they usually do. Not hunting how they always have.”

  “Well, I suppose you had better learn their new hunting patterns and territory before it becomes a problem. Now what about this new help?” She gazed around, some waved politely to their mayor but most averted their gaze.

  “We got… Two more folks in town. Just some people passing through and wanting to help.” Marco smile with too much teeth.

  Wriggly looked him through with half lidded eyes. “You hesitated? Why?”

  Marco laughed and waved it off. “I was addin Heracles in on the newbies. Sometimes I forget he been here quite a bit by now.”

  The mayor nodded. “Yes. He has been here for “Quite a bit now”. When do you suppose he will be leaving?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “When will he be leaving? I was under the impression he was on a pilgrimage?”

  “Well…” Marco shrugged. “I uh… I don’t rightly know. I could ask him for ya.”

  “I would like that. As much as I would like him to remain and assist in the slaying of monsters, it is causing strain on the Lord and Lady Zolt having a desert man in their territory. You understand.”

  Marco hid his clenched fist at his side. “I…Yes I understand, Miss Mayor. I’ll ask him soon as I can.”

  “Good. Now if you could aid me by giving this to Mr. Herbeta that would be appreciated.” She handed Marco a letter, wax sealed with the Zolt family crest. An Apple.

  “Sure. Anything important?”

  “I would not be here if it was not important. If you’re asking what its contents are however that would be against the law to divulge to you.” She turned on her heels and began to walk away. “Have a good rest of your day Mr. Embershire.”

  A hitch formed in Marcos throat. “Uh…Yeah. You too… Miss Mayor.”

  He shook off his annoyance and trudged his way into the Bulls Horn. He does a lot of trudging. Can’t pick his feet up to save his life. Anyways, the tavern was at it breakfast peak right about now. Filled near wall to wall with laughing jovial souls, eating smother biscuits and drinking mimosas. Today was mimosa Monday. It was Wednesday, but any day a shipment of oranges came into the general store turned into mimosa Monday eventually.

  Pushing past the merry mimosa mosh, Marco proceeded to Patty.

  “Well, hey there bud.” Patty said polishing a champagne flute. “What can I do ya for?”

  “I’m good Pat.” He slide the letter across the bar as he straddled a bar stool. Pattys eyes widened seeing the reginal crest. “Seems pretty important. Mayor came down herself to deliver it.”

  “Serena? Aint seen her in nearly two months…” He took the letter and peered over the crowd, with a sigh the letter vanished into his apron. “Have to wait till after the rush. Marcys dying out there.”

  Before Patty could aid his overwhelmed teen daughter, Marco caught his arm. “Wait Pat. Has Ivy come down yet? I aint had much time to check on her.”

  “She aint come down but she’s up. I had baby bug take some food up to her soon as he told me.” Patty saw a weight come off his friends shoulder and he pat Marcos hand. “She’ll be alright. Only thing tougher than that girl is that hulk she keeps in our stable.”

  “Yeah, You’re probably right Pat.”

  And with a hearty laugh Patty set off to help Marcy clean and wait on tables. Marcos eyes trailed with him as he walked, landing on the stairs. With a grunt and a grumble, the woodsman dragged his feet across the floor and up to their door. He heard a muffled conversation behind it. One portion of the conversation was beamed directly into Marcos brain, sans context.

  “Ah yeah, Memaw makes the best biscuits.”

  Muffled talking.

  “Never had tuna.”

  A gasp rang out followed by a condemnation of never having tuna. Marco made out the sing songy intonation of the lady Humble but also a masculine voice alongside hers. Too deep to be Yesenia or Capreva and too audible to be Heracles. With building anxiety Marco slowly opened the door.

  The tableau before him was mostly what he expected with the addition of one glaring surprise. Ivy and Yesenia both sat in their beds, having a classic breakfast in bed set up. Mimosas included. Heracles sat in the floor leaned up to the window between them, he sat eye level with Yesenia even while in the floor. Capreva was likewise in the floor but with their hands occupied. Occupied with what you may ask? Well of course, they were braiding the flowing blonde hair of the nude man in the floor.

  All eyes darted to Marco as if he was the piece out of place. Marco, like any of us, stared at the naked nord crisscross in the floor. And without taking his eyes off him spoke.

  “Who’s this?”

  Ivy smiled broadly. “Well good morning, friend! I hope you slept well after our rousing victory yesterday!”

  “Ivy, who is this.”

  “This is our new client!” Ivy cheered.

  “He’s a Selkie!” Capreva squealed with excitement.

  The nude one waved at Marco. “Sup.”

  “Ah. Someone uh… take your skin, huh bud?” Marco removed his cloak and dropped it into the selkies lap.

  “Yeah. Some crazy lady by the sea foam snagged it while I was catching some rays.” The once seal now man began using the cloak as a blanket.

  “Okay bud. How’s about you head downstairs and get yourself a mimosa. We’re just about to have a little pow wow up here.” The woodsman took on a very fatherly tone.

  “We are?” Heracles questioned.

  “Fantastic! A team meeting! Staging our next move, plotting out our goals. Perhaps a route of witty banter, ay my friends?” Ivy lightly jabbed an elbow in the bug and the wizards direction.

  Yesenia rubbed crust from their eyes as they swallowed. “This is why I need my ice wall…”

  “Alright, move it.” Marco took the selkie by his armpits and heaved him to his feet. “And stay covered up, memaws got a weak heart.”

  “Gosh dude fine. Aint gotta man handle me bro.” He tied the cloak around his waist as he marched out. “Bros got his tents in a twist.”

  Marco shut and locked the door. “My Tents?”

  “Tentacles.” Capreva chirped. “Squids are notoriously conservative.” They elaborated after a moment of silence.

  Ivy clapped loud to draw the rooms attention. “So! How shall we start off this meeting, crew!”

  Marco smiled at the energy. “I think I’ll take it Ivy.” He took seat at the end of Ivys bed and faced the whole group as best he could. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Capreva asked tilting their head.

  “Yeah Marco. For what?” Yesenia mimicked the bushes innocent tone.

  Heracles punched the bedframe and gave them a disapproving glare. Really just a stare. He isn’t too expressive, but the meaning stuck.

  “I’m sorry for how things went down yesterday. I’m sorry Ivy got hurt, I’m sorry Lily got hurt, and I’m sorry…” He raised his eyes to meet the wizards. “I wasn’t there. I shouldn’t have blown up about how you handled things. I can’t say whether or not I’d have made the same decisions but that ain’t for me to wonder. What happened happened, and I trust this team that they did it in the best way that they could.”

  Yesenia was silent. Just wide eyed staring at the woodsman.

  Ivy broke the tension by leaning forward and clapping Marco on the back hard, nearly toppling their breakfast platter. “Well would you look at that! And here I thought this party would never be seeing eye to eye! That was mighty big of you Marco, takes a big man it does indeed. But in truth no apology is necessary on my end. I and Lily know the risks and are willing to endure them!”

  Heracles clasped his hands in his lap and looked ready to say something.

  Yesenia saw and blurted out quickly. “Thank you, Marco. I… accept your apology. And…” They sighed. “ I won’t be going overboard like that again. I’m saving at least enough energy to make my wall every night.”

  Marco nodded and smiled warmly at the wizard. “Well, that puts me at ease. And sides, I haven’t heard any chatter round about the flare. Seems like no one saw, so secrets still locked down.”

  “Ah, about that.” The wizard began.

  “Yeah dude like, straight up kicked me out. He got major stress.” The once seal now man sipped at the refreshing mimosa.

  “He might be high strung but ole Marcos got a good heart son.” Patty poured into the top glass of a mimosa pyramid, the overflow cascading down to the lower glasses. “I’m sure he’s up there plannin how to get your skin back right this second.”

  An exclamation shook the bar. A full throated “WHAT!?!” rattled the glass of the pyramid threatening to send it over the floor. Staff and patrons alike, save for those currently co-mimosa-tose, looked to the ceiling where the roar had originated. Marcy dropped a tray of drinks and food onto the nearest table and rushed upstairs. Patty sighed moving to retrieve the tray.

  As Marcy scurried for the room, she saw Sparky already waiting by the door. Pawing anxiously and meowing as he saw his person. She scooped the kitty and jiggled the knob to no avail. Doubtful any inside heard the timid jingle over their own voices.

  “Everyone knows!?! What did you do?! Did you tell someone!?” Marcos’s rage was as fierce as a bears.

  “Do you think I’m a rat brained idiot?! Of course I didn’t tell anyone, they just figured it out!” Marcy had never heard Yesenias voice over a near whisper before, it was disconcerting.

  “Everyone please calm down. Is it actually that big a deal?” Heracles of course came through crystal clear.

  “By the elk!” Marco cried out.

  “I’m afraid it is, friend Heracles.” Ivy took on a soothing tone with an edge of anxiety. “If the Zolts were to hear of this they could send word to the Paladins of the Bear.”

  Yesenia laughed. “Oh really? Well, something tells me these people are a bit tighter lipped than that.”

  “How would you even know that!?!” Marco roared.

  Marcy knocked firmly on the door.