NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: The Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 1: The Job)

CHAPTER EIGHT: KESLA

Once the Hunter's Pass lies behind us, we're in true wilderness, beyond any influence of Hocknar or the Provisional Government or even the Terrors themselves. Out here in these harsh mountain climes, the only law is tooth and claw, ain't no mercy if you screw up. In a way it's kinda freeing really. Out here we can just be ourselves.

Yeslee's given up riding her horse entirely now, it's easier for her to scout ahead on foot. This is where she's truly at home, creeping through the brush, climbing trees and leaping from branch to branch, impossibly silent no matter what terrain she's navigating. She could be five feet away from me right now and I'd never know it, but I suspect she's a long way off now. She can move so fast for someone so big.

It's the middle of the day now, the sun's right over us now, and for maybe a couple of hours in the day we've actually got real direct light to work with thanks to the towering peaks so tall and steep all round us. This valley's deep, the trees don't get a whole lot of sun here, but they're tall enough all the same, furred evergreens crowding the path as we move through. In two more hours it'll almost be like twilight again down here. It's much quieter here too – there's animal life here, I'm sure of it, but it's a lot more stealthy than in the gentler lands we left behind. It's has to be. There's a whole lot of predators round here.

Rummaging in my pack, I pull out my bag of jerky, slip out a couple pieces and wrap the rest back up before putting them away again. I snap off a chunk with my teeth and start chewing, enjoying the rich, salty taste as I allow Ulrich to follow the only real path there is to take right now. 'Spite of our surroundings, and the situation in general, I feel weirdly safe right now. Like I can get away with letting my guard down for a little while.

I hear the rough clatter of scree under hooves as Gael urges their mare up beside me, and my destrier bucks up a little bit as they both draw close, raising his head and straightening a touch like he's trying to look even bigger than he already is, which is massive enough already. The mare's not in season or I think he could go completely crazy, disciplined warhorse or not, but he clearly finds her attractive all the same. Boys. They're all the same no matter what species they are.

For a few minutes we carry on like this in relative silence, Ulrich actually prancing a little bit now, and Gael's mare turns her head to look at him every once in a while, clearly checking him out too. Mutual attraction, it'd seem. I look across at Gael and they're smirking, clearly as amused by this whole development as I am. They're blushing too, though, a little embarrassment peeking through. Not that I'm surprised – Gael's always seemed lacking in real worldliness to me, and I've always suspected that goes double for dealing with things like romance and its ilk.

They've got their hood pushed back now, comfortable to be themselves out here like I am. Back in the lands of civilisation they tend to keep it up most of the time, but then half-elves are looked upon as something out the ordinary in most so-called polite societies, much like half-orcs. They don't really inhabit either world, neither a creature of short, vital life from the cities or farmlands, nor a truly near-immortal, almost inherently magical being not entirely of this world. Most of the time their shorter but still clearly pointed ears and more subtle but still visible otherworldliness simply mark them out as clearly different, but also lesser. I don't envy Gael the difficulties they must've had growing up as a half-elf in such an elite environment as the Silver Order's magical Academy in Bavat, even if my own childhood wasn't exactly a treat in its own right.

A lot of the time they put up walls around themselves far beyond the hood, adopting airs and graces that can come across as arrogant and superior if you ain't used to 'em, gotten to know the truly intelligent, vital person underneath the veneer. From what little I've been able to glean about their time in the Academy, this is how they grew up, learning to be like this as a kinda shield against bullying and prejudice from other students. I wonder if they had many friends among the student body. Maybe. There's outcasts everywhere in the world, probably banded together there too.