The Halfling

Chapter 4

The fire they made never reached a threshold of light or time, fearful of what they might awaken otherwise. They were near the Forest's heart now, they were sure. And many stories detailed incidents within those regions, concerning foul creatures and vengeful monsters—they did not want any part of that.

They tried peering through the canopies—but there was nothing to be seen save the slightly faint glint of the waxing moon. Night insects droned about, buzzing in a language they did not understand. Small creatures raced to the trunks and bushes, squeaking and squealing away like toys.

The smell of a roasted rabbit filled their noses. They nibbled, slowly, intently, savoringly. For most of their journey, they ate whatever hung on the boughs or fell on the ground—this was a great boon to their tongues.

"How are you feeling," Samuel asked. The girl had tripped a few moments ago, her ankle snatched by a wandering vine.

"Fine," Theresa said. "You two?"

Morris breathed a "Fine," finished his meat, then scurried off to find some more food; the boy merely nodded, bent his head, and nibbled at the small portion of rabbit meat.

His voice low, like something grating against gravel, he spoke. "It's almost autumn."

"Yes," the princess said. "And we're near now, very near." A pause. "I thought we'd have reached the place by now. We'll plan getting rid of the dragon then, I reasoned. But it seems like a fool's hopefulness."

The slime returned. He asked if they'd like a few of the berries he picked. They declined.

"I'm sorry," Theresa continued. Her eyes glowed in the firelight. "I'm sorry for dragging you in this mess."

The boy snickered. "We have a contract, princess. This isn't you dragging me into anything; this is me choosing to guard you from Pire, so that you can reclaim your kingdom." His brows quaked. "Well, perhaps a tad too optimistic. But you can rest assured that I came for the golds and the jewels."

"Mercenaries," Theresa said, putting away the rabbit meat. "Mercenaries never usually continue when faced with a danger as great as this. And, moreover, they're trained to risk their lives. But you? You're a young sorcerer learning the ropes, how to dance, how to breathe, how to sing. You've been living peacefully in Aman, unhurried, a life someone else might never have disturbed. I'm sorry someone like me had to come along and ruin it."

The princess' eyes were emeralds in the firelight. They shone, those refined jewels carved onto a marble statue, innocently.

"As if my previous life was worth living!" The boy turned his head, swiftly. He finished his food. "I told you, Theresa: it doesn't matter. I'm staying. I'm finishing what I've started."

"Is that what you want?"

The leaves swished. The boy's hands tightened around his staff. He whispered. "It is."

"Then—"

From the bushes, Morris jumped. The two sprang on their feet as well. The boy had readied his staff; the girl her dagger. And it was a great relief to know that the Southern bandits were not here to mince them.

"Hullo, there!" If he had a brow, the slime would have raised it in confusion, for his companions were much a-stir. "Dear princess, are you going to finish that?"

Theresa smiled; she gave the slime her share of the rabbit meat. Thanking her, he gorged on the meal.

Licking his lips with a sherry-red tongue, Morris looked at them. "That's only part of the reason I returned, however. We're very near the forest's heart, I fear, close to the Mountains of Thornwood. And that's always the worst place to be in. They always hide here—I mean those creatures, of course, awful ones in stories and folktales and legends. It'll do us wonders to be cautious. More cautious, I should say."