The Prince and the Serpent

The Hunter

Boruto didn't know what Sarada said to ChoCho but whatever it was, it worked. Boruto and Mitsuki met Choji in the morning. ChoCho was standing next to her father, silent and distant. The Grand Merchant formally presented them with enough food and water to last them weeks as well as a generous offer to travel with his caravan to the capitol. As grateful as Boruto was for the offer, he was only too happy to decline.

They couldn't accept even if he wanted to. The capitol was to the southeast. Their map clearly showed that the final key lay far to the north, deep within the Range of Fire. They would have to turn north now if they wanted to reach the range in under a week.

ChoCho behaved herself. She seemed to have finally gotten the hint that Mitsuki belonged to him but he was still eager to say goodbye. He couldn't set eyes on her without seeing her polluting hands on Mitsuki. Fortunately, they needed to say goodbye quickly or else the illusion spell was going to wear off at a very inopportune time. Despite their best efforts, they cut it very fine.

Upon hearing that they would be departing for the Range of Fire, Choji insisted on gifting them with horses as well. Boruto expressed his deepest gratitude as politely and profusely as time allowed, which wasn't much. As they rode away, he watched Sarada's hair lengthen, Mitsuki's scales re-materialize and his own hair lighten as it was tossed by the wind.

"That was too close!" He yelled angrily at Sarada as he quickly pulled the hood of his new cloak over his head. They were still within sight of the caravan and he didn't want to take any chances. "We would have left in plenty of time if you hadn't spent so much time talking to ChoCho." Sarada huffed at him as she covered her own head.

"We made it, didn't we?!"

"Barley." Boruto interjected but Sarada ignored him.

"Besides, ChoCho's really nice." She retorted.

"Yeah, too nice." Boruto said darkly as unwanted images of ChoCho clinging to Mitsuki flashed through his mind once again. They made him grip his reigns until his knuckles turned white. Mitsuki must have noticed because he stretched a hand over and rubbed his fingers soothingly. Boruto smiled back at his fiance. At least it was all over now.

They had a long way to go. The land to the north was desolate and mostly abandoned until the city of Laharas. It was said that the city sat on a ridge near the most active volcanoes in the Range of Fire. It was where the kingdom's finest blacksmiths were made. On foot, the city was at least ten days away; a week to reach the range itself and another three days to traverse the tricky living mountains to the gates of Laharas.

Boruto decided he was very grateful for the horses. With them, the journey was much easier and they were able to cover much more ground each day. Once again, he found himself enjoying their journey. The weather was bright with the warmth of approaching summer. Despite their almost constant travel, the days felt lazy with warm afternoons drenched in golden sunshine. The grasslands were lonely despite the exposure so Boruto dared to relax.

Four days passed without incident and they were at last nearing the Range of Fire. The horizon to the north was turning a hazy brown. The constant volcanic activity turned the sky over the range a deep red even on the clearest of days. On the fifth day, they arrived at the road to Laharas and they rested in the shadow of the black hills.

Boruto was starting to feel apprehensive again. It was harder to forget his cares when they sat in the formidable shadow of the volcanoes. The terrain they were about to enter was challenging on the best of days. Since the volcanoes erupted regularly, the road to the city was constantly changing. With effort, he pushed the dark feelings aside and focused on enjoying the afternoon beside Mitsuki. Too soon, it was time to press on again.