“What’s our plan here?” Ren asked while running backwards.

  Meen-Tra spared a glance in his direction, annoyed at how easy he made it look. She thought about snaking a leg out, sending him sprawling, just to wipe that stupid grin off his face… “Our plan is – get to our friends before the bog eats them alive – I don't have any idea what these giants are.”

  “That's not much of a plan.” Ren pinched his chin between two fingers.

  Meen-Tra had more improper thoughts – yet she managed to restrain herself.

  Ren squinted, looking to the side over Meen-Tra’s shoulder, “Yoo, my eyesight is sick! I’m almost positive I couldn’t see this far before.

  Ren looked in the other direction, swung his head back around, paused on Meen-Tra – before jerking his head back. “Whoa, that's too close.

  He rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times, as he looked at her, “That’s better – I’ve got like a zoom function – chill.

  He looked over her shoulder again, deep in thought, “Just how big is…never mind – it looks like these things are just really big shamblers?”

  Meen-Tra picked up her pace, “That's impossible – I mean, they would need massive monster cores to sustain them – where did they come from?”

  Ren pulled a core from his spatial storage, closing one eye, while squinting with the other – as he slowly rotated the dull silver sphere. “So why can’t these ultra shamblers have massive cores? Is there a law against it or…”

  Meen-Tra picked up the pace again, pretending not to notice the way he continued to match her, while running backwards and playing the part of an amateur crafter. “There have been no reports of creatures this big – soo, they must be new – because monster cores take time to develop.

  Meen-Tra finished, proud of her deductive abilities, while simultaneously annoyed with Garzha for training her to think like this – which further annoyed her since it was coming in handy. Meen-Tra interrupted her thoughts, and her eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that core from?”

  Ren was delicately holding the core with both hands, his fingertips pressing into the orb, as he slowly spun it around – while pulling his head back and forth, still squinting with one eye. “From all the shamblers we wrecked, on the way to meet up with your moms.”

  Meen-Tra was pushing her pace, already at a dead run – and yet Ren was unfazed. Don’t trip him, don’t trip him, don’t trip him. “No, I meant where are you keeping those – I risked damaging a rare and valuable fabric – and you–you–”

  Ren transferred the monster core to one hand before snapping at the air with it, disappearing the core with a whisper, as his fist closed. He smiled as he showed his empty palm in a fan of fingers. “Pretty sweet, huh – it's my soulbound sandals, they’re–”

  Meen-Tra tripped over her own two feet, her arms pinwheeling, before she could tip forward. Ren placed a finger between her eyes as he slowed to match her pace. Her pinwheeling stopped as she slowed to a jog, the ground failing to come up and meet her in the face. Ren smiled, “Is there a reason you're going so fast?”

  Meen-Tra spluttered, and Ren cupped his ear, listening.

  “Yeah, us too – we have a visual on the big guys – uh huh – you don’t say, they went full on Voltron mode – fire, I mean this is bad but still – I know right.”

  Meen-Tra eyed Ren – she was not loving him – as the communications guy. And if she was being honest, it seemed like he was playing up his hand, saying things he knew would pique her interest, while not giving her any hint as to what was being said.

  Don’t trip him, don’t trip him, don’t trip him.

  Ren’s eyes slid to her feet, “Murkspire is not a great place to take refugees right now–” His face grew thoughtful as he looked down.

  Is he a mind reader? Why is he looking at me like I’m going to attack him?

  Ren moved his eyes up her lithe frame, pausing on her…before meeting her eyes – Meen-Tra’s eyes narrowed, and Ren gave her a lopsided grin, while moving out of her kicking reach. “Yeah, can you see us?

  Ren flipped around, looking in the direction of the two colossal shamblers, who appeared to be playing hopscotch. He squinted, zooming in his vision, something that still felt disorienting, like looking through binoculars while running. The problem was it would take him forever to search the horizon with this level of detail…

  Ren closed his eyes while maintaining his perfect form and balance – if Meen-Tra saw him performing the stunt…he was lucky she was behind him.

  Ren searched for the tug on his awareness, which he knew to be DG – right now, it was only a vague sense – like how he used to know which direction west was, at any given moment.

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  There, found you. Something clicked. DG was a phantom limb, one he’d been ignoring, because well – of course he was, out of sight out of mind?

  He knew precisely where his…spirit beast was. Ren didn’t like the term, DG4 wasn’t a beast, and wasn’t his – you couldn’t own someone? But if he were married, he might call his wife – his woman? Right?

  Ren was getting way off track. He shook his head. He looked at where DG was, the same way he would look at his foot if it were hidden beneath a blanket. He knew where the flyer was, even if he couldn’t see it.

  He zoomed in on his vision, BINGO. He moved his eyes down, ever so slightly. There was the train – two orcs at the head of the column.

  Ren shook his head, “I see you guys keep heading in this direction – I’m gonna catch up.”

  Meen-Tra was at his hip, before he could even think about flipping around to face her, “What did they say? You can see them – are you leaving me?”

  “Can you keep up?” He ignored the rest of her questions.

  Meen-Tra didn’t know the answer, “Just go – [Enduring Stitch], I’ll catch up – how far are they?”

  “Umm – I have no idea?” Ren replied. His hand went to his ear. “One hundred twelve point five three five – umm, that seems a little specific, and also side note – how can I see that far, shouldn’t the curvature of the Earth…” Ren looked to Meen-Tra, who seemed focused on the way ahead.

  “You’re a what? Never mind, and obviously this isn’t Earth, so – never mind. You’re a hundred-ish miles away – I’m gonna have to turn on the jets.”

  Ren turned to Meen-Tra, their eyes locked, and she nodded – her jaw set. He looked to his friends, cleared his mind, and put every ounce of his being into his body.

  Ren’s speed picked up; running on air was significantly easier – one need not worry about uneven ground, rolling one's ankle, or tripping over whatever.

  The rhythm felt easy, as his shoulders swayed with the swinging of his arms and hips – everything worked in equal and opposite synchronicity.

  His muscles did not strain. He carried the beat. The quicker his feet struck the air, the more flex he applied to his legs, and the longer his stride became.

  Ren accelerated without end. It was slow. As soon as he felt comfortable, he pushed himself just a little more.

  His concentration was absolute. He was running down a steep hill. Faster and faster. One mistake and he would fall, a tangle of elbows and ankles.

  He focused on his breathing, slow, steady, and deep. Ren imagined oxygen molecules, like little nurses with oxygen masks, a million million, microscopic cartoons, entering his bloodstream through his lungs – before traveling down a crimson waterslide, stopping off at each cell they could find, so that they might deliver oxygen.

  His cells, like an athlete on the bench – just waiting for the waterboy to bring them a hit of O2.

  Pat reclined on a La-Z-Boy, arms behind their head, feet crossed – and completely nude, not that as an extra terrestrial there was anything to see – they were smooth…everywhere.

  They bonced feet that were more like pudgy nubs than what most species would recognize as a foot. Again, all that suited Pat just fine; after all, they existed in a mental space.

  They were watching a view screen, like a flat screen TV hovering in the air. Soft green grass, like a golf course carpeted the space in all directions, and the lighting was perfect, though there wasn’t any source of it.

  Pat watched TV, except there was only one channel, DG4. It showed all things DG4, and at the moment, they were focused on Ren.

  “What is he doing? Are his eyes closed – no, they’re just barely open, he looks…tranquil?” Asked Pat, wishing they had some popcorn.

  DG4 shared Ren’s feelings with him. Peace, warmth, determination…a vast and empty–

  “Ok, that’s enough of that – I – wow. Interesting, so you’re aware of his…your bonded, got it.”

  Pat decided to put that line of thinking on hold. It wasn’t too difficult a concept to understand, after all, DG4 was sharing their feeling with them. So it was the same with these two.

  Pat watched as the notes streaming from Ren appeared farther and farther apart, his speed clearly picking up.

  He moved like a well-oiled machine, every body part in perfect harmony, and yet he pressed, picking up even more speed. Pat sat up in their seat, palms pressed into their armrests, as they leaned forward. “Is that – the air it’s, rippling around him like heat waves.”

  DG4 nodded in agreement. Which was a strange sensation for Pat, because there was no DG4. They could appear in this place – in their light ball form, thingy. But now they were driving the ship, so to speak. But what Pat got, what Pat knew, was, DG4 nodded in agreement. It was complicated, but Pat just rolled with it.

  “How fast is he going?” In response to their question, floating text appeared next to Ren’s head, with neat red block lettering displaying ‘65mph~’.

  “Ew, I love that font – I can really get used to this place.”

  “Hey, Nosh,” Mog sat comfortably atop their mount. Riding lizardback was actually quite comfortable, and between personal skills and custom saddles, the two [Apprentice Rangers] could keep this up for days on end.

  “Yeah, Mog.” Nosh was looking off into the distance, where dozens of colossal shamblers played havoc on the Tribal Plains, like children throwing their toys, whole structures and chunks of ground flew through the air.

  “What is that?” Mog was pointing at something headed straight for them.

  “A pink orc,” Nosh stated matter-of-factly.

  “Pink? It’s more of a – is it going to slow down? I’m not getting any danger sense – are you?” Mog shifted in their saddle.

  “No and no.” Said Nosh.

  Ren rapidly approached. The closer he got, the faster he appeared. His hair was wild, and the aether played tricks on the eye as he moved, a trail of strange symbols following in his wake.

  He wasn’t aimed directly at the train, but he veered off to the side.

  Ren lifted a hand, casually waving, a lopsided grin on his face, shouting as he blew by, “Yooo, I’m Ren–”

  That was all they got from his message, as he blew past them in the blink of an eye.