I fell asleep. I'm not too proud to say.

  I just weren't cut out for listenin' and learnin'. Mama always said I was the smart kind of dumb. Put a knife and a bit of rope in my hand and I'd have a bridge built by morning. Show me a book, or a complex diagram and I'd lose myself in my thoughts, or plain fall asleep.

  Had to act, had to feel to get anything done.

  Shorty did not like this.

  "Hey, you're drooling on my notes! I invite you into my workshop and you've done nothing but snore and bleed on my work."

  "Sorry..." I mumbled as I woke, rubbing at my rapidly healing face, "You done with my gun?"

  She glared, yellow eyes fixed, ruby lips pressed hard and tight, "No! Like I said earlier, I can't do anything more than a mechanical repair. Someone sealed this scattergun with magic. And not the kind easily bypassed. I know you said you got around the lock on the case it was in, but this is a whole other beast. Whoever enchanted this didn't want just anyone using it."

  "Shit," I spat, "So... This whole time it wasn't actually doing much?"

  "Well, no, it was. It can still draw a portion of your lifeforce to accelerate the ballistic load, but all the other features? The illusory sight, slug compression and conversion, the self cleaning- all of that has been locked by a very serious practitioner of the magical sciences. For the time being, this is a just a fancy shotgun. Not the arcane weapon of war that it should be."

  I sighed, "Damn. Welp, you know what they say," I said and plucked a smoke from my coat and lit it.

  Silence, broken only by the sound of a heavy draw, and then someone else's sight.

  "No. I don't," she said with an impatient sneer, "what do they say? What folksy wisdom do you have for us, oh great and mighty gunslinger."

  I ignored the sarcasm and tried to put on my best smug expression, "You can't always get what you want..." I snapped the breech shut with a click, "but if you try, sometimes you get just what you need. And all I need is a good shotgun."

  Heard that from a traveling bard one time, though I did add that ending bit.

  "That makes no sense at all."

  "Sure it does, it means-"

  "Look!" she shouted, cutting me off, "I'm done now. You and me are well and truly square. It was very nice going over your guns, and I do think you're a lot more than a simple gunslinger. But you're also a bit of an asshole and I have things to do. So, please," she pointed, "out."

  I tipped my hat.

  "It was a pleasure mis Xoxo- Uh, Sho-shwy... Shorty."

  She tisked, "Thanks for trying I guess. Go bother the Professor, I'm sure he wants to give you the long version of his life's work."

  "Fine, fine. Need to go feed my pig any how. Any coworkers you wouldn't miss?" I asked with a wolfish grin as small clawed hands pushed me from the tent.

  "Ha. Ha." The flap shut in my face, but I could still hear her, "stupid man, stupid human, stupid, stupid, stupid-"

  It was a nice day outside.

  Hot, but not too hot.

  Dry, but, well no, it was drier than a Chantry mother's cunt. But besides that, a nice day.

  I whistled for Moxie as I cleared the camp.

  She came a runnin' with a happy squeel. Big, fat and happy, she was covered in dirt, but looked fit and content. Someone had either added some water to her hole or else she'd dug deep enough to make well.

  I shielded my face as she shook, bristles launching thick mud at my already ruined coat.

  "Moxie, please," I said wincing as I extracted a pebble from the wound in my face, "can't you spare me just a little?"

  Her response was to snort and rub her head on my coat, further coating me in muck.

  "Who the hell got you all wet? You look like you went for a swim."

  I glanced to the sky. There was a cloud or two, but it'd be weeks before the next rain.

  "That was my work, Mister Roche," came a deep voice that sounded like a cool drink of whiskey after a long and dirty day. I turned to see that Outcast woman, the that glared me to death when I first come to camp.

  Yollotli. Uh... Lottie. She was wearing rugged canvas trousers and a long sleeved blouse of airy silk. Probably nice and cool for the heat, but it was a shame I saw so little skin.

  "Oh," I said try to keep my eyes from lookin' for the curves I couldn't see, "how?"

  Her lips twisted in a frown, "Water magic. You really shouldn't leave her to try and cool herself. Razorbacks cannot sweat. She can and will die of heatstroke if you don't keep an eye on her."

  I nodded.

  Shit. I did not know that. Felt a hot flash of shame for my lack of care.

  I might be a fuck-up by many measures, but I'd never be let it said that old Lorcan Roche let his animals suffer.

  "Well thank you mightily for the tip, Miss Lottie," I touched my hat, "And I'm sorry for my poor hostin' of her. Can I pay you to water her regular like?"

  She crossed her arms and shook her head, "No. It's my pleasure to make sure such a fine animal is well cared for. Despite your lapse, it is very clear you've began to establish a strong bond with her. That is worthy of... Some respect."

  Lottie moved to my pig's side and didn't hesitate to dig fine, manicured fingers into Moxies muddy flank. The hog gave a low, rumbling, snort and let out a big, gust of a sigh.

  I'd remember that trick. Miss Lottie was a keen student of pigs, it seemed.

  "Well, I'd be happy to compensate you anyway," I said, a bit of a purr to my voice, "anyway you might like..."

  I winked.

  She glared.

  "Listen to me, Gunslinger," she hissed, "you are not here to seduce the expeditionary team. You are not here to play the rake. You are here to kill monsters and stand between us and death while we work. Put your prick back in your pants and focus on the task ahead. We have no time for tomfoolery."

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Oh be still my black little heart. I loved me a woman with fire in her.

  "I'm sure there'll be time, for it all," I said and took a step closer, "I'm very good at what I do."

  She didn't step away, just kept glaring, "Mister Roche. Are you aware of the customs common to most Outcast tribes?"

  I shrugged, "Not a whit. But I can learn anything that's... Hands on."

  "Well," she continued, undeterred, "my tribe was one of the few to still practice ritual cannibalism. Specifically of the genitalia of men who touched what was not theirs."

  I blinked, and felt the blood leave my cheeks.

  "Ahem. Let me make myself clear," I said dropping the act, "I was not going to touch you without consent. And I was just tryin' to play the game. Give me a hard no and I won't say a word. I don't take no as a maybe. Just say it clearly and I won't cross that line."

  Her dark brows knit together, and her expression softened.

  "Hmm. Well. Alright then. No," She let go of Moxie and began to leave, "I do appreciate the directness of your follow up. That has earned you the chance to make a better impression."

  She left me there in the desert, with the sun and wind and the sound of Moxie's snoring.

  Huh. That was not how that was supposed to go. Normally my charm at least got me a smile or two, often times more.

  Not with Miss Lottie though. Not that day anyhow. I'd have to earn her respect first, and you know what? I think that made me like her all the more. Half the beauty of a mountain flower is how damn hard it is to reach.

  And I was a climber by nature.

  I ate a dinner with the camp.

  Exchanged some names and a few jokes. There were about twenty of them in all. A few academics from the university, and a handful of local Outcasts hired on to do the grunt work, and of course the pair I'd met who were something like proteges to the aging Professor.

  The food was simple, but good, and the company was a lot better than the road. Despite my prickly exterior, I was social creature in many ways. Brought me joy to have a laugh with some folk and a hot meal in my belly. Made me feel a little less dead.

  When I broke my little reserve of stolen whiskey out, that's when folks got real friendly.

  Evidently there had been issues in gettin' supplies to the expedition. Bandits on the road sometimes, or simple fauna like that antlion I accidentally saved Shorty from. While food and essentials was in good supply, things like ghostleaf, alcohol and soap were precious and rare. So much so that I soon had a crowd of eager folk gathered round, offering all they had to me in exchange for just a dram or two of fine, Southern bourbon.

  I traded it. Not cause I needed their stuff but because it was a quick way to make friends. The more these folk liked and trusted me, the easier it would be to keep 'em safe. And... They'd be a lot more likely to watch my back too. These academic might not know much about the real world, but they knew more about them ruins than I ever would.

  So, I traded.

  I traded until I was down to one good bottle and had more curios, trinkets and doodads than I knew what to do with. I even convinced one gal to give me a shave once my face was healed up.

  It was a damn fine time, and I was a little drunk when Shorty found me again.

  "Hey, Guildie, you okay?" she asked. The little red runt had skipped most of the fun, secreting off to her tent to work on, whatever. Some folk just didn't get the value in being social. I noticed she looked a little more tired than she ought to. Not from drink, but as if she'd just been jolted from sleep.

  "Hmm?" I replied, and tried to focus on her with my good eye. Not the arcane one. I was tired of seeing too much, "what you want little sister?"

  Her lips pressed into a hard line and her eyes narrowed, Little? I'm a grown woman. Probably a decade your senior, kid."

  "Nah," I shook my head, "nah. I'm older than you by a..."

  Huh, did lost time count? If it did I was nearly, uh, twenty-nine?

  Well shit.

  "By a bit!" I finished, "I'm the older sibling, go on and go to sleep little red!" I laughed as the whiskey carried me into a stumble.

  "Ugh," she grumbled, "I'd love to, Roche. But there's something you need to check out. Come on, we have to go to the dig."

  I frowned and smacked my lips, "No, that's tomorrow, now go and-" I hiccuped, "go to bed."

  "No," she hissed and pulled my coat, "I need to show you something now. I think there's something dangerous prowling around the passage. I told Professor Clarke and a few others but no one will take me seriously about it."

  "Hic," I blinked away a little of the booze and frowned, "why not? They seem uh, ration... Uh, smart."

  She tugged at me and I sighed. The little red runt was mighty persistent.

  "Cry wolf did ya?"

  "More like cry sand scorpion attack, but kind of, yes. In my defense there were scorpions, they were just," she pinched a clawed finger and thumb, "smaller than I said. Anyway, that's not the point, the point is that I saw something in the dig, and I think we need a guard posted down there."

  I yawned and twisted my neck, I wasn't quite as drunk as I let on and... I noticed a little shake in her grip on my coat.

  She was properly scared, and, well, it was a fool who didn't heed the warnings of smart people with a reason to be afraid. Even if she was wrong, havin' a look would put her mind at ease at least.

  "Alright, alright. I'll camp out near there if'n it'll get you to bed, ya little ankle biter."

  She huffed, "I don't think I like you Mister Roche."

  I grinned and flipped up her little hood over her scaly face as I walked passed, "Too bad, you're growing on me."

  Stumbling a little less and more in control of my faculties, I followed the little red girl through the tents and towards the great structure that we'd all come here to see. The cliff it was cut into loomed over the camp in the moonlight. The haze of warding fires lit all around made that ancient face seem particularly sinister in the late night.

  A cool breeze blew on through as we stopped before the boarded entrance and Shorty and I both shivered. I took a glance at the red scaled woman beside me. She wasn't looking at the entrance, her eyes slid right around it.

  "What was it that spooked you exactly? You were awful vague back there."

  Shorty's mouth pressed into a thin line and her yellow eyes went hard, "If I tell you, you'll just laugh at me."

  I rubbed my chin and shrugged, "Probably. But you still should," I muttered and lit a smoke, "let me guess. You had a dream or somethin' like that? Or maybe just a feelin' that the dark was a little darker than usual?"

  Silence, 'cept the wind.

  My mutated eye tracked all the little things that came in the night. The floatin' jellies and ghosts of old beasts. There weren't many around here. There was an absence in the spirits, a scarcity that spoke to some wrongness in the land.

  I felt like I was standin' in front of a predator's den.

  Like all the little creatures knew to steer clear of the place. Of our camp, too.

  But why? What was so scary that no ghost or specter would come close?

  "I did have a dream," Shorty said, real low, "I used to have a lot of dreams when I was still," she took a deep, calming breath, "still up above. They called me a Seer. Told me my dreams were visions from the gods. But I was wrong, sometimes. People stopped listening, except when I said good things."

  "Uh huh," I said flicking my cigarette and moving a free hand to my gun, "and what did ya see this time?"

  I could feel a little tension in my gut.

  Another gust of cold desert wind. The far off howl of some four-legged beast. The low and constant hum of the wards. The silence of the little lizard woman.

  My smoke burned out, the cherry dead just before my lips. As if some onery ghost had licked his finger tips and snuffed it out.

  "... I saw darkness and smoke," She muttered, "I saw a man come to camp. To the Vault. Red-skinned, an Ascended. I saw him go down into the dark, talk to it, learn from it… Then I saw him-"

  Nearby, a fire guttered out with a hiss, as though someone had just dropped a bucket of cold water on the coals.

  With the light wen the haze of divine mana, and all that lingered was a reachin’ dark, and a unnatural cold.

  A ward dead.

  Something distant moved, something deep beneath the sands. Another gust came, those one frigid and strange. It almost seemed to… whisper of some absence made. I could see the faintest tendrils of dark mana bleed into reality, ridin’ on that unnatural wind.

  A little of that Entropy beyond the light crept closer in. Mana like black smoke seepin' up as things started lookin' in.

  "Did you feel that?" I said, slowly drawin' my pistol.

  Shorty looked at me with wide, frightened eyes and nodded, "What?"

  "Go get the Professor and everyone you can. Tell 'em Mister Roche said something is snuffing your wards out. Someone just did something dirty, and I don’t think they’re going to be around to clean the mess," I drew and looked out and around with my arcane eye. I spotted them, shadows in the gloom, darker black than anything should be. Shadows climbing from the ripples that began to form all around.

  "Shorty.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Run.”

  Click.

  'Fa-lo-ow, Fav-o-o-rite, cooooooment!"