After Howl’s father handed him the letter, he went upstairs to his room to pack.

  A lot of his things were at the dormitory back at school, but he had a short sword, his staff, a satchel that could hold twice its size in snacks, and a mana potion he’d gotten for his birthday last month.

  Father had let him know that Peregrine was going to be travelling by land, so Howl decided he would try and catch up to her.

  He was only three or four hours behind them.

  “Fair weather, Master Howl,” Malory waved him off at the door, and thus started his journey.

  Howl was not a fool, he knew that there was most certainly a capybara problem at the border - so he decided to veer west though the Pines. Martin’s Grotto was a small border village near the highlands that was built in the Servalt style, the houses on the ground instead of in the trees. It was at the foot of Mount Vemund, where the mountain met the forest, and one of the three official border crossings.

  He planned to stop there and get some food… unfortunately, Howl’s plans were thrown off course as soon as he arrived.

  “When did this happen?” He asked, standing in front of a blackened patch of dirt on the main road through Martin’s Grotto.

  “The inn burnt down a few months back, I’m afraid.” An older elf passing by overheard his question and walked over. “The Perriwinkles are still at the capital, pleading their case.”

  “What did they do to make it this bad?” Howl asked, curious.

  “They didn’t do nothing; one of your peers did.” He pointed at Howl’s school cloak. “They misfired something bad in the tavern and the whole place went up. No, no, they’re hoping to convince the crown to let them rebuild.”

  “What’s stopping them?”

  “No one’s allowed to build anything in the old style, not since the war.” The elf shook his head sadly, “And there aren’t any free trees for sale near the Grotto. If they can’t rebuild the place, they’ll have to leave town.”

  “That’s tragic.” Howl said, angry on their behalf. He should write to father immediately.

  “Actually, someone gave the family a whole year's salary and the cost to rebuild, so it’s not too bad for them. Last I heard they've family north, and might just start over up there. Miss Salma has hot pies for sale around the corner if you need dinner.” The elf pointed down the road a ways, towards a wooden house with white-painted flower beds on every windowsill. “The pheasant one is the best, in my personal opinion.”

  “Thank you,” Howl said, sincere. The snacks would tide him over, but he’d been expecting a hot meal at the inn and he appreciated the recommendation.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Taking his hot pheasant pie, Miss Salma directed him to a park bench closer to the border where he could sit and eat and gather his thoughts. He was mostly finished, picking at the last pieces of flaky crust, when a strange feeling had him on his feet and looking around.

  The peaceful village felt it too, doors and windows suddenly slamming as a horn blew from the border gate.

  It wasn’t just a feeling any longer. The earth beneath his feet started to tremble. Another horn blast rang out, and Howl made a flash decision to jump onto the bench. The tremors got worse, and then he heard it.

  The sound of them, chortles and whistles and many, many footfalls.

  Off in the distance, rocks started to slide down a small bare section of mountain… and then they were in view; a hundred or more capybara charging along the edge of the forest, running over the border station.

  The stampede divided, some continuing on while eighteen broke off and ran into Martin’s Grotto.

  “Oh no, wait, ahhh.” Howl let out a cry as many of the beasts ran through the park. One hopped up onto his bench, sniffing his pie and then sniffing his boot. He crouched down to look at the capybara. “What are all of you doing here?”

  “Marshall’s group was trying to get them back to their homes on Mount Vemund…” He wasn’t expecting an answer, but a border guard had climbed his way out of the destroyed booth and was walking around inspecting the damage. “Looks like that failed.”

  There were capybara’s everywhere. One even made it onto Miss Salma’s roof. It was chewing the flowers off of a blossoming apple tree in her garden.

  A border guard ran to him, clearly out of stamina from chasing the creatures. With whatever breath he had left, the elf said, “By the gods.”

  “Jerry,” the Martin’s Grotto border guard slapped Jerry on the back. “I see the herding went well.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?!” Jerry wailed. “They’ve made it into Sumbria. We’ll never catch them now!”

  The poor elf was right - only a few stopped in Martin’s Grotto. The capybara stampede had continued into the woods beyond.

  “Well,” Howl climbed down from the picnic bench, careful to give the capybara who’d joined him there room as he did so. The creature took his place, nose high and sniffing. “It looks like Madame Potts’ strikes again.”

  “Don’t say it,” Jerry wagged a finger at Howl, his face twisted. “You don’t have to write the reports–”

  The elf stopped short when he finally got a good look at Howl, and then his black skin went ashen. “--Lord Fern!? A thousand apologies, Count.”

  He’d not been this recognizable before– but apparently finding a golden goose and getting called before the entire court made someone notable.

  “No need to worry. I’m just passing through…” When Howl thrust a thumb at the border crossing, he noticed something ominous now that the dust had settled. Then he cursed.

  “I think you’re not going to make it through there tonight, my lord.” The local border guard said, pointing out the obvious. There was enough of a landslide that the pass was washed out with rubble. “Unless you can fly?”

  Howl sighed. “How far down the pass is it to the canyon?”

  “Entrance is only two or three hours on foot, depending on your speed.”

  “Alright then.” Howl nodded at the guards, who didn’t even bother checking his paperwork before he crossed the border and turned right. At least his destination was all downhill from here.

  Any hopes of catching up with his sister that night were lost.

  Yes, this is the inn that Rufus rented and burnt down during Brownie's show.