On top of the caravan called Ripple, Kriti heard escalating sounds of grunting and thrashing. She waited assured that even if Sleepnir the horse fell to the killing claws, she would use the time wisely. The poisonous darts would eventually kill the Boar-Bear. However it took time for things like that to work into the bloodstream, and they had little of that.

  Twice it dodged her kill shots and that was twice more than anyone might find acceptable. So long as the men and Day were within the relative safety of the cart, she could also stone the stupid thing. As if called upon to dash her hoped, Bodi popped out with his spear.

  “Nettle really bit it.” Bodi told her, pointing his spear towards the noise. “Day’s doing all sorts of weird magic in there.”

  “I imagine,” Kriti muttered without turning down to look at him. The sound of hoofbeats alerted her. “Get ready. Be smart. I can’t give you a shield.”

  Bodi nodded and moved to the side of the cart for protection. His shoulder against the curve of the wood.

  Sleepnir again jumped over the ditch. His tail lifted high and head up for an eye-white eyed run. White froth covered his chest. Blood from tiny scrapes along his chest and flanks sprayed everywhere. In the two or three minutes taken to reload and poison darts, the horse had effective dodged the huge predator. That time had been critical for them all. Sleepnir went directly to hide behind the caravan. Shuddering to a stop, the horse blew out heavy breathes.

  The huge Boar-Bear again exploded out of the woods. The poison had slowed it and the jaw hung open, drool oozing out. Kriti hit the left eye with her first crossbow and dropped it to grab her second. The Boar-Bear let out a terrible screeching, slowing from the horse chase to claw at its face. Bodi took one long look, then went behind the caravan. He didn’t think a singular spear would be enough. He caught Sleepnir’s halter giving the horse instructions, “Be quiet and hide.”

  Kriti shot out its second eye with her second crossbow. This time rose to two paws beating at the air and its own head. The arrow backs broke and fell off. The rocks along its back glowed but the eyes couldn’t heal away the sunken in bolt of the right eye. The left eye, however, it clawed enough of its own flesh out so the front tip got pushed out.

  Relentlessly, Kriti reloaded, hitting the eye again. The Boar-Bear screamed and hit at nothing. Then it seemed to consider this fight wasn’t going so well. It waggled its head, using the sense of smell to head towards buddy. To reload on energy no doubt, then it could go after them again.

  Kriti reached for her hijab, but the bear snuffled over to the body of Buddy and then hung its head down. Finally, the poison taking stronger and stronger effect. The Boar-Bear collapsed dead, having never gotten to eat the kill. Even as the last wheeze of air left, a new sound took over.

  The horses that had fled toward the village were coming back. And behind them, a new strange scratching sound. The horses rushed by. Sleepnir jumped out to join them in their slower escape. Behind them, a large scorpion like creature, about the size of two horses, clattered. It had the bright red of a cooked lobster, but the huge tail of the insect. As it charged though, the creature slowed down. It paused as the Boar-Bear. It rudely prodded the Bear with a claw.

  Bodi hefted his spear, but from her better vantage, Kriti shook her head at him. The orc reluctantly brought his throwing arm down. They had no way of knowing how effective the new enemy might be and only had themselves to work with.

  The poking with claws to the dusky body changed to hard pushes. The dead bear didn’t respond. The creature took the Boar-Bear in one claw and seemed to notice Buddy next. The tail made a strange whirling gesture, before taking the horse in one claw. Overburdened by its sudden feast, the scorpion nonetheless tugged and tugged. Finally, inch by inch, it disappeared back towards town. Kriti didn’t release a breath until it had gone.

  Bodi grabbed the side of the caravan and jumped up to join her. “Nice shooting.”

  “We should exploit ranged weapons better. So many things just need held back by you and Nettle. It’s not a smart method.”

  Bodi gave a short nod. “When Nettle is ready to fight again.”

  Laural returned cautiously with the herd of horses. Sleepnir dragging at the back. It was a shock only two of them took injuries and the loss of one horse. Luck had been on their side today. Luck, and Kriti’s wits.

  “Open up, Day,” Laural dropped down. All the horses milled around antsy and upset.

  Day immediately opened the back of the caravan. She helped a limping Nettle out onto the road. He squinted and winced at the sun with an offended air.

  Laural shook her head at him. “You look, rough.”

  “Thanks,” his voice had a new hissing edge to it. “I need to pee.”

  Laural had no sympathy. “Well, off you toodle than.” She pointed towards the beaten woods. The Boar-Bear had destroyed a lot of vegetation in the rampage.

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  Bodi and Spoon scowled at her. “How rude!”

  “What?” She asked, reaching into the cart to get ointment from her pack.

  “You don’t know the laws of men? The laws of peeing men.”

  Day raised her eyebrows and Kriti too appeared to know what was going on.

  “It’s the law of peeing men. You don’t know it?” Kriti frowned at her.

  Day nodded sagely. “With all that I travel I’ve heard plenty about the law of peeing men and understand how important it is.”

  Laural gave them a blank look.

  “How can you have been so sheltered?”

  “It’s not really an area of interest. You know I’ve never traveled from Adville and I date reluctantly to avoid harems.”

  “The law of peeing men states that if you ever pee outside a latrine into woods or nearby armies, you’re asking to be murdered.” Spoon explained. “That’s why you see so many dug latrines and specific holding marks for travelers. An approved bathroom is safe. You can’t just pee in the woods.”

  “Who kills men peeing?” asked Laural curiously.

  “Assassins, other armies, anyone in a Chosen One party, people possessed by evil spirits or beings, creatures attracted to dying horses, the list is actually quite substantial.” Bodi nodded. “Orcs aren’t immune either. It’s any man.”

  Laural shook her head. “This doesn’t seem right. I don’t understand. I’ve seen my bother pee in the woods many times.”

  As one all the men grew slightly stiff and quiet.

  “Many times?” asked Bodi cautiously.

  “Why are you all behaving so oddly?”

  “You see, it’s a well known method of suicide. You ignore the law and wait for whomever needs a convenient easy side kill on their main questline plot.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Yes,” both men agreed together

  Nettle complained. “I still have to pee.”

  “I doubt he was suicidal.” Laural frowned. “You men just don’t know enough about the topic of safely peeing in the woods and have become hysterical about this bogeyman.”

  They couldn’t tell if she was needling them or not. Perhaps it was just meant to troll them. Or maybe she couldn’t accept her brother’s potential real feelings.

  “Are you saying you know more about men than three men do?” Bodi took Nettle under one arm but didn’t walk off with him.

  “Why not?” Laural shrugged. “My brother never wanted to take his own life. You’re just wrong.”

  “Discussion after?” The sound Nettle made convinced the three men to go off to the bathroom. Just as they always had.

  When they returned, they loaded Nettle into the cart and crushed in around it. Laural dapping ointment onto Sleepnir.

  “We need to get out of here,” Kriti reminded them. “There’s a lot of horse blood which could mean further attack.”

  Laural ignored her and focused on Bodi.

  “So does it become a self-fulling prophecy?” asked Laural. “Men who want to die pee alone and when they get killed with their pants down it reinforced the law of peeing men?”

  “Exactly.” Spoon confirmed for him. “Did we really think that peeing is so all consuming that no man could ever fight back and they all wanted an extremely embarrassing death before they could get their pants back on?”

  “I feel like nobody takes the rule of peeing men seriously.” Laural began dabbing the side of Sleepnir. “I must have noticed before now! Or heard of it. Nobody must be serious about this.”

  “It’s very serious. You pee in threes or not at all. Road brush, trees, warzones, when guarding anything, and after making crude jokes, put you at especially high risk.”

  She still wasn’t entirely sure if they were all messing with her. “What do men do when traveling alone?”

  “The caravan pee option.” Bodi and Spoon said together.

  “Which is?“ She pushed.

  “You pee behind your horse or cart, in an open area, and travel rapidly afterwords. If you’re disgusting, into a pee flask but that’s only for the truly terrified. Latrines really are the safest, although outhouses are usually safe as well. Cities are typically safer although not always. Privies are always a good place to get into castle and kill kings too.” Bodi said this last bit with more glee than strictly necessary.

  Laural muttered to one of the horses, then apparently got confirmation. “Shit. Are there other laws of men?”

  “Naturally.”

  Kriti spoke from where she’d finished putting Tyra and Tyer into the harness for the Ripple caravan. “Is our plan to wait until something else monstrous tries to kill us or can we please travel at least a few feet from a huge attraction scent for predators?”

  “What are the chances of-“

  “No,” Bodi interrupted. “No jinxes. We also don’t say, ‘how could this get any worse.’ Not now, not ever. Too common of a joke.”

  “It’s still funny,” Kriti complained while taking out one of the much lesser seen of the remaining sixteen horses. Shear L’Eau, an all gray sixteen hand horse that spoke to Laural in an Irish accent, had been acting as a pack horse until this sudden rise to saddle stock.

  As she mounted, Shear made a calm whiffling sound. “So off we go?”

  Nettle groaned from the cart, trying to sit up.

  Day clucked at him. “Absolute not. You’re riding in there with the luggage. It’s just too bad we can’t fit Sleepnir in there too.”

  She got a lump of sugar and gave it to the exhausted horse. He now had green ooze covered over his many scrapes and had been fully wiped down. Day shut the door on Nettle’s complaints before he even managed to say them.

  She frowned at Bodi and Spoon. “In the future, the two of you should consider that Nettle most definitely can never be put into direct combat. The shielding he offers is too valuable to go wasting on punching people. You lot should do that.”

  “Why us?” complained Spoon as Bodi looked down uncomfortably.

  “Laural has to protect the horses, I’m ranged, and Day doesn’t fight you great clods of dirt,” chided Kriti. “What exactly do you have to offer at distance?”

  Spoon got over to Arkle and climbed on while saying, “I successfully distracted it with a spoon. And my one major skill is technically longer ranged than your crossbow.”

  “You can be ultra long ranged or ultra close. Just so long as you aren’t blocking my shot anymore I don’t care where you go.”

  Bodi already road off with Dustrain, a spear poking out from the pack making the horse triple wide, but he apparently settled about where he intended to go. Not that Kriti faulted him. Without that spear, a short sword without Nettle support would have been fatal, even for an orc. His new reinforced skin probably couldn’t stop crushed a horse level of force. Poor Buddy. Laural hadn’t gotten around to being upset, but she would. Nettle too would be laid up for awhile recovering from the glancing blow. Her party suddenly seemed very short handed and they didn’t even know how far they had to go. She’d have to remind them to look at the arrow eventually, but not today. Today they’d survived. That would have to be enough.