“We’re going to have to stop at the next place we can find. Nettle needs to rest and recover. Bouncing around in the back of the cart and being cold at night isn’t going to cut it. He needs a bed,”

  “But the immortality thing?” Bodi shrugged. “Shouldn’t he, like, ultra heal?”

  “He’s immortal not invulnerable.”

  “And realistically he seems to be very bad at self-healing.” Day shook her head uncomfortably. “From everything I’ve read about Fae, he should be recovering much quicker. I’m not sure if he’s been using up all his magic on those shield spells or if maybe, he’s got a curse that meddles with it.”

  Bodi unsuccessfully tried to chew on his lower lip through two large tusks. “Do you think the dragon blood is to blame?”

  “Not likely. The curses are from killing a dragon not getting blessed by one.” Day shushed them. “I think he’s going to join us.”

  Nettle limped out of the cart and over to the fire. He slumped down then clearly marshalled his energy. “We need to keep going.”

  They all froze. Spoon delivered a very careful answer.

  “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

  “I don’t care what you think!” He started coughing for sixteen seconds, then recovered. “We should press on.”

  “Have you had dinner yet?”

  Kriti brought him over a plate and the rehydrated beef chunk covered in a beautiful orange glaze. Everyone else had considered it a victory dinner. Nettle reluctantly picked at it. Nibbling off little bits with a sort of tired tenacity.

  They let him take up his argument with dinner and turned back to the five of them.

  “Where’s the map, Day?” She got it from the caravan and brought back with her the arrow from the necromancer.

  Kriti noted it. “What do you have those three pieces for?”

  Before they could answer more, a clatter of plate and fork together rang out. Nettle slumped over, losing both half the beef, cause half fell in his lap smearing the orange glaze, and all the plate and silverware to the ground. It jolted him awake but already his eyes were fluttering shut. He shook himself trying to remain alert.

  “You can’t even eat dinner. I don’t think you’re fit to carry on.”

  There was no reply from the dozing Fae.

  “Sleep is supposed to restore them. We shouldn’t wake him.”

  “He’s the only one who knows what we’re questing for.”

  Day and Spoon shot the others a pained look over the fire. Day slightly curled her lip. “Weren’t you three all hired to go on this quest?”

  Kriti crossed her arms. “I met them midway on the road and had to start driving a cart because Bodi couldn’t!”

  “Laural and Nettle gave me the wrong time of day. And nobody asked me if I needed to drive a cart!”

  “Laural?”

  She glanced at the others and shrugged. “He never told me and if he had I wouldn’t remember over trying to get all the horses names. Six new horses. Now so few.”

  “How many days of questing have we been on when only one person knew where we were questing towards?” Day rubbed her forehead. “All I know is he keep picking out somewhere in the Goblin Haze to search around in.”

  Laural jumped up. “I’m out.”

  Bodi groaned, “No way.”

  Spoon bit his lip uncomfortably. Drawing a tiny droplet of blood. Does vampire blood never bother vampires? You would think it would if only because watching a fellow species die in a bloody way must be uncomfortable.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Kriti grinned. Lots of things died in the Goblin Haze. It could be interesting. Maybe.

  “Sit down Laural, you need food to get home and I’m going to wherever there is treasure. So is the caravan, with all the supplies.”

  “Great.” Laural snapped.

  “Great,” Day said cheerily. “Does anyone know about this arrow?”

  Kriti picked it up. Other than the white color and length, it appeared to be a single broad head carved directly into the shaft and imaginary fletching at end of it.

  “This is an ornamental piece. It couldn’t fire in most bows.” She casually put the three pieces together, even though they had no glue to hold it in place. “There is an etching on this side, but it had been filed down to randomized grooves.”

  Laural went over. She placed her hand on it gently intertwined grass from below into a braid long it. She hummed to the grasses and it dutifully moved slowly along gradually binding it together. This took no less than forty-two minutes and stalled the entire discussion as most of the grasses hummed and the horses awkwardly swayed to it. Nobody knew what was going on so they didn’t want to interrupt.

  Kriti’s hand went numb from holding it in the same position so long. She also had a minor fixation on something in the woods, Laural didn’t see anything there herself and neither did the animals, but maybe it had just been staring into space.

  When Laural looked up, they were all waiting for her. She’d been so busy it felt like only instants. “It had a spell on it once. I couldn’t’ restore it fully. It sorta hard to explain. I enhanced what was there. Like should call to like now.”

  “And before this?” Day clarified. “I mean could you tell what the spell used to be.”

  “No idea. I can tell it’s now like to like and that some remnants of the old spell are involved in that. I didn’t want to take many risks. I’m not skilled like you and Nettle. I just vibe. Feel things. It’s complicated.”

  Bodi shrugged. “We get it. You’re like the original witch type. Plants and animals and things. Just a touch of shaman on the side.”

  “What? No.” She glowered at him. “It’s not like that at all. I’m an elf. Who ever heard of an elf-witch?”

  “I think that’s an oxymoron.”

  “You’re a moron,” she snapped at Bodi.

  Day played peacemaker. “I don’t think either of you are right. However, now this can help point us in the direction it wants to go. Kriti, bring me a flat pan.”

  “I’m not a servant.”

  Day got up in a huff and returned with an egg skillet, a fantasy classic for Jackie Chan fight scenes.

  She poured water into it and put the arrow on top. It didn’t fit inside the pan being a full hands breath longer, so she filled it up with water and added a small upside down bowl to put the arrow on. It spun languidly. Finally, though it stopped, pointing towards the woods not the path.

  “How do we know that works?” Bodi asked.

  After fifteen different trial and error spots around the camp with same results, Bodi conceded. “It works.”

  Day put down the map angling it easier to align. “We’ll go here to rest. Nettle needs to be up to speed before we get in the Goblin Haze. It’s unlikely to be safe there and we’ll need his shields.”

  Nettle roused slightly at his name, uncomfortably still by the fire. He tried to stretch out his neck and shoulder but ended up just slumping back over. He slowly blinked awake looking towards the caravan and the blankets within.

  “Nettle, how do you feel?” Day took up the questioning and the others watched on quietly.

  “I’m fine.”

  “None of that. We’re definitely going to stop at Mooning Castle. You can tell us the truth.”

  “Fuck it hurts. I mean really this is awful. It hurts to think. I swear pain so damn much. Fuck that stupid Boar-Bear. I hope the entire family gets eradicated and that all his descendants fail to have children and that is spread to everyone of his species.”

  “I see.”

  “No, it’s so bloody painful and this so stupid why did it have to hit me. I hate you all! Not a little, a lot. I should have been on this trip with bloody Fae who actually get it and not you ugly lot!”

  “Really, we get-“

  “I don’t think have any idea how much it hurts. This shit is completely unreasonable and I keep having to say it. Have to hangout with the poors and no medical care and I hate the woods, and I hate how you gave me the worst horse even though I’m a great rider. I hate the bones that clack in the caravan making me think of necromancy and chiropractors. And I hate you all for being mortal and still fine. At least one of you could have taken some damage first but I just don’t think you all realize how bad it really is for me. And how this treasure won’t really solve anything and I shouldn’t have been forced to hire you because my enemies stripped away the proper Fae company. And there’s a lot more too.”

  They goggled at him.

  “That fine enough for you? Fucking hurts.” He hobbled away and got the caravan door to slam.

  Day stiffened then relaxed. “I think he might be in considerable pain.”

  Spoon tilted his head. “I think this might be the first time he’s ever been in pain.”

  Bodi shook his head. “But he’s old.”

  “Yeah, but clearly, he’s a shut in that cares about shoes and obscure points of history. I’m not sure he realized until now he was vulnerable in a fight.”

  “How likely is that?”

  Day went over and opened the door to ask, “Hey, did you think you wouldn’t get hurt?”

  “Of course, I fucking thought I wouldn’t get hurt. Do you think I would have gone on such a mission knowing this could happen?”

  Day frowned. “But you knew that the horses attracted monsters and stuff.”

  “Horses aren’t me,” he whined and then slammed the door shut again in Day’s face.

  She glowered at the door. “Choosing sides? Not alright. So, Nettle’s, umn, not as up to date as one might hope.”

  “Is he going to be a crab the rest of the time?” Bodi scowled over at the cart.

  “Contemplating one’s mortality tends to do that to you.” Spoon had heard a lot of none born vampires who got upset about these things. As one might. Being dead or not tended to change people’s outlook. And Nettle was not dead. He’d just be killing their pace for now. But first they had to sleep, and not every night’s sleep is restful.