In the morning, the dust swirled up being the men. The three women as one turned to look at each other. Everything managed for the time, all the things in order and finally they could talk all that girl talk. The secret hidden in workings of the weirdest of all creatures, not mankind, but woman kind.

  “I cannot wait for this. It’s been so long since I’ve had a spa day with company!” Kriti clapped her hands.

  Laural gushed. “Spa day? Girl, I have been waiting for one of you to speak my language this whole damn time. Why do you think I moved to the city when I like the outdoors so much? The clothing and the clothing, and a few plays. Museums and culture? Mostly good food. Damn, do we have a rare chic-lit fantasy off worlder? They’re the best because you can afford anything expensive.”

  “Once we have at least three discussions of over emotional labor,” Day admitted. “The best part is how friend groups form supportively. None locals get a huge boost.”

  Kriti raised her eyebrows. She’s used off worlder vibes on multiple occasions. “Why’d you travel to Adville, Day? The real reason not the throwaway.”

  “When you travel as much as I do, you sort of forget why you go places.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The vampire council called me in for like two things, but then they underpaid. I got pretty annoyed with them. Anyway, there are less women in my profession than you’d think. It’s pretty physical and very dangerous work. Virtually the only time I get to hang out with anyone is when I’m back in one of the Chiropractor Meetups and those can get so professionally draining. I’m sorry I’m not sure how to do this whole,” she waved generally “chic chick thing.”

  Kriti linked her arm into Day’s. She definitely had an opportunity to exploit a weakness in the necromancer. A wavering mind can be a boon. “I’ve got you, girl.” She really needed to get in three more girls to impress upon her quarry the need to gossip. “I travelled to live in Adville and learned which places to stop on the way. I can show you all sorts of great things anywhere. Especially Mooning Castle. Word travels around my groups about the best things to do, and I’ll bet you avoid certain places because you’re worried they’ll figure your occupation, but with the two of us along, nobody will bat an eye.”

  Laural took Day’s other arm, “And if you hate anything, we can find a shop to sip tea in or visit an exotic animal petting lots. They can be a lot of fun assuming that the caretakers are actually doing a good job of caring for their critters. Who doesn’t want to pet an arapaima-goat? The don’t faint or scream, but I’ve heard they’re monsters when down by the river, living under a bridge.”

  “Should we each pick one thing to do today and all of us can outline a few things we want to do?”

  “The spa!” exclaimed Laural and Kriti.

  “Some shopping. Got to eat then get one thing for each of us.”

  “How will we fit it all in?”

  Kriti spoke up, “We’ll need a map to reduce the amount of time wasted between stops and a good itinerary.”

  “But we all know the first stop already!”

  The three women hurried off for the best option available. The health spa. It had been the right choice to first rent the showers and clean up from the road muck. All three of them were new creatures. No longer were they on the road together, but three fresh strangers at Mooning Castle.

  Day, Kriti, and Laural did not make a particularly imposing set of women when they got rid of the horse height, whips, and various supplies. Laural could throw you over her head easily, the Kriti would kill you with a tap, and Day walked as the most vile of necromancers, but dressed up hair brushed and all cleaned prior to their appointments, they appeared to be middleclass women out for a fun day together. Maybe even brunch and wine drinking.

  Day wore a yellow sundress with daisy’s patterned into the bottom. They seemed to grow up from the earth but stopped before her waist. Her yellow dress top had cropped sleeves that puffed perkily and accented her scooped neckline. Plus, a slightly too large sun hat with a green ribbon double wrapped and bowed.

  Kriti wore a new headscarf of cherry blossoms and white birds. The silk sheen of which many women walking by noticed and complimented in passing. Underneath, she wore a blue shirt with birds as well, and a flowing skirt of white. She had put on makeup that enhanced her eyes and used couturing on her cheeks. This enhancement gave a regal profile figure. As she’d done before in her life as an assassin, she’d changed form from camp cook into a wealthy chaperone, shepherding her two younger sisters.

  Laural wore pants, but they were soft and comfortable reds. One she could never wear and ride with for fear of damaging the fine materials. Her shirt blended the red into a dark umber and she wore a matching necklace and earring pair of fiery, fire-y, fierier red. Her hair she piled up onto the top of her head, letting the loose blonde strands create a final fringe on the top. It was ridiculously out of place and impressive in height.

  “How on earth did you get it up there?”

  “It’s mostly fake,” she admitted, “Actually, I only ever get to wear this in official ceremonies back home and I’ve been aching to get it worn out of my normal range. I brought it along just in case I had to go into any elven places on ceremony. Missing it is like exposing you have no clan.”

  Day admitted. “I’m afraid my knowledge of elven rituals is largely limited. Especially for a human.”

  “Oh, be glad for yourself. It’s mostly a waste of time. Besides, my knowledge of your customs and ceremonies is just as bad. I mean, your other ones, not the human ones.”

  Day gave her a lopsided grin. “My profession?”

  Kriti grinned at both. “I know many different traditions, and none of which do I expect to talk about today! Are we shopping for anything in particular?”

  “Shoes!” They both agreed together and cheerily. “But like actually travel ones because my boots are beat. Then food.”

  They went around the rest of the day, quite free an not thinking about their eventual meetup location. They used up their funds, drank boba, and tried on necklaces that nobody would ever buy. Without the cart, they couldn’t pick up as many large supplies but only things that could fit into the horses packs. They’d kept Apple, Jac, Sleepnir, and two of the Quads.

  With their tiny trinkets and stolen secrets, they went back for the final afternoon rest at the weredog home. They were completely happy as they went to sleep.

  #

  In the evening, Laural broke through the peaceful repast with one loud question.

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

  “Where the hell are the boys?” Although she might have asked, do we still need to beat the Bechdel test?

  They’d all put on travel clothes to make it faster to leave in the morning. Laural back in leather boots, brown riding pants, and a faded green shirt. Day wearing a multi-colored skirt and her brand-new golden earrings. Kriti was back in black, after she left her sleep poof. She saw a red door and wanted to paint it black.

  Then, they’d ridden to the meeting point and found the Ripple, plus all the horses unattended. Dangerous that, but it had happened nonetheless. The three women had eaten a snack and were now staring out into sky, mindful of the sun’s relentless march towards the horizon. By now, they should have everyone back together and be moving along again. Instead, they had empty blue skies without dust. All the horses were there, all the supplies, everything except for three missing men.

  “Do you think a dragon ate them?”

  “Nettle is too stringy. Bodi looks unappealing, and Spoons too, uh, emotionally clogged.”

  “Attractive enough except with his emo I won’t talk about anything interesting. So sad to ruin such a pretty face with such a strangely repelling attitude.” Laural complained.

  “You aren’t being fair. He’s just freaked out about trying to hide that he’s here to protect Nettle.” All three turned to look at Kriti. “What? You didn’t know? It’s pretty obvious.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I can sniff out plain clothing guards for days. It’s part of your basic skill package. To protect important cakes. He’s not experienced and it shows. For some reason, he thinks if Nettle finds out, that Nettle will kick him off the group. Because Nettle seems to be largely against the idea of having people protect his person. And because Spoon is incompetent. You saw how active he gets in all the fights. Nettle though, I think he’s just itching to get out there and swinging again. Weird to have a death wish as an immortal.”

  Laural raised an eyebrow. “How could you possibly know Spoon thinks that?”

  She hesitated before admitting, “I eavesdropped on him telling Bodi.”

  “So, Bodi knows?”

  “He told him. Also, Bodi is like sixteen. There is more or less an entire man baby,”

  Kriti continued talking while Laural corrected her with “Orc teenager.”

  Kriti repeated, “Man baby in our midst. That’s what Spoon has on Bodi. Age. Threatened him with labor laws, if I recall correctly.”

  “When did you hear this?”

  “Oh, like I can’t even remember. Not long after Spoon joined us. He had to get his whisper fights in with Bodi. I’m surprised none of the rest of you heard. The forest isn’t exactly the best area for covert conversations. Sound travels pretty far in emptiness other than natural noises. You can tell Spoon doesn’t know how to keep it down. City vampires.”

  “I’m not surprised at you, Day, but Laural can’t you hear like everything with woodland animals?”

  Laural sighed. “Don’t tell the guys. The horses almost never shut up. There’s always: That looks tasty. This is heavy. I’m tired. I’m hot. Is that hay? I have them in part for their good conversation because horses always have something to say, but after a lot of travel, all their more useful Adville talk has dropped away. Now all sorts of stuff soap and tea is getting spilled. Even had the receipts once.”

  “Hard Tack has been talking smack to Sleepnir since I’m always riding him. The general cart horses think they should get special places at night because they pull more weight. Oh, Pair and Par have both gotten on some line complaining about how the cart did this or the cart did that. I know they’re not used to pulling your caravan, but they keep trying to claim the cart does all this stuff that’s physically impossible. I think I’ll have to get their furry brains checked when we get back. It’s wild what they’re saying. The Quad are confident the cart’s normal and keep arguing about this.”

  “Anyway, usually I’m trying to get them all to be quiet enough to talk to you guys. I’m probably the least good person on the whole crew for anticipating things ahead. It’d be best if we weren’t moving and all the horses were bedded down. That’s how I can function better at night, but not as much during the day. With passing deer and squirrels and monsters, there’ always useless chatter. Plus, I tell the animals to help keep trouble away from us.”

  They lapsed into a long silence then. As if speaking about the noise had been the underlying cause of it.

  “What are we going to do about the men?”

  “Where did they say they were going?” asked Day.

  “You think I was listening?” Laural asked, so they all turned to Kriti.

  Kriti fobbed it off to Day. “Don’t you have anything in the cart for this?”

  Day shook her head. “I can check, sometimes I can catch a few things inside the caravan’s supplies.”

  Kriti stiffened. “You catch words in that wood pile?”

  “Not really. Thinking more of an item.” Day walked away before the interrogation could begin in earnest. Once fully inside the cart, door closed. She put her head against the side of the wood and stood still.

  She returned outside. “Sorry. Nothing in there to help us.”

  “Maybe, maybe,” Kriti scowled. “Let’s check their stuff. Maybe one of them left a note.”

  “Why would they leave us a note when they told us where we were going to meet in the morning?” Laural crossed her arms.

  Day patted the side of her cart. “Did they tell us, though?”

  “I don’t think so,” muttered Laural.

  “Whatever they were doing, the sleeping bags suggest they meant to come back for dinner or at least sleep.” Day nodded to Kriti. “How much food is gone?”

  “Nothing notable.” Kriti said. “Maybe a light snack? They should have their canteens of water. That’s good for probably the day maybe two if they were conserving it. But none of those three conserve anything by choice, so maybe a day.”

  “You mean they’re out there tired and thirsty?”

  “We can track them with the animals!” It was Laural’s idea. “If one of the horses can get enough scent, I mean what we really need is a dog, almost any dog, but the horses might have an idea.”

  “Are horses really that sensitive in smelling?” asked Kriti doubtfully.

  “Better suggestions?”

  Day considered. “Maybe we could augment the horses? I don’t have the type of magic you’d need, but a homing spell with cretin magic could lead us.”

  “You’re not putting necromancy spells on my animals!” Laural gave her a hard stare.

  Kriti broke it up. “If there’s a next time, we need to come up with a better plan. For now, let’s hunt with the horses.”

  They went through the piles of clothing.

  “What am I looking for?” Day wanted to know.

  “Dirty socks.” Laural suggested.

  “Ew,” muttered Kriti. “Intestines are so much cleaner. What do you really want?”

  “No really, socks.” Laural shrugged, “or maybe be a pillow?”

  “We’re going to put a horse’s mouth on one of their pillows?” Day hesitated, with only a tiny step towards the pile of bedding.

  “Would it help if we did all their pillows?” Krit grinned. “Maybe the horses should have a drink before they smell?”

  “Are these pants washed or unwashed, which do you need Laural?” Day was not happy and frowning at the hems. “We should have bought pants for Bodi. His ankles are showing so badly.”

  “I don’t understand what he’s been doing to those cuffs.” Kriti complained, “Do orcs have a secret ability to grow for the rest of their lives? Surely even a teen orc shouldn’t be growing this quickly.”

  “Not that I know of.” Day mumbled.

  Laural chose Arkle, because Arkle can do anything. But she also grabbed Dustrain, because if they found Bodi unconscious they would need a single horsepower, not that engine horsepower to horses convert one to one as everyone knows.

  Their horses though had noses flaring. Both doing their level best to catch the scent. Arkle, naturally an overachiever, lead them forward. His nose far down and his walk slow.

  An eternity passed, before Laural asked. “Is anyone going to stay with the horses and supplies?”

  Day shrugged. “You won’t need me anyway.”

  Even though it had taken twenty-two minutes via horse sniffing and tracking, she easily walked back to the horses that stood only thirty feet away still clearly visible on the road. What they wouldn’t give for a single weredog right now.

  “Could we?” Laural stopped Kriti with hand.

  “Don’t rush his process.”

  “Right, but assuming we want to find the boys before sundown?”

  “Oh,” she scowled at her, “grab your crossbow and my whip. I’ll talk to him about sniffing per walk ratios. And if he could maybe guess a little more than confirm every single inch.”

  She left horse and horsewoman looking very cross with one another. Dusterian, having lost interest in human hunting long ago, ambled back with her.

  Instead, they picked up Apple. Apple and Jack, because Jack wanted to cause trouble. Jack, despite his unfriendly horse nature, put his nose down, glared at Arkle, and then picked up a pleasant trot down the road, flipping his ugly tail back and forth with derision at Arkle. They jumped on the two horses, with only reins and no saddles, to go after their new found horse tracker, who totally wouldn’t lead them into nothing just for fun.

  Jack picked up his space. This might have been fine if they’d been staying in the farmlands. But soon, he had them back into an aspen grove. The ghostly white trees hissed each time wind hit their leaves. They were feeling like a cyclops at a third-eye convention.

  They didn’t belong here. And presently, they found out why as the furry trees struck.