Paliborn had stayed up late, unable to shake off the grip of a strange nightmare, and awaited Lena's arrival at dawn. When the soot-covered woman finally arrived, Paliborn couldn't help but notice her right hand wrapped tightly around her palm. Without uttering a word, he fell asleep. Despite his injury from the day before, Paliborn felt much better when he awoke. His first order of business was to stretch his limbs and cleanse his face outside the tent. Allendra and Lena were already awake, their matresses and some rag bags were tied and packed.

  "Good morning, Pal," Allendra greeted from afar, struggling to bear the heavy bucket. The halfling rushed to assist her.

  "What's this, Eli?" he asked groggily.

  "Goat's milk for breakfast and our journey," she replied.

  "Setting off on a journey?" Paliborn inquired, attempting to grasp the situation.

  "Yes, Pal. We depart from this town today. You're coming with us, aren't you?"

  Paliborn shrugged noncommittally, his gaze scanning the crowd for Lena. The witch woman, with a bandaged hand and a bundle on her back, emerged from the gathering throng of the fair. The halfling grinned and waved at her.

  "Are you departing, my lady?" he inquired steadfastly.

  The witch woman sneered, as was her wont. Paliborn was accustomed to this sort of disdainful glance, so he merely smiled in response.

  "Yes, it's time for us to leave this town. I have decided to head towards another settlement via the southern route." she said.

  "May I join you? At least until we reach a crossroads. My ultimate destination is the Quartry," Paliborn proposed.

  Bbefore the woman could respond, Allendra quickly interjected, "That would be marvelous, Pal. You promised to teach me how to distinguish different mushrooms. We could practice on the road."

  The woman scowled, about to reprimand the young girl, but then thought better of it and relented.

  "Fine. We depart in an hour," Lena declared.

  "That's wonderful, my lady. My pony horse and some of my possessions are lodged at the inn. I shall rendezvous with you at the town's entrance," Paliborn replied ecstatically.

  The halfling hurried towards the Red Wing Inn, his steps quickening as he drew closer. Once inside, he was met with the suspicious gazes of the innkeeper and the other townsfolk. They regarded him with questioning eyes, their suspicion palpable. Seeking to understand their unwelcoming behavior, he lingered for a brief moment and surreptitiously eavesdropped on their conversations.

  "They say Arvid may have met his end," one murmured.

  "He was already half in the grave with drink," another interjected. "Perhaps he choked on his own vomit like the fool he was."

  "Didn't he follow that cursed witch last night?" a third voice chimed in.

  "Yes, I seem to recall something of that nature," the first speaker agreed. "I worry that she may have had a hand in it."

  "Nonsense," the second speaker scoffed. "She's naught but another drunken whore."

  Disgusted by their callous words, the halfling decided he had heard enough. He ascended the stairs to his room, gathered his belongings, and retrieved his pony from the barn. But as he stepped out into the daylight, two town guards blocked his path.

  "Halt, halfling. Where do you think you're off to?" one demanded.

  "I am departing this fine town, good sirs. My destination lies in Quartry. Is there a problem?" Pailborn inquired.

  "Last night, one of the town's drunkards met his untimely end," the guard continued, ignoring the hobbit's query. "He was last seen at this very inn. We have been instructed to question its patrons. Where were you last night? The innkeeper did not recall seeing you."

  "But surely you remember me, Master Watchman Angor," the halfling replied smoothly. "I encountered you while I was hunting a rabbit last night. I even had Widow Black's niece in my company."

  "Aye, I remember thee. The famous rabbit-slayer."

  "Indeed. And then I was their guest for the remainder of the night."

  "And was the Widow Black of Harova in thy company as well?"

  "Why do you ask, Master Angor?"

  "She is also among the suspects."

  "Verily, she was with us. She arrived at our camp just before midnight, having stayed at the inn for an hour or two."

  "I see."

  The other guard interjected, "Be that as it may, let us forgo this inquiry, Angor. It is likely that Arvid met his end through his own foolishness. Proceed on thy journey, halfling. Do not burden us with thy affairs."

  "Thank you, good sirs. May the light of Orion shine upon thee," Paliborn bid them farewell before continuing on his journey.

  Paliborn was filled with unease at the thought of lying to protect the woman who had fled town in a hurry. Though he had only defended Lena to avoid getting stuck in the town for interrogation, he couldn't help feeling guilty for deceiving the guards. As he gathered the clues that Lena had left behind, he couldn't shake off the feeling that her sudden departure was suspicious.

  "Ah, if only I had more time to investigate," he sighed, but decided against meddling further.

  When he reached the main gate of the town, Paliborn searched for the woman and the girl but they were nowhere in sight. So he stationed himself at a vantage point and scanned the roads that snaked through the fields below, watching for any sign of them. He spotted a horse and a mule trotting southeast, following the prescribed course. That was a good sign, Paliborn thought. He spurred his pony horse and set off in pursuit. In less than an hour, he caught up with them on a path winding through the cornfields.

  "Good day, Eli. Would you care to meet my trusty steed?"

  Allendra, riding behind her aunt, turned to look and beamed when she saw the halfling and the beautiful pony with a lustrous coat of milk-brown and a mane that gleamed like spikes of gold. Lena didn't even spare a glance back, and Paliborn could almost sense her displeasure.

  "Wow, this is a splendid pony. What is its name?"

  "Monu Monu."

  "Monu Monu? Does it have a meaning?"

  "Aye, it means 'brighter than the shine of the sun'. The Speaker of the Galanadel Elves gifted her to me."

  "Is that so? Have you really been to the Galanadel Woods?" asked the little girl incredulously, her eyes shining with wonder.

  "Indeed, I have. Though I was a bit of an intruder at first. They didn't welcome me with open arms, but over time, we grew accustomed to each other's ways. The Galanadel Elves are not as haughty as some might think. They are beautiful and wise, and their songs and poems are enchanting. I listened to them, and they listened to my tales of the road. In the end, we came to understand each other."

  "You must tell me all about it on our journey," said Allendra, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  "Agreed. And Monu Monu here is no mere pony. She is a rare breed, half horse and half pony, with special gifts just like us." Paliborn winked.

  Allendra giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink.

  "Well, where are we headed, my lady? Shall we cross the Galanadel River and venture towards Dareson Pass or Quarter Wood? So long as we avoid traversing Quarter Wood at night, all will be well," Paliborn inquired, attempting to initiate a discussion with Lena.

  However, the woman remained silent, fully aware that the question was directed towards her. Paliborn heaved a deep sigh, choosing not to dwell on it and letting matters be.

  The road continued to meander mainly downhill through the vast fields for several hours. With Pal's guidance, they easily crossed the Galanadel River at a shallow point where the flow rate had decreased considerably. The seemingly endless fields spread around them on either side, mostly consisting of cornfields with occasional pumpkin and beet fields. Southern Galantry was known for its vast farmlands, where workers from nearby villages toiled under the orders of a few landlords. Although it wasn't harvest season yet, the fields were mostly empty.

  As they came to a lonely crossroads atop a small hill, Lena finally spoke up. "We'll take a break here," she announced. It was the first time she had spoken during the journey.

  The southern afternoon was a tumultuous one, with the sun battling against the clouds and the wind. Upon reaching the apex of a low hill, they sought refuge in the cool shade of an ancient willow tree. Despite it being early spring, the heat was unforgiving. Occasionally, a strong gust would blow in from the north, causing the clouds to clump together in a foreboding manner.

  Paliborn withdrew a leather canteen, took a sip, and offered it to Allendra.

  "What is this?" asked the little girl, her surprise evident as she watched the halfling's lips turn red from the liquid.

  "Beet juice," Paliborn replied with a grin.

  "I do not want any," Allendra grimaced.

  "Fear not, my dear. I am not a vampire, and this is not blood," the halfling reassured her.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The little girl chuckled as Paliborn mimicked a vampire, trying to lighten the mood. "A halfling vampire could not scare anyone," she jested.

  "Vegetables are crucial for your growth, Eli," Paliborn intoned, his voice morphing into a half-creepy, half-funny tone.

  "You sound just like my aunt," Allendra giggled, her laughter infectious.

  Paliborn continued to entertain the little girl with his jokes, while also keeping a watchful eye on the enigmatic witch-woman.

  Lena sat alone, restless and nervous, suffocating with her thoughts. She had killed a man. It was her first time. Or was it? Didn't she indirectly cause her sister's death and Alex's descent into madness? Back then, she had blindly followed her master's orders, ignorant of the consequences. But this time was different. In her years of exile, she had become overwhelmed, and her anger and frustration had led her to act recklessly. And it felt good, exhilarating even. It was as if meeting the Darkest One in the tent had awakened something within her, charging her with new purpose. She was a true witch now, with a mission to live for. Let them hate her. Lena was ready to face the consequences. The games could begin. She was ready to play her part.

  Watching from a distance, Paliborn could see the turmoil in Lena's eyes. After a while, he could no longer resist and approached her.

  "Did something happen at the inn last night?" he asked, using his best diplomacy.

  The woman shot him a tense look. Paliborn couldn't help but suspect she was one of those human supremacists, who likely supported Emperor Malore, one of the Three Kings. "The town guards say a man named Arvid is dead," Paliborn continued.

  "So what?" Lena replied dismissively. "Should I know him and feel sorry for him? I've barely spent a month in that godsforsaken town, and I don't know anyone there."

  "Were you at the inn all night?" Paliborn pressed on.

  Lena nodded her head vaguely, a defiant glint in her eyes.

  "How did you hurt your hand?" Paliborn inquired, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

  "Why must I answer you, halfling? Am I a prisoner, and you my guard?" Lena retorted, her voice laced with disdain.

  Paliborn pressed his lips together, a surge of vexation and apprehension sweeping over him. He had so much to expound upon, so much to divulge regarding the weightiness of their voyage, the gravity of Sandman's involvement, and the young girl's extraordinary endowment that could devolve into a bane if she neglected the requisite tutelage. Yet, he opted to hold his tongue, sensing something sinister about Lena that sent a chill down his spine.

  Paliborn walked away, his thoughts deep in contemplation, and rejoined Allendra at the base of the tree. She was studying a cluster of white, long-stemmed mushrooms, her fingers hovering tentatively above them.

  "Are these poisonous?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

  Paliborn cast a cursory glance at the mushrooms, his expression pensive. "Indeed they are," he replied gravely, his tone low and solemn. "They are known as the angel of death mushrooms. Their toxic properties take effect within half a day, and their victims, the frail and the strong alike, suffer for three, sometimes four days before succumbing."

  Allendra's eyes widened, and she delicately plucked the mushrooms from the ground, slipping them into her pocket with a practiced, almost surreptitious motion, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Paliborn, who was preoccupied with observing Lena.

  As she stood up and moved over to the pony, her fingers absently stroking the creature's soft mane, Allendra caught sight of a curious tool hanging from the saddle. "Pray tell, this tool in your possession, what do you call it?" Allendra inquired, gesturing to the curved object.

  Pal stepped over to the pony, his movements fluid and graceful, and removed the weapon from its scabbard. It was an exotic implement, fashioned from a curious blend of wood and metal, with a sharp, curved hook on one end.

  "This, my lil' fair lady, is a xistera. It may seem like a common racket to you, but it is much more than that," Paliborn explained, swinging the instrument in a graceful arc.

  "A racket? For playing ball?" Allendra guessed.

  "Indeed, it is. But in times of battle, I have found it to be quite effective as a weapon as well," the halfling replied with a hint of pride.

  From his pouches, Paliborn withdrew several spherical objects and presented them to Allendra. "These are my stone bullets," he proclaimed.

  Allendra took a closer look at the objects and corrected him, "No, these are made of clay, not stone."

  "Aye, my lady, you are right. These are my clay bullets," Paliborn said with a nod of his head.

  Allendra then proposed, "Why don't you demonstrate your skill with this remarkable tool, Pal?"

  "What's my target?" he asked.

  "That scarecrow ahead," Allendra pointed. "Aim for its head."

  "Pray tell, let's hope the landowner isn't lurking nearby," Paliborn murmured, with a hint of unease.

  Then he obliged, taking a stone from his pouch and placing it in the metal inner groove of the xistera. He then fitted a specially made leather glove on his right hand and mounted the wooden handle of the racket there. With a confident step back and a powerful swing forward, he released the clay stone towards a scarecrow ahead with its pumpkin head as a target.

  The clay bullet flew through the air, shattering the scarecrow's pumpkin head into pieces and sending it tumbling several meters away. The crows perched on the railing's rod arms fled in terror as the distance between Pal and the target was at least ninety feet.

  Allendra cheered and applauded, thoroughly impressed with the halfling's skill. "Truly amazing, Pal! You have quite the talent," she praised.

  "It was my pleasure to entertain you, my lil' fair lady," Paliborn replied with a gracious bow.

  The halfling was about to sheathe his exotic weapon when the sound of galloping horses reached his ears. His intuition urged him to hold on, and he waited. Soon, four riders emerged from the Dareson Pass Road to the south.

  "Go to your aunt, Eli," Paliborn commanded.

  "But..." Allendra protested.

  "Come here, Eli!" The woman's tone was urgent, and the girl promptly complied. Allendra began to pack her belongings in haste.

  As the men drew closer, their disheveled appearance became apparent: their hair and beards were tangled and unkempt, and their clothes were threadbare and torn. One of the riders bore a bow, while another wielded a long sword. The weaker of the lot clutched a spear, while the largest of them carried a double-edged axe.

  The willow tree loomed on a gentle slope beside the winding road. Paliborn sized up the approaching men, and with steely determination, he sprang into action. On foot, he charged down the path to confront them head-on.

  A weather-beaten man with a scarred visage stepped forth and surveyed the halfling with a derisive grin.

  "What's this, a wee one hired as a bodyguard for this fine lady?"

  His companions chuckled in unison, but Paliborn remained silent and gazed steadily at the man.

  "Have you a drink or some sustenance to share, little man?" inquired the scarred man.

  Paliborn shook his head in the negative.

  "A shame, for it seems you don't wish to share. Perhaps you'd be willing to share the woman, eh lads?" The group erupted in laughter.

  Without turning his head, Paliborn spoke with composure, "You go ahead. I'll catch up with you soon enough."

  Lena slowly helped the girl onto the horse, coaxing her to acquiesce.

  "It's a lovely day for a ride. I suggest you all make your way, and we'll do the same," Paliborn advised them in a gentle tone.

  "Look at the little man, trying to scare us with his courage," said the leader and the rest jeered.

  "Aye, he's as stubborn as the dwarf we caught at the gate, McGraw," bellowed the bulky, bald man from the rear. The lanky, tall archer beside him grinned.

  With a step backwards, Paliborn commanded, "Leave, Eli. I'll meet you soon, I promise."

  The woman mounted the horse, and the men's jovial expressions turned sullen. The leader signaled to the archer, who reached for his bow. Before the archer could even draw an arrow from his quiver, Paliborn made a swift semicircle with his loaded xistera. The stone bullet struck the man in the forehead, sending him flying from his horse to the ground.

  The big bald man beside the archer quickly dismounted and bellowed in fury, brandishing his ax. The youngest of the group, a red-haired, pale-faced bandit carrying a spear, remained frozen in shock. Meanwhile, the leader attempted to ride his horse over the halfling, but Paliborn was too quick. He sprang onto the natural stone steps behind him and climbed to higher ground.

  By taking the high ground, Paliborn had the advantage. He loaded another stone bullet into his weapon and took aim at the charging ax man. The distance was short, and the clay stone struck the man in the chest, causing him to stumble, but not fall. It was enough to buy Paliborn some time, though. He glanced back to check on the others.

  "Pal, don't leave me! Please help her, aunt Lena!" cried Allendra, tears streaming down her face.

  Lena, on the other hand, cast a disinterested glance at the halfling before urging her horse down the hillside to the north. She had abandoned the mule carrying her belongings.

  "At least the woman knows how to ride," Paliborn muttered under his breath with a sigh.

  The halfling sprinted towards the willow branch with every fiber of his being. His breaths were ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. He clutched his last remaining bullet in one hand, ready to use it if necessary. Meanwhile, the young boy with the spear had already reached the top of the hill.

  "The cowards send their weakest to do their bidding," the halfling muttered under his breath.

  Paliborn drew a semicircle in the dirt and tossed a clay stone with precision. The young boy leaped backward and vanished from sight, reducing the number of adversaries to two. The halfling tossed his xistera aside, realizing its uselessness in this fight, and drew his trusty dagger.

  Paliborn positioned himself behind the sturdy trunk of a nearby tree, taking a deep breath as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps.

  The long swordsman and the ax-wielding brute were closing in, their faces twisted in determination. Pal made a split-second decision and hurled his dagger in the direction of one of his foes. The bald, burly man was caught off guard by the expertly thrown blade, which sliced through his leather armor as if it were mere parchment and lodged itself deep in his heart. He collapsed to the ground, dead.

  "You have no weapons left, halfling. What do you plan to do now?" the surviving opponent sneered.

  Paliborn flashed a toothy grin at his opponent, who was now eyeing him with a mix of anger, fear, and newfound respect.

  "You'd be surprised at what I have hidden away in these pouches," the halfling replied, his hand casually drifting to one of the many pouches that dangled from his diagonal belts.

  * * *

  The witch woman and the little girl journeyed on without pause, their path stretching out before them in a relentless expanse of endless terrain. Lena rode tirelessly, pushing through until the merging of day and night. She persisted until her eyes grew blurry and her mind began to falter, and their steed, a loyal companion on their perilous journey, collapsed from exhaustion.

  As dusk descended upon them, they stumbled upon a small town, a mere speck in the vast wilderness. But the respite was short-lived, as the little girl's cries filled the night, her sobs echoing through the dark. Still, they pressed on, relentless in their quest.

  "Let us wait for Pal," cried Allendra, her voice shaking with emotion.

  But the witch woman remained silent, her face a mask of unyielding determination. And then, with a suddenness that shocked them both, she struck the little girl hard across the face, the sound of the blow echoing through the night. It was not the first time that Allendra had been subjected to her aunt's flashing abuse, but this time was different. Blood trickled from her mouth, and tears streamed down her face, but she did not cry. The little girl resolved to keep her silence until the reckoning day.

  With the first light of dawn, they set off once more, galloping at breakneck speed on a new mount. The rain came down in sheets, drenching them to the bone as they traversed a region that was oppressively humid. They passed through rice fields, marshes, and reeds, a treacherous landscape that seemed determined to swallow them whole. And yet they persevered, never wavering from their goal.

  Days slid by, and still they journeyed on, spending each night in a different town. As they descended southward, the sky grew darker, the clouds hanging heavy overhead like a shroud of impending doom.

  Five days passed since their separation from the halfling, and they finally arrived at a town by the sea. For the first time in her life, the little girl beheld the vast expanse of the ocean, its waves crashing upon the shore with a rhythmic pulse. In a secluded harbor, they boarded a medium-sized sailboat, its hull black as pitch and ominous as the night.

  As they sailed out to the open sea, Allendra's gaze scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of the halfling. But with each passing moment, her hope dwindled, until it was little more than a flicker in the darkness. The battle of frustration and despair raged within her, a long and winding road of endless struggle.

  "Sometimes you are left alone, with naught but your own strength to carry you through," she murmured to herself, a mantra of resilience to guide her through the unknown.

  The rain continued to pour down upon them, mingling with the tears that flowed freely from her eyes. And yet, despite the darkness and the uncertainty, something began to change within her. A sense of inner strength and determination grew, a force that would guide her through the trials and tribulations to come.