We decided to stay put for the night since most of the day had already been swallowed by hunting and cooking. At dawn, we'd hit the road again. I even offered to make Doyle a nice little meal out of dried meat, not out of kindness, don't get me wrong, but because those "special mushrooms" I'd gathered just for him were starting to beg for a grand debut.
"Careful… dump too many of those in and he might start seeing pink elephants in the sky… eh, whatever. Go ahead. At least he'll die laughing," Mnex muttered while I casually ignored him and tossed every last mushroom into the pot. I followed another one of his so-called genius recipes, and soon the food was ready.
Doyle sniffed the air and hummed. "Smells good," he said before scooping up a bite. I just sat there, silently watching him.
"Guess I should share this time," he said, handing me the bowl.
"Oh, no thanks. Ate too much earlier. My stomach's staging a revolt," I replied, clutching my belly as if I'd swallowed a rock.
"No way. You cooked it, you taste it," Doyle insisted, shoving a spoonful toward my mouth and clamping it shut before I could escape.
"Young lord," he said with a raised brow, "I may look dumb, but I'm not stupid enough to miss what kind of mushrooms these are," he added, pinching my nose for emphasis.
"Relax," Mnex cut in, completely unhelpful. "One bite won't kill you. Worst case, I'll purge the toxins later."
I gave up fighting and swallowed. Once Doyle pulled back, I narrowed my eyes. "Now you eat it. All of it. Or tonight, while you're snoring, I'll light a purple fire straight down your throat."
He looked at the bowl. Then at me. Back at the bowl. Back at me.
This silent standoff repeated a few times before I arched a brow that screamed don't test me. Finally, he sighed and took a spoonful. "Had it once or twice before. I'll survive," he said with a shrug.
I made sure he kept eating, and before long, we were both giggling for absolutely no reason at all.
Mnex? You said you'd purge the toxins.
"Hahahaha… isn't this way more fun though?"
You little gremlin… heh, fine. You might have a point.
"Kikikiki, young lord? Why are you giggling?"
"Why are you giggling?"
"Kikikiki… dunno?"
And just like that, under the moonlight, the forest echoed with our laughter.
After what felt like ages of laughing at absolutely nothing, Doyle's tone shifted, just a hint more serious this time.
"Sir Theo once told me a story," he began. "Back when he and Count Godfrey were young, they traveled all across the kingdom. One night, just like this one, full moon above them, they stumbled on a man in the forest…"
"If this is a horror story, don't bother. I don't scare that easily," I cut in.
"Listen first… The man changed. Right in front of them. Grew bigger, twisted, and turned into a massive wolf."
"Huh? A werewolf?"
He chuckled. "Werewolf? Nah. We call them Lycans. Anyway, this Lycan attacked. And did you know Count Godfrey can't even use resolve? Yet he still threw himself between Theo and the beast. The guts on that man…"
"Wait… is this story real?" I asked, leaning in despite myself.
"What, you've never heard of magical creatures?"
"You mean like goblins? Elves?"
"Gob-what? Elves? Those are fairy tales for toddlers. I'm talking about the real freaks out there. Most are some wizard's botched experiments, sure. But Lycans?" Doyle's eyes darkened slightly. "They're real." Then he gave me a sidelong look. "And you, young lord… you're over here trying to poison me. Smart kid, lousy morals."
I scoffed. "Oh, spare me the lecture! Days without a proper meal, while you stuffed dried meat in your mouth right in front of me, and now you're suddenly the poster boy for ethics?!"
"Hey, I wasn't enjoying it either," he said defensively. "Orders from Sir Theo. Said you needed to make your first hunt on your own."
Ah. I finally put it together. "Let me guess… family tradition?"
Doyle just nodded, letting out a long sigh. "Night watch is mine. Get some sleep, young lord. We move at dawn."
The sun hadn't even cleared the horizon when Doyle jabbed me awake. After cleaning up camp, we saddled our horses and headed out. This morning, for the first time, he actually shared a strip of dried meat with me.
Munching on it in the saddle, I asked, "That story from last night… are there other creatures like those Lycans?"
Doyle yawned, tugging at his belt lazily. "Plenty. Though most folk live and die without ever seeing one."
"Like what?"
"There's something called a Mirelurker in the swamps. Hides in the muck, and if you fall in, you don't climb back out. And on old battlefields, they say mist-spirits drift around. Wraithkin, they're called. Most people think they're just scary campfire stories."
"You've seen them?"
Doyle's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Some of them, yeah. And others? Well… if you value your limbs, don't go saying hi to a Hollow Stag. Ever."
"A what now?"
"Dead deer. Rotting flesh hanging off their bones, empty sockets for eyes. They attack anything that moves. So pray today's hunt is just rabbits, young lord."
Mnex? Any chance Doyle's just making this stuff up?
"You can shoot fire between your buttcheeks, but zombie deer are where you draw the line?"
…Fair enough. Yeah, why not.
We rode in silence for hours, the sun climbing higher as the forest swallowed the horizon. Eventually, the trees broke just enough for a massive river to cut through our path, glinting like liquid steel under the daylight.
"We're here," Doyle said with a long exhale. "From this point on, it's your hunting ground. We'll cross together, but after that? It's all on you. Take your time if you need to, but no one's going home until you've proven you can bring something down."
I nodded, already imagining how easy this would be with Pulse. Finding prey couldn't possibly be that hard, right?
"Finding is easy," Mnex piped up dryly. "Catching is where you'll embarrass yourself."
I ignored the jab and focused on the more pressing question. "Okay… so, how exactly are we crossing this thing?"
Doyle shot me a smug look. "Usually merchants make this trip. It's not deep enough for a boat, but too deep and fast for a swim. So… genius, what's your plan?" He tilted his head, waiting.
I frowned. "Don't answer my question with a question, you smug mule. If I knew the answer, I wouldn't be asking you."
He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Good to know there's stuff you don't know." Then he added, voice dripping with mock importance, "Every year, traders mark a crossing. There's a rope stretched across the narrowest point. Hold onto it from horseback, and theoretically… we won't drown."
We soon found the spot, a fraying rope stretched taut across the churning water, swaying like it was one bad day away from snapping. Doyle tugged on it, and the fibers groaned in protest.
"This feels like a death wish," he muttered. "But it's the only option."
Back in the saddle, he gave me a serious look. "If you fall in, whatever you do, don't swallow the water."
"Why? Isn't it fresh?" I asked, peering at the murky flow.
"Close to the sea," he replied with a lopsided grin. "Tide's pushing in, makes it brackish."
"Sea?" My eyes widened. "We're that close?"
He smirked. "Yeah, and don't worry—I'm not about to explain what the sea is. Even you know that one… right?"
"Of course I do! Just… didn't realize it was nearby."
Before I could think too hard about it, Mnex practically squealed in my head. "Salt! We're near salt water! Do you have any idea how valuable salt is in this era? We could make a fortune!"
I could almost picture myself bowing. Mnex, once again, you're a money-making genius.
The rope creaked ominously, like it wanted to remind us it wasn't built for this.
"If this thing snaps, guess you'll get a free swimming lesson," Mnex chirped.
Can you not tempt fate right now?!
"Young lord, hang on tight!" Doyle barked as we urged the horses forward.
The current was vicious, tugging at us with every step. Even astride my horse, water climbed up to my knees, pushing hard enough to feel like invisible hands trying to drag us away. The rope was our only lifeline and it sounded like it was dying.
Then, with a sound like a sigh of defeat, the rope gave way.
404 Neigh Found flicked his ears and plodded on, utterly unbothered, while I clung to his neck like a terrified barnacle.
"Don't worry! Just hold on!" Doyle yelled over the roar of water.
I buried my face in the horse's mane, whispering, "Good boy, don't you dare throw me off… please…"
Magic or not, in this current I was as helpless as a stone. One slip, and I was gone.
At last, hooves hit solid ground. The horses slogged out of the river, water slapping around their legs with each heavy step. I was still wrapped around 404 Neigh Found's neck when Doyle rode past, eyebrows raised, grin smug enough to slap off his face.
"Most people don't make river crossings this dramatic," he said, oozing mockery.
"Brilliant observation," I muttered darkly. "Do me a favor and get that rope fixed before we go back."
"Oh-ho, giving orders now? Yes sir, right away sir!" he bellowed the last words just to get under my skin.
I slid off the horse with a groan and muttered to Mnex, Alright… hunt time?
"First, do a pulse. Let's see what's actually out here."
I crouched, pressed my hand to the ground, and let the magic hum through me. After a few moments, Mnex reported, "Busy place. Plenty of movement in that forest ahead. Hard to count how many, but it's not just one or two. Definitely prime hunting grounds."
I lifted my head and called out, "Hey Doyle, I'll scout around. You can handle camp, right?"
He snapped a theatrical salute. "Yes sir, alright sir!" and even added a ridiculous bow for good measure.
Somehow, Doyle always found new ways to dig under my nerves. But fine… just one, maybe two more days. Then I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.
"Or he won't have to deal with you," Mnex snickered.
Thanks, Mnex. Exactly what I needed to hear.