Page 22 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
One lizardkin stared at the bard like she was on fire, and the other covered her face to hold back a laugh. Luckily, the stoneskin wombat was focusing solely on the bard and her carrots.
The monster made its decision and waddled over, grabbing the bundle in its mouth and gently headbutting her hand. It was infinitely superior to it butt-butting her, so she gleefully opened her palm. When the stoneskin wombat leaned in, she gave into temptation and gave the giant hairy monster head scratches. It particularly enjoyed it behind the right ear.
She ignored the “Is this really happening?” comment from direction of the Dark Horde. She had more important matters to attend to.
“Thank you for your understanding, Oh Noble Stoneskin.” She lavished adoration on the creature. After being tempted all morning by her travel companion, this was exactly what she’d needed.
There was a moment where everyone waited, watching with bated breath, until the stoneskin wombat decided it had had enough pets. It snorted, rolled away suddenly, and happily waddled into the underbrush with its prize carrots.
Everyone let out a collective breath.
Brownie just smiled. Music and food were both wonderful tools to calm a savage beast, and she armed herself with both while traveling.
The lizardkin stood at attention, and when it was obvious that the stoneskin wombat wasn’t coming back, addressed the pair.
“Commander Rufusss!” the one on the left, with short, spiky blue hair and tinted orange scales greeted. “Minstrel Bronwynn. Thank you for your aid.”
Rufus nodded, his demeanor firm and commanding. “Core Vandith, report.”
The simple word had both soldiers stand up even straighter. Core Vandith stated, “We’re returning from a sssupply drop off at Kith Bog for the fire damage repairsss. Two more, and the village will be as good as new. We also loaded up a shipment of peat from the bog and dropped one off in Thistlecrick. Thisss here is bound for the Black Fortresss.”
“Good,” Rufus acknowledged. “Then we won’t keep you.”
Brownie regretted the destruction of the village. She’d warned Henrietta and Keith about the assassins, but she couldn’t have imagined that they would light the village on fire.
She waved at the Dark Horde as they got everyone back into formation and continued up the road.
Rufus only relaxed again when the army was out of sight. As his eyes flicked slightly, she assumed he was reading a notification.
“Do you think Thistlecrick is still up the road?” Brownie asked a few minutes later, when Rufus was no longer focused on his character sheet. “I’d like to stop by the hot springs if you aren’t in a hurry?”
“The only guarantee is that it’ll be on the north side of the Great Road.” He shrugged. The forest was notorious for moving around. The only constants were the great roads traveling east to west and north to south, and the castle at the center. “And I’ve no aversion to a stopover. It’ll be good to check in with Derilla now that he’s out of diapause. We barely exchanged words at the wedding.”
The General of the North, Derilla Vane, was an arachne who looked like a pointy-eared, sharp-toothed man above the waist, and a spider below. He came up to Brownie’s nose in height.
Brownie smiled. “Then let’s hope it’s still between us and Kith Bog. I’d love a relaxing soak!”
CHAPTER 9
The Smell of Wet Dog
Rufus
I’d said that I would be alright with a hot spring stopover in Thistlecrick, but I was, in fact,notalright.
There was something so unforgettable, so recognizable, sofragrantabout the smell of a wet dog. And I was that dog—wolf. Whatever.
So when we actually arrived at the hot springs an hour later, I excused myself to go find Derilla Vane while Minstrel Bronwynn headed for the baths.
“I’m surprised to see you this far from your dungeon.” Derilla smirked, pouring me a cup of dewdrop petal tea. The Naga clans had escorted me into the deepest part of the estate, to the private dwelling of the arachne general. He sat in his usual spot, overlooking the beautiful mountainous hillside.
I accepted the cup, refusing the offer of cream, and considered how much to tell him. I was technically his superior, but the last time we’d battled was four years ago at the winter solstice, and since then, he’d grown more powerful.
On the years Derilla couldn’t attend due to his diapause, the arachne’s apprentice Merik of the Naga clan would compete as a proxy. He won the position every time, but dared not claim the title himself. Everyone continued to call Derilla the general even while asleep. The arachne was terrifying, and could probably defeat evenmein a fair fight.
Not that Derilla ever fought fair.
At this time, he was neither my superiornormy king. I ignored the building pressure churning in my stomach from a combination of notifications blinking in the corner of my eye and Derilla’s passive [Fear] perk. This was why I hated leaving my dungeon.
