A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

6 | Outnumbered

Content advisory for moderate violence and mild gore.

Ben approached the wagon, feet squishing in soft mud and splashing through puddles, and whistled softly to let Fann know he was coming. Unlacing the flap covering the back, he drew it aside to reveal the wolf, who wagged his tail and greeted him with excited kisses, licking his face.

A weight lifted from Ben's heart by this show of simple affection, and he laughed. Scratching Fann's ears, he shook his head at himself. What had he expected? A declaration of love? Even if they shared a connection, that didn't mean anything else would change.

Ben's smile faded. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but in truth, things had already changed; he just hadn't known falling in love would hurt so much.

"At least I've got you and Sprout," he said. Although these days the little twig seemed as attached to Scamp as it did to Ben (last he'd seen they were curled up together on a blanket), and he doubted Fann wanted to travel all the way to Ardensfall; the city was no place for a wolf

And what about once they'd completed their mission? He could hardly imagine Tallon bringing him to Sagehand, or presenting him as anything more than a valet if he did.

Ben sighed; self pity was the last thing he needed.

Fann whined and nudged his hand, and Ben received a clear mental image of the beast doing its business.

"Alright, alright," Ben said, laughing again. "You must be hungry, too. Here we go." Carefully, he lifted the young wolf in his arms and set it on its three good feet. "Try not to get your bandages too wet, alright?"

Fann took off at a three-legged trot towards a copse of scrubby half-dead trees, and Ben watched him for a moment before turning back to the wagon. They'd left most of their supplies and provisions within, including their store of food, and Ben mused how lucky they were the wolf was well-behaved.

Dried and cured meat was a premium item, and he couldn't simply feed it to a wild animal without consulting his companions first, so he took only a sausage link and one of the precious eggs, each carefully wrapped and nestled within a basket, which would have been his own portion at breakfast.

Grabbing his tin plate from the clever rack on the side of the wagon, where they stored their cookware and dishes, he broke the sausage into little pieces and cracked the egg over it.

"Fann!" he called softly.

The wolf came trotting over, back end hopping along awkwardly on one leg, and Ben felt a wave of gratitude when he offered it the plate.

"It's not much," he said. "But we can hunt later—or Tallon can—and if we get something, you can share the innards with Scamp."

He extended his hand to pet Fann's head, and the wolf growled. Ben drew back, surprised, but then saw that Fann gaze went past him, back towards the ruined house and the scraggly forest beyond. In his mind, he sensed Fann's warning of danger as the wolf growled again.

"We better tell Tallon," Ben said, and started for the house. Before he'd taken three steps, a high-pitched scream pierced the air.

Maisie.

Breaking into a run, Ben sprinted towards the sound—Tallon could hardly have failed to hear it—and drew the short dagger he wore on his belt.

Despite his injury, Fann kept up, and led the way into the withered woods. They hadn't gone more than forty yards when they crested a small rise and found Maisie, an armload of wood scattered beside her, holding off five large men with her little knife.