Chapter 17
WINDY
As we trudge along the muddy road, the weight of our recent encounters hangs heavy in the air. The dense forest that has been our constant companion for days gradually begins to thin, revealing rolling hills and scattered farmsteads in the distance. A sense of anticipation builds within our group as we spot the first signs of civilization - a weathered signpost pointing toward the town of Millbrook.
"Thank the gods," Wallace mutters, adjusting his grip on Juniper. "I was beginning to think we'd be sleeping under the stars again tonight."
I nod in agreement, feeling the ache in my muscles. The promise of a real bed, no matter how lumpy, is enough to put a spring in my step. As we crest a final hill, the town of Millbrook spreads out before us – a collection of timber and stone buildings nestled in a valley, smoke rising from chimneys, and the distant sound of life reaching our ears.
I can’t believe we traveled so far with Juniper so injured, but he insisted this couldn’t wait.
"Let's hope they have a decent inn," Warrick says, his eyes scanning the town's silhouette. "And that they're friendly to travelers."
With renewed energy, we make our way down the hill towards Millbrook. The cobblestone streets are slick with recent rain, and the scent of wet earth mingles with the promise of warm food and soft beds. Juniper leans heavily on Wallace, his face pale and drawn from his injuries.
"Just a little further," I encourage, though I'm not sure if I'm reassuring Juniper or myself.
As we near the center of town, my eyes are drawn to a building with a swinging sign – The Prancing Pony.
An inn, thank the gods.
But as we approach, I hear raised voices and the unmistakable sound of a scuffle.
Great, just what we need after everything else.
"Maybe we should find another inn," Warrick suggests, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.
I shake my head. "This seems to be the only one in town. Besides, I'm too tired to walk any further. Whatever's happening, we can handle it."
As we push open the door, the scene that greets us is both comical and pitiful. A man, clearly deep in his cups, is being forcibly removed by a burly innkeeper and what looks like half the tavern's patrons.
"But I haven't finished my drink!" the drunk man slurs, his arms flailing wildly.
The innkeeper, a stout man with a magnificent mustache, growls, "You finished your last drink three hours ago, Cedric. It's time for you to go home."
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. All I want is a hot meal and a soft bed.
Is that too much to ask?
As the group manhandles the drunk towards the door, his bleary eyes land on me. His whole demeanor changes in an instant.
"Well, hello there, beautiful," he drawls, somehow managing to escape his captors and stumble towards me. "Has anyone ever told you that your hair shines like moonlight on a silver lake?"
I arch an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Has anyone ever told you that your breath smells like a dragon's armpit?"
Wallace and Warrick flank me, both growling low in their throats. The sound reminds me of angry bears, and I have to stifle a laugh at the mental image.
The drunk – Cedric, apparently – either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the two large, angry men on either side of me. He leans in, his balance precarious at best. "You know, I may be drunk, but you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning, I'll be sober, but you'll still be beautiful."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head. "And tomorrow morning, you'll also have a splitting headache and probably no memory of making a complete fool of yourself. How fortunate for you."
Wallace steps forward, his massive frame dwarfing Cedric. "I believe the lady made it clear she's not interested. Perhaps you should take the innkeeper's advice and go home."
Cedric blinks owlishly at Wallace as if just noticing him. "And who might you be? Her keeper?"
Warrick snorts. "Trust me, mate, she doesn't need a keeper. But if you don't back off, you might need a healer.”
I place a hand on each of their arms, partly to restrain them and partly to keep myself from doing something I might regret. "Gentlemen, please. I'm sure our friend here was just leaving. Weren't you, Cedric?"
The drunk man looks between the three of us, his alcohol-addled brain slowly processing the situation. Finally, he throws his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted. But you're missing out on a good time, sweetheart."
As he stumbles towards the door, I call after him, "I'm sure I'll cry myself to sleep tonight over the missed opportunity."
With Cedric finally gone, I turn to the innkeeper, who's watching us with a mix of gratitude and wariness. "Now that the entertainment's over, I don't suppose you have any rooms available? And perhaps some food that doesn't taste like it's been sitting out since last week?"
The innkeeper's mustache twitches in what might be amusement. "Aye, we've got rooms. And the stew's fresh, I'll have you know. Made it meself this morning."
As we follow him to a table, I can't help but mutter, "Well, let's hope your cooking skills are better than your patron-vetting skills."
Wallace chuckles beside me. "You know, Windy, one of these days that sharp tongue of yours is going to get us into trouble."
I flash him a grin. "Maybe. But it'll probably get us out of it, too."
As we settle in, Juniper looking relieved to finally be off his feet, I can't help but wonder what other colorful characters we'll encounter on this journey. If tonight is any indication, it's going to be a long, strange trip indeed.
The innkeeper brings over the steaming bowls of stew that smell quite appetizing. I'm about to take my first bite when a commotion near the bar catches my attention.
"I'm telling you, I saw it with my own eyes!" a grizzled old man shouts, slamming his fist on the counter. "A beast, big as a house, with eyes like burning coals!"
I exchange glances with Wallace and Warrick. "Should we ignore it or investigate?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
Wallace sighs. "You know we can't leave well enough alone."
I nod and call out, "Excuse me, sir. What's this about a beast?"
The old man whirls around, his rheumy eyes lighting up at finding a new audience.
He hobbles over to our table, pulling up a chair without invitation.
"Finally, someone who'll listen!" he exclaims. "It's been terrorizing the countryside for weeks now. Livestock gone missing, crops trampled, and just last night, it took old Widow Mable's entire chicken coop!"
Warrick leans in, intrigued. "And you've seen this beast yourself?"
The old man nods vigorously. "Aye, just last night. It was huge, I tell you! Fur black as midnight, claws like daggers, and–"
"And I'm sure it breathed fire and spoke in riddles too, eh, Gus?" the innkeeper interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Don't mind him, folks. Old Gus here sees monsters in his soup."
Gus bristles. "I know what I saw, Bart! And if someone doesn't do something soon, we'll all be in its belly!"
Just then, the inn's door bursts open, and a young woman rushes in, her face pale with fear. "It's here!" she cries. "The beast is in the village!"
The room erupts into chaos. Patrons scramble for the windows, some diving under tables, others rushing for the door.
I stand up. "Wallace, Warrick, with me. Juniper, stay here and help the innkeeper keep everyone calm."
As we step outside, the night air is filled with screams and the sound of breaking wood. A massive shadow moves at the end of the street, illuminated by the flickering light of a toppled brazier.
"Well," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "looks like Old Gus wasn't exaggerating after all."
Wallace draws his sword. "Any brilliant plans, oh great hero?"
I flash him a grin, adrenaline already coursing through my veins. "Oh, you know me. I thought we'd just charge in and hope for the best."
Warrick groans. "One of these days, that strategy is going to get us killed."
"Probably," I agree. "But not today. Come on!"
The beast turns towards us, its eyes glowing just as Gus described. It lets out a bone-chilling roar that seems to shake the very ground beneath our feet.
"Still think this was a good idea?" Wallace shouts over the noise.
I ready my magic, hoping it works right, and feel it crackle at my fingertips. "Ask me again if we survive this!"
As we charge towards the beast, I can't help but notice its bizarre appearance up close. It's like someone took a bear, a wolf, and a particularly angry rooster, threw them in a cauldron, and hoped for the best.
"What in the seven hells is that thing?" Warrick shouts, dodging a swipe from its massive claws.
"I don't know," I yell back, "but I bet it would make one hell of an omelet!"
Wallace groans as he parries another attack. "Is now really the time for jokes, Windy?"
"There's always time for jokes, Wallace. How else do you expect me to cope with the fact that we're fighting a creature that looks like it escaped from a deranged wizard's laboratory?"
The beast roars again, and I swear I can see bits of chicken feathers stuck between its teeth. It charges at us, moving with surprising speed for something so large.
"Split up!" I command. "Wallace, left! Warrick, right! I'll distract it from the front!"
As my companions move into position, I start weaving a spell, feeling the familiar tingle of magic in my fingertips.
Please don’t mess up!
"Hey, ugly!" I shout at the beast. "Did your mother mate with a feather duster, or are you just having a really bad hair day?"
The creature's eyes narrow, and it lunges at me with a snarl. I dive to the side, rolling in the mud and narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.
"Anytime now, boys!" I call out, scrambling to my feet.
Wallace and Warrick attack in unison, their blades flashing in the moonlight. The beast howls in pain and anger, whirling to face this new threat.
I seize the opportunity, channeling my magic into a blast of pure energy. It hits the creature square in the back, sending it stumbling forward, but under a pile of flowers.
"Nice shot!" Warrick yells, ducking under a wild swing from the beast. “But flowers?”
"Thanks!" I reply, readying another spell. "You know how my magic goes, at least I distracted him?"
The fight continues, a deadly dance of steel and magic against claw and fang. We're holding our own, but the beast seems tireless, shrugging off blows that would feel like a normal animal.
Suddenly, a voice rings out from behind us. "Stop! Don't hurt him!"
We all pause, even the beast, turning to see Juniper stumbling towards us, his face pale but determined.
"Juniper, what are you doing?" I hiss. "Get back inside!"
He ignores me, approaching the beast with his hands raised. "It's okay, boy. It's me. You remember me, don't you?"
To my utter astonishment, the creature's demeanor changes instantly. It whines softly, lowering its massive head to nuzzle Juniper's outstretched hand.
"Would someone like to explain what in the name of all that's holy is going on here?" Wallace demands, his sword still at the ready.
Juniper turns to us, a sheepish grin on his face. "Um, remember when I said I had a complicated past? Well, this is Fluffy. He's... kind of my pet."
There's a moment of stunned silence before I burst out laughing. "Fluffy? You named that monstrosity Fluffy?"
"He's not a monstrosity!" Juniper protests. "He's just... unique. And misunderstood."
I shake my head, still chuckling. "Only you, Juniper, could have a pet that looks like it crawled out of a nightmare and name it Fluffy."
As the adrenaline of the fight fades, I become aware of the gathering crowd of villagers, their faces filled with fear, awe, and confusion.
"Well," I say, addressing our ragtag group, "I suppose we owe these good people an explanation. And perhaps some compensation for any, ah, redecorating Fluffy might have done to their village."
Warrick groans. "This is going to be a long night, isn't it?"
I clap him on the shoulder. "Look on the bright side. At least the inn's stew will probably be cold by now. We've saved ourselves from that culinary adventure."
As we turn to face the crowd, Fluffy still nuzzling contentedly against Juniper, I can't help but wonder what other surprises our journey has in store. One thing's for certain – it's never going to be boring.