Dance: Ten; Charisma: Three by Brian Olsen

Author:Brian Olsen [Olsen, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

Brigand Woods was huge. Brigand Forest, more like it. Brigand National Park, maybe. I’d been wandering for almost a half hour and I’d seen nothing but tree after tree after tree. There was a faint path at the point where I’d entered the woods, near the spot where Korant believed his son had been taken, but I’d lost that twenty minutes ago. Since then I’d tried to go in a straight line, but the sun was low and it was getting dark. I’d never been good at navigating wilderness under the best of circumstances, even places near where I grew up, and these were far from the best of circumstances. Twice already I’d caught glimpses of the village through the trees, suggesting I kept turning around somehow. A forest ranger, I was not.

I wasn’t moving anywhere near fast enough to worry about the fatigued debuff, but I decided to take a rest anyway due to my sheer mental exhaustion. I slid my backpack and lute off, plopped down in the dirt, and rested my back against a nice, thick tree trunk.

“Man. Fuck this.”

I picked up a twig and threw it. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and rested my head.

I’d long since missed that audition. Even though people here had heard of New York, they talked about it like it was far away. Once I got past the goblins, how many more days would it take me to get there? And when I did, how would I even begin to explain where I’d been to my family, my friends, and, most importantly, my agent?

I’d never work again. Final curtain on my Broadway career before the opening number had even finished.

“Everything sucks.”

Something growled, a few feet to my right.

“Fuck!”

I jumped to my feet. Whatever it was growled again, this time adding a low bark.

The tree blocked my view. Slowly, I reached down for my bag. The growl intensified but didn’t get closer, so I picked the bag up, stuck my hand into the top, and thought about my new knife. The heavy iron dagger jumped into my hand and I slung the bag over my back again. I briefly contemplated getting the lute too, but decided to forget it. If I had to run and leave it behind, no big loss.

I stepped out from the tree and saw the wolf that had been growling at me. Its fur was mostly gray, with a few splotches of black and a white underbelly. Some weird trick of the light made it look like it was sparkling, little multicolored flickers. They flashed as often as a firefly would, and as brightly, but all over its body and in every color of the rainbow – a burst of red on its left side, then green on its back right paw, then blue on its muzzle. I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, but it was a pretty effect. I’d have loved to get a closer look, if the wolf wasn’t so intimidating.

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