The very next morning, after a short walk, they knew they had come to their destination.

The trees grew wild here, unkempt and shaggy and thick, filling the forest with their growth. There were no bugs here to gnaw at their bark or chew their leaves. No deer to peel off greenery. No birds to strip their branches for nests. Only the trees, growing to obscene heights and blotting out the forest floor below with their branches. Dead wood coated the parts that Threadbare could see from the edge, with the occasional hardy vine or spit of weeds struggling to grow in the shadowy light that made it down through the canopy.

It felt unhealthy. And Threadbare was for once grateful that he had traded out his Shaman job a while ago, because he knew that it would have felt even worse.

“No animals,” Buttons said, quietly. “Can't even hear any bugs.”

“It's the lack of birds that gets me,” Glub said, scanning the treetops. “The threat's supposed to come from below, right? The things that move through the soil and attack people from underneath? Do they have the reach to get up into branches or the sky? Is that why we got no birds?”

“It means we can't escape into the trees,” Fluffbear said, saddling up Mopsy for the first time, and clambering on her cat's back. “We'll have to fight that stuff on the ground if it comes.”

“You know...” Buttons said, tapping her foot. “The quartermaster did give me these point oh oh oh seven league boots. I could activate them and run ahead. They let me go at about three meters a step, which is pretty freaking far for my legs. If there's something waiting for us in here I could stir it up and stand a pretty good chance at dodging while you kill it.”

Threadbare glanced at the others, and found them looking back at him. It irked him again, that feeling that it was wrong for him to be leading. But the time for arguing that was past, and they were in a very dangerous place now, so he knew he had to step up. “I don't think we should do that,” he told Buttons. “From what Fluffbear tells me we've lost too many lone Scouts here before. The best chance we have is sticking together, and helping each other out.”

Buttons nodded, but he saw her mouth twitch. Hiding disappointment? It seemed likely, so he tailored the words he was going to use for the next part. “But you're right, it's not a bad idea to have something run ahead to tempt the thing out. Apollyon, could you open your pack, please?”

Confused, Apollyon knelt down, unslung his pack, and opened it up. “Now how did these get here?”

“I put there there while you were sleeping. I spent some time in Bigstump crafting those,” Threadbare said, as Apollyon pulled out a handful of tiny stuffed mouse dolls. “But to get the most out of them, I'll have to leave the party. Fluffbear, you're the next best healer. I'll leave you in charge.”

“Oh! Okay,” Fluffbear nodded. “I'll keep everyone up, don't worry! But are you sure you want to leave my Aura?”

“I don't see a good way around it,” Threadbare said as he took the mice from Apollyon and whispered “Leave Party. Form Party. Animus, Animus, Animus...”

By themselves, the mice weren't impressive. But they weren't by themselves. They were extensions of his will, frail bodies given life by magic and boosted by his minion-buffing skills. Skills which wouldn't have activated if they hadn't been in his party. And since you could only have seven to a party, he soon had six little mice fanning out ahead of the main group, feet moving with blurred speed as they scampered out in a semi-circle.

“I won't be watching the back,” he cautioned as the toys and their living companions moved in. “Fluffbear? Who do you think should do that?”

“Glub,” she decided. “Make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Threadbare smiled to himself. That was the choice he would have made.

Apollyon tilted his head, and searched through the pack. “I'm not sure if I should bring this the rest of the way. It's pretty heavy and most of it's rations. I can carry a day's worth, carry the dungeoneering supplies just in case, and leave the bulk of it here. What do you think, Sir?”

Fluffbear considered, then nodded. “I don't think wild game comes this close to the forest so that's fine. And maybe we won't get attacked if we're not carrying much food.”

Apollyon nodded, and stowed the pack under a tree, and then there was nothing left to do but head into the forest.

They shuffled around, with the mice leading the way and Threadbare right behind them. Buttons and Dracosnack each had left and right flank respectively, and Fluffbear rode Mopsy in the middle, next to a wary Apollyon. Glub was in the rear, glancing around and moving with a stealth that belied his webbed feet. And within minutes they had left the treeline behind, and vanished into the depths of the tangled forest.

About half an hour later, the pack they'd left behind wiggled. The lower part shifted, bumping around, as the thing hidden inside struggled to get out.

Finally, with a rip and a slip and a tiny little “dammit,” something the size of a mug of coffee popped free of the discarded pack and stood up, blinking minuscule eyes in the sunlight.

It had eight legs, and looked a bit like a pillbug, minus the shell. Its face didn't have features so much as it had suggestions, with odd wrinkles, a toothed tube for a mouth, and two slits where its eyes hid. And it was made of cloth, carefully stitched fabric that showed it to be another golem or doll haunter.

This was Garon's secret weapon, the thing he'd included that he hadn't mentioned to Threadbare. And right now it was pissed.

The creature looked reproachfully around, hunting for its unwitting bearers.

“The fuck they thinking going off and leaving their pack behind? It's a good pack! What if they find treasure! Can't haul it back without no pack!”

Supremely annoyed, the creature wiggled back into the pack, into the secret compartment that it had been chilling in for weeks now, listening to the conversation and waiting with the patience that only golems could muster. With fervent muttering, and no degree of trouble, the creature squirmed out again, bearing a glowing crystal that any Explorer would instantly recognize as a Greater Waystone.

“I had one job. One job! Might not even need to do it at all. It was easy! But nooooo, they gotta go do random shit. Fuck! Fuck it all!”

A twig snapped behind it.

The creature sighed, and turned around.

Then it blinked. “Oh? What's this now? Great! Just fucking great! How could this day get any worse!”

Two feline eyes glared down at the small creature, suspicious, and a great nose sniffed the air as the most lethal beast outside of the Forest of Final Boss pondered whether or not this tiny thing needed to die horribly...

Meanwhile, totally oblivious to the drama unfolding far behind them, the crew continued on their way deep into the heart of the forest. No one spoke, though the atmosphere was oppressive, and the only other sound was the sighing of the trees in what little wind stirred the dry air of the abandoned place. Everyone knew that they could be attacked at any moment.

Their caution wasn't misplaced.

It started with Threadbare freezing in mid-step. “I just lost a mouse.”

That's all he had time to say before the earth erupted around him.

Hurling himself desperately to the side, Threadbare dodged for all he was worth but he was just a touch too slow as something lashed up from below, grazing his side. It wasn't a serious graze, but if it had caught him unawares he was well certain that it would have taken a heavy chunk out of his hide. As it was, he caught a brief glimpse of a red '7' as it floated up and away from him.

Then he was looking down, but too late. Whatever it was that struck him had withdrawn, lightning-fast.

Cries from around the group, as chanted skills signified defensive buffs going up.

“Guardian Aura!” squeaked Fluffbear.

“Guard Stance! Manipulate Earth! Shield Saint!” from Apollyon.

“Scaly Wings,” from Dracosnack as he took to the air. Glub and Buttons, acting on prior planning with Fluffbear, leaped up onto Mopsy's back a split-second before she danced and leaped with the grace only a big cat could muster, dodging a blur of motion that lashed up and narrowly missed disemboweling her.

Threadbare turned, trying to keep track of his people, muttering a quick “Guard Stance,” himself.

And a second later he was glad that he had done that.

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 25!

Swaying away before he realized what he was doing, the skill saved him from a rear attack.

And this time the thing was far enough out of the ground that he got a look at it before it retracted.

It looked like a brownish snake. Or perhaps a tentacle. Parts of it shown in the dim light, and he thought they might be teeth or spines or even eyes, but it was gone before he could focus.

Gone for the second but not forever, he knew. He chanted “Riposte,” and started dancing in place, trying to drum the ground and draw attention away from the now clustering group behind him. They were dealing with their own attackers, and from the rate of heals and mends that Fluffbear was chanting, things were in hand.

He was surprised when the ground a bit further away erupted, and the thing attacked downward, splitting his hat and sending a red '38' up. The second stroke aimed for his neck but he parried that, and no damage got through. It was strong, but his armor was good enough to handle glancing hits. He knew that he just had to wait for the right opportunity...

It took a full minute, as the others fought behind him, Apollyon churning up the earth, Dracosnack flaming parts of the terrain to keep it from popping up in strategic sections, and everyone else shooting or chopping whenever they caught motion. It took a full minute of taking hits and losing HP, feeling his hide part and his stitches burst. But he had the measure of it, and eventually it slipped up.

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 26!

Your Riposte skill is now level 3!

He stabbed it clean through with his claws, clapped his other paw over it, and PULLED.

The thing wasn't expecting that. And as he hauled brown, fleshy rope out of the ground he yelled “Buttons! Shoot this!”

BLAM!

Instantly he fell on his rump as all the tension vanished, and he was left holding a bleeding brown rope that had once been a part of something larger.

The thing made no noise, and the wounded part of it that wasn't in Threadbare's paws retreated underground, so quickly that it splattered more blood around the area.

And just like that, the attack was done. Tensed and waiting, the rest of the group panted, staring around... but the ground was still, save for the parts that were on fire, and the stone Apollyon had pulled up to armor himself.

“Mend Golem,” Threadbare said, clambering to his feet.

You have healed yourself for 228 HP!

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 73!

“Wow,” Fluffbear said. “It didn't like that.”

“I think we are dealing with an it,” Glub said, padding up to stare at the thing in Threadbare's hands. “Those were like, coordinated attacks. The timing was way too close. And if it had been multiple things, they wouldn't have all run away when you got one of them.”

“But what IS it?” Fluffbear squeaked, trying to urge Mopsy to go nearer. Mopsy was having none of it though, growling low in her throat and backing away.

“I'm not sure, but it's not sticking around,” Threadbare said. And indeed it seemed to be melting, leaking away into liquid and dripping onto the ground in a mess of brown goo and red blood. “Appraise?”

Skill failed! The target is not an object!

“No good,” Threadbare said. “It's definitely a creature of some sort.”

Whatever it was— whatever it had been, it lost all solid form in a matter of seconds. The puddle left behind offered no clues, and was quite sticky and unpleasant, adhering to Threadbare's fur like chewing gum that had been lurking under a desk and waiting for a victim. It took a full Clean and Press to get it off his paws.

The brown parts of it did remain. Those turned out to be dirt. Whatever it was was sticky enough that it coated itself in earth as it moved through the stuff.

Without answers, the group turned to resume the journey.

“Well, it knows we're here now,” Glub said. “Might as well sing to replenish some sanity, so y'all can do your heals.”

“Sing as we move,” Fluffbear decided. “It can still attack us, and we might as well be covering ground if it's going to be doing that.”

“Glub,” Dracosnack said, descending onto Apollyon's shoulder. “Do your songs happen to restore your own, mmm... pool energies?”

“They used to. Then they didn't. Then they did again. Right now they don't,” Glub said, throwing his hands up. “It could change literally in a second and I wouldn't know 'till it hit me. Nurph keeps getting wishy washy on this shit. Sometimes when I'm right in the middle of stuff.”

“Stupid god,” Buttons muttered.

“Yorgum says he means well, but he's kind of a twerp,” Fluffbear said, eyes scanning the ground, looking for movement. “Come on, let's go!”

The thing did attack them twice more as they went. And each time they formed up and beat it back. It was strong and absurdly fast, but it had no real armor to it. Even Apollyon was able to cleave through an incautious tendril, much to his glee.

That glee was tempered as the trees started to thin before them. Thin and reveal a structure, rising from the wilderness.

It was surprisingly intact, though definitely weathered. Holes showed in the wrought-stone wall, and metal struts showed in the higher towers, but those towers still stood. It had been a keep or even a small castle in the past, that much was certain. Now?

Now it was simply a ruin, with the wind blowing and whistling through its remains, the gates open, and a feeling that it wasn't as abandoned as it seemed to be. There was a sense of something holding its breath, something vast and malevolent and unimpressed watching them. It had been there long before them. It would continue on afterward. This was the truth of whatever had made a home of this crumbling stone and that truth had borne the weight of decades, if not centuries.

“You know,” Threadbare said into the silence. “It didn't escape my notice that this creature only attacked us after we had gotten a good hour into the forest. I'm sure it could have struck before then, but it didn't want us escaping its reach.”

“That's creepy!” Fluffbear squeaked. “But it's a good point. This creature is smart, or cunning enough at what it does. We can't underestimate it.”

“And it's worth pointing out that we're not here to kill it, or whatever else is in there,” Threadbare said. “We're looking for survivors to rescue. That's all. Everyone ready?”

They weren't, but most of them nodded anyway.

Later they would regret this, stepping across the cleared meadow and into that crumbling ruin. Later they would regret not testing it a bit more, or doing more recon with the tools they had at hand.

But in the here and now, they did what many nameless and dead heroes, villains, and travelers had done before them, and walked in, knowing that certain death lay before them if they made a mistake.

They were wrong.

It wasn't before them.

It was all around them.

And before the night was out, they would learn the dark and hungry secret of the Forest of the Final Boss.