The rest of the night had passed without anything of note happening. Basil and Shamrock sat around the fire, eating their soup out of glass bowls, one of them clearly feeling much more awkward about it than the other, who simply poured it into his helmet without any real hesitation. Fresh and Jubilee sat on the side, a tree separating themselves from each other. Fresh didn’t want Jubilee to have to eat alone, so she left the fire too, to sit with them.

The soup is very filling and hearty, carrying with it a deep and surprisingly rich aroma. Though, the gray strands of spider meat certainly didn’t manage to become more appealing through the process of being boiled in lake-water. Still, convinced by either Fresh’s example or their own gnawing hunger, they all ate the soup without any further complaints. Though the look in Basil’s and Jubilee’s eyes certainly still signaled that they were unhappy about it. It really did need some salt.

Afterwards, with full stomachs, the mood was much brighter and happier and they all took turns sleeping deeply with one of them always staying awake to hold the watch. Even Fresh was asked to do so and the girl took the task perhaps a little too seriously, marching around the camp in a tight circle the entire time, until Jubilee yelled at her to sit down and be quiet.

Once morning comes, Fresh and Jubilee set to making a load of glass bottles for them to fill up with water.

“How many can you fit in that window of yours?” asks Jubilee.

“As many as I need to, I think. But we shouldn’t put food or water in there,” says Fresh. “It will be really bad if any of the black-water leaks into it.”

“Fucking… what? What-water? Nevermind. I don’t care.” Jubilee rubs the back of their head, sighing. “Fine. Then we’ll just have to carry them.”

Fresh nods in agreement. Jubilee fills the bottle with water from the pot, capping it with the glass lid and then handing it to her. Vacantly, Fresh looks at the bottle and then back to Jubilee, not sure what to do with it.

“You have the only bag, dumb-ass,” says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips.

“Huh?!” Fresh looks around, realizing that it’s true. She really does have the only bag. She suddenly realizes that all of her friends had to leave everything that they had behind. “Can’t you make some?” she asks Jubilee.

“Out of what?”

“Out of… uh…” her eyes scan the campsite, trying to find anything that could be turned into fabric. But there is no such thing to be found here. Fresh sighs, relenting as she takes the bottle. “Okaaaay~”

They end up making a large amount of bottles, easily two dozen, until the bag is so full that it can’t even close right anymore.

“Jubilee!” complains Fresh. “I can’t carry that!” cries the girl, pulling on the straps in an attempt to get the bag to lift off of the ground even an inch. It doesn’t budge, despite her best efforts.

“Are you stupid?” asks Jubilee, shaking their head.

Closing her eyes, ignoring Jubilee, she leans back, digging her heels into the dirt, giving her very best to try and hoist it up despite the ache in her back.

Suddenly, the bag lifts into the air. She opens her eyes in shock, surprised that she did it. Fresh blinks, staring at the large, metal gauntlet in-front of her face, its fingers wrapped around the fabric. Without a word, Shamrock takes the bag from her and effortlessly hoists it over his shoulder with a single hand. The strap of the bag pulls taut, pressing tightly against his armor as it barely manages to slip through and around his upper arm, the glass clinks noisily.

She stares at him. “Thank you!” beams the girl. Shamrock nods once and walks to the edge of the clearing. Soon enough, the campsite is cleared and they all gather to keep walking.

“So how much further is it?” asks Fresh as they set out.

“How much further is what?” asks Jubilee.

Fresh shrugs. “The west.”

“About a week. Maybe two,” answers Basil.

“Huh?!” Fresh clutches Basil in horror. “Two weeks?!”

Basil nods. “It’s faster with an anqa. We could cut a lot of the travel time out if we used the road. But we should stay clear of it for another few days.”

“Yup,” says Jubilee. “Any mounted patrols from the city will catch us in no time if we head to the road now.”

Fresh scratches her cheek. “Do you think they’re still looking for us?” she asks nervously.

Jubilee looks back at her, clearly raising one of their eyebrows. “Still?” Basil and Jubilee exchange a glance before looking back at her. “They’re never going to stop looking for us.”

Fresh rubs her arm, feeling somewhat distraught at this. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s that bad,” replies Jubilee dryly, turning around to keep walking and waving for her to follow. “I don’t know how many witches there are left now, but -”

“Three,” interjects Shamrock. “All in the south.”

Jubilee nods to him, understanding something. “Three. There are three witches left now, including you and there are a lot of people in high places who would prefer that number to be lower. A lot lower.”

Fresh thinks for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me once that sometimes nobles liked to hire witches to do stuff?”

“Yeah, but fuck that,” says Jubilee. “That’s not a life-strategy, that’s a pipe-dream. Like I said, those are fringe cases and done in secret,” they explain, shaking their head. “No noble estate is going to tarnish their reputation and hurt their societal power by getting near a witch if they can avoid it.” Jubilee shrugs. “Honestly, they’d probably be better off if they showed your public execution. It would get them a lot of clout.”

Somehow this is all getting worse and worse, notices Fresh. “Will we be safe?” asks Fresh. “In the west. Will people look for us there?”

“They might. But we should be fine. Political tensions being what they are these days, no official search party is going to look for us there and no unofficial search parties are going to feed back any good information to anyone who hires them.”

“The thieves’ guild?” asks Fresh curiously. “Why are they helping us, Jubilee? How do you know them?”

Jubilee looks back at her. “We’re merchants, remember? We do business with everyone.”

Fresh purses her lips, not happy with the answer. But she drops it for now, not wanting to let the fear, which is obviously present in her, spook her friends. She has to put up a brave face as the party-leader. Nodding to herself, she lifts her hands to adjust the straps of her bag so that she can keep walking. Only after her fingers graze the empty spot on her shoulders, does she remember that she isn’t even carrying her own bag right now.

Rather quietly, they walk for the rest of the day. It’s a lot easier with water to drink and they end up taking a few more breaks than the days before. There are two dozen bottles in the bag, so six for each of them. But given their non-stop walking and trekking in the summer heat, these seem to empty faster than they had expected. They agree to try and ration them as well as they can. It could be several days before they find another lake or river.

The night comes and they set up camp as they had so many days before now. Then in the morning they continue. Then again for another day. Then again for another day. Day after day, they simply walk through the forest with nothing happening at all. No monsters, no animals, no scares or discoveries; there is simply nothing but empty forest in all directions. Flat, featureless forest. It might as well be a desert.

Fresh shakes her last water bottle out over her open mouth, trying to get the last drops out of it. The bag on Shamrock's back is empty now.

She sighs, setting the empty bottle back into it, thanking the large man for bending down a little so that she could reach. They walk for another day, now out of water again.

Suddenly, there is a disturbance at their side. “NYAH~!” yells the mush-mush, which turns out to be a fatal mistake for it. As soon as the creature lunges out of the tree-line, a glass skewer blasts through it, right between its eyes and holds it aloft in the air. With a disgustingly wet squeak, it begins sliding down the glass pole, the gaping wound widening as the weight of its own body presses it down further.

“Let’s eat it!” shouts Fresh excitedly, her stomach growling before the creature even hits the ground.

“You can’t eat mush-mushes, dumb-ass,” sighs Jubilee. “Didn’t you ever learn not to eat random mushrooms?”

“You can eat them, I did once!” says Fresh, clenching her fists. She wants to say that it was really good, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. At least not on its own. “It was… okay!” Jubilee and Basil seem unsure and look up at Shamrock.

“The forest is clean,” is all that he says as he grabs the dead mush-mush, lifting it off of the glass pole.

They make their camp early today and Fresh sets to work, preparing the mushroom creature. She takes the cap off, setting it to the side. Maybe she can make a potion out of this? She hasn’t made any moonwater in a while. Oh… wait. The girl sighs, realizing that she doesn’t have any water to make moonwater with. She never realized how much she took the fountain in the north for granted. But maybe there’s an idea here anyways? She thinks for a moment, before setting to work.

Fresh slices the exterior of the mush-mush into long, thick slices that look like steaks and begins frying them on top of a glass stove. They hiss as they touch the surface, releasing a very earthy smell. Fresh realizes that they are full of water. She only cooks them lightly, flipping the steaks only once each to get a strong sear on both sides. It’s important that they don’t lose their moisture.

“Here you go!” Fresh proudly hands Basil the first ‘steak’ on a glass plate. “Ah, wait!” she grabs a pinch of the orange mushroom-cap that she had ground into a fine powder and sprinkles it over the steak. “The cap powder gives it a little zest!”

Basil looks at her and then down at the orange-dusted chunk of monster meat in her hands. “If you say so…”

Fresh nods, smiling. “Mm! I do say so!” she says confidently with a lifted finger and a wink to the priestess who looks away, staring down at her food with an unsure and oddly confused expression on her face. Fresh scratches her cheek as she watches, somewhat confused herself, getting a smear of orange dust on her face. Shrugging to herself, she gets the rest of them ready and they all sit down to eat, all of them scattered around with Jubilee out of sight, as always.

Without any hesitation, Fresh lifts the mushroom steak and bites into it. The water inside of it drips out as her teeth sink into the pliantly firm texture of the meat. The body of the steak is oddly soft and mushy as soon as it breaks off of the rest. It has a very plain, bitter and earthy taste. But the bright tang of the orange mushroom-cap livens it up in a notable way. Fresh places a hand to her cheek in delight as she chews.

“It’s really good!” she exclaims excitedly with a full mouth. It’s not really that great, but she’s trying to be encouraging.

Basil takes the initiative and bites in as well, her tightly clenched eyes opening a moment later in surprise. The priestess chews and swallows. “You’re right. This is pretty good.” She thinks for a second. “You’re a pretty good cook. Maybe we should open a restaurant instead of a store?” Shamrock just exhales loudly, turning his steak sideways and shoving the whole thing into his helmet at once.

“Yeah, not bad. I can really taste the dirt,” says Jubilee sarcastically from behind her.

She smiles as she takes another bite. Once again, she sits here, grateful for the sacrifice that has been made for her. She lowers her head, saying a quiet thanks for Mr. Mushroom who has never once let her down.