Koray and the other raventaur we’d saved from the prison flew the party to the Singing Caves. I was held by Koray’s strong talons at the head of the airborne formation, followed closely by Hendrix and his raventaur escort. The bard watched the passing forest canopy below with a wide grin. He kept a hand on his lute to secure it during the sometimes-turbulent journey.

Nikk and Max flew side-by-side about a dozen yards after the bard. The pets had been left behind with the Sun-Touched in Leafveil, but the two rangers assured me they’d be there at the Singing Caves once we needed them. I’d seen enough strange things in the last while and decided to accept their statement without question.

Wolfgang, the Drakkon tank we’d recruited in the library, came next. He hung limp in his human form. It was hard to tell from how far ahead I was, but he seemed to be contemplating something with a heavy sheet of dread over his face. He couldn’t have been nervous. The Singing Caves was the lowest leveled dungeon on the way to level forty. The rest of us were level nine. Wolfgang had already hit forty long ago. He couldn’t have been nervous… right?

Bringing up the rear was Manalolz, our healer. Hendrix had found him during his short trip back to Firemane’s Run. He’d quickly alerted Wolfgang that we were ready for our first dungeon and spent the rest of the journey recruiting a healer to fill out our party. I didn’t know much about Manalolz, as we’d met back in Leafveil, bowed heads to each other, exchanged names, and our escort to the dungeon had begun soon after.

He was human. A short one. Almost my height. Medic was his class. I was excited to finally experience having a healer by my side in battle. Each of my prior run-ins with death could have easily been avoided with one. Manalolz’s moustache flowed behind him in the wind like a jousting knight’s pennant. He was clean-shaven other than that. Both ends hung down nearly to his hips when he stood.

A jarring turn by Koray nearly broke my neck as something whistled by. “Look out!” Koray shouted, but the raventaur escorting Hendrix was already plummeting toward the forest.

I swiveled my head to find the source of whatever had happened and found my answer quicker than I would have liked. Another projectile whistled toward us. Koray avoided it, but a loud grunt behind us suggested one of the other raventaur weren’t as lucky.

More whistling. This time like a swarm of insects. Koray must’ve seen the same thing I did, for he commanded his remaining companions to dive. A wall of dark arrows rushed toward us. They came from below the canopy. Koray amazed me with his ability to not only dodge the arrows but to be able to move me out of their paths as if I were just another limb. From the thuds and grunts behind us, I didn’t think the other escorts were faring as well as Koray.

I opened my mouth to speak, but our flight was interrupted by an arrow colliding with Koray’s chest. It felt more like a boulder than an arrow, and it wasn’t long before Koray and I were on our way down. I screamed as we descended toward the ground in turbulent, aimless swirls. The others were already down there, and they were approaching fast. Somehow, each party member had crashed within a few yards of each other despite being shot down between long intervals in the air.

We crashed. The sound was horrible. It seemed impossible for anyone to survive the fall, but Koray coughed and gasped to show that we’d both somehow lived. I was miraculously unharmed. I got to my feet.

“Well, that was something else, eh?” Hendrix came to me before I’d fully stood.

“What are you talking about?” I raised my voice. “The raventaur.” I looked around. Each party member stood in a small circle on the hard tree-top canopy discussing what had transpired, but the raventaur scouts were dead. All save for Koray. “How can you be so nonchalant about this tragedy? What will the Sun-Touched think when we get back and tell him that he’s lost more men? Do you think he’ll simply say: ‘that was something else, eh?’”

Hendrix smiled. “Relax, buddy. This was supposed to happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“You spent way too much time up in Goldmill. Don’t worry. You’re learning. All this stuff will become clearer for you as time goes on.”

“Not clear enough where I can shrug the deaths of five raventaur.”

“Adventurers…” Koray called with a weak voice.

The party gathered around the dying raventaur.

“We can help you, Koray,” I looked to Manalolz, the healer. “Do something.”

Manalolz stood, fixing his moustache. His eyes bounced from one party member to the next, seemingly searching for an explanation. I didn’t understand what could’ve been so hard to understand about my request, and I nearly raised my voice at him, but Koray spoke first.

“I’m not long for this world, adventurers,” he said. “I regret that we couldn’t bring you directly to the entrance of the caves—damn gnolls. We should’ve been more careful. Nevertheless, we are close enough.” He coughed blood and took a moment to catch his breath. “There’s a path marked by torches from here. It leads off this canopy and to the slender road that circles the crag. Follow that, and you’ll find the mouth of the cave. Good luck, adventurers.”

“You guys don’t know how many times I’ve heard that speech,” Wolfgang said with a grin. “It feels good being back at these low-level dungeons—brings back some good memories of when the world was new and full of wonder. Not stale, stagnant, and cursed.” He made a fist.

How the tank had heard Koray’s speech many times before, I didn’t even ask. Hendrix often criticized me for posing so many questions, but if only he knew how many I kept to myself. Wolfgang led the way and followed the path of torches.

“Shouldn’t you be changing into your drakkon form?” My nerves were starting to stir as we approached our first dungeon. I wanted to be prepared. We’d been ill-prepared for every major test we’d run into thus far. The trend needed to end.

“My transformation is quick,” Wolfgang said, not looking back. “It will be ready when the time comes.”

“And whatever gets in our way when that time comes, better watch out,” Hendrix said. “Sure, old Wolfy here ain’t what he used to be, but that drakkon form is intimidating regardless.”

“Just remember,” Wolfgang said. “It’s not what you look like that determines your worth.”

Manalolz lagged the group by a few paces. He surveyed his surroundings carefully while running fingers through his flowing moustache. The healer was difficult to read. He had the appearance of a wise old sage, but something about him reminded me of a young man with a mind not fully matured. Perhaps I was too strict in my assessment. Besides, as Wolfgang said, appearances didn’t determine worth. I’d have to see the medic in action before I could make an accurate judgment.

A group of four raventaur stood chatting in the distance. Each held a spear tipped with a black feather. My mood was uplifted upon spotting them. The natives of the forest could help us to the cave and would likely help us fight once they knew we’d been sent by the Sun-Touched.

“Excuse me,” I called out to the group. Four beaked faces turned to face me. “We were being escorted by raventaur scouts on a mission for the Sun-Touched. We were shot down by gnolls and—“

Hendrix jumped in front of me, his back facing the raventaur. He put a finger over his lips, pulled out his lute, and plucked his battle song. I eyed him, perplexed, until I saw the raventaur charge us. I turned back to the rest of the group. “You guys ready?”

Nikk and Max were both knelt down, facing away. A glow grew before them, and Buttons and Scallion were trotting about soon after. Manalolz flicked his moustache one more time, grinned, and whipped a few rolls of white cloth and a handful of pins from deep pockets.

Wolfgang jogged past Hendrix and me, still in his human form. His face was calm. Stoic like the veteran he was. I took a deep breath, patted Hendrix on the shoulder, drew my wrench, and followed my tank into battle.

Despite my raging nerves, I was looking forward to seeing Wolfgang in his drakkon form. I’d seen one back in Firemane’s Run advertising his guild, and even in a neutral setting like the city, the dragon-like form had been intimidating.

The tank glowed white as his transformation begun. I continued running a few paces behind him. It was difficult not to stop to enjoy the show. Wolfgang’s white silhouette warped and bent in many contorting angles. It looked painful, but the tank was silent through the process. His shape shrank to the size of a barn cat, then blew up to the size of a barn. It continued like that for a while. I started worrying the transformation might not be complete before we met the charging raventaur.

“What’s up with the tank?” Manalolz said behind us.

“I’ve not seen a transformation like this before,” Max said.

I grinned. Perhaps Wolfgang wasn’t as weak as the rumors claimed. I was starting to think I’d misjudged Hendrix’s scouting ability. I forced my eyes off the tank and focused on my target, the tallest one with the most oversized beak.

“Okay, seriously,” Manalolz said, this time with a raised voice. “What’s up with your tank?”

I looked back to Wolfgang and stopped dead in my tracks. Instead of the red-haired man stood not a dragon-like battler but a sheep. A small, dare I say, cute sheep. The raventaur didn’t seem to care as they continued their charge. Hendrix’s song had stalled. The pets ran past us toward our foes, easily passing the sheep that hadn’t stopped running but couldn’t seem to generate much speed.

The pets collided with the raventaur enemies as I resumed my charge. The sheep got to the battle next. Wolfgang head-butted three of them on the shins and clamped his jaw around the ankle of the fourth. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but there wasn’t much time to question it.

I reached the fight and introduced myself with a strong wrench strike to the biggest beak in the pack. The raventaur reeled back, dazed, but quickly shook it off and struck back. Half my HP drained away in one hit. My jaw dropped, and I recoiled from the fight. The sheep was quickly on my raventaur. It growled — as much as a sheep could — and gained the raventaur’s attention.

Hendrix’s song was back in full force. Nikk zipped by me, spear ready. Arrows began whipping by, signaling Max’s engagement. The only one who hadn’t done anything yet was Manalolz. I was sitting at half health, waiting for a heal, but none came.

I turned to face the healer. He hadn’t moved from his faraway position, but he was hard at work. He crushed something with a mortar and pestle, poured the contents into a small phial, refilled his mortar with more herbs, and started grinding again.

“Start healing,” I shouted at the healer.

He ignored me and continued working on his concoctions.

“He’s stockpiling,” Hendrix sang over his song.

I shrugged.

“A medic’s heals are more potent than a cleric’s,” Hendrix sang, “but the medic has to craft their heals during combat. Some medics craft and use as they go, but some stockpile a few potions at the start of a fight.” The bard glanced at the battle, then glared at the healer. “But sometimes that doesn’t work because a certain tank might be taking more damage than the medic might’ve expected!”

Manalolz took the hint and inspected the brawl. His eyes shot open, and his moustache twitched. “How is a level forty tank taking this much damage in this dungeon?”

“Too long to explain,” Hendrix said. “Just heal.”

“And why is he a sheep?”

“Just heal!”

Manalolz dashed in and popped the cork from a phial. He poured the contents into his palm and blew the powder at Wolfgang. One heal was enough to bring it back up to fifty percent from the fifteen it had fallen to.

The heal was impressive. I waited for mine, but the healer looked me over and threw his attention back to the tank. He ignored everyone else. I was going to yell at him, but there was probably something I didn’t know about that would easily explain why I wasn’t receiving heals, so I held my tongue.

I ran back into the fight, even though one blow had cut my health in half. For all the damage Wolfgang was taking, I trusted his ability to hold the raventaur’s attention. One raventaur kept attacking elsewhere every once in a while. Wolfgang cursed.

“Get your damned dog to stop stealing agro!” The shouting was directed at Nikk. The shock of Wolfgang’s human voice, leaving the sheep’s mouth nearly had me rolling on the ground laughing. I somehow kept my composure and resumed swinging my wrench.

“Scallion does what he wants,” Nikk shouted back, thrusting his spear at a nearby raventaur. “Just tank better.”

I ignored the argument and focused on the raventaur. Their HP was going down much slower than opponents I was used to. Each of them had more HP than High-Lord Mallar. With a tank and healer, the fight should have been easier than Mallar, but our tank was a sheep, and our healer didn’t seem interested in healing anyone but the sheep.

It was a strange fight. Each of the four raventaur focused their efforts on the tenacious sheep. One of them sometimes shifted to Scallion, which Wolfgang wasn’t too pleased about. Nikk, the pets, and I hacked and slashed away. It was odd hammering away on a foe that barely seemed to notice I was there, though the damage was rolling. Max released a steady stream of well-aimed arrows. Hendrix played his song. Manalolz stood a few yards from the fighting, vigorously mixing more potions while keeping a sharp eye on the tank.

The largest raventaur went down. Another followed soon after. Wolfgang started taking much less damage with two of them dead, and with four of us, six if you include the pets, dealing damage to just two targets, they fell quick.

Hendrix dashed to the raventaur corpses and frowned. “Only gold.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Nikk said.

“I was hoping for some gear,” the bard said.

The pants! I whipped the pair of purple pantaloons from my pack and handed them over to the disappointed bard. Hendrix's frown shifted to his familiar smirk as he accepted the gift.

“Where'd you get this?”

“Found it under one of the dead gnolls back in the valley after you died.”

He stashed them into his pack. “I’ll put these on later. Thanks, buddy.”

Manalolz stormed toward us, an ugly scowl beneath his moustache. “I wouldn’t have joined had I known I’d be clearing a dungeon with a group of scrubs!”

“Watch who you’re calling scrub, pal,” Wolfgang said, already back in his human form.

The healer glared at the tank. “You’re the biggest scrub of the group. What kind of level forty tank takes this much damage? What kind of drakkon turns into a sheep?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Wolfgang said. “I held aggro. That’s my job.”

“You’re way too squishy,” Manalolz said. “It was actually easier for me when that green wolf was tanking.”

Wolfgang stared the medic in the eye, then walked away, continuing down the path of torches. I held my tongue. My gut told me to go to Wolfgang’s defense, but I was just as confused as the healer. Even Hendrix seemed confused about the sheep. The bard had known Wolfgang had lost most of his power when we’d recruited him, but perhaps he didn’t know the full extent.

“Let’s go,” Manalolz said.

I looked at him with a blank expression. He went from insulting us and voicing his regrets of joining to urging us forward.

“Go. Go,” he said. “The faster we get through this, the faster I can get back to town and never see you guys again.” He ran off after the tank.

Nikk laughed, patting Scallion. “I like him.”

“Of course, you do,” Max said, rolling his eyes.

“More should rush,” Nikk said. “Time wasting is no good.” He dashed away. The rest of us followed at an average pace in silence.