Derek: Speakeasy. It's an underground bar. Granny Abbot for the win.

We were herded to a bar - our eyes wide as we admired the underground, the inside of a dimly lit brick building filled with animal personification. It was their 'watering hole'.

Just as amazing was the details Derek shared from a quick conversation with my grandmother, Mike as the intermediary, and even if we could answer the question of what the fuck? The question of why once more slipped further away.

That it was all animals kept me on edge, to see them standing upright, chatting softly and gesturing. Sipping lemonade. It should have been idyllic, cozy - if it hadn't been pulled right from a surreal painting. The way the gazelle moved in light, summer dresses flirting and socializing, leaning against the stout wildebeests.

A meerkat was tearing through a jazzy, easy rhythm, all the while our local guide Calvin the wildebeest was entertaining us with an unhurried, whimsical voice, as we were seated at a cozy table and brought drinks of the local special by a zebra.

"And there I was, weak as a calf at the sight of Miss. Davison here, the debutante that she is. And if it wasn't for the mercy in her soul, I'm sure I'd be there to this very day."

It was mostly a one-sided conversation punctuated with braying chuckles, snorts and short silences before Derek finally took a moment to get in a word edgewise.

"Would you know a way for some visitors to earn some coins, Calvin?" Derek asked our host, the wildebeest that had first greeted us, "Not to be improper, but work's the reason we've come down this way."

"Work, is it?" Calvin looked down at us, "Now who could even think about work when there is so much to enjoy. I'm more a fan of leisure."

Jason: Whats happening guys?

Brandon: nm, at bar.

"Damn it." Derek hissed.

This caused the closest animals to snort, flicking their ears - they eyed Derek sternly, who hurried to apologize -

Jason: You went to a bar without me!

Cody: Hold on, Jason, it's not what you think. This seems all bad. They're smart. Maybe strong.

Mike: Don't kill them.

Cody: Give us a few minutes, if it's anything good I promise we'll tell you, but be ready in case we need help.

The situation was too strange for me, I had too much on my mind and this was the opposite of how I liked to blow off steam, so I did the only thing I knew to do in this situation.

I put on my biggest, fakest church smile. And didn't say a fucking word.

"Excuse our manners," Derek said gathered himself, "But I'm afraid we're new to visiting a place so..."

"Welcoming?" Calvin offered, and Derek nodded quickly.

"We have no idea what to do."

It was the perfect question, and the animals all jumped in to throw out an opinion, varied and plentiful options for the gourmand to the gambler - and I realized, in a way, we were exactly what we felt like. Tourists -

Derek: I'm thinking we go with it. Try to make coins by trading.

And that was exactly what we did, after finishing our lemonade and thanking Calvin and his friends, we walked down town, each step putting us a bit more at ease, but the phantom sensation of cold sweat still didn't quite disperse -

Because what would have happened had we attacked? If we hadn't had the Pyramid, and instead instantly went on the offense. Intelligent enemies, now that changed everything. That the hardest part of the dungeon was that you were never quite sure of anything.

We verified we could trade, then I swapped out for Jason and I took control of the Pyramid, Mike still needed to hatch his eaglet, and I needed to speak with my folks as well as take care of our guests. If I couldn't hunt to do that, I could at least use my abilities.

I went about solving the problems, I built a wall of outhouses, pouring a layer of sand on the bottom and leaving a bucket of sand nearby, stocking them with toilet paper and fresh flowers. I laid out pallets in the scorpion room where people could rest, putting up panels for privacy.

The main hall I grew a massive round dining room table with barstool seating from an acorn while I crafted plates, cups, and wood utensils inside, I set out jugs of water, some beer, and all our snacks - raviolis and tuna, snack bars and jerky. It was disappointing, I wanted a dinner - but all the normal food we had, what I could make still tasted pretty harsh, maybe it'd gotten better but...

Cody: Mike, what's up with your mom, she doesn't like me.

Mike: What are you doing?

Cody: Setting the table

Mike: Shoot. It's because she didn't bring anything, I didn't tell her it was a dinner. Ask her to help you do something.

Jason: Yeah, Cody. Stop being rude.

Cody: Can she cook?

Brandon: Yes.

Mike was locked away with his egg, after my warning, and seeing moltras, he was taking far more time then the rest of us -

"Mrs. Arroyo?" I approached, "Do you think you could help me? Mike said you're a great cook, I did my best, but -"

"Micheal said that?" She asked, "About me?"

I thought she was going to kiss me, "Well, Brandon."

"Oh," She waved her hand, "Brandon is sweet."

I looked at her to see if she was serious and decided it was the language barrier.

"I really want a nice dinner, do you think -"

"Give me. Where's the kitchen?"

"We don't have one, we just use a fire." She didn't even blink. We'd cleaned the bonfire already, but I was able to put together a bbq quickly out of bone and metal racks, I built a shelf and laid out everything I had for cooking and asked her to get me if she needed anything -

She was already tying her hair back and rolling up lacy sleeves, dunking her hands in one of the bowls of water I'd set out -

And I couldn't find anything else that couldn't wait, I turned to my family, leading them into the King's Room to finally catch up - I didn't know what to say. For them to come, the danger they were putting themselves in. For them to choose to support me, to trust the words of my letter without question or comment.

To see the males of my line standing just as tall as ever, not diminished by what we had lost, what they knew I intended to tear apart. There were no words...

But I could hug them - this time I wrapped them all together, holding them tight to me, laughing, feeling my dad pound my back with his fist.

My father had gotten my note, an explanation of the events and what I said they meant, a softer note for my mother and grandmother - that I had been wrongfully imprisoned. That he was here, along with my grandfather, said everything.

That there was no doubt in my mind that if he was here, it was to fight. That I hadn't missed that they arrived with ruck sacks and boots, not socks and sandals. It wasn't truly their presence that surprised me, that I had as much faith in them as they did in me. But the ladies of the house were here as well.

I didn't take that lightly -

"Mom. Grandma. You came, too?"

The look they both gave me, that they weren't actually related and yet have the same exact expressions.

"I'm glad, of course. I just -"

"Thought we'd be baking you more cookies?" My grandmother chuckled, "Or back home sewing you a flag?"

Oops.

But their stern expressions vanished after a moment, both grinning, my mother passed me a bundle of cellophane from her purse and indeed, it was cookies. I'd been out for weeks.

RED

"Danger." And I was out the door, Mike at my side, as I threw the pyramid doors open and shouting reached me, what had those fools done!