The journey through the grasslands of the Chebli Sea went smoothly for Morgan and Issa. They didn’t run into the Ardeni herders, nor did they encounter any wildlife of any size. They saw lots of birds and small animals scurrying through the grass at their approach, but, for the most part, they were alone, like two small boats on a vast ocean with wavy, red-purple water. “It smells different than last time,” Morgan remarked near the end of their third day of riding.

“I think the flowers will be gone in a week or so. Their fragrance is much less noticeable this time, isn’t it?” Issa replied, taking an exaggerated sniff.

“Yeah, that’s it.” They were, if Morgan’s memory served, about half a day from the Rill Catcher, and it was getting on toward evening. “Let’s set up camp. The weather’s nice, the sky is clear; let’s enjoy the grasslands one last night before we have to turn toward the forest.”

“Oh, that sounds good. My back is tired of this saddle, anyway.” Issa rubbed Gopp’s shoulder and dismounted. There wasn’t any point in looking for an “ideal” campsite—it was grasslands as far as they could see in every direction. Morgan started setting up the tent while Issa cleared an area for a campfire. They let the roladii wander freely because they wouldn’t go far with grass so near.

That evening they sat by the small fire, cooked some meat and veggies on kabobs, and even drank some of the cheb-cheb that Morgan had been hoarding. They curled up together in the tent, enjoying each other’s company for a long while, and then Issa said she wanted to keep watch first for a change. Morgan didn’t argue, he liked being the first to watch, but if she wanted to, he didn’t think it was fair to always get his way. He closed his eyes while Issa slowly stroked his shaggy hair. He briefly thought about how he needed a haircut, and then he was sinking into oblivion, a dream of sitting near a placidly flowing river already overtaking his mind.

Morgan woke with the feeling of warmth on his face. He felt good, better than he had in a long while, and he stretched, enjoying how his muscles pulled taut while he took in a big lungful of fresh air. It was only when he looked around the tent and saw the yellow sunlight through the canvas fabric that he registered what was going on; he’d slept through the entire night. “Issa?” he called out, scrambling out of the warm blanket and poking his head out of the tent flap. He saw Gopp and Munch a little way’s off, doing what they did best, eating grass. He saw the cold remnants of their fire, but he didn’t see Issa. He stood up and looked around—everywhere was grass, a little higher than his waist, but no sign of Issa in any direction. Unless she’d fallen?

After a brief moment of panic, Morgan remembered his Guardian’s Senses ability and reached out for Issa. He felt her, solid and alive but much farther than she should be. She was off to the west, a good day or two away from him at the pace they’d been keeping. “What the fuck?” Morgan pulled his tack out of his storage bag and, with only one arm, struggled to get it onto Munch’s back. After sloppily yanking the leather straps through the buckles, he looped a lead over Gopp’s neck and jumped onto Munch, kicking his heels and racing in the direction he could feel Issa. The tent, blankets, and cold fire sat forlornly in the middle of the sea while the two roladii tore through the grass, exuberant in their morning sprint.

Morgan had never felt panic like he felt in that moment. There was no rational explanation for how Issa had gotten so far away in the middle of the night. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. She had to have been taken, right? The question ran through his mind over and over. She couldn’t travel so quickly, even with Gopp, and she’d left Gopp. Even if she wanted to leave, she wouldn’t do so without saying anything. What could have taken her? She’d slaughter an Urghat that tried, or Yeksa, even if there were enough to overpower her, she’d have made a hell of a ruckus. What about a Yovashi? Could one still live around here? Morgan knew from experience that some Yovashi had the ability to do teleportation magic. He urged Munch to even greater speed, careless of the beast’s endurance.

Hours later, Morgan was forced to allow Munch a break. The poor animal was straining to keep up the speed, but he was huffing and wheezing with effort, and foamy sweat was gathering along his shoulders and haunches. Morgan got off the roladii and gave both of them water from a bucket he kept in his storage pouch. Then, he let them eat grass while he continued jogging in Issa’s direction. After the two roladii had become dots in the distance, he whistled for them to come, and they did. While they continued to eat in the new location, Morgan jogged off again. He did this four times, and by the time Munch and Gopp caught up to him that fourth time, they no longer ate grass ravenously, and Morgan jumped back onto Munch’s saddle, letting him run at a more sedate pace.

He pushed Munch to keep trotting for another couple of hours, then he watered the two mounts again and continued running, leading the two of them at, what was for them, a leisurely pace. Morgan took heart by constantly feeling for Issa and feeling that he was gaining ground on her. She didn’t seem to be moving any further, and Morgan felt like he’d covered more than half the distance to her by the time the sun began to sink toward the western horizon. Running into the sinking sun, he didn’t notice at first but soon realized that low hills were taking shape in the distance with taller mountains behind them. He was tired, having ridden or run the entire day, but he didn’t slow as twilight came over the grasslands, and the hills and mountains became deep purple bruises against the moonlit sky.

Morgan grunted, scrambling up the loose scree on a rocky hillside. The hills had grown steeper as he pushed on in the night, but Morgan refused to stop; he felt Issa closer now, but he could sense she was much higher than he was. He reasoned she had to be up in the mountains, the foothills of which he was now scrambling through. He knew he was being reckless, but he couldn’t be still while she was suffering some unknown fate. He’d left Munch and Gopp back in the lower foothills in a small gully filled with grass and leafy shrubs. They weren’t much help when it came to scrambling up hillsides. Morgan was feeling the loss of his arm more and more as the going grew steeper. He was forced to leverage his strength and agility; he’d grab handholds, kick himself up, and hop from perch to perch. Still, his body was exhausted, and the skin of his hand was raw and scraped, his nails chipped and filled with dirt.

At some point, in the middle of the night, Morgan could feel that Issa was mostly above him, hardly any further west. He had gained a lot of elevation already and knew that he was high on the slope of a rocky, barren mountain. The problem was that he’d worked himself up to a rather steep and stony escarpment. He’d need to find a crevasse or a path or something, or he’d have to set some sort of world record for one-handed mountain climbing. There wasn’t anything Morgan wouldn’t try for Issa, but he figured he’d do more for her alive than dead at the bottom of a cliff, so he started to work his way south, along the base of the rocky wall. He constantly scanned upward with his Azure Sight, looking for signs of a path, a structure, anything. Hours went by as he wended his way along the mountainside, looking for a way up. All the while, he reached out with his Guardian’s Senses, making sure Issa hadn’t moved and that she was still alive. Each time he felt her presence, he felt renewed strength flood his limbs, and he pushed on.

The eastern horizon was growing light when Morgan finally found what he was looking for: a narrow crack in the rocky escarpment some way south and further east of where he felt Issa’s presence. It was just wide enough for him to stand in, each side of the crevice nearly touching one of his shoulders. Rocks and roots made convenient grips and steps as he wormed his way up the crevice, climbing nearly vertically toward the top of the escarpment. He could see the triangle of gray sky that signaled the end of his climb and knew he was about halfway when the jutting rock he was pulling on slipped free of the cliffside, and he fell. Stones and dirt accompanied him as he tumbled and bounced down the jagged rocky walls of the cleft. He flailed his arm, trying to get a purchase on anything, but his efforts were fruitless, and he tumbled and slammed into the ground. He felt a crunch in his chest and the world went dark.

He was sure the darkness only claimed him for a few seconds, and he gasped a lung full of dusty air and surged to his hand and knees. Morgan coughed for several long seconds, wincing at the pain in his side. He knew he’d broken or cracked at least one rib. He marveled at the fact that he’d only suffered some hurt ribs after such a fall. Truly, his improved body was a lot more sturdy than a typical human’s. He knelt there for a long moment, catching his breath and chuckling. “I’m losing it,” he said, shaking his head. Exhaustion was becoming a real problem, but he didn’t care—there was no way he would rest until he’d laid eyes on Issa and seen that she was safe.

Morgan stood and rummaged in his ring for one of the weaker healing potions he’d picked up at the Contribution Store in First Landing. He drank it and sighed loudly as relief flooded into his bruised and scraped skin, and the sharp pain in his ribs became a dull ache. He looked at his hand, whistled appreciatively at the lack of blisters, and began his ascent anew. This time he took more time, carefully testing each handhold.

As the day brightened, Morgan felt the sun’s glow begin to warm his back. He had just passed the point where he’d fallen when he came to a large indentation atop a jutting boulder and decided to sit there and have a small break. He scooted his back against the crevice wall, looked out over the rolling hills to the southeast, and saw the purple-red sea of grass. From this height, he could see where the Rill Catcher cut through the grassland and even the blue-green haze of forests far to the east. It was beautiful, and if Morgan weren’t constantly feeling for Issa, he might have found the view sublime enough to lull him into relaxation, but that wasn’t the case. He drank a few gulps of water, scarfed down a hard biscuit, and resumed his climb.

With only one arm, Morgan had to use the sides of the aperture and his legs to wedge and push himself up. By the time he finally scrambled out onto the flat top of the escarpment, he was brown from the dirt and mud that his sweat had created. He lay flat on the ground, trying to control his breathing while taking stock. He was on top of a kind of plateau, though another escarpment led to an even higher peak in the distance. Still, on this wide ledge that spread out for about a mile, he could make out a copse of scraggly trees and the walls of some sort of tall, rectangular keep. He could feel Issa’s presence coming from the keep. While he lay there watching the keep, perhaps a half-mile distant, he saw a huge, winged shape lift off from the top of the structure, swoop lazily as it caught an updraft, and then glide out over the plateau and down over the stony cliffside to the northeast. Judging by the distance, Morgan surmised the winged creature was at least as big as a horse with something like a twenty-foot wingspan.

Frantically, he felt for Issa, and when he felt her still alive and within the keep, he breathed out a sigh. The creature hadn’t eaten her or taken her away, though what was its intention if it was responsible for bringing her here? Were there more of them in that keep? Was it doing someone’s bidding? A million more questions rushed through Morgan’s mind, but he had no answers, and there was only one way he could think of to get some: he had to get into that keep.

The copse of scraggly trees grew along the next cliff base and up against the keep. Morgan didn’t know if anyone watched from the keep’s walls or its tall narrow windows, so he crawled on his belly for two or three hundred yards to the edge of the little wooded area. Only when he was several body lengths into the trees and scrubs did he stand up, squatting low, and begin to work his way toward the gray walls.

He crept to the edge of the little copse, noting how quiet it was. He didn’t hear a bird chirp or an animal scurry the entire time he worked his way from tree to tree. When he got to the last row of trees, before being exposed, he squatted low behind a particularly fat, gnarled trunk and studied the keep. The stones were enormous, evenly cut, and laid with the skill of an expert, but the masonry was in great disrepair. Much of the mortar was crumbling, and the stones had significant open gaps between them. Morgan could only imagine how wet it must get inside during a storm. He couldn’t see the roof from his position, but he felt like he could probably scale that wall fairly easily, even one-handed. He saw several rectangular windows about twenty feet from the ground, most were unshuttered, and the shutters that covered one of the windows were hanging crookedly with a wide gap between them.

He was about to creep over the swaying, brown grass to the wall when he heard the strangest sound rippling through the air. It was like a warbling, chirping, “Cwooo, cwooo,” coming from above and echoing off the stony side of the keep. Morgan crouched down behind his tree and watched as the winged creature swooped down and landed on the top of the keep’s wall. It hung there, back facing Morgan, and took a couple of steps on massive taloned feet before it dropped down, either inside the keep itself or some hidden courtyard. This time, Morgan had gotten a good look at it, and he shivered at its strangeness. It had a long, flexible tail with a barb, broad wings like a moth, and a flat face with plate-sized eyes reminiscent of an owl.

Morgan felt a surge of urgency. What if that thing had taken Issa and was saving her for a meal? What if it was hungry now? He cursed his missing hand, knowing he’d never get his armor strapped on in a timely fashion, and knowing he could scale that wall ten times faster with two hands. Still, he had to get in there, so he checked that his sword was still secure in the ring on his belt, and he hurried across the yellow grass to the side of the keep. No way would he let some bird-moth eat Issa.