"Bloody Beryllands, I’ll never get used to that," the Hecatian mumbled to herself. The celestial lightshow that exploded behind her was now nothing but a wisp among a colorless patch of trees—the only evidence that something extraordinary had just blipped out of existence. "Just like that, I'm all by my lonesome again. Should probably set up camp before it gets dark. No telling when those two are gonna make it back."

Hwalín busied herself by digging through the large pack she carried on her back, rifling through an assortment of supplies. Pouches full of plants, snacks, multiple packs of weapon polish, and a private periodical filled with beefy men in various states of undress that she liked to peruse on dark nights when the others were asleep.

“I guess it’s a good a time as any,” she said with a lecherous smile. But before she could inspect its contents thoroughly, a rustling of the trees behind her forced her to stuff it swiftly back into her bag.

“Brazen one, aren’t you?” A voice echoed from the treetops. “You Hecatians sure are a lascivious lot. Haven’t even been alone a few minutes and you’re already besmirching the witch’s front yard. Well, don’t let me stop you.”

“Why don’t you mind yer own business, you disembodied bastard?” Hwalín searched the trees for the source of the resonant voice. "I wasn't plannin' whatever you think I was plannin'. Sometimes a girl just wants to cuddle up with a good book, yeah?"

The voice simply laughed. “I knew Hecatia, you know? She wasn’t all that different. Pretty brutal woman when she had to be though.”

“Show yourself, you git!” The red elf shook her fist at the red and yellow foliage. “I ain’t about to be having this conversation with a bloody tree!”

After some insistence, a large shadow finally jettisoned itself away from the hidden bough it was perched on and landed on a nearby stone. A familiar majestic, black bird revealed itself in front of Hwalín. Crimson eyes glared smugly at her. It was none other than the witch’s familiar, Carthas.

“I have one, simple job,” the bird said to her. “To watch over Alma and make sure she stays out of trouble. It hasn’t even been half a day.”

Well, see. About that.” Hwalín coughed. “It turns out our little sniper is still just full of surprises. One minute she’s here… the next she’s teleported herself to another dimension.”

Carthas let out the avian equivalent of what one would call a sigh. "You know that witch is going to kill us both as soon as she finds out."

"Unruffle them feathers, mate. Nia's already making her way over to Alma as we speak. She'll have her back in no time and you can just forget this even happened."

"You mean that pocket goddess you've got following you guys around? I wouldn't say this to her face but I wouldn't trust her as far as I can throw her. There's just something off about her. Deities, you know. No moral compass." Carthas raised a wing and pointed to his head with the tip of his longest feather. "Lucky for you and me, they don't tend to be too bright so there're always ways to take advantage."

"What are you on about with your squawkbox? Nia's the smartest person I know."

"Then again," the bird murmurs. "I'm reminded who I'm talking with."

"I bet you'd cook up real nice. Better start figuring out why I shouldn't eat ya.”

“I’m just saying.” He cleared his squawkbox. “Keep your eyes trained on the enigmatic ones. You can’t even begin to comprehend what’s going on in their heads. Do you even truly share the same goal, for example?”

“Course we’re after the same thing.” Hwalín began pitching the large orange tent she had been carrying on her back. “She wants to save the planet from ending, and I don’t want to die a fiery death. Simple as.”

“Riiiight. And how exactly does she plan to accomplish that?” The colossal bird hopped off his rock and began pacing around in front of the busy Hecatian. “Where is she now, exactly?”

“You know… Who are we to question the gods, eh? Aren’t they nowhere and everywhere?”

“You have no idea, do you?”

Hwalín tossed one of the steel poles used to pitch the tent straight at the bird, which he dodged with ease.

“Hope you’re not expecting me to hand that back to you,” said Carthas.

The red elf grumbled and staggered over to where it had landed. “I trust Nia to know what she’s bloody doing. She’s somewhere right now using her powers to track down Alma as we speak. You think she’d go to all that trouble if she didn’t care about us?”

“Or she just can’t accomplish this mission without her. While here, she just leaves you behind.”

“Did that godsdamned witch put you up to this?” Hwalín stabbed a pole into the ground with harder-than-average force. “Trying to sow discord in our little group? I didn’t take her for that kind of bitch.”

“Oh, no. This is all me,” he replied, chuckling. “The less Heloise knows about my activities, the better. I just happened to chance upon you and wonder why you were still here.” The bird flew over to the top of the unfinished tent, now about a foot or two from Hwalín’s face. “I take it they won’t be gone long? Why go to all the trouble of setting up camp—and here of all places?”

“Said she won’t be long, but who knows with that cosmic shite. Might as well make myself comfy. You know that witch better than anyone. Would you rather go back there?

The bird sneered.

“S’what I thought.” Hwalín parked herself on the ground and pulled out the raunchy magazine from earlier. “Stay or go, I ain't really one to hide my vices.”