• Published 16th Jan 2019
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Hinterlands - Rambling Writer



A necromancer with a price on her head. A ragtag team of bounty hunters. The glacial wilderness of the Frozen North. The chase is on.

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14 - Shifting Alliances

Trace stumbled back from Gale’s gunshot, clutching at her chest. Catskill knew she should do something, but she was frozen in shock. Gale- Gale hadn’t just-

Trace coughed, hacked. Some of the spittle that sprayed onto the ground was tinged red. “You-” She gasped. “What in the-”

“Shoot ’er again,” snapped Artemis. Gale nodded and loaded another bullet.

BANG.

Trace collapsed, wheezing. Blood pooled on the ground. Weakly, desperately, she started dragging herself to the door.

Something awoke inside Catskill, and before she knew it, she was out the door, galloping into Mystic, Trace slung over her back. She heard another BANG, but if it hit her, she didn’t feel it. She didn’t know where she was running to. That didn’t matter. What was important was where she was running from.

She heard Artemis yell something. A command? Catskill glanced over her shoulder. Gale followed her out of the doorway, arquebus at her side, and took to the skies, circling.

Stalked by pegasi twice in one day. What were the odds?

Catskill ran deeper and deeper into Mystic. She knew she couldn’t evade Gale, but that wasn’t the point. She just needed to get as far from Artemis as possible. Earth pony or not, she didn’t have Catskill’s infinite well of stamina. Catskill knew she could outrun Artemis, but first they had to do something about Gale.

Somehow.

Up alleys, down roads, across streets, the pair was halfway across Mystic before Catskill knew it. She scrambled down a side street towards an old pharmacy. That ought to be enough distance from Artemis for now. Not caring about Gale, Catskill came to a halt. She gingerly removed Trace from her back and laid her in a sitting position against a wall. She cringed; Trace’s furs were stained red and close to being soaked through. “How’re you doing?” asked Catskill. She swallowed.

“Positively… horrible,” gasped Trace. She coughed, hacked. “Leave me… Leave me be, I’ll only-”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Catskill said, forcing optimism into her voice. “I died yesterday, remember, and I’m still doing-”

“Don’t… delude… yourself…” moaned Trace. “I-”

“You’re not gone until you’re gone,” said Catskill. “I think I can-”

BANG. A bullet hit a house several yards away. Catskill twitched and looked up. Gale, still circling, had aimed the arquebus down and attempted to shoot them, but without a steady surface to brace the gun against, her aim was abysmal. She was already fumbling another bullet.

“Be back in a second,” Catskill said quickly. “Don’t go anywhere.” There was a pile of rather large stones nearby from a collapsed building, and Gale was awfully low. Maybe… Catskill ran down an alley, turned, and was confronted with exactly the pile she was looking for. Excellent.

Catskill dug through the debris as fast as she dared. It needed to be a good one. Not so big that it was hard to lift, yet big enough to do some serious damage if- This one. This was the one. Catskill pulled it from the mess and gave it one last look-over. Yes, quite good, nice and heavy.

Gale was still circling, still trying to load the bullet into the arquebus. Some part of Catskill wondered just how hard reloading was while flying, but the rest of her gripped the rock as tightly as she could with hooves. She closed one eye. She drew the rock back. And she threw the rock with all of her not-inconsiderable might.

Her aim was true. The rock hit Gale in the wing. Gale’s flight turned into an immediate downward spiral and she passed below rooftop level in seconds. Thud.

Catskill froze, then giggled. They had a chance, now. Run for the river, find Amanita and Bitterroot, and… make something up from there. Giddy, she raced back up the alleyway. Trace was leaning right where she’d left her. “I got her,” Catskill said, grinning. “We can run, move downriver. I hope Bitterroot found Amanita alright.”

Trace didn’t respond.

“H-hey… Trace?”

Trace didn’t respond. Didn’t even move.

“L-look…” Catskill stammered, knowing it was already far too late. “T-trace, we… can…” She collapsed against a wall and started blinking back tears. It wasn’t fair. It was not fair. Nothing in the past few days had gone right. She’d died trying to save somepony from a bear. She’d failed in putting some distance between Amanita and the ponies who were hunting her. She hadn’t been able to protect Amanita from their attacks. She hadn’t seen Artemis’s blatant antagonism for what it was. And she hadn’t even been able to ensure Trace didn’t die alone.

“I… T-Trace, I…” Catskill broke and wept, burying her face in her hooves. “I am so, s-so s-sorry…”

“Oh, ’ow touching,” a certain somepony spat contemptuously.

Catskill whirled around. Artemis was leaning against a wall, a coil of rope around her neck, glaring at Catskill and Trace like they were some kind of disgusting scum. Catskill flattened her ears, and if her heart had been beating, she was sure it would’ve beat its way right out of her chest. Words failed her. She simply charged Artemis with no plan except to rip her to shreds.

Artemis merely sidestepped Catskill and threw out a leg, catching her in the throat. It didn’t hurt, but it threw her out of her groove long enough for Artemis to pin her on the ground. She was already looping the rope around Catskill’s legs to bind them behind her back.

Catskill turned her head as much as she could and snapped at Artemis, but she was out of reach. Once she had Catskill reasonably bound, Artemis stepped away and began rummaging through her bags. But “reasonably bound” wasn’t much more than “almost free” for earth ponies. Catskill strained, and in spite of her terrible position, the knots slipped free. The ropes came loose-

Something sharp jabbed Catskill in the side of the neck and all her strength left her. She tried to move her legs, but she could barely move her head. She could barely move her eyes.

Artemis wrenched Catskill’s head to one side. “Y’know, it’s weird,” she said. “Stuff like this?” She wiggled a knife in Catskill’s face, runes inscribed down the fuller. “Ain’t no good ’gainst the livin’, ’cept how it’s already a knife. ’Gainst the dead, like you? Prime paralytic. It’s complicated, y’wouldn’t unnerstand it.” She grinned. “Magic’s a funny thin’, ain’t it?”

She set the knife aside. “Shame you’re dead already. Ain’t as fun. But I can manage.” She began withdrawing things from her bags — bones, jars, feathers, gems, chalk. And Catskill couldn’t move a muscle.


“A-Artemis?” asked Bitterroot, dumbstruck. “She’s your master?”

“She must be!” squealed Amanita. “She’s exactly the kind of pony Circe was and looks the same!” She attempted to wriggle out from beneath Bitterroot. “We need to move! If she catches us-”

“We barely have any supplies!” yelled Bitterroot. “I left mine in town and most of yours were probably ruined by the river! This was just supposed to be a short trip, not-”

“We can reach the Crystal Empire without starving to death!”

“Not without freezing to death! There’s wide plains between here and the Empire, and if we try to sleep out in the open there, we’ll be frozen solid by morning.”

“Sun blast it…” gasped Amanita. She took great, heaving breaths. “Okay, can, can you get off me? I don’t think well with people on me. Promise I won’t run.”

Bitterroot eyed Amanita, then stepped away. Amanita sat up and shook snow off her back. More deep breaths. “Okay, you- You’re positive we can’t make it to the Crystal Empire without supplies?”

“I’d bet my life on it,” said Bitterroot. But was that really much of a bet when a necromancer could just pull you back?

“So we need to go back to town,” mumbled Amanita, voicing her thoughts. “Which has a vengeful lich. And somepony else who probably hates my guts. And- Did… Artemis- Circe have any companions who behaved strangely?”

“A pegasus,” Bitterroot said. “Gale. She carried Circe’s bags even though Circe was an earth pony, didn’t speak, and…” Bitterroot’s spine turned cold as the pieces began coming together, not the least of which was- “Oh, Celestia, she didn’t sleep. She’s a thrall, isn’t she?”

“Probably.” Amanita nodded. “Any other ponies?”

Bitterroot fought to keep her shock from her mind. “Just Trace. She’s a unicorn and definitely not with Circe, but the two of them don’t get along, so if Circe’s pushed too far-”

“They’ll all be dead by the time we get back,” Amanita said tonelessly. “I know they will. We can’t go back to Mystic without walking into a trap.”

“If we don’t get our supplies-”

“It’s too risky!”

Everything’s risky!” yelled Bitterroot, flaring her wings. “What choice do we have?”

“Look,” groaned Amanita, “unless you can think of a way that’ll magically make it so that you can’t die, no matter what you do-”

Amanita kept talking, but Bitterroot didn’t hear her, for that was when everything crystallized in her mind. She had an idea. A crazy one, but it had been a crazy few days; anything else wouldn’t have worked. It was only fitting. “Kill me.”

Amanita’s train of thought derailed so thoroughly Bitterroot was sure she could hear the crash. Amanita blinked. Twice. “…What?!” she bellowed so loudly that nearby birds took to the air.

“Kill me and resurrect me. You can do that, right? Like you did with Catskill. I can’t die if I’m already dead.”

“But- But if something happens and I can’t bring you back after we’re done-”

“I’d rather die stopping a lich than let that lich live!”

Amanita opened her mouth, paused, and said, “I’ll need this off.” She pointed at the suppressor ring.

Bitterroot had the ring off in a second. “Now what?” she asked.

“Are you sure about this?” said Amanita, rubbing her horn.

No, said Bitterroot’s mind. “Yes,” said Bitterroot. “It’s the least bad option.”

Amanita laughed mirthlessly. “Super.” She dumped a pile of stuff from her saddlebags. “Look for a jar of clear stuff labelled ‘Raven’ and a bundle of branches marked ‘Yew’. And that’s Y-E-W, not Y-O-U.”

As Bitterroot dug through her pile, Amanita looked through her own bags. Bitterroot found the wood without much trouble, but she couldn’t find any such jar. The collection of items Amanita had was… interesting, to say the least. Bitterroot was willing to bet half of it was illegal ritual paraphernalia in Equestria, although-

“Sun blast it!” yelled Amanita. She was holding up a shard of glass with RAV printed on part of it and looked like she wanted to bite somepony’s head off. “Without this,” she muttered, “we’re screwed. I ca-”

“Do you need ravens?” said Bitterroot. “Maybe I can get some.”

“What, live ones?” Amanita tapped her chin. “I… guess that could work, but I- I’d need at least two of them-”

Bitterroot was already away, skimming trees. She didn’t really know where ravens would be, she admitted, but how hard could it be? Maybe she could find a raven or two in just five minutes.

Half an hour later, she got lucky. A wolf had died not long ago and a conspiracy of ravens was feasting on the corpse. Bitterroot managed to snag three of them at once; the rest flew away, shrieking. Holding her protesting captives tightly to her chest, Bitterroot winged her way back to the river.

Amanita was pacing back and forth; she’d been doing it long enough to melt the snow and expose grass where she was walking. She looked up when she heard Bitterroot and the ravens and nearly melted herself. “Thank Celestia,” she sighed. “I was ready to start sending out flares.”

“Sorry,” said Bitterroot. A raven’s wing hit her in the face and she tightened her grip on them. “Took a little longer than I expected. These good?”

“They’re great,” Amanita said, smiling in relief. “You know, this might be better than the jar. It’s fresher.” She took the ravens into her magic and immediately twisted their heads until their necks snapped.

Bitterroot yelped. “What- Amanita, what are you-?”

But Amanita wasn’t listening. She took a knife and gouged out the ravens’ eyes, one by one. “I’m doing necromancy,” she snapped. She crushed one of the eyes, letting the jelly drip into the jar. “They don’t need to be dead, but I do need their eyes.” She crushed another eye in the same way. “And out here, they won’t last long without eyes.” Drip drip drip. “At least now, they died quickly.”

“Is all that…” Bitterroot gagged; eye jelly smelled revolting, like nothing she’d ever smelled before. “Is it really nec-”

Yes it’s necessary!” screamed Amanita. “This is old magic, Bitterroot! Stuff like horns, wings, a connection with the land, they’re all shortcuts to what’s really beneath reality. This?” She waved one of the dead ravens in Bitterroot’s face. “This is what you need to invoke those powers when you can’t use those shortcuts. We’ve forgotten it now, but magic used to come at a price.” She crushed another eye and met Bitterroot’s gaze. “Are you willing to pay that price?”

The ravens were already dead. It’d come quickly. They were stopping a lich. Bitterroot swallowed. “Y-yes.”

“Be thankful I’m a unicorn,” muttered Amanita, plucking a single feather from a raven, “or this would be even worse.”

After that, Amanita worked feverishly, her horn glowing all the while. She sketched out a circle in the snow with one of the yew sticks and burned herbs. She carved runes into four more sticks, dipped them into the raven eye jelly, and put one at each cardinal direction of the circle. She sketched something out on a strip of parchment and wrapped it around Bitterroot’s leg. Finally, she spat into the circle and said to Bitterroot, “Get in and lie on your back.”

Bitterroot was brimming with questions, but they needed as much time as they could get. She did as she was told, stretching out her legs and wings and breathing deeply. Amanita muttered something — it almost sounded like a chant to Bitterroot — and stood over her, holding a knife. She kept looking at it like it was ready to explode as she pressed the blade against an artery. “You know I’m sorry about this, right?”

“Yeah. But I trust you,” said Bitterroot, looking Amanita in the eye. What was strange was that she did. She felt something primal trying to claw its way out of space in the ground beneath her, was lying in the middle of a clear ritual circle, at the mercy of a pony with a knife at her throat, and she still trusted Amanita. She couldn’t afford to not trust Amanita.

Amanita didn’t look away. She smiled sheepishly. She sliced Bitterroot’s throat open. And within seconds, Bitterroot was dead.


Catskill attempted to twitch her hoof. Just an inch. It didn’t work.

Artemis was humming to herself as she arranged her items on the ground. She’d dragged Trace’s body away from the wall and was scratching runes into her skin with the point of a dagger. “Goes easier like this,” she said, winking at Catskill. “Don’t last as long as a proper raisin’, but that ain’t ’portant right now.”

Heavy hoofsteps came down the alley. For half a second, Catskill thought maybe there was somepony else out here, but it was just Gale. The skin on one side of her face had been ripped away and it looked like part of her ribcage had been crushed. Now that she wasn’t keeping her wing down, Catskill could see a dozen ragged stab wounds through her shredded furs. She was also missing her scarf, revealing a yawning gash in her throat. But aside from a limp on a dislocated leg, she moved like a normal pony.

Gale bowed deeply to Artemis. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Her voice rasped hideously from the hole in her throat. “I did my best-”

Artemis shooed her away. “Don’t worry, I got ’em. Y’can still fly, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re gonna do some scoutin’ in a few minutes. Bitterroot was nice ’nough t’tell us where she was goin’.”

Gale bowed again, backed away, and stood as still as a statue.

Artemis shoved a herb into Trace’s mouth, and suddenly the magic in the earth beneath Catskill began crawling. She would’ve run if she could. It was a warm feeling, yet sickly, lifeless, and vomitous, like she was reaching down her throat and pulling out the food she’d eaten for dinner. The warmth of decay, of rot. It seemed to be coalescing around Artemis and Trace. Artemis muttered a few words, plucked and burned a hair from Trace’s mane, and stepped back.

Trace’s body shuddered. Her eyes rolled backwards into her head and she beat at the ground. The ill feeling beneath Catskill vanished, and Trace stood up.

But somehow, it wasn’t Trace. Forget the cold, blue fire burning in her eyes. She- It moved wrong. It was calculated and precise, not the easy, loose movements Catskill associated with Trace. “Trace” bowed to Artemis. “What do you want of me, ma’am?” she asked. Her voice didn’t sound right, either.

“I don’t like you,” Artemis said gruffly. “Go find some broken glass an’ bring it ’ere. Can’t be that ’ard t’find glass in a place like this, can it?”

Trace bowed again and walked into Mystic.

“Now,” said Artemis quietly, tilting her head so she was looking Catskill in the eyes. “You.” She smiled. “You’re gonna be easy, if’n Amanita did what I think she did. Lesse…” She laid a hoof on Catskill’s shoulder. Catskill mentally writhed as something slithered down her free will. “Yep, yep. Here we go...” Artemis lightly stabbed Catskill in the shoulder and soaked up some of the blood with a scrap of cloth.

After about a minute of Artemis doing her work, Trace returned, a clinking bag in her teeth. She dropped the bag in front of Artemis and opened it up. Light glinted off of dozens of sharp-edged pieces of glass. “As requested, ma’am,” said Trace, dipping her head in reverence.

Artemis didn’t even look at her. “Good. Eat it.

Trace obediently scooped up a hoofful of shards, stuffed them into her mouth, and chewed. Blood dripped, trickled, poured from her mouth. Catskill prayed the pain-induced twitches she saw were her imagination.

“Now,” murmured Artemis, “we should jus’…” She struck flint, lighting a tiny fire, and tossed the blood-soaked cloth into it.

It felt like Catskill’s mind had been dunked in acid; that was the only way she could describe it. Her thoughts and desires suddenly hurt on a level she’d never felt before. Thinking of running became as reprehensible as burying somepony alive or butchering a foal. Any urge to simply do her job as a ranger became this grotesque, unthinkable thing. Her memories vanished like balloons with cut strings.

Catskill clung to her sense of self. It was all she had. It was all that remained as the fire burned everything else away like trash in an incinerator. She was Catskill, Ranger of Equestria. She was Catskill. She was Catskill. She was Catskill. She was Catskill…

“Alrighty,” said Artemis cheerfully. “Aaaand…” She nonchalantly sliced through the runes cut into Catskill’s neck. Strength flooded her body again, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. Catskill “pulled” as hard as she could, begging, pleading for her legs to move, but it was like her free will was encased in iron. Nothing worked. Even thinking of not getting up took a mental effort.

“Get up,” said Artemis.

In an almost dreamlike fashion, Catskill’s legs pulled themselves together and stood her up. Catskill tried to stay down, but she had less of a chance of disobeying than she did stopping an avalanche. She couldn’t scream in frustration or fear; her lungs didn’t work. She couldn’t even look away from Artemis; her eyes refused to budge. Her body had been hijacked and she was locked in.

“Huh,” said Artemis, squinted at Catskill’s eyes. “Y’ain’t fully down, I don’t think. …Walk two feet for’ard.”

In spite of her best efforts, Catskill’s legs walked two feet forward.

“Huh. Say ‘test’.”

Catskill tried gnawing her tongue off, but her voice said, “Test.”

“Hmm. Y’seem t’be workin’ fine. Ah, well.” Artemis shrugged and pointed at Trace. “You. Stop eatin’.”

Trace spat out the glass in her mouth and stood silently. Her lips weren’t much more than mangled hunks of bloody flesh.

Artemis paced in front of her thralls, grinning. “They’ll never know what ’it ’em,” she snickered. “We’ll get Bitterroot and Amanita both, an’...” She glanced between Trace and Gale. Her grin grew wider. “Y’know, I could use a gang o’ mercenaries. Keep guards away. Try t’keep Bitterroot intact, will ya?”

As one, Catskill’s voice, Trace, and Gale said, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

“But Amanita…” Artemis’s face darkened and Catskill could almost feel the dark magic gathering beneath her hooves. “Oooh, Amanita. I’m gonna kill ’er,” Artemis snarled. “Then I’m gonna bring ’er back. Then I’m gonna kill ’er again. And again. And again. And again!” She stomped on the ground and roared, “Every day! For cent’ries! That trait’rous coward’s gonna suffer for so long she won’t know ’OW t’beg for death!”

In a blink, Artemis snapped to smiles again. “But we need t’catch ’er first. Gale, get up in th’ air. Follow th’ river. Amanita an’ Bitterroot went down it, so that’s where we’ll find ’em. Once y’see ’em, git back ’ere an’ tell us. We’ll be walkin’ downriver an’ meet up wi’ you.”

Gale saluted and took to the skies. Catskill tried to run, but her legs didn’t even quiver.

“An’ us three?” Artemis rubbed her hooves together. “We’re gettin’ all th’ weapons we can carry so we can end them. You.” She pointed at Catskill. “You got a blunderbuss, don’tcha?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Catskill’s voice. “With plenty of shells.” She had trouble even remembering what she was fighting against. But it was probably important to fight. She fought.

“Heh. I am a happy mare t’day. Come.” Artemis clicked her tongue and walked down an alley. Catskill’s body and Trace walked after her. All the while, Catskill struggled to get free of herself, even as her mind was slowly worn down.


Bitterroot woke up.

Her leg didn’t hurt anymore. That probably meant something.

Staring at the gray sky, she asked, “Did it work?” She was prepared for her voice to sound two-toned, but it sounded normal. She rubbed her throat. There was a big, thick scar around her neck. No gap. “Huh. You did a good job on this.”

There was a rasping cough.

“Amanita?” Bitterroot sat up and looked around. Amanita was hunched over next to the circle, holding her throat and gasping. Bitterroot raced over, ignoring the sudden blast of cold, and laid her hooves on her. “Amanita!

But Amanita waved her off. “I’m fine,” she rasped. “Magic- just- took a lot- outta me. Back to normal- few minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Done this- before. Yes- sure.” Amanita sucked in a breath. It sounded like she was getting strangled.

Bitterroot eyed Amanita suspiciously, but at least Amanita wasn’t getting worse. “Okay, I’m… I’m gonna…” She searched for the right words. What was she supposed to say for this? “…try out… being dead.”

Amanita nodded and pulled herself over to a tree.

After giving Amanita one last look, Bitterroot walked away, not in any direction in particular. She paid attention to her body like she’d never done before. And she almost, almost felt normal. Her legs behaved the way they ought. The air was cold and tugged at her mane. Her eyes weren’t seeing any strange colors or grayscales. The only thing wrong was that the cold didn’t seem as biting as normal, like the difference between a wet heat and a dry heat. No wonder Catskill hadn’t known she was dead. Bitterroot knew she was dead and was having a hard time believing it.

Bitterroot started galloping. Then she sped up. And more. She could keep running, she knew. She could keep running forever. And if she could do that… She turned for the river, spread her wings, and climbed. And climbed and climbed. She tore through the clouds, hovering above the forest below and to the north, above the scrubland to the south, above the mountains all around. She grinned to herself. The climb was the hardest part of flying, but here she was, doing it without the least bit of strain. She never thought she’d say anything like this, but being dead wasn’t half bad.

Of course, Amanita had taken steps to ensure it wasn’t half bad. She had literally lain down and let somepony kill her. She was pushing her luck.

Bitterroot pulled a loop and rocketed back to Amanita’s location. She flared her wings at the last second and hit the ground hard. This usually sent tingling shocks of mild pain up her legs, but she felt nothing at all. Amanita was right where she’d been left, still wheezing, but breathing a little more smoothly. “Still all right?” asked Bitterroot.

“I’m fine,” grumbled Amanita. And she dissolved into a coughing fit. “I just hauled you from the afterlife on fifty percent pure will,” she gasped. “If I wasn’t a bit strained, something’d be wrong.”

“I feel fine, by the way,” said Bitterroot. She rolled all of her limbs, one by one. No issues. “We could kill everypony and make them immortal through death,” she joked.

Amanita coughed again. “You need a frequent input of magic to keep your soul in your body,” she said. “And-”

A shadow passed over them and they both looked up. A pegasus was circling them above. Bitterroot squinted, trying to make out- Her jaw dropped. That was Gale. But if she was a thrall, she couldn’t be paralyzed, right? But if she was openly flying, then… Oh, Celestia. What had Circe done to Trace and Catskill?

Bitterroot took to the skies immediately, climbing until she was level with Gale. But Gale saw her and was immediately off like a shot, heading upriver. “Hey!” Bitterroot yelled, giving chase. “You get-” But she stopped. She couldn’t leave Amanita alone. Groaning, she turned around and flew back.

“Bad news,” she said to Amanita. “You know that pegasus friend of Circe’s that didn’t sleep? Circe claimed she had a paralyzed wing, but now she’s flying freely.”

“Mother of…” Amanita rubbed her forehead, right at the base of her horn. “I… I hate to tell you this, but… Circe’s probably killed and enthralled everypony else in the village.”

“I figured,” Bitterroot said quietly. Why’d she leave them? Why’d she leave them? To talk to some necromancer? She should’ve taken everyone with her. She should’ve taken everyone but Circe and Gale. She should’ve known something was up with Circe, with her insistence that everypony sucked but her. She should’ve just picked her up and dropped her back in the mill. She should’ve she should’ve she should’ve…

But that was hindsight. Bitterroot knew that relying on hindsight could drive her mad. Plus, she wouldn’t see what was in front of her if she kept looking back. And what was in front of her was an angry lich with three thralls under her command.

So. What to do about it?

“You wouldn’t happen to know any anti-necromancy spells, would you?” Bitterroot asked. She figured she knew the answer; she was just checking off all the boxes. “I know about fire and silver.”

“You think Circe would teach me spells like those?” Amanita responded. “I could probably come up with one given a, I don’t know, a day, but now?” She snorted. “Not a chance. And, no, I don’t have enough ingredients for anything you can use. There’s also salt, but you need a lot of it and I don’t have any.”

“No salt here, so we’re stuck with fire and silver,” said Bitterroot, her mind already racing. “While we’re outnumbered and outgunned. If you have silver.”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.” Several somethings were nagging at Bitterroot’s mind. First, something about fire. She’d seen it recently. At the undead bear’s death. Second, something about the land, something she’d seen from the sky. What were they, what were they

Amanita rubbed her temples. “Come on, Amanita,” she muttered, “you should know how to get out of this…”

Then an idea came to Bitterroot. An idea almost as crazy as “kill me so I won’t die”. A nice addition to it, then. She just needed to confirm one thing. “Amanita, shields block out fire, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Amanita said, frowning. “Why?”

Ding. Perfect. “I have a plan,” Bitterroot said, flaring her wings, “but we need to start moving now.”

“We can’t outrun them,” Amanita said in a voice that implied she’d thought it over before. “Even if you carry me and fly nonstop, you’ll be weighed down and never make it to the Crystal Empire before-”

“We don’t need to beat them to the Crystal Empire,” said Bitterroot, grinning. “We just need to beat them to some scrublands south of here. Preferably while leaving a clear trail.”

Amanita tilted her head and frowned for a long time. “…Do I want to know whatever plan you have?”

“Probably not.”

“Tell me anyway.”