“Near here” turns out to be a six-hour walk, not that either of them show any sign of fatigue by the time they arrive. During that time the sheet snags every five minutes as if it were on a schedule. The only reason Achillea doesn’t snap at him again is that by this point Mordecai is every bit as frustrated as she is.

Eventually they come across a strange little cottage sitting at the base of a large tree. The tree’s trunk is thick enough that Achillea could cut it down and lie on the stump without an inch of her hanging over the edge. Its leaves form a wide canopy over the area, bathing it in shade. Not just the tree but all of the plants in the area seem greener, healthier, and larger than normal wild plants, and it isn’t until Mordecai notices this that he realizes what’s so odd about the cottage.

The cottage isn’t made of planks. Rather, it seems to be built out of uncut tendrils of wood that nonetheless fit perfectly together, leaving no gaps. But what Mordecai realizes is that the cottage doesn’t have a foundation; the wooden walls are rooted directly into the ground with actual, literal roots. The entire building is made of living trees twisted while still growing into the shape of a domicile. The roof, which he had originally thought to be made of bright green shingles, is formed from the leaves of the trees. The only things inorganic about the cottage are the door, window, and chimney, which all appear to be made from a delicate, glittering metal and glass.

Elven architecture in all its splendor. Therefore, Mordecai isn’t terribly surprised to see an elf behind the counter when they walk in, though the elf is surprised to see him.

Casually, Achillea reaches down behind the counter and pulls the cowering elf back into view. The elf is around the same height as Mordecai with wavy auburn hair and large silver eyes that stare at him in terror. “Durz—!” he cries out, pointing a shaky hand in his direction.

Achillea cuts him off with a rough shake, leaning down and hissing in his pointed ear, “I told you never to call me that again!”

“Durz?” Come to think of it, that does sound like a more traditional orcish name than Achillea. To his surprise and concern, she shakes the elf again, harder, and growls threateningly.

“Sorry—Achillea—” he stammers, “but are you aware that there’s a boneman next to you?”

“No shit,” she replies, clearly not in the mood for this. “I’m here to stock up on healing potions and I’m calling in my favor.”

The elf’s eyes widen and he utters a resigned “Oh.” Achillea sets him back on his feet. He eyes Mordecai warily for a moment. When the skeleton does nothing to provoke or startle him, he edges over to a corner of the shop and starts gathering bottles. “What do you want, then? A cure? Because I still don’t have that.”

She whacks him with the butt end of her spear. “Loose lips sink ships, Rhoth. You still got your old armor?”

Rhoth arches an eyebrow at her. “Yes, why?”

Achillea sizes him up, hovering one hand just over the crown of Rhoth’s head and the other above Mordecai’s, comparing the two. It takes Rhoth a minute to catch on.

“You’re joking, right?” When he realizes that she is not joking, he puffs up in indignation. “No, absolutely not! That armor is a legacy of my days as an adventurer—”

“Not like you’re using it anymore. Besides, from what I remember you weren’t so much an adventurer as you were a walking danger magnet, and you weren’t strong or smart enough to get yourself out of trouble so you needed hired mercs to bail you out.”

“…And I will not give it to you just so you can play dress-up with a corpse!” Rhoth continues as though Achillea hasn’t said a thing.

“I’m standing right here you know.” Rhoth jumps at the sound of Mordecai’s voice. It’s oddly satisfying to see. He turns to Achillea. “Are you going to keep me out of the loop or are you going to introduce us?”

Achillea rolls her eyes. “Mordecai, Rhothomir. Rhoth, Mordecai. Saved his ass when a merc turned on him ‘cause he wouldn’t pay up,” she points at Rhoth, then jerks a thumb at Mordecai, “fought off a mob of ten people with silver weapons together and now I’m leading him up north.”

Rhoth sniffs haughtily. “Consorting with the undead now? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re going to be hunted down by exorcists and you’ll deserve whatever happens.”

Mordecai turns to glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t mind him,” Achillea pipes in. “He’s an elf. And we’re taking that armor whether you hand it to us willingly or not. You owe me, remember?”

Rhoth looks like he’s going to protest again, but Achillea draws herself up to full height. The protest dies on his lips and he wilts, conceding. “Fine. It’ll be good to finally be rid of you anyway.”

“Likewise,” Achillea sneers, following the elf into a back room.

They return shortly with not just a leather breastplate, but also a pair of boots, gloves, undershirt, cowl, and a new pair of pants to replace his stained, threadbare ones. The elf looks none too happy about giving up his clothes so Mordecai accepts them gleefully and begins to remove his own armor.

Rhoth lets out a squeak of protest. “He’s going to change right in the middle of the store?!”

Achillea snorts. “Not like he’s got anything to see.” She then directs Rhoth over to the counter to pay for the potions.

Mordecai fumbles with the clasps of the old armor. It’s a strange thing to realize that he hasn’t taken it off in the entire time he’s been wandering the woods. He guesses there was never any reason to since he doesn’t need to sleep or use the bathroom anymore.

The new armor is made of intricately layered strips of leather, sturdy enough but flexible, studded with the same metal used in the elf’s door and fireplace. The shirt is thick and long-sleeved, meant for warmer weather. The gloves and boots are made for someone with a more slender frame than the average human male, which is fine since Mordecai is about as slim as it gets. They have buckles at the wrists and ankles, all the better to keep them from falling off.

But of course, his favorite new article is the cowl. Ah, to no longer hide in the shade when the day comes! To walk boldly in the sunlight without stopping to rest! With it he can cover twice as much ground as he could before. Except, of course, for the fact that his traveling companion needs to sleep.

Funny how something that was once a fact of life is now just an inconvenience.

He’s almost dressed when Achillea’s head snaps up, eyes darting to the door. “Someone’s coming,” she hisses.

Mordecai fumbles to grab his old armor and what few articles he hasn’t put on yet as he’s ushered into the back room. Achillea pokes her head back out into the shop and gives Rhoth a commanding glare. “We’re not here.” Her tone has the edge of a threat. She then retreats into the back with Mordecai and closes the door behind her.