If not for Mihn's strong press, Chan would have jumped out of his skin as the scream hit his ears. Please tell me that's not–

Moments lter, a goblin raced past the tree on their left, cargo pants splattered with blood that was clearly not his own. Then, a Void Tiger leapt through the same space like predation personified. The goblin poacher disappeared beneath a handful of purple stripes not three yards in front of Chan. There was a strangled sob, a crunch, then silence. 

It had all taken a bare handful of seconds.

Chan carefully didn't stare at the section of forest that swallowed the moonlight, didn't listen to the wet ripping sounds that emanated from there. Instead, he looked accusingly at Mihn.

She was still pressing him against the tree, her face not even a foot from his. Her teeth glinted. “What? I didn’t do anything.” She sounded way too smug. Smug, unapologetic, and delighted.

 Chan couldn't respond. A sour taste was creeping up his throat. He just shook his head.

Mihn's satisfied grin hardened into something challenging. "I'm not going to mourn a couple of poachers, Chan. I'm going to celebrate the safety their deaths mean for everything else."

And Chan couldn’t disagree. It was a load off his mind, knowing there were two less people planning to kill Anjeon’s magical animals. He just wished there was a less permanent way to get there.

He stayed tight-lipped as he pushed himself up off of the tree, pressing his chest into Mihn’s palm. She withdrew her hand and dropped the arm she had braced against the tree, finally allowing him to stand. Despite the tumult in his mind and the bile in his throat, he missed her warmth immediately.

He looked at the dirty little sack in his hand. Mihn followed his gaze and took a few rapid steps away, lip curling. “And that needs to be destroyed, too.”

“How do you plan we do that?” Chan said tiredly. How much sleep had he gotten? Two hours? Three? 

“I don’t know,” she said sourly. “But I bet Injae does.”

Chan still heard the Void Tiger eating the poacher. “Yeah,” he croaked, feeling his stomach churn ominously. “Let’s go.” He sprinted to his flying carpet and made it shoot above the trees, the magical bag nestled in the crook of his arm.

As Mihn and Chan flew towards headquarters, magical creatures gathered on the ground beneath them, following like metal filings attracted to a magnet far below. Lion turtles, hydra, and basilisks joined the mass beneath Chan’s flying carpet, while griffins and phoenixes and a handful of dragons winged close. 

The grounded creatures fell behind quickly–lion turtles had no speed worth mentioning–and the dragons, griffins, and phoenixes peeled off after a few miles. The unicorns, however, thundered over grassland and woodland to keep up with the flying carpets.

As they neared Headquarters, the rising sun at their backs, Chan automatically headed toward the Ranger’s Cabin.

Over the wind and the stampeding hooves Mihn shouted, “If you take that thing inside, the unicorns are going to destroy the cabin!” Even though she hadn’t said it, her face screamed “you’re an idiot.”

Chan brought his carpet to a halt over the trees at the edge of headquarter’s clearing. “I’m guessing you’re not too keen on sleeping close to it, right?” hollered back Chan, his instinctual need to tease more powerful than his rapidly-fading turmoil. So what if Mihn was joyful over the deaths of two poachers? He’d always known she was ruthless, and liked her anyway.

She gave him a flat look, hovering on her own carpet a few yards away. Beneath them, wood snapped and trees swayed. Some unicorns spilled out of the forest, whinnying loudly.

Chan regarded the warm canvas bag tucked beneath his arm. It seemed far too plain, too unassuming to be the source of all this commotion. 

Pink light spilled over the valley, and with it came a motorcycle, its loud engine undetectable under the cacophony of frenzied unicorns. Chan twitched towards it–still small with distance–but stopped. Instead, he pointed excitedly, and Mihn whirled.

“Injae will know what to do,” breathed Chan just as Mihn said, “Finally someone with brains gets here.”

They didn’t hear each other.

They waited another minute until the electric blue motorcycle slowed to a stop outside Injae’s home. She dismounted, removed her steampunk-esque goggles with a flick of her wrist, and raised her eyebrows at the two Rangers circling above a noisy horde of unicorns. Her bangs stuck straight up in front.

Chan swooped his carpet towards their boss, only for Mihn to get in his way. “Do you want her to get trampled?” she snarled. It was a good thing Chan was laying down already, because his knees went weak at the sight. 

“Stay here. I’ll explain.” Mihn flew down and rearranged herself until she was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, speaking to Injae with animated hands. Judging by Injae’s tap on her lip, she was intrigued, but not anxious. A bit of Chan’s own anxiety dissipated at that. If  Injae was not alarmed, Chan didn’t need to be either.

Injae disappeared inside her house for a minute, then came back out, handing something to Mihn. In a blink, Injae transformed into her nine-tailed fox form and jumped nimbly onto the carpet behind Mihn. They flew up to meet Chan, Injae’s nine russet tails hanging off the back of the carpet like a fluffy fan.

Mihn’s lip lifted higher and higher in a distasteful sneer as she nudged her carpet closer and closer to Chan’s and the dirty little sack he carried. 

“Hey, boss,” Chan said as Injae wound her way in front of Mihn, tails brushing his partner’s neck. The fox gave Chan a pointed look.

“Right. Sorry.” Chan scrambled up, leaving space at the front of his carpet for her to leap across. Her little paws landed deftly in front of Chan’s knees. At another pointed look, Chan held the bundle in front of her.

Injae squinted at it, sniffed it, and poked it with her nose and tongue. She put one paw on Chan’s knee, then gestured upwards with her nose. 

Chan made the flying carpet soar straight up. Mihn followed.

Injae peered over the side, ears and nose twitching the whole time. When she tapped Chan’s knee once more and Chan halted their ascent, she sniffed the bag once more. Her tails swished as she sat primly, then transformed instantaneously back into her human form, sitting on her knees with her hands folded on top of them. Her denim-clad knees bumped Chan’s khaki-clad ones. 

“This is a powerful and unusual piece of magic,” Injae intoned gravely. Wispy clouds wreathed the three, the unicorns quieter with distance.  “We are almost a mile up and it is still affecting the unicorns. We’re going to need a great witch to nullify it for us.” 

Mihn huffed and crossed her arms. “A witch? Really? How do we know the great witch we use isn’t the same one who made this?” The jut of her chin toward the bundle was accusatory.

Injae narrowed her eyes at Mihn. “I’m not going to send you to fetch a questionable witch, Mihn.”

Mihn’s outraged “Fetch?!” was cut off as Injae continued: “Hanji is the greatest artifact witch I’ve ever seen.” 

Chan listened intently, dawn light painting Injae golden. With her sharp features and piercing voice, she seemed like a goddess, an oracle, an otherworldly being who knew more than mere mortals. Which is exactly what she was.

“Not only is he the most skilled, his creativity is unparalleled, his morals are high, and he’s just plain good. He’d never make something like this,” Injae said, staring directly at Mihn.

“Even good people can be blackmailed,” Mihn shot back, somehow managing to look dangerous even laying flat on her stomach, clutching the flying carpet.

“I vouch for him, Mihn,” Injae said intently.

Wait a second. Chan squinted first at Injae, then at Mihn. These two were talking about something else, something more. 

A muscle ticked in Mihn’s jaw once, twice, before she nodded sharply.  

Injae relaxed, and pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and held it out to Chan. “You two go get him. Bring him back here ASAP.”

Chan took the proffered paper as Mihn hunched her shoulders. “I don’t want to visit any witches,” Mihn spat. “Chan can go by himself.”

Chan stuffed the paper into his pocket. “I’m fine going alone, boss,” he said easily. “I’m sure having a witch-hater in his shop won’t endear this Hanji to us.” He shot Mihn a soft look. “No offense.”

“I’m offended that you said no offense.” 

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Injae shook her head. “We have a better chance of Hanji agreeing to help if the both of you go.”

That made Chan’s ears prick up. “Agreeing to help? We’ll just hire him, right?”

Injae grimaced. “Hanji is the best, and that makes him very selective in the jobs he takes on. He always has hundreds of people clamoring for his work.”

Mihn snorted. “Great. A snooty witch.”

For once, Chan kept his attention where it mattered (which was not Mihn’s cutely wrinkled nose). “So how will both of us being there help convince him? You want us to go good cop, bad cop on him?”

Injae patted Chan’s knee, the dawn still washing her in the light of divinity. “Just trust me. Hanji will find Mihn interesting. And Hanji will choose interesting over boring any day.” Then she grinned, the slant of her teeth decidedly mischievous. “You’re there to do the talking, Channie. I don’t trust Mihn to word our request properly. Or to do it without you to wrangle her.”

“We’ll see who wrangles who.” Mihn’s mutter carried across the clouds to Chan, who turned pinker than the sunrise.

Injae nudged Chan’s carpet until it was directly alongside Mihn’s. “Get over there, Channie. I’ll take this carpet and this blasted bundle to the other side of the mountain. Keep the unicorns safe until you get back. The faster the better.”

With a groan, Mihn gave Chan a mildly irritated look, cheek smooshed against the carpet. Flying carpets might have space for only a single body, but the weight of two was no problem. And if they were flying quickly, sitting upright in a line was out of the question. Nobody wanted to be thrown off the edge.

Which meant a pancake situation.

Chan gleefully scooted onto Mihn, first his arms on either side of her head, then his knees on either side of her hips. Then he lowered himself until he lay flush against her back, hooking his hands beneath her strong shoulders.

“I’m your human cape,” he giggled into her ear. He relished her warmth beneath him, the cushy, solid muscles of her shoulders, back, and thighs. If he could, he’d stay like this forever. Barring that, he’d take the next half hour and be grateful.

“I wish you were as light as a cape,” Mihn grunted before turning the carpet towards the city. 

Chan threw a wave at Injae’s rapidly shrinking form as Mihn sped them away into the sun.