It was discomforting, knowing she wasn’t a valued member of the party. The later additions, Rook and the half-dead boy, were more welcome than her. They were serpentine. She was not. Only Gwendolyn was lower on the totem pole, and that was because Whisk was doing her damnedest to ensure the elf kept making a fool of herself. If the dragons were going to ditch or eat one of them, Whisk refused to be first.

Vaughon's silhouette glanced back at her through the darkness.

Yes, yes, I’m keeping up.

Whisk stretched her smile wide, determined to maintain their image of her as the carefree unicorn.

The route they were taking was hardly a path. There was no main light source, and the glowing stones in Kissa’s hand barely revealed the huge rocks that littered the floor. The dragons lithely moved their muscular frames over each hurdle, while she struggled to leap from one solid point to the next. And she swore they had some sort of night vision going on.

Her lip quivered.

Keep it together, Whisk, she thought, blinking back tears. They have a way out. Let them think I’m their willing prisoner. As soon as we’re above ground, I’ll run if necessary.

And could she run—She was the fastest in her school, a two-time provincial champion in track and field. Though none of that helped here. Even her sandals, kept solely to protect the bottom of her feet, worked against her, blistering her heels and restraining her agility.

Rook smoothly slid down a chunk of solid boulder beside her.

Unfairly graceful lizards—

“Fuck,” Rook muttered as he stubbed his toe at the bottom.

Whisk’s smile shifted into a genuine one.

Well, at least one of the dragons wasn’t quite so nimble. Compared to the others, Rook’s physical form still had a ways to grow for his species. Though it was likely his injuries hindering him in this circumstance, rather than any natural difference in build.

Ashton swooped in to assist, but Rook trudged on at a faster pace, pretending not to notice. The older dragon backed off, but maintained a watchful eye on him.

Whisk barely stuffed down a snort. After so little to laugh at, the party’s interactions felt absurdly entertaining.

They with entering the fringes of a populated area. The path slowly cleared of larger debris, with minimalistic architecture carved into the walls down broader passages. Despite the trail’s improved condition, it still took hours to traverse, since they had to slow down in precaution of running into any outliers. There was a slight stench. Goblins had a unique smell, one she associated most closely with cooked peas, but it was old. No one had travelled to the outskirts of whatever city this was in some time.

Eventually the tunnels resumed their unfriendly flooring. The goblin scent dwindled. Despite this, the dragons kept quiet.

Ashton took point, taking Vaughon with him, and Brennan disappeared behind them for the fifth time. Whisk wasn’t happy about losing her guide, but she felt better when she was herded next to Rook. Alongside the dragon’s prize, she was probably safer than anywhere else.

Catching a whiff of something in the air had her turning her head toward the young dragon. Dried blood, smoke, and—She took a deeper breath. Rook glanced her way, so she pretended to be fighting a sneeze. The smell wasn’t important for now, but worth cataloguing for later.

Gwendolyn stumbled at a sudden knocking sound further up the tunnel. Despite being light footed, Gwendolyn was blinder than Whisk and still barefoot. The elf’s grinding teeth was music to Whisk’s ears. It meant she was still not the one worst off

Three taps sounded ahead, like metal on stone. A pause. Then, two taps.

The pattern had Whisk tilting her head here and there, trying to pinpoint the source. Though impossible, it felt like her ears physically turned towards the rubble of a collapsed side tunnel. Through the persistent knocking, she heard the slight crunch of gravel.

“There’s someone on the other side of that cave-in!” Whisk whispered.

Kissa shushed her.

“They might need help,” Whisk persisted, intrigued by the dragon’s indifference and willing to push the subject to understand them a little more. “What if they’re not goblins?”

“They aren’t goblins,” Kissa confirmed. She kept quiet as they passed the point and the knocking now sounded behind them. Only then did she add, “They’re tommyknockers. Ignore them.”

“Tommy-what?”

“Little men, like leprechauns, that knock on stone to trick miners,” Rook said. “Henry used to…” He quieted, then muttered under his breath, “Shouldn’t have zoned out during so many of his spiels.”

Pity arose in Whisk. Henry was likely a friend. Was he just as disgruntled as she was, despite being with his kind? Or maybe, he didn’t sense it. Perhaps he wasn’t as attuned to this world as she.

“So, they’re tricksters?” she asked.

“Amongst other things,” Kissa replied.

“Are they bad?”

“They will more often lure you away through endless tunnels than show you the way out. Much like a unicorn will in an enchanted forest.”

“But why would they do that? What would they have to gain?”

“To eat their victims or steal supplies.” Kissa gave a small shrug, careful not to dislodge the siren from her back. “Not even the goblins and dwarves know much about the elusive pests, despite their territories intertwining.”

Gwendolyn’s foot skidded down into a small trench. Water splashed up, hitting Rook and Whisk.

“I can’t feel my toes, I’m so cold!” the elf moaned.

Everyone ignored her.

Whisk jumped to a higher rock. From here, she made out small streams of water weaving around the rocks towards them.

“We’re going uphill! Is that a pond ahead?”

The pond proved to be a water reservoir; man-made, but forgotten with time. Worn stepping stones, just above the water line, looked like large lily pads. These were part of a larger stone circle that’d long since been flooded by the water, with glowing algae lining the bottom. The yellow glow was off-putting for anyone wanting a drink, and at the center was a hole so dark it reminded Whisk of outer space.

Rook pressed against the wall, as if he couldn’t get far enough away from the water. Only when Kissa gave him a curious look did he force himself to approach, but even then, he looked skittish.

Are dragons afraid of water?

Ashton and Vaughon stopped beside a small waterfall that fed the pond. It ran from a worn hole in the wall, large enough for a person to fit crouched. The drizzle was quickly dampening Vaughon’s clothes and Ashton had a foot in the pond for balance. Neither seemed to care. However, she noted, Ashton kept the dark hole in his line of sight, his lips firmly pressed together.

Vaughon helped each of them up into the waterfall’s passage.

There was no dry point to stand on. The water reached Whisk's calves, and the bottom of her skirt was quickly drenched. Gwendolyn begged Vaughon to ride on his back. He laughed it off politely, but offered her his hand when traversing over a few slippery spots.

Whisk smelled fresh air moments before they emerged through a craggy opening, set between enormous boulders at the edge of a lake. Surrounding the lake’s small clearing were thousands of tall pines. Beyond them were towering mountains and foothills. The sun was sinking, casting long, dark shadows across the clearing.

The wild made her adrenaline surge and her legs want to run.

“Nothing beats a firm ground below my feet and open sky overhead,” Whisk said cheerfully. She began stretching her sore legs. “Are we camping here?”

Brennan trudged last through the water up to their dry shore refuge.

“Not a chance. The lake is low and out in the open. Neither the goblins or the cult may know of this entrance but they might still find our trail, and who knows what else is around.”

Gwendolyn folded her shivering arms, trying to still look proud in her drenched nightgown.

“But I’m tired!” she complained. “You’ve marched us like soldiers. Hate to break it to you, but we’re not.”

“We can’t stay here,” Brennan said, but even he winced at how puffy Gwendolyn’s face had become.  

Whisk twisted the bottom of her skirt, squeezing out the water. With an eye on the dragons, she casually started following the waterline’s slow curve along the lake. How far could she go until they called her back? How free was she?

They didn’t call her.

Even when she got out of hearing range, not a look was spared her way. Slowly, she turned back, unwilling to travel too far from the herd, so to speak. There may be no sign of civilization, but she was wary of what might be lurking beyond the treelines; especially when she saw Brennan scanning them too.

Upon rejoining the group, she saw that the half-dead boy had been laid on his side. Eyes closed, he winced as Kissa inspected his wounds. Seeing the bones, Whisk quickly looked away.

Ashton joined Brennan, but he kept an eye on Rook. Whisk found it both irritating and cute that the dragons cared so much for the teen. Well, Rook was their kind, but still… Rook’s lip had a cut that looked like it had tried to close several times, a few scratches on his face and fingers, and bruises all along his arms. All healable. And while Rook’s ravaged wrists and ankles were undoubtedly sore, he was in way better condition than the siren or Gwendolyn.

Looking down at his feet, she snickered. He still wore his soaked socks! Like they’d offered much protection anymore.

“I know it’s a risk, but it’d be faster if we flew,” Vaughon suggested.

Ashton nodded.  “We’ll camp at our foothill sight. For now, we need to prepare cover for their faces.”

The male dragons started unpacking a pack that’d been hidden in a circle of rocks. An apple rolled out, stopping near Gwendolyn’s feet. The girl picked it up and looked between Rook and Whisk, daring either of them to tell.

Challenge accepted!

“My dear, care to share?” Whisk approached Gwendolyn with a smile.

She considered herself people person. In fact, people gravitated toward her like a magnet, especially what she considered the purest and impurest ones. She’d learned to dodge the impure young, sensing their ill will or poisonous attitudes before they could even speak. And though Gwendolyn’s attitude wasn’t off-putting, she couldn’t resist teasing to draw out more of the girl’s character.

Gwendolyn turned from her. “I found it. It’s mine.”

She’s not human, so perhaps my tactics will need recalibration. Or, she’s just too uptight and traumatized right now.

Still, the elf felt most human. In fact, Whisk doubted Gwendolyn had even spoken to Corruption.

As for the other two...

Whisk glanced at the half-dead boy. Pain and blood were all she could smell of him, and his composure gave little to judge by.

As for Rook, his words and actions were reserved, masking any real personality. But she could sense there was something buried deep in him. Something… wicked? Perhaps it was part of his dragon nature, for it was similar to the other dragons, but whatever it was felt so much deeper. Ancient, even.

Her brow furrowed. Now, in the open air, the distinct scent she’d gotten from him in the tunnels was absent. Perhaps that was a good thing. The centaur who’d been stalled next to her had had a similar smell after she’d been taken to visit Corruption. She’d refused to talk about the encounter and had become agitated.

Corruption had done something. Whisk wasn’t sure what, but it’d tainted the centaur.

“Technically,” Whisk focused back on Gwendolyn, “the dragons found it, if we’re to play the who-found-what game.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes haughtily challenged her. “Don’t get fancy with me, ghost-girl!”

What a tedious person.

“Oho! I’d just like a bite of your stolen apple. Just one tiny bite.”

Whisk followed as Gwendolyn stalked toward the lake, circling her with theatrical skips. She was actually hungry. And even if she didn’t succeed, testing the girl’s nerves would at least amuse the dragons. This was no different than playing the crowds back at home.

Home?

No.

No longer.

Her memories of the people there were well enough, but life had always felt a tad muted. Artificial. Here, the feeling of belonging was unlike ever before. The beast inside her was racing with joy.

Yes, being in the company of predators wasn’t ideal—she’d continue to observe for now—but it made it exciting. A new challenge. A good game and a good story; and Whisk loved both.