True to his word, Mr. Stone did not keep us waiting long. It could have been more than the stated five minutes, but without watches or smart phones we had no way of knowing. It' s the little conveniences that are missed the most. That true-ism was actually from a reporter reporting in a war zone; Baghdad, I think, but I couldn't remember for sure.

“Thank you for waiting. I appreciate the chance to go along.”

Karl asked the million dollar question I wanted to, but didn't dare.

“So, why did you want to come along? You seemed pretty suspicious of us before.”

In response he pointed rather rudely at me.

“Well, you had her along. You even listen to her. You seem to have level heads, more so than those we just left. To be honest, it felt as if it were just a matter of time before I was run out of town; I just hastened things a bit. Hopefully either we can fix whatever happened, or absence will make their hearts grow fonder, and I'll be able to go home after all this.”

That was... surprisingly forthcoming of him, and I could sympathize. I made the effort, and lowered my own paranoia a notch. The way he was treated must have been far different than the deference/awe I had been treated with so far; it had to be a mage thing, as opposed to an elf thing.

Poor Dwarves, and their lack of magic. I couldn't even imagine it... which was really strange, because I hadn't had any myself a few days ago. Or had I? The cars, phones, television, and computers... wasn't science a type of magic in itself? Those devices were able to make the impossible commonplace every day.

Of course, we didn't have Elementals a few days ago, so there was that. Didn't have zombies either. But we had legends of zombies, for thousands of years in some cultures. So what did that mean exactly? I was on to something there, I smelled it. A ghost of a ghost of a thought.

“So, why do you listen to an elf anyway?”

Well that was rude; very rude.

“How partial are you to that beard, exactly?”

He backpedaled.

“I didn't mean it like that! What I meant was, my own home town was treating me as if I were half a stranger; like I didn't belong there, with them. And you heard how they reacted to the Orc. I'm fighting a fair bit of prejudice that's been rammed into my head sideways, and unless I miss my guess little lady, you are too.”

While I bristled at the little lady comment, I had to concede the point.

“I am, and I'm sorry; I'm trying very hard not to snap.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“As am I, but that begs the answer to my question; why aren't you receiving the same treatment? Even my own village was all but kissing your ass.”

It had to be reputation somehow. While beating the dinosaur with magic would be enough for my own home, Mr. Stone's town would not know anything about that until I told them, and they still treated me with respect. How would I have such a reputation? I've only been using magic for a few days.

“It has to be my reputation as a mage somehow. Let me ask you; were you always a bit taciturn, or introverted?”

He nodded, conceding my point.

“Yes, I never did like the neighbors much, but I was never impolite or anything of that sort.”

“right. I think somehow who we were carries over into who we are now; no idea how it works, but I was always sort of active in my community.”

For better or worse. It definitely was part of why mayor Conratty was anxious to get rid of me. Come to think of it, pastor Collins had too... and Karl was more a friend of mine than the mayor's. I didn't know if the others were sort of enemies of the mayor, or more of the general malcontents, but I suspected the latter.

“Perhaps that's it, but something tells me there is more to it, and it's something worth investigating. So, here I am, and I can help you all investigate what's going on as well. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“You'd have followed us if we hadn't said yes, wouldn't you?”

Mr. Stone nodded.

“Or course; wouldn't you?”

I had to admit, at least to myself, that I would. I didn't need to say it out loud however, Karl, Matt and Mr. Stone were already turning away to give more attention to their surroundings, and Randolf was looking at me in a new light, by all appearances. It made me a bit uncomfortable really, but I didn't let it show – I hoped.

I had to focus myself; we were out of the village limits proper, and the forest was starting to close in again. After the zombies in the gas station that wasn't a gas station, a certain amount of wariness was called for.

After all it was only paranoia if no one was out to get you.

The late afternoon however, mocked such attention; it was calm, with a slight northerly breeze. The sun was bright and warm; even the highly overgrown forest was bright in comparison to when we set out this morning. The air carried the same hint of flowers and wild spices it had before, and I couldn't help but want to breathe it in.

And of course in the middle of taking nice deep breaths, I caught all the men staring at me. Damned if I do, indeed. Mr. Stone snorted.

“Must be an elf thing.”

“I was smelling the air; don't you smell the hint of wild onion? The strong smell of Horsemint off the right?”

“Of course I smell it, faerie, I just don't need to breathe it in like that. What's so great about the stench of a few plants?”

“Never mind Mr. Stone, if you don't understand, I don't think I can explain it to you.”

Thomas piped up from a nearby tree.

“It's OK, she can breathe like that all she wants, we won't complain at all.”

“Shouldn't your eyes be the other way? You know, facing away from us, looking for threats?”

He grinned, the smug bastard.

“I couldn't possibly pass up such a view. Any ambush that gets us is worth it.”

“You won't say that if a dinosaur sneaks up on us.”

They all stopped and just stared at me.

“Alright, so they can't really sneak. My point stands. Screw you guys anyway.”

Karl decided to rope in the morons.

“Alright guys, the point is still a good one. Eyes facing where they should be. Focus up, remember the zombies.”

They all sobered up, even Mr. Stone, who hadn't seen them personally.

A lesson of a more abject sort was not long in coming. Karl fell into, of all things, a pit trap. It was cleverly concealed in the middle of the trail; None of us spotted it. If Karl's feet hadn't been heavily armored, the spikes at the bottom would have impaled him; as it was, he was able to keep standing, barely. The climb out was a long one however, even with Randolf helping things along.

So who set it?

A quick investigation revealed dark freshly turned earth, still bearing it's musty smell. The worms were still wriggling along through it, and the stakes were green and oozing sap. For all of that, it had been camouflaged by a master; small sticks in a grid pattern bearing a slight dusting of what had appeared to be hard packed dirt. For all I knew it could have been from the road itself mere hours ago; it certainly smelled like it.

A quick thought and gesture, and the dirt the hole was missing came out of the woods and filled it again; wouldn't do to leave traps like that in the road for the next passersby to die to.

All done in hours. Maybe less. What could...?

“Thomas.”

“Yes?”

“Phil.”

“Yes?”

“You both need to start scouting ahead, very carefully. Stay in sight of us and each other at all times, and be on the lookout for anything unusual; anything at all that doesn't fit. There will be more traps like this. Karl, get a walking stick, a long one.”

Matt, a bit more savvy than the rest when it came to these things, bent over to whisper.

“What are you thinking?”

My whispered reply was cryptic; I didn't want to give voice outright to the horror I feared it was.

“Something I hope I'm wrong about. Oh boy, do I ever hope I'm wrong.”

There was a new trap about every ten feet on the road. Pits, swinging logs coming from the tree line, once an honest to the gods rolling boulder trap. All cleverly concealed by a master of the art, or so Phil kept insisting. I just knew that my guess was getting more likely.

According to Phil and Thomas, the traps out in the woods lining the road were even better. Or as Phil was putting it:

“I'm telling you, you almost fell in it. One more inch to the right and you'd have been upside down, hanging like a trout.”

Thomas of course, was bristling worse than a cornered porcupine.

“No way in all the hells was it that close. I had a good amount of clearance to disarm both traps, and I managed just fine.”

“I know what I saw Thomas, you were almost trapped while disarming another. It's OK, we can't all be as good as me.”

That did not bode well at all.

“So the trap builders are getting more creative then?”

“Yes indeed. I'd suspect they were watching us, but I haven't caught them at it. So if they are, they are VERY good.”

Of course they are. Sigh, it almost has to be them, doesn't it? I can't think of any other critter or race so good at trap making and so absolutely cowardly as to employ long term trap ambush tactics like this. Especially after the first several traps didn't work; any other race would switch to some other tactic. But not these, no they would just hide, and good luck finding them.

And all this was taking place along what was once a well traveled road, leading to two different villages, with only 10 miles or so between them, and not more than a mile away from Shrewsberry. Someone was bound to get hurt or killed if we did nothing.

But how to draw them out? Usually getting 'caught' was a good way to draw them out, but the traps weren't big enough for all of us, and the evil little things wouldn't come out before a healthy group like ours. Unless we made them. But if their boltholes were too good for even our ranger and rogue to spot, how would we do that?

I wouldn't burn the forest for this, that was just stupid.

Think! How to do this? Of course, I'm an idiot... the very same thing we were discussing earlier. Reputation. They always did have a nice healthy awe of magic, and magic users. I could use that to bluff them. It would require a light show, but I could do that.

“Group huddle guys. I've got a plan.”

They huddled; I silently directed Phil, Thomas, and Randolf to face outward so we couldn't be shot with arrows while our backs were turned. It wasn't likely, but it could happen.

“OK so the plan is, I make a flashy light show while you all cover me, then I bluff. You guys follow my lead.”

Karl looked curious.

“Why do you think that will work? We haven't seen any sign of these trap builders; they could be long gone by now.”

“No, they are here; watching us. I'm sure of it. They have just had hours to prepare their camouflage. It's like their traps now, so well hidden we'd have to trip over it.”

Matt asked again.

“You know what's doing this? How dangerous are they? Orcs?”

“I suspect, and if I'm right, they are very dangerous. And no, worse than Orcs.”

Mr. Stone spoke up, having invited himself to our huddle.

“What could be worse than Orcs?”

Pastor Collins shook his head, finger to his lips.

“Don't say such things. It could be always be something worse than Orcs. Or worse than worse than Orcs.”

I stared at him, and he blushed.

“You know what I mean, Muse.”

I nodded.

“I do, but trust me, if I tell you, you won't believe me. Just work with me on this. We need to solve this, or Shrewsberry citizenry is in danger. Anyone who comes down this path that isn't as good as we are is going to die. And they might even be able to get one of us, if we continue to let them try hard enough.”

Karl's hand was a comforting presence on my shoulder.

“We trust you. Do what you need to do, we will follow your lead.”

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding and nodded. How to make the best light show? Hmm, a simple summoning? I already knew I could summon Elementals. No, in the numbers I needed I'd quickly drain myself, even with minor ones. So if I couldn't do that, I should fake it.

My own variant of the light spell, a little juiced up, would do perfectly. Especially when combined with another small spell I knew. This was the first time I went ahead and actually focused on my magic, without the element of surprise or adrenalin dump from seeing a charging dinosaur that could level a house.

It was harder than I thought to make the magic come unbidden. It was a focus, a feeling, a code of emotional response. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than to summon light, I needed to feel light, to be bright emotionally. I was also very sure that it was different for other spell casters.

Stray thoughts defeated the process though, so I had to start again. I ignored Matt raising his eyebrow at me and cleared my mind with far more ease than I should have... almost as if I were more experienced at this sort of thing than I really was. Another piece of the puzzle.

In seconds 6 multi-colored balls of light were swirling around me, trailing a slowly fading colored dust and making strange sounds, almost ghostly ooooo noises but not quite. I actually fed pretty proud of my creations until I caught the muted snickers from the peanut gallery.

Philistines, I swear if they screwed this up... well it'd be the toad treatment, and flies for all.

Now, to make this good. Loudly, and as clear as I could.

“If you don't come out, I'll send my minions hunting for you. You won't like what happens when they catch you, so come out now. You have five minutes.”

I sent the harmless balls of light flitting around the group, slowly at first, then faster in a show of agitation.

Then I swear, my ear twitched. Stupid twitchy ears, they had caught something. A gust of wind brought more, and I realized what I was hearing was a snatch of conversation:
“...but what is minute?”

“Not know, may be magic thing? You want find out? Could be bad.”

“But she say we have them. Isn't have things good?”

Oh gods damn it. I hate being right. I really do.

A quick twitch sent two of my globes of light heading the direction of the sound. The reaction was immediate.

“It sees us!”

“The jig is up! We should flee!”

“Shut up Norie, you is stupid! Give up is only way!”

Thomas twitched a bit. The voices had raised, and he had heard that part. The next action of the little scum in question though made that point moot. The horrid reedy voice I'd heard raised itself in an ear wincing, strident refrain from back along the road we had just passed, not more than 100 feet from us:

“We give ups! Don't hurt us!”

They were as tall or perhaps a little less than the dwarf, but had to weigh far less. Animal like legs despite an upright posture, hands that might be lacking in fingers, but managed to have an opposable thumb. Snaggle toothed maws under beady black eyes, ragged clothes covering mottled fur and scabrous lesions. Small harmless claws, but one held a rusted dagger, and the rest small cudgels.

And oddly enough, they had hair, sticking out straw like from baggy potato sack hats. It just had to be freaking Kobolds.

Cowardly, back-biting, trap setting half intelligent vermin only one jump up from giant rats, and probably distant cousins to same. They certainly had the look of bipedal rats, without the fat. Thomas's hands tightened on his bow, making it creak. Karl looked amused if anything, Randolf looked intrigued. Matt and Mr. Stone looked as suitably horrified as I felt, however.

Matt's reaction was expected, but Mr. Stone's wasn't, perhaps he had previous experience with the things? If so, how? Was he a gamer in another life, like Matt and I? Questions for another time.

As I watched, the one in the least ragged clothes stepped forward from his small pack of four, mouth open to speak. I cut him off. (I hoped it was a him, it was wearing pants... but then they all were.)

“Is this all of you? Speak truth or all of you will be cursed.”

I didn't know any curses, but I knew Kobolds were among the most superstitious races in all fantasy settings. That was what made this plan work; the little vermin would not willingly bring down the wrath of a magic user upon themselves, even a weak one. And I was anything but weak. Exactly how strong I was I didn't know, but Kobolds were no threat face to face.

They preferred to set traps then loot corpses for valuables and food. Sometimes the food was the corpse itself. They rarely attacked full well equipped parties though, preferring to let them go by in favor of easier conquests. We were never really in danger, but ordinary Shrewsberry citizens would be killed without thought or remorse.

But for all of that, I couldn't forget the most important fact; these cowardly flea bitten things may have started out as human as I was. They had in effect, fell for my ruse and surrendered. Anything final we did to them could be murder.

Of course, if they were just jumped up rats, then murder was stretching it, even though they were sentient now. Sentience on their part was debatable anyway.

In response to my both shouted and pointed question, the one I took for the leader raised a small beaten metal whistle to his mouth (I hesitate to use the word lips, they didn't seem to have much there) and blew it.

I knew it was a whistle due to just being able to make out the broken hearing destroying sound. Any dogs in the area would surely be going crazy right now, but I could tell it was outside human hearing range. It was nearly outside of my own, and oh how I wished it had been.

“Others come now, you no curse, yes?”

I tried to look as stern as possible. It seemed to work. Or perhaps it was Randolf behind me, idly fingering his many weapons. Karl was just as bad, and Matt was downright glaring. Only pastor Collins showed any signs of leniency at all.

“As long as they all show up and quickly, no I won't curse the lot of you. How many of there are you?”

He counted. Using his fingers, then his toes. I tried very hard not to scowl through the long process.

“Twelve.”

Well that was surprising; he actually could count past ten, and knew what the number meant. No wonder he was the leader. He also didn't hesitate, trying to make himself as small as possible, cowering before us. They all were. I sent my balls of light further out, trying to make them look menacing for the new arrivals.

Two I had spell out the words “Give up or be cursed” in common, the language we were using. I knew the dust I had them spitting would be good for something.

“Then we wait.”

I couldn't contain my curiosity any more.

“So, Norie.”

“Yes, mighty one?”

“Were you always like this? You and your pack?”

The confusion was immediate. The face he made was charming, in a child's nightmare kind of way.

“Like what mighty one?”

“Always short, furry, and... smart? Good at traps?”

“Oh, yes yes Norie always smart and furry. Norie's pack always good at traps. Is good for food.”

If the Kobolds were ever human then, they did not remember being so, or lacked the capacity for it now. But chances were that they were not. The rest of us remembered easily enough after all. But wasn't memory a function of intelligence? I was pretty sure I read that somewhere. The bottom line was, I couldn't be 100% sure.

We really didn't have to wait long. No more than 10 minutes, all told. Twice groups did not come out, but the leader, (the infamous Norie) blew the whistle again and yelled, pulling them from hiding before we even knew they were there. Waste of a species, only partly sentient, but they had sharp senses.

Each new group added to the pointless arguing amongst them, words flying too fast for me to properly decipher through their atrocious accent. His pack seemed to hold Norie responsible, and most wanted to stay hidden. Norie in turn pointed to me, and said I would have killed them all if he had not called them out. They countered that his group was the only one in direct danger, (a surprisingly clear observation from them) and he should have kept silent and died a hero.

Once the last group was walking towards us I no longer had to put up with such crap. A good stomp of my magic infused foot to the hard packed earth of the road and a nice thunderous crack sounded.

“Shut up, all of you.”

I split the light balls in half (making 12) and sent them at the little vermin. When they floated harmlessly into the now shrieking beasts, I let them dissipate, giving the appearance of the light being absorbed into them.

“You said you no curse!”

“And I didn't. That magic is to track you. You will disable your traps, all of them. Then you will leave this place, and never return. If you do not remove your traps, I will know. If you do not leave, I will know. AND I WILL KILL YOU ALL. Understood? This is the only mercy you get from me.”

“We understand, and obey.”

Some chattered directions and they split up, two groups heading off into the woods, and one back along the road we hadn't traveled yet. In order to hedge my bets, I borrowed a few crows from the trees nearby. Another simple spell had their eyes following my target groups. I hoped they wouldn't notice the tails, they had proven very observant. One last crow took a small note from me, and went to find a certain mayor.

Once the vermin were out of earshot, the expected blow up happened.

“So why are we letting these... things go, exactly.”

Wow, that was Karl's reaction. Normally he was among the least bloodthirsty of us.

“Because they might have been as human as us, not all that long ago. I really don't want to murder someone if we can fix this, or fix them.”

“But they said they weren't.”

“They may not know, anymore.”

Randy put his two cents in, backed closely by Mr. Stone of all people.

“They are dangerous, without a doubt. They kill to rob people. They target the weak directly.”

My anger rose. I tried to keep the heat from my reply.

“They can't help that, exactly! What happens if we kill them and manage to figure out what's going on? Do you really want to kill someone who hasn't done anything wrong yet?”

Matt chimed in.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see any bodies? We'd have found any if they had any victims; after all they don't seem the burying type to me. Heck, they only rely on the traps because they can't actually fight anything straight up.”

Randy's reply had more than a little heat of his own.

“They are still dangerous, no matter what they might have been before! We have to deal with the realities of now! Letting those things kill people just because they might have been human before is stupid!'”

He was right into my face, spitting. I wouldn't back down.

“Then you go right ahead! They are right down the road, murder them all with a smile! I made a choice, and I will accept the consequences! They won't find villagers traveling alone, Shrewsberry is currently being warned, I made a choice to turn away from having my own prejudices, that were shoved into my head sideways, rule me. You do as you like.”

He looked as if he got it, but he was, if anything, more angry.

“No, you made our choice. Ours. You decided for all of us... remember that. I won't stand for that again. Anyone they kill is strictly on your head alone.”

Ugh. Pissing contest with me unarmed, so to speak. He had a point, but the world wasn't always going to wait for us to vote. I suppose we could have though, this time. Well I wasn't going to apologize to his butt-hurt self.

“Understood.”

We started off again in silence, Randolf leading the way with Thomas and Phil scouting, and Matt bringing up the rear. Karl, pastor Collins, and I were in the center.

I noticed a distinct lack of eye contact, and more than a little cold shoulder from the party at large. Or maybe it was my imagination. I certainly hoped it was. The only thing I felt from Matt were his eyes occasionally glued to my ass. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

At least he was looking for threats behind us some of the time, and if he was so mesmerized, he wouldn't turn completely against me. At least, he shouldn't. After less than a day, I was already making new friends; only not.

Hopefully I wasn't losing any old ones.

The rest of the day was spent in an otherwise blissful stroll through nature, complete with birds chirping, the sun shining, and trees and brush rustling in the breeze. And the smells were pure and sweet. Fresh pine needles, various grasses, the occasional deer, and just about any wild flower you could hope to smell.

It was soothing, but I felt half sorry for those around me. They didn't seem to see/hear/smell the same way I did, or as much. They were missing out. Maybe Thomas could; I'd have to ask when we stopped.
Occasionally, when Phil or Thomas checked in, they would look back at me (we were maintaining a loose formation on Karl's unspoken insistence), say something to Karl or each other I couldn't quite catch, and chuckle. Every great once in awhile I heard a chuckle by them from the forest too.

Close to sunset, or at least sunset for the forest (when the sun dipped below the tree line, still some time from full sunset, but more than enough to make a forest dark) Karl halted and signaled us all to close up.

“It's time to find a place to set up camp; our two scouts are going to range on either side of the road, the rest of us are going to look a bit closer in; stay within sight of each other, and be careful. The events of the day have proven this is dangerous.”

I had to; I just had to.

“Alright, but I have something I need to ask. Phil, Thomas, what's so funny?”

They looked at each other in a perfect deadpan moment, then both burst into laughter.

“It's you.”

“It's definitely you.”

“Using balls of light farting pixie dust to try and look scary.”

“Only you would even think such a thing intimidating.”

“You're lucky the rats were so gullible.”

“You'll be in trouble if you do that against anything smart. First the bug thing, then this.”

“You're such a girl there, Sailor Moon.”

Oh. Oh! Oh, damn it. Damn it all.

“Shut. Up. Go find a camp, before you need to find flies.”

“Sure sure there, mighty one. Phil, ribbiting away.”

“Thom, ribbiting away!”

They actually jumped their way into the forest. While croaking. Un-fucking-believable. Mr. Stone and Randolf were already laughing so loudly the birds were flying off in alarm (I did not blame them). Karl was at least silent about it, and Matt was red in the face. Pastor Collins just looked pole axed. His question of “what is Sailor Moon?” did not surprise me.

Rather than answer I turned to Matt.

“What's your problem? My spell choices not funny enough for you?”

“Not at all, just imagining you with a henshin sequence.”

Urk. By all that was, that was sick. I slapped him upside the back of his head.

“Mind out of the gutter there, and focus.”

Karl, who had managed to compose himself, interrupted.

“That's my line, Lady Muse. Look for a camping spot over there if you would. Matt and I need to have a little talk with pastor Collins.”

“....Fine.”

I left. I didn't look as hard as perhaps I should have. They waited until I was out of easy earshot however.

Meanwhile they chatted and laughed. In two cases, they laughed rather loudly. Pastor Collins also went red in the face a few times too. Then Randolf caught me looking and wiggled his bushy uni-brow at me.

Philistines.

Well, there was no clearing this way, so time to go save Pastor Collins from the corrupting influences currently surrounding him.

“Alright he's a man of god, or a man of a god, quit trying to warp his head.”

Matt pulled his innocent look at me, but Karl went for the more direct challenge.

“He's holy, not dead. Right Collins?”

“Quite right; nothing in the new faith about celibacy., at least as far as I know. Matt was just explaining all about this anime I missed, and what a henshin sequence was. It's been quite educational.”

I swear I could see a small stream of blood from his nose, but with his beet red face I couldn't be entirely sure. I was too late. It'd only been about five minutes! Randolf was openly leering. I wanted to hit him, but I felt I'd hurt my hand to do so. Karl glared at him a bit and he stopped. Then he changed the subject.

“So, anything?”

“No clearings at all nearby that direction, let alone ones with handy sources of water or easily defensible locations. So, no. Not really.”

“Well I didn't think there would be. So now we wait for the scouts. Who are supposed to be smart enough to avoid trouble, and should therefore be back any minute.”

“Bad idea to say anything like that.”

“I know, but I strongly suspect they are off drinking somewhere, so I'm a bit angry. If they can hear me, they better come out.”

Delivered in a normal tone of voice, with little emotion. Karl was formidable. A slight rustle of brush and Thomas was next to us; Phil showed up a moment later, materializing next to me. Me, of all people... the jerk.

Him I could punch, so I did.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Scaring me. Don't do that.”

“Point taken. Karl we found a good spot.”

He pointed off to my left.

“Good, it's beginning to get a little too dark for my liking. I don't want to run into anything in the dark. Lead on.”

He did, leading us a good fifty yards or so into the wild undergrowth. The moment we left the road a form of uneasy twilight struck us. I remained sure footed, but there was much stumbling around me. A few curses here and there, too.

The clearing in question wasn't big enough to let the sun through the gloom, but it was big enough for a sizable fire pit and several tents or shelters. The pine trees closing ranks around it would keep out the worst of the wind and any rain, and the brook that was busy babbling on the other side was a convenient source of water. In fact, there already was a sizable fire pit of water eroded stones in the center of the grass free clearing, and the old fallen tree that was our way in (a break from the ring of trees) bore evidence of old ax or hatchet marks. Possibly both.

All I really cared about was that it was big enough for tents, if we wanted to. And I wanted to. Sleeping on the cold, dirty ground in no way appealed to me.

Of course I knew what sort of ridicule I'd get before hand. Farting pixie dust indeed. Nevertheless, I reached in and pulled it out while striding to the back (and incidentally the highest) patch of the clearing. Normally, it would be just me, and my sleeping bag (or in this case, bedroll). But this close to a bunch of huge men I felt the urge to have another layer between me and prying eyes. Besides, I had to use locking spells on something with a kind f door; a tent qualified, barely, while a bedroll did not.

Hey, I didn't make the rules... or even know about them before I thought of it just now.

The tent was a welcome nod away from the light and dare I say feminine cloth I had hitherto found, being a tough burlap in serrated earth tones. The pattern made a good camouflage in a temperate forest or plains setting with a little work, and the bottom had a built in heavily waxed groundcloth. The stitching on the seams were as fine as those on my clothes; the entire thing with a bag full of bright copper tent stakes, mallet, and screw together tent poles included probably weighed less than my spell book.

The real question was, where had it come from? I didn't remember packing it last night. For that matter, I had thought about it twice today, hadn't I? As if I had known it was there all along; had it been in the bag of plenty all along, and I knew somehow? If so then why hadn't the other items been in it? Was I getting way too paranoid about every little thing?

I ignored the peanut gallery, busy drinking the fresh water or just plunking down and relaxing, and started rolling the tent out.

“Hey, is that an actual tent?”

Matt strode up, cup in hand, water drizzling down his chin, and got in the way.

“Grrrrrrrrr.”

He jumped back, allowing me to roll it

“What the... did you just growl at me?”

I finished rolling the tent out, the end touching right where his feet were before, and nodded.

“Sure did.”

A few quick blows with the mallet (the head of which was covered in padded cloth to prevent the noise from traveling, apparently I wasn't the only one who was paranoid) and the stakes were driven in; the ground was nice and soft. Good farming loam, unless I missed my guess.

“Might I ask why?”

I knocked another stake in.

“Well you were standing right where the back of the tent goes. Door flap towards the fire, slight downgrade from the tree line, otherwise the area is flat and level. Perfect place for a tent. In fact, best place for a tent in the entire clearing.”

I drove the last stake in. Now this tent was a form of pup tent, so all these pieces had to make two tent poles. I started linking them up.

They were carved of course. They suffered from the same motif as the bag itself, wooden vines coated in resin, the odd flower cropping up. Each pole also had a stylized thorn hook at about two feet up( the poles were three feet all told, or I was a Dwarf).

And now that I could stretch it out, the design scheme on the tent had it's own rose and vine motif running the length of it, through the muddy multi-hued 'earth' the tent portrayed. When spread out, it had more than enough room for any three people and looked like a small flower strewn hillock, or at least it would from a distance.

Not at all out of place in a forest, but a little more... elf like than I had previously hoped. At least the copper stakes didn't burn my hands.

I went inside to place the final stake, and it promptly got worse. The inside was a second layer, this one of beige linen, with a small window in the back (also covered in linen, white). The linen had a meadow in full bloom painted on it, lightening to a pastel blue sky, and the window was the sun. Of course. I threw my bag inside and closed the flaps. No one must know.

“So um, that thing looks pretty big.”

“Indeed it does.”

I replied as I looked around idly. None of the others seemed to have tents. Karl didn't seem to care, dragging a small stump in front of the fire pit. Phil and Thomas were gathering firewood, and pastor Collins was working on lighting said fire in the fire pit. It wasn't really late in the year, or shouldn't be, and the temperature was still warm.

But a fire made us all feel safer; and a fire here would be almost impossible to spot from the road, or deeper into the woods.

Randolf clanked off with Mr. Stone, gathering firewood by excuse, telling bawdy stories by the sound and sharing liquor by the smell.

“So, um... can I share your tent?”

“Grrrrrrrrrrr.”

I won't lie to myself. Watching him jump back like that was pretty satisfying. I did manage to keep a straight face... mostly.

“Right. I'll take that as a no.”

I looked up; there were clouds, painted fiery yet muted colors, scudding their merry way across the sky. They seemed none the worse for wear for the rain burden they carried. A quick sniff of the air revealed a hint of fresh moisture.

Feh, they would live.

“No room in the tent; it's strictly a single.”

He stared, completely flabbergasted. But none must know. Besides, it was too hot to sleep clothed, and I'd be damned if I'd let any of them in to possibly sneak a peek. So I stared back, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I kept my cool even when Karl snorted laughter behind me, but almost lost it with Matt's retort.

“Chicks.”

OK, I admit to being a jerk here, but Matt is the one that joined in to mock my light creations earlier. Along with the bug thing. And he had been staring earlier, when he though I wouldn't know. I am sure of it.

But that one stung.

“don't you have something useful to do?”

Karl interrupted before things could go further downhill. He handed Matt a small wooden shovel.

“Yes he does. Matt, go dig a latrine, now.”

Matt moved off.

“Other direction Matt, not next to the stream.”

He shook his head as I face-palmed.

“Sorry Lady Muse, he was out of line there.”

“No need for any apologies, I'd be happy to share normally, but there are... complications.”

It really wouldn't do to have the people I may need to save my life feel that I don't trust them. I did. But all the same, as close a friend as Matt was, I wasn't sure he'd ever see the inside of that tent. At least not while I was in it.

And that went double for the rest of them. I'd just never live it down.

“And you Lady Muse, you get the first cooking duty.”

...excuse me?

“Excuse me?”

“Yep. Cooking duty. Phil and Thom are out hunting. Whatever they catch, they skin and bring back. Pastor Collins has fire duty. Randolf and Ethan are handling the fire wood. I have first watch, and Matt is digging the latrine. That leaves cooking duty. Tomorrow night we all switch jobs, except possibly Thom; he's our best hunter.”

So, it wasn't the whole 'woman’s work' bs. I guess I could live with that. If they started treating me as some stupid simpering yokel in homespun though, It'd be the toad treatment.

“Alright, I get it. I'll get everything set up.”

I had a sort of medieval mess kit, I remembered that one and had made sure to pack it before. It was small though; I hoped it was up to the task. Turns out I needn't have bothered. As soon as Mr. Stone spotted my little kit he ambled over, muttering.

Mr. Stone had almost a full kitchen in collapsible pots.

“I think you'll need it, lady. I heard Thom talking about the deer trail he'd found not too far from here.”

A deer? An entire deer? Heck with that, if they brought back a full deer, I'd need help. Of course one look at Karl and I knew I wouldn't be getting any; it'd be my task alone to dress and cook it. I had no idea how to cook anything like that, unless it was as venison steaks.

And of course, Google was dead. Good luck finding really cool recipes now for really strange food now. Perhaps after we solved the mystery of the ages, we could find Chef Ramsey.

Luckily enough, Thom and Phil did not bring back Bambi. Unluckily for me, they did bring back a brace of Thumper. The no longer cute cuddly things had been skinned, (mostly) bled, and dressed before being brought back to camp, so as not to attract local wildlife of the more dangerous sort. At least I had that going for me.

I decided on a stew, with some tubers and wild onions (and some garlic, salt, basil, and mushrooms from my own food stores, but no one needed to know that). It's very hard to screw up any kind of stew. Stew is almost unkillable. Nevertheless, I tried. Fortunately for all stomachs involved, I did not succeed.

At every comment of 'great stew' and 'very good' I searched for signs of mockery. It all seemed to be genuine, but I knew it wasn't as good as it could have been. After everyone was finished and busy seeing who could make the loudest belch, I retired to the stream to wash the dishes. Always part of any cooking job as far as I was concerned.

Besides, I doubted any of the others had brought soap.

Then my task being done, I nodded my good night to Karl (who was the only one paying attention) and went inside my tent. I did not want to leave matters there though, so I cast about in my mind for that which came so easily now; at least part of the time. This time it took longer than I wished.

I focused, and the door 'locked'. Another moment of focus, and I had an alarm set; anything with hostile intent coming within 50 feet of the tent would set off a loud hawk's cry. I chose a hawk specifically because it would be out of place at night, and yet hawks had been flying around earlier this very day. So someone or something with less knowledge of animal behavior might ignore it. Like a bear; bears were rather big on my mind at the moment.

I still felt better knowing that Karl was on watch. After all something might get past my spell somehow; a sentry was always preferable to just magic alone.

Preparation work done, and my two spells adding to my weariness (keeping up with tall people on the march was hard work) I shucked my clothes and hung them on one of the thorn hooks. The bag went on the other. Then I climbed into my bedroll.

The conversation was too loud.

“Did you see that?”

“Well, now I know why she insisted it was a single.”

Sigh.

“Gentlemen.”

The reply came in chorus.

“Yes, Lady Muse?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes Lady Muse.”

I swear. They had to rehearse or something.

Though I tried, sleep was a long time coming.