Dusk had already strangled the last light, and the forest drank what remained until the undergrowth lay in slow, breathing shadow. Perberos moved ahead with the tread of someone following memory and map at once, scanning hollows and ledges for a place that could hold bodies and blades.

  First: a hollowed oak, its trunk split into a black mouth rimed with rot and old spider-silk, warm-smelling but cramped, room for one, maybe two, not a defensible camp. Then a little glade ringed by upturned boulders where moss made cushions and the ground lay level; it felt open, exposed from angles the trees could not hide, good for a brief rest but a poor place to stake a line. He passed a shallow overhang where rain ran off the lip and pooled in slick shadow; dry enough with work, but the wind cut through it from two directions. Further on, a fern-choked cleft between two roots formed a snug throat, soft and weathered like an old hide, but too low for a sentry and too easy to isolate. Each option had something useful and something missing: shelter without sightlines, space without choke points, cover without concealment.

  Then Perberos halted midstep, breath fogging in the chill air, because beyond the next bend the perfect shelter waited.

  Tucked into the base of a broad ridge, the cave sat half-hidden beneath a coat of moss, its mouth a low, dark slit framed by a curtain of hanging roots. The throat narrowed quickly, two men could stand shoulder-to-shoulder and still block anyone trying to rush in and behind that pinch the stone flattened into a shallow ledge that shelved down into dry hollows, the floor oddly swept as if the earth itself kept its room tidy. Pale veins of lichen ran across the rock like old scars, and a band of wind-polished roots arced over the opening like a heavy brow, masking the entrance from casual sight.

  Around it, the trees tightened, leaving only a thin, twisting gap through which a single person could duck through. It was the kind of shelter that read as honest and practical: one approach to hold, cover for a watch, and enough concealment to keep a fire’s glow from giving them away. For that night, it was exactly what they needed.

  Perberos found himself oddly pleased and a little astonished that he’d seen it at all. Every time he glanced away he had to force his mind back to the place, as if the cave might slip out of view the moment he stopped looking.

  “Guys, I think I’ve found a good spot,” Perberos called.

  The party halted, heads turning through the dim. He pointed, and even then it took a beat for them to pick the cave out of the moss and shadow. Without another word they fell into step toward their overnight shelter.

  Josh pushed forward to the mouth and tested the lip first, shoulders tense, shield held across his chest. “One approach,” he said, voice low and steady. “You can’t run circles in here. If anything comes though, we’ll know exactly where it will appear.”

  Perberos leaned at the entrance and looked back down the narrow path, eyes tracing the ridgeline and the sweep of trees. “Good sightlines all around,” he said, counting the angles with a hunter’s eye. “We should be hard to spot once it’s dark. I can take a tree for a lookout if you want, get some height on the ridge.” He tilted his head toward the low forks and thick branches that framed the cave mouth.

  Bhel dumped his pack with a heavy thunk and paced the perimeter, measuring the distance of a stride as if testing the reach of his own arms. “Choke point’s good,” he grunted, nodding toward the narrow lane between roots. “We funnel anyone down that alley into Josh’s face. That’s an idea I can get behind.”

  They set to work quickly, adding small, sensible surprises to the narrow approach. A wedge of brambles was dragged into the most obvious track to snag boots and slow a hurried footfall. Farther down the slope they rammed sharpened stakes into the earth at awkward angles to slow any charging body and turn a straight run into a hazard. Closest to the mouth they strung a fine tripwire, barely visible in the dim, taut between two roots, to tumble anyone who tried to slip in unnoticed. Each gesture was careful and low, meant to go unseen and hinder; but together each addition together the traps turned the path into a channel of trouble for anyone who didn’t know how to read it.

  They ate much better this time than during their last outing, Brett handing out treats he’d bought earlier that day, the whole party enjoying the much better tasting food, as opposed to choking down the shoe leather jerky and hard tack. A modest fire glowed low between them, breathing heat and shadow; the tiny luxury braided the group together for a few minutes, smiles passing around the coals as muscle knots eased. Perberos stepped out once to circle the trees and returned satisfied that the ember's light wouldn't betray them.

  When the food had settled and shoulders loosened, they drew into a half-ring and took stock of their first day as a full party. The debrief was sparse and practical.

  “Formation worked,” Josh said first, voice flat as flint. “When we held steady the line didn’t break. What failed was communication. We didn’t know who was doing what half the time. From now on we need to talk more out there.”

  Moving on, Perberos rolled an arrow between his fingers before looking up. “Scouting the camp and circling with Bhel got us the angle we needed. It can’t always be a flank, but if we can push enemies toward you while we thin the edges, it gives us the advantage.”

  Bhel rubbed at his blistered hand, his voice low. “I know I’ve apologised already, but I really am sorry about that first fight. I charged in because I wanted to prove I could still fight. I won’t make that mistake again. I won’t risk your trust.” He forced a quick smile to cover the sadness in his eyes. “I think it worked well when I flanked with Perberos, and when Josh had them pinned, but it also felt right when I acted as his spear if there wasn’t room to flank. I’ll learn to work around you, big guy.” He punctuated the words with a playful punch to Josh’s arm.

  Brett tapped his staff lightly. “Alright, my turn. Firebolts are useful for disruption and they hit like a hammer, but they drain my mana too quickly. I need to be more economical or we’ll be forced into longer recovery breaks for me to meditate, especially after heavy engagements. When we’re back, I’ll speak to Caistina about alternatives: attack spells with a better efficiency ratio, or AoE options.”

  Everyone except Josh paused mid-bite, trading confused looks. Carcan finally spoke, brow furrowed. “You two always come out with the strangest words. What’s… AoE supposed to mean?”

  Brett’s cheeks flushed as he realised his slip. “Ah—sorry. Old habit. An adventurer back in our village used to call it that. Area of effect. Basically, larger spells that strike several enemies at once. They might cost more per cast, but the overall mana efficiency against groups is better.”

  The party nodded in understanding. Carcan wrapped her hands around the haft of her staff, her expression soft but steady. “There are plenty of spells like that, though some are difficult to master. Your firebolt might even evolve into something greater in time.” She smiled before continuing. “As for me, I echo what Josh said, we need to communicate more. I’m especially guilty of staying quiet. From my position at the rear, I usually have the clearest view of the battlefield. I’m not locked onto a single enemy, so I can track the bigger picture. I’ll do better at calling out threats and openings as they come.” Her lips curved wryly. “In between making sure Josh doesn’t die, of course.”

  Perberos snorted and half-laughed. “So healer and spotter now. Fine by me.” He grew serious. “Strategy-wise: thin from range, drive the rest toward Josh. Use terrain; make them come to the anchor. If they run, trap the path somehow?”

  The planning stretched into the night, but exhaustion pulled at them until they had to sleep. They settled the watches by rhythm rather than rigid hours. Josh and Carcan would start, Carcan being replaced by her brother when she started to flag, Josh being replaced by Bhel, and then finally after a few more hours one would be replaced by Brett. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it allowed for overlap, and that would mean no risk of someone falling asleep.

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  They set the camp with domestic care. Blankets were layered so packs could be used as pillows; boots were tilted out of the way and bandoliers draped so nothing snagged in the dark. Bhel slept crouched with his hands on his axe hafts, elbows pulled to knees like a man who could stand or strike without thinking. Perberos curled into a blanket, his bow within arm’s reach, arrows laid like a careful fan beside him. Brett tucked his staff under his blanket, hugging it like a lover as his his breath slowed. The three quickly fell asleep, exhausted from their days activities.

  Carcan stretched out at the cave’s mouth, eyes scanning the darkness beyond. Josh sank down a moment later, settling against the rough bark of a nearby tree. From there he could keep watch over the shadows, but he didn’t dare lie flat, sleep might claim him too easily.

  After a silence that lasted far too long, Carcan began began to hum a soft, beautiful tune that had Josh encaptured. After a while they began to chat, sharing small private stories about themselves. They spoke in low voices so the sleeping friends would not be interrupted.

  “Where did you say you’re from again?” Josh asked, watching the rim of the cave catch the last ember.

  “Briarwood,” Carcan answered, tacking a scrap of cloth out of her pouch and fiddling with it without thinking. “You?”

  “Oh you wouldn’t know it, it’s in the middle of no where,” he said trying to remember what he’d discussed with Brett. “It’s a slow little place. Even the rivers slow. Dad’s Tomas, he’s a carpenter. Taught me to square a plank and to keep my hands steady.” He smiled. “My sister Elia keeps bees, and loves making honey.” Josh smiled, thinking of home, and the family he’d likely never see again.

  Carcan’s eyes warmed. “I’d like to try one. My mum, Ilyra, is a healer like me. She hums when she works, says it helps the pain go away.”

  Josh tilted his head. “You learned to stitch from her?” noticing the spiderweb of stitches on the cloth in her hands.

  “No surprisingly,” she said. “Marek taught me how to mend leather, my older brother. He laughs at everything and is always there when I need him.” She stared into the darkness, thinking of home.

  Josh let the silence hang for a moment before asking “So, what did you eat when you were a kid?” Josh asked, biting into a strip of jerky.

  “Bread warmed on a stone with honey, that was my favourite.” she said. “Simple, but good. You?”

  “Oh that sounds good,” he said. “My favourite thing though was a dish we call spaghetti. I’ll have to try and make it one day” a grin appearing on his face, and a thought crossing his mind - is pasta even a thing here?

  The hours dragged, the pair keeping themselves awake by trading stories. Carcan told stories of her parents, the lessons they’d taught her and older brother antics, while Josh shared tales of his dad and younger sister. After a lull, Carcan turned, meeting his eyes.

  “You haven’t mentioned your mother. Can I ask what happened to her?”

  Josh was silent for a long moment. “Yeah… she died when I was little. She worked as a guard, well, something like that, and was killed protecting people. Truth is, I don’t really remember her. My dad always tells stories, how they met, what kind of person she was. Other people share memories too. But me? I can only picture her from old photos…” His words faltered, grief creeping into the edges of his voice.

  “Is that why you try to protect all of us?” Carcan asked gently. “To be like her?”

  Josh froze, the thought striking him like a blade. “I don’t think so. When I chose my class, it just… felt right. But maybe. Maybe it’s there, underneath.”

  Carcan’s smile was soft, steady. She turned her gaze back to the forest. “Well, I think your mum would be proud of the person you’ve become.”

  Josh swallowed hard, grateful she wasn’t watching. A single tear slid down his cheek, silent in the night.

  Time passed quickly, and nothing stirred in the darkness. “You don’t have to sacrifice as much for us all you know,” Carcan murmured, still fiddling with the cloth “You carry too much of the danger.”

  Josh’s answer was not immediate. “If I don’t, who does? I chose this class to protect people, and I’d always rather take a hit than someone else. It’s always been that way with Brett and I.”

  “You’re not a fortress,” she said. “You’re a person who cares too much. You need to let us help. That’s what we’re all here for.”

  He looked down at her and nodded “I’ll try my best. But it is kind of my job to protect you all”.

  She lightly punched him in the arm, hurting herself more than Josh. “Idiot” she whispered, then laughed.

  When Carcan’s watch ended, Perberos took over, quickly climbing into a nearby tree, desiring a better view than conversation.

  In the middle of the night a fox cried and then fell silent; a twig snapped somewhere beyond sight, like a coin dropped. Perberos sat perfectly still for a long moment, then tapped once and twice, the quiet arithmetic that meant he’d seen movement on the far ridge that had simply passed on by. The cave shifted as shoulders relaxed. Josh, who by this point was beginning to struggle with staying awake, let out a sigh of relief..

  Bhel’s sleep was functional: he slept in stunted bursts, sometimes with an arm over his face to keep out the itch of stars, sometimes with a hand on an axe haft so that he woke before a shout could reach him. He startled easily, breath snapping at the softest sound, then settled into a slow moan of sleep again. When Josh nudged him for his shift, he woke like a spring: a rapid breath, a blink, a heavy grin. “Aye?” he grunted. Then he moved, solid and fast.

  When Brett’s turn came in the deeper hours he rose slowly, flexed his fingers and brought a mote of heat to life between his palms, letting it float like a firefly to check the night’s breath. He and Perberous stood together through their overlap, fishing the quiet for anything the eye might miss. They spoke of small things: what food to save for the trail, what they hoped to find the next day. Brett hummed a tuning note low enough to be felt and not heard.

  When dawn edged a cold thread between trunks and birds risked their first notes, the cave exhaled and the forest softened around them. They rolled one by one into waking, checking strings and blades. No alarms had rung. No patrol had tried the mouth. They stood at the lip and breathed the thin morning air together.

  Carcan looked at them as they packed and said, voice clear and practical, “We scout the ridge and follow the heavy tracks. Hopefully we’ll find whatever is out there, and where these goblin are spawning from. Then we can get back to town by sundown.

  They pulled their gear, checked weight and balance, tightened straps and levelled blades. The watch pattern had done its job: no one woke to surprise, everyone had enough broken sleep to think straight. They left the cave mouth with the quiet efficiency of a unit that had learned how to be domestic and dangerous in the same breath, and the forest closed behind them like a curtain.

  The morning smelled of wet earth and pine; breath rose in thin ribbons and the forest seemed to exhale with them. Packs settled into familiar places, straps adjusted with the small, wordless choreography of people who travel together.

  Brett walked with a scrap of hardtack in one hand and a strip of peppered jerky in the other, offering pieces without ceremony. “First proper camp breakfast since getting here,” he said, and Perberos accepted a piece with a grunt that was almost a smile.

  Perberos shouldered his bow. “I’ll move the slope and pick likely approaches. Keep an eye on the root-lines; whatever left those heavy foot prints left a deep scar through here. We follow it.”

  Bhel cleaned his axes with the hem of his cloak and tapped the poll thoughtfully. “Happy to follow prints. Heavy things make sloppy trails, they’re easy to read if you know what to look for.”

  Brett hummed a spare rhythm and tossed the last of his hardtack into the air, catching it neatly. Carcan walked near the rear, her fingers fidgeting with the little pouch where she’d kept the ears and salvaged trinkets. She paused at an almost-imperceptible dip in the trail and glanced back toward the hollow where the cave had been. At first she expected the familiar dark wedge of the entrance, the low scatter of their gathered gear, a small, domestic picture against the wild. What she saw instead was only trees and a smear of morning mist. No cave mouth. No flattened earth. No charred coals or leaned shields.

  “Josh,” she said softly, and the others paused at the sound. He turned; his face wore sleep and calculation both. She pointed. “The cave. It’s gone.”

  Josh focused, looking for their resting place “I can still see the tree Perberos used as his nest, but I’ve no idea where the cave is from here.”

  Carcan’s fingers tightened on her pouch as if she might press harder and pry the memory back. “It was a good place,” she said, voice small in the hush. “Perfect shelter and well hidden apparently. No wonder we didn’t have any late night guests.”

  Josh rubbed the side of his neck and let a slow breath out. “We were lucky to find it. We move on and we mark the path. If someone else needs shelter, let them find the place.”

  They set off again, the conversation folding back into the practical, tracks, rations, the ridge ahead. Perberos whistled a low tune as he walked, an attempt to fill the small space, Brett hummed in answer, carving little shapes of light in the air with his fingers. Bhel fell into the easy cadence of marching and Josh kept the pace, steady and sure.

  Every time someone skips the follow button, another mutant rat levels up.

  Don’t make me write Rat King II: The Squeakquel.