"Sir Clay, can I ask a moment of your time?"

Clay blinked as he heard Lady Glanwood's voice. He looked up from his work and tried to suppress a feeling of irritation. He'd been writing a letter home, and it had been difficult to find the right words, especially given the possibility that someone might poke their nose into the whole thing. Luckily, the [Noble] hadn't interrupted him an hour earlier, as he had been writing out the Garden's Peace for Lana to read. That would have been far, far worse.

He shook away the thought. "Of course, Lady Glanwood. Is there something you are concerned about?"

The [Noble] seemed a little unsure. She glanced at the hallway outside the antechamber of the guest quarters that Clay and his team had been given in the manor. "I've come to ask a favor, Sir Clay."

Clay studied her for a moment. She was still wearing the uniform of the local soldiery, complete with armor, spear, and shield. They looked freshly cleaned and maintained, with a diligence that he suspected that most of the [Guards] in Glanwood hadn't given to their equipment in a very long time. He felt a hunch about what favor she was going to ask, and he winced inwardly at the fact that he wasn't going to be able to give her what she wanted.

Still, he couldn't head it off immediately. "I will do what I can, Lady Glanwood."

She nodded and swallowed. Then her expression firmed. "I want to go with you to destroy the Lair."

Clay watched her. Then he shook his head. "Lady Glanwood, does your father know about this request?"

Nadia blinked. She looked away. "No, Sir Clay."

"Have you faced the croakers before?" She shook her head again, and he smiled. "Lady Glanwood, I know you want to see the deed done."

Her jaw clenched for a moment. "It is my family's duty. It has been our honor to fight this threat for the kingdom."

Clay tilted his head as he looked at her. "And it will be our honor to remove that burden from you." Then he sighed. "But at the same time, I cannot take someone who is new to this kind of fight to face this threat."

Nadia raised her chin slightly. "My father would understand if I did not make it back."

He snorted. "No. He would not." She opened her mouth to respond, only to hesitate, and Clay continued before she could manage it. "Even if he would, my warriors would need to fight much harder and take more risks to keep you safe. Is it worth your pride to see one of them die defending you?"

The question appeared to put her on the back foot for a moment. "No. I would not ask them to."

"They would do it, if they needed to." Clay watched her absorb the information. "In a way, it's my fault. I trained them that way. They'd see it as a personal failure if you got hurt."

Her defiance flared to life again, glowing in her eyes. "You would take them to train against the monsters, would you not? You would trust [Farmers] and [Guards] and [Weavers] to come with you at Janburg, but not a [Noble] here?"

He chuckled at the comparison. "I trained [Commoners] at Janburg, yes, but it was the work of weeks, not hours—and I'm sorry, but the Guild has not given me the time to do the same for you." Then he paused, feeling an unexpected shortness of breath. "As for the ones that came with me to the Lair at the end, they were only supposed to be observers. Even then, half of them walked away injured, and I took an axe to the chest. It was an interesting experience, but not one that I want to relive."

Nadia blinked. She seemed a little more off balance now. "I… had not heard."

"They do tend to leave that part out of the stories." Clay smiled a little crookedly, and then an idea formed. "At the same time, if you are serious about this course, you could always join the Guild. They would welcome new adventurers to their ranks."

She shook her head, her expression grim. "The Guild has been throwing away the lives of adventurers for generations. My father would never trust them." Then she started to turn away and stopped. "But he would trust you. After what your people have shown him, he would send me with you."

Clay hesitated. Technically, he wasn't supposed to recruit for the Guild, especially not among the nobility. The [Nobles], as the most numerous [Class] of adventurers, had always had a complicated relationship with the Guild and its politics—especially since they were, if not members of the Guild, specifically allowed to be called to war by the King. If Clay trained Nadia the way he had the [Commoners], he'd be handing the King a new weapon.

There were other problems, of course. A [Noble] that grew powerful fighting monsters but remained outside the Guild could also become a threat to the King's position as well. From what he'd seen, most of the Royal Guard topped out around level ten or eleven. Depending on the monsters she fought, a [Noble] might reach much higher heights. It was one reason laws existed against 'poaching' monsters; the last thing any Royal family wanted was for a [Noble] to grow strong enough to claim a right to the throne.

Yet at the same time, Clay couldn't find it in him to turn her away. He couldn't blame her for not wishing to join the Guild, not when he had spent so much time frustrated by their policies. Her desire to do something was important as well, something that reminded him of his early determination as he stepped out into the Tanglewood.

Those memories sealed his response. He nodded. "I cannot bring you with me, Lady Glanwood. Even if your father did approve." Her face fell until he continued. "At the same time, my team will likely remain here for a week or so to help clean up the remnants of the Lair. If you obey their commands, they might allow you to accompany them."

She blinked. Cautious hope filled her expression. "And then?"

"Then I have asked them to return home to Pellsglade, where we are training." Clay smiled. "If you might wish to accompany them to visit Baron Pellsglade, I'm sure he would not object. Perhaps you should write to him and ask permission."

Her eyes widened for a moment. Then she smiled. "I see. You have my thanks, Sir Clay."

She bowed, and Clay grinned back at her. He inclined his head. "May we both have long journeys ahead, Lady Glanwood."

Nadia nodded once more and then retreated to the hallway. He watched as the door closed and then turned back to his work. It looked like he needed to include another bit of information in his letter home. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more surprises before the Lair fell.

As Lana led them from the manor on the following day, a cold breeze greeted them. Clay grunted and glanced up at the sky. There were still some slivers of blue there, but he could already see that the weather was going to turn foul soon. Time would tell if the rain would catch them that day, or later on, however.

He heard a few muttered grumbles among the others, but most of them had seen poor weather and lived to tell the tale before. A little rain wasn't going to hurt a [Commoner] from Pellsglade, and a flicker of pride in his fellow warriors filled Clay as they set off into the marshes.

They didn't chart a roundabout course, this time. Instead, Lana led them straight towards the center of the corruption, charting out a well-marked course through the pools and mud. Clay picked out signs of old battles all along the trail, places where flames had scorched the water-logged terrain or impacts had felled trees. He half-expected the enemy to have set ambushes all along the path, but to his surprise, the frogs seemed more than willing to leave them alone.

"We might have taught them a bit of respect, Sir Clay." Lana's smile was bright as she ducked under a half-shattered tree trunk. "They used to go after us, but once we'd killed enough of them in the first week, they started getting a little more shy."

Clay grinned. He remembered a similar situation in the Tanglewood, though it had taken quite a bit more time to accomplish. "Either that, or you've killed all the dumb ones. Now it's just the clever batches left."

Harry snorted. "We'll have to watch out for those, then. Paul was already having trouble out-thinking the ones from before."

Paul glowered at him. "Oh really? Who was the one who thought the red ones might taste good?"

"I was joking!"

Lana snorted and shared a quick look of exasperation with Elizabeth. "Either way, we should have a clear path to the campsite that I think we can use. It's a little ways outside the Frogdom, so at the very least the smell shouldn't bother us."

Olivia smiled. "The Frogdom? I thought it was Frogtown."

"Too simple." Lana grinned. "I'll need to spice things up a little bit for this epic. I wouldn't want the listeners to realize that most of it was tromping around the swamp, squishing frogs. It'd be boring compared to what we did around Janburg."

Clay rolled his eyes. "I'd have taken a little more boredom there, actually. As unpleasant as it can be, boredom doesn't hurt quite so much."

"Unless you hear Elizabeth try to tell you about her books!"

"Shut it, Paul."

Olivia was still shaking her head as the siblings started to bicker. She glanced ahead of them. "You were saying the number of elder croakers was dropping?"

"Yeah." Lana nodded. "We've seen them start to pull back deeper into the Frogdom over the past couple of days, but yesterday their numbers really started to drop. I'd bet there's only a few outside the Lair, now. I don't know if you're going to be able to reinforce the [Achievement] again, at least not until we hit the main group."

Clay nodded. "Well, at least you've kept their numbers down low enough that a hunting party shouldn't be a concern. At least, not unless the Guardians want to lower the defenses for the Lair itself."

It wasn't likely, but he'd probably rest easier knowing that the others were keeping a steady watch while he slept. After all, their bonuses meant that a mere hunting party was going to have a hard time fighting all of them, and every single one of them was a threat to the Lair's survival, so the Guardians would have a hard time isolating one of them to kill.

At least, as long as they didn't know that he had the only copy of the Garden's Peace tucked away in a waterproof pouch. Otherwise, they might try to just kill him and Olivia and go dormant for a while.

He shook his head and focused. "So. We make camp and spread out. For the rest of the day, we try to wipe out as many frogs as we can, while Olivia and I see what we can do about that [Achievement]."

Lana grinned. "Sounds good to me." There was a hint of nervousness in her smile, and she started to whistle a little tune as they walked. Clay made a note to talk with her that night. After all, the last thing they needed was for her to get uncertain right before she started the [Chant] that would kill the Lair. Life was interesting enough without discovering what happened if the Poisoned Wish was recited instead.

They marched for the better part of three hours, forging their way deeper into the marshes. For most of that time, the croakers were content to avoid them and watch. Clay only knew some of them were following the group because his ethereal senses gave them away; otherwise, he might have missed the lumpen bodies slipping through the muck of the swamps.

As they drew closer, however, the frogs grew more aggressive. The first ambushes started, though they were mostly brief encounters. Even a swarm of nearly thirty croaker spawn couldn't make much of a dent against half a dozen [Commoners] above level ten. Their only real effect had been to demonstrate how well Lana's team appeared to be working together.

They covered each other well, both with [Chants] and weapons. Harry usually stood at the front of the group, carrying a pair of axes that he could use to hack his way through the enemy. Paul and Elizabeth stood on the flanks. The Wheatrose siblings both carried quarterstaffs, which they wielded like long, brutal clubs to smash any croakers that came close. Any threats that stayed at a distance were answered either by [Chants], or by the plain slings that each of them carried.

It was rarely necessary, however, thanks to Lana. Her longbow had been improved by David's attention, along with a little help from some of the rest of the Pellsglade [Commoners]. The thing had a draw strong enough that Clay might have had some difficulty handling it, but Lana could aim and fire without a single hesitation or misstep. Frogs died in droves whenever they entered her sight, and the only concern appeared to be that she might run short of arrows. At that point, she'd need to rely on her sword—but the multiple quivers she wore and the care with which she chose each shot meant she wasn't close to needing to draw it yet.

Their efforts meant they reached the campsite while the sun was still climbing towards noon, half-hidden behind the clouds. They divided the tasks for securing the camp among themselves; some of them hoisted their supplies into the air, dangling from ropes thrown over tree branches. It seemed like a useless effort given that the croakers could jump that high without trouble, but it was better than nothing.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He actually had a lot more faith that any croakers in the nearby area were going to have a hard time getting to the camp with all six [Commoners] spreading out to hunt them down. A monster couldn't eat their food if they just killed all of them first.

Clay was still chuckling to himself as Olivia looked over at him. She was smiling as well, though she hid it behind her scarf a moment later. "So. There might not be enough monsters for the both of us…"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you going to kindly concede the first ten to me so that I can reinforce the achievement, then?"

She snorted. "I was thinking more of a wager." He gestured for her to continue, and she grinned. "Whoever kills the least gets to cook tonight."

"For all of us?" Lana seemed absurdly hopeful, even shouting across the rest of the camp.

He gave Olivia a quick smirk. Then he nodded. "Sure. I just hope—"

Olivia didn't even give him enough time to finish the taunt before she was running into the swamp aiming to skirt the western side of the so-called 'Frogdom'. Clay had enough time to stare after her in shock before he jerked into motion, heading east. He knew too well that she was not going to waste any time, and she might even have a movement advantage in their current terrain. If he wanted to win, he was going to need to be fast, clever, and effective.

Of course, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He found the first batch of elder croakers after about half an hour of hunting.

It had not been a quiet period of time by any means. A batch of nearly fifty croaker spawn had tried to take advantage of the fact that he was alone. They lasted just long enough to slow him down mildly as he cut, smashed, and blasted his way through the lot of them. His bonuses from [Frogsbane], combined with his other [Experiences] and [Achievements], made their attempt a laughable farce.

Even if he had been stealthy and unnoticed, the rest of the world would not have been silent by anyone's measure. The rest of the team was already spreading out through the swamp; the air was filled with the distant echoes of dying monsters and ravenous magic. He thought he'd seen a flicker of the Flame-Tongued Song in the distance to the south; he knew he had heard the earth shaking a bit further west as someone used the Drums of the Earth. His [Commoners] had brought war to the marshes, and none of them seemed to be subtle about it.

Those noises had filled him with urgency. With so much noise, it was going to draw croakers from all over the swamp. The Guardians might even decide to leave the Lair unguarded if they could gather enough support. Better to finish off whatever he could find outside before they had the chance.

He had pushed onwards, nearly running through the waterlogged marshes, searching for any sign of the real enemy he wanted to face. In his haste, he almost missed the signs of the swamp growing corrupted around him.

It started with the small things. There were swirls of darkness in the water, signs of some fetid growth that seemed to filter through the rest of the swamp. The air began to smell different, heavy with some strange combination of scents that burned at his nostrils. He saw signs of the parasitic vines that Lana had mentioned, strangling the smaller trees and choking the underbrush.

He didn't let those signs distract him, however, and, soon enough, he found the enemy.

There were nine of them, all howling in his ethereal sight. They were already moving towards him, a fact that he put down to the chaos erupting in the swamp behind him. It wouldn't be long before they found him, either; their current course was headed straight for him.

Clay took stock of his current position. There were a half dozen strangled bushes around him, their crackling branches curiously dry and grey compared to the verdant growths wrapped around their roots. A handful of trees leaned in various directions around him, their roots loosened, and their bark sloughing off them in moist sheets. The ground was soft beneath his feel, and there were at least three different shallow ponds within a handful of strides.

It wasn't the ideal place for an ambush, but it would serve well enough.

Clay hurriedly recited the [Chant] for Mischief's Ladder. He used it to ascend high enough that he could jump into the higher branches of one of the trees; fortunately, they held his weight well enough, despite the vine tangled around its roots.

He set his spear to one side and drew out his bow. The [Chant] for the Flame-Tongued Song came easily to his lips as he waited for his prey to arrive.

They were there moments later, making their way through the failing swampland with quiet, jerking motions. The red, speeding forms of the dart elders caught his attention first; they were leaping among the treetops like their lesser brethren enjoyed doing. Below, he caught sight of the ground shifting as what had to be the mud elders moved below the soil. Other than a slight reverberation on the ground, he couldn't see any other sign of them.

The only ones moving in the open were the decay elders, who were massive, lumpen things. Each of their jumps covered a terrible distance; they landed lightly for their size, but their eyes swiveled and pivoted in all directions. A scent like rotten flesh rose as they drew close, their attention captured by some massive battle that seemed to be close to the camp.

Clay let out a small breath as his prey drew close. He shifted to bring one of his arrows to the string, watching a dart elder take yet another bold leap across the sky. The Flame-Tongued Song was nearly complete, and the nearest of the decay elders would be right under him in the next heartbeat.

With a single smooth motion, he drew and fired, catching the dart elder as it shifted, preparing for its next leap. The broadhead arrowhead had been forged by a [Smith] unlike any the world had known for a very, very long time. It slammed more than halfway into the frog's side, practically burying itself up to the feathers in its smooth, rubbery flesh.

It hadn't even reacted before Clay turned and drew again. He loosed just as the first pained belch echoed out. His second arrow caught another dart elder halfway through its leap. The impact practically stopped its forward motion, and it fell well short of the tree it had been aiming for.

As the second frog tumbled, loose-limbed, towards the ground, Clay stepped back. He stowed his bow with one hand and grabbed his spear with the other. Another step back, and Clay was falling through the open air, racing the dying frog to the soil below.

While he fell, he heard the croakers on the ground start to react. The decay elders reared back and lashed out at the spot where he'd been standing. Waves of magic distorted the air in front of him as he fell. Above him, he saw the branches of the tree wither and wilt, decaying even as he fell. More bolts of brown energy slammed into the trunk beside him as their bulbous eyes shifted and tried to track his movement.

They failed. Clay hit the ground at the same time as the second dart croaker. It exploded instantly, filling the air with a cloud of red mist that boiled up from the body. He smelt rot and burning, filling the air.

{Dart Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

Then he finished the Flame-Tongued Song, and Clay breathed out a wave of destruction all his own.

Fire tore through the closest of the two decay elders, blistering their skin and setting ablaze. Both of them belched in panic and pain as they were scorched; their magics flickered and failed as their eyes and mouths burned away. Their single companion lurched behind a nearby tree, croaking as a patch of its skin caught fire. Beyond them, the cloud of red mist retreated as the flame burned it, keeping the poison from spreading.

Then he heard a sound like thunder, and he dodged to the right, behind the still-rotting tree. A reddish blur shot past him as the final dart elder's tongue lashed out, as fast as any crossbow bolt. Clay tried to grab it, but he failed, and it retracted back to its owner in a nearby treetop.

A second cloud of red bloomed atop the tree where the first dart elder had crouched. The notification reached him a heartbeat later.

{Dart Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

{Decay Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

One of the decay elders had collapsed, its flesh still burning merrily. Its companion still survived, even as it tried to roll in the mud to extinguish the fire. Clay twisted back around to stab at it, punching the tip of his spear through its head between its scorched eyes.

{Decay Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

His feeling of triumph suddenly faded as the ground opened up around him. Holes large enough to reveal the gaping maws of the mud elders appeared, and bruise-colored tongues shot out like spears. Clay dodged, trying to avoid the assault. One tongue shot past him and slapped against the dying tree; another missed catching him on the side of the head by a finger's width.

The third caught him on the knee, and Clay was abruptly being dragged right off his feet, straight towards the croaker's mouth.

He kicked out, digging a furrow with his other foot. As the friction slowed him, his hand dropped to his knife. Clay lashed out with it in a single, desperate swing. The blade slashed right through the tongue, and it snapped back into the croaker's mouth. That quickly, all three holes vanished.

Breathing hard, Clay immediately rolled to the side, knowing he wasn't done yet. There was another crack of sound, and the pink tongue of the dart croaker punched a hole in the ground right where he'd been laying. He felt the ground shift behind him, and he shoved himself up and away from another hole that opened in the path of his roll. He felt the air of the tongue's passage on his sleeve, even as he staggered back to his feet. The hole was gone before he could look back at it, and another opened up behind him.

He kept dodging, even as the four frogs kept lashing out at him. A little further away, the decay croaker had turned its bulk towards him. It had put out the fire on its flank by flopping into a pool; now, as steam rose from its flank, it was lurching back to the fight. If it got there while he was still fighting the others…

Clay began a new [Chant]. It was a far simpler, shorter thing than the combat ones he'd used until now. The decay croaker had barely managed to hop once, making a small crater in the mud, before he finished it. He saw it focus on him, saw its swiveling eyes split slightly to stare on either side of him.

It fired bolts of corruption to keep him from dodging, just as the [Chant] completed. Clay came to a stop, knowing the lack of momentum would have doomed him. Almost on cue, all three mud croakers lashed out as one, their tongues slapping wetly against his armor, catching him on his chest, arm, and shoulder.

They pulled as one, obviously hoping to yank him off his feet, perhaps to rip him apart.

Instead, they were dragged out of the ground by their own strength, as the power of Firm Step once again made itself known.

Clay was moving before they could really react. With his feet still anchored, he thrust his spear back towards the one attached to his chest. It hit the spearpoint so hard that it buried the weapon into its throat up to the crossguards. A second mud croaker was still speeding towards Clay's arm when he stabbed it through the lower jaw, snapping its mouth shut on its own tongue. The heavy blade punched up through flesh and bone on the way to its brain.

{Mud Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

{Mud Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

Then the third croaker slammed into Clay's shoulder, its jaw clamping down on him, and Clay grunted in pain as it tried to bite through his armor. For a moment, he worried the monster would succeed as the thing tightened its hold.

David's handiwork held firm, however, and Clay ripped his knife out and released his [Chant]. He twisted around and stabbed down on the thing, once, twice, three times, in quick succession.

{Mud Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

There was a heavy splash behind him, and Clay looked back to see the decay croaker rearing back. He pulled his knife and spear free and lunged, hoping to get clear.

He made it just in time. The decay croaker released a stream of death and decay that flowed across the ground like a river of corruption. Beneath the waves of brown energy, Clay saw the bodies of the mud croakers shrivel and shrink, their remnants crumbling in heartbeats.

Just as he landed, he heard the snap of the dart croaker's tongue again, and shoved off the tree to dodge. The tongue hit him anyway, glancing off his shoulder where the other croaker had bit him; there was a small rip in the fabric as it glanced off a steel plate, and poison spattered from the impact. Clay grunted as drops hit his cheek, but he started the [Chant] of Clean Heart and shoved himself upright.

He sprinted around the tree, trying to outflank the decay croaker before the dart croaker could interfere. It was still heaving its bulk around to face him, but one slitted eye pivoted towards him with ease. Clay had just enough warning to duck before a bolt of putrid brown shot overhead, crumbling a dried-out brush to dust.

It shifted again, but Clay gave it no time. He darted in close, sheathing his knife as he closed the distance. The spear in his hands punched into the frog's bulk. Clay thrust so hard that the crossguards dug into the rubbery flesh, shoving it up and onto its back. He yanked it out and stabbed down twice more, burying the point deep into its chest as it flailed.

Then he threw himself to the side at the sound of another crack. The dart croaker's tongue ripped a bleeding hole in the other frog's belly before retracting. Clay dodged back around the tree trunk, which was now creaking ominously as more of it rotted away.

He paused there, trying to catch his breath. A glance to the side told him the decay croaker was dying now. It was hard to tell whether it had been the stab wounds or its companion's poison that had finished the job. As it twitched and flailed, little red lines began to thicken and spread across its body, starting at the spot where the tongue had struck. As the lines grew, the frog's thrashing grew worse, until abruptly, it stopped.

{Decay Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

Clay finished Clean Heart a moment later, and a stinging in his cheek suddenly faded. He had a brief flare of gratitude to Olivia for finding that [Chant] and then stuck his spear point down in the dirt. A moment later, he drew out his bow and nocked an arrow. The dart croaker shifted in its treetop, clearly ready to snap at him once more.

Common sense would suggest that he find a way to distract the last croaker, to draw its attention so that he could shoot it. He considered the possibility of tossing something out to distract it, but he discarded it for one easy reason.

The monsters always believed themselves to be predators. It wouldn't stay there in its tree and wait; it was going to try to come for him.

So he waited, keeping an eye on the tree with the best angle on his hiding spot. He gave it a few heartbeats, letting his breath slow and keeping his fingers on the bowstring. One breath, then two…

There was a flash of red, darting towards the treetop. Clay pulled and loosed in the same instant.

The arrow blurred towards the target. A moment later, the frog had reached its new perch. It sat there, frozen in place.

Then, slowly, it tilted over, the arrow buried in its eye socket. Poison bloomed from its corpse a moment later.

{Dart Croaker Elder slain! Soul increases by 60}

Clay waited for a moment, just in case the monster had some other effect in its death throes. Then he pushed himself away from the tree and stowed his bow. He pulled the spear from the ground and started over to collect his arrows, if they remained intact.

It was a good start.

Hours later, as the sun was beginning to slide towards the horizon, Clay returned to the campsite.

He found the others already there, with a fire burning. It spat and hissed as small droplets occasionally fell into it from the sky above; the clouds had been letting occasional drizzles drop for the past hour, as if warning of things to come. Lana and her team gathered around it, chatting in soft voices as they ate.

Olivia was waiting for him at the edge of the firelight, sitting on a log that didn't appear to have been rotted at all yet. She looked a little worse for wear, even with the obvious use of Pure Touch to clean her armor and weapon. There was a bandage on one of her cheeks, and she looked more than a little tired.

Still, there was a touch of fondness in her eyes as she smiled at him. "How did it go?"

He sighed. "Level eighteen, but I didn't get the [Achievement] reinforced." It had been a close-run thing; he'd found three groups of elder croakers, but he'd fallen one short of each type. The Soul was welcome, but it was still frustrating to have not been able to find the last of his prey.

She nodded sympathetically. "Me too, actually. Only got nine of each before I gave it up." Olivia shook her head. "I don't know if there are any left outside the Lair itself. Even the smaller ones started to pull back near the end."

Clay nodded. He'd noticed it as well, as even the adult versions of the monsters began to vanish. They'd hovered at the edges of his senses, closer in to where the waters turned darker and the vines grew more abundantly. The Lair had clearly sensed their intent and was gathering its defenses. Their enemies would be waiting for them in numbers tomorrow.

"Still, not everything is lost." She stretched. "I made it to level fourteen. Only four more to go before I catch up to you."

He gave her a raised eyebrow in response. "We'll see, Syr Olivia."

She snorted and patted the log next to her. "Lana said they'd bring us some food once you got back. Take a load off."

Clay gladly settled in beside her; a moment later she leaned against him with a satisfied sigh, her eyes still watching the night outside the camp. He smiled despite their situation. "So they didn't want to endure our cooking?"

Olivia chuckled softly. "I guess not. Elizabeth said something about not being able to trust any of us." She shrugged. "Their loss. I can prepare food rations with the best of them."

The false bravado in her voice made him smile wider. He put an arm around her and she snuggled into him a bit further. Clay placed a kiss on the top of her head and then looked up at the sky. There were no stars; the moon and its companions were hidden by an ever-thickening veil of cloud. Somewhere up there, a rumble of thunder warned of unpleasantness to come, but for the moment, he was more than happy with what he had.

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