Chapter 6: Escaping the Fog

  “Frelka, it’s been a month.” Shryke didn’t stop packing her books and personal effects into her pack as she spoke. “At this point, we have to assume that Beep is either not returning or dead.”

  Frelka stood, hovering ineffectually around her. “I hear you, ja, but we can’t leave just yet. Let’s just give him one more day.”

  “You’ve been saying ‘one more day’ for the past seven days, Frelka! He’s not coming–”

  Shryke’s voice caught mid-sentence, and her eyes widened.

  “Beep!”

  “Beep!” came a squeak from the door.

  “Beep?” Frelka asked, turning toward the door.

  At once, the argument dropped, and they rushed toward the thin figure wrapped in black robes.

  “Beep!” Beep squeaked again as he was embraced by the two. “Please,” he began breathlessly, “I can’t breathe!”

  “Me…either…” came the breathless response from Shryke.

  Frelka opened his eyes and realized he was holding both of them two feet off the ground and squeezing them together. His smile turned into a boisterous laugh as he placed them back on the ground and shook each of their shoulders, leaving them clutching their chests and panting.

  “Sorry, ja, sometimes Frelka forgets how mighty he is,” Frelka said between laughs, flexing to emphasize his point.

  “Yes,” Shryke said between gasps, “we know…you big ox.”

  Frelka smiled wider at the term of endearment. “I told you he was not dead.” He turned to Beep. “That being said, where have you been, Beep? I must admit even I was losing hope that you would return to us. Und what’s with the new robes? Where did you get them?”

  Beep smiled mysteriously. “Beep has completed his training and now returns to his new Hive an even more fearsome fighter than he was before. You will find that Beep can now disappear into the shadows, striking unsuspecting fighters with perfect precision and silence!” He finished with a swift strike in the air with his fist.

  Frelka and Shryke stood, stunned by Beep’s speech. Shryke was the first to recover, smiling. “It’s good to have you back, Beep. The big guy was awfully sulky without you around here.” She turned to Frelka. “Now can we pack up?”

  “Pack up?” Beep interjected.

  Frelka’s expression dampened, and his eyes dropped. “I’m afraid so, Beep. It turns out that our dream of ridding the Foglands of the Fogmen is nigh impossible. Shryke and I have been talking over the last couple of weeks und have decided it’s time to leave Mongrel und make our way out of this sea of endless misery.”

  Beep stared blankly at Frelka. “Of course the Fogmen are impossible to eradicate. Did you not know this?”

  Frelka heard a snort as Shryke failed to suppress her laughter. “Told you.”

  Frelka stared at the Hiver, confused. “But Beep, if you knew this, why did you never say anything?”

  Beep again stared blankly before replying matter-of-factly, “Because Beep thought you knew.”

  Frelka heard another snort.

  “But you never said anything about leaving or fighting an endless battle?” Frelka asked, still in disbelief that he was the only one under the delusion of clearing the Foglands.

  Beep shrugged. “Why would I? Beep follows you, and you wanted to do it. Besides, we were helping the people that live here and becoming better fighters at the same time. We ate when we were hungry and drank when we were thirsty. Is there something more that Beep should have wanted?”

  Frelka felt a surge of humility flood through him. This whole time, all he could think about was earning his name, thinking only of what glory his actions could bring. Meanwhile, what was easily the weakest individual he had ever met was content simply knowing he was helping–even just one person. Content with life simply knowing his actions made him stronger and a better protector to those around him.

  He shook his head and smiled at Beep. “Shryke is right–we missed having you around, Beep. I’m always amazed at the lessons you teach me.”

  Beep’s eyes widened. “Beep teaches you?”

  Frelka laughed again. “Of course you do!” He turned to Shryke. “Okay, now we can leave.” He glanced back at Beep. “Assuming that’s okay with you?”

  Beep smiled before puffing his chest out as far as he could. “Mongrel will stay protected without us. Now it’s time to spread our might to the rest of the world!”

  “Oh,” Frelka started, eyes widening, “I almost forgot!” He moved over to the weapons chest in the corner to the right of the door. He pulled out a bundle and held it out to Beep. “I got you something!”

  Frelka unwrapped the bundle, revealing the crossbow he had bought two weeks prior.

  Shryke’s eyes widened. “That’s what was wrapped in that bundle?! Where did you find a Springbat? Err, rather, where did you find one in such good condition?! This looks…” her eyes narrowed at Frelka. “How much?”

  Frelka looked innocently at Shryke. “How much what?”

  “How much did it cost for you to stress-buy this crossbow?”

  “I did not stress-buy this,” he defended weakly. “This will be good for Beep.” He looked back to Beep. “What do you think? It’s nice, ja?” He held the crossbow out.

  Beep looked reverently at the Masterwork piece in front of him. After a moment of study, he pushed the crossbow back toward Frelka. “It is nice,” he conceded, “but Beep is a warrior! And Beep only uses the weapons he scavenges from the corpses of his fallen foes!”

  Frelka’s shoulders slumped. “But…you can still be a mighty warrior with this! Und just because you didn’t scavenge it doesn’t mean you can’t use it. I use Falling Sun, und I did not scavenge it from someone.”

  “This is true, but that is Frelka’s way. That is not the way of Beep.”

  Frelka stood, stunned and speechless. “Bu…but…” he stuttered breathlessly as he slowly took two steps back and sat down. “Thirteen thousand Cats…”

  “Thirteen thousand Cats!” Shryke shrieked. “You spent thirteen thousand Cats on that?! That’s it, from now on I’m carrying at least half of our Cats!” She marched over to Frelka and swiped the crossbow from his hands. “And give me that! If Beep doesn’t want it, I’ll use it.” She turned to place her new weapon near her gear against the wall, muttering under her breath, “Thirteen thousand Cats my ass. Now I’ve got to learn how to use a damned crossbow because you didn’t know what to do with your guilt and because you’re too proud to use a bought weapon. Men.”

  She turned back to Frelka, raising her voice back to normal. “I assume this came with ammo? Please don’t tell me you spent all that money and didn’t even get any ammo for the thing?”

  Frelka, finally recovering now that his purchase hadn’t been for naught, took a deep breath. “Ja, of course Frelka got ammo. Frelka is a master negotiator, after all.” He pointed at the other chest to the left of the door. “It’s in that chest. Scratch included five bundles of heavy bolts with the purchase.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, master negotiator.” She moved to the chest, placed one bundle of bolts near the crossbow, and stashed the others in her pack. “Great, now that that’s settled, I’m going to start packing up the rest of my stuff.”

  With that, they all slowly began packing up their home.

  For the rest of the night, Frelka and Shryke peppered Beep with questions about his month away. Beep gave some details about his training, but most of his answers remained cryptic, never stating where he had trained or even who had trained him. This didn’t seem to bother Shryke as much as it did Frelka, but eventually, they finished packing, ate dinner, and laid down to sleep.

  Tomorrow they would leave this fog for good.

  ~~

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sell the place?” Shryke asked as they closed the door to their home.

  “Why would we sell it?” Frelka asked, staring at the sign on the door.

  Shryke shrugged. “Because we could use the Cats to buy a new place wherever we’re going? Because why would we ever come back here? Because why would random strangers actually take care of the place and not trash it?”

  Like Frelka, she stared at the sign he had hung on the door:

  To any weary traveler too poor to afford a bed, please feel free to make use of our home. Just be sure to leave it as you found it for the next traveler.

  Frelka smiled proudly at his sign. “That we’ll never know. But if we can’t free Mongrel of the Fogman Scourge, the least we can do is provide a place of refuge for anyone who finds themselves in a situation like I did. Besides, it’s not like the house is going to be left completely to strangers. Right, Beep?”

  Beep smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically.

  Shryke rolled her eyes. “You two and your charity are going to be the death of me.”

  Frelka smiled and patted Shryke on the shoulder. “It’ll be the death of your pessimism, dear Shryke. Now, let’s go find Stitch.”

  They walked into the bar where Stitch and his crew typically ate breakfast. As Frelka entered and looked around, he saw them–Stitch and the other Holy Nation outlaws–all seated around a large table, eating.

  Stitch looked up and waved the group over. “Ahh, Frelka, Shryke, Beep. Come, sit and join us for breakfast!”

  The three moved toward them as the group made room.

  Frelka waved his hand. “Sorry, friends, I’m afraid we’ve already eaten. Today, we come to say goodbye. The time for us to leave is now.” He looked at Stitch. “Are you sure you und your crew don’t want to join us?”

  Stitch shook his head. “We’d never survive the journey out, I’m afraid. Besides, we’ve come to find contentment in not having the shadow of the Holy Nation looming over our backs all the time.”

  Frelka smiled and said, “Well then, we have a parting gift.” He handed Stitch a key.

  “What’s this?”

  “The key to our house.”

  Stitch rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dropping as he offered an apologetic glance to Frelka, his eyes soft and his brow drawn slightly together. “I appreciate the offer, Frelka, but we can’t afford to buy it from you, I’m afraid.”

  “You misunderstand,” Beep interjected. “We are leaving the house open to those in need, and we want to also offer it as a home to you all as well.”

  The rest of the table stopped eating all at once and stared. Stitch’s apologetic look dissolved, and a smile began to form as wrinkles gathered at the edges of his eyes. “What? Are you sure?”

  Frelka beamed, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. “Of course! Who better to inherit our home than the ones responsible for our ability to have one in the first place?”

  The stunned silence turned into excited whispers and nudging as Stitch’s smile grew. “Well, I don’t know what to say except thank you! This means more than you know, to all of us. We promise we won’t let you down! We’ll take care of your home and provide aid to any who need it!”

  The rest of the table nodded emphatically as Frelka handed the key over, and the groups said their goodbyes.

  Shryke didn’t say anything during their visit aside from her goodbyes. She had stared quietly and judgingly at Frelka as he handed the key over to Stitch without a Cat in return, but as they walked out of the tavern into the morning air, Frelka couldn’t help but notice a contented smile resting on Shryke’s face.

  ~~

  “Wait,” Frelka said, holding up his hand for the other two.

  They had been in the fog for a few hours by this point and had managed to avoid the larger groups of Fogmen. They had, of course, found a few smaller groups to skirmish with, giving Shryke the chance to practice with her new weapon, but overall, they had avoided large battles.

  The Springbat had proven its value quickly. Even with Frelka’s strength, he had to admit that the Springbat’s power was on a whole other level. Scratch hadn’t been lying when he said the thing hit like a Shek. The new weapon had been able to take down Fogmen in two–sometimes even one–properly placed bolt.

  Then again, Frelka thought, rubbing his bandaged arm, we didn’t exactly avoid getting hurt.

  He thought back to the third skirmish they’d had. Shryke had decided that she felt comfortable enough to move further back from the group during the fight to pick off the Fogmen.

  Even though both Beep and Frelka had been careful to leave a clear opening between Shryke and her targets, they still found themselves dodging bolts as they zoomed past them in battle. At one point, Frelka had been more scared of dying from friendly fire than from Fogmen.

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  It was during one of these moments that he felt a slashing pain across the outside of his left arm. He looked down to see the flesh had been shorn by a passing bolt. At the same time, the last of the Fogmen fell.

  Frelka turned to Shryke, wincing. “Ow! Are you sure you don’t want to stay closer to the action, Shryke? I’m not sure I’m ready to die just yet!

  Shryke, who had been looking concerned, her hand over her mouth, now looked mockingly at him as she pulled out a bandage and began wrapping his wound. “Aww, did the big ox get a scratch?”

  “A scratch?! You look at my arm und tell me you’d call that a scratch.”

  Shryke failed to suppress her smile. “You big baby. Look, I still hit the guy, didn’t I?”

  “You certainly did,” he said, rubbing his arm as she finished wrapping him up.

  Shryke rolled her eyes and turned to Beep. “You doin’ okay over there, Beep? Any injuries?”

  “Nothing important.”

  Shryke looked back at Frelka, smiling mischievously. “Well, Beep seems fine. Maybe you just need to get better at avoiding getting hit.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” he muttered, playfully pushing her away as his good humor returned.

  Frelka turned his thoughts back from his wound to the reason he had stopped the group. While no one had ever taken the time to actually map the Foglands, they did know the general size of the area. Since they had decided they ultimately wanted to find the Flotsam Ninjas Stitch had mentioned to the north, they chose to head in that direction until they were out of the fog. And even though they had managed to avoid larger groups up to this point, it seemed the one in front of them was going to be one they had no choice but to face. It was another sacrificial site, and it covered the entire area they needed to cross if they wanted to eventually make it out of the Foglands.

  “Looks like another sacrificial site,” Frelka commented. “Not sure how many are there, but I don’t hear screaming, ja? So at least there are no Heavies or Princes.”

  Beep walked toward the front, rolling his neck and stretching his arms. “Well, it looks like it is Beep’s turn to show you what his training has achieved.”

  Frelka and Shryke looked at him, the question clear between the two. Before they could ask, Beep put his finger to his lips, crouched down, and backed away into the fog.

  The two waited for any sign that Beep had been noticed. After a few minutes of silence, Frelka whispered, “Well, I guess whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it well enough not to get caught.”

  Shryke scoffed. “Or he was killed by someone he never saw coming.”

  Frelka scowled. “…Or that.”

  Fear set into Frelka’s heart. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. Fogmen were typically noisy fighters, but it wasn’t exactly outside the realm of possibility that Beep could’ve been killed without making much noise. He began to feel his anxiety building in his chest. He felt a shaking inside, like someone had placed a small, whirring machine where his heart should be. He was on the verge of rushing in to find Beep and run back to Mongrel when he saw a lumpy form sneaking toward them from the fog.

  They both watched as Beep came creeping out of the fog, a Fogman slung over his back. He placed the creature on the ground, and the three of them watched as it lay limply where it had been placed.

  “What is this?” Shryke asked. “You trying to show us your kill?”

  “No,” Beep answered, appalled. “Beep knocked him out. But, it would not be–”

  The form began to move, and Shryke stifled a shriek as she reflexively shot the Fogman in the head.

  “–would not be honorable to kill him while he was unconscious is what Beep was going to say,” he finished hesitantly, eyes filled with disappointment.

  “Are you kidding me?” Shryke hissed. “Wouldn’t be honorable?! Is it honorable for them to team up on us five-to-one and beat us senseless before eating us while tied to a pole?! What the shit, Beep, I thought I made this clear: honor is for the dead!”

  Beep looked dejectedly at the ground, his brows tilted upward.

  Frelka placed a hand on Beep’s shoulder, and Beep looked up, eyes filled with hope at whatever Frelka was going to say.

  “Unfortunately, Beep,” he began, and the hope disappeared from Beep’s eyes, “I have to agree with Shryke on this von. I understand what you are talking about, ja, but they would not hesitate to kill us in our sleep. Offering them a courtesy they’ve proven themselves unworthy of is, sadly, not the best idea. Especially when we are far outnumbered and deep in their territory.”

  “Holy shit,” Shryke whispered. “Did you actually listen to something I said?”

  Frelka rolled his eyes. “I always listen. It just so happens that this time you made a good point. Certain types of honor are just pride, und certain types are just foolishness.”

  Beep looked up from the ground, a hard frown pressed into his rectangular face. “Beep understands.”

  Frelka gave Beep’s shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Beep, there will be plenty of opportunities for glorious combat. Now, that aside, this”–he gestured to the dead Fogman–“was amazing! Where did you learn to knock someone out so quietly?”

  Beep’s smile returned, and he puffed his chest out proudly. “Trade secret! Now, Beep saw about fifteen Fogmen. Fourteen now,” he added, looking at the bleeding Fogman at his feet. “But Beep won’t be able to get anyone else. The rest are all too clumped under the cliff overhang.”

  “Cliff overhang?” Shryke asked.

  Beep nodded. “The whole sacrificial site is under a large cliff overhang. I got lucky with the one, but the rest are all huddled near the cliff face. They would definitely notice me.”

  Frelka placed a hand to his chin. “Even with our increased strength, fourteen is still a lot for us to take on. And it’s unlikely they’ll leave the area anytime soon.”

  Shryke chuckled and patted her crossbow. “Maybe before we got Spite here.”

  “Still can’t believe you named your crossbow,” Frelka laughed. “It’s so unlike you.”

  “What was that ‘Falling Sun’?”

  “It came with that name,” Frelka muttered.

  “Uh-huh. Now, with Spite here, I can run and reload at the same time. If you guys can keep the bulk of them busy long enough, I should be able to stay out of close range and kill them all. It’ll certainly take longer than our usual battles, so you’ll have to pace yourselves, but if you focus on just blocking their attacks instead of attacking, I bet we can do it.”

  Beep looked nervously between Shryke and Frelka’s arm. “Are you sure?”

  Shryke pointed the crossbow at Beep. “Maybe Beep Silencer would be a better name for her.”

  “Beep!”

  Frelka held up his hands. “Okay, Shryke, we get it. He raises a good point though, ja? Do you really feel that confident?”

  Shryke’s eyes hardened with a confidence and determination Frelka hadn’t known she was capable of. “It’s either that or we turn back to Mongrel. What do you think?”

  Frelka smiled. “Well then, how can I say no, ja?”

  “Good. Now,” she said, turning toward Beep, “lead us to the side of the group that’s thinnest. We’ll start on that side. I’ll take the first shot, and we’ll back into the fog some. With luck, we can avoid a large-scale fight for a little bit. We’ll repeat the process until they find us and charge. You two avoid engaging until battle is unavoidable, okay?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. Beep, lead the way.”

  Beep crouched and turned back toward the fog. They hadn’t crept far before they saw the silhouettes of the remaining Fogmen forming in the fog. Shryke placed a hand on Beep’s shoulder to stop him.

  She moved to a kneeling position, the shin of one leg flat on the ground, the foot of her other planted ahead. She rested her elbow on her knee and braced the crossbow against her shoulder.

  Frelka listened as her breathing slowed and became silent. Finally, with one final exhale, she squeezed the trigger, sending a bolt soaring through the air and into the head of the nearest Fogman.

  As she began reloading, she moved back to a crouch and ushered Beep to lead them away.

  This process repeated a couple more times. After the third kill, the group finally noticed them. Frelka and Beep took up their stances against the remaining eleven Fogmen. Despite being overwhelmed, Frelka couldn’t help but keep glancing toward Beep and Shryke to make sure they were still alive.

  The Fogmen had split relatively evenly: Beep and Frelka were surrounded by four each, with Shryke drawing three in a wide circle–always staying just outside of their reach.

  Frelka watched as Beep ducked and weaved, dancing around the feral swings of the Fogmen, shouting insults that made no sense. Frelka, meanwhile, stood firm, his stance wide and deliberate, intercepting blows with Falling Sun. Each deflection rang out in the fog. Neither pressed forward. They simply held the line, doing their best to buy Shryke the time she needed. The Fogmen hissed and circled, swinging and clawing at any openings, their lips snarling, eyes filled with hunger and hatred.

  From the mist, Frelka could hear the twang of Shryke’s crossbow cutting through the chaos, each bolt slamming into flesh with a wet thud. The two held fast like this as the seconds passed into minutes. Frelka continued to listen to the twangs of Shryke’s crossbow, an audible reminder that she was okay, while splitting his attention between deflection and watching Beep out of the corner of his eye.

  Eventually, one of Shryke’s twangs was followed by one of the Fogmen in front of Frelka slumping to the ground. He looked over to see Shryke free of her pursuers. He smiled and shifted to offense.

  “Not yet, you idiot!” he heard her shout. “There’s still like six or seven of these fuckers out here!”

  Frelka jumped mid-swing and took a bash to the shoulder. He shifted back to a defensive stance, but Shryke’s shouting had drawn attention. Two disengaged from Beep, and another split off from Frelka to chase her. Beep tried to swing at one as it ran but missed.

  “Oh shit!” Frelka heard as Shryke disappeared back into the fog.

  With just two in front of him, Frelka felt confident enough to press forward. He sent Falling Sun carving through the air, slamming against the side of one Fogman’s club. The hiss that followed told him the creature had felt it. His blade bit into flesh. He spun and caught the creature again, this time in the ribs, before it could raise its defense. The Fogman crumpled.

  Just as he turned to the other, he saw the tip of a blade jutting from its chest. The tip vanished, and the creature slumped. Beep stood behind it, proud–his two Fogmen completely forgotten in his pursuit of a kill.

  “Ha, Beep is–” His breath rushed out as he was struck from behind and fell flat on the ground.

  Fear hit Frelka like a blow to the stomach. In a moment, he felt as though he were back at that night. He rushed in, just in time to stop the other Fogman from jumping on Beep–but it cost him.

  A blow slammed into his head.

  His vision blurred, then went black.

  ~~

  “Psst. Frelka, wake up!”

  The hiss of Shryke’s voice jolted Frelka to consciousness.

  Dammit! He was tied to another pole. His head throbbed. Suddenly, that same fear gripped his stomach, and he frantically glanced around until he found Shryke tied up nearby.

  “About time,” she whispered. “Listen, we still have a little bit of time until dark, but we’ve got to get out of here before another group arrives.”

  “Wait,” Frelka began groggily, “what happened? Where’s Beep?!”

  “Quiet down,” she hissed. “I don’t know where Beep is, but I haven’t heard him scream, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She paused before adding, “Though if I find him, I’ll be the one making him scream. The idiot made another one of his stupid war speeches after we finished off the first group and got us captured!”

  “The first group?” Frelka asked. “What do you mean?”

  Shryke rolled her eyes. “Well, I was working on finishing off the last of the ones that charged me when Beep came up and saved me from taking a strike to the leg. He killed it, but then he started going on and on about how he was the hero of the battle and how he had saved me!”

  “Wait, but didn’t you just say he did?” Frelka interrupted.

  Shryke shot a dark look at him. “Yes, but only after I had killed, what, half of the group? That doesn’t make–whatever. Anyway, he frustrated me, and I told him to shut up. Next thing I know, we’ve got another group rushing us.

  “Three of them scoop you up instantly and start moving you toward the nearest pole while the rest rush toward us. I did what I could to kite the group, but eventually I ran out of bolts. I wasn’t able to pull more from my pack, and unfortunately, I had taken a few hits and couldn’t outrun them. Beep was nowhere to be found. I engaged as best I could, but there were just too many. I came to not long ago, tied to this pole.”

  “Huh…” Frelka said.

  “What?”

  “Well,” he began hesitantly, “it just sounds like your yelling might have also played a part in you guys being noticed, ja?”

  Shryke’s eyes flared with fire. “I wouldn’t have had to yell if he had kept his mouth shut. Besides, is that really what you want to focus on right now?! We’ve got to get out of here before they get too hungry. I’ve already got my bindings loosened. Once you get yours, we can try to sneak out of here. Luckily, we’re actually on the northern end of the area! With a little more luck, we should be able to continue heading north.”

  “But Beep is–”

  “Somewhere that isn’t here,” she said firmly. “We won’t find him tied to these poles. Our best bet is to get out of here and hope we get lucky and find wherever they took him.”

  Frelka’s memory of Beep being eaten played vividly in his head. Dammit, he thought, this can’t be happening again!

  Why had he been so reckless as to get himself knocked out? Surely he could have saved Beep without exposing himself like he did. He did his best to push his remorse from his mind and focused on undoing his bindings. He struggled and wriggled but couldn’t seem to find a place to begin loosening them.

  Suddenly, he felt another pair of hands picking at his bindings. He glanced back to see Beep concentrating intently on the ropes.

  “Beep!” Frelka whisper-screamed.

  “Shhh,” Beep hushed. “Beep needs to concentrate. Frelka must be quiet. Fogmen are all around and Princes are on their way. We need to leave now!”

  A moment later, Frelka was free. He and Shryke crouched down and looked at Beep, who held a finger to his lips and gestured for them to follow him.

  ~~

  Later that night, as they laid down on their bedrolls, Shryke rolled over and asked, “Where did you disappear to earlier, Beep? I thought you had been captured!”

  “Beep would have been if he had stayed. I tried to think what you would have done in the same situation and realized that our capture was inevitable. But, if I was able to sneak away, I could come back for you later. So, that’s what Beep did. I disappeared into the fog and waited until Frelka woke up.”

  “That’s…actually really smart,” Shryke said, making no attempt to hide her surprise. “I’m really proud of you, Beep. That decision may be the only reason we’re alive right now.”

  It was too dark to see either of their faces, but Frelka could tell Beep was beaming from Shryke’s unexpected praise.

  They had decided that camping on one of the hills outside of the fog was likely too dangerous. Sleeping in a secluded alcove inside the fog would provide much more cover during the night than an open plain. And since fire would only draw attention–and the Heavies and Princes came out at night–there was no sense in trying to travel after dark.

  So, they had found a secluded area and nested down. Slowly, Frelka drifted off to sleep.

  ~~

  A soul-piercing scream jolted the three of them from their sleep.

  “What the hells was that?” Frelka hissed from the darkness.

  “The same thing it is every night,” Shryke whispered, dread thick in her voice, “the sacrifices.”

  Even though they had fallen asleep to it every night since he had arrived in Mongrel, Frelka had never considered how awful it would be trying to sleep amongst the screams.

  The remainder of his night was filled with shallow sleep and haunted dreams.

  ~~

  “Oh, sweet Maker!” Shryke screamed as she ran ahead and fell to the ground. “We made it! We actually made it!”

  Tears were already falling from her face as she hugged the ground.

  Even Frelka couldn’t help but tear up at the freedom he felt. He looked back over his shoulder and down the hill at the fog behind them, like the edges of a deep ocean lapping at the shore. It had taken them almost five days to finally make their way out of the fog.

  Now that they were free, Frelka realized how heavy and oppressive the fog’s presence had become in his life. Knowing he was free from its torment made him feel lighter than he had since leaving home.

  He smiled and glanced over at Shryke, who had gotten up from the ground and was now hugging Beep tightly and bouncing up and down.

  She let go of him and turned to Frelka, rushing at him and almost tackling him with the force of her hug. “You told me you’d get us out. I didn’t believe you, but I’ll be damned if you didn’t do it, you big ox.”