Bob woke up. He was uncomfortable. It's just awful waking up uncomfortable. Why couldn't he wake up in a feather bed one of these days? Some right friends he had. Compassion is dead. Just then, the world shook. He was bounced up and then battered down. Yep compassion's dead alright, dead dead. Everything hurt. He kept his eyes closed and tried to wriggle himself away from the uncomfortable place. No luck. No luck at all. He was stuck somehow. He was tied up. For pity's sake, they'd tied him up? He could barely move. No rest for the weary. He'd have to risk it. He opened his eyes.

  Mud. Mud and grass. It was moving of its own accord. No that didn't make any sense. Grass wasn't supposed to wander off on its own. His dreams were creeping into the real world. He blinked. The scene remained exactly as it had been. Strange. Bob stretched out his good hand to feel the imaginary grass. The motion unbalanced him and he plummeted down. Unfortunately, he was tied up so instead of falling, he pivoted around and was dragged mercilessly along. Finally the binds snapped, deposited him on the ground in a wounded crumble. And he had thought alarm clocks were unpleasant.

  "Robert, Robert. Are you okay? He's awake. He's awake. I can't believe it, I'm so relieved."

  Sophie wrapped him in her arms. Who was this beautiful angel? And then suddenly Sophie remembered herself. She let him fall back awkwardly and painfully, as she cleared her throat and remarked, without even looking at him. "Finally he deigns to awaken from his long slumber. No compassion for his poor companions. I will have you know that on your account, my new dress was entirely ruined. Ruined I say. I will require you to purchase me several additional ones."

  "Did you say, compassion?"

  "No compassion at all."

  "Yes," Bob murmured to himself, "it's just as I feared. Compassion is dead. Long dead. Cold dead. We are all alone in the world."

  "What is he mumbling about?"

  Thankfully, Dogs understand compassion. Dogs understand that affection ought to be given open-heartedly and unsparingly. Dogs understand that humans are idiots. George was on top of Bob in less than ten seconds, his tail wagging, his hot breath peppering Bob's face. Bob cheered up.

  "George, you are one scary canine and one absolute legend. To drain the whole lake! I mean, inspired, man, inspired. Who even thinks of something like that? And how OP is your stupid satchel. I know the same item stacks, but the mana usage must have been out of this world."

  Sophie cleared her throat. Bob supposed he ought to praise her too.

  "And Sophie, your banshee charge was really something. Hats off to you I would have wet myself and begged for mercy if I had been that cow."

  Sophie cleared her throat again. What was Bob supposed to say now?

  "And thank you for treating me. I was pretty roughed up by George's fireball."

  Sophie cleared her throat a third time. Needy much? Bob scratched his head.

  "You look pretty?" He guessed.

  "Who do you think saved you from the poison? You stupid pig."

  "Ah, I sort of reckoned it just worked itself through my system."

  She scoffed (compassionately). "As if. It very much did not do so. If I had not administered the antidote, you would be a corpse. I am regretting my decision more and more every moment."

  "Sophie, that's amazing. How did you find it? I thought the shop didn't sell any."

  "I knew it at once. Butterdrafts. It was the yellow flower that the cow-monsters were grazing upon."

  "Brilliant Sophie."

  "As soon as I noticed the poison, I went straight there and I plucked it. You were most fortunate to have me with you."

  "Detective Blanchet."

  "You are making fun of me."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  "No, no I'm not. Didn't I tell you your identify power was solid? That's how you figured out it was poison right?"

  "Just so."

  "Man, the system sure loves its games. The Raupenflieger pus was the secret to defeating the Slime boss. And the innocuous-looking flowers on the lake bank are the antidote to the octopus's poison. We'll have to keep our eyes open." Bob took his own advice.

  "Sophie, what the hell is that?" Bob had finally noticed the fourth member of their company.

  "What do you mean?"

  "What do I mean. Your friend, the big, fat one, standing just behind you."

  A shaggy cow with brown fur and human face was looming over Bob. The cow was gagged. And if Bob wasn't mistaken, gagged with cut-off pieces of Sophie's muddied dress.

  "Did you expect me to carry you?"

  "And you had me riding like a sack of potatoes. Tied up no less. No wonder I feel like I'm about to hurl. I could, I could--" Bob cut himself off. His face grew serious. "Where's Harry?"

  "Calm down, Robert. The dog has him. He is inside the magic bag."

  "You could pick him up George? I thought, I thought you couldn't pick up living things..." He trailed off, afraid to follow his way to the end of that idea. "Take him out please."

  "Robert, don't. We're almost at camp."

  "Take him out. I need to see him."

  "Robert, we're still in danger here."

  Bob wanted to insist. He wanted to demand they show him Harry there and then.

  "Robert we're almost home. It's only a little further."

  "Then let's go. Let's go now."

  Bob tried to stand up. The attempt didn't last very long. Man, why has he always wounded. The poison had not worked its way through his system. And George's burns were strangely health-patch resistant. Bob was starting to appreciate the wisdom of leaving the monster-infested grasslands as quickly as possible.

  "So Robert, would you like my help getting on Betsy?" Bob didn't think he'd ever seen Sophie smile so wide.

  "You named her."

  "They are really quite docile animals."

  "Are you crazy, woman? They are vindictive monsters."

  "That one was a level 9. This one is only a level 7. They are completely powerless without their voices."

  After a short struggle and significant help, Bob managed to fall over the cow. Sophie definitely hadn't been laughing under her breath the whole time. Half a dozen times, Bob instinctively tried to pull himself up with his cloak. But he had no cloak. That's right, Harry was gone. And Bob felt naked, weak, helpless. He felt like he'd betrayed his friend.

  Betsy started to muddle forward. It was an uncomfortable ride. Of course it was. Bob glared daggers at the animal. Betsy decided to pause and tear off a patch of grass with her under-mouth. Mean-spirted creature.

  "Can't she go any faster."

  "She is a cow Robert. Not a horse."

  "She is not a cow, Sophie. I'm never going to underestimate a monster again."

  Sophie looked strangely embarrassed when Bob said that.

  "Sophie, is there something you want to tell me?"

  "No. What are you talking about?"

  "I think there is Sophie. Because now that I think about it. Shouldn't you have been able to identify the cow?"

  "Maybe."

  "Sophie."

  "It's not my fault. My power is broken. It used to be clear, well-ordered facts: 'bipedal insect, bladed appendages, grass camouflage, flight-capable, lone hunter.' And now it is all descriptive and sarcastic. I can't make heads or tails of it. 'Their singing voices are simply enchanting.' What was I supposed to think? I thought it was joking."

  Bob mentally facepalmed. "I mean, what? Soph, have you never dealt with the system before, that is the definition of a red flag." Bob breathed out. "Ok. Whatever. Fine. When did your power go all haywire."

  "Hm... I think. Yes. Wait. Now that I think about it. It only started after I met up with you."

  "Come on, Soph, don't make this my fault. I wasn't going to hold the cow song issue against you."

  "Robert, I can't believe it. It's all your fault. You've ruined my power."

  "How am I getting shouted at. Come off it Sophie. I haven't done anything. How would I even go about doing that."

  George barked. There were shadows on the grasses a couple hundred feet ahead.

  Sophie dropped to the floor. George pressed himself into the ground. Bob tried to get as flat as he could on the back of a cow. Sophie whispered, "I have my strongest repel monsters active. Monsters shouldn't attack unless we get close or show aggressive behavior." That was comforting.

  "But it might not work on D-rankers." That was less comforting.

  "Sophie. Get me off this stupid cow. I need to feel the mud."

  "That is a very weird thing to say right now Robert."

  "Shut up. I can't scout ahead unless I can touch the mud."

  "Is that a performance issue you suffer from?"

  "No it isn't. It's one of the grand laws of magic."

  "Of course it is Robert, I understand." She said, while making no move to help him.

  Fine, I'll do it myself. Bob tried to swing his leg over, failed, bellyflopped onto the ground, groaned. Cows are big animals. It was a long way down. A long, painful way. He landed in the mud with an unpleasant, squelching sound.

  "How does the mud feel, Robert?"

  "Sophie you have a lot of unjustified resentment in you. Have you ever tried a compassion mediation? I can teach you. I'm oddly informed."

  "Robert, scouting."

  "You could have helped me down."

  "I didn't want to break cover. There might be enemies."

  "Sure you didn't," he pointed at Betsy, "because they won't see the massive cow we've got with us."

  "That is a monster, as you like to repeat to me. If anything, it will disguise our presence."

  That was... a fair point. Bob got to work. He pushed his awareness into the mud. First, he double-checked behind them and to either side. Ambush predators understand that the real danger is usually behind you. When he found nothing, he probed forward, heading towards the black shapes. He swallowed. Sophie tensed.

  "Enemies? How many?"

  Bob shook his head. "I don't feel anything moving. Corpses probably."

  Sophie relaxed. "Monster corpses."

  Bob bit his lip. "I don't think so."