Chapter Two: The Thud Heard Around The World

Cooking (while not my forte) in my little cabin had become a bit of a therapeutic thing for me, or maybe it was just about the only thing to keep me occupied aside from hunting. The quiet sizzle in the pan flared up as I dropped in a slab of pork. I glanced over at him. He had curled up on floor, this time using a stack of old papers as a bed.

I'm like 90 percent sure he was only pretending to sleep.

That's Mori for you.

He sure is a bundle of something else. He's also a good reminder that this world was utterly messed up in so many ways. Things get cursed, people (and whatever Mori is) get screwed over, and the rules didn’t apply here, not in the same way they did back home.

I sighed and flipped over breakfast.

Then, just as I was about to add some herbs, it happened.

Thud.

A loud one. A 'something-just-hit-the-ground-so-hard-my-floorboards-shook' kind of thud.

It wasn’t the kind of noise you could just ignore. Back home, I remembered how even two cars smacking together was loud enough to get anyone's attention, now imagine a hundred thousand car crashes at once.

See what I'm getting at?

I froze, and Mori—who had been resting—shot up, wide-eyed. His expression flickered with surprise, but just for a moment.

I glanced at him, eyebrows raised. He didn’t respond immediately, but then he rolled over to sit up, scratching his head with an over-exaggerated slowness, pretending that he wasn’t at least a little bit shaken up.

“Well, that’s ominous,” he said, his voice tinged with a rare hint of uncertainty. “Did you order something from the abyss?”

I didn’t take my eyes off him. “No, but you did hear that too, right? I'm not crazy?”

Mori paused, looking genuinely reluctant. “Yeah, I totally heard it. You're also crazy regardless. It sounded like something large fell from the sky.”

He paused. “But, y’know, probably nothing to worry about. It happens.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean 'it happens'?”

He flashed a grin. “You’re just lucky whatever it was didn’t land on your head.”

I sighed.

That thud had been too massive to ignore, and Mori’s nonchalance didn't help much either.

I crossed my arms. “So... are you going to check it out too then?”

Mori eyed the door as if weighing the options.

“Nah,” he said finally, shrugging as he slouched back down onto the floor, “someone has to make sure your pork tenderloin doesn't become an ashy mess.” He flashed another grin.

“Besides, you’ve got this. You’re the OP hunter, the one who wanted to stay in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, right?”

I shot him a deadpan look. “Fine. I’ll go. But you’re not getting out of the next one.”

Mori chuckled but didn’t move. “Good luck with that. I’ll just be here, ensuring your breakfast stays not burnt. I'll probably end up eating it before it gets like that anyway. So don't be too long.”

I rolled my eyes before slinging my pack over my shoulder.

Cautiously, I stepped outside, my dagger raised like a warrior who had deeply misunderstood his life’s trajectory.

And there it was.

A crater. A fresh, human-shaped crater.

Inside it, facedown in the dirt, lay a girl. Twigs in her hair. One hand clenched around a pendant.

Next to her lay a felled tree, a humongously gargantuan tree.

“What in the hell?” I whispered.

A royal girl. A noble. From Aggadonia? Or perhaps Haltzburg? I'd done deals with both families but she was a total stranger to me.

Either way, it didn't take me long to figure out that she had, very evidently, been dunked on by the largest and oldest tree in the Blackroots—an accomplishment very few could claim.

The girl wasn’t dead, by some cosmic miracle.

Just… aggressively unconscious. And sparkling. Not even metaphorically—actual sparkles dusted her dress, which either meant that it had been enchanted or a meek attempt at arts and crafts.

In all seriousness though, a noblewoman like her had literally no business being here. Not in this wilderness of all places.

There strangely was no entourage, no guards, no desperate house staff screaming her name.

Nothing.

Just her, that gaudy pendant, and an overabundance of sparkles.

I crouched down, nudging the edge of her sleeve with the tip of my dagger.

Maybe she was some ill-fated sacrificial offering. Maybe she had been flung here from a botched teleportation spell. Maybe she had simply made the worst life choices possible.

Too many 'maybes' for my liking, personally.

Still, there was something oddly deliberate about it.

Her grip on that pendant.

It was so tight, like someone who clings onto a lifeline whilst lost at sea.

I sighed the sigh of a guy who knew his peace had just been napalmed for a second time. “Look, lady, I didn’t sign up for any mail-order brides—"

A wolf howled in the distance.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled so sharply a fly could get sucked in if they got close enough.

“Fine.”

With great effort (and several choice words muttered under my breath), I scooped her up, her deadweight nearly toppling me into a neighbouring shrub.

“Note to self,” I grunted. “Bring a wheelbarrow next time.”

Her head lolled against my shoulder, and then, in the faintest, most sleep-addled voice, she mumbled,

“…Mmrph… five more minutes, Duchess Flufflepuff…”

Of course she talked in her sleep.

I carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind me just as began to pour outside.

My campsite is gonna be one muddy battlefield by the time the storm dies down.

"Ah, the elusive Distressicus Damselus—rare catch! Too bad she’ll croak once she gets a load of you.” Mori barked.

"Don't be cheeky, furball."

I dumped her onto my bed, and she immediately wrapped herself up in the bed's blankets like she was preparing to become a burrito of dramatic proportions. A deep, satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she transformed my bed into her personal cocoon.

Mori sat up with the smugness of a person who knows they’ve kicked a hornet's nest and is unreasonably proud of it.

"Finally, someone who’ll nag you more than I do! …Wait, I’m rooting for her now..."

He threw up a slow, lazy thumbs-up. “Can’t wait to see how she ruins your life.”

I glared at the scene in front of me—a sparkly princess girl now hoarding every blanket in sight, with Mori just sitting there, somehow making it all worse by being himself

I considered my options.

Option one: Scream at the sky and bank on Luminara not being on a celestial coffee break.

Option two: Take a graceful swan dive off the nearest cliff and let the laws of this world's physics handle the paperwork.

Both had their merits. Neither screamed 'great idea, man.'

The girl blinked up at me, half-buried in leaves, her bloodied silk dress clinging to her like shredded dignity.

“You’re… not my ladies’ maid,” she croaked, voice rustier than my spare axe head.

I tossed her the canteen. “Astute. Drink up. It's deer bile mixed with springwater.”

“Ah, the royal spa treatment!” The tanuki perked up, his grin sharper than my gutting knife. “Next on deck: leech facials.”

I ignored him—a survival skill I’d honed over the last couple days—as the princess recoiled. “Beg pardon?”

“Ignore the furball, drink that and stay hydrated,” I said. “Yes, it’s awful. I'll give you a couple mint leaves to chew on if you need it.”

She gagged as she drank (understandably so), her face went paler as she realized something.

Then, all raspy, she croaked out, “They’re coming.”

Oh. Cool. That’s not ominous at all.

“Who? Tax collectors? Your ex?”

Mori snorted. “Plot twist: she’s the tax collector. You should totally check her for any audits!”

“Shut it,” I warned.

The girl then started whispering something about, “The true hunters keeping watch.”

Fantastic. I tore a rag, doused it in rum I’d been saving for literally any other ocassion, and pressed it to her shoulder. She arched herself like a cat dodging spritzes of water.

“Unhand me, you… uncouth woodsman!”

“Ooh, twice insulted!” The tanuki perched on a barrel, tail twitching. “Both uncouth and the wrong job title."

I eyed the girl and Mori. “Would you prefer I leave you both as wolf chow? Because you'd be perfect for those guys!”

Mori waves his paw at me dismissively.

She shakes her head no before pausing, then nods yes.

"I... what does that even mean?"

She stared at the ceiling like she'd just solved all the mysteries of the world.

"Well?"

She stared blankly at the cloth, then at me. “…What’s a ‘true hunter’?”

I froze. “You said they were coming like two seconds ago! Dramatic whisper included.”

“Did I? When did I say this?” She tilted her head, twigs dropping from her hair. “…Where am I?”

“Oh no,” I said, backing away. “No, no, no. Amnesia tropes are meant to be season two material—do you at least have a name?"

She scrunched up her nose, eyes scanning the room for anything resembling her identity.

After staring at the walls for what felt like an eternity—she suddenly gasped and pointed toward the fireplace.

“Wait! My name is Amelia… or Amélie? Amablea? Am-I-hungry?” She patted her stomach. “…Possibly?”

"I like your thinking Amelia! This calls for a feast!" Mori jumped up.

“This is a disaster,” I muttered. “What’s your last memory? Royal grudges? Political scandals? Anything?”

She fiddled with her pendant. “There was… a lakeside view, I was high up inside. And a fancily dressed man yelling about… a kingdom's tax reforms?”

“Congratulations,” I deadpanned. “You’re either a princess or a member of the National Tax Agency. My bet's on the former."

She nods.

"Who might you be, woodsman?"

“Who am I? My name is Shiro Hoshiki... The hunter guy single-handedly ruining his peace to drag a forgetful princess through the mud back to my cabin. And this here is Mori, he's not really my pet, he just insists on never leaving."

Amelia suddenly lunged, grabbing Mori’s tail with an enthusiastic “Soft…!”

Mori’s eyes widened in panic as she clung to him like her life depended on it.

“Unclasp, ya amnesiac barnacle! My floof’s not a security blanket!” he yelped, struggling to break free.

I stepped in, prying the princess off with a firm grip. “Let go—he’s allergic to invasions of personal space.” Mori dusted himself off, his fur puffing out rebelliously. “And dignity! I'm allergic to attacks on my dignity. Look at her grip— it's like a fat kid on cake!”

“So fluffy!" She guffawed like a crazed court jester. "It's a pleasure to meet you both.”

Amelia eyed my unruly mop and shuddered.

"See that look Shiro, it's a sign... A sign you need a comb." Mori glanced over to me.

"Says you, furball. Why don't you go munch on some more of my food and play in the dirt?"

"Tch. The dirt? Do I look like a sow to you?"

Amelia nodded, her lips pinched. She opened her mouth to reply, then stopped.

“Amelia, Let’s cut to the chase. I want to know what else is going on up in that head of yours... Do you remember anything else?”

She picked at her shredded silk sleeve. “I… recall corridors. Marble floors. A man with a beard shouting, ‘You cannot tax the tides, Amelia!’”

I snorted. “Makes sense. Tide goes in, tide goes out. No one knows why.”

“You mock, but tides are vital. For trade. Defense.” She blinked, startled by her own words. “Huh. Did I… govern?”

“Bet you taxed seagulls for stealing bits of food. Ruthless.” Mori said, picking at his fur.

Amelia squinted at him, as if genuinely considering the idea. “...Would that even be enforceable?”

Mori grinned. “Only if you make the crabs your deputies.”

Amelia glanced around my cabin—the haphazardly nailed pelts, my inundation of tools and weapons sprawled everywhere.

“Do you… prefer this lifestyle?” She looked up at me from bed.

“I prefer not being stabbed and hunting's really just about the only thing I'm good at.”

Mori immediately shot up. "Oh yeah? Well, y'know, I'd say most folks aim for not being stabbed, but hey, if hunting's the only thing you're 'really just about' good at... maybe try hunting down a better skill set, huh?"

"That’s rich coming from a raccoon poorly impersonating a nobleman's advisor." Amelia replied dryly.

Mori gasped, clutching his chest. “Tanuki! Tanuki! And excuse you, I provide top-tier unsolicited advice.”

"One of these days it'll be your advice that gets your hindquarters mounted over my fireplace." I shot Mori a glare.

“Being out here entirely seems… lonely.” Amelia adjusted herself awkwardly.

“Says the girl glued to my only bed.”

She flinched. I instantly regretted it.

Mori sat up. "To be fair, it’s not just the bed. She’s also monopolizing the good air. Selfish, really.”

“Do you hate me?” Amelia whispered quietly

“Yes.” I said, my voice laced with intentional sarcasm.

“Liar. You gave me a drink of passable deer water and let me rest here. That’s… almost kindness.”

"See, this is huge for him. Last time he showed this much affection, it was toward a particularly well-crafted hunting knife." Mori chimed in.

“Hate is a strong term, now that I think about it. Let’s just say you’re… a premium subscription I didn’t order. And that goes for you too.”

I glanced at Mori who was scratching his butt.

She titled her head. “Are you always this terrible at pleasantries?”

“I’ve had better chats with squirrels.”

Amelia, leaning forward: “What do the squirrels say?”

“Something about tree nuts I think? I can never understand their chitters.”

“Weak. I speak fluent squirrel. They’re all nihilists. And bad tippers.” Mori barks.

She laughed—a bright, startled sound. Then froze, touching her lips like they’d betrayed her.

“…This feels familiar. Laughing. Arguing. Someone scolding me for both.”

“Who?”

She shrugged. “Probably a ‘royal maid’ whom somebody pays to tolerate me.”

“Ah, finally, something in common with Shiro.” Mori patted at the ground.

“Let’s table the nostalgia. We need to move. Whoever is after you, you can't run from 'em forever. They're bound to find you eventually. I'm gonna gather some more tea making herbs outside, the medicinal kind.”

"Amateur apothecary hour." Mori piped up.

I let him have that one, I was too focused on what to gather when I'd get outside to care anyway.

Amelia nodded slowly, then closed her eyes to sleep again.

I tossed the bloody, rum soaked cloth into a basin and stood, my knees cracked from hunkering down for a while at Amelia's side.

Only 17 years old in this new world and I'm already getting bad knees.

She had finally passed out again, her breathing was less heavy this time around.

The cabin reeked of rum, firewood, smoked meats, and poor life choices.

“Don’t die,” I ordered the unconscious princess, pointing a half-whittled spoon at her. “I’m not cleaning up a royal cadaver. Mori, make sure she's stable.”

"I'm a tanuki, best assistance you're getting in this particular scenario is me standing here, looking concerned… which, by the way, I'm nailing."

I sighed in defeat as I slipped outside, leaving the door cracked.

My yard was a monument to functional chaos. Next to a pile of broken and used traps that needed resetting, was a rotating spit which held the now, soaking wet and charred remains of last night’s dinner.

I knelt by a patch of Wolfsbane—useful for poisoning arrows, terrible for salads.

"This," I thought, yanking at weeds, "is why I don’t take tenants."

Amelia’s voice replayed in my head like a scratched vinyl: “You cannot tax the tides!”

“Tax the tides,” I muttered to a indifferent squirrel. “You ever hear such bureaucratic nonsense?”

The squirrel chittered, juggling an acorn.

“Right? Tides are free. Like sunshine, stress and disappointment.”

A question still gnawed at me... Why help her?

Answer A: Because she’s a walking disaster.

Answer B: Because Luminara’s accidental 'blessing' left me reflexively protective of anything dumber than a rock.

Answer C: Because her laugh—brief as it was—hadn’t made me want to throw myself into the sun.

“Option D,” he told the squirrel. “I’m an idiot.”

A twig snapped.

I froze.

At the tree line there was a sound.

Too deep for wildlife. Iron boots?

Nearby, an oak tree trunk was smeared with sap—except sap didn’t shimmer violet.

Tracking glyphs. Crap.

A shadow moved.

I lunged sideways as a long blade nearly missed my shoulder.

One of the bounty hunters Amelia rambled on about earlier—armor etched with some royal-ish coat of arms—emerged, regaining his footing for another strike.

They'd shown up sooner than I thought.

"We are so not doing this right now!" I hissed.

The bounty hunter swung at me again, and don't ask me how, but with a surge of adrenaline, I managed to close the distance.

I plunged my dagger into the gap beneath the man’s cheap leather armour and slashed upward. The enemy hunter gurgled, crumpling.

Victory? Temporary. Cost? A searing gash across my thigh.

“Should’ve… aimed higher,” I spat, yanking his blade free.

I hobbled back to the cabin in a monumental amount of pain, cursing every twig that crunched too loud. Blood soaked my pant leg, painting the forest floor in a grisly red trail.

Idiot. Slow. Distracted.

When I slammed the door behind me, Mori straightened. His usual smirk wavered, ears twitching as his gaze flicked to my torn pant leg. “Holy hell, that’s… a lot of blood,” he muttered, ears flattening.

“No kidding,” I gritted out, fumbling for bandages.

Mori stepped closer, for once not spouting some smart remark. His nose twitched, his usual dismissive air cracking. “That’s fresh. As in you barely made it here fresh.”

I ignored him, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Amelia stumbled over, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Let me—”

“Stay. Put,” I ordered.

She didn’t.

Her fingers brushed against me.

“Heal.”

Light flared from her palms, searing through my leg like a hot brand. The pain vanished in an instant, my flesh knitting together as if it had never been torn apart in the first place.

She then started glowing, her eyes widening as she presumably trying to attempt the same thing on herself. From what I could see it was sort of working but not really.

Mori let out a low whistle. “Well. That’s—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing at Amelia. He sniffed the air again, the fur on his tail puffing slightly. “That’s not just some garden-variety magic, princess.”

Shiro gawked. “What’d you do? What the hell was that!?”

Amelia blinked, swayed and then say there... expressionless.

I poked at my newly healed leg, still half-expecting it to split open again. “Never mind.”

Mori’s tail flicked, his usual flippant demeanor slipping further. He wasn’t cracking jokes now. “You sure about that?” His voice was lower, more serious than I’d ever heard it. “Shiro, that was some high-tier stuff right there. Like, churches would burn people alive for less kind of stuff.”

"Seriously, What was that?"

Amelia stared at me blankly.

“What was what?”

Classic.

She swayed, then collapsed onto the bed, snoring instantly.

"Nevermind."

Look, let’s get this straight: Amelia’s more than just a walking disaster in a tiara. Yeah, she’s forgotten her role as one of Altheria’s princesses, doesn't really remember much of her past, and thinks that “strategic retreat” means napping behind a haystack—but the universe clearly has a punchline waiting with her name on it.

I wasn't about to let the gods dish it out.

On one hand, forgetting about your psycho family is a blessing.

Royalty here’s less “happily ever after” and more “stabby ever after.” Case in point: they send assassins if you blink suspiciously, especially if you did whatever it is she did.

But on the other hand, Amelia’s amnesia wiped her most of her magic too, leaving her about as defenseless as a puppy in a lion's den.

Not ideal when the aforementioned psycho family’s scouts or third party bounty hunters are crawling the woods, painting tracking glyphs of all sorts on every tree.

As I'm explaining all this to Mori I can see he is thoroughly lost, meaning my words were less useful than chicken scratch.

“Anyway, welcome, again, to my life, furball. Just in case you weren't fully acquainted yet.”

Mori pinched the bridge of his nose. “And here I thought my biggest concern tonight was running out of rum.”

“My rum, and you can drink later,” I said, standing. “We’re moving now.”

Mori hesitated.

His eyes flicked to Amelia again before he exhaled sharply, shaking out his fur. “Right. Just… don’t get yourself ripped open again, alright? It was weird seeing your leg wound gushing out like that.”

He shuddered.

I smirked. “You do care after all, huh?”

Mori scoffed, flicking his tail. “I care about not having to go through the trouble of dragging your lifeless corpse through the woods. That’s what I care about.”

But when I turned, I caught him glancing at Amelia one last time, brows furrowed. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended to be.

Mori had been uncharacteristically silent through most of my frantic packing, eyes flicking between me and the still-snoring Amelia.

His usual onion of casual disinterest had been steadily peeling away layer by layer, first replaced by concern, then by something a bit closer to mild alarm.

Then, I reached into my infinite inventory and started stuffing bottles, weapons, and general nonsense into what looked like absolutely nothing.

Mori’s jaw nearly unhinged. “Wait—hold up—what the hell did you just do?”

I didn’t even look up. “I'm packing? What's it look like I'm doing to you?"

His tail puffed out like a startled cat. “No, no, no, no—you just made stuff disappear into thin air. You mean to tell me that you have infinite storage?!”

I grabbed a bunch of sugar cubes and a teakettle mid-hiss and chucked it into the void. “Yup.”

Mori staggered back like he’d just watched me sprout a second head. “And you never thought to mention this to me, dummy?”

I shrugged, stuffing in a handful of dried jerky.

“How in the world did you even get a skill like that?” Mori sputtered, hands on his head. “That’s cheating!”

I finally glanced at him. “Luminara’s blessing.”

Mori stared. Then he dragged a paw down his face. “That lazy divine charlatan gave you one of the most overpowered abilities in existence and left me with fleas and no way to bind myself to an owner?”

“Suddenly you're not so hyped up about being a free agent anymore, huh? And she's no charlatan. That curse of yours sounds like a skill issue to me.”

Mori glared, pointing a claw at me. “You know what? I take back my concern. Bleed out next time.”

I grabbed Amelia and yanked up from bed and led her toward the door. “Have a look at this."

“Shiro…?” she yawned, tripping over a cheese wheel. “Are we… redecorating?”

I dragged her to the window. “See those glowy things on the trees? They’re not fairy lights. They’re tracking glyphs. For you.”

Amelia gasped. “Ooh! Like breadcrumbs! To guide me home?”

“To guide knives to your face."

She blinked. “Ouch."

I nod, hoping she's following along.

Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… you know… princess.”

I sighed. “Relax. Your family’s jerks, but I’ve punted worse than their lackeys. Just stay close, don’t pet anything venomous, and for the love of sanity, put on shoes.”

She frowned at the boots I tossed her. "These boots smell funny.”

"Death does too if you spend enough time hunting out there like me. Pick your battles.”

Peering out the window, Amelia marveled at the glyphs’ “pretty glowy patterns.”

I facepalmed so hard my ancestors in the rice fields felt it.

“They’re not decor for the last time,” I snapped. “They’re basically giant ‘KILL HERE’ signs. We’re leaving. Now."

I gave up. Priorities: escape alive with Mori and Amelia first, argue with Your 'Delusionally-Royal-Highness' later.

I slammed the last of my rum, stuffing away a few extra bits of gear, weapons and food, I shouldered my pack—well, my infinite storage chock full of belongings and poor choices—and yanked Amelia and Mori outside. The glyphs pulsed tauntingly. Somewhere, Luminara was laughing.

How I wish my entire cabin could fit in my storage slot. I'd be both encumbered and decimated in seconds.

I shook away the sad thought and sprinted with them to my horse-drawn cart—rusted, splintered, and smelling vaguely of regret.

Perfect. As far as perfect gets for neglected carriages anyway.

“Get in the back you two,” I huffed, shoving a sack of moldy turnips aside.

Amelia, of course, was curtsying to the horse. “A pleasure, Sir Neighs-a-Lot! Your mane is exquisite—”

Mori squinted. “...Did she just bow to the horse?”

“Amelia. Now.”

She blinked. “Rude. We were bonding!”

“Bond silently. In. The. Carriage.”

She grumbled but climbed in. “Sir Neighs and I will simply have to yearn from afar.”

The horse snorted, which I think was horse-speak for 'I would much rather be passively munching on hay right about now.'

I vaulted into the driver’s seat, whipped the reins, and we lurched forward.

A barrel lid slid sideways, smacking Amelia in the forehead.

“Shiro! I’ve been assaulted by our new house!”

The second Amelia got whacked by the lid,

Mori burst out laughing.

“Oh man,” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. “That was better than half the street shows I’ve seen.”

“Sympathy’s in the infinite slot next to the spice rack. Hang on.”

The cart jolted forward. Amelia went flying, landed on a sack of potatoes, and let out a gleeful “THIS IS FUN!”

Mori wiped a tear from his eye. “You know what? Let’s never tell her how dire our situation actually is. I wanna see how long it takes her to realize.”

Meanwhile, I veered into the thicker woods. The glyphs pulsed faintly behind us.

I could barely see them.

Amelia stuck her head out, leaves tangled in her hair. “Are we there yet? Sir Neighs says he’s peckish—”

Mori squinted at the horse. “...Is he?”

I groaned. “Horses don’t get ‘peckish.’ And we’re not stopping.”

“But he winked at me!”

“That’s a tic!”

Then, a crossbolt whizzed past us. Amelia gasped. “Ooh! Fireworks?”

Mori’s ears flattened. “Yeah. The prickly kind that kill you.”

Someone was riding out behind us and this girl was making herself stick out like a sore thumb.

"For heaven's sake Amelia get your head back in the carriage!" I shrieked at her.

Another bolt embedded itself into the carriage.

"Now!"

Mori clicked his tongue. “Wow. I was really hoping to not die in a mobile compost bin, but here we are.”

Amelia leapt forward at me and rummaged through my inventory. “Aha!”

She hurled a wheel of cheese at our pursuers. It struck the driver dead in the forehead. He toppled from his horse, getting horrifically trampled on.

They lost control and swerved square into the ditch with a crash.

Mori blinked. “...Okay, that was impressive.”

Amelia squealed. “I’m a natural!”

“You’re a menace, with heaps more luck than me,” I muttered.

Our carriage rattled into a clearing whilst Amelia belted out some nonsense about being 'the brave cheese warrior.'

Mori had fully given up at this point, just watching her with morbid fascination.

“She’s teaching the horse how to do spells now,” he muttered under his breath.

I massaged my temples. “I need a drink.”

Mori exhaled. “And I need a bath in your hot spring."