## Chapter 2: When It Rains, It Pours

The rain came down in sheets so thick that Marina could barely see three feet in front of her face. Within seconds, she was soaked through. Within minutes, the forest path had turned into a river of mud.

And the bandage holding the talisman to Gromfang's forehead was getting very, very wet.

"No," Marina shouted over the roar of the storm. "No, this is fine! The ointment is waterproof! Mostly waterproof! Somewhat water-resistant!"

She watched in horror as the bandage began to sag, heavy with rainwater. The blue glow of the talisman flickered ominously.

"Gromfang, we need to find shelter! Now!"

But Gromfang had frozen in place, his head tilted back, mouth open to catch the falling rain. Even in his transformed state, he was still part reptile, and Marina remembered too late that the elder had mentioned something about him being from a desert region originally. He'd probably never seen this much water in his life.

The bandage drooped lower. The talisman shifted.

"GROMFANG!" Marina grabbed his arm—or tried to. Her hands couldn't even wrap halfway around his forearm. "We need to MOVE!"

He looked down at her, rain streaming off his scales, and blinked slowly. Then, seeming to understand the urgency in her voice, he scooped her up with one massive hand and started running.

Trees blurred past them. Marina clung to his thumb, trying not to think about how far the drop was. Gromfang crashed through the underbrush like a living battering ram, apparently deciding that the straightest path was the best path, regardless of what stood in the way.

"There!" Marina pointed to a darker shadow in the distance. "That cave! Head for the cave!"

They burst into the cave entrance just as the bandage finally gave up its fight against gravity. The talisman tumbled down, bouncing off Gromfang's chest and skittering across the stone floor.

Marina hit the ground running—literally, as Gromfang had set her down mid-stride—and dove for the talisman. She caught it just before it rolled into a puddle, clutching it to her chest like a precious jewel.

When she turned around, Gromfang was standing in the cave entrance, silhouetted against the stormy darkness. His form was shifting, the friendly transformation melting away. His teeth were lengthening. His claws were sharpening. His eyes were taking on that dangerous, hungry glow.

But he wasn't moving toward her. He was standing very, very still, his whole body trembling with the effort of control.

"You're fighting it," Marina whispered, awed. "You're actually fighting the transformation."

Gromfang's jaw clenched. A low growl emanated from deep in his chest—not threatening, but pained. He was trying so hard.

Marina looked down at the talisman in her hands. The bandage was completely destroyed, hanging in soggy strips. She didn't have time to make another one. She didn't have supplies to make another one.

She needed a different solution.

Think, Marina. Think.

The talisman couldn't touch his skin directly—that caused irritation and rejection. But it needed to stay on his forehead to work. What could serve as a permanent barrier? What could she use that wouldn't fall apart or wash away or—

Her eyes fell on her belt pouch. Specifically, on the small leather patch kit she'd brought for repairing her boots. In it was a small tin of pitch—waterproof, durable, designed to create lasting seals.

It was a terrible idea. Probably a really terrible idea. But terrible ideas were better than being eaten.

"Gromfang," she said, keeping her voice calm and steady even though her heart was racing. "I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Just for a few more minutes?"

The creature that had been Gromfang looked at her. Through the hunger and the instinct and the barely-controlled violence, something flickered in those copper eyes. Recognition. Trust.

He nodded once, jerkily.

Marina worked fast. She smeared pitch on the back of the talisman—not too much, just enough to create a tacky surface. Then she grabbed the remains of the bandage, tore off the cleanest piece, and pressed it into the pitch, creating a protective layer.

"Okay," she said, approaching slowly. "This is going to be more permanent. A lot more permanent. I'm not sure how we'll get it off when we need to, but we'll figure that out later. Right now, I just need it to stay on."

She had to climb up onto a rock formation to reach his forehead. This close, she could see every detail of his transformation starting to reverse—the way his scales were becoming rougher, his breath hotter, his muscles coiling with predatory energy.

"Easy," she murmured. "Just a few more seconds."

She pressed the talisman to his forehead. The pitch held it in place while she spoke the binding words quickly, almost frantically: "Vis domita, forma serena, bestia quieta!"

The blue glow flared bright—brighter than before, as if the magic was relieved to finally have a stable connection. Gromfang's transformation reversed in a wave, starting from his forehead and flowing down his body. The tension left his muscles. His teeth retracted. His eyes softened.

And the talisman stayed put.

Marina waited, barely breathing. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the cave, everything was still. She counted to sixty in her head. Then to one hundred. Then to two hundred.

The talisman didn't budge.

"We did it," she said, slumping against the cave wall in relief. "We actually did it. That pitch better hold for the rest of this journey because I am all out of ideas."

Gromfang made a happy rumbling sound and curled up on the cave floor. Within minutes, he was snoring—great, earthshaking snores that echoed off the cave walls.

Marina pulled her wet cloak around herself and settled in to wait out the storm. She'd build a fire once the rain stopped and her supplies weren't completely soaked. For now, she just needed to rest.

She was just starting to doze off when she heard it—a small, skittering sound from deeper in the cave. Then another. Then dozens.

Her eyes snapped open.

In the dim light, she could see them emerging from cracks in the walls: cave spiders, each one the size of her hand, with too many eyes and too many legs. They moved in unsettling synchronization, flowing across the ceiling like a living carpet.

And they were heading straight for Gromfang.

More specifically, they were heading for the glowing blue talisman on his forehead.

"Oh, come on," Marina groaned, reaching for her knife. "Can't we catch just one break?"

The first spider dropped onto Gromfang's face. He snorted in his sleep but didn't wake. The spider's legs reached out, touching the talisman experimentally, as if drawn to its magic.

Marina grabbed a stick and swatted the spider away. But three more dropped down to take its place.

"Gromfang! Wake up! We've got a situation!"

But Gromfang was deeply asleep, the kind of sleep that came from exhaustion and relief and feeling safe for the first time in hours. The spiders kept coming, more and more of them, all attracted to the magical glow.

Marina fought them off as best she could, but for every spider she knocked away, two more appeared. They weren't trying to hurt Gromfang—they just seemed fascinated by the talisman, crawling over each other in their eagerness to reach it.

One managed to grip the edge of the talisman with its legs. It pulled. The pitch held, but Marina could see it straining.

"No! Bad spider! That's not yours!"

She grabbed the spider and flung it across the cave. It hit the wall with a wet smack and scurried away. But the damage was done—more spiders had seen the talisman move, seen that it might come loose, and now they were all pulling at it with renewed enthusiasm.

Marina looked around desperately. She needed something to cover the talisman, to hide its glow, to make it less attractive to the swarm. Her eyes landed on her spare shirt, still tucked in her pack.

She grabbed it and threw it over Gromfang's head like a makeshift hood. The glowing stopped immediately, hidden beneath the fabric. The spiders paused, confused. Then, losing interest, they began to retreat back into the cracks and crevices of the cave walls.

Marina collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard. The shirt-hood made Gromfang look ridiculous, but it was working. The talisman was covered, protected from both curious spiders and potential environmental hazards.

"Tomorrow," she said to the sleeping, hooded monster, "tomorrow we're going to have a serious conversation about hazard pay. Because this is so far beyond what I signed up for."

She finally managed to start a small fire using some dry wood she found in the back of the cave. As she sat watching the flames, listening to the storm outside and Gromfang's snoring, she couldn't help but laugh.

She'd been hired to deliver a message. A simple message, across the Thornwood to the Sanctum of Whispers. The elder had promised her three gold pieces and safe passage through the forest.

"Safe passage," she muttered. "Just stick this talisman on the beast's forehead for safe passage. Nothing to it."

She poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spiraling up toward the cave ceiling.

The truth was, even with all the chaos and the falling talismans and the spider swarm, she was glad she'd taken this job. Gromfang wasn't just a beast or a monster or a magical inconvenience. He was trying. He was fighting his own nature to protect her, even when the talisman fell off.

That had to count for something.

Marina curled up near the fire, using her pack as a pillow. Through the opening of the cave, she could see the storm beginning to clear, stars peeking through breaks in the clouds.

Tomorrow they'd continue through the Thornwood. Tomorrow they'd face whatever other challenges awaited them. And tomorrow, hopefully, that talisman would stay exactly where it was supposed to stay—on Gromfang's forehead, keeping him transformed, keeping them both safe.

But just in case, Marina decided, she'd keep a very close eye on it.

And maybe invest in better adhesive.

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*The End*