23

First, darkness.

Then the feeling of cold, bumpy ground under him, of rocks and pebbles digging into his back in a thousand different sore spots.

Then the feeling of hot, wet, sloppy doggy kisses all around his face.

…Wait, what?

“Shit, am I dead?”

Hunter coughed up some phlegm, felt the sharp pain of bruised ribs, and opened his eye. There was someone–something–watching him from very, very close, something with stinky breath, russet fur, and big, curious eyes.

And big, big, big teeth.

“Enough, you stupid mutt, he’s come to it alright,” Fawkes grumbled from somewhere above, pulling the wolf aside–the direwolf he’d fed his sausages to the previous day, Hunter was surprised to realize. “Grimnir’s beard, let him breathe!”

The woman’s face came into view, pale like a winter moon. She looked at Hunter with a mixture of exasperation and concern, and wiped the drool off his cheeks with a handkerchief.

“You with us, lad?”

“Yes… I think. What happened? Where’s the bear?”

“I AM RIGHT HERE,” the rumbling voice said–a voice Hunter heard more clearly in his mind rather than with his ears.

“Shit, fuck…! What…?”

“BE AT EASE, AE-MAI. WE ARE FOES NO LONGER.”

Either this whole Elderpyre thing was taking a serious Alice In Wonderland kind of turn, or the blows had turned Hunter’s brain to a wonky paste. Or maybe both. There it was, a huge ursine form sitting cross-legged just a few feet away–and smoking a huge damn pipe, of all things. He could even smell the rich, woody scent of the aromatic smoke, too, if he really tried, despite his nose feeling like a swollen, bloody mess.

“Can you sit up?” Fawkes asked.

He could, as it turned out. He was sore all over, but it felt more like the dull muscle pain you get after leg day, and less like the pain you get after getting whacked halfway across a creek by a giant fucking bear.

“This silly mutt here popped out of nowhere and pulled your chestnuts out of the fire” Fawkes explained, cocking a thumb towards the wolf. “After that, we palavered. I explained our situation to Arjen here, and we came to an understanding. He even was considerate enough to tend to your wounds.”

“Wasn’t he the one who made them happen in the first place?” Hunter groaned, which made Fawkes flash him a worried, lopsided smile.

“If you’re feeling well enough to give lip to a forest god, you’re feeling well enough.”

“I AM NO GOD,” the bear said with what sounded like humility–or at least it would have, if his voice wasn’t something straight out of a 1950s Hollywood production of the Old Testament. “I AM MERELY MIR’S ASPECT.”

“I’m aware,” Fawkes said, “but the distinction would only confuse the ae-mai.”

Hunter opened his mouth to ask what this new ae-mai business was all about, why was this giant talking bear suddenly their friend, and why was the dire wolf making puppy eyes at him, but Fawkes stuck a gloved finger on his lips to silence him.

“Later, lad. Let the great one speak.”

The bear stuck its pipe at the corner of his mouth and gazed away.

“THERE IS A DARKNESS LINGERING IN THE MOUNDS OF THOSE YOU CALL THE GHOST NATION, WHISPERING THINGS IN VILE TONGUES. I SHALL OFFER YOU THE SAME COURTESY I OFFERED THE ONE THAT CAME BEFORE YOU. PROMISE TO SILENCE IT, AND I SHALL GRANT YOU SAFE PASSAGE. DO YOU ACCEPT?”

“We do,” said Fawkes, “and we thank you for your kindness.”

A new notification popped up in Hunter’s HUD.

Investigate the whispering darkness lingering in the Ghostbarrows.

Great, another reason not to want to go there, Hunter thought, but there was a silver lining to this. More tasks meant more potential gain. Given how much he’d spent gambling on silly gacha games and loot boxes, he was a sucker for the thrill of getting rewards. Still, the whole thing gave him chills.

Arjen raised his huge snout, sniffed the air, and frowned.

“IT IS SETTLED, THEN. GO. MIR WATCHES YOUR STEPS.”

“Pick your things up and let’s go, lad,” Fawkes told Hunter as she helped him up to his feet.

Hunter didn’t need to be told a second time. Friendly as he might seem now, the pipe-smoking bear was still terrifying. He picked up his glaive and his backpack from where they lay on the ground and started to make his way back to the trail they were following earlier. Curiously, the dire wolf followed him the same way a dog would.

“AE-MAI. ONE MORE THING,” the bear said and flashed him a sinister grin full of huge fangs. “IF YOU DECIDE TO HONOR HERNE’S MARK, COME SEEK ME OUT. WE’LL SEE WHO’S THE HUNTER AND WHO’S THE PREY.”

Hunter, of course, neither knew what any of that meant, nor did he have any intention of getting into a pissing contest with the gigantic not-exactly-a-forest-god that had just bitch-slapped him to unconsciousness. He just gave the bear a sheepish smile and tried to be as agreeable as possible.

“Uh… yes, will do.”

“I SHALL BE WAITING.”

“Lad, come,” Fawkes prodded Hunter. “Day’s a-wasting.”

She didn’t need to prod again. The faster he put some distance between himself and Arjen’s excited killer grin, the better.

***

“May I ask now?”

“Ask.”

“What the ever-loving fuck?”

That drew a snigger from Fawkes.

“That was another embered, like you. Well, not like you. A godling. Don’t you have those in your world?”

Hunter just gave her the blankest of stares.

“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, lad. Am I?”

She most definitely was.

“What does that ae-mai thing the godling bear kept calling me, by the way?”

“Ae-mai,” she said, letting the vowels roll off her tongue in a slow, almost lazy way. “An idiot. One made a fool by mischievous spirits.”

Well, wasn’t that nice.

“Is that what I am?” Hunter frowned.

“Apparently, yes. You bear the mark of Herne, but I’ll wager this is the first you hear of it, or else you’d never have approached Arjen’s den so willy-nilly.”

“What you just said made exactly zero sense to me,” Hunter told her, which drew another snigger.

“Oh, you poor fool. And you wonder what an ae-mai is. Oh, the irony.”

“So, what’s a Herne, and why do I have its mark?”

“A rival spirit, or so I gather–and that’s what I should be asking you.”

“I don’t know about any marks of Herne, but that goddamn bear almost gave me a hernia.”

“A pun, lad? Is that what passes for humor in your world?”

“Oh, shut up, Fawkes. At least we got indoor plumbing.”