I don’t get to ask Golik about his strange behavior before bed, or the next day. But on our second stop since we got Myrddin I’m determined to bring it up. “Golik-” I begin again, but he isn’t listening.

“Hey Faladel.” Golik interrupts me.“Isn’t she adorable?” He holds up a small squirming baby something. I sigh, I can’t tell what it is, so I come closer.

“It’s adorable, yes, but what is it?”

“It’s a kitten! I know just what to do with you little one.” Golick cooes. I raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“That is a pretty funny looking kitten to me, Golick. Are you sure it’s a cat? Where did you find it? And what is with you and picking up cute little animals? First a horse and now a kitten?”

“She’s not an it Faladel. She’s a she. I found her near our campsite when I was gathering wood.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“I don’t know. But guess what?”

“What now?” I smile indulgently. Golik can be an idiot sometimes, some things about him don’t quite fit, but a lot of things he does are quite amusing. I feel like this is shaping up to be one of them.

“I also found this little guy. Isn’t he cute?” Golick holds up a puppy.

“Are you going to have us take him along too? First a horse, then a kitten, now a puppy?” I throw my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to help with these new friends of yours. You'll have to take care of them yourself.”

“No, Faladel you’ve got it all wrong.”

“What are we going to do with them then?” I say frowning.

“We’ll keep Myrddin, and have the puppy and kitty become friends. If they can become friends, why can’t Dwarves and elves become friends? I mean we fight like cats and dogs. Dogs can be Dwarves because they both start with D and because Lake Onik belongs to Dwarves. Cats can be elves because both you and them are light on your feet, and Lake Tabahi is in Elven territory.”

“But Golick, Elves and Dwarves are different from cats and dogs, surely you know this.” I state dryly. “For one thing neither elves or Dwarves have tails. And we are sentient, dogs and cats aren’t. Well if they are, they haven’t shown any sign of it. Not to mention we don’t have any time to train them while we’re traveling.” I say, staring at Golicks big grin as he holds up the two small animals. What is he thinking?

“Also how can you compare training two baby animals not to hate each other to stopping the war? The Dwarven king isn’t an innocent puppy who knows nothing about the war, and my parents aren’t cats.” Not sure I should have mentioned that I’m the crown prince of the nation he was fighting six months ago, but Golik doesn’t seem phased by it. He doesn’t flinch or glance at me, almost like he already knew it or he didn’t even hear me

“I’m not saying that my king is a puppy. I’m saying that a puppy can symbolize my king.”

“What’s the difference?” I say.

“Well... Well… You’ll see. Just wait.”

I sigh. “Well, I guess this means that we aren’t going to travel any more today.” I comment, and continue setting up camp. Golik had taken over supper duties completely as we came closer to civilizations because we thought it would be best if I stayed hidden in the trees on guard duty so no one would walk in on us, well specifically me, when I was distracted. “I’ll be on watch till sundown. In the meantime, you play with your new pets and start making supper. Please, nothing with meat. We’ve been eating your stew for three days now, and each time you make it, it burns.” I shake my head and begin to climb into one of the nearby trees.

“But the burning adds flavor!”

“Not the type of flavor that I like.” I retort, Golick sighs in response.

“Fine. No stew. But you’d like my stew wouldn’t you cutiepies?”

I glance down, unsurprised to find that he is looking at the two new additions to this band of misfits.

A few hours later, Golik and I look up from our duties at a loud angry hiss. It finally dawns on me why the kitten looks so weird.

“Golick.” I say quietly, from my position in my tree. “Back away slowly, don’t do anything to anger her.”

“What is she doing? What is she?” Golik replies, a frantic pitch to his voice. The creature hisses again angrily.

“I’d say she's protecting her baby Golick. Your kitten is a baby skunk, and her mom thinks you’ve kidnapped her baby and unleashed a rabid dog on it.”

“But I only found the baby!” Golick cries desperately.

“Tell that to the mommy, not to me.” I say grinning slightly and laughing inside at the terrified look on Golick’s face. He might have been slow to recognise his ‘kitten’s’ true species, but from his reaction, I’d say he’s heard what adult skunks do when they are angry or scared. I know that laughing is a mean response in this situation, but I can’t help myself; this looks like it’s going to be hilarious.

“I’m sorry!” Golick shrieks and tries to run as the mother skunk scoots her baby out of the way and lifts her tail, then she sprays Golick head on. The puppy yelps and tries to run as well, but he also gets a tail full of the stink. The skunk looks around, but doesn’t see any more attackers, and I stay still and quiet in my tree. There is no way that I’m going to reveal myself right now; I don’t want to get sprayed. The mother skunk looks at the puppy howling, bumping into trees and bushes as he runs off, and Golick wailing at the stink, and seems to smirk contentedly, trotting off with her baby following close behind. Once they are out of sight I burst into full fledged laughter at the ridiculousness of Golick’s antics. This will be quite the tale to tell when I get home.

In another week of traveling we get close enough to see the individual trees on the nearest mountains. The Dwarven countryside near the mountains is mostly grassland, and, in the rain, it looks the same everywhere. There are no defining features, no trees, homesteads, farms, or any other travelers. Just grey rain, grey sky, grey mountains in the distance, brown muddy road, and muddy yellow fields. The weather hasn’t been favorable, but our timing is still good. I was worried that we might take too long and be stuck with winter coming on while we tried to cross the snowy peaks. That would almost negate my chances of making it back home alive. We are not equipped for winter in the mountains, but can’t stay in the valley all winter because we might get caught.

And once we leave the mountains, things will only get more difficult. The last time we ran into a patrol we were nearly caught. Once we reach the front lines, those patrols will be everywhere, and will have trained scouts sweeping the areas ahead and behind them. We barely noticed the first patrol in time. I don’t think we will be so lucky when they have scouts.

Looking at the mountains ahead of us now, I feel a small shiver of fear trickle its way down my spine. I’m afraid of the future. Of what it might bring if I make it back. Of course, I want to get home, but I’m afraid that the home I remember might not be the one I return to. The people there will have changed, gone through over twenty years worth of experiences- joy, love, loss -all of which I’ve missed out on. Meanwhile, I’ve been in prison for the same amount of time, listening to people being tortured and collecting stories to stay sane. Will people recognise me? Will they even remember me? Last time I was home, I was given charge of a platoon of soldiers. Now they’re all dead, and it was my decision that led to that result. People will be upset when I return alive and their sons and daughters don’t. I hesitate, suddenly reluctant to put one foot in front of another.

Golik doesn’t seem to notice my worried introspection. He is lost in his own morose thoughts, probably about his pony. Although he has washed multiple times since the skunk/kitty incident, the stench still lingers around him which doesn’t endear him to Myrddin. She pretty much stays away from him, and won’t even come to him when he finds her a delicacy like wild apples. Not that there are many of those around anymore. She’ll carry his stuff around, but not him. This seems to upset him far more than the fact that we haven’t even tried to search for his family.

I really should probably bring that up.

“Golik,” I start out slowly, trying to put together the words in my head as I begin putting one foot in front of another again. “Remember when that Dwarf patrol was about to find us? I was about to ask you a question there.”

“Oh yeah, that. What were you going to ask?”

“Why did you claim you were looking for your family but don’t seem to prioritize that at all? It almost seems like you’ve forgotten they existed, if they ever have. How were you able to lie so blatantly to that patrol we met almost like you’d rehearsed what to say, but struggled to tell me your past? I know that some people’s pasts are really painful for them, but you really don’t seem the type to struggle to share anything.” As I continue, my thoughts crystalize and point out unique differences in behavior and they just start spilling out, one after another. I can’t believe I didn’t notice all of this stuff earlier. “You are super knowledgeable about movements for someone who didn’t care and then deserted, and super friendly with someone who has killed many of your kind in battle. When I mentioned that I was the Prince, you didn’t even flinch or pretend some sort of surprise or horror. You’re ridiculously friendly, loyal, helpful, and saved my life or prevented people from making an attempt on my life even when you supposedly didn’t know me. Plus, you’re only half a head shorter than me, which is a ridiculous height for a Dwarf. What are you? Why are you really here? Who sent you? Who are you? Elf? Dwarf? Friend? Foe? I really don’t know what to think here, but I know one thing, it’s time that you stopped keeping secrets from me!” My statement ends with a shout, not something I expected. I must be more stressed out than I thought.

Golik halts, turning around to look at me, confusion and surprise on his face. “Woah! Wait up! I couldn’t follow all that! Give me the basics! All I caught is that you think I’m keeping secrets from you.”

“You have been keeping secrets from me.” I claim, trying to go slower this time and explain logically instead of in an overemotional outburst. “I have figured that much out. You really should have at least shown interest once in going into one of the nearby towns to look for your ‘family’ instead of forgetting they existed. That really tipped me off that something was wrong, and when I went back to look at your past actions it all fell apart. You aren’t who you pretend to be. You don’t have a family you are looking for, probably aren’t a deserter because you paid attention to all of the recent troop movements. However, you didn’t seem at all troubled when you realized you were helping the Elf prince home, so you can’t be that loyal to your country. Then there is the question of why the dwarves who imprisoned you thought you deserted in the first place. Do the normal soldiers not have access to your paperwork because you are undercover or something? But surely someone would have noticed, and why would an unloyal Dwarf be undercover in their own kingdom, much less help an Elf escape their kingdom? Plus the ridiculous height difference? Are you an undercover elf?” I finish, honestly a little surprised at the outcome of my own reasoning.

Golik, however, is more shocked. He blinks at me, and I feel tempted to backtrack, apologise, and give him a chance to defend against all of the accusations I just made. But I don’t. It all just fits together, and I deserve an explanation that covers all of it.

To my surprise, a grin spreads over Golik’s face once he gets over the shock. “I heard that you were smart, but smart enough to figure out my identity before we even reach the mountains? I am impressed, Prince! Yes, I’m a spy, a King’s Archer in fact. I’m a bit of a newbie though, so this is my first real mission as a member.” Golick, well whoever he actually is, sweeps back his hair tucking it behind his pointed ears. Now that it is pulled back I notice his beard is peeling away from his cheeks. His voice has lost it's rusty Dwarven accent, and is taken over by a cheery, slightly high-pitched voice.

“Out of curiosity, how did you make your beard stay on this long?” I ask curiously.

“Oh, that’s just a sap adhesive. Super strong, but makes it very painful to pull off.” He scratched at the fraying edges, causing them to fray even more.

I desperately try to get my thoughts in order- I realy wasn’t expecting that I’d be right -and begin bombing him with questions. “What was your mission?”

“Is my mission, and it’s a need to know basis, and you weren’t on the list of people I could tell on account of you being dead and all, sorry.” He grins at me goodnaturedly. Apparently, the stupidity was only a part of his disguise. And, now that he’s dropped the act, he has a rather witty tongue. It is a drastic change, and another one that I wasn’t expecting. I grasp for a new topic.

“Well can I know your name at least?”

“Of course my undead Prince.” Not-Golick grins at me. I give him a look. “That much I can tell you. My name is Briareth Herbalar, I am an Elf and a King’s Archer as you suspected. I was apprenticed to Raegel Iarmenor, you may have heard that name before? We spent many happy years together in training. I can’t tell you the specifics of the mission that I am on- it’s classified after all -but I can tell you that it wasn’t about you. You were a bonus find. I might even get a medal for bringing you back. Your parents believe that you are dead, so they will be really happy if I can return you to them safely alive and unharmed.”

“My parents are still alive? Both of them?” I question Golik - no, Briareth -eagerly, desperate for information concerning home.

“Your father is alive and kicking, and your mother as vibrant and attention gaining as ever. With each year she ages your father seems to think that she is 10% prettier than she was last year. She seems to think that he is being 10% more ridiculous.” Briareth definitely thinks he is witty. No wonder he chose King’s Archer as a career path. His humor wouldn’t really be appreciated anywhere besides my father’s side.

“That sounds like them.” I admit. “What have they got up to in my absence?”

“Nothing too extreme. But you may have a younger sibling when you get back. I have heard them talking with Raegel about if it would be wise to try for another. Your mother doesn’t want to lose two kids to this war. Which I agree with, but technically, since you are alive, she hasn’t lost one. But she still thinks she has. Weird.”

“A younger sibling? Toddling after me and begging me to play? Are you serious?”

“Thing is, I don’t know. I’ve been on this mission for nearly a year now. They could have decided against it, or your mother could have had octuplets! I have no idea.” Briareth grins fully satisfied with my freaked out questioning.

Oh I hope my parents haven’t had octuplets. That would be hard to get used to.

We continue onward towards the mountains, chatting all the way about how much things have changed since I had been captured. Along the way, Briareth picks up a couple of sticks the length of my arm, but won’t tell me why. We are now very close to the mountain range. Suddenly, Briareth leaves Myrddin and walks off the path.

“What are you doing?” I shout out to him, confused.

“ I know a way that will get us there faster than going over the mountains! It should be right... over…. Here!” shouts back Briareth, moving one stone. Suddenly there is a rumble and it seems to me as if the whole mountainside shifts slightly to the left, revealing a hole going deep into the mountain. An underground tunnel? Brilliant! No chance of avalanches or getting trapped in a glacier this way. Probably some secret King’s Archer pass. Going under the mountains should shave off a lot of our time.

“How did you know that was there?” I say, adopting a shocked look as I run up to him. I try to peer down into the darkness. Myrddin trots up smugly behind me as if she knew it was there all along and only I am caught unaware by this new development.

“Trade secret. Sorry prince, can’t tell you.” I knew it, King’s Archer’s stuff. Briareth looks very smug, a lot like his horse.

The tunnels are long, dark, cold, and completely devoid of other life. In other words, creepy. When we talk, it echoes so much that I’m sure the Dwarves above us on the mountain tops can hear us. Our last sentences of conversation drift back to us from far away sounding completely different, as if someone else was saying them. Our torch light continuously flickers as if it would go out at any moment.

We unanimously decide to continue on through the night; even Myrddin seems freaked out by these caves. Some side caves she won’t even enter. She gently nudges Briareth out from exploring these side caves when he tries to go into them.

“Briareth,” I say to him tiredly, as he tries to go into another cave for what must be over the twentieth time. “Stop trying to go into those side caves. Look, even Myrddin doesn’t like them.”

“So you can understand her!” Is his only reply, as he immediately sets off to go down another. The horse in question, hooks her teeth into the back of his shirt and yanks him into the main tunnel again.

“No,” I protest, ignoring both of their antics. “However, any animal who doesn’t want to go into a dank, dark side cave will try and get away from it. And she is definitely trying her best to stay away and keep you out too. I also know that horses are supposed to be smart. And both her horse sense and my sixth sense are telling us to get out and stay out.”

“But one of these side caves does lead out Faladel.” Briareth says stoutly, “That’s why I keep trying to go in them.”

“Don’t you know which one leads out already? You know, from King’s Archer training?”

Briareth only looks down and shuffles his feet guiltily.

“You don’t know!” I shout at him. “But it was your suggestion that took us down here in the first place!” I quickly stop shouting as my words echo and then spread out into the darkness around us. Briareth and I both stay quiet until my angry words fade away.

“I thought that I’d know it when I saw it.” Briareth mumbles, “But all the stupid side caves down here look the same in the torchlight.”

I sigh, “Do you at least know the way back?” I say, trying to salvage the situation.

Briareth seems to shrink. “No.”

“You idiot!” I snarl out quietly, between gritted teeth. “Now we’ll never get home will we? We're going to be lost in here until we starve because of you.” I glare at him.

Briareth seems to shrink even more underneath my glare. “Sorry” he whimpers.

I take a deep breath and release it. I had briefly lost my temper with him, and I mentally reconsider using my glare, apparently it is terrifying to most people. But Briareth did just make a huge mistake which will probably cost us both our lives, so I guess it is justified.

We continue walking for what seems to be ages. I keep ahead of Briareth, even after the tunnel widens to a cavern. I don’t want to see him right now; I might lose my temper again. The torch keeps threatening to blow out.

“Hey Faladel,” Briareth attempts to start up a conversation. I stay silent. I haven’t yet forgiven him for probably killing us. “Did you ever hear the one that goes: Mountains aren’t just funny, they’re hill areas!” I don’t reply, but raise an eyebrow at the jokes' stupidity.

“Get it Faladel? Hilarious, hill areas?” Briareth sighs as he realizes that I’m not going to comment any time soon. “I thought it was funny.” He mutters quietly to himself.

“It really wasn’t. I’ve heard much better jokes in my time.” Says a deep voice that seems to be coming from both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Myrddin starts, looks up, let's out a shrill neigh, and flees.

“Myrddin!” Briareth yelps staring after his deserting horse. “Faladel, who said that?!”