“You get him?” A woman asked, emerging from behind a tree, a cart in tow, the wheels squeaking as they ran over the dry leaves on the ground.

The man grunted, wrapping a bandage around his palm, a cut running from one end to the other.

“Over there.”

he pointed to the young man they had been following earlier, his body lying still on the ground. “Fucker got me in the hand” he spat, raising his hand to the torch, the bandage he had just applied already stained crimson red.

“Lucky it wasn’t worse” she muttered, dragging the body towards the cart, staggering from the weight. They had stolen the cart a week ago, snatching it from the farmhouse of a senile old woman. Her deteriorating mental state had made her an easy target, the robbery if reported most likely being accredited to forgetfulness or being lost; if she even noticed that it had disappeared in the first place.

She lifted his body, heaving him onto a plank wall, gently propping him against it, careful not to wake him.

“Don’t need to be so gentle with the boy, already cast a sleeping spell on him. Can even rough him up a bit if you want” he said, making a punching gesture, a smirk plastered on his face. Ignoring him, she grabbed a stretch of rope from the back of the cart, tying his arms and legs together in a tight knot. Giving one last tug to the rope, she dumped him in, his body falling limp onto the wood.

“You sure we don’t need to cover his body up?” She asked, sitting in front of his body, shielding it from view.

The man sighed, placing his torch into the holder, ready to start pulling the hand-drawn cart. “How many times I got to tell you this Lucy, only people around right now are blackout drunk or just as shady as us.” She gave him an uncertain frown, still not entirely sure of his reasoning. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say he drank too much or something, we’ve nothing to worry about,” he reassured, earning a satisfied nod.

“Gonna be a long night, I’ll pull us for the night, but you're on warden duty tomorrow,” he said, holding a stare on her, making sure she agreed before starting to pull. She gave him a quick thumbs-up, already lying down in the back of the cart. “See you in the morning.”

Marlow, taking a quick look around, crawled out of Franceth’s trouser pocket, finding a spot on the wall of the cart. What has that idiot gotten us into?

“Just throw him in with the others, we’ll deal with him tomorrow.” the man grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. His partner in crime was in no state to argue, tossing him into the room like a sack of potatoes, his head bouncing off another person's arm. They had arrived in the early hours of the morning, having had a rather uneventful night, nobody around to question why they were traveling so late at night. They exited the room, stumbling out with unsteady steps, dizzy from their exhaustion. The door swung shut behind them, weakly clicking into its door frame.

Taking a moment to confirm the silence, Marlow stepped out from under Franceth’s shirt. He had managed to sneak a few hours of sleep, before they reached their destination, waking up every 20 minutes or so to make sure he hadn’t missed the arrival. In the hours he hadn’t been sleeping he had been thinking, trying to form a plan. In the end, he had come up with a rough outline of a plan, involving carving a series of runes onto the rope using his mandibles, however much of the plan was luck-based due to his bodily limitations. Crawling onto the body, he let out a silent cheer. The body had landed facedown, the tightly bound arms, neatly presented to him like a canvas waiting to be painted on.

It was at this moment he noticed a large misstep in his plan. He had never carved runes in his current body. ‘I’m sure it won’t be too difficult’. He adjusted his head, into a position in which he could carve, jaw tilted downwards to the rope. Only getting a few seconds into the rune, he messed up drawing a large jagged line through the whole rune.

Stamping his feet in frustration, he skittering away from the destroyed rune. It was like trying to paint with a paintbrush in his mouth, but with 2 paintbrushes, one in each corner of his mouth. He tilted his head, one mandible hanging in the air, the other carving onto the rope. Making another careless error, he moved on again starting to carve on a new portion of the rope. After several failed attempts, just when he was starting to run low on rope he could draw on, he succeeded.

It wasn’t the best work he had done, the circle curving inwards or outwards at certain points, but it was sufficient. It would take longer to activate then a perfectly drawn iteration, but he didn’t trust himself to restart, his neck sore and cramped. Jumping off the rope, he activated the rune. Franceth had been taken to a rather spacious wine cellar, the lines walled with various barrels of different colour. ‘Oak, Taim, Kertla’ He observed, noticing the odd birch barrel in several corners of the cellar. The smell of fermented grapes was strong, particularly coming from one corner, a dented barrel leaking wine from a gap in the planks.

20 minutes passed before the rune finally activated, glowing a weak orange. Marlow was beginning to wonder if the rune had been too defective to activate, however, he had confidence in his ability, and wasn’t willing to start drawing a new one. The rope ignited, starting from the middle of the rune, spreading in both directions. ‘It worked’. the fire grew as it ran down the length of the rope, getting dangerously close to Franceth’s shirt. Franceth jolted awake, a spark of flame having caught onto the shirt. He thrashed around, rolling across the floor trying to put out the flame.

“Calm down, the fires already out,” Marlow said, watching the scene from afar.

In his panic, he had snapped the rope apart, held together by a single ashen grey strand. “What’s going on, why the hell am I on fire!” he yelled, trying to stand up, only to promptly fall over, his legs still tightly bound in rope.

“Shhh! Not so loud, there’s people around.” Marlow said sternly, keeping his distance. Franceth, pushing his fingers into the knot, pulled the rope apart, letting it fall to the ground, flexing his freed legs. Stepping out of the ring of rope, he looked around. 3 people with him in the room, 2 men and 1 woman, all roughly around his age, facial features smooth and clear.

Disturbed by the ruckus, the woman began to stir, lifting her head from the barrel she was resting on. The other two hadn’t reacted, still sound asleep, scraping snores coming from their direction.

“You were kidnapped. You’re gonna have to ask these guys for more info.” Marlow said, hiding on the side of a barrel, peeking out from the corner.

“You’re a new face.” the woman said, eyeing Franceth from head to toe.

“Were you kidnapped too?” he asked, observing her face. Her skin was white as snow, her face slender and sharp, accompanied with pointed ears. Her hair mud brown, messy and unkempt. Her eyes were amethyst purple, standing out in the light of the singular lantern in the room. Catching himself staring, he averted his gaze taking a look at the other two in the room.

“Moreso bought than kidnapped, but I’m in a similar vein to you.” She said darkly, as if ashamed of the statement. He nodded, still deep in thought. “Uh… could you untie my hands.”

He broke out of thought, turning toward her. “Sure, my bad,” he said, a bit ashamed that it had taken him that long to do it. Walking over, he pushed his fingernails into the knot, picking it apart.

“Thanks” she muttered, moving her hands towards the rope around her legs. Gripping around the rope, she tore it in two, completely disregarding the knot. Franceth stepped back in surprise, not expecting that much strength.

“What, I’m Kriestan.” she said, noticing his uneasy reaction.

“Couldn’t you have just done that with the first rope?” he asked, still a bit taken aback by her sudden bout of strength.

“Arms were tied at an awkward angle.” She replied, stretching her arms and legs, jogging on the spot.

“Anyway, I’m Franceth, you?” he asked, offering his fist.

“Thyane”, she replied, as she stared at his outstretched fist.

“Apologies for not explaining. You’re supposed to shake it, it’s a custom where I’m from,” he said, noticing her uncertainty. Grabbing onto his fist, she gave it a rough shake, which caused his body to jolt forward. “Excuse me, but if you shake any harder you’ll rip my arm off,” he said, his body shaking up and down with his hand. She released his fist, mumbling out an apology as she turned away.

“I don’t want to make you have another mental breakdown, but I don’t think now is the time for pleasant conversation.” Marlow offered, watching from behind the barrel, flicking his antenna in frustration.

“Sorry if this is sudden, but I think we’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” Franceth said, waiting for a response

“It’s alright, continue.”

“First of all, what should we do with these two over here.” He pointed to the two men on their left, still out cold, snoring against the barrels.

“Your choice, I’d personally leave them,” she said bitterly, as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s been nothing but whining and crying for the past two weeks with these two idiots.”

He crouched down and started untying the rope around their hands and legs. Moving from one to the other, he noticed the distinct similarity in appearance, both being of the same height, looks, and builds.

“Are these two related?” he asked, undoing the rope on their legs, the rope tied tight enough to cause rope burns.

“Twins, wouldn’t shut up about their sappy dappy love for each other,” she grumbled, kicking a barrel. Despite the several times Franceth had tampered with their bodies, they were still fast asleep, a line of drool forming in the corner of one’s mouth. He tapped them on the shoulders, speeding up after the first few attempts. After it became clear that it wouldn’t wake them up, he gave a rough shove, one of them finally waking up.

“What yer want ya Kriestan harlot.” he moaned, letting out a low pitched yawn. Thyane started walking towards him, clenching her hand into a fist. Franceth moved between the two holding his palm out towards her, more trying to protect the man than stop the fight.

“Please don’t fight, I’m the one who woke you and I’d appreciate it if you could wake your brother up too,” Franceth said in a hurried manner, hoping she wouldn’t put her fist through his head before he finished speaking. He let out a sigh of relief, as she backed off, shooting the man an angry glare before going back to kicking the barrel.

“Ayy, Mack get up. New guy wants to talk ta us. He gave his brother a sharp slap, waking him straight up from his sleep.

“What ya want Jack, It’s like five in the morning,” Mack groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

“Well, I’ve untied your hands and I was wondering if we could maybe come up with a plan to get out of here,” Franceth said, trying to explain the situation. The twins looked down at their arms, noticing the missing rope.

“Aight, well me and Mack are outta’ here then.” The first one said, throwing his arm around his brother's shoulder, strolling towards the door.

“Come on now, you actually think they’d leave the door unlock-” The door clicked open, softly swinging open.

“Seeya” they waved, stepping out the door.

“Give them a minute before you start following, just in case they get attacked or something” Marlow offered, still hiding behind the barrels.

He and Thyane were both silent, continuing to stare at the open door. “Uhhh... let’s wait a few minutes and see what happens,” Franceth said, turning to Thyane.

“Sure, I’m in no rush,” she said, shrugging. The open door had brought much more light into the cellar, illuminating the stone walls, barrels slotted on shelves between each wall of stone brick. Franceth leaned back against an empty oak barrel, sitting on the floor.

After a few minutes passed, he got up, ready to leave the cellar. Dusting himself off, he fell over. The walls shook, dust falling from the roof, an ear-splitting explosion coming from nearby.

“Shit, that can’t be good!” Thyane said, moving to shut the door. They could hear sets of footsteps above them, rushing across the roof above them. “There’s two of them, I’ll take one, you take the other.”

Franceth sat, legs outstretched on the ground, struggling to find the words he wanted to say.

“I-I-I’ve never fought before.” he stuttered, remembering how the previous fight had gone. He didn’t think he could win, much less without weapons.

“It’s not that hard, I’ll distract them, you take one out and I'll get the other,” Thyane said flatly. She was used to working with more skilled individuals, several of which she had fought with for years.

Hearing the footsteps getting closer and closer, Franceth cut off his next question, promptly getting behind the door.

“Did you leave the door unlocked you, idiot? why am I even working with you.” the man exclaimed, approaching the door.

“You have the key idiot, if someone’s to blame it’s you.”

The door swung open, the light from outside flooding in. Thyane in the middle of the room, the torn rope pressed against her arms and legs. It was a slapdash improvisation, but unless you were really looking for it, you couldn’t really tell that the rope had been tampered with. Franceth held his breath. Their backs were turned to him. If he made a single misstep, he would get them both killed.

“Where the hell’s the other one?” the woman yelled, eyes locked on Thyane. This was the only time he could act. Franceth jumped out from behind the door, throwing his arm around the man’s neck, dragging him to the ground.

Hearing the commotion behind her, the woman spun around. “What the he-” Thyane swept her leg across the floor, knocking the woman over, before following up with a stomp to the neck, instantly killing her. Franceth meanwhile was still wrestling with the man, clawing desperately at the arm wrapped around his neck. Pressing harder, Franceth was beginning to see the difference in physique between him and Marlow. The man bit into his arm causing him to curse, but he held his arm on tight.

“Break his neck already,” Thyane shouted, watching the scuffle. Not ready to make such a big decision yet, he kept his arm tight around the man’s neck. The man bit into his arm deeper, causing him to scream, slightly loosening his grip.

“Break his neck or you’re gonna lose.” Using the opportunity, the man tried to struggle out of his loosened grip, pulling his head back. Franceth finally relented, once again tightening his grip before giving a sharp twist, closing his eyes. He dropped the body, the head bent in an unnatural position, mouth agape.

“Come on, we gotta get going.”