Joseph and Kathen exchanged no words as the wagon continued rumbling through the forest. It was becoming a more uncomfortable ride, as the natural roads of the forest, stamped into being by the endless comings and goings of guildfolk and nomads, drew to an end. Now, the cart was bumping over brambles, rocking over roots, and generally jostling them to and fro. Occasionally, through the dim lantern's light, Joseph could see the ape sniff the air for a moment, eyes like beetle shells darting into the darkness. Something was following them, perhaps. Or perhaps the ape was in an inquisitive mood. He seemed the type to pretend at exaggeration, riling up the others. Like Lazuli, or Chadwick.

No matter what it was, the cart continued on without pause. The animals occasionally exchanged words with one another – thankfully only the wolf seemed to speak in rhyme – in low voices that Joseph could barely make out.

Then, at last, the cart rattled to a stop. Joseph's heart began to hammer faster as he heard the ape slip off the driver's seat. The sinder stared down at Joseph and Kathen, its three eyes swiveling upwards for a split-second as the wolf's great muzzle pushed into view.

“Here,” the wolf said, “In the clear.”

***

Rosemary and Almogra picked up on the wagon as it pushed past the deep wood and into a clearing. Shelf trees lined the clearing on all sides, ringing the clearing in. The wagon ambled into the center of the clearing, before its driver, an orangutan, leaped down from its perch and began undoing the bindings of a midnight black horse, atop of which was a large octopus. Padding around the wagon, ears perking for any sounds, its nose sniffing the air, was a dire wolf, large and daunting. But the air was still in the Flyleaf Forest, and what little wind stirred was downwind. Atop the wagon itself was a sinder, with a red cloak like Rosemary’s.

“Don't see those every day,” Rosemary whispered.

“Indeed,” Almogra said. The two of them watched as the wolf padded to the back of the cart and leered over the prone forms of Joseph and a man with a lion's hair. Kathen, probably.

“That's Joe,” Rosemary said, “Is that your guy, there?”

“Yes,” Almogra said, “The damn fool. Caught by animals, like a common Kolovan squirrel.”

“Let's be quick about this,” Rosemary whispered. She pointed her scepter forward, only for Almogra to gently push it down.

“Careful,” the gray-hued woman said, “Look at what the sinder's carrying.”

Rosemary squinted, but she couldn't make anything out. The sinder was standing on top of the cart, her hands tucked beneath her red cloak.

“How can you see it?” she asked.

“Sharp eyes,” Almogra said, “Telescopic vision, courtesy of an implant. The sinder is carrying a Negotiator.”

“A what?”

“A type of chain the High Federation uses with rogue metahumans,” Almogra said, “Click the button, a poisoned needle inside the chain jabs into the wearer's throat. Death comes within moments.”

“That's...” Rosemary faltered, “Barbaric.”

“Barbaric answers, to barbaric peoples,” Almogra said, “It is often the only way to make a metahuman cooperate. This Joseph of yours, is he one?”

“No,” Rosemary lied, “He's magically powered.”

“I see,” Almogra said, “Regardless, one wrong move and we kill both of our fools. We must target the sinder first. Our first shot must kill her.”

Rosemary nodded, feeling a slight chill in the back of her spine at the sound of that. Oh boy, more killing. She glanced around, before she stood up.

“Going to climb a tree,” she said, “Hit from above. They'll come for you as soon as you open fire.”

“Good luck,” Almogra said.

Rosemary leaped up, grabbing onto a shelf tree and squirreling up. This particular shelf tree extended high into the night, lined with dictionaries in a hundred languages, thick and heavy bricks of paper and ink that Rosemary wouldn't dare to even try to read. The wolf was snarling something at the orangutan, his snapping, rhyming voice garbled by distance and his own inhuman throat. Rosemary was glad – whatever their argument was, it was delaying them killing Joseph.

She reached a good perch on the tree, and took aim.

***

For a moment, the wolf glared down at Joseph. He stared back, a hard look in his eye as he bit the inside of his cheek. The sinder stood over him, its three eyes blinking in unison. Its top left arm, which held the device, was twitching, probably in anticipation of Joseph trying something stupid, still holding the device that would kill him. A simple switch, and that was that.

The world was quiet.

“Go on,” Joseph said, “I'm all trussed up, ready for the knife.”

The wolf let out a low, rumbling growl from somewhere deep in its throat.

“Oh, you’re so scary,” Joseph drawled, “What a predator, killing a guy while he’s tied down and a chain around his neck.”

Something in the wolf's eyes changed. Rage, barely held down, bloomed anew as its jaws opened wide-

There was the sound of light scraping against shadow, of the gut-wrenching gunchung of a heavy plasma rifle being fired. The wolf spun, snarling, at the sudden sound.

The sinder was blown away, slamming into one of the trees and crumpling. It did not get up.

“Now!” Kathen roared.

Joseph's soul screamed to life, breaking out of his back as though he were a cocoon, arms slashing and writhing. With a great burst of strength, it grabbed hold of the chain around his neck, muscles bulging and spasming, and wrenched it free. Joseph reached up to gingerly rub his neck, relief flooding through him like a hot drink. The orangutan let out an unholy screech and leaped away as more plasma fire erupted from the forest. The wolf made to leap towards Joseph, only to be shoved away by a beam of light.

Rosemary.

Joseph's soul spun, arms reaching out to pry off Kathen's chain. With this done, the lion-haired man stumbled out of the cart and grimaced. He stood up to his feet and stretched, a plasma bolt whizzing by his head.

“Ah, well,” he said, “Not every day you see that.”

***

Almogra had emptied her clip giving this… Joseph, cover to do what he needed to do. Now the man was up, his magic in full bloom, an impressive conjuration now riding his back. The creature was swaying this way and that, considering who to target next, and it seemed to be fully under Joseph's control, the way it moved with him.

As though they are one, Almogra thought. Kathen looked worse for wear as he climbed out of the wagon, his face a full mess of purpling, blotched bruises. Medical attention would be needed, but she knew he had faced worse.

More than just a few errant Beasts of Dol. The wolf was dancing away, as was the horse. The Dillian's octopus was scurrying over, rope-like arms reaching up towards the tree Rosemary was in. Almogra swung her rifle up, in the same motion dropping the empty clip and jamming in a new one-

There. Movement to her right. No time to swing her rifle 'round. Almogra dropped it, unsheathing a dagger as the leopard pounced on her, claws digging into her arms as forcing her to the ground. The cat's fangs dripped with spittle as it snapped at her face-

***

Rosemary took aim at the horse, who was currently wheeling around the dark clearing in a panic. The ape had managed to leap onto its back, and was now riding it, shouting out orders in a whooping yell, trying to slow its midnight steed and calm it down. Joseph, meanwhile, was slowly approaching the wolf, the electrical eagle shining and covering the clearing in its signature blue. There was a dark smirk on his face. Rosemary could not help but smile at that. Out of the frying pan, Joseph was immediately ready for the fire.

Then she felt something curl around her leg. Rosemary's eyes bulged as it tugged her down. She lost her grip on her perch and flipped as the octopus flung her with a shocking strength, tumbling her through the air. She grabbed onto the first shelf she could feel, her hands crying out in pain as they gripped on, her fingernails digging into the wood. She watched her beautiful scepter tumble into the darkness, landing with a soft huff on the forest floor below.

In the dim light of the lantern and Joseph's soul, Rosemary watched as the octopus began making its way down to her, all eight tentacles writhing as it inked across the expanse of the shelf tree, its rectangle pupils seeming to stare into her soul. Rosemary danced down, scrambling away from the octopus. It was a long way down, and the way the octopus had climbed, it was definitely faster than her.

Then how come it hadn't made another attack yet?

She gritted her teeth as the octopus climbed.

***

“Alright,” Joseph said, “You wanted a fight, good boy, you're getting a fight.”

The wolf was stepping back, tail between its legs, but its teeth bared as Joseph walked towards it. He smirked at the mutt, eyes darting and considering its posture. Mekke had been teaching him about dealing with non-humanoid threats in fights like these. How to look for tells in their forms, how to know when an enemy was cowed.

This doggy looked ready to bolt. Joseph smiled at that.

“What's up, pup?” he said, “Thought you wanted to go a few rounds. For Red, right?”

He chanced a look at the fallen sinder. The one who he supposed to be Red of the Island Fair was not moving, a large, purple-tinged hole through its chest. Dead. Despite himself, Joseph’s heart fell.

Even the strange were loved, as the wolf's hackles were raised. There was something approaching grief in that growl. Joseph turned back.

“Right,” he said, dropping the act, “Let's get this over with.”

He danced forward, soul sliding along his arm and slashing at the wolf, who jogged out of the way, looking for an opening. Joseph moved with the eagle, however, always keeping himself within his soul's grasp, making sure he wasn't exposing himself to the wolf's nipping jaws.

The wolf itself was keeping pace with him, not getting too close. It knew that Joseph would tear it to pieces if it got too close.

But also, Joseph couldn't close the loop, fire a bolt of lightning, end this all in a flash of light. He would need his soul inside his body for that, not to mention time to build up a charge. And his soul was all that was keeping him from getting his throat torn out.

So it was a dance, then. Joseph was used to that.

All he would need to do is be patient, and-

The horse thundered towards him. With a snarl, the ape hit the horse's neck, causing the horse to spin, back legs kicking out. Joseph raised an arm, shielding himself from the twin hooves which shot out like bullets, ice rushing through his body. The wolf took that chance to seize forward, snarling and leaping onto the soul's back, jaws crushing the back of its neck.

Kathen stepped onto the wagon, using it as a base to leap off of. He twisted through the air for a moment with all the grace of a gymnast, before a long leg shot out, connecting with the wolf's head. The wolf let out a sudden yip of pain and released its hold, falling to the ground, plasma spilling out of its jaws.

Joseph's soul spun around, claw surging out. No longer closed, it swept at the wolf, scooping it, talons raking across its side and down its leg, hooking into fur and flesh and carrying the wolf into the air. The wolf landed with a hard huff, though it immediately got back up on its feet, limping and panting.

Behind them, the horse continued its whinnying and stamping the ground.

***

Kathen stood tall, glaring at the horse and the orangutan. The horse was rearing up onto its back legs, the ape clutching – no, pulling – the horse's mane, a horrible screech belting out from deep within his throat.

Kathen could not help but sigh. Why did the metahuman get the easy one?

The orangutan, Kathen knew, was several times stronger than he. The horse would be able to outpace him, if the ape could get control of the thing. Evidently the horse was not as intelligent as the other Beasts of Dol, nor was the ape its master. The orangutan was shrieking in the poor animal's ear, practically trying to force it to stop bucking and braying.

“Don't approach, Kate,” Merry said in his head, “One bad kick, and it's lights out.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Kathen said. He kept an eye on the pair of animals as he strode over to the sinder. He checked her pulse, noting that she was far and away dead. A tragedy – there were very few of her kind left. Then, without another word, he pried the Negotiator out of her hand, before he jogged back to the carriage. Joseph Zheng had been clumsy with his tearing off of the collars, but Kathen's was still in relatively good shape. Or, at least, the needle mechanism was.

The orangutan was snarling as he swung 'round the horse's neck, using his weight to force the horse to remain on all fours, his feet clutching the horse's sides as though they were the trunks of a tree. Kathen watched them for a moment. It was almost time for his part of this little spat.

“Alright, Merry,” he said, “What's the one thing we did wrong fighting Joseph Zheng?”

“You always faced him head on,” Merry said, “Come on, Kate, it's textbook.”

“Agreed,” Kathen said, “Never play to an opponent's strength.”

He had been disarmed after getting clobbered and tossed on the cart like a bag of grain. No pistol, no knife, the Beasts had not left him even a paperclip to use. This was going to be tricky.

“They're stronger, and they're faster,” Kathen said, more to himself than to Merry, “But you're smarter.”

“Debatable,” Merry said.

“I'm trickier,” Kathen said, “And more...”

The orangutan didn't notice him, far too concentrated on the horse to really pay attention to anything else. Kathen clambered back into the cart, hunkering down. Negotiator in one hand, collar in the other. He was smiling.

“I'm not the biggest fish in the game.”

***

The octopus was drawing closer to Rosemary, who was dropping down shelf by shelf now. Eight tentacles shot every which way, some wrapping around branches, others suckling to the flat tops of shelves, the front two reaching towards Rosemary as she clambered down. If it got to her, if it managed to wrap even a single tentacle around her wrist, it would be over. The octopus was much stronger than her, and it would be able to suffocate her without too much trouble.

She chanced a look to the ground, which was getting closer. Her sceptre lay glittering in the dirt.

“Almost there, baby,” she cooed. She dropped down another few shelves. The octopus followed.

Now. She was close enough. Bracing her legs against a shelf, she pushed off, twirling in the air for a moment before falling to the earth. She landed like a cat, legs and arms splayed out, the impact running up her limbs and shuddering her spine. She was used to such shocks, however, as she rushed over and snatched up her sceptre.

No time to think of anything special. Rosemary pointed it up towards the octopus, and opened fire. Motes of light shot out of the rose's head. The octopus rushed out of the way with each shot, far faster than when it had been pursuing Rosemary. It no longer had the advantage, and thus could not afford to take this fight so leisurely. It practically flopped down the shelf tree, dodging beams of light, and then sprung, all eight limbs splayed out as though it were an organic star.

Rosemary fired off a light, letting it float in front of her for a moment, before it expanded into a bubble around her. The octopus grappled against the dome, and Rosemary could see individual suckers puckering against the hard light, small spikes in their middles. An awful way to kill someone, Rosemary supposed.

She pointed her sceptre directly at the octopus's beak. It realized, far too late, what position it was now in. What she was about to do.

“Sucker,” she said, and she winced at her lame pun.

The beam of light was twisted into a drill, bursting out of the dome of light like a needle through the inside of a balloon, light splattering like water. The drill ate through the octopus's mouth, up through its head and out the other side. The octopus's eight tentacles splayed and writhed as its body wilted off of the broken bubble. Rosemary danced back, a dark look on her face.

***

The orangutan finally got the horse under control, beating a fist against its neck and letting out one last, guttural scream in its ear. Joseph supposed the poor animal must be half-deaf, the way the ape's last roar echoed through the night. The wolf was cowed, broken, whimpering its way over to the fallen form of the sinder, dragging its back leg behind it. Joseph had to turn away from that, instead bringing his attention to the ape and horse.

He could see Kathen in the cart, and made sure not to look at him too closely. Evidently the lion-haired man had his own ideas. Joseph's soul turned, ready to take the stallion's charge. The orangutan whipped a fist into the horse's side, causing it to start galloping forward. It surged across the clearing. Joseph took a deep breath. Concentrated. Found himself sliding into his boxer’s stance.

The eagle's fist came down upon the horse, cracking against its back. The horse continued plowing forward against the soul's blue mass, pushing against it, teeth biting into plasmatic flesh. Joseph dug the eagle's claws into the horse's body, blood spurting out of its ebony hide.

And then he saw a flash of matted orange.

The ape.

The orangutan had used the horse to distract the soul-

The fist cracked against Joseph's face. He felt his head whip back, his feet leave the ground. He felt the soul move to react, saw through its all-too-sharp eyes as the horse plowed on barreling over it, a wave of black that now trampled on the soul. Hooves slamming into its chest, its back, its head.

Its eyes.

Joseph's soul receded back into his body, and he felt cold pain overwhelm him.

Cold pain, turned red hot as the ape cracked him in the head again.

“Again, we do this,” the orangutan panted, “Again!”

Another hammer-like fist rang down. Joseph saw stars. He was aware, dimly, of the horse galloping away, of the fact that there was nothing but night once more, his soul no longer shining as a star.

The ape's fist came up again.

This was it. He heard Rosemary let out a shout.

And then the ape stopped.

Joseph opened a purpling eye.

Kathen stood over the orangutan, the remains of his collar wrapped around the ape's neck. He had a ferocious grin on his face in what little light remained in the clearing, a result of Rosemary's sceptre and the eagle's blood.

Without another word, he clicked something in his hand. The ape's eyes widened as the needle in the collar clicked. Foam bubbled out of the animal's mouth as Kathen pushed it aside. The orangutan landed with a clump in the grass.

“Nice,” Joseph coughed, “Nice...”

His vision was blurring. The lion-haired man had a sudden stricken look on his face as he knelt down to Joseph, cradling his head in his arms.

There was an explosion of movement just beyond the clearing's rim.

***

Kathen glanced up as the edge of the clearing erupted into movement. He squinted in the darkness of the Flyleaf as a massive, shaggy form emerged from the wood, great paws pushing down shelf trees, its bulk brushing up against the tallest oaks and rustling their leaves.

It was a monster of some sort.

A creature, from out of his nightmares.

Easily the size of a building, it moved with the grace of a continent into the clearing.

“A... A bear,” Merry's voice was quiet in his ear, as though any sound, any sound at all, would alert the moving mountain to their presence. Yet Kathen knew the bear already knew of them. Already smelled them. Heard them. Saw them. The bear padded into the clearing's center, each movement shaking the earth, swaying the trees.

With an almost unnatural silence, it made its way to the crumpled form of the sinder. Sniffed it. Let a groan escape its maw.

The wolf, who had moved away from the bear, now limped its way towards it, tail between its legs and its head low to the ground. Even in the dusk of the wood, Kathen could see the canine's glass-like eyes widened in something between fear and whining supplication.

“My lord, I pray for help,” the wolf wheezed, “These fools make me for a whelp-”

The bear swiped. The wolf went flying in a spray of gore, its upper half annihilated. What remained sailed through the night, crashed into the trees. For a heartbeat, the world rained red. The bear turned to face Kathen and the others.

Kathen's chest was burning, the way his heart thumped. He began to rise, the fight or flight response rushing through his system. He was like a rabbit, caught in the open, with no chance of escape. The bear braced.

“Krosa!”

Almogra walked out of the brush, her mechanical hand lighting up to stave away the dark. A dark scratch bled across her ashen face as she strode out, her rune-etched arm dragging a dead leopard by its tail. Blood stained the grass as she walked, a testament to the grisly rents in the cat's stomach and neck.

“Krosa!” Almogra spat again, “You face Pagan Chorus, if you choose to stand here!”

The bear ceased its tensing. Kathen's eyes widened as the mountain began to move, its front legs lifting off the ground, its back arching, the entire behemoth standing on two legs, and the bear became a tower, a seeming symbol of all things powerful and primal.

Its head stood over the treeline. It stared down at Krosa.

“Almogra,” the bear's voice rumbled and shook the earth and the air, “Of the Gray-Dusk Skies.”

“I am she,” Kathen could not help but wonder how she could talk, staring up at the beast like that, not even a shiver in her voice.

“You are of Pagan Chorus.”

“Yes,” Almogra said, “The one with the wild hair is of my guild as well.”

She glanced at the last figure in the clearing, an elf that Kathen had not seen before. Her red cloak reminded Kathen of the sinder's, and she clutched a rose encased in glass in hand. A sceptre, if he thought on it.

“The elf, as well as her companion, are under Pagan Chorus's protection, as well,” Almgora said, “You will not harm them.”

The bear let out a low growl.

“You have slain many of my compatriots, Pagan Chorus,” the bear said, “Including a favored one of mine, the sinder known as Red of the Island Fair.”

“And your guild has harmed mine,” Almogra said, “I am sure without good reason, is that true?”

She looked at Kathen, who gave a nod. He took a deep breath to soothe his shaking hands, and looked up to Krosa, craning his head to look the bear dead in the eyes.

“It's true,” he said, “Your guild ambushed me. Ambushed Joseph Zheng, too.”

“Zheng?” the bear growled.

With a deep thud, Krosa returned to all fours. His boulder-like head moved close, so close his wet nose glistened in Joseph Zheng’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, Kathen could see Almogra start, her mechanical arm melding into a rifle.

“Zheng,” the bear said, and he breathed in deep, whipping Joseph Zheng's hair forward, sucking in the cold of the world, before exhaling it into a warm, humid fog, “He has her scent. He is her kin.”

Almogra stepped forward.

“Back away from him, Krosa,” she warned, “Let us hold palaver. Reparation can be made for your fallen guildmates.”

“For the leopard, the sinder, the ape, and the octopus,” Krosa grunted, and his voice was harsh so close to Kathen's ears, “The wolf was a fool, and thus had no worth. Very well.”

He moved back.

“You and I will hold palaver. Our own moot. Much must be paid for this...”

He glanced at Kathen, though he saw the bear's eyes slide down to Joseph Zheng.

“For this slaughter.”

***

Krosa and Almogra walked off to the side, the bear lying on his stomach and glowering at the Coribaldi, Almogra sitting cross-legged and returning his glare. They began exchanging words as the elf ran over to Joseph. She was reaching into a pack, pulling out a few leaves. Elven medicine, Kathen supposed. The stuff of witches.

“Here,” she said, “Keep his head up. Let me take a look at him.”

Kathen did so, resting Joseph Zheng's head on his knees, cradling the sides with his hands. The elf began applying the leaves to Joseph's face, reducing the swelling that was now blooming out of his skull. She then unwound a package of gauze, and wrapped it around his head.

Joseph Zheng continued staring at Kathen. There was a glint in the metahuman's eye, that even after taking multiple shots to the head, even though he must surely be drifting in and out of consciousness, stayed gleaming. Joseph Zheng was still there.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was sure.

“...Greetings, metahuman,” Kathen said.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Joseph Zheng said, “Like I'm... I'm an animal.”

Kathen grimaced to himself, and looked away.

“Keep him talking,” the elf said, “Keep him conscious. He's taken some good licks before, but...”

She glanced down at Joseph Zheng, and Kathen saw something dance in her eyes. Like how the others in Pagan Chorus looked at him. This metahuman was loved. Kathen sighed.

“Right,” he said, “Uh, what about?”

“Your guildmate, maybe,” the elf said, “The one you were getting the book for. Fighting Joe over it.”

“Joe,” Kathen said, and he rolled the nickname on his tongue, “Ah, right. His name is Antular.”

The name stirred memories for him, and he could not help but smile.

***

And Kathen spoke of this… Antular, to Joseph, as Rosemary bound his head and rubbed crushed leaves into his skin. He remained awake, his world fuzzy and dark, though he supposed that was because of the lack of light in the clearing. Distantly, he heard the words of the bear and the Pagan Chorus guildmember, their voices low and groaning.

But he listened more to Kathen. The lion-haired man told of him Antular, of first meeting him when he was a child, when Kathen was nothing more than a wild-eyed orphan on a city-bloated world. It had been Antular who had picked up the young Kathen, bringing him aboard a ship, watching his progress over the years, as he was one of the many children Pagan Chorus took in. It was Antular who had pushed Kathen for a more proactive role within the guild. Without Antular, Kathen would never have met their guildmaster.

But he spoke more than of just that. He spoke of the kindness in Antular. His voice was so warm it staved off the cold winds of Milky Dawn. He walked with a cane, its rapping against the stone floor of Mausoleum a constant comfort in Kathen's childhood. Antular’s eyes lit up whenever one mentioned antique starships, and he could list every single type, every single class, every single variation, from throughout the High Federation's history. Model ships lined his office, and Kathen chuckled at the memory of building his first one with him, piece by ever-tiny piece, the glue sticking to his fingers, getting under his nails. He spoke of the first time Antular went on a mission with him, an awful misadventure on a world in the Outer Reach, where they spent three weeks lost in a purple-leafed jungle.

Kathen's voice took on a new cadence as he spoke. Gone were the rough edges, the thinly-veiled drawl, the rebellion. He spoke of Antular as if the alien were an angel. There was good in the multiverse, and it came in the form of a feathered, scaled creature with a potbelly and too-long nails.

Joseph could not help but feel jealous, at the obvious warmth Kathen had for his family.

He could not help but feel guilty, too. And he held onto this guilt as Rosemary finished wrapping him up.

“I think we're good,” she said, “Joe, can you stand?”

“I think so,” Joseph murmured. He noted how Rosemary had to strain to hear him. Both she and Kathen rose. Kathen offered him a hand. Joseph took it, his world whirling as he was pulled to his feet. He felt Rosemary supporting him, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

But he could walk.

Whatever Kathen's guildmate had said, it seemed to satisfy the bear. The massive, shaggy form began moving away, the midnight horse tagging along, making sure to stay well outside of the bear's wake. The two of them disappeared into the wood.

Kathen's guildmate stepped over to them.

“Well,” she said, “You have certainly made a mess of things, Kate.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Sorry.”

But the woman rolled her shoulders in a shrug.

“It happens,” she said, “I am disappointed in you, Kathen. But that is alright. You have disappointed me before.”

Joseph thought that was an odd thing to say, but Kathen nevertheless smiled. The woman ruffled his hair.

“I hope they didn't hurt you too badly.”

“I've been licked before,” Kathen said, “It wasn't too bad.”

“Come, let us go,” the woman said. She turned to Rosemary and Joseph, “I hope we will have no other trouble.”

“No,” Rosemary said, “We'll follow you.”

“No funny business,” the woman said.

“If Joe tries anything, I'll brain him myself,” Rosemary smiled.

The woman grinned, and together the four of them started off back to InterGuild.