Claire bounced from branch to branch and tree to tree, springing from the wood like a half-functional squirrel. The motion was surprisingly smooth. Though she had spent the first ten-odd minutes falling out of the canopy, she soon adapted to the strange environment and found her rhythm.

Her body was shockingly light. With her strength so heavily bolstered, every liberating step took her twice as far. She loved how the wind brushed against her skin, how the branches bent beneath her feet, and how they snapped when she pushed too hard. So drastic was the difference that it made her lament her previous investments—all the points she had poured into conjuring and spirit had gone to waste. She never would have obeyed her father had she known how good it felt to move her body.

“Uhmmm… Claire? What are you doing?” Sylvia stopped in front of a particularly large tree and tilted her head. “The steelwings are gonna see us if you keep messing around.”

“They won’t.” The lady was confident in her answer. The only birds she heard were strictly metal-free. “Why did you stop?”

“I wanted to show you something fun,” she said, with a giggle. “You see this tree right here?”

Following the extended paw, Claire found herself staring at a broad-leafed giant. It had a thick trunk, wide as the average man was tall, and crafted of a beautiful dark wood perfect for an expensive kitchen table. Its branches, most of which were low-hanging, were covered in sparkling white flowers, each as bright and vibrant as a fresh sprig of silk. “What of it?”

“It can make really tasty fruits. Here, watch!”

The tree groaned to life as the furball stood up on her hind legs and rapped the back of her paw against its smoothened trunk. Its roots rapidly expanded and contracted, visibly sucking water from the earth and gathering it in its stem. The lump grew, swelling to the size of her fist before moving up the trunk and towards the source of the sound. Every flower on the limb suddenly came to life, shutting their bulbs and growing to thrice their previous size. The petals fell to the ground after a moment’s delay. It was a beautiful precipitation of floral scents that bore with it a branchful of bright pink fruits.

Sylvia reached for one of the glowing peaches and twisted it off its stem. “Here, try one! It’s really good.”

Catching the fruit, Claire investigated it with a flick of the forked tongue before raising it to her lips. Its flavour was surprisingly sweet. The texture was airy, soft beyond her expectations, and there was no pit to stop her from tearing right through its core.

“It isn’t exceptional, but neither is it unaccept—” Her words were cut off by a sudden itch. The sensation crawled up her throat and into her nose before seizing her head and flinging it like a broken toy. The abrupt sneeze was accompanied by a burst of dandelion-like seeds.

Log Entry 601
You have been poisoned. You will sneeze seed bundles for the next five minutes.

Log Entry 602
Soarspore poison has been added to Envenom’s repertoire.

“Syl—” Claire sneezed. “Sylvia!” Her eyes shot towards the fox. The perpetrator in question was rolling around, cackling with tears spilling from her eyes.

“I can’t believe you actually ate it!” She choked out the words between desperate gasps. “Only cubs ever fall for that one!”

The larger halfbreed clicked her tongue. With a brief running start, she leapt into the air and reached for the fox, but the furball darted out of the way before her hands could reach her.

“Ge—” Claire sneezed. “Get back here!”

“No way!” squealed the vixen.

And so began the chase. Claire pumped her legs with all the force she could muster, breaking branch after branch as she leapt towards the forest floor. It was a vicious assault, but Sylvia was not so easily captured. She accelerated whenever her pursuer closed in and forever evaded the tips of her fingers.

The game of tag continued until they reached a small clearing. Its main feature was a watering hole, roughly ten metres in one direction and twenty in the other. The spring was so clear that it revealed the deep, subterranean source feeding its pure waters.

Sylvia dove into the water without a moment’s hesitation. Somehow, her fur remained pristine, even as she splashed around and caught a fish. It was just as dry as it had been up above. When the half-elf finally surfaced, it was to stick her tongue out at her pursuer, who stood upside-down with her arms crossed and her lips twisted into a frown.

“You know, I was expecting you to be out of breath by now,” said the vixen, “but you don’t look the slightest bit tired.”

“Blame my father’s blood,” said the lady.

“Does that mean you’re finally going to tell me what you are?” Sylvia excitedly turned herself upside down in the water and fell atop the other girl’s head.

“No,” said Claire. She grabbed one of the vixen’s paws and, before she could react, forced a peach right down her throat.

“Aaaaahh! What wa—” Sylvia sneezed. “That for!?”

“Payback,” said the bluescale, matter-of-factly.

“Wow! That’s just m—mean!”

“It’s justice. You made me eat something weird, so I made you eat it too,” said Claire.

With a blank look on her face, she slowly reached towards the fox and poked her on the nose. The canid was cautious, but because it was just a harmless boop, she didn’t immediately back away. Claire repeated the motion twice, just to reinforce its safety, before suddenly plugging the fox’s nostrils right as she sneezed.

Needless to say, the results were disastrous. Soarspore seeds spilled out of the furball’s orifices, with some leaking through her mouth, and a few even coming out of her ears.

“Aaaaaahhhh! What the heck!?” cried the victim.

“More payback.” Claire’s expression slowly shifted from her usual blank look to an unmistakable smirk.

“Wasn’t th—” The vixen sneezed. “First bit enough!?”

“Nope.” The Cadrian stuck out her tongue and sat down, her back against the tree’s trunk and her arms tucked beneath her cloak. It was a relaxing moment. She basked in the warm summer breeze with a fuzzy object at the tips of her fingers and a calm breath upon her lips.

Her reprieve was cut short when her ears caught the clinking of metal. It was still distant, but she immediately grabbed the sneezing fox and hid in the canopy, a hand clasped over the forest critter’s face to ensure her continued silence.

“Quiet. Something’s coming.” She relaxed her grip.

“I can’t!” The fox sneezed. “My nose is too itchy!”

“I said be quiet, not complain.” Rolling her eyes, Claire muzzled the vixen again and laid flat against a hidden branch.

It became clear as the sounds drew closer that there were no ravens inbound. The clinking belonged to a pair of armoured beasts. Both were four-legged, sporting humanoid upper bodies and horse-like lower halves.

Though opposite genders, the upside-down centaurs wore identical outfits—thick metal breastplates, wide enough to cover their chests from side to side. Connected directly to the solid steel protectors were long, retractable skirts, pleated sheets of metal that could be lowered to their fetlocks in combat or raised above their knees for speed. Their flanks were not as well protected. The covers that guarded them were made mostly of a soft, comfortable leather. It was obviously a design of Valencian origin, specifically a common variety focused on minimizing price instead of maximizing function.

“This looks like a good spot to take a break,” said the stallion. He was a portly man with a pair of rounded glasses. His upper half appeared fit at a glance, but glancing below his waistline revealed his lack of self-care.

“It’s barely been six hours since our last,” said the mare. Unlike her companion, she wasn’t lacking in muscle or sporting extra weight. Her body was built but thin, just like the tragically tiny ears that failed to match her otherwise pretty face.

“This is the only watering hole in the area,” said the man with a grimace. “If we don’t stop now, we’ll be out of luck for the next day.”

“Use your damn authority skill, you lazy oaf,” scoffed the woman. “Real men can march for weeks without stopping.”

“Marleena, please. Have mercy. Can you at least let me catch my breath and refill my skin?” The male placed a hand against a tree and wiped the sweat off his brow. “It won’t even take five minutes.”

Marleena wrinkled her nose and looked upon the man with disdain. “You are an ascended centaur. How is your stamina so pitiful?”

“I’m a plainsrunner, Marleena. I would have no problems in a prairie, but I am not well adapted to the forest.”

“Excuses.” Marleena trod to the spring’s shore and emptied her drink in the mud. “Hurry up. We need to get a move on.”

The man didn’t respond.

“Carter?” Turning her head, Marleena found her companion staring at a tree.

“I think I hear something.” The stallion’s head was turned in the halfbreeds’ direction, his ears twitching with every silenced sneeze. “Some sort of… sniffling.”

Marleena followed his gaze, raising her ears and opening them wide.

“Probably some critter. Just leave it. If you don’t hurry up, I’ll leave you behind. We’ve got some borroks to track,” she said, already starting to set off.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, with a defeated sigh. He moved to the water and began emptying his canteen, only to freeze again as he moved to fill it.

“What now?” groaned his companion.

“Careful,” he whispered. “There’s a huge snake in the trees. I can see its eyes in the water.”

“Kill it then,” said Marleena.

“I’d rather not.”

The mare glared at her guard. “This whole caring about animals act might be a little more believable if you weren’t a serial killer.”

“That was in the past,” he whispered. “I’m atoning, now.” Shaking his head, the stallion rose from the lake and sealed his canteen. “I’m ready.”

“Took you long enough.” The mare snorted as she walked, marching into the forest with her companion following behind her.

Claire kept her eyes on the brush even after they vanished. She callously ignored Shouldersnake, who had appeared on her shoulder to silently judge her inaction, and remained dead silent until they were far gone. Only then did she release her breath and allow the fox in her arms to do the same.

“Whew! Finally!” said Sylvia, as she ejected one last tuft of seeds. “Good thing they left when they did. Any longer and I was gonna pass out.”

“It wasn’t that long.” Claire set the furball down and gave her arms a stretch. “Where to next?”

“We’re gonna have to swim a bit.” The fox pointed a paw at the hole. “There’s a whole bunch of steelwings in the way, and we’re probably gonna get mobbed if we don’t.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “This is another prank, isn’t it?”

“Of course not, silly!” said the fox. “Why would it be a prank? Foxes never lie!”

“You’ve already lied to me at least twice.”

“Well, I’m telling the truth this time!” cried the kit. “Anyway, just follow me.” Sylvia scrambled down the tree’s trunk, attaching her feet to the forest floor as she scampered into the spring.

Claire was still suspicious but took the plunge when the fox never resurfaced. She leapt into the tiny lake with a long start, only to be outright rejected. The water pushed her out of its body and threw her back towards the marsh. It was only through sheer luck that she stuck the landing and failed to plummet straight into the mud.

Frustrated, she tried again. Her second attempt was more refined. She bounced off a particularly springy branch and drastically boosted her height. She managed to get most of her body into the lake, but not even that was enough to keep her submerged. Again, she was rejected, thrown out of the water by the swamp’s invisible pull.

It took a third attempt for the halfbreed to finally bury her body at sea. And it was then, and only then, as she felt a strange sensation in the core of her body, that she recognized a fault in the plan.

She didn’t know how to swim.

She flailed around as best she could, but the water mercilessly rejected her continued presence.

“Uhmmm… Claire? What are you doing?”

A voice eventually led the soggy mop to begrudgingly raise her head. Looking beyond her waterlogged hair, she found the fox, staring curiously with her head tilted and a paw against her chin.

“Nothing,” said Claire.

Sylvia stared for another three seconds before suddenly lighting up. “Oh yeah! I guess going that way doesn’t really work if you’re on the wrong side. One second…” She rummaged around in her tail and produced a bright red berry. “Here, eat this. It’ll make you flip.”

Though already completely defeated, Claire narrowed her eyes and slowly looked between the furball and the likely toxin before begrudgingly putting it in her mouth. She held it under her tongue and waited, breaking it between her teeth only as the fox blinked in confusion. And then, she felt it, the same sensation that had come with the previous night’s displacement, the bizarre sensation of being forcefully flipped and the subsequent pain of hitting her head against a rock-hard root.

Log Entry 603
Detect Vector Magic has reached level 4.

“Oh, and here, take this too.” Closing her eyes, Sylvia hummed a tune and forged a musical note. The magical inscription, which glowed a pale green, dissipated into the air soon after it was crafted, reforming around the pair as a thin ovular barrier barely visible to the naked eye. “It’s uhmm… probably a bit late, but it makes it so you won’t get wet and can walk and stuff.”

Claire stared down at her hands, but the fox booped her in the back of the ankle and pushed her along.

“Come on! Hurry up! I can’t keep it going forever!”

Frowning, Claire hovered a foot above the water’s surface and slowly lowered it inch by inch. Her eyes opened wide when she discovered that it slipped through the liquid without making contact.

She was unable to interact with the water at all. Her whole body, clothes and all, phased straight through it as if it were incorporeal. The sensation would have been equivalent to that of walking through the walls in her dreams if not for the fact that she could still detect the accompanying change in temperature. The hairs on her legs rose as the limbs began to shiver. The tingling cold spread with every step, rising as she slowly made her way into the sinkhole.

The feeling wasn’t so bizarre at waist or chest level, but Claire froze when it got to her face. She could feel the cold fill the insides of her mouth, regardless of whether she kept it closed. It tickled her nose as it rose through her nostrils, but she didn’t feel the urge to sneeze, nor was her breathing disrupted. And when it washed halfway over her eyes, she had to close them and hurry deeper so that she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by discomfort.

Her surroundings dimmed as she dropped down into the hole at the centre of the spring. The fall was slow and gradual. It was too dark for her to make out her surroundings in detail, but she never felt like she accelerated. The light above grew further at a steady pace. And when her feet finally met the floor, they did so gently. Her knees didn’t need to bend to support the shift in her weight, nor did she need to concern herself with staying balanced. It almost felt like she was being kept afloat, even though she was slipping right through the water.

Her arrival was accompanied by a large crackle. Lamp posts on both sides of the aquatic corridor flickered to life, revealing a rocky tunnel just a few inches beyond her height. Dark green weeds could be seen growing from within the stone, standing upright with their stems aflutter. An underwater meadow that looked nothing like the swamp.

Looking ahead, she found a long slanted slope that carried her out of the water and back into the forest. One moment, the liquid was there. And in the next, it was gone, completely removed with no hint or warning. Thoroughly confused, Claire spun around and looked behind her. She expected to see some sort of border or divider, but the path she had wandered was nowhere to be seen. The only water in her vicinity was way up above her head.

“So what did you think? Awesome, right?” Her guide wore a smug grin. “That was a fox trail! We’ve got plenty of them all over the forest.”

The creature clearly wanted an earnest answer, so she shut her lips and held her praise. “What happened to all the water?”

“It’s still there, but the path we just took is closed. You’ll need to jump down that tree to get back.” Sylvia pointed to a stump. “It’s a bit hard to explain since us foxes are the only ones that can make it work,” she said. “Oh yeah! We’re actually almost there, so if you wanna stop for anything, now’s pretty much your last chance.”

Claire paused briefly, a finger against her chin. “Are there any frogs nearby?”

“Normal ones or monstrous ones?”

“Monstrous.”

“I think there should be some over there?” Sylvia pointed a paw into the canopy. “I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be one of their nesting grounds.”

“Okay,” said Claire. “I’ll be quick. I just need a few of their antlers.”