"About fucking time, Argin. Weren't we paying you to keep us safe?" An old man grumbled, he was wrapped in wool even in the heat. His white hair sat like a feathery fringe around the cap covering what was likely a bald top.

  "Grandpa, how could they keep us safe from flying debris?" I upped grandpa’s age, since the woman holding him looked older than me. She looked resigned as they huddled under the wagon.

  "Magic—they're Heroes of the Hunt, they've got to have magic. Look at that kid there." The hunched old man pointed at Ash. "He's using magic."

  A woman gave us an apologetic smile, as though she was used to his antics. She was wrapped from head to toe in the sandy desert garb most of the caravan sported. He had dark wools, as though it wasn’t possible for him to overheat. I was curious why they'd gotten under cover when so many others hadn't.

  [Your Mom's Party] stood there with our imbued shield looking stupidly at the pair, before I realized everyone was waiting on me to give a command. I knew Ash was exhausted from running his magic constantly, so I went with a hasty decision.

  "Let's take a break, everyone under the wagon."

  You sure? That funnel cloud is only getting closer.

  I glanced back, only to have the rest of my party take my advice. They ducked under the wagon, and the wooden shield suddenly smacked me in the head. I dropped to a knee.

  I'm not sure what makes you think I'm into this.

  I'd fallen forward, with Richard squished between the shield and my neck.

  [Enlarge].

  Suddenly the slug was three times bigger, pushing at the shield to give us space.

  I rolled out from under it, [Enlarged] Richard almost smothering my head as we awkwardly rolled.

  Owe, did I just get a splinter?! he whined.

  I was eating sand, the goose egg on my head throbbing. Being the 'leader' was not my cup of tea.

  I sat up. Argin stared at me wide-eyed. She obviously hadn't seen Richard and my antics before. No one else reacted. The old guy’s eyes were milky and faded with age, and thankfully I don’t think he even noticed.

  “Moooo,” a frantic oxen had broken loose from its harness. It was a larger beast, with a silver pan emblazoned on the leather straps denoting it belonged to the chef’s wagon. We collectively watched as it galloped away, untouched by debris as though it was hoof-blessed.

  “Well, there goes the last ox.” Grandpa spat, as though it was our fault.

  "We can't outrun the funnel without oxen, and they're all dead. Well, all except that one." Tandy sounded uncharacteristically hopeless. Ash started arguing with her, his nature winning out.

  None of the team was worried about Richard or me..

  "Are you okay?" Argin asked. For a second I wondered just how hard I'd hit my head. Why would she care?

  "I think so?" I fuzzily checked my status, noting the [Concussed] status.

  He's fine, I'm the one with a fucking tree branch stuck in my skin!

  Richard slid down my arm, his eyestalks whipping around wildly. I searched his body to find a toothpick-sized splinter sticking out from one of his black spots. I reached out my fingers, brushing the offending spike, and the slug quivered, mentally squealing.

  With a sharp yank, I pulled it free. The [Immortal] banana slug clung to my arm, eyestalks sliming as he looked up at me.

  It was just a splinter.

  "You're going to be okay." My mind raced. What had my mom done when I was a kid? I patted him on the head. "Do you need a wet washcloth? Why don't you use some slime to heal that over?"

  I looked up at the woman, who leaned away. Her earlier empathy had given way to an uneasy concern as I babied my oversized slug.

  "He's sentient."

  "I'm sure." She turned to Tandy. "So, what's the plan?"

  I could almost see Leo giving me a wide grin and two thumbs up. Fuck you, Leo. You're not even here anymore, and you're still making fun of me.

  Meredeath gave me a smile as though she knew exactly what I was thinking.

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  Richard had moved back onto my shoulder. Argin had moved to the other side of the wagon. Tandy was now arguing with the old man. And Ash was leaning dangerously out from under the wagon, about to get brained any second.

  "I think I've got a solution to our problem." Ash's voice cut across the clamoring. He'd leaned out dangerously, looking ahead in the caravan. "Do you think all six of us could fit under the shield?"

  Seven.

  "Seven." I corrected Ash for the slug pouting on my shoulder.

  "Excuse me?" He blinked.

  "You said six, but it's seven." I pointed to the slug. They all looked at me like I'd gone crazy.

  "Cole, how hard did you hit your head?" Meredeath asked, holding back a snicker. She’d been staring out at the oxen, as though communing with the dead.

  Had I missed something?

  "The slug?" I whispered as Ash started his explanation.

  "You remember the magically enhanced coach? Of course you do, it's the gray passenger wagon in the middle of the caravan for our VIP crowd. It's only four wagons up." He gave the reasoning plainly, as though it meant something. Maybe I had hit my head too hard. No one seemed to pick up what he was putting down. "You guys, it's maganical! It didn't have live oxen, used some sort of ghost oxen or something. Better yet, it was imbued to withstand physical and magical blows. If there's a place we can ride out a death tornado, it's in that carriage!"

  “Maganical?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if it was my throbbing head or Ash’s unusual worldview causing the confusion.

  “Magic and mechanical, maganical!” Ash beamed with way more enthusiasm than his wordplay warranted.

  That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Maganical sounds like a baby choking on its own spit.

  I just gave Ash a thumbs up, and patted Richard on the head.

  Ash sounded pretty confident. I did vaguely remember a fancy carriage fueled by magic. They'd had a ransom's worth of imbued fuel rods to power the thing.

  "If I remember right," I said slowly, careful not to slur any of my words. "The driver's seat was exposed. How are we going to drive the carriage, or refuel it?"

  Sounds like a major design flaw. I was with the slug on this one.

  "I'm sure we can figure something out," Ash said, waving to the discarded shield lying in the sand with a dozen aspen leaves sticking out of the top of it.

  The team huddled, trying to figure out the best way to get everyone under our makeshift shield. Ash, Meredeath, and Tandy went first, shifting the shield up and scuffling under it together in one smooth motion. The woman, Argin, helped her grandfather, Larri, across. Richard and I brought up the rear with a tired-looking Meredeath. Apparently, the team didn't think I would be helpful holding up our cover while [Concussed].

  At this point, I wasn't going to argue.

  We shuffled much slower, having to stop several times while Argin hauled up her grandfather. It was during one of these breaks that I noticed blood in the sand. Someone had been sliced and wasn't owning up to it. With the frequency of stops, I suspected who. I started digging through my bag as I waited for us to continue.

  "How much further?" Meredeath asked. I glanced back to catch her darkly staring at the back of my head, her teeth gritted and hair slicked back with sweat. She was not happy.

  "Do you want--" I'd offered a few times, but surely this time.

  "Shut up, Cole, I'm fine."

  "We're almost there," Tandy called from the front.

  "Argin, check on your grandfather and use this." I handed her a bandage, looking pointedly at the sand. Her eyes flicked down, and she gasped, oblivious of his true state.

  "Pops, are you hurt?" I winced at the concern in her voice. She cared deeply for the man.

  The old man looked at her, his face sagging under the scrutiny. Avoiding eye contact, he lifted his pant leg slowly, revealing a blood-soaked sock.

  "It's my foot," he whispered as he sank to the sand. He wasn’t going to make it. Argin opened her mouth as though to say something conciliatory, but words escaped her as the reality of the situation sunk in.

  I made a split-second decision and jumped around Ash. A Heltenic aspen leaf hit my arm, but my new [Gelatinous Absorption] skill kept the damage to a minimum. My shirt, however, had picked up a new tear.

  Argin looked at me as if I were crazy.

  "I've got [First Aid] and my slug has healing properties." Kneeling down in the tight space, I looked down at his foot. Ash scooted backwards, giving me a little more space. Larri's foot had a deep gash, as though he'd stepped right on a buried aspen leaf. I wasn't sure how he'd traveled this far. His pinky toe hung by a flap of skin, and the slice continued through the midsection of his foot.

  "Richard, are you of any help here?" I wasn't sure I could stitch the foot, and a poultice would not do much good in the short term. But we could try gluing it all back together.

  Sorry, Cole. I'm mostly useful just pulling skin together; however, my skills have worn off, and now that I'm [Concussed] too, I dare not try anything.

  Great, he really was useless.

  "Cole, can you hurry?" The strained question came from Tandy, whose shaky arms were holding up the front of our enclosure.

  Making a quick decision, I grabbed the wrap from Argin. I grabbed some of Richard's numbing slime, mixed in a little of my blood poultice and wrapped his foot as tight as possible. The barely conscious man moaned, and his granddaughter tensed, but I was quick and steady.

  "How is that going to help?" Ash asked. I stared at him long enough that he ducked his head in apology.

  Scooping a hand under Larri, my knees cracked as I lifted. He smelled of sweat, piss, and vanilla.

  "Let's go," I grunted. He was a frail, light burden, but I wasn't sure how long I'd last after moving all the boards.

  [[Warning] - The heat of your current environment has caused you to earn the state: [Heat Exhaustion]. This state will cause your stamina to drain quickly, and a deadly sleepiness to occur. Ignore this warning at your own risk. This state can only be relieved in a cooler environment. If you continue to expose yourself to heat, this will progress to [Heat Stroke].]

  My [First Aid] skill informed me I did not want to suffer [Heat Stroke].

  "Let's GO!" I yelled, the hot air scorching my gills. We needed to move. We were almost there. Two more wagons and we'd be at Ash’s maganical carriage.

  I watched my stamina bar drain and my [Heat Exhaustion] timer tick down.

  Some of us weren’t going to make it.