"Hard to say with the little ones," Bob replied. "Could be your hair, could be they know something you don't. Best not to wonder too much."
"By the way," Adom said, "how exactly do you know where to find this cave? The one from my dream?"
Bob's pace didn't falter. "I don't."
"Then how—"
"If the dryad wanted you there bad enough to make you dream walk, she'll guide us once we're in the wild. That's how it works with her kind. They don't give directions—they call you."
"That seems inefficient," Zuni commented from Adom's shoulder.
"It's not about efficiency," Bob replied. "It's about intention. The journey matters almost as much as the destination in places like this."
"Should we be concerned about who else might be listening for this... call?" Zara asked. "If it's meant for Adom, but others can hear it too..."
"That's why we're moving quickly," Bob said. "And staying off the main paths."
They continued onward, the Woods gradually growing larger on the horizon. After another half hour, Adom realized something odd about the distant tree line—it wasn't getting much closer despite their steady pace.
Before he could mention it, they came to a bridge. It was simple but well-made, spanning a narrow river whose water flowed not with the current but in careful spirals, like a giant's fingerprint pressed into liquid.
Bob stopped short, sighing deeply. "Well, this is going to be a pain in the ass."
The others exchanged glances.
"What's wrong?" Thorgen asked. "Looks like a perfectly fine bridge to me."
"It's not the bridge," Bob said. "It's who tends it."
"Is it safe to cross?" Zara asked.
"Safe? Yes. Easy? No."
They approached cautiously. As they stepped onto the worn wooden planks, the horizon seemed to waver, like heat rising from summer pavement. The bridge itself shifted, not physically but somehow perceptually, as if they were moving and standing still simultaneously.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"What's happening?" Adom asked, grabbing the railing to steady himself.
"Just the bridge doing its thing," Bob said calmly. "Keep moving. Don't look down too much."
"I sense something," Zuni whispered, his claws digging into Adom's shoulder. "A presence."
"More like smell something," Bob corrected.
As if on cue, a figure emerged from beneath the bridge.
It shuffled onto the path before them, blocking their way. Grey-skinned and no taller than Thorgen, it had a protruding belly, stubby limbs, and a face that looked like it had been carelessly assembled from leftover parts. A patchy beard covered its multiple chins, and small, surprisingly intelligent eyes peered out from beneath heavy brows.
"WER WAGT ES, MEINE BRĂśCKE ZU ĂśBERQUEREN?" the creature bellowed in a phlegmy voice.
Then it paused, blinking at them. "Oh. Outsiders." Its tone shifted to a gravelly accent with mangled vowels. "Ve do not get many of your sort zese days. Usually just local traffic, ja?"
No one seemed to know how to respond to this abrupt shift.
"Is that... a troll?" Zara whispered.
"Bridge troll," Bob confirmed. "Fae variety. Smaller than the ones in your realm. Meaner, though."
The troll squinted at Bob. "Cearbhallán? Is zat you? I vas not recognizing you at first. New coat, ja?"
"Hello, Grimble," Bob said. "Yes, new coat. How's the bridge business?"
"Same as alvays." Grimble picked at something between his teeth. "Boring like vatching mud dry, ja? Centuries of ze same routine. 'Who goes zere?' Zis one. 'Answer my riddle!' Zat one. It gets old."
Artun leaned against the railing, looking bored. "Tough break. Maybe consider a career change?"
The troll let out a wet snort. "Listen to fancy pants here. 'Career change.' Like I am some merchant who can just decide to sell different goods tomorrow, ja?"
Thorgen's hand drifted toward his axe. "Just tell us what you want so we can be on our way."
"Oh ho!" Grimble's eyes lit up. "Ze dwarf wants to fight, does he? I vould not recommend it, shortstack. Zis bridge vas given to me by ze High King himself. Harm me, and it's war with ze entire realm."
"No one's fighting anyone," Bob said firmly. "Just ask your riddles, Grimble, so we can get going."
The troll scratched his belly thoughtfully, his grimy shirt riding up to reveal more grey skin. Zuni made a small sound of disgust.
"Ze thing is," Grimble said slowly, "I do not much feel like riddles today."
"Excuse me?" Bob blinked.
"See, I have been doing ze same three riddles for seven hundred and forty-two years. I know all ze answers myself, don't I? Vhere's ze fun in zat?" He leaned forward, his breath a noxious cloud that made Adom step back. "Last interesting traveler vas zat fellow with ze pumpkin for a head. Now zere vas a challenge! Had to make up new riddles on ze spot."
"What do you want then?" Thorgen asked bluntly. "A fight after all?"
Grimble waved a dismissive hand. "Nah. Too much paperwork if I kill ya. Forms in triplicate for non-fae fatalities."
"Then what?" Zara asked.
The troll's face screwed up in concentration, as if he were making the most important decision of his long life. Finally, his expression cleared.
"I vant a joke," he declared. "A good one. Make me laugh—really laugh, mind you—and you can pass. Been seven decades since I had a proper chuckle."
They all stared at him.
"A joke?" Adom repeated.
"Zat's right." Grimble folded his stubby arms across his protruding belly. "One joke. Needs to be funny enough to make me laugh. You get one try each." He settled back on his haunches, expression expectant. "Vell? I am vaiting."
They all exchanged glances. No one seemed particularly eager to volunteer.
A flicker of something—possibly amusement—crossed Grimble's face, but quickly disappeared.
"Close," he said. "But not close enough."
"I told it wrong," Artun muttered. "Should've made the parrot a crow."
Bob shook his head. "Don't look at me. My people's humor doesn't translate well. Involves a lot of context about stolen shoes."
All eyes turned to Adom.
"I'm not good at jokes," he said.
"Try anyway," Bob urged. "Or we're stuck here."
Adom racked his brain. He didn't exactly have a repertoire of comedy bits ready to go. What would make a bridge troll laugh? Something about bridges? Travelers? The absurdity of existence?
"Okay," he said finally. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"To get to ze other side," Grimble finished, looking bored. "Oldest joke in any realm."
"No, that's not it," Adom said, pushing forward desperately. "The chicken crossed the road because... because it was stapled to the... wait, no."
"You're thinking of the one with the baby," Artun stage-whispered.
"Right. No. Um." Adom took a deep breath. "A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is smoking a pipe with a satisfied smile, and the egg looks irritated. The egg says, 'Well, I guess we answered that question.'"
Grimble frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead creating deep shadowed valleys. For a moment, Adom thought he might have succeeded—then the troll's expression cleared.
"I don't understand," he said. "Chickens and eggs don't smoke. Zey don't have hands."
"It's about the question of which came first," Adom tried to explain. "The chicken or the egg. It's implying they just had—"
"NEXT!" Grimble roared. "Or are you all out of jokes already?"
Rude.
"I believe it's my turn," Zuni said from Adom's shoulder.
The quillick's voice was so quiet that Grimble had to lean forward, squinting to see the small creature.
"Vat is zis? A talking squirrel?"
"I am a quillick," Zuni replied with dignity. "A sentient mammalian species from the other realm."
"You're mighty small to be telling jokes," Grimble said doubtfully.
"Size bears no correlation to humor, as I'm sure you're aware." Zuni cleared his throat delicately. "My joke is brief but, I hope, insightful."
Grimble settled back, waving a chubby hand. "Get on with it zen."
Zuni straightened up on Adom's shoulder. "What lies between fear and courage?"
"I don't know," Grimble replied, already looking disappointed. "Vat?"
"The letter 'and,'" Zuni answered.
For a moment, there was complete silence. Grimble's face remained utterly blank.
Then his lips twitched. A small snort escaped him.
"Ze letter 'and,'" he repeated. "Because... because fear AND courage..."
The troll's shoulders began to shake. A wheezing sound emerged from his throat. Suddenly, he was doubled over, great belly heaving with laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHA! ZE LETTER 'AND'!" he howled, slapping his knee with enough force to make the bridge tremble. "It's BETWEEN zem in ze sentence! HAHAHA! AND! A literal truth disguised as philosophical wisdom! HAHAHAHA!"
Tears streamed down Grimble's face as he gasped for breath between guffaws. "Oh, zat is good! ZAT IS SO GOOD! Ze letter 'and'! HA!"
The others looked at each other in disbelief. Zuni sat calmly on Adom's shoulder, radiating quiet satisfaction.
"I fail to see how that's the funniest thing he's heard in seventy years," Thorgen muttered.
"Humor is subjective," Zuni replied quietly.
"OHHHH!" Grimble wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "I haven't laughed like zat since... since I can't remember when!" He pointed a stubby finger at Zuni. "You win, little squirrel. You all may pass my bridge."
"I am not a squirrel," Zuni corrected, but his protest was lost as Grimble stepped aside with a grand, sweeping gesture.
"Cross freely, travelers! May your journey be as clever as ze little one's joke!"
They didn't need to be told twice. The group hurried across the bridge, casting occasional glances back at the troll, who was still giggling to himself, muttering "ze letter 'and'" and breaking into fresh peals of laughter.
Once safely across and out of earshot, Artun turned to Zuni. "Seriously? That was your joke?"
"It was both linguistically accurate and philosophically resonant," Zuni replied. "A satisfying verbal paradox."
"It wasn't even funny," Thorgen grumbled.
"It made him laugh," Bob pointed out. "That's all that matters."
"And got us across," Adom added, smiling at his small companion. "Nice work, Zuni."
"Thank you, Law." The quillick's smiled at him.
Behind them, they could still hear Grimble's laughter echoing across the river. "ZE LETTER 'AND'! HAHAHAHA!"
"Alright." He closed his eyes.
Nothing happened. He felt silly standing there, eyes closed while everyone watched. He could hear Thorgen shifting his weight impatiently.
"I don't think this is—"
A breeze brushed against his face. Not from any particular direction, but somehow from everywhere at once. It carried whispers—soft, half-formed words that danced at the edge of comprehension.
"This is creepy," he said, eyes still closed.
"What do you hear?" Bob asked.
"Whispers. I can't make out what they're saying."
The whispers grew louder, still unintelligible but more insistent. Then, behind his closed eyelids, Adom saw something—a path winding through the trees, illuminated by a soft green glow.
His eyes snapped open. "That way." He pointed northeast, where the forest looked darkest. "Through those two twisted oaks with the intertwined branches."
Bob nodded. "Let's move. And stay close. The Woods aren't kind to stragglers."
They set off, Adom in the lead with Bob close behind. The path wasn't visible to the naked eye, but Adom could feel it—a subtle pull guiding his steps. It was hard to properly explain.
"Anyone else think these trees are watching us?" Artun asked, glancing around.
"Because they are," Bob replied.
"That's reassuring," Zara muttered.
"Do you think the dryad will be pleased to see us?" Zuni asked from Adom's shoulder. "I understand that they can be temperamental."
"She went to a lot of trouble to get us here," Adom replied. "It better be worth the sleepless nights."
They walked for nearly an hour, the forest growing denser and darker. Strange sounds echoed around them—chirps and wails unlike any animal Adom had heard before. Luminescent fungi clung to the trees, providing just enough light to see by.
"This place reminds me of the Whispering Glades back home," Zara said. "My brothers and I used to dare each other to spend the night there."
"Did you?" Adom asked.
She laughed. "Stars, no. We were stupid, but not that stupid."
"I spent three weeks in the Dark Forest of Karnor once," Artun chimed in. "Tracking a bandit who'd stolen the Duke's favorite horse."
"Did you catch him?" Thorgen asked.
"Her, actually. And yes, but—"
High-pitched laughter interrupted him—childlike but wrong somehow, too sharp and too cold. It seemed to come from all around them.
Everyone froze.
In an instant, weapons appeared—Artun's twin swords, Thorgen's massive axe, Zara's compact crossbow. Adom slid WAM and BAM onto his hands.
"What is that?" he whispered.
"Redcaps," Bob replied, drawing a short curved blade from beneath his coat. "Pack hunters, like goblins but nastier. Don't let them surround you."
"Redcaps?" Zara asked, scanning the trees.
"They dip their caps in the blood of their victims," Bob explained. "Gives them power. They're vicious little bastards."
More laughter, closer now.
"Form up," Bob ordered. "Back to back. Whatever happens, don't separate."
They moved into a tight circle, weapons facing outward. Adom felt the familiar tingle of his mana activating, the flame like energy flowing just beneath his skin.
"How many?" Thorgen asked.
"Hard to tell," Bob replied. "Dozen at least. Maybe more."
A whistling sound cut through the air. Artun ducked, an arrow embedding itself in the tree behind him.
"Arrows too? That's just not fair," he complained.
Red eyes appeared in the darkness between the trees—dozens of pairs, blinking and shifting positions.
"Let them come to us," Bob advised. "Don't chase them into the woods."
A small, hunched figure darted between trees, too quick to target. Then another. And another.
"Steady," Bob said.
Something flew from the darkness—a crude spear that Thorgen easily deflected with his axe.
"Is that the best they've got?" the dwarf growled.
As if in answer, a redcap leapt from the shadows, a twisted little creature no taller than Thorgen but lean and vicious. Its skin was a sickly gray, with sharp teeth and malevolent eyes. And atop its head, a cap stained dark with what looked like blood.
Zara's crossbow twanged. The bolt caught the redcap in mid-leap, punching through its chest. It fell to the ground with a shriek.
"One down," she said, already reloading.
Howls. Howls of rage erupted in the forest. Redcaps poured from the darkness, brandishing crude weapons—knives, clubs, rusted axes.
"Here they come!" Bob shouted.
Adom focused his mana, channeling it through WAM. A miniature hurricane formed above his palm, spinning.
He sent it hurtling toward a group of redcaps charging from the left. The vortex caught three of them, lifting them off their feet and smashing them against a tree trunk.
Beside him, Thorgen roared as he cleaved through anything that came within reach. Artun danced between attackers, only blood followed his wake and Zara's crossbow had a steady rhythm—aim, fire, reload.
"Good shot!" Zuni called as Adom blasted another redcap with a fireball. "Look out! Behind that fallen log!"
Adom spun, catching a leaping redcap with a gravity spell that slammed it to the ground with bone-crushing force.
Something changed. The mana flowing through him—normally a cool blue energy—began to shift. It felt... different. Lighter. More responsive. His awareness expanded, taking in the battlefield in a new way. He could feel the redcaps' movements before they happened, sense the flow of combat like currents in a stream.
"Behind you, Artun!" he called, already launching a spell to intercept a redcap dropping from a branch above the swordsman.
He wasn't thinking anymore—just acting. Spell after spell flowed from his hands. A wall of force to protect Zara as she reloaded. A burst of wind that cleared the path to Bob's right. A targeted gravity well that pulled three redcaps into the swing of Thorgen's axe.
"They're retreating!" Zara called.
She was right. The redcaps were falling back, disappearing into the forest as quickly as they had appeared. A few moments later, the Woods were silent again, save for the heavy breathing of the party.
"Everyone all right?" Bob asked, scanning the trees for stragglers.
"Not even a scratch," Artun replied, wiping his blades clean.
"They didn't put up much of a fight," Thorgen said, sounding almost disappointed.
"That's because Adom here turned half of them to ash," Zara said, turning to look at him. Her eyes widened. "Adom?"
The others turned to stare.
"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Your mana," Bob said quietly. "Look at yourself."
Adom glanced down at his arms. The familiar blue energy that typically surrounded him when weaving had changed. It was nearly transparent now, with a white, pearlescent quality that seemed to bend light around it.
"Whoa. What's happening?" he asked, alarmed.
"I've never seen anything like it," Zara said, moving closer to inspect the phenomenon.
The energy pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady glow around him. A message flashed before his eyes, floating in the air like a phantom:
[Change detected. Your body is evolving...]