Ding!

"Ow—the hell?!" a burly man shouted, dropping the flask he had just touched to his lips.

"That's yer alcohol flask, not yer water skin, Sherman. Don't think I ain't watchin'. We don't stop 'til nightfall, and I sure as shit ain't gonna carry yer drunk ass across the savannah," Ravina said, shaking the sting out of the hand she'd just used to slap the man's helmet.

It was evening in the Jizran Savannah, and the sky was aglow with brilliant shades of red and orange, dyeing the otherwise dull grass in color. The sight was calming, which Ravina was grateful for—it was a nice contrast to the complete anarchy and chaos of a mobile band of adventurers.

She was grateful to the lot of them, but gods damn if she didn't also want to strangle each and every one of them.

They were on foot now, having made it as far as the barges could carry them. The Waters of Life thinned out into a small creek the farther one traveled into the Savannah, so navigating on foot was inevitable. That said, Ravina had wondered several times if starting on foot from the instant they exited the swamp surrounding Tûrathiin wouldn't have been faster.

The barges were wonderful, and after a year of piloting them in the marsh, most of the adventurers were well-equipped to navigate even the ever-narrowing river. However, as the routine of travel set in, many became enamored with the favors the elves had sent with them.

Grateful to the adventurers for coming to their aid, the Jadhariin had made sure all their provisions were stocked before they left—including the alcohol.

Adventurers were a predictable bunch and also easily influenced by each other. Once one or two started drinking, it was pretty much over. Ravina shuddered thinking about all the time they'd lost ungrounding barges that strayed too close to either side of the river. She thought they must be doing it on purpose—many times, a barge would run aground immediately after she warned of the approaching shallows.

Ironically, Ravina was relieved when it came time to dismount the barges and walk.

She also thought "Waters of Life" was a rather…ambitious name for what was, to her eyes, an overblown creek. The name probably had more to do with how dry the Savannah was than how wet the river was, but still.

Much to her disappointment, the drinking hadn't stopped just because they started walking, but at least she only needed to herd the group in the generally-correct direction. She'd largely given up on policing the drinking at this point, only putting forth a token effort, which just happened to coincide with times she needed a little stress relief—that was pure coincidence, of course.

Ravina returned to reality, shaken out of her musings by the sight of Gala standing atop a small hill. She approached from the side and saw an uncharacteristically serious expression on Gala's face.

"Somethin' wrong?" she asked, standing next to Gala and attempting to spy what she was looking at.

"...We should make camp here. Do not continue—do not move during the night," Gala said ominously, never taking her eyes off the horizon.

"We can do that. Any particular reason?" Ravina questioned, glancing at Gala out of the side of her eye.

"Things in this area are…restless. Something—or perhaps several things—is disturbing them. It would be wise to make sure we are not one of those things. Staying stationary during the night, when visibility is limited, is a simple risk calculation. The risk of running into disturbed animals is higher while we move," she explained, still staring off into the distance.

"What exactly should we be on the lookout for? What would 'disturbed' animals look like?" Ravina asked in confusion.

"You will know if you see it. Just watch out for creatures in the region acting strangely," Gala said, falling silent in a way that informed Ravina that she didn't intend to say more.

"...sure," Ravina replied, moving away to start setting up camp. She was going to have to make extra sure the drinking was minimized tonight.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ravina shot up in her tent, throwing off the blanket and gripping her sheathed sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

She looked around, using all her senses—as groggy as they were—to figure out what had woken her. It took a few seconds of concentration, as the answer was not obvious. It wasn't until she closed her eyes, realizing that the dark tent interior wasn't giving her any clues, that she felt it: the vibrations.

She stood, quickly buckling her sword to her belt, and opened the flap of her tent just as a clamor started outside. Poking her head out, she saw that the source was Gala. She stood by the central campfire, in front of a pair of astounded night watchmen, banging pots together. The noise was loud enough that Ravina felt the entire camp beginning to stir.

"Stampede!" she called, her voice somehow carrying over the cacophony of the banging pans.

The vibrations were becoming stronger, enough that the skins and cloth of tents were beginning to shake with the rhythm. More and more adventurers were coming out, and even more were waking up from the noise, but things were moving too slowly.

Ravina ran over to Gala, who stopped the crashing pans as she approached.

"What are they?!" she shouted, her adrenaline rising.

"Reckless Chargers and their sires. There will be one or two Chargers for every four or five cows, and they will be especially violent in defense of the herd and calves," Gala explained without missing a beat. She pointed behind Ravina, indicating the direction they'd be coming from.

"Fuck! Form up! Tanks to the east side of camp! Casters—use yer most frightening magic! We've got a pack of bulls charging us! Throw fire, ice—whatever you've got—around the camp! Give 'em plenty of reasons to go around instead of charging through! Come on, move!" Ravina yelled as she ran toward the east side of camp.

There were a few tanks there already, shields in hand, but the camp had been caught completely unprepared. They had defensive spells and perimeters built—of course they did—but those weren't set up to hold off an entire pack of maddened, charging animals.

Ravina planted her feet and drew her sword. More and more shields hit the ground behind her, and she saw the flare of magic from around the camp. Adventurers were generally quick to rouse, owing to lives spent out in the wilderness, but this lot wasn't used to that lifestyle. Even a year in the marsh hadn't completely worked calluses onto those soft hands used to nothing more than trimming the cave crawler population.

Too slow, she thought.

Ravina didn't have the greatest night vision, but even she could see the huge cloud of dust billowing up to the east. It couldn't be more than a journey away, and as the seconds ticked by, she began seeing lights in front of the cloud. It took her a while to realize it was the campfire and spell-light reflecting off the animals' eyes—they were close enough for her to see their damn eyes.

She was going to have to do something dramatic.

"Casters! Time your spells with me!" she screamed before taking a deep breath.

She cycled the mana in her body, churning and spinning as much of it as she dared before funneling it into her sword. Faust lit up with a deep pink color, bathing the whole camp in a glow similar to the evening sun she'd been admiring just hours ago.

"Now!" she shouted, leaping forward and sending an overhead strike all the way into the ground.

A huge wave of pink blasted out of her sword, carving a trench into the ground as it traveled. It split the cloud of dust in two, dispersing it like blowing out a candle, and the ground split along that line. A chasm formed, dividing the charging herd roughly in half and separating the halves from each other.

At the same time, spells went off around the perimeter of the camp. Fire circled the tents, sharp spears of ice and spires of rock blasted out of the ground, and there were even more obscure spells like light and water being used.

The charging horde split, each half going around the camp like a river diverting around a rock. The idea seemed to have worked, but one enormous bull came sauntering over, stopping just ten strides from Ravina, as if to mock her plan.

It was by far the largest Charger she'd ever seen, standing so tall that even the base of its neck rose above her. It had two horns that spiraled off to each side of its head before curling back toward its tail, and its yellow eyes glowed in the light of the spells.

It stared Ravina straight in the eyes, snorting and pawing at the ground in front of it.

"I got no problem with you, big guy, so don't make me do it," she said calmly.

The bull snorted again and lowered its head as if to charge, but it suddenly raised it again, looking to Ravina's side with wide eyes. Gala stood next to Ravina, staring at the bull with an imperious look—like a ruler observing her subject. The bull stamped the ground a couple of times before turning aside to follow the pack around the camp.

"What the fuck has them riled up?" Ravina asked, only half joking.

"I do not know, but you have noted the direction they came from, yes?" Gala replied, staring into the distance.

"Aye, the east—where we're headed," Ravina sighed.

She could never have a peaceful journey. There was always something.

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