“So we have defeated the evil wizard after fighting out way through the bugbears, trolls, orcs, and rabid sheep, thus freeing these human children from the evil spell that was draining their souls in order to open a demon gate.  I guess we’re done, then.”  Fenris the dwarf finished tying off his bandage and gulped down a healing tonic, throwing down the glass vial to smash next to some part of a bugbear that could not be readily identified.

“Not so fast,” Kursiff the monk said as Fenris turned to leave.  “What about the little ones?  We have to get them back to their village.”

There were six- two babies and four walkers, blocked off in the corner of the wizard’s rooms, huddled together and whimpering.  Kursiff was aware of their eyes following him and his fellow adventurers as they moved around the wizard’s rooms. looting.

“Oh, aye, I’m sure that you can handle that yerself,” Fenris said as he stuffed jewelry and coins into a sack.  “Or mayhap our wizard here?”

“Me?” asked Podha with a squeak in his voice.  The elf put down the book he was hefting.  “No, no no, that is far beneath the dignity of a-”

“You still here?” boomed a big voice.  Rollin the warrior poked his head in from the hallway. “Let’s shake a shank.  I hear that there’s trouble in the foothills.”

“What about the wee ones?” Kursiff asked, pulling his dagger out of the sorcerer’s skull.

“Pixies?”  Rollin looked around wildly, drawing his sword.

“No, you dolt!” Kursiff straightened and pointed to the children barricaded behind a makeshift corral made out of spears and chairs.  “The villager’s children, the ones the wizard stole.”

“Can’t we just let them scamper home on their own? We pretty much cleared the area of monsters.”  Rollin pulled the chairs out of the way, gesturing like a goose girl, shooing the children. They cried.

Kursiff rubbed his forehead.  “I’m not going to give you a lecture on honor right now.  Just take my word for it, babies don’t scamper well.”

“Let’s draw straws or summat?  No sense all of us having to deal with the stinkers,” Fenris said, picking up a baby at arms length.  It cried even louder. He put it down again.

“No!  I don’t want to be stuck with them on my own!” Podha said, holding out his staff as if to hold them off.

Kursiff saw a strange expression cross Rollin’s face.

“You fellows can handle it fine, I’m sure.  Fenris, make sure I get a cut of that booty!  I’ll leave you in charge, Kursiff!  The people need me!”  Rollin bowed quickly in farewell.  He sheathed his sword with a ringing sound, making for the door as if the people he wanted to rescue were on the other side, as opposed to a week’s ride away.  He took off down the passageway, his boots ringing down the stone corridor and fading into the distance.

“Coward,” said Fenris.  Podha looked shocked.  “Oy, come now, you was both thinking it!”

Kursiff sighed.  Rollin couldn’t sit still.  It was almost a sickness.  The only chores they could get the warrior to do involved chopping wood and fetching water.  It had cost them many times when stealth was a much better answer than bashing down a door.  Still, this latest failing stung.  He sat down on a rug, one of the few unstained by blood, to meditate and discipline his thoughts.  It was almost as noisy as market day, but shutting out distraction was part of his monk training.  The wizard had fine rooms deep within his dungeon labyrinth.  The walls were lined with mahogany shelves loaded with magic books, treasures and intriguing knickknacks.  Wood inlaid tables were laid out with magic supplies.  In a separate chamber, the wizard’s four poster bed was carved with fish and beasts, draped in thick velvets.  Maybe Kartor had used a transport spell to get all this down here.  Kursiff wished they had something like that.

Podha was determining how many books he could carry, making piles of tomes by their size and desirability.  He filled his pack, dumping out most of his supplies. He fingered the ones being left behind, then started flipping through them and taking notes.

Fenris finished looting and quelled some of the noise by handing the children the food he had found in the cupboard, bread, dried fruit and a bladder of goats milk.  In the quiet that followed he laid out the plunder on the stone floor, unconsciously copying Podha by making piles and writing notes.  From his scowl and grumbling, Kursiff decided it was not enough to pay off his debts.

Kursiff got up, dusting off his robes and slinging on his pack.  It looked like it was up to him to lead.  Podha was impractical, and young Fenris cared more for plunder.  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

After a brief experiment where Fenris tried to let the toddlers do without diapers, they stopped almost every half-hour.

“Works with puppies,” Fenris muttered for the fifth time.

“Shut it, will ye?” Podha said.  He was carrying his robes tied to the end of his staff, as far off his shoulder as could be comfortably held.  He had a baby slung to him with a blanket and wore his knee-length breeches under that.  His knapsack bulged with books and his normally alabaster face was flushed pink.

Kursiff carried the other baby, the wriggly one, and was giving shoulder rides in rotation to the other little ones.  The little girl on his back was tugging on his ponytail as if she was guiding him with it.  He had also stripped down his outer robes- spit-up in his case.  His spare tunic was now a baby sling.  He knew a little about baby care from taking care of his fellow orphans growing up.  At the monastery, though, there were always more adults than children.

The little ones were whining, a wordless, soul-draining sound that sucked the life out of its victims. Kursiff had heard less disturbing noises in lich tombs. He knew how to stop the undead.  Toddlers?  No idea.

He  looked down the corridor.  Here was where they had defeated the goblins.  It had only taken moments to transverse it last time, even hampered by the ambush.  These tunnels went on for miles in all directions, cut hallways mixing with natural limestone caves.  The sorcerer had not made them, but merely had been one of a long line of residents, going back into ancient times, each building new traps, bringing in new monsters and twisted magic.  If Kursiff had been alone, he would have mapped the area for his monastery, so that other monks could come in and make this place safe for all time.  Some other day.  Now he wanted the quickest way out.  Avoiding the sinking room and the death door, heading for the chamber of pools.  Now was it right or left at this intersection?

“I remember something!” Fenris said, running off down a side corridor, his packs jingling and clacking.  The group stopped, staring after him.

“What are the odds we’ll never see him again?” asked Podha, stopping the oldest boy from following.

“Hmmph,” said Kursiff, avoiding a baby fist headed for his mouth.  He did a quick head-count.  Four on the ground, two in hand.  The littlest of the walkers could not possibly go much further- it looked like the little fellow had just learned how to walk in the past month.  He was currently stuffing a rock into his mouth.  The baby in the sling got a grip of Kursiff’s lip as he was stopping the older child from gnawing on a rock.

“Why did the little man go?” asked the oldest boy.

“He’s not a man, he’s a dwarf,” said Podha, gripping the boy’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“That’s the race he is.”  Podha took a deep breath, adjusting his pack.  Kursiff had seen him take out a few tomes, unable to carry it all.  That must have been hard to choose- a book or a baby.

“Why?”  the boy asked in the same tone of voice.

” I need to send money to my mother,” Podha said, looking at the boy with fascinated horror.  Kursiff snorted.  An elven childhood can last fifty years or more.

Just when they were about to give up and move on, Fenris returned with a two-wheeled cart, one probably used for hauling rock to make tunnels.  It was wobbly to say the least.

“Saw this on our way in and thought we might carry our booty in it.” Fenris said, sighing. “Might help.”

They piled the four walkers in the contraption.  The older girl tumbled out again immediately for lack of space and balance, squealing and crying. Fenris held the cart upright while Podha strategized placement and Kursiff kept the oldest from trying to push it himself. It took a while before they started moving.  The good thing was that they could pile their gear into the cart too.  The bad thing was that it took two to maneuver, leaving only one to watch out for dangers.

Kursiff tried to control his temper when he realized that Fenris had taken a wrong turn.  His teachings told him that rage was a weapon that fought itself.  He did make the dwarf change all the diapers.  They were running low on cloths and everything they owned was saturated with diaper stench.  The children now had names.  The babies were Wriggler and Stinker.  Then there was Barelywalking, Girly, Bird and Whyboy (who actually said his name was Colin).

He sat in the hallway, meditating, trying to get a sense of direction.  One of the toddlers, Barelywalking, climbed into his lap and started playing with his medallion.   His little foot jammed Kursiff’s groin painfully.  Kursiff grabbed the boys hand, barely stopping himself from violently throwing the child away from him.  He looked at the little face next to his own, to the tiny fist in his huge calloused hand.  A divine lesson hit him like a rock to the head.  To the gods, we were like children.  Smelly, annoying, impossible to talk to and hard to control, but endearing, inducing a need to protect and nurture.  Barelywalking smiled, trying to put the necklace in his mouth.

“Urkelbut” he said with a definite nod.

Kursiff sent up a silent apology to the heavens.  He caught Wriggler, who had been crawling off while Fenris was struggling with Stinker’s diaper fastening.

“Secret door!” Podha said, pointing to a section of rock wall that looked the same as the rest of the wall.

“How do you do that?” Kursiff asked, staring at the wall without seeing anything.

“Elves have heightened senses,” Podha said smugly as he walked through the illusion and disappeared.

“He felt a draft,” Fenris said, touching the side of his nose with a wink.  They moved into the secret corridor, since it seemed to go in the right direction.  It was hard to shove the cart through the doorway, since they couldn’t see the door-frame. Fenris lost some skin off one of his fingers.

After an hours walk, they took another break.

Podha was flipping through a magic book while Girly and Whyboy played with rocks.  Kursiff started the process of getting the toddlers back on the cart.  Fenris handed Stinker to Podha.  The elf hardly looked up, sticking his finger in the baby’s mouth to shush it while he kept reading.

Kursiff looked around, feeling uneasy.  He was uncertain that they were going the right way on this unexplored corridor. Any one of the offshoots could hold a pocket of monsters.  He looked over the group.  Two in the hand, and three in the cart.  Three?

“Where’s Bird?” he asked.

Podha’s head snapped up, and they all looked around frantically.  This hallway was narrow, barely wide enough for the cart.  There was a corner up ahead, stopping them from seeing far.  Kursiff lit a candle, searching for crevices in the shadows.

There was a sharp squeal. Kursiff and Fenris ran forward while Podha caught the cart handles.  They rounded the corner to find Bird on the drop-door of a pit trap, her small weight not fully triggering it.  She sat still, looking too afraid to move.

Kursiff thought frantically, discarding a plan to crawl out after her.  She had to climb up the slanted trap door.  He searched his waist pouch, looking for something enticing, a rock, something shiny…honey drops, perfect!

“Look Bird, candy!” he said, waving it.  She looked interested, but didn’t move.  He held his arm out with it and she shrank back.  The door slid a little further down. Now they could see the rusted iron spikes with impaled skeletons.

“C’mon, Birdy bird! Come to Fenris!” Fenris cajoled.

They called her Bird because she was tiny and made sweet little chirping noises to herself as she played.  Maybe music was the answer?

“Sing!  That will calm her,” Kursiff said, shaking Fenris.  “I know you can sing!”

“That can be sung in front of babes?”  Fenris said, tugging his beard. “Oh, the troll and the wizard!”

“The Troll went out to town-” they started singing, as they had so many times over a campfire.

“What’s going on over there?” called out Podha.

“Meddlin’ with a Wizard’s not the smartest thing,” they crooned,  “for they’s quick to hit with magic sting…”

Bird giggled, running forward to Fenris.  The floor gave way.  She leaped, grabbing him by the beard and dangling over the pit.

“Ow!”  Fenris swung her to safety.

“Gan!  Again!” Bird said, clapping her hands.  Kursiff gathered her up in his arms, trying to steady his heart.  What if the cart had gone over that?

The kids were back out of the cart when they returned.  Whyboy was trying to keep them contained.  Podha looked up from his book with a look of rapture.  He spoke a few words and gestured.  The children started floating one by one. Whyboy shook his head, holding on to Kursiff’s leg.  The babies turned in the air, cooing, while the toddlers giggled with delight.

“Brilliant!” said Fenris, connecting the kids with a light rope.

Kursiff frowned.  What happens when the spell wears out?  Podha was pulling his long black hair back into order, looking smug.  He decided not to ask.

Before the spell could have time to fade, however, they were dealing with other problems.  They left the cart behind with no regrets.  With the children in the air, they had transversed the pit easily, edging along the lip on one side.  The secret corridor had let out onto familiar territory.  They knew they had been there before.  There were corpses.

In the chamber of pools, the one where they had found that amulet and narrowly avoided the animated sword, a kobold rushed them.  Kursiff dispatched it with a single blow of his quarterstaff.  The creature had been single-mindedly jumping for the floating babies.  Kobolds usually weren’t that suicidal. As they went back over the way they had come in, stray creatures, ones that flown from them on the way in, attacked.  They seemed heedless of the danger of the three adventurers.  The children grew frightened, screaming at every large rat and determined kobold.  Kursiff was glad he had his hands free.  Podha pulled the children on the rope while Fenris took front-point and Kursiff guarded their back.  He was covered with scratches and bites.

They reached the hall of minotaurs.  “Wasn’t this hall much shorter than this?” Fenris asked, climbing a minotaur corpse to cut down a stray goblin.

“That’s because you were running full on, waving your ax and yelling something about a forge,”  Podha said, ducking gore. “What had Rollin been yelling?”

Fenris looked at the children.  “Can’t repeat it now.”

The hall had been part of an ancient temple at one time, with fine marble columns and statues now crumbling and losing limbs.  At the end of the hallway was were they had entered the labyrinth, the stairs.  Kursiff could see daylight glowing through the doorway.

“Monky?” asked Whyboy.  Whyboy had come up with names for all of them, as they had named the babies.  Kursiff winced at “Monky”, but he supposed it was better than “Darf” or “Ears”.  The boy walked while the others floated, but he had been demanding to be carried.  He also had the annoying habit of waiting until he had a person’s complete attention before talking.

“Monky?” he said again.  Fenris rolled his eyes and Podha nudged Kursiff.

“Yes?” Kursiff said.  He remembered his first master at the monastery had avoided questions by saying “you already have the answers” and other deep, meaningless tripe like that.

“Why can’t we go home?  I want dinner!  I want Mommy!”

“We are going home,” Kursiff said as soothingly as he could.

“Why-” started the boy.

“Shut it!” said Fenris at the same time that Podha said “just because!”

“Why are monsters following us?” he asked, undeterred.

Kursiff looked around. They had cleared the room of monsters. Oops.  He could see a horde of lesser creatures, creatures that normally would not stand to be next to each other, advancing through a side door in the temple, edging around the far radius of Podha’s light.  Snarls and screeches echoed through the hallway.  Podha started moving, Fenris and Kursiff guarding.  The creatures continued to follow, just out of reach of Fenris’s swing and Kursiff’s blows.  They cringed and scuttled, but kept coming.  This was not natural.  Fenris pulled out a light crossbow from his pack and dispatched a few.

They climbed the stair of doom. Daylight scorched some of their followers. At the top of the stair there was no time to celebrate leaving the labyrinth, for a small pack of hobgoblins attacked, going straight for the little ones as if the three adults were not there.

Kursiff reacted first, freeing his quarterstaff and knocking a leaping hobgoblin to the rocky ground.  Fenris dropped the crossbow and planted his ax in the chest of the nearest creature.  The children screamed when a third hobgoblin grabbed Girly’s ankle and tried to drag her down. Podha shouted, a ball of fire issuing from his hands, engulfing the creature and incinerating it instantly.  Kursiff was relieved- the last creature to be fireballed had lingered disturbingly, which would have upset the children.  He rammed his dagger through the heart of the one on the ground, while Fenris kicked his victim to make sure it was dead.

They went a short distance to a clearing and set up camp. Podha discharged his floating spell and looked over the children for injuries.  He then went back to flipping through his new books, leaving Kursiff and Fenris to take care of the children.

“When I see Rollin again I’m going to pop him one,” said Fenris, offering a flask to Wriggler.

“Yeah.  But really, this should have been a simple deal, except for the diapers,” Fenris said.  He was using leaves and moss to wipe away the worst of Stinker’s offenses.

“Aha!” Podha said, gesturing with the book he was reading.

“What?” asked Kursiff.

“We thought that the wizard Kartor was trying to reach the demon dimensions.  According to these notes, he was not!”?    “So what was he doing, mixing a drink?” asked Fenris.

“No, he was trying to reach the higher planes.  He used the children’s innocence- they are still connected into the spell, still leaking magic.  It’s as if the monsters were smelling it like, like….”

“Perfume?”  Fenris offered.

“Fresh blood, I was going to say.”  Podha pulled out all the books and laid them out in front of himself, muttering.

The summer twilight faded into night.  Babies cried. Bird tried to wander away.  Barelywalking gnawed on things.  Girly demanded a horsey ride. Whyboy burned his hand trying to adjust the fire.

Stinker settled down when he was put in a sling around Fenris.  The dwarf attempted to put him down several times, but every time the baby would wake and cry. He gave up and went on patrol with the baby.  Wriggler, after a tremendous belch, fell asleep.  The other children were wide awake.  They hadn’t walked or fought all day, and the forest was dark and frightening.  Podha was trying to find a way to dispel the magic lingering on them, while Whyboy pestered him with “Did it work yet?”  and “can I go home now?”

Kursiff settled the little ones in a nest of blankets and spare clothes and began telling tales.  He told some of the wisdom tales of the monastery that he remembered hearing when he was little.  He told how he met Fenris in the mountains of Hand, and about the time when Podha had fallen in love with a wood-elf maid who turned out to be a were-cat.  Their eyes were still open.

Podha nudged him.  “You’re too interesting,” he whispered.

Kursiff thought back to lectures of a particularly dry teacher he had.  He took a breath.

“The nature of good and evil in regards to the conduct of monks depends primarily on their alignment and intentions, but also on the motivation for their actions…” Kursiff said, launching into a summary of the doctrine of Esno.  They were out in a few minutes.

Kursiff hadn’t felt like this since his vigil to become a monk, where he had to kneel on a stone altar all night.  It seemed like every time Bird disappeared or Girly screamed, his heart raced and his nerves twitched in a fear he had never felt for himself.  He tucked his blanket more snugly around Barelywalking.  He was commanded by his master to wander the world and seek wisdom to bring back to the monastery.  Was this a divine sign?  Was he supposed to quit his brotherhood and become a father?  He remembered  Celena, who had loved him so deeply when he was an acolyte, though he never encouraged her.  What if he had? Would he have a little baby of his own?  He didn’t know how to be a father. His earliest memories were of the monastery.  The brothers had done their best, but basically he had raised himself with the help of his fellow orphans.

He heard a scuffle in the darkness.  He got up to investigate, lantern in one hand and quarterstaff in the other.

“Hey, all clear,” Fenris’s voice came from the darkness.  Kursiff came closer to see several dead ghouls splayed in the undergrowth.  Stinker slept peacefully on Fenris’s armored chest.

“Wake me for my watch,” Kursiff said, and went back to settle next to the pile of little ones.

He dreamed, memories of his mother surfacing.  He tried to hold on to them, to how it felt to be carried, how her voice sounded, that utter feeling of safety and peace, but it slipped away.

Fenris woke him for his watch.  He walked the perimeter of the camp, startled by the amount of creatures Fenris had dispatched, and unsettled by the  eyes he saw glittering in the underbrush everywhere he walked.

Dawn came and he went back to rest.  Podha was awake, stirring the fire.  Fenris snored, Stinker still snug on his chest.  He lay down, indicating to Podha that it was his turn to watch.  He started to doze and then awoke with a jerk, feeling something was wrong.  Podha was stirring the soup, his back to Kursiff.  The children were all there.  Then he heard what had disturbed him.  The clink of glass.  Barelywalking was playing with something, testing it with his mouth.  Glass vials.  Magic potions!

“No!  Not for babies!” Kursiff yelled.

Everything happened at once- the children woke, Podha swung around to see what was going on, and Fenris came out of sound sleep with a battle cry and a ready ax. Barelywalking, startled, dropped a vial onto the stones around the fire.  A green cloud started forming and the little boy started to loose the vials in his other chubby little hand.  Kursiff dived forward, catching two and sending the third shooting off into the bushes.  There was a woomf and a bush caught fire.

All the children were crying and yelling.  Podha grabbed up his bag, stuffing vials back into their pockets, looking shaken.  Fenris ran over to put out the fire with a blanket.

“Oh, Kursiff, I am so sorry!  I truly did not know-” Podha said, his hand on his mouth.

“Well, no harm done this time,”  Kursiff said, picking himself up. He took a shaky breath, feeling strange.  Barelywalking, though he was crying, looked unscathed.

“No harm?” exclaimed Fenris.  “Just look at yerself, man!”

Kursiff looked at his hands.  They were green and furry.  He felt his face with frantic fingers- covered in fur, with long ears.

“It’s temporary, temporary!” Podha shouted over the children’s screaming and Kursiff’s yelling.  “Experimental transformation spell- it will go away in a little while.”

Whyboy giggled, which seemed to calm the other children.  Kursiff looked under his tunic, seeing his normal chest- no, his chest hair was green.  He was going to kill Podha!

“Boo boo?” said Barelywalking, touching Kursiff tentatively.

Kursiff stormed away, trying to control his temper.  He walked straight into a goblin cowering in the shadow of a tree.  The creature looked at Kursiff and screamed in fear, scrambling off into the woods on all fours.  Kursiff could hear many other creatures hiding in the thickets, but nothing approached.

After some deep breathing and training exercises, he came to the camp.  Podha and Fenris were packing up,  the children again in the floating spell.  Both Whyboy and Girly had insisted on walking.

“It’s not just monsters that are attracted to this magic,” said Podha.  “I’ve been seeing many wondrous creatures.  We should keep a tally of what we see, I’m sure it is valuable information!”

Fenris began rattling off species names that he saw last night.  Kobolds, ghouls, goblins, pixies, brownies, raccoons, bears, rabbits, dryads, unicorns-

“You didn’t see a unicorn!”  said Podha with irritation.

“Jealous?” asked Fenris.

“I know for a fact that you’re not a-” Podha started.  Kursiff cleared his throat and Podha stopped. “We will keep a list from now on,”

They traveled the forest path, the children floating above. Soon Girly and Whyboy whined to be carried. Podha refused to pick them up.

Kursiff had been prepared for another day of constant attacks.  Soon he saw why there was not.  Creatures walked apace with them on both sides of the path, beyond the  bracken.  Bears, wolves, unicorns, griffins, deer, fairies and horses could be glimpsed through  breaks in the undergrowth. He saw a tiny, beautiful face staring down from a tree, or could hear the ring of a hoof on a stone.  Podha was excited, checking his bestiary when he saw a creature he couldn’t identify.

“The fair are fighting off the fowl,” Kursiff said, scratching his furry face vigorously.      Wriggler seemed to like this new look, which was one small favor.  “That gives us some breathing space, but we still have to break this!”

Podha looked chastened, handing over his bestiary to Fenris and pulling out a slim book of notes.

He had come up with an answer by the time they stopped for lunch.

“This is not an average spell, you must understand,” Podha said.  “This might not work- I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Kursiff nodded, watching the wizard paint a circle on the ground.  Whyboy tried to  take the paint to make his own markings, and Girly went to pet a unicorn.  Fenris nearly got gored trying to retrieve her.  Kursiff walked over and got her.

“Oy!  It is true!  Would never have believed it!” Fenris said, laughing.

“Shut it,” said Kursiff.  He was not in a good mood, especially after Girly hit him in the eye and called him green monster.  He shoved her and Whyboy into the circle, under the floating children.

Podha started chanting, making faces to indicate that he wanted Kursiff and Fenris out of the way.  The crowd of creatures started backing up as a wind whipped around the circle, gathering strength.  Podha’s voice grew louder and louder, screaming out the words.  Light came from the children, glowing brighter and brighter until Kursiff had to turn away and shade his eyes.  There was a bang, like thunder right overhead. Then silence.

“It is done!” Podha said hoarsely.

It also drained the floatation spell.  For a moment it was raining children.  Kursiff caught Wriggler and Barelywalking, then Bird fell on him.  He rolled over to see that Fenris had caught Stinker.  The animals and magical creatures shook themselves, taking off in all directions.

Bird made a warbling chirp and touched Kursiff’s face.  He looked at his hands- no fur!  From the way Podha was reacting to this reversal, he was pretty sure that the spell had not been temporary.

Podha had drained all his reserves, and the cart was deep in the dungeon.  Kursiff put the babies in the wizard’s care while he and Fenris fashioned a travois.  With the “help” of Whyboy, of course.

“Why are you making something to drag?  Why can’t you make one of those things that people carry?  You know what?  I went to the city and saw a princess in a chair with men holding it with big sticks!  Why can’t we do that?”

Girly’s eyes lit up at that idea, and she promptly sat down between two twigs, her arms held out.

“No, a travois is better-” Fenris started.  Kursiff winced, knowing a logical explanation would not help.  Girly started out with a soft whimper.  The tone grew in strength and power into a full bellow worthy of a banshee.  She threw herself on the ground, sobbing, screaming and thrashing.  She cried until she couldn’t breathe, then paused to gasp and choke before continuing to cry.

Fenris capered.  He did summersaults and cartwheels. He stood on one toe and spun while singing “the old dun cow”.  Girly stopped in astonishment.  Kursiff also found himself transfixed. Was this the same dwarf who beheaded minotaurs with one blow?

“No worries, Girly,” said Whyboy as she quieted.  “It’s a princess travois.”

They finished the travois and started out.  According to the map it wasn’t far. This was a very good thing, since Podha had used the last of the water and cloths during the last diaper change.

They dragged the travois over a rise, finally looking down to the wooden walls of the village in the valley.  Farmers and shepherds called out their arrival.  Women, more women than it seemed that one village could hold, came streaming out, overtaking the party of adventurers, crying and squealing and distributing kisses not only to the returned babes but to Kursiff, Fenris and Podha.  They were swept into the center of the stronghold by a wave of affection and given bread, ale, honey-cakes and wash-water.

Kursiff looked around for Barelywalking and Bird, and realized he no longer had to watch for them.  It felt strange and empty.

Fenris sat down on the bench beside him. “I hear there’s orcs blocking the trader’s pass.”

“Sounds like a holiday,” Kursiff said, grinning.

“Ya, I need a break after this bit!” Fenris slapped his knee.

Kursiff wasn’t fooled- he saw a tear glistening in the dwarf’s eye.