Laural did her best not to get frustrated with her brand-new problems. This group must be the worst she could imagine. They’d accept two random women because one could drive the cart and because the other had snacks. Nettle’s leadership so far had consisted of making poor decisions all day. Skipping lunch? The very worst of the worst.

  What did they have? No leadership. A djinn with no skills, a standoffish Orc. Now a pretty human woman. Pretty human women attracted off-worlders like moths to a five tentacled glow squid in heat. Twenty horses, two carts now, supplies that she had to verify for herself later tonight. Not because she wondered if she could sell it to the fence and get off the hook. Definitely not.

  The Laural explained to Day about the two new cart pulling horses as the others watched them and did not offer to help. She rotated out the group in the first cart, got together a group to pull Day’s cart back onto its side and finally offered two horses to be put into the harnesses’ of Day’s cart which she called Ripple. Who named their carts? Still, she might needed these horses to accept Day.

  She pointed at the horses. “This is Pair and Par. Try not to get them confused. It annoys both of them.”

  “So Pear and Per are a pair?”

  “Pair and Par pull your pumpkin, princess.”

  Day gave her a fake smile. “Marvelous.”

  Laural scowled back at her. “Just say Babbitt Boo when you want to go.”

  “Why would you name them that?”

  Charm the guys, then be rude to the only other woman talking. Classy. Laural resolved to listen to Bodi on occasion.

  “They had their names before I got either of them. Pair used to be Pair of Studs by an owner who’s about like you’d expect from the name, and when Studs died Pair acted up. Par-for-the-course they intended to help a golf cart pony, but he had the tendency of tenaciously kicking drunk people in the face. Par didn’t last long in his career path. But when I put them together, Par tried to kick Pair, and Pair nearly killed Par. Now they’re inseparable and Par doesn’t kick so much. Successful rehabilitation all around so long as they stay together.”

  Day kept the fake smile even though her eyes clouded with suspicion. “Point out Par. I don’t like hooves that kick people.”

  “Par is the sorrel.”

  Laural walked away. But heard the “uhmn?” Day should have kept her mouth shut. She probably had no idea what the hell sorrel meant.

  She heard the other woman mutter, “Why do horse people had such a penchant for talking about things in weird words like roan, buckskin, grullo, and piebald, which is neither like pie or bald. Now I want pie.”

  The matching horses Laural had given her were indeed strange. The white horse had a few sables and an unstable coat that appeared to have lost some strange sections around its stomach and face showing its’ oily bare skin like it was normal. Next to it a larger brown horse that stood the same height but had somehow squared more than any square possibly could. It was thick and corded with muscles. The ugly muddled coat tried to hide it this was clearly a horse that had great power. Next to it the little white seemed like a tiny farthing thrown into to make it appear especially unmatched. To everyone’s surprise, except Laural’s, the white horse nipped once at the big brown as it skulked in the traces unhappily. After being told off by the older horse, the younger bulker one settled on taking the horses more stoically as his elder glared at him with knowing rummy eyes that provoked no peace, but a sense of mutually assured destruction if anything went wrong.

  The cart thus outfitted, Day leaped up to her places on the steps with a brilliant smile already fixed on tightly. And despite the lack in correct sizing, the two pulled out together with easy steps, as Laural knew they would. The cart itself let out not a squeak as it got heaved onto the road again. That suggested more than a little effort built into the shocks to make it quite workable. Considering the cart sat on its side, that could mean an excellent design or enchantment. Day took to the top of her home with a stick and beat out the dust on the leathers with her giant pole. It appeared as if she’d had this plan all along. To have two horses instead of oxen pulling. Only two, such a large weight. It should take more. Laural narrowed her eyes but then shook her head. Must be a convertible type. A red convertible with four wheels. How much could she sell that for?

  Plus, one to people she needed to kill in order to leave safely. Bodi had chased her and been a guard. Definitely the type to get rid of. And Fae never counted. Humans and djinn thought, neither of them had actually done anything to her yet. Could she even do it if she really had to?

  As she mulled that over, she appreciated again the benefit of such as well shocked cart. Beside the buckboard, it made hardly any sound. This wouldn’t impact their speed at all. Bodi glanced over taking in the new cart with a peaceful smile. The jerky had left a linger impression on the jerk. Laural never considered bribing like that to a human. Horses sure, but who knew a sugar cube could do that to orcs? At least they could finally go on traveling instead of crashing or gathering party members like Pokémon cards. Gotta catch ‘em all flavor of woman. Laural had avoided like fifteen off-worlder harems by a narrow margin. She usually had to go ultra vegan for awhile to stay safest.

  A deep bellowing moan, like an ancient snoring mountain smashed its CPAP, exploded from nowhere. She saw what appeared to be a bold boulder fly into the sky and heard a corresponding squeal of a horse in pain. Since she’d been planning how to avoid off-worlders, her grasp of commands to the horses were too late. They took off at speed, dragging carts and humans away from whatever cause the ruckus.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She tired to look behind her to see what might be happing who or what was attacking them but she couldn’t see anything but a brightly colored hulking human fitting cart blocking her view. The horses were dead out galloping, with Bodi’s poor draft horse trying to pretend it’d been born an Arabian.

  A smashing sound followed, with a meaty thunk in it. Back in the trees, she could only see one massive claw dragging in an already dead horse. Nothing she could have done for it now. As she tried to calm all the horses, it was effectively doing nothing much. She’d spent most of the day talking to them convincing them not to fight people in the city or be too upset to ride after the multiple cart crashes. Then she’d asked them to pull junk off the ride of the path. Now she wanted them to stop plunging away from big bad noises? Nope. They’d had enough.

  So she just hung on and made sure they stayed roughly together in a herd. That would have to be enough. Eventually, the horses naturally all drew up on an empty stretch of road. A more menacing pine grove hovered over them now. Day left her cart to join the ring of lathered horses around the buckboard. Arriving last, Bodi’s horse clearly spent hung its head walking.

  The all black Belgian Draught mare Dustierian mournfully panted to her, “This chunky rock. We die. Get eat. All faster. I die.”

  With Dustierian knees wiggling like your eighth Jello shot, Bodi climbed off. Patting the horses heaving sides with no finesse.

  “Which horse got taken?” Bodi demanded.

  Everyone looked at her, at Laural.

  Laural turned to Nettle. “What’s his name?”

  Put on the spot, he flinched away. “Spanx?”

  He shifted his weight right to left. Did the uber wealth have a name remembering block or could she at least confirm this was the most useless Fae ever? “Or pantyhose. It was a garment name. I’m sure or sounded like a garment.”

  Laural shook her head. Another dead horse in two days. It was her personal record of failure. At this rate, their trip would be very quick indeed. This one didn’t even have a name to note about him.

  She rubbed her forehead. “What did you see, Bodi?”

  Bodi’s horse still panted from the massive weight of his rider, so he had to speak up to be heard over the wheezing. “A kangaroo.”

  At their expressions of incredulity, he clarified. “A carnivorous kangaroo?”

  “But in a hole?” Kriti added, with only a hint of concern about the narrative.

  Nettle sighed. “How did we miss it inside that hole?”

  “It didn’t. It made the trap.” Day sounded sure about this.

  Bodi shouted. “I don’t get it.”

  “He’s from the down under, mate.” Kriti copied the accent perfectly, then shifted back to her usual Adville tone. “It’s his little hidey hole.”

  “Wait, wait, it popped out of a trapdoor hole?” Laural tried to remember what she’d heard about this.

  “It’s Trapgaroo? That’s a tourist attraction. If we go back, can we throw another horse? I want to try and get a better look at it.” Day, every bit a tourist, pulled out what might be a sketch book.

  “No!” exclaimed Laural. She glowered. “We need them for the trip and now we have two carts instead of one.”

  Day tutted to herself but closed the book. “Right, of course, my mistake.”

  “It is! This all your fault Day you blocked my eye lone with your huge, covered cart!”

  “Aren’t you horsewoman extraordinaire? Shouldn’t you see without seeing? Anyway, Nettle’s beside the cart. That means he should be keeping watch there.”

  Nettle shifted blame expediently. “Bodi, you’re supposed to be watching.”

  “I guard you.”

  “And my property,” Nettle reminded him. “The horses are my property.”

  “I still don’t-“

  “Shut up, Bodi.” Laural noticed the sinking sun with equally sinking emotions. “Should we try to avenge our dead horse?”

  “We should try to run far away while it’s not hungry.” Nettel shrugged. “It won’t leave a successful trap for awhile and if we go now, it won’t be a problem. Besides we are still basically only an hour away from the city on a very dangerous stretch to the road with waning light.”

  “RIP Pantyhose,” mumbled Day.

  Laural sighed and instructed the horses before their could be any more discussion about it. They had to give up at the setting sun still definitely in the range of a hunting Trapgaroo, and essentially just off the road in a slightly thinner section of the woods. They had no choice as the sunlight shrank to nothing and they all stared around at camp. It looked just like everywhere else. Pine trees and pine trees and furr trees and fir trees.

  “Stay away from furr trees,” Laural advised them all.

  “So how to set up camp?” Bodi sounded ready to get going and looked to their only useful financially leader.

  Nettle stared. “I don’t have any idea. Sorta new at this.”

  “I have the most knowledge about this. Bodie, go get firewood.” Day instructed. “Carefully. Nettle help Laural with the horses.”

  The two of them frowned at each other but then shrugged.

  After everyone made a terrible job of it, stumbling around in the dark lost, and cursing over how to hitch the horses, they all settled around the heavily smoking fire. It popped sap frequently and generally made it quite unpleasant to sit by their only very smokey and spark inducing fire. By far the only effective bedding down, had been Kriti’s roasted plantains.

  They ate in appreciative silence. Once they finished dinner, the problem began.

  “Who here has a weapon? You know big monsters here to eat our twenty horses. Weapons, guys?” Day demanded.

  Nettle lamented. “Nineteen. RIP Spanx.”

  “I’ve got a whip.” Laural added. “It’s a regular whip so downsides but I can use it in a pinch.”

  “Anybody else?”

  Nettle put his had out rigid and flat. Then levitated it up and down from his pecs to his lower abdomen. “My body is a weapon!”

  They all burst out laughing and shaking their heads.

  “Yeah, Fae have magic.” Day managed between her chuckles. “All of us know that. We even know it’s really powerful. Could you be more specific?”

  Nettle stuck out his jaw. “Not since you made fun of me.”

  “Ok, so we have a whip and Fae magic.” Day tried to stay focused. “Kriti?”

  “I have this crossbow. It’s on the cart.”

  “Great an actual weapon. That’s the first one.”

  “Bodi, do you fight with your fists?”

  “I usually use my head.”

  “With head butting?”

  “Nothing like that.” He said bluntly.

  So next chance we get a weapon for you. Do you want a sword and ax?”

  “I want nunchucks!”

  “Let me rephrase. Will you be better at killing things with an axe or a one-handed sword?”

  “Just cause I’m an orc doesn’t mean I always want to kill things. How about a really strong staff?”

  Day was over this back and forth. “Look whatever the next thing that works for you, we’ll try that.”

  “Day, what do you have? You travel alone.” Laural tilted her head waiting.

  She glanced back at the cart. “All I need is my home, Ripple and good fortune. I’m not any good at combat. I have some potions and can help heal after. But usually, I just get away quickly or have my oxen pretreated with anti-smelling spray. FeHeeze. It’s expensive but worth it.”

  “FeHeeze doesn’t work on horses and it’s never available.” Laural squinted then shrugged.

  “Say stood so in conclusion we have a crossbow, a not for fighting whip, two bodies of strength in some kind of ways and a healer for going across how much land with nineteen horses. What could go wrong?” Laural wished again for debtors’ prison. All her horses and likely herself was definitely going to die in a weaponless party.