“Making me the perfect accomplice.”
Smiling, I nod. “But also, I’m gonna have to request something hard from you before I say anything about it.”
He cocks his head.
“You can ask questions about the task at hand, but not about anything else. Okay?”
“Limiting my access to inquiry is a tall order…but I’ll do what I can to respect your privacy.”
I lace my fingers together in front of my jean skirt. “I appreciate that. Now…have you ever encountered a queen slime lair?”
The spark that ignites in Slate’s eye as he puts two and two together is…well…nuclear.
~ ~
Slate willnot stop laughing.
And, I mean, I’m so glad he’sthrivingamid this battle, but also. “You suck,” I snap, bopping a green slime atop the head forthe fifteenth time. My arm is getting tired, and I still have four stupid colors left.
Slate wheezes, leaning against one of the massive willows protecting the Mystic Forest. A breeze runs through the weeping boughs around him, and the white leaves rustle together, creating glass music as though they’re wind chimes.
“I’m going to let the blue slime eat you,” I clip.
Wiping a tear from his eye and sniffling, Slate lifts his freakinghand-held flamethrower, and decimates the blue slime that was wobbling its way over to him. Horrifyingly, the creature melts into nothingness at Slate’s boots. “This is fabulous.” He chuckles. “Bop, bop, bop.”
I’m going to bop him, dang it.
“You said you wanted to do this as much by yourself as possible, and that I should only seek to protect myself if I had to, because you’re proving something.”
“I know what I said!” The green slime perishes, so I dodge a pathetic purple hop and begin my twenty-seven-ish bops on it. Crit chance spares me an average of a mundane six. Bless.
Slate revs his flame thrower. “Sooo…”
“No, I don’t want your help.”
“’Kayyy,” he chirps, snickering. “Just making sure.”
At long last, I bop my final bop, lower my aching arm, and free a breath.
Hooking his flame thrower in a holster at his waist, Slate begins to clap. “Encore.”
My eyes roll toward him and the wisps of dark hair sticking out around his goggles. Yeah, buddy, there are reasons you’re my second favorite character, yet not my marriage option. You’re great fun, but one morning of this, and I’d poison your coffee.
Plopping his goggles back on his forehead, he peers into the majestic fog skating across the mossy earth ahead. “I have tosay, this entire morning has been most invigorating, and—while hilarious—your assured confidence throughout this endeavor is something to behold.” He skims his fingers through the weeping, musical foliage. “I should very much like to test samples of this magical place. I am honored that you saw fit to share it with me, even if you aren’t disclosing how exactly you knew it was hiding here.”
“I’m not humoring that comment.” Squaring my shoulders, and knowing I’m going to feel soreness for days after this, I rub my neck. “Thank you for your bomb slinging. I’m glad you’ve found fun new research to do.” I point my wooden sword into the thickest mist. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going to wander into the darkness.”
“Sammy’ll kill me if I let you do that alone.” He steps forward.
I tuck my sword back into my backpack and frown. “To be fair, we don’t know if you’re not already a dead man walking.”
“True. My chances improve drastically if you make it back home, though.”
I sigh, then I offer my hand.
He stares at the limb. “Whatever is that for?”
“If we get separated, you’ll get lost and die.”
