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By the time they were descending toward a hilltop bald that would put them just short of the valley of which Leaf had spoken, Walter's fingers were cramping and the skin of his cheek was embossed, possibly permanently, with the fine texture of the dragon scale against which it pressed, but he still felt a fresh ache whenever his thoughts touched on his lost smoker, which was often. The juvenile dragons steepened their descent, leaving behind their sentinel parents. What, Walter thought with a shiver that had nothing to do with the altitude, could dragon parents possibly need to protect their children from? Or who? He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind. A few minutes later, the juveniles performed their acrobatic, stomach-churning landing maneuver, leaving Walter nauseated and slightly dizzy.

"I appreciate the ride," Walter said, straightening himself and patting the dragon's neck just in front of the saddle, "but I am going to need to get off now, big friend, or I might toss my cookies." If the beast registered his words, it showed no sign as Walter sat for a few seconds, hoping his various senses would find greater harmony. Once his airsickness began to fade ever so slightly, he thought through the mount and dismount procedure they had been shown by Sea Mist, which involved climbing down behind the dragon's rear-right haunch. Walter thought he'd be able to identify the various hand and foot holds they'd been shown, so he swung his left leg over the front of his saddle, lost his balance, toppled backward off of his dragon, and fell for what seemed an unnecessarily long time before landing flat on his back on what, he was grateful to discover, was deep alpine grass. Elated at being neither seriously injured nor dead, Walter sprang to his feet and dusted off his duster—the mental wordplay he registered causing him a small smile—just in time to find Leaf coming around the front of the dragon Walter had ridden.

"I did not see you dismount," Leaf said, looking him over.

Walter chuckled nervously. "You'd have had to be watching pretty closely. It was," he cleared his throat, "efficient."

"We should continue on foot from here. Best that your colony remains well removed from Deilmarkt. I doubt that any assurance of ours would calm the people of the town, particularly after their emergency relocation. They well might strike out from afar before we could ensure reason reigns."

"I would be happy to continue on foot," Walter said.

"I do not know where exactly we will find the town, but during our descent, I espied what appeared to be a region of disturbance among the treetops. We can be there before nightfall."

"Okey dokey."

Leaf nodded toward the giant beast standing silently over them. "They will keep their distance from Deilmarkt?"

Walter looked out over the valley, which was surrounded by high ridges backed by more distant peaks, several of which were snow-capped. He closed his eyes, imagined a Do Not Enter symbol spanning the entire valley, and pushed the thought outward. His mount grunted, and Walter opened his eyes.

"It is done?" Leaf said and received from Walter as uncertain a look as ever she'd seen.

"I hope so," Walter said.

"As do I," Leaf said.

During the two legs of their flight from Morbeet, an uncomfortable feeling had been growing in Walter that it would be best if he could improve his relationship with the unintended members of his Colony of Choice. On the verge of leaving them for an indeterminate amount of time, Walter suddenly felt that the sooner he made progress, the better. Looking up, he stretched to reach the dragon's chest above him and gave it a gentle pat. A head that well could have swallowed him—and in fact previously had, repeatedly—swung down to gaze at Walter. Under the weight of the gaze, Walter managed only to whisper, "Nice dragon," before turning to walk toward the treeline below.

"This way, Wurmslayer" Leaf called, and Walter changed course one hundred twenty degrees to follow her in the direction she indicated.

"Maybe better not to use that little nickname," Walter said quietly when he caught up with Leaf.

"You are not wrong about that."

The game trail they took up wound down through the alpine grass and soon entered the trees they had been able to look across from the bald. Mostly firs, the beauty of the trees began to raise Walter's spirits. He had to imagine that, at this elevation, the forest spent much of the year under a mantle of snow, which made him feel like he was surrounded by gigantic Christmas trees. Thinking about how small his little halfling fellow was, he felt like a miniature toy amongst the festive trees. Walter had always cherished having a tree each year when he was a child. Wanda's family observed the holiday, but being from more southerly climes, it had been Walter who brought the tree to the melded tradition they'd developed together and with which Reeve had grown up. As he followed the path, Walter's gaze slid over the needles that covered the ground, and at the same time, he held a hand to one side, letting the needles still on limbs run through his fingers. Thinking of Reeve and the scenes of the winter holidays during her childhood, Walter found his vision blurring, which was at least partially responsible for his walking straight into the deep black of Leaf's cloak without having realized she'd come to a stop.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Smiling apologetically, Walter backed himself out of the cloak and looked up to find Leaf looking at him over one shoulder with a stern expression.

"Apologies," he said, "I was just a bit caught up in the beauty."

"The beauty?" Leaf said, her voice barely audible.

"This all brought to mind winter holidays—"

"These creatures remind you of holidays?"

"These creatures?" Walter slowly pulled his attention from Leaf's querying look to the trees around them, which now felt uncomfortably close. Finding nothing but limbs, he raised his gaze and stiffened as he realized that high in the trees above, ringing Walter and Leaf's location on the game path, were small monkeys, each only a couple of feet from head to foot. Dark, bushy black fur covered most of their bodies, but the fur of their arms, chests, and faces was a brilliant emerald green, save for an oddly shaped purple patch in the middle of their chests. Their bodies and limbs were thin, as was their tail, which was nearly as long as their body but strong enough to support their weight, as several were hanging from limbs by them. They were all staring at Walter and Leaf.

"Yes, I see now," Walter said as quietly as he could for Leaf to still hear him. "And, no, not part of our holidays, traditionally speaking." Walter turned slowly in place, his examination of the trees above confirming that they were encircled. "Goodness." He gripped the upper front panels of his duster, the top two buttons of which were not fastened, and pulled them together protectively.

Leaf relaxed her hands at her sides and turned the palms slightly forward to ensure the creatures saw she was unarmed. Noticing this, Walter released the duster's flaps and made the same gesture as Leaf. At the same time, he turned slightly to put his back to Leaf's. The pair stood, looking up into the trees, watching the creatures that looked back down silently.

"Did they find us?" Walter said after a few minutes. "Or did we happen upon them?"

"They are uncommonly quiet," Leaf said. "By the time I was aware of them, they were descending from higher in the trees, and I am uncertain whether they had been traveling with us prior, or if we had chanced upon their territory and they were responding to our intrusion."

As Leaf finished speaking, one of the creatures high above and in front of Walter jumped from the branch on which it perched and plummeted toward the ground, only to land nimbly a few feet in front of Walter, its long limbs absorbing the impact like springs. Walter saw it held a short piece of wood, which, at one end, was curved almost like the curl of a question mark. From the other end protruded a black piece of stone that looked sharp to Walter. Very sharp. The wood looked to Walter as though it had been carefully crafted, not rough-hewn, but he could not parse its nature or meaning.

Walter looked up into the trees, wondering if the other animals were holding similar objects. Some did appear to be holding objects, but Walter could not make them out, and whatever they were, they were smaller than the piece of wood.

The monkey facing Walter raised the wooden object and pointed the question-mark-end toward Walter. The creature remained silent, as did its companions above.

A greeting? Walter thought. Perhaps best to reciprocate in kind. Deciding he had something that fit the bill, he reached back and pulled from his Inventory his handy spatula, which was right about the same size as the little fella's wooden stick.

"I don't have anything exactly like what you've got there," Walter said, "but I'm quite fond of this." He extended the spatula toward the monkey in the way it still held its stick toward him.

"You what?" Leaf said, turning to look over her shoulder. Back still toward her, Walter did not see her eyes widen.

"What are you doing?" She said.

"Trying to communicate."

"Caution, Walter. Many beasts of this realm do not share the same language, verbal or physical, as do we."

Seeing that the monkey had not retracted the stick it had extended toward him, Walter gave the little critter a toothy halfling smile.

At the gesture, the monkey's eyes widened, and it released a sound like a bark, spun the stick in its hand so that the black rock pointed toward Walter, and jumped at Walter's face.

Walter met the oncoming creature with his spatula, the enchanted utensil championing his desire to maintain a monkey-free face far better than he could have alone. The flat of the spatula connected with the side of the monkey's head—which caused Walter an almost corporeal surge of dèjá vu—rendering the creature senseless and sending it flying into the lower boughs of a nearby tree, where its limp, gangly legs became tangled, and it hung like a masterless marionette.

"I would not consider that 'caution,'" Leaf said from behind Walter, "and I think they do not either."

Walter looked up just in time for something to explode against his face, causing him to stagger back into Leaf's cloak. Strong, sweet aromas permeated his senses as, eyes closed, he wiped away sticky goop with his free hand. "They're throwing fruit?" He said. More objects struck against his duster, and through squinted lids, he looked down. "And mud?" He squinted further. "I sure hope that's mud."