The river hissed quietly as it slid past the rocks—slow, silver, and serene.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"I hate this place," Dane growled, kicking a rock into the water. "It's quiet. Too quiet. Like it's mocking me."
Kael was ahead, shirt tied around his waist, stomping through knee-high reeds. A massive two-handed maul rested lazily over one shoulder like a toy bat.
"Mockin' you? Bro, it's just a river," Kael called back. "It ain't got a mouth. Or eyes. Or a soul to insult you with. Chill."
"I am chill," Dane snapped. "Which is the problem. I hate being chill. My flamethrower is cold. My blood is calm. I need to fix that."
Kael scratched his head, frowning. "Wait, you hate bein' calm? Man, I live for calm. Like, after a big brawl? Nothin' better than layin' back, drinkin' ale, and listenin' to my stomach digest the ribs I stole."
Dane ignored him. His eyes were scanning the tree line ahead like a starving wolf. The shadows swayed in the wind, but no movement. No camps. No enemies. Just birds. Stupid, useless birds.
"I wanna burn something," Dane muttered.
Kael turned. "Dude. You said that ten times already."
"And I meant it every time," Dane grinned, fingers twitching near the flint at his belt. "You see that log? That's a burnable log."
"That's a dead log."
"Exactly."
Kael let out a deep sigh, dropping his maul onto the dirt with a loud thump.
"Alright, hold up, time out. You remember the mission? 'Find trade routes, fishing huts, maybe some outposts'? Doesn't say 'light up the forest like a festival bonfire.'"
"I interpret missions," Dane said, crossing his arms. "You follow them like they're rules."
"They are rules, dude!"
"And rules are flammable," Dane said with a grin. "Like everything else."
Kael rubbed his face, dragging his massive hand down his cheeks. "Why do I keep getting paired with the pyromaniac?"
"Because I can throw you," Dane said, deadpan.
Kael blinked. "...Wait. You can't throw me."
Dane grinned wider. "Maybe not. But if I light you on fire, someone will throw you."
"You are a menace."
"And you're a meatball with legs."
Kael snorted, then laughed. "Okay, that was good."
They continued east, following the river's curve into a break in the trees. The canopy opened up ahead into a small, muddy clearing. Wooden stakes jutted from the ground—old boundary markers, barely held together by time and rot. Empty fish baskets. Broken nets. And one small dock, half-sunken into the riverbank.
Kael's eyes lit up. "Whoa! Fishing outpost, man! Told you the map wasn't trash."
Dane, meanwhile, was already walking to the nearest hut—a ramshackle thing with mold on its roof and cobwebs thick enough to catch a goblin. He opened the door, peeked inside, then kicked it open fully.
"Abandoned. Rotted. Dry enough to catch fire with a look."
Kael frowned. "Bro. Don't."
Dane turned, grinning like a child with a matchbook. "I'm just saying. A little fire could help sterilize the area. Y'know. Sanitation."
Kael stepped between him and the hut. "No burning. Not unless it tries to bite you."
"...What if it creaks aggressively?"
"Dane."
Dane raised his hands. "Fine. Fine. But if a fish so much as flops in my direction, I'm torching this whole river."
"You can't burn a river! It's made of water!"
"There's always a way, Kael," Dane muttered ominously.
Kael dropped down onto the edge of the dock, letting his legs dangle over the water. "Man, you need therapy."
"You're my therapy."
Kael burst out laughing. "That's the worst idea anyone's ever had!"
Behind them, something rustled.
Both froze.
Kael slowly reached for his maul. "Please be a deer."
Dane pulled out his flamethrower. "Please be a bandit. Please be a bandit. Please—"
A small shape leapt from the bushes.
Kael squinted. "Wait, is that a—?"
A bunny landed in the clearing with a soft thump, its fur pure white, ears twitching as it looked between the two men with wide, innocent eyes.
Kael's face lit up.
"Awwww—LOOK at him!" he said, his voice rising half an octave. "Look at his lil' nose, dude! That's the cutest thing I've seen all week!"
Dane didn't hesitate.
With a single, fluid motion, he yanked a dagger from his belt and whipped it through the air.
THUNK.
The blade embedded itself in the rabbit's skull.
The creature dropped instantly, twitching once before going still.
Kael screamed. A full-on, heartbroken wail.
"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
"DANEEEE!"
"What?!" Dane shouted defensively, already walking over to retrieve the dagger. "That thing jumped out of the bushes! What was I supposed to do?!"
"Not murder Thumper!"
"It could've been a scout, Kael! A distraction! A shapeshifter! A cursed bait-beast! Or—hell—just a really suspicious bunny with bad timing!"
Kael dropped to his knees beside the fallen rabbit, cradling it like a wounded soldier. "He was just a baby, man! Look at his widdle paws!"
"I am, and now I'm wondering if they're flammable."
Kael's face twisted into horror. "You are a monster."
Dane pulled his dagger free with a sickening squelch, wiping the blood on his cloak. "You say monster, I say proactive."
"He wasn't even looking at us funny!"
"He hopped aggressively! That's suspicious movement!"
Kael stood, towering over Dane, visibly vibrating with rage. "You just—you don't kill a cute animal unless it tries something! That's, like, an unwritten rule of nature!"
Dane raised an eyebrow. "What if it looked at me in a judgmental way?"
Kael pointed furiously. "You are not allowed to define war crimes based on your emotional projections onto rodents!"
The two stared at each other.
Silence.
Then Kael sighed, rubbing his face. "I'm gonna bury him."
Dane blinked. "You're serious?"
"Yes. His name was Sir Wigglepaws. And he was innocent."
"…Sir—what."
Kael ignored him and began digging a shallow grave with the flat edge of his maul.
Dane muttered under his breath, walking away toward the hut. "Y'know, I've burned a lot of things in my life. But I swear, Kael's emotional attachment to wildlife might be the most confusing of them all."
Kael shouted over his shoulder, "You're not invited to the funeral!"
"I'm bringing firewood."
"NO YOU'RE NOT!"
Kael knelt solemnly over the freshly dug grave, gently lowering the rabbit's body into the pit with the care of a grieving mother. He placed a flat stone beside it, then added a second, smaller one at the foot like a headstone.
"May your hops be eternal," he whispered, voice soft and reverent. "May the fields beyond be filled with endless clover… and no flaming psychopaths."
He produced a small piece of charcoal from his pouch and, with surprising delicacy for a man who regularly used his fists to demolish doorways, sketched a sad little bunny face on the headstone. The ears drooped. The eyes sparkled. It was a bunny in mourning.
Behind him, Dane leaned against a tree, arms crossed, chewing on a twig like it was a toothpick. "You know," he said, voice casual, "if I light a match and toss it into that hole, I'm technically cremating him. That's classy. Honorable."
Kael didn't look back. "Touch this grave," he said, voice low and full of threat, "and I swear I will flatten your skull like a pancake and wear it as a breakfast hat."
Dane blinked. "That's… disturbingly specific."
Kael stood and dusted his hands off. "Don't test me. Sir Wigglepaws deserves peace."
"Alright, FFFFFIIIINNNEEEEEE," Dane groaned, throwing his hands in the air like a stage actor rejected for a lead role. "No fire, no disrespect, no pyromaniacal justice for possible shapeshifters in disguise. I get it."
Kael turned to him, eyes narrowed. "You don't. But we're moving on anyway."
They both started walking, falling into a steady rhythm along the edge of the river. The water whispered beside them, a gentle, winding path slicing through the wilderness. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the muddy banks and reflecting on Dane's gleaming fuel tanks.
"Hey Kael," Dane said, after a few minutes of silence.
"Yeah?"
"What if Sir Wigglepaws comes back from the dead? Like—revenant rabbit. Black eyes. Seeks vengeance for his unfinished hop-cycle."
Kael groaned. "Then you're bait. I'm not punching a bunny ghost."
"You're gonna regret that. I read a book once. Undead rabbits are nasty. They multiply. Spiritually."
"You can't even read!"
"I looked at a book really hard. Same thing."
Kael laughed despite himself. "You are the dumbest genius I've ever met."