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"Attack of the killer ferret" The overgrown trail ended after a few hours the next day. It opened up onto a larger trail, well within Jowston's borders. They had made it so far fairly uneventfully. Unfortunately that statement did not hold much longer. The first sign of trouble came with the acorns and pine cones raining down on them from above. Jillia covered her head with her arms as a few well-aimed missiles hit her, and said one or two rather un-princessly things. She tried to look and see what was attacking them, but that just resulted in an acorn to the nose. Rowd drew his sword and then realized something very important. Whatever was attacking them was too far away for a blade to do any good what so ever. Why did monsters have to cheat? Then, with the only warning being a rustle of leaves, they were surrounded by about eight gerbils. The giant rats each wore a ridiculous looking cape, and one of them pointed a sharpened stick at them and gibbered something. "You've got to be kidding me," Jillia said flatly. She pictured herself punting one of those little buggers fifty yards. It wasn't realistic, but it would be satisfying. Rowd didn't really know what to make of them. They were being attacked by mutated hamsters. This had to be some alcohol- influenced dream, right? No, his head hurt enough from a well-placed pine-cone for it to be a dream. The guini pig with the pointed stick squeaked something and pointed at one of the packs Rowd was carrying. It bared its pointy little teeth. It wanted the pack. Something like a toll to pass, but with weasels. "Oh, there is no way in -" Jillia was cut off by a pine cone hitting her in the back of the head and the lead badger poking her with the stick. There really was no other choice, Rowd decided. His job was to protect the Princess, and obviously she couldn't do so herself against these simple creatures. He made the decision to hand over the pack with that noble thought in mind, trying to ignore the fact that the little one was staring with bloodthirsty eyes at his neck. Frank might make fun of him later, but he'd have done the same thing if he'd been alive enough for those beavers to eat him! Upon getting the pack, the hedgehogs disappeared into the forest again. "Coward," Jillia said as they continued walking. Only when they stopped for the night did they realize which pack the raccoons had taken. "The tents?! Why did they have to take the tents?" Rowd said as he was unpacking. "It's going to rain soon!" Jillia didn't want to sleep on the ground while it was raining either. "You let those woodchucks steal our tents?" Rowd muttered something darkly about hacking their little tails off and making a stew, but didn't reply to Jillia. Hmph, it wasn't like she did anything to help. Never mind that he was the trained soldier, of course. Stuck without tents, they rolled out the bedrolls on either side of the fire circle. Supper was stew, not of gopher tails like they probably both would be smugly happy about, but of dried meat. They settled down to sleep, but neither went to sleep yet. Jillia rolled on her side, back to the fire and looked asleep to Rowd. "Aww," Frank said, appearing next to Rowd, "I think she looks chilly. Why don't you go warm her up a bit, big brother?" "Shut up, Frank," Rowd muttered, trying not to be heard by Jillia. "Yes, please do," Jillia said, sitting up and glaring at the somewhat transparent Frank. "Or else I'll have an exorcist banish you to where you should be." Frank and Rowd both stared at her with wide eyes as Jillia rolled over to try to go back to sleep. "How - how did she - ?" Frank asked at the biggest surprise of his unlife. Never mind, she might make good on that threat. Maybe it was time to make like a ghost and... be invisible? And silent? Good idea.
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