...
The fire crackled gently, spitting up the occasional spark as the scent of roasted mushroom and charred fruit filled the air. It wasn't much, but it was warm and edible. Mostly.
Fin sat cross-legged near the flame, chewing a half-burned fig with mild disinterest as his eyes wandered from face to face.
Lae'zel was hunched over her skewer like a starving predator, tearing through breakfast like it had personally offended her. Wyll sat nearby, posture straight even at rest, methodically peeling the skin from a yellow fruit. Durge lounged upside-down on a log, arms dangling, head tilted toward the flame, watching it flicker like a bored cat. Shadowheart was the picture of calm, one knee tucked under her as she spooned lentils from a bowl. Astarion… was grooming his nails.
It was too early for this.
Fin exhaled through his nose and spoke.
"So," he said, "have we all decided which intel we're following up today?"
The response was as immediate as it was disorganised.
"The creche. Obviously."
"Githyanki don't interest me. I say we hunt down more goblins." Durge stated
"Karlach. She could still be out there. Hurting the innocent." Wyll proclaimed
"If we're voting, I'd like to find the nearest place with a decent tailor"
Shadowheart shrugged, "I'm fine with anything, as long as it's not more gith drama."
Lae'zel spat at her statement while Fin dragged a hand down his face.
Ali flickered into view at his shoulder, arms folded.
"I give it four more seconds before you fake a nosebleed and walk into the woods."
"I might," Fin muttered.
His gaze drifted to the canopy above. Birds flitted between branches, and sunlight bled through the leaves. And yet, in the back of his mind, another thought pulsed louder than all the arguing.
Karlach.
He hadn't met her yet, not properly—not beyond glimpses of all memories of his time playing the game—but she lingered in his thoughts like someone waiting just beyond the next path.
He wanted to find her.
Ali, of course, wasn't going to let that go unnoticed.
"Thinking about your infernal crush again?" she asked with faux innocence.
Fin didn't answer.
Not directly.
But his thoughts wandered back to what he remembered of Karlach's story.
How it ended.
Burned alive from the inside out.
Or forced back to Avernus, the very hell she'd fought so hard to escape.
Neither of those sat well with him, and while it would be fun to see an adventure within the Hells, he couldn't force her back to her prison. He tapped a finger against his knee, mind drifting through potential solutions like pages flipping in a manual.
Maybe… if he rolled something powerful. Something out of bounds.
Idle Transfiguration—a cursed technique with the ability to shape souls and bodies. If he understood its structure deeply enough, maybe he could reconstruct Karlach's heart, or something like that.
Or maybe the Reverse Cursed Technique—not for himself, but for her. Healing her from the inside and reconstructing what was broken, bit by bit.
Or hell, maybe something weirder—some bio-tech. Maybe a regeneration nanite swarm from Mass Effect. Or one of those weird biomechanical hearts from Nier: Automata. Anything that could serve as a replacement.
There were options.
Distant, improbable, absurdly rare options.
But possible.
The System had pulled stranger things before.
Namely, someone's panties, but I digress.
And if he found her—when he found her—he wasn't going to let fate back her into a corner.
Not this time. Not while he was alive and kicking.
Ali's voice cut softly through his thoughts.
"You're serious about this."
Fin nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
"She's not just a side quest," he murmured.
Ali grinned faintly, glowing arms folding again as she floated back.
"Well then. Better start praying to RNGesus, because reconstructing a hell-forged engine heart isn't something you can brute force with sentiment and good intentions."
Fin cracked a small smile.
"Good thing I'm more than just good intentions."
And with that, he stood, brushing the dirt from his coat.
"Alright," he said aloud, interrupting another of Lae'zel and Shadowheart's patented stare-offs. "We're wasting daylight."
Lae'zel snapped her attention to him. "Finally. You've chosen the path of wisdom. We march for the creche."
"Actually," Fin cut in, holding up a finger. "We're doing something worse. We're compromising."
The groans were immediate.
He smirked.
"That's right. You're all gonna get a piece of what you want—eventually. But today? Today we're tracking Karlach."
He held up a finger before Lae'zel could interject.
"No," Fin said. "We're not going to the creche. Not yet."
Lae'zel's nostrils flared, but she didn't speak.
Fin stepped forward, closer to the fire, his haori catching the morning light as it swayed around. The crackle of the campfire wrapped around the group.
"I can feel her," he said quietly.
'Pause', Ali whispered.
Durge blinked.
"…Feel who?"
Fin turned his head, expression unreadable.
"Karlach."
Wyll perked up immediately, eyes wide with hope.
Shadowheart furrowed her brows. "You mean she's nearby?"
Astarion squinted. "I don't see how you'd know that, unless she's screaming."
Fin shook his head. "It's not like that."
He raised a hand, fingers curling slightly as if cupping an invisible orb.
"It's called Observation Haki. A skill, not magic, not psionics. A force developed through battle. One that lets me sense the presence, intent, and emotions of others, while improving my senses dramatically"
He turned back to the group slowly, letting the words sink in.
"I can feel people's will to kill. Their fear. Their focus. Even across terrain and distance. It's what you've seen me use in battle."
Durge tilted her head. "Like when you dodged that goblin's arrow last time at the grove—without looking?"
Fin nodded once. "That was it."
"And when you spotted—"
"Yes, that too."
He let the truth hang in the air. The skill itself was real, then came the lie.
"I felt something this morning. East of here. A presence—burning. Too strong to ignore."
He gestured vaguely toward the distant treeline. "Karlach. It's got to be her."
Wyll nodded slowly. "Then we go."
Lae'zel crossed her arms. "This 'Haki' of yours. Where did you learn it?"
Fin didn't flinch.
"I didn't. It awakened. During battle"
There was a pause.
And then Durge—still perched on a rock, chewing a strip of dried meat—spoke, her tone too casual to be casual.
"Convenient, that this power of yours can detect exactly who we're looking for."
Astarion chuckled faintly beside her, checking his nails.
"Mmm, yes. You do seem to pull rather specific talents out of nowhere, darling."
He took a slow sip of some wine, then gestured lazily.
"Powerful martial instincts. Strange combat skills. You dodge like a monk, strike like a duelist, and now you claim to have precognitive perception?"
His eyes gleamed.
"Who are you, really?"
The group quieted.
Even Wyll glanced over, his arms folding, posture stiffening with faint tension.
Shadowheart remained still, her gaze fixed.
Lae'zel narrowed her eyes.
Durge cocked her head, voice still silk and teeth.
"You give a lot of orders for someone we know nothing about."
Fin didn't respond at first.
He stepped away from the fire, turning his back to them, then glanced sideways over his shoulder.
"I'm someone who gets results."
"That's not an answer," Astarion said smoothly.
Fin exhaled once through his nose.
He simply turned fully back toward them, his expression calm and measured.
"You want answers? Fine."
He gestured to himself with a lazy flick of the hand.
"I'm good in a fight. I see more than I should. And I'm not from here."
He let that hang.
"But I don't owe you my story."
Another beat of silence.
"If that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to walk."
His voice sharpened slightly, the warmth gone now.
"Otherwise, pack your things. We move east in ten."
Ali flickered into view just behind his shoulder, saying nothing—but the tilt of her head, the way her eyes danced, made it clear she was impressed.
The others watched him, scrutinising.
Durge didn't blink.
Astarion smiled too widely.
But no one challenged him.
And Fin turned and walked away.
...
Fin walked at the front of the group, hands in his pockets, his eyes forward but unfocused. The others trailed a few steps behind—Wyll steady and alert, Shadowheart with her arms folded loosely, and Astarion moving with a kind of lazy grace that somehow made no sound at all.
"Are we getting close? Because if I step in one more patch of mud, I may start setting fashion trends in swamp-wear." Astarion moaned.
"You're welcome to turn back," Fin suggested.
"And miss this grand expedition? Perish the thought. Besides, I'd rather keep company with your fine self than stay behind with the gith and the walking icebox."
Shadowheart snorted.
Wyll glanced at Fin. "Anything on Karlach?"
Fin slowed. "Hold up."
Ahead, just beyond the next cluster of trees, the sound of ragged breathing and muffled voices filtered through the undergrowth. Fin held up a hand. The group stopped.
They stepped through carefully.
In a clearing ahead, three figures came into view—two humans and a dwarf. The dwarf was lying on the forest floor, groaning softly, his face pale and sweaty. A thick spear was lodged in his side, blood soaking through the leather around the wound.
The male human knelt beside him, hands shaking but pressed firmly against the bleeding. The woman stood protectively in front, her mace at the ready.
As soon as she spotted them, her eyes snapped wide. "You! Not a step closer!"
Her voice rang sharp through the trees, and she raised her mace. Fin raised both hands slightly in a calming gesture.
"Is that how you treat all strangers?" Fin chuckled
The woman spat, "You don't know what's out here. I'm not taking any chances."
Fin didn't move. His voice stayed calm.
"I don't blame you. But we're not here to fight. We're tracking someone."
The man, still crouched by the dwarf, looked up. His face was drawn with fear and worry, and his hands were soaked in blood.
"Wait—you said you're not here to hurt us?"
Fin nodded once.
The man glanced at Fin. "He's hurt bad. An owlbear got him deep. If there's anything you can do…"
Fin took a step forward, slow and deliberate.
The woman hesitated, her jaw tight. Then, with a low growl, she shifted slightly to the side.
"Fine. You can check on him. But I swear—any tricks, and I put an arrow through your neck."
"Fair enough." Fin shrugged.
Shadowheart moved closer behind him, already assessing the wound from a distance. Wyll lowered his hand toward his belt, not quite drawing his weapon, but ready.
Astarion hung back with a bored expression. "Ah, yes. The wounded stranger side quest. Classic."
Fin crouched by the dwarf, who let out a weak groan, eyes fluttering.
The man, still crouched by the dwarf, looked up. His face was drawn with fear and worry, and his hands were soaked in blood.
Edowin groaned, lips moving without voice—until something clicked behind Fin's eyes.
A whisper. Not in the air.
In the mind.
"Please, True Soul…" the dwarf's voice rasped across Fin's thoughts, thick with agony and fading will. "They're my siblings—Andrick and Brynna. They don't know what they're doing. Watch over them, will you? Don't let them die out here… please. They are recruits for the Absolute, aid them in finding the heathens from the crash site."
Fin's eyes shifted—just a touch.
Andrick. Brynna.
His expression didn't change. His shoulders didn't tense.
But inside?
A smirk curled beneath his skin.
You want me to protect them?
The words slipped from his mind, calm as winter glass.
No.
Then it happened. Two lines—thin, impossibly fast—sliced the air with a whisper of cursed energy.
A blink.
That's all it took.
Andrick's head slipped from his neck like it had simply given up, toppling to the side and hitting the forest floor with a wet thump. Brynna opened her mouth, confused, breath half-formed—
Shhk—
Her head followed. It bounced once before rolling into the leaves beside her brother's.
Their bodies crashed down almost simultaneously, necks cauterised by the sheer force of the cursed technique.
Behind him, Fin heard Shadowheart stagger back.
"What the Hells—?!"
Wyll was already moving, blade half drawn.
Astarion looked confused, "Fin—what did you—"
But none of them could see his face.
Fin stood with his back to them, shoulders relaxed. His right hand slowly lowered from the casting gesture, faint remnants of cursed energy flickering off his fingers before fading entirely.
Edowin gurgled.
His eyes had widened in something that wasn't pain anymore.
It was a betrayal. He couldn't speak. He watched, slack-jawed, as the blood of his siblings soaked into the earth, as his did.
Fin looked him straight in the eyes, unmoved. Uncaring.
Didn't say anything.
Then he collapsed.
Dead.
Behind him, the others stared.
Wyll's voice broke the silence, rough and trembling.
"They weren't going to attack…"
He didn't sound angry.
Not yet.
Just… confused.
"They weren't attacking. They surrendered. They were his siblings."
Fin didn't turn.
"They were cultists."
Wyll took a step forward, his jaw tight, hands clenched into fists.
"They were people."
"They were a liability," Fin replied calmly. Too calm. "You heard the connection—he tried to pull me into their chain, they were literally hunting us. You think that wouldn't come back to bite us later?"
"They were scared."
"They were the enemy," Fin corrected. "Recruits, maybe. But they knew what they were."
Wyll stared at him, chest rising and falling, his voice dropping to something low and raw.
"So that's it, then? Anyone who's a risk… just gets the axe?"
Fin finally turned his head slightly.
"They didn't get the axe."
Wyll's mouth twitched. "You know what I mean."
"I made the right call," Fin said. "They weren't asking for help. They were asking for a leash."
He turned back fully now, his eyes locking with Wyll's.
"You don't want to see it. I get that. But pretending we're still playing by noble rules in a world like this? That's how you end up dead."
Wyll's hand hovered near his sword, his expression torn between disgust and disbelief.
"I joined this fight to save people, Fin. To protect them. If this is what we've become, then—"
"Then walk," Fin said flatly. "If your conscience won't let you stomach reality, take the high road. Just don't expect it to keep you alive."
Silence.
Then a soft voice.
"You're both wasting breath," Shadowheart said, stepping forward, arms folded.
Her eyes were steady. Her tone wasn't sharp—just tired.
"Dead is dead. Fin made a choice. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was smart. I don't know."
She looked down at the corpses.
"A waste of life, sure. But this, is a waste of breath."
Wyll's head snapped toward her.
"You're siding with him?"
Shadowheart didn't flinch.
"I'm siding with the one who keeps us moving."
She glanced at Fin, then back at Wyll.
"I want the tadpole out of my head. I don't care how many heads roll before that happens. I've seen too many people die already to grieve every single one."
Wyll stared at her like he didn't recognise the woman standing in front of him.
"You really think that's what—" he stopped himself. Swallowed the rest.
Astarion stepped forward now, brushing dirt from his nails, the smirk on his face thin and unreadable.
"Well. That was an entertaining bit of horror."
He crouched beside Brynna's head, tilting it slightly with a gloved fingertip.
"Clean cuts," he mused. "Didn't even blink, did you?"
Fin didn't answer.
Astarion stood and turned to him, eyes glittering with a strange mixture of admiration and caution.
"Say what you will, but you're certainly efficient. Brutal. A little terrifying. But efficient."
He smiled faintly.
"I suppose we all have to be something."
Fin looked at none of them. His hand had stopped twitching. His stance was relaxed again.
Ali flickered beside him, silent for once.
The others stood behind.
Some wary. Some furious.
Only Shadowheart stood watching him, not judging.
Wyll shook his head, voice quiet.
"Damn it, Fin… I don't know if I'm walking with a hero or a weapon."
Fin didn't look back.
"Why not both?"
He turned.
Started walking.
Bootsteps crunching against blood-soaked leaves.
Ali flickered into view beside him, a few feet off the ground, barely more than a glimmer of light in the corner of his eye.
Her voice was low.
Measured.
"…That was cold. Even for you."
Fin didn't stop walking.
"Didn't do it for fun," he said. "Did it because it had to be done."
Ali hovered silently for a beat, eyes narrowing.
"You killed them before they made a move."
"They already had. They just didn't know it yet."
His voice wasn't sharp. Not defensive. Just quiet. Clinical. Like he was explaining a solved equation.
"I know what cults do to people. I've seen it. Lived it. There's no halfway. No redemption arc. You don't talk a soul-sick zealot into reason. You cut the infection out before it spreads."
Ali tilted her head, flickering with faint static.
...
[Owlbear Cave – Moments Later]
The cave was massive—cool air seeping from its mouth. Moss clung to the stone, and deep claw marks gouged the rocky walls. Bones littered the ground, some clean, others fresh. Something large had made its home here.
And it hadn't gone far.
Wyll gripped the hilt of his blade as he stepped forward, boots crunching over brittle rib bones.
"Fin… this place. This thing. Why are we here?"
Ahead of them, in the shadows of the cave, a low growl rumbled from the stone.
Then it stepped out.
The owlbear.
The beast's wide, gleaming yellow eyes locked onto the group.
Then—
A second, smaller shape peeked out from behind the beast's leg.
The cub.
Fuzzy and Shaky
Shadowheart stiffened beside Fin.
"Gods," she whispered. "That's no normal beast."
"Obviously," Astarion muttered, stepping back. "It's the size of a house."
"Fin," Wyll said, his voice sharp now, "why the Hells did you bring us here?"
Fin's gaze didn't leave the owlbear. His tone was calm. Controlled.
"To keep this area safe."
Wyll frowned. "That's it?"
Fin nodded.
It wasn't a lie.
Not entirely.
But his eyes flicked briefly to the side of the cave. Wedged beneath the shrine of Selune.
Potion of Animal Speaking.
He'd remembered this place; he hadn't come here to play hero.
The owlbear gave a thunderous screech, the sound rattling their bones. Its massive talons slammed against the stone as it reared up, wings flaring wide.
It didn't matter what they wanted.
It was defending, and it was done waiting.
Fin's voice was low and sharp.
"Positions. Now."
The owlbear lunged.
The adult owlbear surged forward like a tidal wave of fur and fury, its beak snapping toward Wyll, who barely raised his blade in time.
CLANG— steel met beak in a flash of sparks.
Wyll stumbled back, armour dented, eyes wide.
"Big. Really big!" he grunted.
Shadowheart raised her hand, divine light crackling between her fingers. "Sanctuary won't save us from that."
She flung a Guiding Bolt forward—light smashed into the owlbear's flank, staggering it with a flash of radiant fire.
The baby owlbear yelped and scrambled behind a pile of rocks.
Astarion drew his dagger and vanished into the shadows.
"I'll see if I can open a vein or two," he muttered, already circling around.
Fin stood still for a moment longer.
Watching.
Measuring.
Then—
He flicked his hand forward. Black lines snapped into the air with a hiss—Dismantle—ripping through the side of the owlbear's front leg. It howled in rage, feathers flying.
"Don't let it get momentum!" Fin barked.
The owlbear roared and lunged at him now, eyes full of murderous clarity.
Shadowheart stepped forward, eyes narrowing, her voice rising above the chaos.
"Macte virtute!"
A flash of divine light rippled outward from her outstretched hand, washing over the group in radiant warmth. The air shimmered faintly around each of them—Wyll, Astarion, Fin—imbued with the power of Bless.
Astarion, now perched on a mossy ledge just above the battlefield, exhaled smoothly as the enchantment settled over him. His hand moved in a blur.
Thwip—
An arrow cut through the cave's heavy air and slammed directly into the owlbear's left eye.
It howled in agony, staggering back, flailing one massive arm at its ruined face.
"Perfect," Astarion muttered, already nocking another. "Let's blind the other while we're at it."
Wyll raised his palm from across the battlefield, violet light building in the centre of his hand.
"Stay back, beast!" he barked, unleashing an Eldritch Blast that slammed into the creature's torso, forcing it back another step. The power rippled with divine vengeance and forceful magic, cracking the stone beneath the owlbear's talons.
"Drive it toward the wall!" Wyll shouted. "Box it in!"
Fin didn't speak.
He was already moving.
Dashing low along the right flank, cursed energy flickered through his hands. He skidded beneath one of the owlbear's wild swings and sliced his fingers through the air again.
His arms whipped outward in tight angles, criss-crossing around the creature's legs. The Dismanltes sliced through as easily, given the creature's tough hide, instead carving through muscle and tendons. The owlbear roared, collapsing to one knee with a wet, shuddering snarl. Its claws scraped across the stone, struggling to rise.
Fin moved around behind it, arms up again, ready to fire another volley. His face was calm, eyes focused.
Shadowheart, now at the back of the fight, lifted her holy symbol again.
"Illumine eos," she whispered, casting Healing Word toward Wyll to patch up a bruised shoulder from the blast's recoil.
Then—
CRASH—
A thunderous, jarring sound echoed through the cavern above them. A moment later, a massive shadow fell across the battlefield.
A second adult owlbear dropped through a crack in the ceiling. It was flying just above Shadowheart
"Shadowheart, move—!" Wyll shouted.
She spun, eyes wide—
But too slow.
The beast descended quickly.
"WATCH OUT!" Fin roared.
In an instant, he was there.
Cursed energy surged through his legs—Flashstep—his form flickering forward in a blink.
He slammed into her from the side, knocking her clear as the owlbear's body slammed into the ground, cracking it deeply.
They rolled.
Fin landed hard on one knee beside her, his hand still gripping her forearm, breathing heavily.
"Are you trying to die?" he snapped.
Shadowheart blinked up at him, stunned.
"I—"
He let go abruptly and stood. He turned toward the second owlbear. Astarion's voice echoed from above, annoyed and gleeful all at once.
"Oh, come on, two of them?"
Wyll raised another hand, a second Eldritch Blast crackling to life.
"We've got this!"
Fin's eyes locked on the new owlbear.
The second owlbear lunged—talons wide, feathers bristling, jaws open in a deafening screech.
Fin moved before it even touched the ground.
He ducked under one swipe, flipped backwards off a boulder to avoid another. Each attack left deep scars in the cave walls, chunks of rock spraying into the air.
But Fin was faster.
Focused.
Too focused to let it near her again.
He slid under the beast's third strike, cursed energy already spiralling down his arms. He pivoted, drove forward, and slammed an open palm into the centre of the owlbear's chest.
Cleave.
In one instant, the creature's body erupted.
Shlck–shhk–shhk–
It fell apart, being cut down in 1 fell swoop.
Clean cubes of flesh, bone, and feathers tumbled in perfect succession, as though the creature had been diced by invisible blades. The cavern echoed with a grotesque wet sound as the massive body collapsed into pieces.
Fin staggered back, his breathing ragged.
His vision blurred for a moment, black at the edges. His knees wobbled.
Too much cursed energy at once. Again.
Damn it…
Then, a hand gripped his shoulder.
Firm.
He turned.
Shadowheart was beside him, already chanting under her breath, her hand glowing faintly with divine light. Her palm pressed gently against his chest.
"Vigour," she whispered.
A warm pulse rippled through him—radiant, subtle, but immediate.
His stamina surged back, and something else.
His cursed energy.
It reacted—not wildly, but… resonantly. It hummed softly beneath his skin, no longer flickering erratically but flowing.
His eyes opened wider, a breath catching in his throat.
Shadowheart looked up at him with the faintest smile.
"Don't collapse next time."
He blinked.
Then—without quite meaning to—nodded once.
"…Thanks."
Meanwhile, across the cavern, the first owlbear—the one already crippled by Fin's Dismantles and Astarion's arrows—let out a final, pained bellow.
Its remaining eye darted wildly, blood dripping into the fur across its beak.
Wyll stepped forward, no longer keeping his distance.
The time for caution had passed.
He rushed in—dodging the owlbear's half-blind flail—and with a smooth twist, ducked beneath its wing, plunging his blade into the soft joint where neck met shoulder.
He grunted, twisted, and shoved.
The blade cut deep.
The owlbear collapsed with a heavy, rattling groan.
Wyll stepped back, blood on his chest, his breathing slow.
"It's done."
Astarion hopped down from his perch and clapped twice.
"Well, that was positively disgusting."
He wiped a smear of blood off his cheek with a silk handkerchief.
"Anyone else feel like we just murdered an entire family?"
Fin's eyes were no longer on the party. Nor on the corpse of the second owlbear, still steaming in perfect pieces behind him.
They were locked on the cub.
The tiny creature—no longer cowering—had crept forward. Tentatively. Carefully. Then hungrily.
It nudged its mother's body, sniffed, and—
Began to eat.
A wet, soft gnawing sound filled the cave.
No one said anything for a while, even Astarion, ever ready with a quip, simply stared.
Wyll shifted his stance uncomfortably.
"…That's…"
Shadowheart folded her arms, not looking away. Her voice was measured, but quiet.
"It's surviving ?"
Wyll frowned. "We're leaving it here? Just like this?"
Fin finally spoke.
"Yes."
A few glances shifted his way.
"You're not going to kill it?" Wyll asked, not judgmental—more surprised.
"No."
"Even though it saw everything? Killing its mother?"
Fin looked down at the cub.
It had moved further in now, scraping a talon along its mother's split chest, beak soaked in red.
But even still…
It was small.
Fuzzy.
Awkward.
And when it looked up, blinking through blood-smeared fluff, it tilted its head like a confused puppy.
Fin's jaw twitched.
Ali flickered into view beside him, leaning forward slightly with hands on her glowing hips.
"You're gonna keep it, aren't you?"
"No," Fin muttered flatly.
Ali grinned.
"You absolutely are. Don't lie to me. I can feel you softening from here."
Fin narrowed his eyes. "It's feral. Dangerous. More trouble than it's worth"
"Mmhmm," Ali replied, floating a little closer. "You're naming it in your head already, aren't you? I bet it's something absurd. Like 'Clawby.' Or 'Sir Featherstomp.'"
Fin said nothing.
Ali's grin widened.
"I knew it. Look at you. You murder cultists without blinking, but one round fluffball with mommy issues shows up and your brain goes full 'aww'."
Fin exhaled through his nose and turned back to the party.
"It stays alive."
Wyll looked between him and the cub again.
"…Why?"
Fin shrugged. "Not our business, let nature take its course"
And that was that.
The party turned to leave, stepping carefully past shredded feathers and blood-soaked stone.
The owlbear cub remained where it was, chewing at its mother's corpse with single-minded hunger.
And behind them, Fin cast one last glance over his shoulder.
Just a glance.
But his mind, quietly, already made a note.
We'll see each other again.
Cute little bastard.
...
[End of Chapter]