"Son of a Gun!"
I yelled, my voice echoing through the canopy.
"Light?! None of the daily quest tasks were light!"
Running three kilometers, climbing trees, holding a damn boulder, dodging arrows—what part of that screamed light workout?!
"Are you kidding me?!"
I shouted at the sky, waving the pen furiously as if the entity watching me from above could see my frustration.
Then I pointed it upward, rage bubbling in my chest like a boiling kettle.
"Gandalf… when we meet, I'm burying this pen into your eyes, you smug, robed bastard!"
My roar sent a flock of birds scattering from the branches around me. Leaves fluttered to the ground in their wake.
Chest heaving, I leaned against the tree trunk, trying to settle my breath.
That's when it happened—without warning, a soft shimmer of light appeared just above my head. Something slipped through the ripple in the air and dropped squarely onto my face.
A towel.
It flopped down like a lazy squirrel, draping across my features.
