AN: Still alive. :)
***
The Desertcutter changed in a hundred steps. From a frothing, roaring tempest less than a mile wide, it tumbled as a gushing waterfall, landing and slowing to a deceptively gentle flow, its new bed spanning over three miles in width.
The bank fell just as abruptly. Sharp rocks, which had occasionally stuck out of the thin layer of mud and grass, got replaced by fertile land. The far side experienced an even more staggering transformation. From a rocky wasteland, it became a lush grassland with shrubs and scattered trees.
“I thought there was nothing but the wastes south of the Desertcutter,” Stephan said.
“The green patch on the other side is less than half a mile wide. Beyond that is the desert.”
Stephan nodded. There was little need to include such a small strip of life on distant strategic maps.
“So, do we swim across?” he asked, noting that the water was still fast, but not something that would instantly kill him.
“Only if you really feel like it, Sweet Cheeks, I’ll take the rowboat and cheer you on,” Muriel said casually, as if she were seriously answering Stephan’s question. “And say hello to the river dragons for me.”
“I’ll take the boat, thank you,” Stephan didn’t react to her teasing. Ignoring such nonsense was the best way to make it go away. “Where is it, and what are river dragons?”
“There’s still a mile before we reach the boat. The water might seem calm, but it’s full of danger and invisible whirlpools waiting to suck you in,” Muriel pointed. “And that over there is a river dragon.”
Stephan followed her finger and spotted a long brownish-black log floating in the water a few yards from the bank, ripples spreading around it.
He stared, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Don’t be deceived. It might look almost identical to a log, but if you step too close, it’ll drag you to the bottom of the river in a blink.”
Stephan squinted at the innocuous length of driftwood. It was big, probably twenty feet long, and other than being large for a solid piece of wood sticking out of the water in broken pieces, there was nothing odd about it. He gazed at it for several moments.
“Are those two knobs eyes? And it’s drifting against the current.”
“Nice catch.” Muriel said in a cheery voice. “In the future, if you see anything, anything floating around in the Desertcutter, you keep away. Those things are frightfully fast for short bursts, and have really massive jaws. If it catches you, that’s it. They don’t chase boats, but if we pass near one by accident, it might try to topple the boat and throw us into the water. If it succeeds, at least one of us is dead.”
Stephan gulped and once more observed the watery expanse that suddenly felt much larger. Rowing to the other side would take a long time.
“Anything else that can kill us here?” He scanned the water, the bank, the reeds in search of other hidden dangers.
“River boars live on our side; they hunted them dead on the other bank ages ago, and the animals know not to go there. They are fierce if you draw too close, but will keep away from us, much like regular boars. Unlike those.” She gestured towards the log with her chin.
Stephan had little experience with wild boars. In fact, what he knew amounted to: if you see one, climb a tree and wait for it to leave.
“Am I supposed to doubt everything you say now, or was that prank a one-time thing?” he asked, keeping his face straight.
“It was a lesson you needed to learn!” Muriel’s jaw tightened, her voice betraying a hint of genuine anger, and Stephan decided to push it further.
“That’s not an answer. My teacher, desperate to see my sweet cheeks, lied to me once. Who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again? That over there might in fact be a strange-shaped log.”
That ought to shut her up with me getting naked in front of her.
“I didn’t lie—”
“Yes, you did,” Stephan interrupted her mid-shout. “You deceived me viciously, with the intent to take advantage of your student.”
Muriel stomped away, Stephan’s words shaming her enough to never take another apprentice.
He followed behind happily, certain he had crushed any further attempts at the topic of his cheeks.
They still had a distance to walk, and Stephan let the time pass in silence. Muriel never once asked Stephan about tracks, though he had noticed dozens of sets along the way. The damp, soft soil teeming with them.
Suddenly, she stopped. A large tangle of bushes rose next to her, no different from many others. Carefully, she unwove the branches, careful not to snap a single twig. Slowly, a sturdy rowboat with two rows of benches, each wide enough to fit two grown men, emerged from the green.
“You look like a strong, strapping lad,” Muriel said with a strange edge to her voice. “Pick it up, I’ll fix the hiding place.”
Stephan stared at the massive thing. That’s gotta weigh at least four hundred pounds.
“Come on. Based on what I’ve seen, you can carry that if you put some effort into it.”
“How about you help me?” Stephan kept his tone neutral, but Muriel shook her head.
“Trackers have poor strength, and I would unbalance you. We usually drag the boats, with the senior Tracker covering up the evidence of the boat’s passage while at the same time teaching the youngsters how to do it. But that takes a lot of time and you’re not ready yet for lessons on hiding tracks. Not until you can read them while walking at a normal pace.”
There was too much glee in her voice for it to be just what she said, but Stephan didn’t press. He knew he was at fault for Muriel’s poor mood, and that she really had been doing her best to teach him the past few days. Instead, he focused on the boat, approached the midpoint, crouched with legs spread wide, and gripped the sides. The wood was rough beneath his palms, slightly damp, smelling faintly of rot and river mud, but offered a firm grip.
“I just lift it up like this?” he asked.
Muriel picked up the four oars and a coil of rope from the boat. “Go ahead.”
Stephan heaved. In a single jerk, the boat tore free of the ground. In a strained motion, he hauled it above his head. His arms trembled instantly, shoulders and elbows screaming, as he turned towards the water.
The weight pressed down on him, forcing him to take fast, sharp breaths.
“Put it one-third into the river, two-thirds out, so it doesn’t float away.” Muriel said casually.
Stephan grit his teeth and staggered forward. His boots sank an inch into the soft earth. Each wobbly step was a barely controlled fall, with the rowboat pushed forward so he wouldn’t drop it on the side. One foot in front of the other, he took twelve steps, then dumped the boat.
The hull hit the mud with a wet thud, sliding into the shallows as water found Stephan’s boots.
“Great job, come here, I’ll show you how to hide the tracks,” Muriel spoke more calmly, Stephan obeying her command mollifying her to an extent. “What you get out of it is up to you.”
She picked up a branch Stephan had snapped while pulling out the boat, then she pushed its base into the bush, so the broken part remained invisible. Carefully, she collected the debris he had left behind and threw it all in. After one final look around, she started working the bush back into place, slower than she could have. Canes twisted under her fingers as she explained what she was doing, and why she was layering the branches the way she was. She didn’t stretch them taut, but let them bend and twist until they looked like a long-dead shrub infested with uneven layers of creepers.
“Hide the pattern,” she said after finishing the job. “The only straight lines you see outdoors are the manmade ones. Now, we have two options for rowing. One is only for you to row, the other is we both row, but you would have to learn how to row in a team. It’s trickier than you’d first think, because you will have to adapt to my pace, which will be different from yours.”
“Which do you believe is better?” Stephan threw her another bone.
“You alone, unless you plan to travel with multiple people rowing a boat. Even then, it’d be better for you to learn with your crew than with me.”
And that was that. A minute later, Stephan was rowing, his back to the other shore, while Muriel was on the lookout, watching for any threats.
“Row a bit more towards your left to compensate for the current.”
Stephan skipped a stroke with the right and completed one with the left, but the boat immediately angled right.
“Wait, wait,” he said quickly, doing the opposite and once more straightening the boat before she could chide him, “I got it.”
He successfully turned the boat and slowly caught the rhythm. By the time he reached the halfway point, he already had a feeling that he knew what he was doing. At the three-quarters mark, he was confident enough not to think about it and could once more speak.
“So, you mentioned Trackers’ strength is poor. What are their strong attributes?” He tried to make small talk.
“Perception,” Muriel said, her eyes never stopping as she scanned the bank and the water, “along with wisdom and intelligence, followed by agility, composure, endurance, and luck.”
She paused, focusing on something for a moment, then her eyes moved, and she continued talking. “I envy you people with brute strength. Trackers can only grow their strength through exercise; the class almost never gives us any. In my twenty-seven levels, I gained three points of strength. It’s a real pain—”
Before she could finish her thought, something big slammed into the boat and flipped it into the air. Drops sprayed everywhere. Muriel’s face contorted between surprise and sudden terror as her eyes locked onto something. Stephan followed her gaze and saw a massive trunk in the water, not a yard away from him.
The trunk’s maw opened, lined with sharp teeth, and headed straight for him as he splashed into the river.