The rabbit had, against all reasonable expectations, developed a sort of strategy, now that it had met actual resistance. It would bounce off one wall, attack, ricochet off Reyn’s sword, use Jarek as a springboard, and then disappear into the rafters before anyone could react. This had been going on for ten minutes, and everyone involved was getting tired except the rabbit, which seemed to be powered by pure malice and violence.

  ?New plan,? Reyn said, wiping blood from a scratch on her cheek. She felt the scratches and wounds burning on her skin, not daring to pull more of her Rage when her companions were trapped with her. She wasn’t healed enough to fight a Frenzy just yet, and she didn’t want to risk it. ?We trap it.?

  ?With what?? Venn asked, her quarterstaff now missing a significant chunk where the rabbit had bitten through it like a carrot. ?Our dignity? Because that’s already gone.?

  ?The vegetables,? Jarek said, looking surprised himself. He’d climbed onto a beam to escape the rabbit’s latest assault and was pointing at the pile in the corner. ?It bloody collected them. It must care about them.?

  The rabbit’s ears swiveled toward him with the focus of something that understood exactly what was being suggested and didn’t appreciate it one bit.

  ?Worth a try,? Reyn said, moving toward the vegetable pile.

  The rabbit’s chittering rose to a pitch of deep personal offense. It launched itself at Reyn with renewed fury, but this time she was ready. Instead of blocking, she sidestepped and grabbed a large turnip.

  ?No!? she said firmly, holding the turnip hostage. ?Bad rabbit!?

  The rabbit froze mid-leap, landing with surprisingly smooth on a nearby barrel. Its pink eyes fixed on the turnip with an expression of genuine distress.

  ?That’s right,? Reyn continued, feeling slightly absurd but committed to the approach. ?You stop trying to murder us, or the turnip gets it.?

  ?Are we really negotiating with a rabbit with… produce?? Venn whispered.

  ?You have a better idea??

  The rabbit sat back on its haunches, nose twitching furiously. It made a series of small sounds that might have been cursing in whatever language rabbits spoke when they weren’t busy being adorable killing machines.

  ?Good,? Reyn said, slowly lowering the turnip. ?Now we’re going to—?

  The barn door burst open with a dramatic timing as if the universe had been waiting for the worst possible moment.

  ?Stand back, citizens!? boomed a voice that belonged to someone who’d practiced booming. ?The noble houses of Valemark have come to slay the beast!?

  A hunting party flooded into the barn, at least fifteen people in elaborate colorful hunting attire that looked more suitable for a parade than actual beast-fighting. They carried crossbows, spears, and enough confidence to fill several normal-sized egos.

  ?Lord Pemberton of House Goldmeadow,? announced the lead figure, a man whose mustache seemed to have a personality of its own. ?We’ve tracked the beast to this—?

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He stopped, taking in the scene: three disheveled people, one holding a turnip threateningly, facing off against a fluffy white rabbit.

  ?Is that…?? began one of the hunters.

  ?It can’t be,? said another.

  ?It is,? Lord Pemberton said, his voice losing several degrees of boom. ?It is a rabbit.?

  The rabbit, perhaps sensing an opportunity in the confusion, made its move. It bounced off the wall with the speed of crossbow bolt, heading straight for the crowded doorway.

  ?Fire!? someone shouted, because of course someone did.

  The barn filled with the whistle of crossbow bolts, the shouts of panicked nobles, and the triumphant chittering of one exceptionally violent rabbit that plowed through the crowd that wasn’t protected by a Bormecian Barbarian. Bolts embedded themselves in walls, barrels, and at least one unfortunate ham that had been hanging from the rafters.

  Reyn grabbed Venn and pulled her behind Good Deeds, using the massive blade as a shield. The rabbit had turned the hunting party’s entrance into its exit, bouncing between hunters’ heads like they were particularly ugly stepping stones, clawing and biting any and all it could touch.

  ?It’s getting away!? Lord Pemberton cried.

  ?After it!? shouted someone else.

  The hunting party surged back out the door in pursuit, leaving chaos in their wake. Dust settled slowly in the sudden quiet.

  ?Well,? Jarek said from his perch on the beam, ?that could have gone worse.?

  Which was, naturally, when things got worse.

  The beam, already weakened by rabbit claws and the impact of several stray crossbow bolts, gave a sound like an old man’s joints on a cold morning. Then several other sounds that wood shouldn’t make.

  ?Jarek, move!? Venn shouted.

  He tried. But moving quickly had never been Jarek’s strong suit, and the beam had other plans. It split with a crack that sounded like divine judgment on poor carpentry. Jarek fell, arms windmilling in a way that would have been comedic if not for what happened next.

  He landed badly. Very badly. The kind of badly that made both Reyn and Venn freeze and grimace for a moment, hoping their eyes were lying.

  ?Ow,? Jarek said, looking down at the splintered beam section protruding from his chest. ?That’s… that’s not good, is it??

  Venn rushed forward, hands already glowing blue. But even as she knelt beside him, they all knew. Some things couldn’t be healed. Some falls couldn’t be recovered from. Sometimes, it was just the end, simple as that.

  ?It’s alright,? Jarek said, his voice surprisingly calm for someone in his situation. ?I was never very good at the running and fighting anyway. More of a counting person.?

  ?Don’t talk,? Venn said, though tears were already streaming down her face. ?Save your strength.?

  ?For what? The long journey ahead?? Jarek actually smiled, showing bloodied teeth. ?I’ve been remembering things, you know. Little pieces. I had a garden once. Grew the most mediocre vegetables you’ve ever seen. My wife always said… said…?

  His face scrunched in concentration, even now trying to remember.

  ?She said something. About...? He coughed, which was a mistake. ?Tell her… tell her I died doing something heroic.?

  ?You fell off a beam,? Reyn said with a comforting tone.

  ?Tell her I died doing something heroic while fighting a rabbit,? Jarek amended. ?No, don’t mention the rabbit. Tell her it was a dragon. A small dragon. A medium-sized dragon??

  Reyn kneeled and smiled. ?The Beast of Valemark.?

  ?Yes, that sounds good.? Jarek’s voice was fading, but he kept talking, because that’s what Jarek did.

  ?I remembered I was afraid of horses. That was true. Still am. Does Death ride a horse? That would be unfortunate…?

  And then, still midway through contemplating dying, Jarek stopped. Not dramatically, not with any final words of wisdom. Just stopped, like a clock that had finally wound down.

  Outside, they could hear the hunting party shouting about the rabbit’s escape. Inside, the barn felt very quiet and very full of the absence of someone who’d never quite remembered who he was but had tried to help anyway.

  ?We should tell his wife,? Venn said.

  ?We don’t know who she is,? Reyn said.

  ?We’ll find a way.? Venn’s jaw set with determination. ?He deserves that much. Everyone deserves to be mourned by someone who threw pots at their head for looking at barmaids’ ankles.?

  Reyn nodded, looking down at Jarek’s still form. He’d died as randomly as he’d lived with them, but somehow that felt appropriate. Not every death needed to be meaningful. Sometimes people just fell off beams at the wrong moment.

  But that didn’t mean they’d be forgotten.

  Reyn nodded to herself, and picked up Jarek’s limp body.

  ?What are you doing?? Venn said.

  ?Taking him to the Temple,? Reyn said. ?If there’s any magic or spell or enchanted whatever that might help us find out who his wife is, they ought to know.?

  Outside, Lord Pemberton was loudly claiming victory over the beast despite it having escaped completely unharmed. The sun was setting, painting everything golden, including the blood on the barn floor.

  It had been, Reyn reflected, a very strange day.