Ranger of Path

12. Second Chance

Circle and slash for blue

And try to tell the truth

Tap nose with finger up

And white will honor you

Point down and pinch for green

And promise to protect

Right thumb against forehead

And red desires you

An A in a circle

And black has your contract

—Kelsa Sticknot

A small incline in the road ahead slows Ishkur's mule as the makeshift litter she drags snags on roots and rocks.

Halfway.

"Come on, Daisey."

Ishkur tugs on the animal's harness, and the trio of trailing girl-ghouls crouch behind him in the mule's shadow. He rubs his finger nubs and grimaces.

Safespot's too far at this rate.

The eldest ghoul smiles. Mouth framed by a well-proportioned face atop an elegant neck, she could have grown into a real beauty.

He smiles back. "I can see your mother in you."

"How far?" Her lips curl away from needle-tipped teeth and a long tongue.

"A few more yules to go."

We won't make it before dark.

Daisey jerks her head to the side to bite some tall grass. The three bald monsters hiss and giggle, and Ishkur grips the sharp shovel strapped to the sun side of the mule.

"Calm down girls, or I'll wake your dear mother with a whack." He loosens a strap.

"She must sleep," the ghouls say in one voice.

Braving the late afternoon sun, they surround the long bundle on the broken door his mule pulls.

I should be sure Kelsa's really in there ... He rubs an ear tip. Aura reading, as an outer skill, could be as easy for me as healing was.

Ishkur pokes, pinches, and holds his breath. Align. His eyes glow with lime light, and his head throbs. Aura. He jerks, and the world grays like it does when using his mystic helmet's aura effect. Any major motion blurs everything.

At the prone door, the three ghoulish daughters radiate darkness with only tints of color buried in their core.

What skill could possibly heal these aberrant souls?

Mayp, the pop-eyed youngest, has a little more light than the others.

At least Whisana's friend has the best chance.

The roll of blankets and rugs is pitch black.

Ms Sticknot, hued like a true demon of Pit and beyond aid.

He shuts his eyes and gasps.

How can I make this work?

A crow caws, and he unstraps his shovel from Daisey. "Sorry ravishing girls, I need to leave your ... matriarch here."

The ghouls crowd closer to their bundled mother, blending mewling with hisses.

Cute as slithering kittens.

He curls his lip. "Give me space; enough to unharness."

Snapping their teeth, they say as one, "A trick!" The eldest scampers forward. "A trick!"