Against all logic, Francis’ gamble had paid off. His Kinetic Strike ability had converted the damage into distance. But there was one tiny little problem, which was quickly turning into a much bigger problem. Specifically, a Dark Forest sized problem.

  I sure hope I find something soft to land on, Francis thought to himself as he descended toward a clearing, Because if I don’t, this is really going to suck.

  ***

  Not-Wolfe had finally reached his breaking point. If things went on this way for much longer, he was going to bite someone.

  Also-Not-Wolfie finished his prayer with a rousing “Oorah!” and looked up at the sky expectantly. He wasn’t sure how Francis would guide them to safety, but he remained hopeful.

  “Alright! Enough with the god bothering!” Not-Wolfie stood up, lashing his tail back and forth with frustration. “We should try to find our own way out before something comes along and eats us.”

  “I don’t know,” Wolfie said as he turned to watch the sky, “It might just be because I’m a paladin, but I like the prayers.”

  “But they don’t work!” Not-Wolfie said miserably. Then the dire wolf remembered their first run in with divine intervention. That paladin had been tasty, and perfectly cooked.

  “At least, they don’t work all the time,” he corrected himself, before looking down at the ground.

  Not-Wolfie couldn’t help but be skeptical. After all, if gods were real and granted powers to their followers, why didn’t he have a class yet? Surely he was much more worthy of divine gifts than his pack-mates. They were idiots. And he was (if he was being completely honest) a bit less of an idiot. Either way, it made no sense that a god would pick them over him.

  I sure wish a god would choose me for once, Not-Wolfie thought as he turned to walk off into the forest. But he didn’t get very far, because Francis landed on him.

  ***

  Not-Wolfie woke up feeling like he had been hit by a meteor. And if meteors wore blue Hawaiian print shirts and snored like diesel generators, he would have been right. The Marine in question had also wrapped his arms around Not-Wolfie to use him as a pillow, much to the dire wolf’s annoyance.

  “Who the hell is that?” Not-Wolfie asked as he struggled to free himself. “And why aren’t you eating him?”

  Also-Not-Wolfie looked at his pack-mate in horror. “That’s Francis. I could never eat Francis!”

  Not-Wolfie blinked in surprise. “Wait, you’re telling me that the guy using me for a pillow is a god?”

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  “Yeah,” Wolfie chimed in between bites of popcorn. “And get this. Not only did Francis show up to answer our prayers personally, he even brought snacks! What a guy, right?”

  There was a moment of silence as Not-Wolfie processed this new information. He looked at the bag of popcorn, then down at the Marine who had him in a headlock. Clumsy alchemists and beast riders falling from the sky was a fairly common occurrence (though the alchemists tended to arrive piece by piece, instead of all at once). But oddly specific requests being granted within minutes was something he had a hard time rationalizing.

  If that was true, Not-Wolfie would be stuck on pillow duty for the foreseeable future (which was about an hour, dire wolves were bad at keeping track of time). Of course, there was still one very important question that needed to be answered in the meantime.

  He pointed at the bag of popcorn with his nose. “Hey, Wolfie. Can I have some of that?”

  “Sure,” Wolfie replied as he tossed the bag over.

  Not-Wolfie gratefully accepted the popcorn. Besides the occasional unlucky bard or traveler, food had become increasingly rare in the last few weeks. Some of that could be explained by the arrival of the orcs, but the smaller mammals and birds seemed to have disappeared as well.

  The dire wolf’s train of thought was interrupted by a sandal bumping against his leg. He looked down at the Marine using him as a pillow. One of Francis’ feet was kicking the air.

  Huh, thought the dire wolf as he ate his snack, I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

  ***

  Skullgnash wandered through a bloody maze, his hooves squishing indistinguishable bits of gore that had once been his fellow demons. He needed to find a portal out of the dream realm before the Bad Man returned.

  That was what the other demons called their tormentor, the Bad Man. The demons didn’t know who he was, or how he held such great power over the dream realm. But their delight at finding a victim to consume had quickly turned to terror when they realized that they were the ones being hunted.

  Normally it was easy to consume the minds of sleeping dreamers. People were at their most vulnerable when they slept, after all. But this one had proved to be more than they could handle.

  One by one, the Bad Man had picked them off. He never slowed. He never retreated. The Bad Man simply continued to pursue them with bloodyminded determination. And they could not escape him. There was no escaping from the Bad Man.

  The demon stopped and perked up his ears, listening for the strange music that signaled the arrival of the Bad Man. There wasn’t any thrumming bass or screaming guitars, so he figured he was safe for now. But his ears had picked up something else in the distance.

  Skullgnash crept toward the source of the noise, hoping to find safety in numbers. Eventually he encountered a fire demon and an imp having a heated argument. Skullgnash decided to wait and see how things resolved before he made his entrance. Demons were notorious backstabbers, and he had enough problems already.

  “Leave this place, imp. The sleeper is mine!” shouted a demon wreathed in living flame.

  “Shut up! Shut up!” squeaked the imp, “He’ll hear you!”

  Two more fire demons lumbered over to see what all the fuss was about. Skullgnash listened from down the hall as the imp tried to warn the newcomers about the Bad Man, but they ignored him. They refused to believe that a dreamer was capable of hunting demons.

  That was when Skullgnash decided to put as much distance as possible between himself and the fire demons. They were too hot-headed to survive, and the noise they were making would draw the Bad Man straight to them. The imp might manage to slip away in the chaos, but the others were as good as dead.

  Skullgnash tried to be quiet at first, but he broke into a sprint when he heard the first few riffs of music echo down the corridor. The Bad Man was coming.

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