Sheep’s Clothing

Lae'zel didn’t say anything more as we made our way back up the slope. Her posture was tight, almost formal, like she was locking the moment away behind discipline. But I could feel it—the shift. Something tender had cracked open beneath all that pride.

Back at camp, Karlach was flipping rations with the flat of her axe, toasting them over a small fire. She glanced up as we approached, gave Lae’zel a quick once-over, then grinned at me. “You two vanish in a panic and stroll back like old pals. Everything good?”

“We’re fine,” I said. “Just working out the cultural differences.”

Lae’zel didn’t rise to the bait. She moved past the fire without comment and began checking her gear with a deliberate focus. Shadowheart watched her, then looked to me, one brow arched.

“She’s quiet,” Shadowheart murmured.

“She’s working out some stuff,” I replied.

Karlach stretched her arms overhead, flames pulsing lazily in her chest. “So what’s the plan, boss? Still heading for Ethel’s?”

I nodded. “If we move now, we can make it to her grove before nightfall.”

Shadowheart slung her pack over one shoulder. “Why do you want to visit that old potion-seller, is her tea really worth traveling for four days?.”

“Trust me on this,” I said. “... we’ll need a little help. Her kind of help.”

Shadowheart gave me a long stare. "Okay, if you are so adamant there must be a good reason,"

Oh yeah, I was definitely getting somewhere with her.

Karlach observed us, oddly silent.

By the time the fire was stamped out and camp packed up, Lae’zel was already at the edge of the trees, waiting. She didn’t look back, just started walking.

We followed her south.

The land beyond the blighted village slowly shifted from rot to something more pleasant. Ancient trees scattered around the path, sunshine seemed to follow us as we walked, birds chirping, the greenery almost seemed to faintly glow in it's vibrancy.

We moved in a loose line, with Lae’zel up front, her movements sharp, scanning for enemies in hiding. Shadowheart walked beside me, eyes flicking to the side every so often like she was still reading the emotional weather. Karlach took rear, humming quietly, tapping the haft of her axe against her shoulder with every few steps. It was nostalgic.

As we followed the road and get closer to the edge of her grove it was a picture perfect version of a quaint forest.

“Auntie Ethel's domain starts here.” I said

“This is the place?” Karlach asked curiouly. "it looks like something straight out of a fairytale,"

"Isn't it a bit off?" Shadowheart enquired

“Yes, watch out for traps,” I said as we stepped into the narrowing path.

“What traps?” Karlach exclaimed, stopping mid-stride.

I moved ahead carefully. “The kind that gets you when you’re admiring the scenery.”

I knew this stretch—I'd memorized the layout from the game. The path was dotted with hidden spikes, rigged pits, and tripwires just waiting to shred anyone too enchanted by the soft glow of the undergrowth. It looked peaceful, even pastoral... and that was the point.

A small herd of wooly sheep grazed along the edge of the trail, their eyes blank, and calm as they watched us pass. The girls slowed.

“She has sheep?” Shadowheart asked warily.

“Not quite,” I murmured. “Redcaps in disguise.”

“****-fey?” Lae’zel asked, already reaching for her weapon.

“Bloodthirsty little bastards,” I confirmed. “But they won’t move unless provoked. Ethel’s way of saying ‘welcome.’ I suppose”

Karlach gave them a wide berth, muttering, “She’s got killer sheep. That’s new. How the hells do you ev—”

“It’s in their eyes” I quickly answered. It wasn’t.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart nodded in unison.

Karlach studied the she sheep curiously "they're watching like they are waiting for something.."

I nodded, eyes forward. "Then let's not give them a reason"

The way ahead turned slow and uneasy. Every step had to be deliberate—roots twisted across the trail, muddy ground threatening to steal boots, and the redcap-disguised sheep watched our every movement with unsettling stillness. Despite the care we took, we made progress. Painfully slow progress.

And yet… the sun didn’t move.

The sky above remained painted in that same midday brightness as when we entered. No breeze. No birdsong. Just the occasional buzz of a mosquito and the mangled "BAAaaaaH" from the "sheep"

“It’s like walking through soup,” Karlach muttered, hauling one boot from a thick patch of mud.

“A soup that might bite you,” Shadowheart added, ducking beneath a dangling vine that looked suspiciously like a noose.

Eventually, the dense foliage parted to reveal something so out of place it made the entire party stop in unison.

A house.

Not a hut or a shack, but a full, two-story wooden house—warm light glowing through its windows, soft curls of smoke drifting from a crooked chimney. Shutters painted pale green, a little garden out front (complete with every herb unimaginable to man), and a faint scent of clove and honey wafting from somewhere unseen. It looked impossibly cozy.

And standing on the porch, wiping her hands on a floral apron, was Auntie Ethel herself. Short, smiling, hair slightly unkempt.

“Well, now,” she said, voice syrup-sweet and just a little scratchy. “Aren’t you lot a sight. You’re just in time for tea.”