“Shim brings Errol with him, why shouldn’t I bring Morg?”

Right on cue, a furry head popped free of the satchel’s mouth. The creature was about the size of a full-grown rabbit, but resembled more of a rodent, with small ears, round golden eyes, and a puffball tail that flowed behind it as it moved. Its forehead was adorned with a single golden leaf, and it was general belief that this was the limit for such a creature in terms of progressing its power. It was called a Morgoth, though most Forsworn believed it had once been a chipmunk that had been transformed over years of exposure to Narcissi’s godsblood.

He, for the creature was a male, cocked his head to the side and said, “Morg?” in a strangely croaky voice that, surprisingly, suited him. It was the only word he could say, which wasn’t for lack of trying to teach him others on Soraya’s part. She quickly fed him a dandelion, one of his favorite treats, though he was willing to eat almost any sort of flower.

“I should never have let you keep that thing as a pet.”

“Let me? Must I remind you that I now outrank you, Father? Anyway, Morg isn’t my pet, he’s my friend. And also my helper. He’ll be able to assist me in infiltrating enemy encampments without being seen.”

“Until he’s exposed to godsblood.”

Soraya cringed. Morgoth had a rather dangerous tendency to slurp down copious amounts of godsblood and then transform from cute, cuddly furballs into deranged, fanged and clawed monsters. “Morg knows better than that. It’s been over a year since the last ‘incident’.”

“Knows better, huh?”

“Yes, of course, don’t you, Mor—oh gods!” As she reached down to nuzzle the creature’s head, she found her satchel lighter by the weight of her pet. Instead, Morg was scampering toward the pool of godsblood with an eager spring in each bounding leap. Soraya, with her longer legs, was quicker, dashing after him and scooping the creature up in one hand before depositing him back in the satchel, twisting the ties a bit tighter to seal him inside.

“Morg?” came his muffled voice through the material.

She felt her cheeks pinken as she met her father’s raised-eyebrow expression. “Just be careful. The last thing we need is a scandal. Much of our success depends on our activities being of a more…clandestine…nature.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” She was about to head off but gave in to one final impulse to hug her father again, before bounding away with almost as much vigor as Morg. “Goodbye!”

A wall of rock blocked the way forward, but she headed for a slightly darker patch entangled with vines and bushes. She used both hands to wade through the foliage, entering a dark tunnel. She was rather shocked to find the walls, floor and even ceiling glistening with golden godsblood.