Everyone laughed, though Gruff’s grating chortles rose above all others. This was by far the happiest she’d ever seen him. “Another round!” he proclaimed, and before she could protest, her glass was filled again. “To Miss Perfidy Tress,” the dwarf said, “whose three-leafed face put Jereb in his place!” This earned him a chorus of laughter. Even Mirac grinned a little.

She didn’t really feel like she should be celebrating Jereb’s head wound, but the rest of them insisted and soon her glass was empty again. “I should prolly slow down,” she said. “I’m s’posed to hunt ’shrooms t’night.”

“Don’t worry about that, honey,” Clemmy said. “Strong drink doesn’t affect us as much as regular folks. The godsblood neutralizes it somehow.”

“What she’s tryin’ to say is drink up!” Gruff said, grabbing the bottle and taking a slug before the large man could wrench it back from him, holding it high enough that it was just out of reach of the dwarf.

The fun continued for a while, until a second bottle was retrieved from the storeroom and Perfidy lost count of how many glasses she’d consumed. She felt warm and happy, but still had her wits about her. Soon the others began drifting toward bed, wishing her goodnight and good luck on the ’shroom hunt, until only she and Gruff remained.

“I’m comin’ with you,” the dwarf said, smacking the bottom of the bottle to try to coerce the last few drops out into his mouth. When nothing dripped, he turned it fully upside down and peered up into the shaft. A single drop of ale fell, splashing him right in the eye. He howled and wiped furiously at it.

When he was finished, Perfidy said, “No, yer not.”

“Fine. Have it your way,” he said, stomping away. She thought he was going to leave it at that, but just before he marched through the door, he turned back and said, “Be careful, alright?” and then disappeared inside and slammed it shut.

Perfidy smiled, still feeling that comforting warmth inside her gut. She was tired but didn’t allow herself to rest. As her mother always said, “The only way to get a thing done, is to get it done.” Maybe it was rather obvious advice, and yet Perfidy had always been amazed by how many folks didn’t heed it, putting off things until the last possible moment, when they clung to the edge of disaster.

With that in mind, she started into the woods. From what she could tell, it was already well past midnight, when the night ’shrooms supposedly bloomed—was that the right word? Everything was immediately darker, not a speck of moons or starlight infiltrating the thick forest canopy. She took her time, careful not to let her feet get tangled on any of the numerous roots or vines hidden along the ground, while using her hands to feel herself forward.