Rowan gripped the wooden ladder as though it would buck him at any second. The whole thing shook in the breeze as he carefully inched his way down, toward the treetops swaying beneath him. Bjorn, of course, had no patience for slow descents. He skipped the last few rungs entirely and launched himself into the air.

Whump!

He landed in a springy bed of moss. “See? That was easy!” he shouted up to Rowan, who could barely hear him.

Rowan rolled his eyes but kept climbing. 

Step. Breathe. Step. Don’t look down. He kept thinking to himself.

Rowan’s boots touched down at last, sinking into the springy moss without a sound. He turned to Bjorn, who, of course, stood there with his arms folded like it was nothing.

“Show-off,” Rowan joked, though relief still lingered in his voice.

“Took you long enough. Come on, the forest’s not gonna explore itself.” Bjorn smirked and started down the narrow trail. Rowan quickly tightened his satchel and hurried after him.

“You ready?” Bjorn asked, looking down at the trail.

Rowan gave a firm nod. “Let’s go find out what’s waiting.”

The clearing around the tower didn’t last long. In only a few steps, the path plunged beneath a heavy canopy. The sunlight broke into golden beams across the mossy ground, painting the ground in stripes that swayed with the wind. The deeper they went, the cooler it became. 

Rowan’s ears pricked. “Do you hear that?”

A soft sound floated through the stillness: the delicate jingle of bells, joined by a faint moo. 

They rounded a bend and froze when they saw a man leading a herd of creatures unlike anything Rowan had ever seen. Each was the size of a big dog but shaped like a shaggy cow, with fluffy coats that bounced as they trotted. Stubby horns glimmered faintly in the sun. One plopped into a pile of leaves with a squeaky snort. Another spun in clumsy circles, chasing its own tail. Rowan burst out laughing before he could stop himself.

“What are those?” he whispered.

Bjorn grinned from ear to ear. “No clue. But I want one.”

The man guiding them wore a wide-brimmed reed hat and a patched cloak stitched with fading greens and golds. His wooden staff had a bell on the top that rang each time it hit the ground. His beard spilled down like hanging moss, and his boots looked as though they’d marched through every swamp in the Ardentia.

“Ahh,” the man said, his voice rough and creaky like old branches. “Didn’t expect to find travelers here.”

Rowan straightened. “We’re headed for the ruins.”

“The old soldier’s fort?” the man asked, raising one shaggy eyebrow.

“That must be the one,” Bjorn said. “We spotted it from the tower.”

The man’s staff gave a soft jingle as he shifted it in his hands. “Not many dare go near that place anymore.”

Rowan shot Bjorn a nervous look, but Bjorn only raised his eyebrows, grinning like this was getting interesting.

The man chuckled. “The King’s army once kept soldiers in that fort. They kept the roads safe, and the woods peaceful. But when the King vanished, the soldiers scattered, and the place has been left to chaos ever since. I wouldn’t—”

MOO!

One of the creatures cut him off with a squeaky huff. It waddled up and shoved its nose into the moss at his feet, snuffling so noisily that Rowan burst out laughing.

Rowan bent slightly. “What are those?” he asked.

The man’s beard twitched with a chuckle. He tapped his staff on the ground, the bell jingling softly as the creatures snuffled closer.

“Snufflemoots,” he said. “That’s what folk call ’em. Fluffy little grazers, gentle as spring lambs, though stubborn as a mule if you cross ’em. Been with me since they were no bigger than a loaf of bread.”

As if on cue, one Snufflemoot sneezed, sending a spray of moss into the air, while another immediately tried to eat it. The man’s eyes crinkled in amusement. 

Then, another Snufflemoot gave a startled squeal and bolted into the trees, its shaggy coat bouncing like a runaway cloud. A few others barreled after it, horns glowing as they vanished into the underbrush.

“Ah, blast it!” the man groaned, hobbling after them. The bell clinked wildly with every hurried step.

He shot a glance over his shoulder. “Mind yourselves, boys! Don’t go pokin’ at things that look eager to be found.”

With that, he disappeared into the ferns, swallowed by shadows and jingling echoes.