The jolt snapped the oar from Crumble’s hands. It spun once, slapped the water, and sank into the foggy dark with a soft bloop!

Everyone froze.

“D-did we hit a log?” Snatch squeaked, his voice wobbling higher than usual.

The next blow came harder, slamming the boat sideways.

Crumble’s cookie tumbled out of his hand and plopped into the lake. He stared at the widening ripples. “Nope,” he whispered.

Thorncoat shrieked about cursed fog, Snatch nearly dropped his sword, and Bjorn crouched at the bow, holding his axe tightly. The boat rocked hard enough to slosh water over the sides. Rowan gripped the edge until it steadied.

“It’s here! The lake beast! I told you, it lives in the fog!” Thorncoat yelled.

“Stay calm!” Snatch puffed out his chest, pointing his sword into the fog. “If it dares show itself, I’ll blind it with my dazzling steel!”

Crumble whimpered, gripping the edge. “I dropped my snack… and I really liked that snack.”

“This is bad, Rowan. We need to move.” Bjorn said firmly.

“You got any ideas?” Rowan asked, looking at Bjorn.

Just then, a shadow slid beneath the surface, and the boat slammed sideways again, hurling everyone into a heap.

Rowan scrambled to his feet, swaying with the rocking boat. “I’m going to try something.”

“Try not dying while you’re at it!” Crumble squealed, hugging the rail.

Rowan raised his hand. Mist coiled around his fingers. “Go!” He yelled, throwing his hand forward.

A blast of wind roared from behind them. The boat shot forward like a skipping stone, slicing through the fog.

Everyone yelped, tumbling backward.

Crumble clung with both arms. “I am NOT ready for this!”

Thorncoat wrapped around Snatch’s leg. “It’s chasing us! I can hear its gills clicking!”

Bjorn braced at the bow. “Faster, Rowan! It’s gaining!”

The lake erupted in white spray.

Something rose out of the water.

Rowan spun and froze.

It was enormous—a long, coiling body with shredded fins like torn sails. The fog swallowed half its face—the beast dove in and out of sight.

“Rowan!” Bjorn’s shout cut through the haze.

Rowan ripped off his cloak and tied it to the splintered pole. He raised his arm and called the wind. The cloak opened wide, swelling into a sail.

The boat exploded forward, skimming the water. Spray glittered around them, and the fog tore apart in streaming sheets.

Behind them, the beast released a howl that rattled Rowan’s ribs. He clenched his jaw and, with one last push, the wind surged. The boat shot forward, slicing through the final wall of fog and bursting into daylight.

The hull scraped against mud with a teeth-grinding crunch. The boat tipped, dumping everyone into a soggy heap of cloaks, boots, and tangled limbs.

Rowan sprawled flat on his back, staring up at the sky. His heart thundered like a drum, but he was alive. They all were. Somehow.

Crumble sat up, spitting a glob of muck. “Blegh! Mud. It tastes like sadness.”

Snatch groaned from where he lay face-first in the reeds. His floppy hat dangled from a branch above, drooping like a defeated flag. “My glorious feather…”

Thorncoat perched miserably on a rock, clutching his pouch of salt to his chest like a life raft. “I told you! Tentacle shadows! I told you!”

Bjorn rose slowly, water streaming from his hair. “Everyone in one piece?”

Rowan wiped water from his eyes and nodded. “More or less.”

The Banditleaf Trio stood, dripping and pitiful, looking less like fearsome bandits and more like half-drowned alley cats.

Snatch grabbed his hat, smacked it against his leg, and slapped it back on with soggy determination. “Well! That was a thrilling near-death experience. As your temporary leader, I declare we’ve all learned a valuable lesson.”

“Never trust fog,” Crumble muttered.

“Never eat snacks on a haunted lake,” Thorncoat added with grave seriousness.

“Never listen to Thorncoat!” Snatch snapped.

The three glared at one another in a silent standoff, then, as if by an unspoken agreement, they turned and ran into the forest.

“We’ll be baaaaack!” All three shrieked in perfect harmony.

Rowan watched them until they faded into the trees. Silence slowly crept back in, broken by the sigh of the wind and the soft ripple of water against the shore.

“Hey, look at this,” Bjorn said, pointing into the forest.

A narrow path wound between the trees, leading straight toward what looked like an old village. 

Rowan rubbed his chin. “Hmm… I don’t remember seeing a village here on any maps.”

Then, from beyond the trees, a bell rang.