Ian stared out at the Field before him and absent-mindedly played with his belt buckle. The land seemed darker today, as if something sinister had taken the world into its hands and squeezed. He briefly wondered if this feeling was some sort of omen, but he dismissed the thought, telling himself that he was being ridiculous.

"Hey, Ian?" a voice said from behind his shoulder. Ian turned and looked at Anthony. "Think you can stop daydreaming so we can get moving?"

Ian's eyelids lowered partway. "Think you can get the cart packed any slower?"

Anthony exhaled sharply and glanced back at the cart. Ian followed his gaze and was pleased to see that it was finally fully loaded. "If you weren't such a bitch about helping, maybe we'd have been done sooner."

Ian didn't reply. He instead walked towards his horse and patted her neck. "Ready to go, girl?" he asked.

The horse whinnied softly; Ian liked to think that she was saying yes. He checked to make sure that her straps to the cart were secured properly and then climbed onto her back.

"That's right," Anthony said from atop his own horse, his tone snarky. "Ride that girl."

Ian shot Anthony a look. "What's up with you today?" he asked, fighting a smile. "You're more annoying than usual."

Anthony grinned and then faced forward. Ian watched him for a moment longer before doing the same. With many years' experience guiding their movements, they started their horses forward at the same time and began the long journey through the Field.

"Think we'll get any action this time around?" Anthony asked. He sounded excited.

"Probably not," Ian responded, though his earlier feeling returned and he wasn't so sure.

"Either way, I've got my bow ready."

Ian checked to make sure that his sword was strapped to his left hip. The memory of the time he had forgotten it flashed through his mind and he winced—how they had survived that situation, he would never know.

They didn't speak for several minutes, the only sounds being the clop of the horses' hooves and the creak of the cart's wheels. Going out into the Field always made Ian feel somewhat uncomfortable; he didn't like being so exposed and vulnerable. Anything could sneak up on them and they could hardly maneuver properly with the cart attached to their horses. They were, however, the best at what they did, and so he hid his anxiety and pushed forward.

"Peahat larva to the east," Anthony announced suddenly, drawing his bow. Ian glanced in a full circle for any sign of the large peahat that couldn't be far from its young while Anthony pulled an arrow from his quiver and prepared himself to shoot. Ian couldn't see anything besides the one larva.

"Should I shoot?" Anthony asked.

"Not yet," Ian answered. "I can't see anything else around—it may not even come for us."

"C'mon, Ian." Anthony flashed a grin. "We need to have some fun."

"Anthony, don't."

Anthony ignored Ian and took aim.

"Seriously, what if—?" It was too late. The arrow flitted through the air and struck the larva to the ground. Anthony whooped triumphantly while Ian felt his grip on his horse's reins tighten.

The area was silent for a moment. The two men stared at the horizon, waiting to see if anything would happen.

"You see, Ian?" Anthony asked. "Nothing. It was by itself."

Ian shot Anthony an irritated look. He loved him like a brother, but at times he felt ready to strangle him. "Don't you remember what happened last time?" he demanded. "We could have started a…" He trailed off when a loud buzz filled the air.

Anthony's posture stiffened and his gaze flickered back to where the larva had fallen. There, rising from the ground, blades spinning, was a full sized peahat.

"Damn it, Anthony!" Ian growled, flicking the reins. His horse sped; Anthony's followed suit.

Anthony readied his bow a second time.

"What are you doing?" Ian tried to catch Anthony's arm but couldn't quite reach. "You'll only piss it off more!"

The arrow flew and struck; Ian wished that Anthony was a worse shot, as the peahat's wild spinning seemed to get more violent. And then there it was—the horror that Ian had been hoping to avoid: several peahat larvae rose from the ground and sped towards the two men, small but lethal blades shining in the sunlight.

"Shit," Anthony spat, drawing another arrow.

"We can't outrun them," Ian shouted as the horses' galloping became louder and faster. "We'll have to fight."

Anthony let the arrow go and swore when it missed his target. He drew another. "Are you good for that?" he called back.

"Like I have a damn choice." Ian put his hand over the hilt of his blade and took a deep breath. A moment later he leapt from his horse's back and hit the ground at just the right angle, rolling to his feet and drawing his weapon. He glanced at Anthony, who was leading the horses into a wide arc around the monsters, arrows flying from his direction. Ian then looked back at his adversaries, who flew forward with terrible vigilance, and raised his sword to fight.