A mercenary tossed an axe at Houshao'nao. "Boss wants you to chop firewood—as much as you can."
"Yes, yes, right away." Houshao'nao grabbed the axe and led the donkey toward the nearby woods.
"Heh, the youngest grand magician in magic history reduced to chopping wood," the donkey jeered, munching grass as it watched him strain to swing the axe.
"Hmph, this is all your fault! If not for your seal, would I be in this sorry state?" Houshao'nao snapped.
"Me? Bah! You're the despicable despicable one—lost the fight, so you used dirty tricks. Disgraceful…" the donkey retorted.
"Please. I'm despicable? At least I didn't pretend to be human to trick a girl, then try to force myself on her when exposed—*you* did that, you shameless lizard…"
"Shameless? Fine, maybe I am, but you're no better! A hypocrite pretending to be a saint—" The donkey froze as Houshao'nao hefted a massive pile of firewood. "W-what are you doing?"
"Making you carry it, idiot." Houshao'nao grinned maliciously.
"Nope. I agreed to carry *you*, not wood." The donkey circled, evading the wood.
"Fine, I'll carry it myself." Houshao'nao shrugged, eyes flicking sideways. "Though, funny how much wood I chopped. Maybe I'll suggest to Boss Jon we have donkey stew tonight."
"*Donkey stew*? Ha, very funny… wait—you wouldn't eat *me*? Great magician, you need me to carry wood, right? I'll help!" the donkey backtracked, panicked.
"Changed your mind so quickly? Dragons are the most untrustworthy creatures—now I see why," Houshao'nao sneered, piling the wood onto the donkey's back.
The donkey rolled its eyes, nearly collapsing. *A human saying fits perfectly here: "Bringing ruin on oneself is beyond redemption."*
After dinner, Jon gathered the mercenaries to assign night watches. Houshao'nao drew the midnight shift.
"Crap, the worst time. Once you miss sleep, you're up for good," he grumbled inwardly, hiding his irritation.
Night wore on. At midnight, the moon rose. A mercenary shook him awake. Yawning, he stumbled up.
"So cold…" The moment he left the fire, the night wind bit through his clothes.
"Stay away—don't lean on me," the donkey snapped, shuffling aside.
"C'mon, we'll keep each other warm." Houshao'nao circled it persistently.
"Scram! I won't cozy up with a despicable magician." The donkey sidestepped again.
"Hmph, big deal. Your hide's thicker than my face, is that it?"
"Bah! My hide's thick, but your shamelessness is thicker."
"Yours isn't thin either—"
"Shh!" The donkey flicked its ears, cutting him off. "I hear approaching footsteps. Go warn the others."
"Really? Or are you lying?" Houshao'nao hesitated.
"Believe what you want. I've no reason to trick you." The donkey snorted.
"Fine, I'll humor you." He shuffled toward the fire.
Watching his lazy stride, the donkey felt a rare confusion: *Idiot! Danger's inches away, and he's acting like a stroll. What a strange creature.*
Houshao'nao crept to Jon's side. Before he could tap the man's shoulder, a dagger pressed to his neck.
"Houshao'nao? What do you want?" Jon hissed.
"Boss, we're surrounded," Houshao'nao whispered, pale.
By firelight, Jon listened, then nodded, withdrawing the blade. "Good. Alert Tony and the others to flank them. I'll draw their attention."
"Be careful, Boss," Houshao'nao murmured, worried.
"Hmph, survived worse than this." Jon clapped his shoulder—a rare show of camaraderie that warmed Houshao'nao. *Besides Betty, no one's touched me like this, not even Master Kerry.* He watched Jon's tall figure vanish into darkness, a strange warmth in his chest.
He roused the mercenaries swiftly, then informed the caravan boss.
"Who dares disturb our camp?" Jon's shout cut through the night.
Fires died instantly, plunging the camp into moonlit gloom.
"Ha! Heard a fine cargo heads for Mecca Town. We'll take half—no more," a rough voice barked from the shadows.
"Half? Your greed's bigger than your guts. My sword disagrees—so do my men." Jon's voice dripped ice.
"Damn it! Attack,brothers!"
"Then come—we'll await you." Jon retreated as cries of "Kill!" erupted.
Arrows whistled from the camp. Shadows fell, pierced by bolts, but others pressed on, using darkness as cover.
"Ah! Watch the spikes—" a thief yelled, tripping into a pit. Screams followed as more fell into the trap. A torch flew, revealing their terrified faces before arrows silenced them.
"Curse you, mercenaries! I'll slaughter you all!" the thief leader roared, but no more dared approach.
Jon regrouped the men. "We're surrounded. Break out before dawn, or we're dead. I'll scout a weak point. Once on the main road, our speed will lose them."
"But which way, Boss?"
"Don't fear. I'll—"
"I say surrender. Give them the cargo—" a mercenary interrupted.
*Slash.*
"Ah! Why—?"
"Traitor. He's a spy." Jon wiped his sword, cold-eyed. "No objections?"
"Boss, well done! Knew he was shifty," Houshao'nao piped up first, eyes gleaming. The others nodded reluctantly.
The caravan boss, eager to save his goods, praised Jon's plan.
"Houshao'nao, your donkey's slow—stay in the middle of the caravan," Jon ordered.
"Boss, are you sure…?" Houshao'nao protested weakly, thrilled inside: *No magic, no combat skills—better to run than fight.*
"Don't flatter yourself. You'd just hold us back," Tony scoffed.
"Not like that. He's a magician—should stay protected, right?" Jon glared at Tony.
"Boss, no need to explain. I know I'm useless. Honestly, I almost ran earlier, but didn't have the guts," Houshao'nao admitted, sheepish.
"Haha! You're a riot," Tony laughed.
By now, the mercenaries had set aside their mockery—Houshao'nao's warning had saved them, though none knew it was the *donkey's* doing.
Jon drew his sword. "Charge!"
The caravan thundered down the slope, mercenaries flanking them. Thieves shouted, but Jon's arrows felled the first to raise the alarm. The speeding wagons crush crushed any fool enough to block their path, leaving the thieves cowering as the convoy roared past into the night.