The landslide traveled down the hillside, uprooting trees and knocking down the occasional ramshackle hut as it slid on its way. A solitary cart was desperately trying to outrace the landslide, and failing. As the mud gradually surrounded and then completely engulfed the cart, a figure leapt from the cart, holding someone in its arms. A second figure followed fast behind. The two figures nimbly skipped down the mountain, occasionally tossing the third between them.
Eventually, they reached the bottom of the hill, just as the landslide started to subside. The three began rushing towards another hill, scurrying up it as quickly as possible. When they reached the top, the one who had been tossed back and forth looked back at the devastation, and took a deep breath. “So,” stated Gwydd Palepole quietly, “let’s never do that again, okay?”
Faileuba Pepperpot threw her arms up in the air and waved them fervently. “Wooo! Awesome!” She turned to Meliadus Holdfast. “Did you see me? I was all ‘not dying today, landslide!’ Jumping and leaping and not dying!”
“Sure did!” declared Meliadus brightly. “While I was being equally ‘not dying’!”
“Yeah! You were awesome at that!” said Faileuba. “Almost as awesome as I was!”
Meliadus stuck his hands forward. “Slap my hands in celebration of our mutual coolness!” he said.
“On it!” Faileuba brought her hands down on Meliadus’, then offered her own hands for a slap in return. Once that was done, the pair enjoyed a hip bump.
Gwydd coughed. “So… if you two are done… immortalizing the moment…”
“Not quite!” said Meliadus. He placed his hands on Faileuba’s shoulders, who responded in kind. The pair then knocked their heads together, while screaming loudly. “WOOOOO!”
“Is that it?” asked Gwydd.
“Unless you want to butt heads,” replied Meliadus.
“It is awesome!” said Faileuba. She turned to Meliadus. “Hey, Holdfast, let’s see if we can find a place that serves drinks! I need one to kill the pain from the head butt! You?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Meliadus. “Isn’t that the whole reason for the head butt?”
“That and the blood rush,” said Faileuba. “At least, as I always understood it.”
Gwydd stared at them. “So, you want drinks to celebrate your surviving the dismal failure of our present job that you caused. The job which we took because of the grim failure of the job preceding it. Which you also caused.”
Meliadus scratched his head. “Heh. When you put it like that, it does sound bad.”
Gwydd took a deep breath. “And how… would you put it?” He bit his lip. “Just… so that I have… a comparison. For… my mental books, so to speak.”
“The thrilling, nonstop hurly-burly that is our lives, Palepole!” announced Faileuba. “The lives of chivalrous warriors, lived on the edge, defying the odds, doing the impossible, fighting the good fight, and sometime, sometimes, killing mountains.”
Gwydd stared at her. “First, that was a hill, not a mountain. Second, you didn’t kill it. You just… maimed it.”
“Oh, look who’s getting hung up on petty details,” said Faileuba.