“...Man, you are out of shape.”


    Ray shot Zanzibar a look as they paused again in their hike, leaning against the tree. “I am not.”


    “You stop us every hour so you can take a breather. I think you got way too used to taking the bus everywhere.”


    “Just because I am not used to hiking, doesn’t mean I’m unfit.”


    “Hey man, all I’m saying is you can hit the gym a bit more often.” Ray rolled his eyes and shoved off the tree.


    “I have perfectly fine exercise equipment at home and am fit enough for the job, Zan.”


    "Oh Mr. Fancypants here, with his home gym. Got a home theater too?”


    “It is not- why am I arguing with you this is a stealth mission.” Ray huffed, starting to walk again. It was a small mercy his teammate didn’t keep speaking; Ray’s patience during this quest was running thin. The walk was long, not helped by the humidity nor the heavy packs of supplies, or the fact they were walking into one of the most dangerous missions they’ve ever been on. Danger wasn’t unusual to Hunters, but rarely was it a human threat. Trolls squatting under extremely active bridges, fairies pinching plants from home improvement stores, even the kitsune were the sorts of danger they faced.


    Most of them didn’t use guns.


    The weight of the bulletproof best under Ray’s camouflaged hoodie was suddenly very heavy, and not just because he was starting to sweat. Ray went to wipe some of the moisture off... then paused. Looking himself over he saw water beading all across his waterproof clothing and looking to Zanzibar revealed he was also drenched. The wheels began turning in Ray’s mind, instinct flaring up.


    “...Hold on.” Zanzibar looked at him with a huff.


    “I swear to God if-” Ray shushed him and raised a hand that had the whale charm hanging from his wrist, watching it spin and turn... before it suddenly stopped, pointing in one direction. Quickly he pulled a shikigami and sent it to hover in front of Zanzibar, and Ray made a shooting gesture. Zanzibar caught on quick and took aim at the shikigami, the doll barely getting out of the way by the time he pulled the trigger. Even with the hefty suppressor on the barrel the blast was still loud, but not so much so they didn’t hear a gurgling whinny and a loud thud. Ray drew his knife and the two moved in cautiously to see a dead kelpie, green light pouring from a massive wound in its neck.


    “I see that-” Ray didn’t get to finish his sentence as Zanzibar suddenly drew his machete and stabbed it into the kelpie, and it rapidly turned to dissolving green light before all was left was green-blue disk of crystal. Zanzibar grabbed the crystal and shoved it into his pack.


    “Sorry, what were you saying?”


    “...I see that the enchanted rounds are still doing the work. More importantly, I think we’re on the right track.”


    “Was the big water horse your first clue?”


    “And my second. Either they’ve somehow trained the kelpie as guard dogs, or found a way to drive them out.” Zanzibar hummed and pumped his shotgun, collecting the spent shell off the ground.


    “Knowing our luck? The second one, and something big to boot.”


    Caution became the name of the game from then on out: Ray created a screen of fog around them to hide their presence, senses extend through his shikigami with Zanzibar scanning ahead with his shotgun. No more kelpies, thankfully, but they soon came to another problem: a lake. At the very least it was the lake they needed, as discovered by their scouting; camouflaged cargo containers, a makeshift hut, and several unmarked boxes and packages.


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    “Well that’s either our target, or some poor camper is about to have a hell of a wake-up call.” Zanzibar double-checked his equipment. “You sensing anything else?”


    “Nothing, at least not that the charms or dolls detect.” Ray peered about the lake. “It looks clear, but the question is how we get across.”


    “Just fly us over like you did last time.”


    “Can’t, they might see us coming.”


    “Then make a bridge out of them.”


    “We don’t know if the water is truly empty.”


    “Oh for- then we fucking swim, how about that? Or we sit here with our thumbs up our asses.” Ray made face but Zanzibar had a point: there was no good way to approach the island, so they have to just pick the form of their destroyer-


    “If I-” The two immediately whipped around, weapons in hand to see... a fish. It was as tall as they were, dressed in plan black robes, and it quickly raised a pair of finned hands into the air. “...Hello. I mean no harm, I am simply an-”


    “Iwana bozu.” Ray finished, and the fish nodded.


    “I see you are familiar with my kind, though the fact you have not attacked me tells me you do not share a goal with the intruders.”


    Ray looked to Zanzibar before putting his knife away, Zanzibar lowering his gun slightly as Ray continued, “Who are you?”


    “You may call me “Iwai,” and I am... or, was, at least, the guardian of this place. ” The iwana bozu sighed. “Before the poachers came.”


    “You lived here, in a kelpie sanctuary?” The suspicion was plain in Zanzibar’s voice, but Iwai nodded.


    “We are of kin, in a sense, but I can explain much better if you follow me.”


    Zanzibar’s skepticism was clear, but when Ray began to follow Iwai, he did the same. Iwai led them to a small, abandoned beaver dam converted into a lean-to, sitting on a log. “Please, sit. I know you two must be tired, to say nothing of the questions you have.”


    Ray sat but Zanzibar remained standing, Ray bowing slightly. “Thank you, Iwai.”


    “If you truly wish to thank me, then remove the poachers from these lands. The way you two talked, you are... Hunters, is that the word?” Ray nodded, and Iwai sagged in relief. “Rarely do I meet your kind here. Truly a blessing.”


    “Just start from the beginning, Iwai.”


    Iwai nodded and sat up straighter. “I came here many years ago from-”


    “Skip to the poachers.” Zanzibar interrupted as he turned his head, keeping watch. Ray elbowed one of Zanzibar’s legs for the rudeness, but Iwai bowed their head.


    “Apologies. Bandits and poachers aren’t new, but the ones on the island came here... four months ago? Perhaps six. Them and that awful ogre...”


    “Ogre?” Ray leaned in as Zanzibar let out a sarcastic laugh.


    “Oh good, we found the thing to bring man and mythen together: crime.”


    “Unfortunate, but true.” Iwai nodded to Zanzibar before focusing on Ray, “Yes, or I believe it was. It was tall, grey skin like stone and stood like a man with two short horns on its head. The kelpie tried to get rid of them at first but... between their guns and that ogre’s strength.”


    Iwai shook his head, looking to the ground as Ray let the information steep. Stony skin? Ogres didn’t typically have stony skin, not many mythen did, and those that were more in-tune with rock and stone avoided water, so what could that “ogre” possibly be? A potion or spell wasn’t impossible but they needed more info. “Anything else you can tell us, Iwai? Even the smallest detail might help.”


    “There is not much else I can provide. The ogre spends most of its days submerged in the water, sleeping I presume, or feeding on the local creatures when it’s not ferrying the humans across.”


    ...What the fu- underwater? Ray’s confusion skyrocketed; there was nothing stony that would actively live underwater. Were they dealing with something mutated like the kitsune? That must be it. Ray started scrolling through his mental list of aquatic creatures before Zanzibar cut in.


    “You sure it ain’t a troll?” Ray’s mind screeched to a halt at the suggestion. “I mean they turn to stone in the sunlight, maybe that’s how it’s living down there.”


    “No, I’m afraid it’s still active during the day.” Iwai shook his head but Ray’s brain was rapidly making connections. This area isn’t known for trolls, but trolls weren’t always stationary and it was Niagra Falls: plenty of bridges, caves, and overhangs where a troll could reasonably make its den. Close to water for fresh fish, other animals as a food source, but stone skin- no, wait, there were cases like that. The trolls would slowly expose themselves to sunlight to build up a resistance, or even an armor of stony, calloused skin.


    “Zan? I have a plan, and you’re going to need the best bullets you packed.”