As Willem wandered the woods... he grumbled and groaned to himself. He had packed a few supplies before he fled from home, but he had vastly underestimated how much he would need. Willem had also vastly overestimated his own ability to keep a hold on his things. While Willem had held off on eating any of the dried meat, bread, cheese, and fruit he had packed in a little bundle in his backpack for a whole night... He had quickly eaten all of it the next morning when he awoke, having worked up a ravenous hunger traversing the forest. This little feast had been two days ago, so Willem had gone without food for that whole time. This wouldn't have been so bad, if not for the fact that Willem had forgotten to bring all of the wire he'd used for snares and fishing line, along with his tent, bedroll, and tinderbox when he had lost his backpack. Said backpack had been snatched by a particularly deep, fast-flowing river that very morning, leaving Willem with only the soaking wet clothes on his back, his sling, and some smooth stones he'd picked up by the river bank as consolation.

Oh, and it had been raining until late afternoon, so Willem had been unable to get himself dry. The chilly, fall air combined with the wet left him cold and numb to his bones, shivering in a desperate and futile attempt to keep himself warm.

Willem's sour mood was lightened somewhat, when he heard a rustling in some undergrowth near the game trail he had been following. Something small and easy to kill with his sling was nearby. Perhaps, he could at least get himself something to eat.

The question of how Willem was going to actually cook his kill without a flint or any dry tinder did not enter his mind at all as Willem let a stone fly towards the rustling bush. It flew into the foliage, and Willem heard a satisfying *thumph* of something small and furry being hit by a stone. Willem the Wiley then carefully crept toward the creature in the bush, hoping it was already dead and he wouldn't have to bash the poor thing's head in to kill it. He also prayed to whichever of the six gods or local spirits was listening that he had actually hit his target, and that it hadn't just gone silent because a stone had missed it and hit a dead squirrel...

Rain was one of the Beanies' worst enemies ever, because it meant they weren't going to be able to do much of anything with how absorbent they were. And it kept raining until late afternoon, too, which really sucked. Still, though, they have been trudging along the wilderness for days ever since they ended up having to leave Eclipse City following a meowtastic misadventure with Mr. Baird and Mors, so they really wanted to make some headway into civilisation soon.

Luckily for the Beanies, they had purchased a flying broom[1] the other day after getting to zoom around on it one time as a reward for participating in Mr. Vonoros' magic lessons, so they could avoid the still wet and very much muddy terrain as they scouted forward to optimise the path Demony should take to bring the Travelling Beanbag around. Not that it helped them defend against a sudden rock to the back of Goody's head, causing all three of them to fall face-first and be introduced to wet grass thanks to their synchronised damage, the broom quickly following after as it lost its magic source and landing on them before rolling away to the ground.

Star raised themselves up first, looking around their surroundings warily and upon seeing the culprit, they shouted, "(Who threw that!?)"
Goody was feeling kinda woozy but they would hop back up relatively quickly, if now really unhappy about being wet. "(Um, Demony?)"
Chili, on the other hand, was really lazy and had to be helped up by their two friends. Their shadowy frenemy was content to just pretend it didn't see anything, given that the rock was launched rather than thrown so it ignored the hatted plushie.

Oh well. Guess it just meant that the Beanies would have to investigate on their own. Onto the broom they went, and zoomed at the direction they surmised the rock must've come from. Would they find someone, or nothing?

---

[1]Flying Broom

SPOILER: Click to show

A normal seeming broom made out of wood and able to sweep up dirt or dust. However while standing or sitting on the broom, its owner and give a command to cause the broom to rise into the air. The owner can then ride this broom as if using the fly spell.

As Willem made his way to the brush, he slowed. He could have sworn he heard... voices. Little voices coming from the brush. A chill ran down Willem's spine when he heard the word "demony". Had he assaulted a demon? A nature spirit? Worse, some sort of angel? And did this thing think him a demon? Or had he assaulted one of the tiny races of intelligent creature that dwelled in the woods, and they were summoning a demon to take revenge upon him? As Willem stood, frozen, pondering the possibilities...

A broom shot forth from the bush, piloted by three little bears.

"HOLY SIX!!!"

Willem ducked as he shouted for the divines in vain, trying to avoid getting his head impaled by the tip of the broomstick. Then he stood back up, wobbling a bit as he was suddenly hit with another spout of dizziness and black spots. Ah, yes, Willem was still starving.

Perhaps that was why he saw three little stuffed bears flying on a broomstick.

"A-Are... Are you... r-real?"

As Willem the Addled asked this, he did not even consider the possibility that the hallucinations he believed he was having would answer that they were real if they were not. Nor did he consider the possibility that some storybook stars had crawled off the pages and into reality. For he had never read the books that the teddies came from, all of his bedtime stories had been of an older and bloodier bent.

Oh dear. Is that... a kid? Erm, well, probably closer to a teenager, maybe. Regardless of the identity of the person in front of them, the Beanies, being the pacifistic, good-natured plushies that they were, quickly braked while swerving aside to prevent the broom from accidentally hurting the fellow.

"Is mister alright?" Goody asked concernedly. Then the wobbling came and the paleness of the face became palpable as the teenager raised his head. Well, that can't be good. Then Star spotted the sling he still had on his hand.
"Hey! You're the one who launched that rock at us!" Star was angrily glaring now. Nobody hurts Goody-plush and gets away with it. Nobody.
"Um um, Goody is okay." Noticing their fellow Beanie's palpable rage, Goody tried to assert that they hadn't taken any offense to the sudden attack to calm them down, not that it helped.

Then, at the question of whether they were real, the trio of teddy bears would look at each other. This wasn't anything new to them, being creatures that would immediately be pegged as 'out of this world' by the standards of most worlds, and Charon was no exception.

"""Yes we are!""" The three Beanies replied in unison with little hesitation and flew over to attempt to give them little paw touches to prove as much.

Demony continued lugging the Travelling Beanbag while the Beanies dealt with... Oh great, a flimsy-looking little kid. Couldn't it have been something more dangerous and threatening to those accursed sacks of cotton and beans for once?