On My Way
Liam
Heavy knocking on the door of my office startled me from the paper I was staring at, yet not really seeing. It was almost midnight, and I was scrambling to finish prepping my lessons for the professor who would take over during my sabbatical.
“Come in,” I groaned, running a hand through my unruly hair.
The heavy wooden door opened and my colleague and best friend, Coen, stood at the threshold, arms crossed, frowning at me.
Typical.
“Why are you still here? Don’t you leave tomorrow morning?” he asked.
I pushed my wire-rimmed glasses up my nose and glared at him. “Yes, but I wasn’t informed I was going on this expedition until today. Apparently, one of the other beastologists got sick and I’m the replacement.”
Coen chuckled, his hazel eyes full of mirth. “Do they even know what they’ve gotten themselves into, adding you to the bunch?”
“Kindly fuck off, dear friend.”
Looking down at my desk, he tut-tutted in disapproval at the disarray as he approached. Papers were strung everywhere, my bag lay open on the floor with its contents spilling out. Several dirty teacups sat piled in the corner, and I couldn’t find a damned pencil to save my life.
My bookshelves were no better. Though I tried to keep them organized, the books seemed to jump to random places as if they were taunting me. Or perhaps I just forgot to put them back where they belonged in my rush to get to class on time.
A breeze entered my open window, blowing the papers about in even more chaos. I supposed that’s what I got for attempting to air out the stale space.
“Dammit,” I muttered, scrambling to close the window and gather what had fallen to the ground.
“Liam.” Coen looked at me pointedly. “Go home and pack. I’m taking over your courses while you’re gone. I don’t need any of this stuff. I know what I’m doing.”
“You? You hate teaching. And beastology isn’t even your field of expertise.”
He took a seat across from me, his wide frame almost comical in the small chair. “I know enough to get your students through your absence. It will be good for them to learn more botany anyway, seeing as you don’t know shit about it.”
I waved a hand. “Plants bore me. So, how did Rosenshield convince you to take over?”
“Something about me spending too much time in the lab and not interacting with the students and faculty enough…” he muttered.
I held back a smile. “My poor students are going to be terrified of you.”
“Good.”
I leaned forward. “Be easy on them.”
“No. That won’t help them in the real world.” He gestured to my desk. “Hurry home to pack. You don’t have much time.”
I gathered my bag, shoving papers and books into it andfruitlessly attempted to close the latch but it was too full. I stood and made my way to the door as Coen walked beside me.
“So, who’s on the team?” he asked.
“Let’s see…” I tried to remember the names on the letter I’d received this morning as we walked down the dark hallways of our university, Lone Oak Magic Academy. “Two beastologists, including myself. A cataloger….uh…Lovelace, I think? Doctor Rosenshield is the botanist and leader. Then we have two graduate students and a guide.”
“Have fun with Rosenshield,” Coen said.
I laughed. The dean of botany, and technically Coen’s boss, Rosenshield was odd. A stout older man with a penchant for spiritweed—something he smoked almost obsessively when he was stressed—he was brilliant, yet eccentric, and would make for a peculiar leader.
“Who’s the other beastologist?” Coen asked.
I gave my friend a flat look. “Thornheart.”
