Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions

Disclaimer: I do not own Wander Over Yonder. It’s just inspired me.

First off, I know I’ve been silent for too long. It’s been a tough time and I haven’t been able to make myself write but I’ve really missed it. I am hoping to start updating my unfinished stories, but I knew I had to start by writing something for Wander Over Yonder. I discovered it only recently and it has helped me through some really tough times. This show is wonderful and needs some more love. I have a lot of stories I want to write for it, so here is the first.

I’m so intrigued by the tiny slices of Wander’s backstory we received in the show. This one is set shortly after Wander steals his hat, when they are still getting to know each other. And naturally he wasn’t called Wander back then…

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Alarm Clock

Rambler added another log to his little campfire and snuggled back into his sleeping bag. It had been a few days since he and his companion had encountered any signs of Hive Queen Slarina or Gragnar the Greedy, and although they were most likely still in danger of pursuit, Rambler finally felt safe enough to take it a little easy. That meant a warm supper and an actual camp for the first time since this whole thing started. He shot a glance towards the floppy green hat resting next to him.

“It’s been quite a day.” His voice was quiet, matching the gentle crackling of the fire. He was talking half to himself, but he still smiled encouragingly. “I’ve never had a travlin’ companion before. It’s not always the mos’ comfortable life, but it sure is fun. Ya get to see the mos’ amazing things and meet all kinds of different folks.” He reached a hand out of his sleeping bag to pat the top of the hat gently. “I bet travlin’s even better with a buddy by your side.”

He wasn’t sure how much it heard or understood, but that had never stopped him before. Besides, something about the warn, patched and faded quality of the fabric and the slight droop of the large brim made it look sad. And lonely.

Rambler pulled the hat closer, slipping it protectively onto his head before snuggling further into the sleeping bag.

“Goodnight,” he whispered. The hat brim seemed to dip slightly where it overhung his eyes, but that could have just been a trick of the flickering firelight. Rambler closed his eyes and let the crackling of the fire put him to sleep.

When he woke, he became aware of an urgent buzzing and rattling noise, not very loud, but definitely insistent. Rambler opened his eyes to the first light of dawn. His eyes focused and he found himself facing a tiny alarm clock, jiggling and rattling all over the pebbles as it buzzed. Puzzled and slightly disorientated, he reached out a hand and turned off the alarm. The clock went still, and the silence of an early morning settled for just a minute before Rambler heard something else; a voice, high pitched with a grating quality to it.

“…somewhere around here anyway. I’m sure this is the direction the smoke was coming from.”

Suddenly fully awake, Rambler slipped out of his sleeping bag as quietly as he could. He debated silently for a second over whether he had time to roll the bag up again and stuff it in his small backpack, before rejecting the idea. He would just have to pick up another one somewhere. It only took a moment to sling his backpack over his shoulders. The hat was still on his head and there wasn’t really anything else he’d left lying around the campsite. Just the cold ashes from his small fire and the tiny alarm clock. On impulse, he snatched the clock up as well, then moved as quietly as he could to the far side of the clearing from where he had heard the voice. He ducked behind a tree just in time. Bushes rustled and he heard an exclamation from the apparent pursuers.

“There! I told you, here’s his campsite!”

“A campsite anyway.” The other voice sounded annoyed.

Footsteps crossed and recrossed the clearing, the voices commenting on the unzipped sleeping bag and campfire. Rambler stayed pressed against the rough bark of the tree, afraid to try moving further away lest he attract their attention by making a noise. He would also like to have a look at his pursuers, but didn’t want to risk being spotted. From their voices, he thought they might be Slarina’s troops, which wasn’t the best luck he’d ever had. They would be very difficult to escape without a substantial head start. They obviously hadn’t caught sight of him before he hid, but unfortunately he was going to have to move soon, ideally before they finished examining his camp and decided to search the clearing’s edges to find his tracks.

The brim of the hat hung down over his eyes and Rambler reached up and gave it a reassuring pat. Then he ducked down in an effort to keep his bright orange fur at least somewhat hidden in the thick ground cover, and began to work his way deeper into the forest.

He brushed past ferns and crept over roots. As the clearing disappeared behind him, his pace picked up slightly as his confidence grew. Finally, he straightened up and chanced a glance behind him. Through the trees he caught a flash of black and yellow. That was bad. If he could see them, they could see him. He tried to pick up the pace, but as he was still looking behind him, he neglected to watch his footing. One sneaker snagged on a protruding root and Rambler tumbled over in a tangle of gangly limbs. His stomach hit the ground hard and his breath was forced out of him with a huff. He heard an angry buzz behind him and pushed himself painfully to his feet, gulping air.

“There he goes! Through the trees!” the grating voice exclaimed.

Definitely Slarina’s swat-soldiers, he thought distractedly as he stumbled forward. He could hear them coming now, but not as quickly as he’d feared, and he could hear angry exclamations from behind him in addition to the crackly foliage. It seemed like the density of the undergrowth was preventing them from flying, which was probably the only chance he had of outpacing them. He was moving faster now, ducking and weaving around the trees, as the noises of pursuit got louder behind him. At least it sounded like only two of them so far, although they had probably signaled for back-up once they sighted him. The swat-soldiers liked to coordinate.
Rambler kept his eyes on his footing this time as he scrambled through the forest. Even so, the ground was treacherous and he kept stumbling and then catching himself again, one hand on the hat to keep it safe from snatching branches.

The bzzt of a laser flickered past his shoulder, severing a nearby branch and he glanced behind him again. They were closer now, bristly, yellow and black stripes sticking out through the foliage. He was losing this race, even with the trees keeping them earthbound. He needed to think of something, and quickly. Rambler’s eyes flicked back and forth, searching his surroundings for something promising. Just in front and to the side of him he noticed a steep slope. The forest was getting rockier and the valley below was studded with boulders and strange hummocks. It would have to do. He put on a sudden burst of speed and veered sharply to the right and down, feeling leaves slipping under his sneakers. He lost his footing again, but that was okay. If anything, his tumble this time made him go faster than before. He floundered down the slope and fetched up against a leaf-covered mound. The swat-soldiers were out of sight again, but it wouldn’t be long before they got to the top of the hill. He had to be out of sight by then. At least with the old leaves piled high in this valley he wouldn’t leave footprints.

One more quick look around and Rambler was crawling between the roots of a partially collapsed tree, then pulling himself up into the hollow trunk above. He froze there, fingers digging into the soft, rotting wood, and tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t risk making a sound, but he grinned up at the black hat brim above him and gave it a wink.

Footsteps descending the slope, more careful than his had been it sounded like. The voices resumed, along with the complaining.

“I can’t believe you lost him again! He’s orange! How could you lose him?”

“Me?” There was a scuffling noise, then a thud as a heavy body hit Rambler’s tree. He dug his fingers and toes in a little more. “I wasn’t the slag-drassit craggle-thunk who decided to send us both crashing into a tree. My antennas are still twisted!”

“Shhhh!” The noises stopped abruptly. Rambler’s arms were starting to shake slightly. He willed them still. In the sudden silence, he could hear the crackling of branches from farther off in the forest. The two soldiers could obviously hear it as well.

“That way, Mabel.” The harsh voice dropped to a whisper. “And this time, keep it down.”

Rambler heard some angry muttering, likely from Mabel, but subdued. The soldiers seemed to be moving away. The rustling underbrush became gradually more distant until he couldn’t hear it any more. He listened for a few minutes more, then allowed his shaking arms and legs to relax, sliding down the inside of the tree until he was peering out through the roots once more.

Silence and stillness. The valley was empty.

“Well, that was certainly fun!” Rambler grinned up at his companion, even while he kept his voice to a whisper. “But I suppose I was too quick to relax, huh?” He started picking his way through the rocks and tree stumps towards the edge of the valley. “No more campfires until we get off planet at least. I promised I’d get us out of this an’ I will. Sure was a good thing I woke up in time this morning, though!” He paused at that, remembering the tiny clock bouncing around in front of his face, making sure he was awake before the soldiers arrived. He glanced up again at the hat. The edges of the brim were curled up slightly, and he felt his grin widen in response. “Thanks for that, by the way. Travlin’ certainly is better with a buddy.”

Rambler had started climbing the side of the valley now and his eyes dropped to focus on his hand and foot holds. He didn’t want to slip again after all. As he climbed he found himself humming a soft tune. It was nice not to be traveling alone, and he had a feeling his new friend was enjoying the company as much as he was.

Thanks for reading the first chapter!

Wander is such a chatty guy. We didn’t get to see much of it this chapter, but will be seeing more as the story progresses, even if he will mostly be conversing with his hat.
I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Not sure how many chapters this will be.

I can’t guarantee how fast I will update, but I will do my best. See you all soon!

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions
Chapter Two: The Bed

Disclaimer: I do not own Wander Over Yonder. I don’t need to own it. I’d just like a third season.

I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. The chapters are going to stay fairly short. Little, light adventures of Wander and his hat getting to know each other.
We know Wander already had his hat during his interactions with Major Threat, which I interpret to mean at least a thousand years before, possibly more. That means no orble juice as we know it wasn’t invented yet. This makes traveling a little more complicated, as I don’t picture Wander with a ship.

Enjoy the next step!

Getting out of the forest took a while. The swat-soldiers must have called for backup. The woods were buzzing with them. Rambler found himself changing direction many times to avoid the searchers. It was late afternoon by the time the trees thinned and gave way to a dirt road bordered by fields. It was a little open for Rambler’s tastes at the moment, but as there were no soldiers in sight, he decided to make use of the easier terrain and put some distance between them and their pursuers. Besides, a road had to lead somewhere populated, which was exactly what they needed if they were going to travel off planet. At least there were some hedges he could use for quick cover if necessary.

He adjusted the backpack on his slim shoulders and set off, mindful to keep an eye out for possible hiding places. At the same time, he couldn’t help basking in the warm sun and gentle wind. Clathor V was certainly a pleasant place to visit. There were no signs of the civil war that had engulfed this system, at least on the less populated parts of the planet.

As they walked, Rambler talked.

He was used to traveling alone, but that didn’t mean he was alone all the time. He was always meeting new and exciting people as he moseyed from planet to planet, and he had picked up an almost endless supply of stories, tales and legends from different worlds. Now he had someone to share those stories with and he was taking full advantage of the opportunity. He hoped he wasn’t boring his companion. It was difficult to tell what the hat was feeling. Still, Rambler thought it had perked up a little at his voice. Besides, he couldn’t help thinking about the conditions he had found it in. None of the folks there had seemed that interested in telling tales, or in actually talking to the hat at all.

They’d been too busy talking at it.

So he continued, spinning stories about this and that as he walked. He would have pulled out his old banjo and tried out a few songs, but he knew he tended to lose himself in his music, and he really should be keeping some kind of eye out for searchers.

After a few hours, the buildings of a distant city came into view, sticking out over the flat expanse they were traveling through. They seemed to be a combination of low, curved towers and groups of clustered huts of brightly coloured stone. Details resolved themselves as Rambler drew closer; awnings and pennants flowing from the tops of food stalls and open-air shops and the townsfolk moving down the streets and between the buildings. Suddenly Rambler halted, ducking behind one of the outlying houses as he caught sight of a few particularly relevant details. The shadows were lengthening now, and much of the colour was going out of the landscape, but there was a fair amount of light in the city proper, and when he poked his head cautiously out around the side of the house, he could see that the streets were a lot busier than normal.

The city was swarming with swat-soldiers. They moved between the buildings in small groups, clearly in charge from the cowed reactions of the citizens. There was no protesting as they checked barrels and poked their heads into stores and houses. There were even a few flying above the low roofs, checking in chimneys and over fences.

Rambler found himself feeling just a tad dismayed. He hadn’t expected quite this vigorous of a reception. Had they figured out which way he was heading, or had they decided to start searching all the nearby cities once they lost him in the forest? Either way, it would make catching a ride off planet significantly more complicated. He pressed himself back to the curved wall of the house to think and became aware of the hat brim drooping down over his eyes. His lips curved into a smile.

“Well,” he mused thoughtfully, keeping his voice just above a whisper. “I must admit I didn’ expect to see so many new friends. You ‘n I’ve become quite popular fellas, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. There was less of a curve to the hat brim now. It somehow managed to look deadpan. “It’ll be fine,” Rambler reassured, still keeping his voice light but quiet. “First thing, we need ta’ find somewhere sheltered where we can figure out our next step, and somewhere to rest for the night.” He poked his head out again, taking in the darkening streets and bustling soldiers.

At least the night coming on would help a bit. He was pretty sure the soldiers couldn’t see well in the dark. They always returned to their barracks once night fell. He could already see the searching starting to slow, many of them congregating in the streets to discuss what they had found, or hadn’t found. There might still be patrols tonight; well lit patrols probably, but it should make it easier to get around. Still, they were uncomfortably exposed where they were, and Rambler thought it would be best to find somewhere under cover where they could wait until it was truly night.

Sighting a likely place, Rambler drew in a long breath, pulling the hat down more securely on his head. He ducked out from behind their poor shelter and made for the closest available patch of shadow; the shade of a fence guarding the next house in. He crouched here for only a moment before flitting to the next shadow, then the next, working his way gradually further into town and doing his best to time his movements so that the soldiers were facing away.

It was exhilarating as it always was, but this time Rambler was conscious of the weight on his head, the reminder that he wasn’t just risking himself now, but a friend as well. It made him slightly more cautious when he passed a storekeeper whose goods had been spilled over the cobblestones, probably by the soldiers in their hurried search of his shop. The poor shopkeeper was bent double, trying to retrieve the many differently coloured glass marbles which had rolled every which way, and having a difficult job of it despite being aided by his six, purple tentacles.

Rambler felt that familiar pull at his heart, the twitch in his hands and knew he had to help, but maybe, just for once, he could keep it unobtrusive. So, instead of simply diving for the marbles, Rambler crouched down by the side of the booth and worked his way under the hanging cloth. This had the added benefit of allowing him to rescue the marbles the owner couldn’t immediately see and Rambler had picked up quite a few of them, surreptitiously sneaking one hand out from under the cloth to return them to their proper bowls at intervals, before he was spotted.

He had just opened his fist, dropping another handful of marbles into the rapidly refilling bowl on top of the counter, when he felt something wrap firmly around his wrist and he was hauled out from under the cloth and hoisted into the air, suspended at the end of a familiar looking purple tentacle. Rambler smiled sheepishly when confronted with the owner’s surprised face.

“Need a hand, friend?” he enquired belatedly.

The scream that followed seemed a tad unnecessary, as well as attracting the attention Rambler had been trying so hard to avoid.

The next moment he was thrown. Rambler tucked himself into a fuzzy orange ball, arms clamped tightly over his head. He hit the cobbles of the main street and rolled before stopping. One eye opened, and then the other, and gosh, he didn’t remember the street being painted in black and yellow stripes.

Well, apparently it wasn’t. As Rambler’s vertigo wore off, the unusual paint job resolved itself into a ring of swat-soldiers rapidly closing in around him.

Rambler got to his feet, brushing dust out of his fur carefully. He smiled at the soldiers as they drew ever nearer, blasters coming to bear. He tipped the hat, giving a courteous bow, then he ducked and ran.
He charged through a small gap in the circle and tore down the street at the fastest pace he could muster. Blaster fire sounded immediately behind him, but the shots were fairly wide of him, whether because of the growing darkness or because the soldiers likely had orders to not shoot at his head.

Either way, it was still more heat than he liked upon arriving at a new town. He had to find a way to lose them quickly. He had been hiking all day, and he was already feeling tired before this suddenly became a game of ‘catch the nomad.’

Rambler ducked into a dark alley, taking comfort at the way the soldiers immediately balked, hesitating at the edge of the light before plunging after him. It was quite dark off the main road, with no street lights to keep the shadows at bay. Rambler continued running, ducking around garbage cans and other obstacles and turning as many corners as he could. He could hear them following him, although it sounded like they were stumbling over many of the objects he had avoided, and their shouts gradually faded behind him.

They would have to stop soon and retire for the night, he knew but, come morning when they could see again, they would be out in force again to find him, especially now they knew he was somewhere in the city.

At least while it was dark he would have an easier time finding somewhere to spend the night.

He just hoped his friend wasn’t too upset at him.

“Well, this would have been nice to know beforehand.”

Rambler leaned back against the flour sack he was lounging against. The paper in his hands was difficult to read in the gloom of the storage shed they were sheltering in, but he could make out enough. Besides, he’d seen enough wanted posters in his time to recognize the designs. Certainly, this was one of the more…strongly worded wanted posters he’d had. The huge reward at the bottom was pretty standard though. Rambler squinted, reading again the part outlining punishments for anyone caught harboring the ‘dangerous thief.’ That explained the shopkeeper’s reaction a little better, though Rambler couldn’t help wishing he’d been able to finish cleaning up the marbles before being discovered and having to run. At least he was pretty sure he had gotten most of them.

The hat was heavy on his head, and Rambler could almost see the cloud of disapproval flowing from it. He sighed, grin falling a little as he took the rebuke for what it was. He rolled the wanted poster up and stuffed it in his backpack.

“I know, I know,” he said after a moment. “It wasn’t exactly the safest thing to do, but I gotta help when I see somebody needin’. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.” The brim drooped a little in front of his face, as though understanding the unspoken continuation. I’m helpin’ you, aren’t I? “Besides, we’re gonna be fine,” Rambler reassured. He took a moment to look around their current hiding place. The shed was small and dusty, filled with sacks and boxes filled with goods of various kinds. “We can rest here for the night, and in the mornin’, or maybe a little earlier, while it’s still dark, we’ll find someone to take us off planet. Once we get to the spaceport I’m sure we’ll find plenty of folks bound for all over.” He didn’t mention how many soldiers were likely to be around in the morning, but he knew they were both thinking about it.

Rambler shrugged the thought off along with his backpack. He would deal with tomorrow when it came. It had been a rich, full day, and all he wanted to do now was sleep. His head was heavy and he couldn’t help yawning as he opened the flaps on his pack and reached inside. He really must have been tired, because he had been rooting through the contents of his backpack for a full minute before he realized his sleeping bag wasn’t inside and remembered why.

“Right, no sleeping bag,” he mused to himself, sitting back again on his heels. He shrugged again. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d certainly slept without it before, and he could do it again. The night was chilly, but the shed’s walls provided protection from the wind, and the flour sacks would be somewhere relatively soft to stretch out on. Rambler closed the bag again, placing it beside himself as he curled up on the sack he’d been leaning against. Finally he removed the hat, placing it carefully next to him on his makeshift bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, already feeling sleepy despite the cold air that blew in tiny gusts through the cracks in their shelter. “I’ll figure out somethin’ in the morning.” He gave the crown of the hat a gentle pat and settled down, arms wrapped around himself and legs drawn in close to preserve his body heat. “Goodnight.” His eyes drifted closed, breathing evening out in sleep, so he didn’t see the slight downward tilt of the brim.

It was sometime later, still too dark to be anything but true night. Rambler was still half asleep, and all he knew was that he was cold. The temperature must have dropped. Rambler felt his teeth chatter together from the force of his shivers. He felt around drowsily for the sleeping bag that he must have wriggled out of somehow during the night. His questing fingers touched something made of cloth. It seemed to be a large sack of some kind. It was soft and warm, and he slipped inside the opening without thinking, snuggling down inside it until only his head was exposed.

Finally warm, Rambler felt himself sinking back into sleep. Whatever this was it was very comfortable. He felt almost like comforting arms were wrapped around him. A smile slipped across his face as awareness left him.
He slept soundly for the rest of the night.

Thanks for reading!

Hmmmm, I wonder what he was sleeping inside at the end of the chapter…

I hope you are all enjoying the story so far. This is a bit of a different type of story from anything I’ve written before, so I hope the style I’m going for is working.
I am also trying to keep Wander in character as much as possible, while communicating that it is over a thousand years ago, and he was probably a little different. I feel like he might be a little more careful before meeting Sylvia. When he travels with her in the show, he is able to follow his impulses and be more daring because she is there to help and him and get him out of any trouble he gets himself into. He is also pretty focused on protecting the hat right now, so that helps as well.

Next update will probably be the next chapter of Shades of Self, then likely this story again.

See you all soon!

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions
Chapter Three: The Refreshments

It was pre-dawn when Rambler woke again. He felt rested and oh so warm and cozy. For a moment he just enjoyed the sensation, snuggling deeper into the softness that surrounded him, but he was already starting to wake up. He was naturally an early riser, and as his awareness returned to him, he remembered why waking early was particularly important this morning. He reached up automatically to unzip his sleeping bag, but stopped as a thought tickled his awareness. He’d lost his sleeping bag yesterday when he had to vacate the camp in a hurry.

So what was he sleeping inside?

Rambler’s eyes snapped open and he looked down at himself. In the dull, grey light everything looked flat and colourless, but he could see enough. Slowly he ran one furry hand along the material of the hat, tracing the edge of the brim with his finger. He was snuggled inside it, from his toes to his chin. He didn’t remember doing that, and his first feeling at the realization was a flash of nervousness. He never wanted the hat to feel like it was being taken advantage of or used. He knew it would take a while to trust him after the situation he’d found it in, and he needed to show it he was a friend and not trying to be another owner. However, when he looked down shyly, he saw the edges of the brim curving upwards and found his own lips forming into a smile in response.

Carefully, he stepped out of the hat, slipping it gently back onto his head. He immediately felt the cold of the not-quite morning biting through his fur and gave an involuntary shiver. It had gotten a lot colder in the night than he had thought it would.

He wanted to say something, but found himself inexplicably tongue tied. He hadn’t really traveled with anyone before, and this was a new situation for him. Sure, a lot of folks he helped liked to help him back, and he was always grateful when it happened, but this felt a little different and made him feel a little uncomfortable, though not in a bad way.

“Thank’ee friend,” he managed after a moment. “I think I needed that.” He gave the brim a gentle tug to settle the hat more firmly on his head, then bent to retrieve his backpack. He found himself humming softly as he secured the straps and made ready to head out.

The light was still very grey when Rambler slipped out of the storage shed. As he’d hoped, there wasn’t a swat-soldier in sight as he navigated through the sleeping city toward the star port. They made good time. There was only one delay while Rambler restacked a collapsed pile of firewood by one of the dwellings, but they weren’t spotted, and were back on track after only a few minutes.

The cold felt invigorating now that he was up and moving, and Rambler had to fight the urge to whistle while he walked. There was a warm glow of happiness all through his guttyworks and he felt almost like they were out on a relaxing stroll instead of trying to escape from an organized military and a power-hungry dictator.

He was a little hungry, but he didn’t want to delay them further by digging any of his supplies out of his pack. Time was of the essence, after all. He could manage until they found a ride off planet and had a little more breathing space.

The star port, when he sighted it, was surprisingly industrial compared to what Rambler had seen of the rest of the planet. He supposed that the inhabitants must have relied on interplanetary trade a good deal before being conquered. There was a large expanse of smooth, black concrete on which several substantially sized hangers were situated. There were a number of ships already parked in designated areas with others arriving and departing all the time directed by two, tall control towers. This was clearly a part of the metropolis which never slept, and Rambler found himself once again having to keep out of sight.

Once again, their status was brought forcibly to the forefront of his mind. Wanted posters were everywhere, attached to buildings, lampposts and even some of the more stationary ships, and the nomad couldn’t help admiring the hustle. Slarina was certainly being industrious about this.

Rambler had earned a fair few bounties in his time, and when the heat was on to this extent, it was always best to make yourself a little scarce. Given that Slarina’s current base of operations was on this planet, he was hopeful things would quiet down at least a little once they were out of orbit, but to be safe, they would probably have to travel across half the galaxy. At least Gragnar and his troops had been absent after that confrontation at the royal palace. They must have been repelled if Slarina could spare so many troops for him and his friend.

That had certainly been a time and a half. Rambler had had no idea what he was walking into, and certainly hadn’t expected to earn the ire of two heavy hitters at once by doing so, but he didn’t regret what had happened. How could he when he’d been able to help someone and found a new friend by doing so.

The sun was coming up now, slowly but surly, painting the horizon with a pastel of reds and purples. And with the light and warmth of the approaching day came the soldiers. It almost felt like Rambler blinked and they were back. Several groups of them flew overhead before landing in perfect formation and resuming the patrols which had been suspended at dusk.

Rambler’s eyes darted around in the growing light, searching for a likely transport that wasn’t too far from his current hiding place. A big blue ship caught his eye. It was shaped rather like a whale with many fins along its sides and bottom. There was a group of braxiors clustered around it, big, powerful and a brighter blue than their ship. Their eyestalks were waving in agitation as they loaded heavy red crates into the belly of the ship. They seemed surprised and dismayed by the arrival of the swat-soldiers, which made Rambler hopeful that they weren’t locals. They might be more willing to take on a passenger if their world wasn’t currently under Slarina’s control. Still, it might be best to broach this question with them once they were out of orbit. Even if they didn’t turn him in, he would be seen by the soldiers immediately if he tried to stroll up and ask for a ride at the moment.

Rambler therefore tugged the hat more firmly over his eyes, checked that all those nearby were currently occupied, and slipped over towards the open doors to the ship’s hold where the cargo bay was located. He knew he had to hurry, as there were only a few pieces of cargo still being loaded, and he had his eyes fixed on his destination. At a sudden shout behind him, Rambler started, ducking behind one of the crates that was still waiting on the concrete. He froze, pressing himself against the bright wood, heart beating quickly in his chest. He heard running feet, along with the buzz of wings, and several soldiers passed by his dubious hiding place to confront the group of braxiors. It sounded like they were citing some new shipping rules that Slarina had put in place when she took control.

Rambler shared a glance with the hat. It looked tense; brim taut and pulled down slightly. Rambler had to agree, though he still managed a reassuring smile. That was a little too close. They hadn’t been spotted, which was good, but the soldiers were now between them and the cargo bay. They could really use a distraction of some kind to get on board.

The traveler began looking around to see what was available. There might be something usable in the crates, but it would be pretty rude of him to dig through someone else’s things, especially when he was already planning to sneak onto the ship without the owner’s knowledge. He didn’t want to be more of a bother than he had to. He didn’t think he had anything in his pack that would work, but it was worth a try, he supposed. Without much hope, Rambler slipped his backpack off and began rifling through it as quietly as he could.

“Gotta be somethin’,” he breathed, hand working its way along the cloth sides. He was interrupted by a sudden weight on his head, making him jump. It was hard and cold. Confused, Rambler reached up one hand and felt under the hat’s protruding brim. He pulled the object out and stared at it for a moment. It was a plastic bottle with an orange liquid inside and a colourful label. “A soda?” he whispered. He glanced up at the black underside of the brim. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful, but… “Thanks, but ‘M not sure this is really the time for…”

Thunk, thunk, thunkthunkthunkthunk…

Rambler ducked his head slightly at the sudden barrage. Bottles bumped onto his head, piling up and falling out from under the brim where he had to catch them so that they didn’t make a noise. It didn’t exactly hurt. After all, there was very little force behind each bottle, but it was certainly surprising. As the assault slowed, the nomad glanced up again questioningly at the hat. His arms were full of soda bottles now in various colours, and the sides of the hat bulged with more that were still piled on his head. The wide brim pulled up again cheekily as he looked at it, and Rambler felt his face splitting into a grin in response. “Ding!” he breathed, finally catching on to the idea.

It made sense that the hat had figured out the perfect distraction first. It was more familiar with their pursuers, after all.

Rambler peered out from behind his hiding place, taking in the swat-soldiers who were still harassing the poor braxiors, as well as their comrades swarming the tarmac. He had to think about how to do this properly. A nearby loading skiff caught his eye, and Rambler stretched himself out partly from behind the crate, tongue hanging out slightly in concentration, trying to snag it with one foot. He hooked his sneaker under the edge and tried to pull it within reach. The skiff rolled slowly towards him.

The swat-soldiers were facing away, but Rambler could see a braxior child following the movement, her eyestalks bobbing slowly as the skiff bumped along. He knew he’d have to hurry before the child drew attention to them, or anyone else noticed what they were doing. He dug in his pack once again as the skiff came into his reach, grabbing what he needed and piling the soda bottles on the base as quietly as he could. A couple of quick adjustments, and the skiff was sent rolling across the flat expanse of the star port, bottles jostling together on top.

Shouts sounded immediately, swat-soldiers turning from their patrols to watch the speeding skiff. Many of them ran towards it to get a better look, and that was when it stopped with a jerk, Rambler giving a sharp tug to the rope from his backpack, which he had tied to the back of the device. The abrupt halt to the skiff’s forward momentum also set off the other thing Rambler had prepared. He’d shaken one of the soda bottles, leaving its lid partially unscrewed and held on with more rope. At the sudden jolt the lid exploded off, spraying the skiff’s surroundings with sugary fizz.

In the same moment, Rambler dropped the rope and darted for the ramp leading up to the open cargo bay once again. He could hear shouts from the swat-soldiers, angry and shocked at first, but quickly changing to joy once the flavour of the liquid hit them. They dove for the unopened bottles on the skiff, and Rambler shared a victory smile with his friend. He just hoped there would be enough there to keep them occupied for the moment.
The braxiors had clearly taken notice and had decided to escape at the same time. After gaping at the spectacle for a second, the lizard-like creatures shared a glance with eyestalks waving, then hurried to push the final few boxes up the ramp and into the belly of the ship.

Rambler was halfway up the ramp himself when he glanced behind and skidded abruptly to a stop. The braxior child who had been watching him before wasn’t escaping with the rest of her clan. Instead, she had wandered a little away from the ship and was staring at the swat-soldiers clustered all over the skiff.

Rambler veered back around and down the ramp again. He ran to the child and picked her up, giving her a friendly smile and a wink when she started in surprise. The little braxior was almost as tall as he was and a little wider, and Rambler stumbled a bit at the added weight. All the crates were inside the blue ship by now, and he could hear the engine whirring to life. Gears connected and the ramp began to retract towards the ship. Rambler put on a burst of speed. He heard a sudden yell behind him. It seemed not all the soldiers had been focused on their surprise treat.

Rambler ignored the yelling. His chest felt like it was bursting, but he jumped for the ramp and managed to catch the edge with one hand. His other arm remained wrapped around the child he was carrying.

The nomad strained, trying to pull them both up on top of the retracting ramp. His arm shook and sweat broke out across his brow, but he couldn’t gain any ground. The best he could do was hang on. There wasn’t much ramp left now. It had almost all been pulled back into the belly of the big blue ship. His clutching fingers were nearing the slot beneath the door where the ramp was disappearing and Rambler didn’t think he had the strength or reflexes to let go and then grab the edge of the cargo bay’s floor. He braced himself as the ship came closer and heaved the child up and inside, almost losing his grip as the weight shifted. She landed safely, if a little dazed. Rambler swung his newly freed hand, furry fingers flailing to grab the edge of the ship. A firm blue hand grabbed his, and the nomad was pulled up and over the gap and into the cargo bay. He was set on his unsteady feet on the metal floor next to the little girl who tackled him in a very welcome hug.

The braxior who had saved him pushed a button and the big double doors closed, shutting out the sight of a few dozen angry swat-soldiers now heading for the ship. The floor lurched and the vessel was airborne. His host turned from the doors and gave Rambler a hefty pat to the back that almost knocked him over, but made that warm, welcome feeling rise up through him all the same.

“Good to meet ya, friend, and thanks for the lift!” Rambler said brightly. In more ways than one.

“Thank you!” the braxior returned. “I aught to have my eyes checked. If you hadn’t been there, it might have been too late before anyone noticed Bethany was missing.”

“Tweren’t nothin’.” Rambler smiled at Bethany who, seemingly turning shy, was hiding behind the older braxior’s legs. “Never hurts to help! ‘Tell you tha truth though,” he continued somewhat guiltily. “I needed a ride off m’self.”

“I thought you might.” There was a deep chuckle and the braxior lifted one hand, unrolling a very familiar looking poster. “Those troops outside were very insistent that we keep an eye out for you.” Rambler giggled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“That sounds like them,” he offered. “They’re eager fellas.”

The braxior chuckled again, then grabbed the other side of the poster with his other hand and ripped it neatly in two.

“Name’s Bri,” he said, dropping the two halves to the floor and wrapping his arm around the nomad’s thin shoulders. “What’s yours? And where are you headed, friend?”

“Folks call me Rambler.” The nomad paused for a moment. It seemed a little rude not to introduce his friend, but it was probably safest not to spill those particular beans, nice as these fellers seemed. He tipped the hat to Bri instead. “An’ I suppose I’m headin’ whichever way you are.”

“Well then that works out perfectly, doesn’t it?” Bri answered. Pleasure to meet you, Rambler. Let me introduce you to the rest of the tribe.

They headed up the stairs from the hold together, Bethany following behind. She seemed to get over her shyness partway up and Rambler smiled when he felt her hand slip into his. He definitely picked the right ship.
The hat’s brim was tilting up again, although it also seemed to be drooping a bit. Maybe it was tired. It had certainly been an eventful morning. His own limbs were still tingling a bit from all the stress he’d put them through. This planet had certainly been exciting, but he hoped they would have a little breathing room before any more excitement happened.

For now, there were some new folks to meet and a new planet to look forward to, and all with a buddy at his side. It didn’t get any better than that.

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions
Chapter Four: The Other Player

The cockpit of the braxior ship was spacious. It had to be. Braxiors were almost ten feet tall and about four feet wide, solidly built and reinforced by their bright blue scales, except for their waving eyestalks and the six, long fingers they had on each hand. When Rambler emerged from the top of the stairwell, he found himself facing quite a crowd. It seemed only a few members of the tribe had been outside on the tarmac.

Bri introduced him to the others and Rambler greeted his new friends enthusiastically. They were well clear of the atmosphere by now and he was feeling a little more relaxed. He was ready to take things slightly easier than they had been over the past few days.

It was while they were in the midst of all the enjoyable first meeting questions and answers that Rambler absolutely lived for when a blaring warning erupted from the front of the cockpit. At the same time a tremor hit the ship as their forward motion was arrested, then began again, but slowly and likely in a slightly different direction. They were caught in a tractor beam. Rambler and his hosts turned to see a massive black ship filling the viewscreen. The emblem on the ship, a particularly angular black head on a gray background, made Rambler’s stomach sink into his sneakers.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. That was a phrase that seemed to apply to Rambler’s life a little too much sometimes. When he’d figured out that Gragnar the Greedy and his antagonists had been driven off, he had assumed they hadn’t gone too far, but he hadn’t thought that they would be hovering right outside the planet’s orbit. Maybe the battle hadn’t been as over as he’d thought.

These thoughts flittered through the back of his mind as his eyes darted around the cockpit for somewhere he could hide.

Too late.

There was a bzzt of static, then the screen cleared to reveal Gragnar himself, seated on his throne of polished, gray rock. His gaze swept across the group of surprised braxiors and settled on Rambler in the middle, black, segmented body leaning forward as his eyes narrowed.

“You!” he spat. “There you are!”

Rambler waved, smile quirking at his face despite his trepidation.

“Hiya Mr. Gragnar!” he greeted. “It sure is nice to see you again! Ya look like yer doin’ pretty well after all that hubbub back at the palace.”

“Silence!” The harsh voice cut across the screen like the crack of a whip. Gragnar’s segmented eyes shifted, taking in the whole group of them and particularly Captain Brenda at the fore. His voice lowered to a grating purr. “Perhaps you were not aware that your clan is harboring a wanted fugitive.” He phrased it like a question, pausing to give the braxiors the chance to respond, and Rambler stepped smartly forward, recapturing the warlord’s attention, not without a silent apology to his companion.

“Well golly,” He exclaimed, letting his gaze trail over his hosts in an exaggerated way. “I don’t think we’ve all formally met. Sure is nice of you ta ask though! And I’m awful flattered that you remember me! I know there was a lot goin’ on back there. D’you remember my name?”

Gragnar’s eyes seemed to blaze, antennae twitching with rage as he leaned forward.

“I wasn’t asking you, thief!” he snarled.

“It’s Rambler!” Rambler proclaimed happily. “I was just passin’ by last time, so I wasn’t sure y’heard me.”

There was a tremor under his feet as the forward motion of the ship stopped altogether. They must have been pulled into the hanger.

“I am not interested and I do not care!” Gragnar’s claws were digging into his arm rests now, creating a spiderweb of cracks through the hard stone. The guy was a tad high-strung if you asked Rambler. “Cutter!” he yelled. A smaller antagonist slid unobtrusively in from the side. His lower two arms were filled with papers and folders while he made notations on a clipboard with the upper two.

“Yes, general?” His strained voice, in addition to the drooping antennae, made Rambler think Cutter could use some more sleep.

“Lock them up.” Gragnar shot Rambler a nasty grin. “All of them.” He paused as his eyes went back to Brenda. “If you and your crew cooperate, I might be convinced to let you go.” He turned again to Cutter beside him. “And get us out of here! I do not want to give old mouldy wings an opportunity to counterattack.” His eyes narrowed on Rambler’s face one final time. “And then I will deal with you,” he spat.

“See you soon!” Rambler gave a little wave as the feed cut off abruptly.

Despite himself, Rambler couldn’t stop the anxiety that twisted through his belly. He wasn’t really worried about himself. He’d been captured before, quite frequently in fact, and things had always managed to work out. But he wasn’t used to protecting someone else in those situations, and this time was especially worrying, since his friend was what the warlord was after. He didn’t want them to get separated, or for the hat to end up back in the situation he’d found it in.

The braxiors looked around at each other and at Rambler, concern growing to fear on many faces. There was now the distinct sound of the outside door being accessed.

“Okay, partners!” Brenda barked suddenly. Everyone turned to look her way. “We’ve been through some tricky astral currents before and this is no different. For now, we do what he said: we cooperate, at least up to a point.” Her eyestalks waved in a warning pattern before she turned to Rambler. “You seemed to know him a little. What are our chances of getting out of here?”

Rambler clasped his hands subconsciously.

“I don’t actually know him all that well, ’m afraid. Motivated fella from what I’ve seen, an’ he’s prolly not that interested in you ‘r yer fine ship here, so ya might be in luck.” He truly hoped they were. His hand tightened around the hat brim protectively as he heard the wrenching noise that meant the door had finally been pulled open, then many feet climbing the stairs to the cockpit.

At least it sounded like they weren’t about to be separated just yet. Rambler wondered if the warlord had been keeping the hat’s secret from his soldiers, even after everything they must have seen at the palace. He hadn’t instructed them to take the hat immediately and bring it to him, but instead to imprison all of them. That was something.

The next second the door burst open and antagonists flooded into the cockpit, a sea of waving, black antennae and gray suits, their deep red belts the only slashes of colour. Each soldier carried a curved astral saber and a blast gun, and they waved the weapons around with such reckless abandon that Rambler was worried they were going to hurt themselves.

Cuffs were slapped onto his wrists and he was roughly herded out of the ship along with the braxiors. He went along with it for the time being. There wasn’t really an opportunity to do anything else.

Their new hosts were grimly silent, and that seemed slightly concerning to Rambler. Perhaps they didn’t enjoy their jobs very much, or maybe they were just having a tough day. Gragnar didn’t seem like the most considerate boss from what little he’d seen of him. Either way, Rambler figured it couldn’t hurt to at least make some friendly conversation. He nudged the soldier next to him with one elbow, giving her a sympathetic smile over the blast gun pointed at his middle.

“Havin’ a rough day? Must be hard to find time to yerself with all this goin’ on.” He nodded at the crowded hallway they were currently marching down. “I know what it’s like when travelin’ gets a little hectic.” He’d been having a bit of that himself lately. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too! Sometimes you’ve just gotta take some time to relax, even when things’r busy.”

A few of the antagonists surrounding him exchanged looks, antennae twitching self-consciously.

“It has been kind of busy,” the guard Rambler had addressed muttered. “We don’t get a lot of time off.”

“Especially right now,” the soldier next to her put in.

“And when we do get a break, there’s nothing to do except hang out in the mess hall and the barracks.”

Heads nodded around the group and Rambler clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Well, that’s no good. Everyone needs some downtime every now an’ again. How can ya be expected ta face that daily grind without somethin’ fun to do at the end of the day?” He was just opening his mouth again to make some suggestions; the antagonist beside him looked like a yoga feller to Rambler, when a harsh voice cut across the chatter.

“Stop that talking! Straiten up and eyes forward!” As one, the antagonists snapped to attention, one of them shooting Rambler a suspicious look as she did so. Rambler recognized Cutter from the view screen, though he wasn’t sure of the antagonist’s rank. Wanting to be polite, he waved his bound hands.

“Hey there, Mr. Cutter! Sorry ‘bout the noise. I was just tryin’ to see if these fine folks needed…”

“That’s enough out of you!” Cutter snapped. He marched up to Rambler, pushing past the guards, and poked him in the chest with the small baton he was carrying. “The general may be too busy to deal with you at the moment, but soon you’ll be sorry you ever messed with the future ruler of the galaxy.”

Rambler gave a small shrug, smile softening a little.

“Well, I am sorry if I’ve caused any problems,” he offered sincerely. “I wasn’t tryin’ to put you and yer friends out. An’ if you need any help cleaning up after that big battle, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“No!” Cutter screamed. His antennae vibrated in fury and his four feet practically left the floor as he shoved his angular face closer to Rambler’s. Rambler noticed the bags under his segmented eyes with concern. “We don’t want any ‘help’ from a filthy outlaw like you! Now,” he pulled back and addressed the soldiers. “Get him out of my sight, and no more fraternizing with the prisoners!”

Rambler was lead away. Before they turned the corner, he managed to give the antagonist another wave over his shoulder.

“See you soon, Mr. Cutter! Ya might want to try some warm milk before bed, or maybe some peppermint tea!” There were a few chuckles, quickly hushed, from some of the soldiers around him.

They reached the prisons only a few minutes later. The braxiors were put into several cells along one wall, and Rambler found himself pushed into a cell on the other. The soldiers filed out of the cellblock, though it was likely that some would remain outside to guard the door.

The hat was being awfully still. That seemed a strange thing to notice; it was a hat after all, but there was a certain stiffness to the way it sat on his head, and Rambler could see none of the expressiveness he had noticed previously. His friend was probably frightened, and Rambler desperately wanted to reassure it, let it know that everything would be okay, but he also didn’t want to draw attention to it right now. The soldiers may not have been told about its abilities, but some of them probably suspected something, especially after the scene at the palace a few days before. He was still surprised it hadn’t been taken from him immediately. Gragnar must have confidence in his prisons.

Rambler went up to the front of his cell and peered out through the bars, looking to left and right down the long corridor. No antagonists were in sight. He gave a friendly wave and a wink to the braxiors across the way. Bethany had been sniffling and Bri was reassuring her. Rambler would have liked to help, but he didn’t think he had long before Gragnar came to get his friend. Before that happened, maybe it was time they had a talk.

Rambler retreated again to the back of the cell, curling up on the hard, metal cot. He took off the hat, setting it in his lap instead. He thought it might be easier to talk quietly like that. He didn’t exactly know how this was going to work, but he’d been wondering about some things ever since they’d met. He needed some answers now if they were going to work together to get out of here, and the hat probably did too. They were still getting to know each other after all, and it was probably still a little unsure about him after the circumstances he’d found it in.

It really had been the strangest meeting, and Rambler couldn’t help thinking back to how it had all started.

He hadn’t exactly intended to steal the hat.

He’d arrived on the planet in the morning a few days before. It was sort of overcast, but not quite raining; a lovely day for a stroll, and Rambler had been taking full advantage of it.

He’d noticed the palace from quite far away. Two huge ships were parked beside it, hovering over the beige stone edifice ominously, and he could hear the sounds of the two armies fighting even from this distance. It seemed like it had been going on for quite some time. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but he still found himself heading that way. It looked like a pretty rough conflict, and he felt that he had to see if there was anything he could do.

He was still well out from the palace when he heard a rumble, followed by what sounded like a dull explosion. Something gushed out of the palace’s windows, a torrent of strange and varied objects. As he drew nearer, he could make some of them out; paintings, statues, glittering gold and gemstones intermixed with a variety of deadly looking weapons and warlike vehicles.

Rambler put on more speed towards the castle, worried there might be people trapped inside. The big front doors had been ripped from their hinges and lay buried under piles of treasure, guns and land mines, but the frantic gush of objects had slowed somewhat by this time and Rambler was able to pick his way through the mess and into the castle halls.

Once inside, he could hear angry voices screaming at each other, along with crashes and ominous thumps. He did his best to make his way towards the source. It sounded like two people fighting. Objects still flowed past him like a sluggish river, and he had to choose his footing carefully. Most of the soldiers he passed looked dazed, and didn’t seem to be fighting any more, so he left them after a quick glance to make sure they were alright for the time being.

When he reached the throne room it was awash with treasures and weapons; great heaps piled up almost to the high ceiling. They were still trickling down from the highest heap, more lazily now as though whatever was causing this was running out of steam.

Rambler climbed the pile carefully, avoiding the occasional treasure chest or armoured car. He could hear the yelling voices from further in the room, but he was curious now, and he didn’t think they needed immediate help. They didn’t sound hurt, just angry, and the language they were using was a little colourful for Rambler’s tastes.

He reached the top of the pile. Across the hall, he could see the fighters. He’d heard of both of them as soon as he had arrived in this galaxy. Gragnar the Greedy and Hive Queen Slarina were galactic conquerors and former allies who had turned on each other, plunging much of the galaxy into a civil war. He’d heard they were both organized and dangerous, but he didn’t see much of that right now. Soldiers lay in heaps across the room, bruised and battered, and no longer in any shape to fight. Only the two leaders were still going at it; pushing and shoving and scratching each other in the center of the hall, and hurling all kinds of verbal abuse every which way.
Rambler spared them only a glance for the moment. At his feet objects continued flowing forth from what seemed to be their source; a battered green hat.

The hat lay on its side on the pile, crown swollen with the items it was creating. It was patched and faded, and the green colour looked almost sickly. It gave a shuddery cough, expelling another stream of items, some so large they couldn’t possibly have fit inside it.

Rambler felt his heart twist in his chest. Whatever the hat was doing, it was clear that making the items was hurting it. He knelt beside it on a heap of expensive looking rugs.

“You doin’ okay, buddy?” He put one hand on the hatband, rubbing gentle circles. “Just breathe,” he advised. The hat shuddered again, spitting out a diamond as big as his head and a spiked shield. The brim trembled and Rambler’s heart went out to it even more. He picked the hat up gently, cradling it with the brim over his shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright,” he murmured. “Listen to the soothing sound of my voice. You don’t have to do that. Just relax.” The items stopped and the hat slumped, empty, against him. It still didn’t look well, and Rambler continued murmuring softly to it for another minute before he noticed the shouting from before had stopped.
He looked over the edge of the pile to see that both combatants had stopped fighting and were staring right at him. Rambler froze, meeting two sets of furious eyes.

“Hey you, give that to me! It’s mine!” Slarina snarled.

“No, it is mine! bring it here!” Gragnar shoved Slarina back, starting towards Rambler with a scowl.

The hat seemed to shrink a little in Rambler’s arms and he tightened his hold on it defensively. He gave a little nod to the two rulers, not wanting to let go of the hat to wave.

“Good ta meet you, Queen Slarina, General Gragnar!” he called out. “Folks call me Rambler! I’d love to stay ‘n chat, but I think this feller needs some air, so if you’ll excuse me…” He was scanning the pile of items to find an easy path down.

The two rulers had continued advancing while he talked, and he was pretty sure they hadn’t been listening to him since they’d continued yelling the whole time. That was a little rude if you asked Rambler, but he supposed it was a bit of a stressful situation. They threw themselves at the pile and the nomad felt it sway under his feet. He braced himself as the whole thing tilted, then felt his feet sliding as the pile began to collapse.

Well, this could actually work out pretty nicely. Rambler took a flying leap and landed on an embossed golden shield. He caught hold of the handle with one hand, slipping the hat onto his head as he did so, and slid down the pile, gaining speed as it collapsed and items pushed and shoved from behind him.

He landed at the bottom without a scratch and was off for the door without sparing a glance for angry voices behind him. He could hear the voices rising in volume as both combatants continued shouting abuse, at him this time, along with demands and plenty of threats thrown in.

Normally he wouldn’t have rushed off so quickly upon meeting some new potential friends. Sure, they didn’t seem all that friendly at the moment, but it was like he always said; an enemy was just a friend you hadn’t made yet, and he would have liked to spend some time getting to know them, but the hat was clearly frightened and that was more important than spending more time with Slarina and Gragnar right now. He was sure he’d run into them again.

A few soldiers tried to stop him as he darted through the hallways, still having to climb over the carpet of objects, but they all looked pretty dazed still, despite the angry voices of their bosses egging them on, And Rambler was able to avoid them pretty easily.

Then he was out, and making for the relative cover of the forest, the hat drooping on his head, and Rambler still a little confused, but happy that he seemed to be on his way to making at least one new friend.

They really hadn’t been together too long after they escaped from the palace, only a few days, and most of that had been spent on the run. The hat looked healthier than it had been; the green richer and the scuffs and scratches much less noticeable. Normally, Rambler wouldn’t want to rush their friendship, or the trust they were building together. He knew the hat had been through a lot, certainly more than he’d seen, and he didn’t always know what it wanted to do, or even whether it would want to keep traveling with him once they were well away from the two rulers. He didn’t want to push it, but he knew he was going to need its help to get them all out of here safely.

He hoped it would be willing to hear him out.

Giving his friend a nervous smile, he clasped his hands and began.

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions
Chapter Five: The Promise

“I’ve been travelin’ for a long time,” Rambler started. “An’ I won’t bore ya with all the details of where it all began right now, but I’ve seen my fair share o’ galaxies afore I got to this one. I’ve helped a whole buncha folks, an’ even ran into some trouble a time or two.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk about his past, but more that he’d much rather look to the present and the future. There were so many new places to visit and new friends to make, and his own story wasn’t really as interesting as all the others unfolding around him.

“I’m not a hero,” he continued, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue. “An’ don’t get me wrong; heroes are really somethin’ special. Real ambitious folks, an’ most of ‘em do a whole lotta good fer those around them. But still, I don’t suppose I could ever be one.”

He smiled down at the hat in his lap. It was looking pretty droopy. Things would probably be a little easier for all of them right now if he was a hero, but he didn’t want to start off their friendship with false expectations.

“‘Fraid I’m just a wanderer who travels from place ta place an’ likes ta lend a helpin’ hand now an’ again.”

The hat somehow gave the impression it was annoyed, and Rambler chuckled sheepishly.

“I know, I know. It’s a little more ‘en now and again. I have ta help everyone I can, an’ I know it’s not fer everyone. Same with the travelin’.” He paused again, mind unwillingly drawn back into the past, to friends who’d stayed behind. “I guess mos’ folks need a settled life. They need ta look after ‘emselves and their planets an’ I don’t blame ‘em. But I guess that’s never been fer me. I wanna see it all, help everyone I meet an’ have fun doin’ it.”

Another pause, looking seriously down at his companion. He had to say this properly.

“And I don’ know if that’s what you want. These past few days, it’s been real nice to travel with you.” Rambler brushed some imaginary dust off the hat’s crown. It was truer than his friend knew. It was nice to have someone to share stories and songs with and someone to sleep beside at night near a crackling camp fire. It was fun to travel with a friend; to have adventures and see new things with them. But he’d be okay on his own too. He was used to folks staying behind on the planets he visited, or finding a new home after only a few brief stops.

“Once all this is over, well, I’d like you ta stay, but only if’n ya want to. If there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, or someone ya need ta get back to, I’d be happy to take you there. An’ if ya do decide to travel with me, you can stop at any time. We’ll still be friends, even if we’re galaxies apart.

“But you can stay with me as long as ya want, an’ I’ll be mighty grateful as long as ya do.”

Rambler took a steadying breath, looking down and trying to gage the hat’s reaction to what was admittedly quite a speech.

He knew he’d had to say it, especially because he needed the hat’s help to get them all out of here. There couldn’t be trust in a relationship without freedom, and he needed it to know that he wasn’t going to force it into a life it didn’t want.

It was hard to tell how it was reacting, but he thought the green looked a little brighter, the set of the brim a little less droopy.

“But fer right now…” Rambler let his gaze trail across to the front of their cell, the corridor outside and the braxiors across the way. “Right now, we need ta help ourselves and our friends an’ get out of here b’fore they come to take you away. I don’t mean ta let that happen. I’m not sure what we can do exactly, but I expect it’ll all work out. Even so though, I’d really ‘preciate some help.” He gave his friend a serious look, taking in the tight set of the stitching in the seams, then he slipped the hat back on his head. He peered up at the overhanging brim, giving it a conspiratorial little grin. “You just do what you do, an’ I’ll do what I do, an’ we’ll see if’n we can meet in the middle,” he told it.

He still wasn’t sure how much help it would be comfortable providing, but he’d have to trust it if he expected it to trust him. The most important part was taking that first step, and he hoped that being clear with his motives and expectations would help.

Now, he turned his attention to the bars of their cell. It certainly wasn’t the first cell he’d been in, and he examined it carefully with a touch of a connoisseur’s eye. The cell was small and cold, made entirely of metal, with the bars welded to the ceiling and floor. They were close together and thicker than his wrists. The cell, and indeed the whole corridor, was very clean, which spoke well of the housekeeping staff, but left him a little less to work with. There were no potentially useful objects lying about the floor. Rambler felt at a bit of a loss the more he examined it.

The fact was, for all the times he’d been imprisoned, he hadn’t really done much escaping from those prisons. Usually, he’d just wait to see where things went. Galactic conquerors didn’t tend to just leave you in prison after all. Most of the time there was something they wanted to show you or talk to you about, and Rambler could just give them a little time to send their soldiers to march him to the throne room or torture chamber or something. Things got a little easier after that.

Except this time, he wasn’t sure that was the best idea. It was concerning that his friend could be taken from him at any time, so it looked like he’d have to make the first move this time around.

Peering out through the bars and down the metal corridor, Rambler could just see the two guards who’d been tasked with watching the door. They didn’t look like they were enjoying the job all that much, leaning on their sabers and chatting quietly in a bored way. One gave a yawn and Rambler’s brow furrowed slightly. It looked like Cutter wasn’t the only antagonist who wasn’t getting enough sleep. In the back of his mind, he made a mental note to check the bedding situation on the ship, at a later date most likely.

Leaning out through the bars as far as he could, Rambler gave a wave to the soldiers, trying to get their attention.

“Hey fellers!” he called, giving them the brightest grin he could muster. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got a minute or two ta chat.”

It felt like the hat stiffened slightly on his head, and Rambler had to resist the urge to reassure it, as the two soldiers strode up to the cell. He’d just have to hope it would trust him on this.

“Hey, what’s all the racket?” One antagonist tilted his head slightly, antennae waving sternly. His companion seemed less worked up, more bored of the whole situation. “What’s the matter, little guy?” the first soldier continued in a menacing tone. “Feeling lonely? The general’ll see to you soon enough.”

“Well, that’s awfully kind of him, ‘specially as he seems pretty busy.” Rambler addressed the soldier who’d spoken, though he kept smiling at them both, to include his companion in the conversation. “An’ I don’t mean ta be a bother, but it occurred ta me we didn’t get a chance ta get acquainted. Folks call me Rambler. What’s your name?”

The antagonist he’d spoken to looked slightly taken aback. Poor guy. Rambler got the impression he didn’t get introduced to a lot of folks, which was an awful shame, given how many planets Gragnar’s ship seemed to travel to. One of the best parts of traveling was getting to meet new people and see new things, and he hated to think of the soldiers missing out.

“Uh, it’s Rob,” the antagonist offered after a moment uncertainly.

“Nice ta meetcha, Rob!” Rambler turned to the other antagonist. “How about you?” The other soldier let out a noticeable sigh, her segmented gaze focused on Rob, rather than Rambler.

“Why are you bothering to talk to him, Rob?” she demanded, still radiating boredom. “Not like he’s going to be here long. Besides,” her accusing gaze swept over Rambler finally, though she still didn’t seem to fully see him.
“Did you hear what Cutter said? He’s bad news. You want to get us yelled at again?”

Rob looked down at his boots, antenna drooping. Rambler stroked his chin.

“I don’t wanna intrude,” he started hesitantly. “An’ I know I haven’t exactly spent too much time with y’all, but Mr. Cutter seems a li’l high-strung, tell ya the truth. Has he been sleepin’ okay?”

The unnamed soldier snorted before she could catch herself, leaning forward on her saber. Rob gasped, antenna twitching in agitation.

“You can’t say that!” he cautioned.

“Why? ‘S he a little sensitive about it?” Rambler asked in a whisper, one hand shielding his mouth. Cutter had seemed like someone who didn’t ask others for help that often.

“More like ‘a little sensitive’ about everything,” the soldier scoffed.

“Alina!” Rob sounded shocked.

“What?” Alina lowered her voice slightly, but still looked askance at her companion.

“You were the one who said we were going to get in trouble!”

Alina shrugged one shoulder, flipping her saber cavalierly.

“Yeah, but he’s not here. He’s probably too busy throwing off Slarina’s pursuit right now.” She shot a glance at Rambler. “Guess you’re not that bad. But you might want to watch the attitude when the general does get around to dealing with you. I don’t know what you did, but Cutter seemed pretty angry about it.”

“Thanks, I ‘preciate the warning.” Rambler smiled warmly again. He could understand how Cutter would be angry about what he’d done, and that was a shame, but he certainly didn’t regret helping the hat. The two soldiers seemed slightly taken aback at the smile. Rob looked down at his boots.

“Well, guess we’d better get back to guarding,” he mumbled after a moment.

Rambler waved happily as they headed back to their posts at the door. At least he was on his way to making some new friends. He was about to turn his attention back to examining the cell, when his eye was drawn to something on the floor of the corridor. He peered out through the bars again, noting that Rob and Alina were chatting in low tones, their eyes on each other. Then he knelt on the stone floor, stretching his arm gingerly through the bars and along the floor until he could just snag the object with one finger. He drew it back carefully into the cell with him.

It was a key. It was the same dark metal as the bars of the cell, and felt disproportionately heavy in his hands.

Rob or Alina must have dropped it while they were chatting. Rambler bit his lip. Normally he’d return anything he found right away, and he did feel a little guilty as he drew back from the bars again to examine his find. Still, this was important. He hoped they wouldn’t mind if he made some use of the key before returning it. He didn’t want his new friends to get in trouble though. He’d have to find a way to slip it back to them before Mr. Cutter returned.

In the mean time, much as he liked Rob and Alina, he had to find a way to get himself and his braxior friends out without them noticing.

He paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Rob yawned again, leaning forward on his saber, and Rambler smiled slightly. There was an idea. If everything went well, his new friends would get some of the rest they clearly needed, and he’d be able to get his other friends out of danger.

Slipping his backpack off, Rambler opened the drawstring and drew out his banjo. It had seen better days, being many years old at this point. It was battered from his various adventures and he’d had to restring it many times, but it was important to him. It kept him company when he was traveling alone and gave him encouragement when he was feeling down. Now he’d see if it could help him once again.

He sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bars, laying the instrument across his lap and beginning to tune it. The hat brim overhung his eyes slightly, and Rambler smiled up at it. What with the constant pursuit and having to remain in hiding for the last few days, he hadn’t had a chance to play any songs for his companion yet.

He was still thinking about their first meeting, and about his own travels across the galaxies. A song was tugging at his mind, and he let it out without thinking, as he usually did. His hands positioned themselves automatically, and he began to strum, keeping the melody light and gentle, soft and lilting, letting it carry through the cellblock in a warm blanket of sound. He couldn’t see the soldiers, so he wasn’t sure how they were reacting, but no one shouted at him to stop, so they must not mind the music. He took a deep breath and began to sing, matching his voice to the gentle warbling of the banjo.

Oh, I’ve traveled many places,
‘Round this ol’ galaxy,
Gone everywhere I could
To see what I could see.

I saw Flinder’s flowing fountains
Surfed on lava at Bangoon
I slept in floating castles
An’ climbed a huge sand dune.

I swam in countless oceans,
An’ picnicked in a dell,
Yet something was still missin’.
What it was I could not tell.

An’ though I checked mos’ everywhere
From burg to farm to town
I didn’t know what I was lookin’ for
Or whether up or down.

Now you were locked up tightly,
There was no help ta be found,
An’ I knew that you were hurtin’
Though I could not hear a sound.

I came an’ took you from that place,
It was all that I could do,
An’ now I’ve stopped my lookin’
‘Cause what I’ve found is you.

Oh, I’ve traveled many places,
Seen many planets, yes, it’s true,
An’ now I see ‘em differently,
‘Cause I see them with you.

Rambler finished his song, letting the final notes linger in the air. Peering down the corridor once more, he saw that the two soldiers had fallen asleep, leaning together and slumped against the door they were supposed to be guarding. Rambler smiled a little at how cute they looked, snuggling together. Still, he’d have to remember to check up on the bedding in the barracks. He didn’t like that the antagonists all seemed bored and short of sleep.

Rambler stood, slipping his banjo back into his backpack and slinging it on his back once more. He slipped one arm out through the bars of the door, and felt around for the lock, slipping the key inside and turning it.

He was rewarded with a click, and the cell door swung open. The braxiors had been watching all this silently. Rambler held one orange finger to his lips in a gesture to keep quiet, and Bri nodded, pulling Bethany closer to his side.

Rambler unlocked their door as well. Then, after some thought, he carefully closed and relocked both doors. He was sorry if Cutter was frustrated later about how exactly they’d gotten out, but he didn’t want Rob and Alina to get yelled at again. It sounded like that happened too much to them already.

Moving quietly up to the door out of the cellblock, Rambler looked down at the sleeping soldiers. Brenda made to move forward, one fist raised, but Rambler shook his head emphatically and she stopped. With Bri and Brenda helping him, they carefully lifted the soldiers and moved them slightly to the side so the door would open, Rambler slipping the key into Rob’s pocket as they did so.

Rambler noticed the corners of the hat pulling up slightly, and something soft touched his head. Reaching inside the hat, he pulled out two small pillows. His smile widened and he slipped the pillows under his friends’ heads before opening the door. He felt a warm glow inside at the hat’s kindness, especially after what it had probably been through in this very ship.

The hard part was still ahead of them. Corridors and corridors lay between them and the braxior ship, and yet Rambler had to supress the urge to whistle.

He was sure things would work out, especially now he had such an awesome team to help him.

Rambler started down the corridor, his steps as light as his heart. Things always looked brighter with friends by your side.

Chapter Text

Traveling Companions
Chapter Six: The Escape

Once through the door and into the inner hallways of the great ship, it became apparent why Gragnar had not yet found the time to deal with his prisoners.

Alarms blared through the corridors, and running feet and shouting voices could be distantly heard. Apparently Slarina was really not a fan of Gragnar leaving. Maybe all she really wanted was a chance to talk it out. Rambler really would have liked to help with that, but he needed to get his friends out right now. Maybe another time.

The nomad peered around a corner into what was probably the mess hall. It was pretty empty at the moment, some of the stark, wooden benches overturned as though the soldiers had run out in haste when the alarms began.

“Anyone remember the way to the hanger bay?” Brenda asked from behind him. There was a chorus of shaking heads. Rambler wasn’t too sure himself. This hadn’t been the way they’d been escorted, and the ship was very large.

“Maybe we should ask for directions,” he suggested.

“…Maybe.” Rambler caught Bri’s eye and saw the braxior looked uncomfortable at the suggestion. He understood. The antagonists hadn’t exactly given the best first impression. Poor guys probably didn’t get to meet many new people in a social situation. Gragnar seemed like the kind of boss to discourage that sort of thing. Rambler could already tell the general wasn’t the best at supporting his soldiers’ needs.

“What about findin’ a map? I haven’t been on this ship before, but there’s bound to be one around here somewheres.”

The ship shook and Rambler had to grab onto a table to stay on his feet. Having lower centers of gravity and generally being built more solidly, the braxiors were able to maintain their balance better.

Rambler straitened up, glancing across the mess hall, then froze at the sea of waving antennae that filled the doorway.

Apparently not all the soldiers were helping to repel the attack.

His companions saw them at the same moment, though the soldiers didn’t seem to have noticed them yet. Rambler leaned into Brenda’s side, one hand sheltering his mouth.

“You guys go find the ship. I’ll catch up,” he whispered.

Brenda opened her mouth to object, but Rambler didn’t give her a chance to argue. He sauntered forward into the mess hall, headed directly for the crowd of soldiers.

“Howdy, fellas! Don’t s’pose I could trouble you for some directions?” He sensed the braxiors moving back behind him, and hoped they were heading out the door.

The response from the antagonists was immediate. As soon as Rambler started forward, dozens of black, angular heads swivelled in his direction, antennae perking up and hands tightening on their weapons.

“You there! halt!” A soldier in the front demanded. Rambler stopped walking obligingly, smiling at the antagonists as they surrounded him on all sides. His hat was stiff on his head and he couldn’t blame it. This certainly was a troubling situation.

“How’re things going?” He asked, directing his question at the antagonist who had spoken. “Sounded like a bit of a ruckus out there.”

“Well, yeah.” The soldier tugged one antennae self consciously. “Queen Slarina’s attacking and we’re all supposed to scramble. We were just going to…hey!” He snapped to attention suddenly. Pointing his weapon in Rambler’s face. “That’s none of your business! Weren’t you a prisoner?”

“Pretty sure Mr. Gragnar did wanna talk to me,” Rambler admitted. He was eyeing the ring of soldiers for a way out. Not that he wanted to leave, but he was pretty sure getting taken back to his cell right now wouldn’t be helpful. Besides, his new friends would be waiting for him at the ship, and he didn’t want them to worry.

The soldier seized Rambler’s arm, still levelling his blaster at the nomad’s head.

“I don’t know how you got out of there, but you’re going back…”

Noticing something, Rambler slipped his arm out of the clawed hand, darting around to one of the other antagonists in the ring and cocking his head to examine the black exoskeleton, which looked to be badly singed.

“Y’all right there, friend?” he enquired. “Looks like ya took a nasty hit.”

“Oh, um, I’m okay.” The soldier kicked his foot as though embarrassed. “Our armor’s pretty thick so…”

“Hey!” The antagonist Rambler had been talking with before snapped again, turning with a glare. “Get him!”

Rambler ducked behind his new friend, finding himself outside the ring of weapons.

“Sorry fellas,” he offered sincerely. “I’d love ta stay an’ chat some more, but I don’t have much time at the moment. I promise I’ll see y’all soon!”

Then he was off, the antagonists hard on his heals. It really was a shame he wasn’t able to hang out longer. He’d have to remember to visit again soon, which probably wouldn’t be a problem with both rulers after him.

Rambler skidded around corners and darted down hallways, stopping occasionally to straiten a sign on the wall or tidy something that had been left on the floor. He had no clear destination in mind, but he thought he recognized some of the hallways they’d been taken down, and tried to head in that direction. Occasionally he bumped into a new group of antagonists, and he had quite a crowd after him by the time he ducked into a different type of room and froze, eyes traveling down the long hall to the figure on the throne at the far end. The soldiers crowded in behind him, but his mind wasn’t on them for the moment.

He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

General Gragnar started up from his throne, segmented eyes bulging with surprise. Commander Cutter at his side looked equally shocked, the papers he was holding slipping from his clawed hand.

Rambler chuckled softly, raising a hand in a sheepish wave.

Gragnar seemed to recover quickly, leaning forward and steepling his long fingers.

“Well, well, it seems the thief shows his face once again.” He shot a glare in Cutter’s direction. “Didn’t I order that he be locked up.”

“I – we – did lock him up, sir!” Cutter still seemed a little flustered. “How did he escape? You there!” he barked at the soldiers. “Seize him!”

Rambler had recovered by this time as well. He strode smartly forward, noticing absently as some of the soldiers behind him bumped into each other trying to grab at him.

“Now, there’s no call for that sorta behavior,” he admonished cheerfully. He wagged a finger in Gragnar’s direction, taking another step forward as his new friends clustered closer behind him. “I know you’ve got a lot goin’ on at the moment, an’ I don’t wanna get in the way. I was jes’ about ta ask these nice fellers for directions when…”

“Silence!” Gragnar stood from his throne, the spines on his back bristling in his anger. He gave Rambler a piercing look. “There is no need to ask how you escaped. I know it very well. Instead, I would like to know why I shouldn’t have my soldiers strike your head clean from your shoulders right now as punishment for stealing my property?”

Rambler had listened politely, all while working his way up the throne room. Now he sidestepped one final time, then bounced up the steps to stand on the raised dais. He leant against the chiseled rock throne, gesturing with one hand while he talked.

“‘S a matter of opinion, I s’pose,” he offered casually. “I can see how ya might’ve been upset about it, an’ I don’t blame ya fer feelin’ that, but I think ya could try lookin’ at it from another perspective. I think you’n Miss Slarina could’a been a li’l more understandin’. That was no way ta treat a friend!”

“You -” Gragnar cut himself off. He seemed to be trying to stay calm. “You little orange rat! How dare you seek to lecture to me. That hat belongs to me and I will have it back, and then I shall decide your gruesome fate!”

Rambler didn’t pay too much attention to the words. He was more focused on the harsh tone they were delivered in and the way Gragnar’s eye twitched. He definitely needed to calm down. The nomad took a step that brought him behind the general slightly, Gragnar’s reaching claw just missing him as he did so. The antagonist was tall, significantly taller than his soldiers, and Rambler gave a little hop onto one arm of the throne so he could get the height he needed. He tisked through his teeth.

“You haven’t been gettin’ enough sleep either, have you Mr. Gragnar?” He admonished gently. An’ these shoulders just look all knotted up with tension!”

Gragnar turned sharply, though somewhat stiffly, Rambler noticed with concern.

“Get off of that!” He snarled.

Rambler obliged, jumping off the other side of the big stone chair so that it was between him and the antagonists.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “but I’m not a bad masseuse m’self, an I’d be happy ta help ya relax those muscles…”

Gragnar’s eye twitched again. The soldiers were closing in around the dais and Cutter had moved in front of his leader, pushing a button on his baton that seemed to charge it with electricity.

“Take off the hat.” Gragnar’s voice was a low growl.

Rambler frowned. He’d love to oblige, but that wasn’t something he was willing to do. He could feel how stiff the fabric was on his head and knew he needed to get his friend out of here. It was clearly not enjoying this.

He took another step around the throne, though he was uncomfortably aware that he was running out of space to maneuver with antagonists closing in on all sides.

A sudden touch on his head startled him for an instant until he remembered where it had probably come from.

He reached a hand up inside the hat, hearing Gragnar utter a furious oath as he did so.

“Don’t you dare!” The general snarled. He took another menacing step towards Rambler, then froze as the nomad’s hand came back into view, clutching something from the depths of the headpiece.

“Now, what’ve we got here?” Rambler mused. Distantly, he noticed the frightened reactions of those surrounding him. Perhaps they thought the hat had given him a weapon of some kind like those he’d seen in Slarina’s palace.

The object was small, and it took him a moment to recognize it himself. When he did, he straitened, holding it above his head with both hands.

“I’d sure appreciate it if y’all could hold on a second,” he requested. The antagonists, who had started to edge closer froze once again. Their attention was intensely focused on the object he was holding, and Rambler figured they were trying to get a good look at it. Before they could, he swung it around himself to point right at Gragnar, then pulled the tag.

The general floundered backwards along with his soldiers as a shower of confetti rained around his dumbfounded face. Rambler didn’t give them a chance to recover from the party popper. He took his opportunity and ran.

He ducked around the throne again and back toward the door, ignoring the sudden yelling from behind him, the furious scramble as the antagonists pounded after him.

Just as he was about to dart through, his forward momentum was arrested abruptly. Gragnar had given a flying leap and caught his backpack with one curved black claw.

Rambler didn’t have time to think about it. He slipped his arms out of the straps and was through the door, his back suddenly uncomfortably light. He felt a sharp pang as he heard the bag hit the metal floor behind him, his old banjo giving a reproachful jangle as it struck, but he hadn’t exactly had a choice. Another moment and he could have been caught, and keeping the hat safe was more important. He felt it heavy on his head at every angry yell from behind him.

He didn’t look back as he ran down the hallway.

The braxiors were waiting at the ship, and Rambler was incredibly grateful that they were. He was feeling uncommonly tired, and the amount of time he’d gone without eating was starting to catch up with him.

A group of antagonists must have taken a break from repelling Slarina’s attack to try and recapture the vessel, and when Rambler arrived in the hanger bay, it was to find the soldiers slumped every which way on the floor, and the braxiors laying the last few out cold. It was a shame they hadn’t been able to talk it out, but Rambler supposed it was a bit early for that.

He flashed his friends a smile, waving as he ran across the littered floor. They looked happy when they saw him, despite the trouble they’d gotten into because of him, and the whole group of them piled into the ship, pulling the door closed before more antagonists could arrive.

Rambler didn’t know anything about engineering, but gathered that Bri had managed to disable the tractor beam that had been holding them. The hanger bay doors opened and the bright blue ship shot through them.

The firefight outside was still going; thin, needle nosed one-seated ships darting every which way, and the area around the ship was thick with laser fire.

Rambler backed to one wall that wasn’t covered in instrumentation and let himself sink to the ground. Brenda was barking orders and the other braxiors were hurrying to follow them as they evaded the wide shots and made for open space. They seemed to have everything in hand for the moment.

Rambler brought a hand up to stroke the brim of the hat, just to make sure it was still there. It seemed just as droopy as he felt.

He smiled when Bethany came over to plop down beside him, looking as exhausted as both of them. It must have been a long day for the little tyke. He gave her a reassuring half hug, then they sat together and watched as the ship got further and further from the battle.

Rambler stood on a hilltop, waving as the braxior’s ship lifted off once more. His smile was wide, though inside he felt a twist of melancholy, as he always did when he had to say goodbye to good friends.

They had offered to let him travel with him, but he had declined. There was still a very large target on his back from both Slarina and Gragnar, and probably would be for a while. The braxiors were peaceful traders, and he didn’t want to keep causing trouble for them. He hoped they’d see each other again sometime though, and he was going to miss their comfortable presence.

At least this time, when he said goodbye, he still had a friend with him.

When the ship was out of sight, he turned and started descending the hillside. It was strange not to have his backpack, and his shoulders felt very bare. The braxiors had given him some food to start him on his way, and he was carrying it in a pouch under his arm, but what he was really missing was his banjo. It had accompanied him through many adventures and been his only constant companion until he’d met the hat, and he wasn’t even sure yet whether the hat wanted to stay with him long term or not. He didn’t know when he’d be able to get another banjo, and until then, he guessed he was doing without.

It was certainly a beautiful day, a soft breeze rippling through the long grass and making his fur shift, and his fingers itched to play a song for him and his companion, something light and happy to start them on their travels once more.

“Sure is a nice day fer traveling,” he offered with a smile up at the overhanging brim. “Walkin’ down the road with a good buddy fer company. Would be a nice day fer some music too. Mebbe I can think of somethin’ ta sing for us.” He paused briefly, running through some songs that didn’t need accompaniment.

The corners of the hat pulled up slightly, the way he’d seen before, and Rambler felt something strange and kind of heavy sitting suddenly on top of his head. “What’r you…” he reached a hand inside the hat, and then froze at what he felt.

Slowly, he took the hat off and pulled the object out. He stared at it for a moment, then sat heavily on the grass, though he was much gentler when he laid the present on the ground beside him. He stared at the smiling hat for a moment, then wrapped his arms around it, hugging the warn fabric close.

“I…thank you,” he said softly. His eyes felt strangely wet above his smile. He settled the hat back on his head slowly, picking his gift back up to run his fingers gently over the strings. The banjo was a very similar style to his old one, with four strings and a rounded body. At the top, the handle rounded out and was stamped with two stars, similar to the one on the hatband. The thoughtfulness of the gift touched him deeply. Somehow, the hat had known just what he needed.

They really hadn’t known each other that long, but Rambler had enjoyed their time together immensely, and he hoped they’d have a lot more of it, and as long as it wanted to travel with him, he knew he’d be grateful. And now, with the present it had so thoughtfully given him, maybe he could let it know how he felt a little bit.

He stood once again, and started walking, fingers going automatically to tune the instrument. He would miss his old banjo, and he still appreciated the years they’d spent together, but he knew he’d had to let it go to protect his friend, and maybe the hat knew that too.

A song was already winding its way around his mind, a tune forming around the words he wanted to share. He took a deep breath, then his fingers danced on the banjo’s strings, his voice joining in a moment later; light and happy, but with a genuine promise underlying the words, a promise and an invitation.

Oh, Wander over Yonder
And check out this and that.

If you Wander over Yonder
Best be sure to wear your hat.

All the things that you will see
And you certainly will be free
If you Wander over Yonder,
Just you and me!

If the darkness comes a-creepin’
And you're feelin' down,
Just Wander over Yonder
And turn your life around!

Oh, Wander over Yonder
Be sure to lend a hand.

All your helpful, friendly good deeds,
Will spread across the land.

All your helpful, friendly good deeds
Will spread across the land!

Doodly doo doo doo doo, woo!