As day turned into evening, Not-Wolfie considered his current situation. He was being used as a pillow, and would continue to serve that function until Francis woke up. But on the other paw, he was getting a ton of experience. So he figured it was probably a fair exchange.

  The dire wolf didn’t know much about gods. He vaguely remembered something about champions, and that gods were always on the lookout for new ones. Perhaps this was how they were selected?

  He was definitely the most fluffy and well groomed of his pack. Clearly Francis had recognized Not-Wolfie’s innate superiority and chosen him over the others. That made sense to Not-Wolfie. You didn’t want a mangy champion, or one that frequently got their head stuck in badger holes and needed to be rescued. That would be embarrassing.

  Of course, if he was to be Francis’ new champion, that meant he would have to leave the others. Not-Wolfie thought about how he would break the news to them. Was it better to be short and to the point? Or should he ease them into it? Hey guys, you know how you always thought that I was smarter and better than you? Well, it turns out, you were right!

  Yes, it would be best to put a positive spin on things. There would be fewer bruised egos that way. Not-Wolfie looked around the clearing for his pack-mates so he could tell them the good news, but they were gone.

  “Uh, guys?” Not-Wolfie called out uncertainly, “What’s going on?”

  “We’re going to follow the lights!” shouted Also-Not-Wolfie.

  “They’re very pretty!” added Wolfie.

  Not-Wolfie frowned. “What lights? I don’t see any lights?”

  “They’re kinda wispy,” replied Also-Not-Wolfie, “With like a blue tint. At least I think it’s blue. I’m not great with colors.”

  “To be fair, none of us are,” Wolfie said, “I think it’s something about us being dire wolves.”

  Not-Wolfie groaned. He could already feel a headache coming on. “We’ve been over this a hundred times! Dire wolves aren’t color blind!”

  “Well, I might be,” said Wolfie defensively, “How would you know? Maybe we’re all color blind. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Fine, what color is a pear?” Not-Wolfie asked.

  Wolfie went quiet for a few seconds. “The bird, or the fruit?”

  “The fucking fruit!” snarled Not-Wolfie, his headache blooming into a stupidity induced migraine.

  “Oh, um…”

  “Yes?” asked Not-Wolfie.

  “To be honest, I kinda got distracted by the lights,” Wolfie admitted, “What were we talking about?”

  “The lights,” said Also-Not-Wolfie, “I think we were talking about how beautiful they are.”

  “They are very pretty,” Wolfie agreed, “It’s a shame you can’t see them, on account of being stuck in a deific headlock.”

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  “Your mother was a deific headlock!” shouted Not-Wolfie, ready to tear his pack-mates apart for their stupidity. He felt like his blood was on fire. He wanted to bite, to rip them to shreds! Every word from their mouths was like nails on a chalkboard. (Not-Wolfie didn’t even know what a chalkboard was, but he hated it!)

  But white-hot rage quickly turned to icy dread as his brain finally processed what Also-Not-Wolfie had said earlier, “Uh, what was that part about the wisps?”

  “They’re beautiful,” replied Also-Not-Wolfie, “I wish you could see them.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “Um, well you know will-o-the-wisps?” asked Wolfie.

  “Yeah,” replied Not-Wolfie as he scrambled to free himself from Francis’ grasp.

  “Well, they look kinda like that,” said Wolfie.

  Not-Wolfie redoubled his efforts. He needed to escape and save his pack-mates before they got themselves eaten. “But you guys would never be stupid enough to follow wisps, right?”

  “Of course not,” said Wolfie, “We’re not idiots.”

  “Besides, these ones are way too beautiful to be regular wisps,” Also-Not-Wolfie added.

  Not-Wolfie felt his migraine return in full force. “I swear to god, if you dumbasses get yourself eaten by wisps I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Which god?” asked Also-Not-Wolfie, “There are quite a few, aren’t there?”

  “Which one do you think!?” snarled Not-Wolfie.

  “My guess is Francis.” said Wolfie, “Is it Francis?”

  “GOOD FUCKING GUESS!” shouted Not-Wolfie as his stupidity induced migraine reached critical mass. A few moments later he went limp, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  “Is he asleep?” asked Wolfie.

  “Dunno,” replied Also-Not-Wolfie, “But I hope he wakes up soon. I don’t want him to miss the lights.”

  ***

  Uldin ran blindly down the bloody corridors of the maze. He had long since given up on finding an exit. His only hope now was that the Bad Man would give him a quick death. No demon could escape the Bad Man’s wrath. Not for long, anyway.

  The imp turned a corner and smacked face first into Skullgnash, who swore as they collapsed into a tangle of limbs. The two demons looked at one another in panic. If they were both running away from the Bad Man, that meant at least one of them was running in the wrong direction.

  “Do you know where he is?” asked Uldin, “I thought he was behind me, but I might have gotten turned around.”

  “I don’t know either,” Skullgnash replied as he rocked back and forth on the ground, “I ran away from the screams, but then they started coming from every direction. I didn’t know where to go after that, so I just picked a direction at random.”

  The imp weighed his options. It was obvious that running wasn’t working, and fighting the Bad Man was out of the question. With no way to navigate the maze or find an exit, that just left one possibility.

  “I think I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it,” said Uldin.

  Skullgnash looked at the smaller demon. “Am I going to like it less than being torn apart by a demon slaying monster?”

  “Good point,” replied the imp as he tried to think of the best way to phrase things, “Well, you know how the Bad Man likes to kill demons?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, what if we weren’t demons? Then he would have no reason to kill us.”

  “But we are demons,” Skullgnash pointed out.

  The imp shook his head. “You’re thinking about it all wrong. Demons are evil, and if we weren’t evil anymore, we wouldn’t be demons.”

  Skullgnash rubbed his horns. “I don’t know. I kinda like being evil.”

  Somewhere far away (but not far away enough for comfort) there was the sound of someone being dismembered. The unlucky demon’s screams echoed out through the maze until the Bad Man got bored and finally decided to put it out of its misery.

  Uldin gave the other demon a look that would have made an elderly Spanish grandmother proud. “Which is more important to you? Being evil, or being alive?”

  “Being alive,” replied Skullgnash without hesitation, “Definitely.”

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