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to their foreheads. “Don’t make fun of the birthday girl.”
    “Only because it is your birthday and you asked nicely,” Timoran says with a bow of his head. “Also I am curious to see how this cake tastes and I assume you will deny me a slice if I refuse you.”
    Nyx pulls the cake closer and takes a deep breath, the shimmer of a spell appearing on her lips. With a gentle exhale from the caster, all of the candles ignite and the flames dance as she sings an Elven birthday song. Her final word is still in the air when Timoran carefully blows out the enchanted fire, his fear of magic still strong enough to make him tense. Before Luke can cut the cake, Nyx snatches a marshmallow off the top and pops it in her mouth. She leans back with her arms crossed and her eyes closed, happily savoring the tasty snack.
    “I heard some-” Delvin begins to say before Sari covers his mouth.
    “Presents!” the gypsy yells, pulling two small packages out from behind her. She moves her hand and gives the warrior an apologetic hug. “Thank you for letting me throw this party for Nyx and Timoran. You’re such a good friend, Delvin.”
    “Don’t mention it,” he says while rolling up his sleeves.
    “First, I’m sorry I didn’t have time to figure out a good present for Timoran. I did the best I could while we on the road,” Sari explains, watching her friends open their presents. She reaches out to steal a marshmallow, pulling her hand back when two of the smoking candles swat at her fingers. “As for Nyxie, this is a delayed apology. When we were kids, you had a favorite toy and I broke it when we had a fight. I never got you a replacement, but I used some contacts, your teachers, to find one while we rested in Gaia last week.”
    Timoran holds up a set of bracers and turns them in his hands, a broad smile growing on his face. The gift makes him realize that it has been years since he has bought new gear or done any definitive maintenance on anything other than his great axe. He takes his old, beaten pair off and slips the new ones onto his forearms, tightening the leather straps and tucking them into narrow slits. The flexible, metal-studded plate is finely polished and he notices a hidden sheathe in his left hand bracer, complete with a simple knife.
    “Mr. Hissy!” Nyx exclaims, hugging a stuffed hydra doll to her chest. Red tongues of felt emerge from the dark green toy’s seven heads, disappearing when the half-elf breaks the tight embrace. “Thank you, Sari. I know I told you it was okay when we were kids, but I was really angry with you. I figured you would make up for it before you left. I take back everything bad I said about you during that first week of misery.”
    “Mr. Hissy?” Luke asks with a chuckle.
    “I talked to your mother when we were in Haven. You carried a blue, wool blanket around until you were six and called it Lady Mommy,” the caster defensively snaps. She holds up her new toy and makes it stick its tongues out at her friend. “Can you cut the cake?”
    Luke cuts a big slice that he passes to Timoran and a sliver that he hands to Nyx. Before the half-elves can fight, the barbarian switches plates and holds his out for extra. The forest tracker gives his friend another slab and serves everyone else, aware that Delvin is patiently waiting to share his news. With a flip of the knife, he finishes slicing the cake and gestures for the warrior to speak. Luke is out of his seat when Delvin tries to talk with a mouthful of cake and nearly chokes on the moist dessert. The half-elf gives him a solid smack to the back, which helps him dislodge the food from his throat.
    “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Cunningham” Sari teases, handing the gasping warrior a glass of water. “Take your time and share the big news when you’re ready. We’re cooped up here for at least twenty more hours. No rush.”
    “Fizzle can share his news first,” the former mercenary says in a strained voice.
    The