The next few days went by in a blur that was equally fast and painfully slow, depending on what was happening. Namu quickly learned a limitation of blueprints. Unlocking one gave you a free build, but every one after cost gold. Quite a bit of it. Since they only had one set of tack, Namu supposed it didn’t matter. Still, it meant that while Mangrove trained the day away, Dahlia had an hour on the track, then nothing.

  To Namu’s greater annoyance, the sprint hill didn’t allow a jockey. Mangrove ran happily on his own. He even took breaks as needed, but never for very long. It all felt rather automated. Namu figured automation would be a boon when his ranch got bigger, but for now, it meant he had a lot of time on his hands. Mira and Cyrille had dropped back into the world of Myth and Magic to pass the time, but Namu couldn’t make himself follow. Not yet. Leaving such a new place so early in a race for the top was too risky. Plus, it gave him lots of time to study, a fact that made the morning of his first race more exciting.

  *****

  Namu stood with Mangrove, both of them dressed in the silks Mira had designed. His friends had teleported ahead of him to the racetrack in order to get good spots in the crowd. He’d stayed back to double and triple-check Mangrove’s tack, as well as take one last look at the MaGriff’s stats.

  Mangrove’s stat gains were modest, but it had only been a few days. With nothing currently available to give anyone a boost over other ranches, all the MaGriffs were probably going to be similar. There was only one way to find out. Namu flicked over to the “Races” tab and clicked [Enter Racetrack Entrance].

  The early morning quiet of Apex Ranch exploded into chaotic noise. Namu and Mangrove had re-materialized onto a racetrack, a few dozen feet away from a set of metal starting stalls which stretched across the width of the track. Loose, clay-red dirt covered the track. Tannish rock rose like walls on either side. About twenty feet up, the rock walls plateaued, and on the plateau, a crowd of Rebirths, made up of more races than Namu had ever seen in one place, clamored. A plain wooden fence was the only thing keeping them from falling onto the track. A circle of flat screens floated high above them all, although since they were pointed at the crowds, Namu couldn’t tell what was on them.

  On the track, other jockeys and MaGriffs clustered around Namu and Mangrove. Namu easily counted nine, and could see a few others milling behind those nearby. Three of the closest jockeys—a human woman, a gnomish Smallfolk man, and, to Namu’s surprise, a skeleton-type Nightfolk—turned to stare at him.

  “Huh,” the human said. “This update really is pulling in all kinds. I’d never expect a Plantfolk to care about anything that moved faster than a glacier.”

  “Smart, though,” the gnome said. “With no weight handicap, even the heaviest oak has a chance.”

  The skeleton’s mouth opened, and a hollow, eerie voice came out. “No day handicaps either, in case you were wondering why I was here, Plantfolk.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” the human said. “That still doesn’t explain why it cares. Don’t Plantfolk only care about their forests and what’s happening a thousand years from now?”

  “Oh,” the skeleton said, its voice growing sharp. “By that line of thought, I should only care about hunting Rebirths by moonlight and guarding treasure for my Master. Try expanding your mind a bit.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The gnome jumped in and tried to mediate the increasingly heated argument between the human and Nightfolk while Namu stared. He was used to others’ surprise about his rather atypical interests as a Plantfolk. While the woman’s remarks seemed a bit overly aggressive, they didn’t bother him. He was about to say as much when the skeleton took offense, and now he wasn’t sure how to do so without offending the Nightfolk more. The last thing he needed was to make enemies at his first race.

  A clarion bell saved him from his dilemma.

  ALL RACERS ENTER THE STARTER GATE

  The Goddess Aisha’s voice echoed from the sky itself. A hush fell.

  THE HIDDEN CLIFFS RACE WILL START IN TEN MINUTES

  ANY RACERS NOT IN THE STARTER GATE AT RACE START WILL BE DISQUALIFIED

  All the jockeys mounted their brown-green MaGriffs. Namu followed suit, noticing as he did that the number five had appeared on Mangrove’s silks. Now that the other jockeys weren’t blocking his sight, he could see numbers on everyone’s silks, no doubt matching one of the half-transparent numbers in front of each stall in the starter gate. One jockey, a dog Beastfolk who had been rushing toward a random gate, was nearly thrown as his MaGriff skidded to a stop in front of gate one. A red fifteen was clear on the MaGriff’s silks. The jockey prodded the bird, who merely squawked in annoyance and pranced in place.

  “It’s not your gate!” someone yelled from the crowd of racers. “Get out of the way!”

  The jockey growled and jerked his MaGriff’s reins, leading it from the gate and farther down the line. It seemed they were only allowed to enter the gate with their number. That made sense, but Namu could already think of ways it could cause trouble later, especially with being disqualified if you weren’t in your stall at the end of the countdown. Fortunately, everyone seemed eager to get the race started. No more drama popped up as they lined up. Namu eyed his stall with a little apprehension. The ceiling was a good ten feet up, but the walls that divided each stall had only five or six feet between them. Mangrove wasn’t very wide, but Namu’s legs were rather thick. They were made of tree trunk, after all. Mangrove didn’t seem to share Namu’s apprehension. The MaGriff readily squeezed in, his chest within a couple of inches of the front gate and Namu’s thighs within a few inches of the wall.

  Namu jumped as a metal door slammed shut behind them. Lemon, strawberry, and pine scents burst from him. His hands shook on the reins. He could no longer tell what was excitement and what was fear. He supposed it didn’t matter at this point.

  Clangs sounded out as the other racers got locked in their stalls, drowning out the shuffling and trilling of waiting MaGriffs. Their jockeys and the crowd had gone silent.

  Namu focused on the track ahead. The front of each stall had two pieces of metal, each bowed out and touching at the tips in a V-shape. The V-shape went up to Mangrove’s shoulders, allowing him and Namu a clear look at the racetrack on the other side. Unfortunately, all Namu saw was more clay-red dirt and rock walls. The track curved sharply to the left a couple of hundred feet from the gate.

  Namu’s bark tingled as the Goddess counted down the last minute for racers to get into their stalls, her voice still booming from the sky.

  ALL GATES LOCKED

  RACE WILL START IN THIRTY SECONDS

  Namu’s bark lit up in a burning sensation neither hot nor cold. He could smell cinnamon. The Plantfolk call of fight or flight.

  TWENTY SECONDS

  Many Plantfolk hated the smell of cinnamon, hated to be reminded of things which broke their extended meditations. Namu loved it.

  TEN…

  Namu crouched over Mangrove’s neck as he’d learned to do on the little dirt track.

  SIX…

  A little bend in the knees. A good grip on the reins, tight but not too tight.

  THREE…

  Namu’s focus funneled to a pinpoint.

  ONE

  The gate swung open, and they were off. Mangrove hit his stride just as fast on this track as at the ranch, but so did every one of the fourteen other MaGriffs. Still, Namu could tell not all ranchers trained for speed. Mangrove pulled to the front of the pack, side-by-side with two others. In the distance, a deep voice spoke rapidly, although Namu couldn’t tell what it said over the thuds of MaGriff feet.

  Mangrove reached the turn and pivoted. Namu locked onto the new obstacle. A rock wall stretched across the track. It looked low, maybe three feet high, yet it pinged as a danger in Namu’s mind. He tamped it down. It was the first track for starter MaGriffs. It wouldn’t have something they couldn’t clear. Then again, not impossible didn’t mean always possible. Namu’s bark took on a colder burn.

  Namu bent lower over Mangrove’s neck as they approached the jump. It was just a little jump. Namu’s confidence built, smothering his anxiety as Mangrove launched into the air. Namu’s heart leaped into his throat. It felt like flying.

  Something caught, yanking backward. In an instant, Namu was face-down in the dirt once more. Cold turned to ice, and the cinnamon scent emanating from him took on astringent, minty notes.

  Squawks of alarm came from all around. Namu curled into a ball, waiting for the pain of nine-hundred pound birds trampling him, yet all he felt were rushes of wind, mixed in with a scattering of loud thuds and curses. The bursts of wind stopped.

  “Get up,” a familiar voice hissed from nearby. “You want to show how you’re different? Get back up and finish the race.”

  Namu uncurled in time to see the skeleton Nightfolk that had argued with the human bounce back into their MaGriff’s saddle with a clatter. Around them, half-a-dozen others did the same. Mint turned acidic as Namu stood up, and Mangrove, who had been waiting nearby, rushed to his side.

  I’m an idiot, Namu thought. He’d got unlucky. Hardly the first time, yet he was ready to give up. With that attitude, he’d never get close to the top.

  He got back in the saddle and gave a nod to the skeleton, who, to his surprise, stayed back and watched him.

  “Thanks,” Namu said.

  The skeleton nodded and spurred their MaGriff on. Namu pushed Mangrove onto their heels. The Nightfolk had clearly picked something other than speed to train, as Mangrove edged past them quickly. A set of tightly clustered pillars came next. Mangrove slalomed between them. He rammed broadside into a few, sending jolts of pain up Namu’s legs. The skeleton and their MaGriff got a small lead on them by the end of the pillars, but the rest of the track was flat dirt and gentle curves, allowing Mangrove to pass the finish line before them. The rest of the racers had already finished. Namu had wasted too much time feeling sorry for himself, and the skeleton had wasted just as much time waiting for him.

  The deep voice Namu had heard throughout the race rattled off final positions. Namu blocked it out and pulled Mangrove back until he was beside the skeleton.

  “What’s your name?” Namu asked.

  “Yinying,” the skeleton said.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Namu.”

  The skeleton cocked their head. Namu had no idea what they were thinking. The lack of flesh made it hard to read expressions.

  “Fitting name,” Yinying said after a moment. “Well done for finishing the race. A lot of Rebirths don’t believe any like us have a chance. We’re ‘not suited’.” Yinying scoffed. “I look forward to us showing them the error of their ways.”

  Namu didn’t think their first race had helped their cause at all, but he understood how to play the long game, even if he didn’t always enjoy it. He grinned. “I do, too.”

  Yinying clacked their teeth together and fell silent. Namu decided his welcome had worn out, and he was about to push Mangrove ahead when the Nightfolk passed a little black card to Namu. Silver writing adorned the center.

  [Eclipse Ranch Guest Key]

  “Guest key?” Namu asked.

  The skeleton nodded.

  “Thank you…uh…Yinying.” Namu hoped he hadn’t butchered the unfamiliar name too much.

  Yinying nodded again, not giving him any sign of accuracy. The Nightfolk also didn’t elaborate on what a guest key actually did, and Namu couldn’t bring himself to admit he didn’t know.

  “I’m almost always there,” Yinying said. “So feel free to drop by.”

  With that, Yinying spurred their MaGriff on as the Goddess blared a two-minute warning.