Again, not a single soul on the road until I reach the outskirts, and even then it's only one or two.
We didn't set a meeting place the night before - how the hell would we have worked that one out anyway - so I'm grateful to find the beastgirl sat on the fence overlooking the waterfall and terraced fields.
It's a pretty open spot in the middle of the village, buildings only on the inside curve, so it makes sense to wait around there if you're uncertain on where to find someone. After all, you can't travel through one way or the other without passing by.
She seems lost in the view as I approach.
I kinda expected her to pick up my scent on the breeze, as it lightly rolled down the mountain road behind me. I'm down wind, so it should have carried the smell ahead of me. Though I suppose from being caked in several days of stink and muck yesterday, and now being as fresh as a daisy, she mustn't have memorized my natural odour yet.
That or, in this world, being a beastperson doesn't automatically mean you have heightened scenes, or it could only be for species specific, or it might even just be a cosmetic thing.
Actually, maybe beastpeople are considered disfigured or something?
Like they've been cursed or are a bad omen or some other superstitious nonsense. That'd explain why there's so many different types of them in the village, but no humans.
By the time I'm a couple of feet from the beastgirl, my thoughts wrap themselves up and she finally notices me.
She turns her profile toward me - chin in hand, elbow on knee, legs propped on top of each other - as she's perched on the fence.
I get a wry, almost weary, smile as she spins on the post and launches into the air, landing with an awkward pose.
Guess heroic stances are inter-dimensional.
Already a meter or so ahead of me, before I even notice let alone turn round, she starts walking back out of town the way I'd come.
Confused, I jog the few steps to catch. She turns her head away.
Is she sulking?
Did I make her wait to long or something?
The addition of a sound similar to a "Humph!" confirms my suspicions, and she keeps walking.
Is she trying to leave already?
We haven't gotten provisions or settled on a plan yet. Though, it might be less obvious if we flee right now, I don't see the orc, beastman, or goblin anywhere, but we won't get far.
Guess we could scout out the surrounding area a little. Maybe I can divert her over the river where it's narrower, or up one of the other side roads before the turning for the house.
It's not that I'm against her knowing my base of operations. It's just that I don't want anyone coming looking for us before we're ready to leave, delaying the start to our journey, or potentially punishing us in some way.
I swerve around her from behind and try to catch her attention from the left.
Petulantly, she turns her face to the right, and keeps on walking. Arms up over her shoulders like she's taking the most carefree stroll of her life.
What is going on here?
I get a step in front of her, she veers around me.
I back peddle and put an arm out to bar the way, she ducks under.
I swing back round to her other side, she turns away again.
Frustrated, and not used to people acting this way, I grab one of her arms and stop her from walking any further.
She shoots me a look over her shoulder.
I do not understand the significance of what she's trying to communicate at all, though I get there's something in the intensity and glassiness of her gaze.
Question? Resigned? Pleading?
Letting go of her arm, I apologize for being rough, raising my hands in front of me as a sign of atonement. You're not meant to grab people, but in the heat of the moment, reason doesn't always win out.
Her eye does not waver from my face for a second.
It's like she's trying to read me.
"Ok, ok… seriously, I'm sorry." Waving my hands and bowing slightly to really emphasise how remorseful I am.
She sighs and looks down a little.
I take the opportunity to circle around slowly, so I'm not talking to her bac-
…
I'm an idiot.
The whole right side of a face is swollen.
My heart leaps.
It's like a cartoon. Like she's been stung by a swarm of bees, or is having a major allergic reaction, but its concentrated to one area.
It hits me that she was trying to hide it and keep me on her good side. Trying to work out how I'd react in advance…
Did she think I'd abandon her? That I'd think she's weak for being beaten? Do I really come across like that?
Maybe. We don't really know each other… but maybe she's just overly cautious. Worried about the uncertainty. Worried that I might be just as bad as the orc and beastman. That I might be just another source of pain to her.
Not the companion and potential escape she had hoped for.
Overcome with anger, pity, hate, concern - a whole tidal wave of muddled up emotions - I take the beastgirl's hand.
Looking her dead in the eyes, I nod my head toward the stream, and walk us over to its banks. We're obscured from the road by a short bluff and a few scattered trees.
Once out of sight, crouching down to make sure, I pull open my bundle.
At first I can't get her to look.
She's still trying to keep her head turned, eyes cast every which way but at me, or where I'm trying to indicate she look.
Annoyance rises in me again.
I'm trying to suggest a solution here. I need you to work with me and see whether it's something that might work. Stop avoiding me.
I can feel myself getting wound up more and more, but I notice that the beast girl is too.
I drop the bundle back to my side, sit down in a more stable position, and tentatively put an arm round her shoulders. A hug helped her yesterday.
She shrugs me off and remains squatting, legs almost hugged to her chest, face just about buried in her knees.
The atmosphere is tense, but it's also annoying.
Out of frustration, I want to shout at her, but I know that wont help anything really.
As I seethe silently, I remember my Mom telling me that some people need a moment before they can get back on task. Just sit with them while they work through their emotions and be patient, even if it bothers you. A good friend will appreciate your being considerate, even if you just want to fix things right away.
It really is irritating though.
I'm anxious and excited to get on with things. I want to sort our plan and set it in motion.
The sooner the better… for both of us.
It takes a little while for the beastgirl to calm down.
I don't try to hug her again, being rejected when you're trying to help stings too much.
While waiting, I take to finding tiny stones, balancing as many as possible onto the ridge made by my crossed legs, and machine gunning them off into the stream.
Flick, flick, flick, flick, flick, flick, flick…
Splish, splish, splish, splish, splish…
Giggle…
I turn to see the beastgirl loading a volley of her own, sending the pebbles flying off her knees one at a time like a sniper.
She lines up the shots, one eye closed, and catches the stones with her nail, resulting in an audible crack each time.
God she's lethal!
Way more accurate than my scatter shots.
I decide to play the fool and wait until she's preparing her next set of rounds.
Moving myself just a little on the spot so I can spring forward at the right moment.
She takes her time picking a new target.
Crack.
I dive in front of her and take the hit.
It stings like a sunuva… giving off a thud as it hits my chest, muffled only slightly by my top.
Dropping onto my side a little away from her feet, I play dead, awaiting the applause for my award winning performance.
After a moment's silence for the fallen - me - and still nothing, I crack an eyelid.
Oh no.
The beastgirl's shoulders are shaking, she's trying to stifle her laughter… so she can line up her next shot!
I can just see the tip of her manic grin cresting the knee in front.
It feels like our eyes meet as she closes one to take aim.
Time to take it like a man.
CRACK!
I remain limp. Playing the corpse.
Crack, crack, crack.
I deserve this for being insensitive earlier.
…
IS SHE SERIOUSLY RELOADING?!.
I do not deserve another barrage.
I open my eye again to see her looking around for more stones to place on her knees, so I roll over and grasp out at her, groaning like a zombie.
She jumps at first, but leans into the charade and pretends to swoon against the embankment, nowhere to run from the encroaching horror.
The fake protestations in the face of death, and my undead sound effects, quickly give way to chuckling from both of us…
…
How did I end up like this?
I freeze on the spot, realizing I've inadvertently propped myself up above her like I'm trying to make a move.
She's still laughing and hasn't noticed yet, eyelids scrunched up, tears forming. It makes her nose and eyebrows crinkle.
It's odd to suddenly become acutely aware of someone. How they move and take up space. How your brain will make comparisons to other things to embed the information deeper, create more neural links.
Like how the beastgirl's hair is only slightly glossy, and a little matte like charcoal. She's pretty tall too, only a little shorter than I am, and I'd say I'm above average. Long limbs making her look taller still. Her shoulders are kinda broad, but it makes sense she'd be strong from living out in the country. Though still lean and…
I quickly realise I'm paying too much attention to her features, and the movement of her body under me is weirdly…
I throw myself down beside her and roll on my back.
No more of that train of thought.
I totally didn't start aching in my chest. I would never have gone in for a kiss. Nothing sus going on here. This isn't some romcom harem manga or whatever after all.
Letting out a fake little laugh to try and cover my nerves, I lie back and look up into the sky. Involuntarily letting out a sigh.
The beast girl recovers and sits up.
She wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes and points at my bundle.
I sit up too, pull the bundle over, and unwrap our starter equipment.
Honestly, after that performance, I think she'd be better suited with a sling or bow, but I haven't seen anything like that across the entire town so far.
The last of her laughter putters out.
She swallows on what sounds like a pretty dry throat.
I pick up with hatchet and small knife, making a little show of their weight, comparing their sizes and stuff.
Having no idea how to communicate any of my ideas around them, I look around for any sticks, find a smallish branch sticking out of the riverbank, and pull it out of the sediment.
I chop the branch with a few blows from the hand axe, and waft my hands over it like I've done a magic trick, or am presenting a wonderful prize on a bad daytime TV show.
The beastgirl's face reflects her understanding and obvious relief.
Did she think I was going to attack her? She's my companion! Really gonna have to work on her confidence in me.
I put down the hatchet and hand her the knife.
She takes it, a little confused, then points at the branch, making questioning noises.
I look between the gestures she's making and the driftwood, then realise she thinks I want her to try and cut it with the knife too.
I shake my head while giving a reassuring smile.
I mime shanking and cutting throats.
How else am I meant to get across it's for self defence on our adventure?
She blinks at me, astonished.
Slowing making stabbing motions of her own, still dumbfounded.
She drops the knife with a start and waves her palms at me, shying away from where it landed.
I try to reassure her that I haven't killed anyone… like that's not what a murderer trying to calm their next victim would do. Fumbling some pantomimed stabs, pointing to myself, shaking my head, crossing my arms - god this is exhausting - while pouting and frowning all the while.
After a bit of back and forth, flexing on the spot improv acting that could land me a leading Hollywood role, I seem to have the beastgirl on side.
Do I seriously come across like I have that kind of experience?
I'll have to sort out some kind of sheath for the knife back at the house.
The beastgirl isn't wearing boots, so can't slip it down the side, and it's not going to stay in her waistband… I wonder how my phone is doing after being stuffed down there?
GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!!!
"Ahem…"
We put our equipment back in the bundle, for now, and I set about trying to formulate a plan with my party member.
I grab the dry end of the stick I chopped up earlier and start drawing in the mud at the edge of the stream.
We're not going to get everything sorted in one day, so I put tallies from | to ||||||| on the ground, separated by about a foot each time. That should get across the idea of a week, hopefully, so long as it's the same number of days in this world.
Using normal numbers or letters or whatever wouldn't make much sense. If we can't even talk, it's unlikely that we'll be able to read each other's languages.
Hell, with how weird the beastperson language sounds, all animalistic caterwauls and howling, it might not even have a written form. How am I ever gonna learn how to speak it? There's probably pitches and tones a human won't even be able to differentiate or replicate.
Anyway, we can work on that while we travel together. I'll pick it up eventually, even if it takes months… years…
No.
No more spiralling. Come on.
It won't take that long.
For now, plan.
Worry later.
I shake my head and point to the first tally.
This'll be what we do today. I hesitate, not sure where to actually start.
I draw a little sun at the top and a crescent moon where the mud becomes lush green embankment. At least that might get across passage of time and how to prioritise what needs doing and by when each day.
The beastgirl intently watches my kindergarten scribbling with an expression of amused bemusement.
Glad I'm entertaining with all this…
Actually, I'm glad she's engaged. I thought I'd have a harder time convincing her to join me on quest seeking, but she seems open and willing to entertain leaving. I mean, what is she really leaving behind?
Anyway, we're gonna need supplies.
I doodle some random foods in each day: a chicken drumsticks T-bone steak, carrot, err…
I have no idea how to draw anything else. Broccoli would look like a tree, eggs are just off circles, and fried ones are wonky flowers.
Hmm…
Maybe bread?
I go to draw the usual slice shape, then realize they might not even have that here. The chunk we had the other day was like a proper loaf.
My hand remains wavering in mid air. I want to show that we need to stockpile a little every day, but it feels stupid to reuse symbols already. We need a variety of non-perishable goods.
Ahh…
Settling on drawing a rustic oval shaped farmhouse loaf - with the slits in the crust and steam rising from it - I go to move onto the last day.
The beast girl erupts with raucous laughter. Pointing and screaming in hysterics.
As I turn my head back towards the drawing, my eyes still glued on her teared up face, it dawns on my before I even look at the bread again what she's found so funny.
It looks like a turd.
Goddammit.
I pat the area flat again - so it's easier to draw something else - with a few large leaves, which gets another burst of belly laughs from the beast girl.
Oh god, I bet she thinks I'm wiping up the crap. How can she be so immature?
An infectious grin spreads across my face, while I stifle giggles in my throat. OK, hypocrite, it is pretty funny.
I let out my own amusement as my brain kicks into gear, the babble of the brook inspiring me a little.
A fish!
Annnddddd…
A banana?
No!
She'll laugh at that too.
AN APPLE!!!
Nothing funny about an apple. I can put the little leaf and the stem and it'll be more obvious.
Cherries and a bunch of grapes make up the last couple of days.
How do elementary preschoolers make drawing basic things seem so easy?!.
Trying to remember just seven food items was absolute torture!
Right, that's scavenging provisions every day sorted. What's next?
I spend most of an hour scratching out our plan with sketchy symbols for things like money, clothes, and other equipment. It's hard to judge whether all the hieroglyphs make complete sense to the beastgirl, but she nods along, or points and growls or burbles from time to time, and even rubbed out a couple of things.
It's a lot to try and get down, but once the days are filled with a few pictographs each, I feel contented enough with the plan to sit back and take a breather.
The slight breeze coming down the mountain is further chilled by the river, so I take off my shoes for a minute and let my feet cool before we get started. Lying back in the grass to just take in the weather.
The beastgirl, finally uncurling herself, follows suit.
It's nice.
This.
It's confusing but comforting how easy it is to be around her. Like we've known each other forever. I guess we're just fast friends, though I'd believing in such a thing.
It came to make sense to keep people a little distant. You can't get hurt that way.
When my parents had to move for work, I thought I'd be the interesting new transfer kid, but no one seemed to care much.
It's not always from the city to a village, or vice versa, making you somewhat exotic to the locals. Most moves for work are from one middling town to another. We did it once after elementary school, so I started middle school afresh. Then again after my first year of high school.
It sucks having to make new friends when you'll be uprooted and never see them again in a couple of years. You always mean to stay in touch, but life and distance just get in the way.
That's why I spend my time online.
It's easy to keep in contact with players on a friend list or other users across forums and stuff.
Having a real connection, in person, for the first time in years… it's nostalgic.
I remember being pretty outgoing as a little kid. I'd make friends everywhere. All my relatives who had kids, cousins no matter how distant, regardless of age gaps, were always willing to play when I asked.
Heck, every kid at my aunts' and uncles' and grandparents' places, around school, in the neighbourhood I grew up in, even randoms in the park or street, were my friends in minutes.
When did that stop?
Where did that popular child go?
A knot of frustration tightens in my chest and I push it down to not spoil the pleasant mood from lying on a riverbank, midsummer, with a new friend.
My first companion in another world.
That means something.
I sit up, emboldened to do some dumb childish blood brother's pact by cutting our finger tips and pressing them together… but thankfully fob off the idea as too over the top and juvenile.
Uh… what would be a good bonding thing?
The beastgirl's face becomes expectant from my enthusiastic movement.
Oh!
Get her to teach you some words in her language!
That'd make things easier and I'd be indebted to her, so maybe she'd be more confident about me not just abandoning her.
Nodding with determination, I get the beastgirl's attention and point at the first symbol on the first day. A little sack with coins around it.
"Money."
The beastgirl, who was in the middle of sitting up, pauses. Part way propped up on one arm. She gives me a look that questions what I just said, as well as my intelligence and sanity.
…
After sitting the rest of the way up, crossing her legs, and adopting the air of a superior, the beastgirl folds her arms with a serious expression.
"Bark."
Bark?
Huh!
WHAT?!.
I point at the chicken leg.
"Food."
"Bark."
My jaw swings on loose hinges.
I point at the money again.
"Bark."
The drumstick.
"Bark."
There's no difference!
Or if there is a difference I cannot hear it.
I clear my throat, point at the bag of coins, and… bark.
By bark, I mean I literally say the word.
I'm pretty sure I can hear a vein pop in her head.
The beast girl's pulse is clearly visible in her temple. She's gritting her teeth in a grimace that could shatter them like ice at any moment.
"Bark? Bark! BARK!!!"
She actually - well sorta - verbalized the word bark, then barked at me properly.
I try to copy the sound.
"Bärk."
"Bark."
"Bárk."
"Bark!"
"Bârk."
"BARK!!!"
"Ba- oh this is hopeless…"
This is so frustrating. I've not been this wound up since I found out I have that gene that makes cilantro, coriander, whatever you call it, taste like soap.
I always thought everyone else was pulling a prank. That they were lying about it being this tasty herb in whatever they were eating, then somehow added a bit soap to mine as a joke. I spent a month trying every product I could find that had it in, eventually getting both dried and fresh leaves to eat raw, desperately trying to taste anything but soap.
A flavour I would never be able to taste.
Hopefully this isn't the same.
Hopefully I'll be able to pick up the animal tones eventually, and be able to emulate them.
Maybe we'll have a better time getting her to copy me?
…
No.
After another back and forth, just as infuriating as the first, I abandon language lessons for today. We have other things to get done.
That… and she punches me.
Guess neither of us are particularly patient people.
Thankfully, we both laugh about it pretty quickly.
For the rest of the day I occasionally bark - without putting effort into the sound - while pointing at random things and she cracks a snicker.
Surprisingly, the symbols on our plan translated quite well. The beastgirl working effectively as both guide and negotiator in every interaction.
We manage to score some labouring work with the warehouse I found the yesterday, gofering about for minimal pay in soaring heat for a wriggling mass of entities packed into a giant shed. It was tiring as all heck, and by noon, we'd both drank and sweated out our body weights in water twice over.
The temperature for the day must have been a record high, so as soon as they broke for lunch, we bolted out to dunk our heads in a rainwater catchment trough outside.
We hadn't secured food first, and the beings of the warehouse did not provide anything, so we went dripping through town to find something quick.
Whatever creatures of shadow or flesh that we were working for did not seem to stop their own labours for a second, looking up to acknowledge the beastgirl mewing out her need for food, and nothing more. Their limbs still sawing and striking all around the room in unison.
She beamed as we departed, and soon traversed the side streets to slip in through the back door of what proved to be a grocers.
Again, her smile and self assurance carried us through the place in no time at all. The owner, a wizened monkey - grey and wispy - sitting behind a low bench, at first barely seemed alive. However, as soon as he recognised the beastgirl, his energy returned, matching her own. They made short work of gathering more items than we'd need for several days.
I didn't even notice her pay, so I assume because it's such a small community, you can buy on tick and pay later.
I cannot imagine any of my local convenience stores doing that. Even my favourite one, where I'm basically on first name terms with all the staff, wouldn't let me take out store credit. I've tried; I'm there daily.
We wolf down a quarter of our supplies, bundle up the rest in a cloth bag we magicked up along the way, hide it behind some crates in the shade of the warehouse, and get back to work.
By early evening, as the first dimming of the day becomes noticeable, our clothes are sticking to us like candy wrappers.
We're glistening through the fabrics.
I can almost get a sweet eye full…
No.
Bad.
Stop.
I feel too disgusting for thoughts like that right now…
After doing a full day's work with a friend at my side, elbowing each other and bantering away in our limited fashion - mostly slap stick physical comedy, practical jokes, funny faces, and pointing to laugh at someone or thing that's happened - I'm pretty fulfilled.
Exhausted.
In need of a bath.
Ready for dinner.
But, proud of the work we were able to get done.
Even if the pay doesn't seem like much - I still have no idea of the value of things here - and our boss is an unimaginable creature from beyond the veil - who's isn't - we earned it ourselves.
My parents would be proud.
Hell, I'm proud!
Of me… of us!
We did a great job!
If we do this every day, we'll end the week with enough to cover all our meals, plus spare for our travel rations. Maybe even another week's worth of food on top of that, with change left over for emergencies. Here's hoping anyway.
I don't think we'll be able to afford any equipment off a week's labouring, but a whistle stop tour of the highsteet - the beastgirl as my expert guide making things a lot quicker than my panicked wandering from the previous day - turns up nowhere offering adventuring gear.
Guess we really are out in the boonies.
This is just a small mountain village after all, but still.
I had hoped to get some light armour or a proper weapon at least.
Oh well… The next place down the valley will probably be bigger and have more stuff. We should be able to pick up work there, make more money, and buy what we're currently lacking.
As angry as I have been about the beastman and orc - using that fire to fuel my work, and the work itself to distract me from going off to kill them for hurting my party member - I think I could leave here without seeking revenge against them.
Maybe the quests here are more open ended like a sandbox game?
This could be a moral dilemma with a pick your own path element.
Hunting down the local bad guys to enact vigilante justice on their asses might seem cool and all, but it could impact things further down the line.
Taking the high road, escaping without resorting to violence, might give me a buff of some kind in place of experience points and loot.
Hmm…
Sure would be satisfying to go medieval on them, literally!
Lost in thought while the beast girl animatedly chatters with the old lizard men at the hardware store, I really am contented.
After everything that's gone on, all the stress and terror and anxiety, things are finally going to plan.
We're working hard - I know it's only day one, but still - and we're making progress.
Let's keep it up team!
I wave to my companion and she bounds over, waving in turn to the lizard folk, and we head up the hill to our perch shrouded in tall grass.
There's an easy calm and quiet between us.
As much as the summer seems to have gotten my blood up, the platonic feelings I have for the beastgirl are already deeply rooted.
It's like we've had each other's backs for the longest time.
She shoots me a grin, her still swollen cheek, but less so than it was this morning.
I smile back.
Yeah, this is nice.
…
A rock hits me above the ear.
It stings and knocks me dizzy, my vision wobbling while I try to focus on the stone at my feet.
About the size a golf ball and jagged in the nastiest ways.
I close my eyes and hold my head still.
The spinning stops with enough time for me to turn and see the beastman coming down the hill towards us, the goblin at the crest picking up another rock.
I pass off the bag of supplies to the beastgirl.
Guess I'm not taking the high road after all.
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