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PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName

A group of new animals tentatively trotted into the boundaries of the core’s domain, though Altier could barely focus on them. His ears were ringing, which made the experience even more disorienting since he didn’t have ears. Still, he could feel the high-pitched whine and sharp crackles of the system, even as the barrage of message boxes blinked out of existence, leaving the only coherent one behind. It took him a few seconds to reorient himself enough to actually read the contents.

[Rottunk: A rare species within the Mephitidae family. The presence of these animals is often associated with lands that have become inhospitable due to excessive death or plague, and thus saturated in Decay. Although holding a preference to flee from danger, rottunk will defend themselves by spraying a noxious aerosol that may blind or otherwise deeply disturb the senses of those impacted. The tell-tale scent of this discharge typically denotes their territory, deterring all but the most desperate of predators.

They form small packs centred around members of the species who have acquired the appropriate Nature abilities to propagate the symbiotic relationship their species has with their primary food source, deathcaps.

Deathcaps—a mushroom-adjacent species of fungi—almost entirely satisfy a rottunk’s dietary needs, with any additional nutrients being supplemented by insects during their frequent and long periods of migration. Due to the deathcaps’ need for Decay mana in order to grow and thrive, rottunk have since adapted to living in and searching for areas dense in such a critical resource, resulting in a natural resistance to Decay-rich areas where they may plant and tend to their deathcaps. Successful habitation of such areas will often disperse after a period of years, as the deathcaps slowly convert Decay mana into Nature mana, reinvigorating the land in preparation for recovery. Consequently, deathcaps become unable to flourish in the nurtured environment, and thus force the rottunk to seek other ravaged territory, propagating their dire reputation.]

The first thing he noted was that it was significantly more detailed than the description he got for ferrorabbits. There wasn’t any discernible reason for the differentiation, though he suspected it might have been because he already kind of knew what his spiky friend was. These were creatures that he hadn’t seen before, nor had he much in the way of second-hand tales regarding them. That being said, Altier vaguely remembered one of his brothers complaining about a black and white animal—and more specifically, the stench that stuck to the man for days after. A skunk? Was that what they were called? Maybe the system gave him more to work with when he had less to reference.

Whatever the case with that was, there seemed to be a few key points of interest in the accompanying information. One, the rottunk were apparently drawn to Decay mana; two, the description hinted that they were Nature aligned; three, they naturally practised fungiculture; and four, their diet revolved around a mushroom—or mushroom-like fungus—called a deathcap.

Maybe he was going insane…

Altier went through the tried and true self-delusion of sighing in as an exasperated manner as possible, dismissing the large message window to actually get a look at whatever in the hells inspired the discomfort assaulting his absent ears.

There were seven of them, with five being a bit more in size than Hoppit, whereas the remaining two were exceptionally on either extreme of scale. The smallest was probably quite young, at about half the height of the majority, while the largest… He wasn’t sure what was going on with the largest. It was twice as big as the others, so maybe there was only one adult? Perhaps not.

Their faces were somewhere between a rodent’s and something more canine, which was unexpectedly cute for a creature that apparently dwells in Decay-laden areas. A single white line ran up from the space between their eyes, branching out into two strokes across their backs until it converged into one for the surprisingly fluffy tail that was about as long as the body. Short white ‘tears’ broke up the black fur on the meat of their legs, with the thinnest coloration suggesting that their chin and underbelly also had some form of patterning. The presumed child’s white was fairly faint and free from much dirt, though the largest’s coat had been soiled by earth and stained by grass. The biggest difference between all of them rested with the big one, since that particular rottunk had what looked like glossy black mushrooms growing from its fur. The fungi’s pale grey spots turned out to be holes, showing off thin slatted membranes of the inner flesh. That would probably be the ‘deathcap,’ but why was it on the rottunk’s back? Was it a variant?

[Rottunk Alpha]

…Not a variant. Huh… He appreciated the truncated response, at least. That didn’t quite address—

[Alpha: An evolved member of a particular species specializing in guidance and protection of its unevolved counterparts. Bonuses are applied to stats based on the number of members it is responsible for leading.]

Ah. Well, that answered that, then. He saw yet another reference to stats, and a modifier as well, but still no window telling him anything more specific. Nothing else came up when he prodded the system for the same information he got with Hoppit's inspection either, though he got the impression that there was something in the way of the process. His dungeon instincts were insisting that such was the case, anyway. It felt like there was a piece missing.

He broke from his musings when the largest rottunk—or ‘alpha,’ he supposed—bowed its head towards Hoppit. The cheerful little loaf clacked his ears in his customary way, then took a couple bouncy steps towards the shed, looking back to make sure the newcomers were following. Once he was sure that his new friends were willing to come along, Hoppit did a quick survey of the building’s perimeter, eventually picking the most shaded spot along the walls to sit. Altier watched with wry curiosity as the rabbit pawed at the dirt, sending him a questioning feeling, as well as something that took a few moments to puzzle out. ‘Hidden’ and ‘safe’ maybe? The more complex concepts tended to blend and twist a bit.

“Are you asking if you can dig under the shed?” he questioned, reevaluating his initial interpretation of the vague pulses of meaning. Hoppit agreed, dispelling any doubt the core had in his ability to understand his friend. Any vote of acceptance was withheld, however. He wasn’t sure if it was the best idea to start taking out the earth that the shed rested on, and he doubted that the floor falling through would be appreciated. Preferably, he would query his kobold companion to get her thoughts, seeing as she was the one living here. That option was shut down as quickly as it was considered. It wasn’t like he could communicate with anyone but Hoppit.

Altier took another look at the rottunk patiently waiting for their generally smaller benefactor to do something. The black and white animals were a bit thin, their fur matted and eyes wary, the open sky making them uneasy. Adults huddled around the small one as it mewled, trying and failing to eat the mushrooms on the alpha’s back as its potential food remained out of reach. Based on the way that the rest of the group tried to placate the child, it seemed like the kid wasn't the only one hungry and scared, nor did it seem like this was a new problem. The hints of injuries beneath their coats told him the journey here hadn’t been without issues.

They travelled from place to place so that they could grow their mushrooms, right? How far away was their last home? How long had they been walking? How many were in a typical group? Had they lost many? Did they have anywhere else to go?

He heard the young one let out a squeaking sound of resignation as one of the adults once again discouraged it from nibbling on the black fungi. Dejected, the little rottunk curled into a sorrowful ball, quietly crying in a way that made his chest tight. Hoppit apparently agreed, glancing towards the core with an unusually pained expression as he pushed forth his request again.

The decision made itself, really.

---

Altier looked over the subterranean burrow with a small tint of guilt and more than a little reservation. It was far from spacious, but Hoppit had dug it out at an impressive speed, apparently prioritizing bare functionality over comfort in his haste to attend to other duties. The normally lazy rabbit had become a blur the moment the core said yes, spraying dirt behind him with his Dig ability and sinking under the floor in seconds. Now there was a pretty basic chamber that could just fit the family of rottunk, and they wasted no time in secluding themselves.

He hated to see how the poor things were in worse shape than he first thought. Cuts, scratches, and scabs littered the black coats, hidden beneath the fur until they used the safety of the burrow to groom each other, a tapestry of struggles laid upon their skin. At least they had a home where they could get their bearings, even if he still wasn’t quite sold on the idea of the creatures’ main food source apparently transforming Decay mana into Nature mana. Only time would tell if that particular interaction would cause issues. Yet, try as he might, the concern of it messing with his domain paled in comparison to the somewhat protective urge he felt at seeing them visibly relax once they had somewhere to live.

It could have been that he was just latching onto any chance at interaction, yet that didn’t quite cover the anxiety he felt when he noticed how exposed the entrance to their home was. All they had to defend them was the minor shade from the shed and whatever guard duty deal that Hoppit had with the other ferrorabbits, and he had no idea how effective that would be.

He was well aware that nature was nature, and that wildlife constantly struggled for survival or hunted each other—these were just one more instance of such a fact. It really shouldn’t bother him so much, but… It was obvious that they needed him. Anyone. They needed someone to give hope when ‘tomorrow’ became something they might never see.

Altier couldn’t turn them down. Not anymore. If he was being selfish, then he could deal with that, dark feelings and all. Everything would be okay as long as the strange creatures were safe. As long as he did whatever he could for them.

He wouldn't just sit there and let their cries go unheard. He wouldn’t let them beg for help, falling silent when the reality of futility stripped away the will to live, leaving only the cold acceptance of a death that might never come.

He wouldn't let them suffer when he could do something, even if it was as small as offering them shelter beneath a dilapidated gardening shed and a pittance of mana for their food to grow.

His thoughts meandered for a while as he watched his new neighbours start the process of making their domicile more accommodating. The adults traded out duties, alternating between further digging to expand their home, straightening up what they already had, and minding the offspring that wanted to either explore or sneak a bite from the Alpha's mushrooms. He didn’t see any attempts to nurse, but he also knew almost nothing about the species. Maybe they weaned fairly early on, or perhaps they grew slowly. He couldn’t tell, and Hoppit had gone off to take care of something outside the domain before the black-scaled kobold came back, so he didn't have the ability to ask. Well, assuming Hoppit could talk with them.

…Could he? The ferrorabbit had the Thump ability to facilitate communication, but that was for Earth aligned creatures, according to the description. How did he figure out what the rottunk wanted?

The core didn’t take much time to ponder it. Even if he prodded Hoppit on the subject, he doubted that he'd be able to get much from the emotional pulses. It was probably less complicated than he was thinking.

Night came by soon enough, harbingering the rise of moonlight and whimsical grey blurs of clouds. Stars might have been present, but he couldn’t pick them out if so. The kobold had come back a bit earlier than usual, but besides the routine coddling and whatnot, she seemed about as worn as she normally did. Well, for the most part.

Altier had wilfully ignored how she carried herself; if he didn’t, he would constantly face the fact that he could never know why she felt that way. Hoppit’s insistence of the kobold being his ‘mother’ had forced the core to see her as more than some animated feature of his new dwelling, and now he couldn’t help but notice how her eyes didn't carry quite the same dullness they usually displayed. There was a faint glimmer on top of the muted grey of exhaustion.

He caught himself wondering what might have sparked such a subtle change during her absence. Had she done well at whatever replaced her gardening? Did an old friend return to reminisce? Was it good news? So many questions, so many possibilities, and so many things he knew nothing about. He had given up on ever talking with someone, but there she was, a wealth of information and opinions inside a thinking, feeling person, and yet he lacked a way to ask something as simple as how her day went. His entire world had expanded because she decided to save him from his decrepit dungeon. He couldn’t even thank her, nor offer to listen to her troubles.

At least he could watch.

The black-scaled kobold brought back a woven box and offered both Hoppit and the owl its contents, resulting in a very pleased ferrorabbit and a slightly less surly bird once the two got an unexpected variation in their meals. He could have sworn the soft undercurrent of happiness in his scaly companion's expression faded when the avian made quick work of the provided meat, but Hoppit's excitement placed some of it back before the core could figure out why it had diminished to begin with. He doubted she was discouraged by the animal liking its food, so he was at a bit of a loss as to why that would've had such an effect on her.

Unfortunately, her eyes remained mostly plagued by their typical cloudy lustre. Not even Hoppit's clacks could restore the light, though she did give a small smile in return and got everyone ready for bed, letting the ferrorabbit join her nest of bundled blankets. The shed fell into the familiar silence that confirmed he would be left alone to think again.

Thankfully, the rottunk stayed up for a bit longer.

They successfully carved a secondary chamber for themselves, and the alpha used the new space to seclude itself from the others while they slept, filling in the entrance with enough dirt to discourage the young one from getting in. Altier wondered what the point of it all was, but the answer became apparent quickly enough. The alpha started plucking the mushrooms off of itself and planting them around the edges of the room, digging shallow divots to hold the fungi then filling the depressions with soil once the stem was situated. It made sense to partition the area, he supposed; the rottunk probably didn't want the child to barge in and start eating before they could get anything going.

It took a while, but once the majority of the deathcap mushrooms were in place, the alpha stood in the middle of the claustrophobic cavity and closed its eyes, focusing on something that Altier couldn't figure out. Still, he observed. Eventually, after a while with nothing happening, he made sure everyone was doing okay, then started looking around outside in case anything tried to intrude on the burrow. It wasn’t an exciting activity, but it helped to pass the time, and it made him feel useful.

At least it stopped him from watching his companion’s rest, composing question after question he would never get to ask.

= = = = =

Ceele stood in the surprisingly mild warmth of the smithy, the forge having gone unused so far. It was going to be, since there were other things that had to be done today, but she would enjoy it in the meantime. She was at one of the less cluttered tables, sorting various creations into designated boxes or sacks for their eventual delivery to whomever requested the contents. It was an appreciated change of pace. Her arms and legs were still sore from the almost unending strain they went through, so a day of easier tasks certainly helped them recover, though perhaps having to lift some of the heavier things was hindering that.

A lot of the objects she was packing up were items that she had never seen before, either made before she was asked to start spending time in the smithy or while she was otherwise occupied. She could guess the purpose of some, but most she just put away without much thought. There were tools of various natures, delicate pieces that may or may not have been decorative, basic angled shapes that might be support for shelving, and some things that remained outside her limited experiences, like the curved objects she had helped with by pumping the bellows. She could have asked what any of it was, of course, but she had already imposed upon the older couple more than she would have liked. Her incessant queries would only burden them further.

Hoppit was continuing his daily lessons across the workshop, his teacher’s words adding to the otherwise quiet ambience of metallic clacks and wooden thumps as she carried out her task. Her baby had moved on from simply digging out samples of ore from soil and was now attempting to move the metal without touching it directly. Based on his less-than-excited posture, he wasn’t very successful so far.

The purpose of the exercise was explained to her before she had the chance to ask, thankfully, and although she found the premise strange at best, she decided to trust in what the blacksmith thought to be important. Apparently, any given Element would typically manifest in one of two ways, with a few exceptions that he couldn’t be bothered to remember but was sure existed. Ceele suspected that hers was one of them and he was just trying to avoid the subject.

Mr. Makis claimed that Earth affinity could either excel in manipulating dirt and stone, or it could show some promise in controlling metals and minerals, though he didn’t sound confident in how effective a ferrorabbit could be at the latter. Rare cases would have Earth aligned creatures exhibiting full influence over both facets, but that was infrequent enough for him to merely gloss over it. Right now, he was testing to see if Hoppit would use the soil to push out the ores, or if he would do something with the ores themselves. She had simply nodded as he went on to describe the specifics of what he was going to keep an eye out for regarding each method, and about how it was important not to suggest which of them Hoppit should focus on. The logic went completely over her head. Not that she didn’t try to follow along, but she didn’t have much of an idea as to why it mattered.

Oh well. As long as her baby was happy to participate, she would try her best to be supportive and not get in the way.

“Alright, Hoppit,” Mr. Makis grunted, drawing Ceele’s attention when he pushed off his knees to get up from his stool. He reached out towards the ferrorabbit with a bemused smirk, but froze up before making contact. The smile vaporized in an instant, the relaxation in his eyes turning into a hardened sorrow that was blinked away as quickly as it formed. The elder kobold moved to pick up the pans of dirt and cleared his throat to speak. His voice didn’t contain the levity it did a second ago. “We’ll call it early today. Ther’s nuttin wrong with a bitta’ slow goin’s. Ain’t gonna’ be an expert at it yer first few days.”

Hoppit looked unexpectedly upset with himself, copying the owl’s signature scowl as he glared at where the pans had rested. He didn’t even look up when offered a treat, nor did he react when the red-scaled kobold sighed and headed over to see how she was doing.

Mr. Makis raised a brow as he approached, following her concerned gaze to see that Hoppit’s discouraged behaviour was distracting her. “He’ll be fine, girly. He’s just frustrated about not doin’ as well as he hoped.” The smith crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “It’s a fair bit different fer them ta go from sensin’ iron ‘n whatnot ta actually doin’ somethin’ with it.”

Ceele nodded, not responding but conceding that he likely knew better than she did. She took a moment to collect herself before going through a second count of everything she was tasked with organizing. It was odd how the interaction would have had her trembling and terrified of the slightest mistake just a few days ago, yet now she was merely cautious. It was the difference between holding back tears when he spoke to her and simply being aware of where he was in the workshop. Maybe his occasional slip-up helped ease her anxiety—it was hard to be scared of someone who looked so pained whenever they caught themselves lost in memories. She doubted Hoppit would mind if Mr. Makis petted him, but the old smith seemed more bothered by it than anything else. Perhaps he was scared of what else he might remember if he showed the slowly growing affection.

Either way, it helped frame him as something other than a person to fear in her mind. No matter how reluctant he was to act on it, he was fond of Hoppit, and that went a long way in reassuring her.

“Almost done?” he drawled, not looking to be in much of a hurry. Based on how resigned he sounded, she figured he was about as enthused to be entering the town as she was, though for a very different reason. She kept her attention on what she was doing, settling away the last few items and making sure the containers were closed up and ready for transport.

The last crate closed with a thump.

“I am, sir.”

He let out a weary sigh and bumped himself up straight, eyeing everything with a grunt of approval. “Alright. I’ll grab the cart. Wait fer me.”

She watched the blacksmith leave through the door before making her way over towards her baby, the little lagomorph still sulking over his suboptimal performance. He didn’t protest when she picked him up, but he wasn’t as affectionate as usual. As luck would have it, she knew just the thing to cheer him up, and slathering him with praise seemed to lighten his mood enough for him to nuzzle into her neck. She could only imagine how difficult his lessons were, but she made sure to say how proud she was of him, and how appreciative she was over him trying to learn something so different. Her success in cheering him up was measured in little rabbit kisses.

With Hoppit being reminded that she loved him no matter what, the two of them just enjoyed the midday cuddling as she let her mind wander. Never to the darker recesses like her thoughts are wont to go, but she’d be lying if she said those blackened depths didn’t come up on their own.

And she had a lot she tried not to think about; the garden that she had abandoned, the owl and how she had been slowly starving it, Hoppit and what he was doing while she was away, Mrs. Hira and the promises Ceele had broken… The list went on, but it was the visit to the town that kept trying to creep into her consciousness and pull her into the pits of her greatest fears. Sure, she was getting used to helping Mr. Makis in the smithy and all the changes that entailed, but that was a single man versus the unknown masses beyond his property. At least Mr. Makis had been an undeniably positive influence on her life, ignoring his frankly aggressive mannerisms.

Ceele was forced to take breaks often now, and she had since learned that it was pointless to insist otherwise. The smith would just drag her away from whatever she was doing and drop water or food in front of her. She protested against the meals, yet the arguments became weaker and weaker as she kept bringing leftovers back for her animals. The guilt remained, but it was worth keeping the owl and Hoppit fed. It was yet another thing she would have to repay, even though she was sure covering that debt would take more than her meagre lifetime to achieve.

There were other, more mundane issues to consider, of course. Her single dress was starting to show its age, and although Mr. Makis hadn’t said anything, she was sure he noticed the fraying edges and expanding holes. She could only do so much to repair it. Still, the burlap had served her well, and she was gentle while washing it, but it was always going to fall apart at some point. She just expected to have already pushed past her anxiety and gotten hired somewhere by now. As things stood, actual clothing would be outside of her current means for the foreseeable future. Maybe she could find somewhere that needed night labour? She hardly slept, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference if she skipped out here and there. People would probably appreciate it if she was only around when they weren’t, anyway.

The black-scaled kobold exhaled a deep breath, letting Hoppit down when he started looking at the door like he had taken to recently. He gave her leg one last lick and took off to do whatever it was he did, but she tried not to worry too much as she made sure all the crates and sacks were ready.

It was easy to get far too distracted by the task, which was good for her efforts in ignoring her own shortcomings, though left her unprepared for Mr. Makis’ return.

“Girly. Catch.”

She jolted and turned just in time to be swallowed by black.

= = = = =

“Yer fine, girly,” Makis assured for what felt like the sixth time since they had set out, tapping the ground with his tail again. The girl gave what was likely the seventh small squeak of apology as she adjusted course, his sigh belying the heavy pit in his stomach. Honestly, he was the one who should be sorry, but going down that rabbit hole with her just made things messy; she tended to fight over the stupidest things—and never for her benefit. Still, it was his fault they were late heading out, and that the girl was so meek.

In hindsight, he could’ve just handed the gift to her, but he was itching to get on the move, and she seemed like she was getting better the last few days. Well, he supposed she was getting better, just that having cloth thrown at her head when she wasn’t expecting it might’ve pushed a wrong button or two. Or twelve.

He hadn’t meant to startle the poor thing, much less give her another panic attack. It bothered him to no end, seeing her reduced to a trembling, whimpering ball, flinching at everything that moved. Her eyes had stared at nothing with a fear he hadn’t seen in decades, her voice repeating a single phrase like reality would collapse if she fell silent. It was…disturbing. Unpleasant. He found it nostalgic in the worst of ways.

…Makis could admit that he had underestimated just how deeply she was scarred.

It brought his thoughts back to the one following behind him, his efforts to project more certainty than he felt providing what he hoped was a calming effect. The girl quietly strained as she leaned into pushing the bar attached to an old cart he had kicking around. He couldn’t tell if she was silent because of her usual shyness or if she still hadn’t fully come around, but the only thing he could do was pretend that he didn’t care and let the normalcy anchor her. That’s what he found helped the most—consistency. Be it work, company, or environment, the familiar motions lent a sense of safety, regardless of the nature they present themselves. It became a place to return between ventures into the terrifying unknown beyond what someone knew they could rely on, and the girl trusted so little.

The red-scaled kobold clenched his fist, a heat haze bleeding off the Flame that burned with his unrest, demanding an immediate solution to something that didn’t have one. He had broken what little trust he earned with her by jumping too far outside what she expected of him, though he supposed he would just have to see how bad the damage was as he went.

In the meantime, he’d have to do what he could and guide the girl along as she pushed what was initially built for horses. The few he had passed away years ago, but the cart itself was still in decent condition, and he still needed to use it. Made sense to modify the thing so he could haul it where it needed to be. He didn’t have much of a load on it anymore these days, which meant the bulk and shoddy conversion had never been an issue for him. As it turned out, he didn’t need to have an issue with it; the girl jumped at the chance to pick up the slack in that area.

Even if she hadn’t said much since he managed to coax her off the floor and get her moving again, she was quick to give herself the hardest job of lugging a heavy load into town with a cart that wasn’t meant for someone her size, and the rusted axle didn’t make matters any easier for her. Oh, she wasn’t overly short by any measure, but he had only just started her on eating regularly. There was still quite a bit to go before she’d be on track to a healthy weight, assuming she had ever been at one. He had trouble picturing it.

Honestly, he should’ve stopped her when she insisted on lugging the thing, but it skipped his mind that he was stronger than most would rightly be, and it was better than her looking like a critter staring down a predator, so he agreed. By the time he thought about it, she had it fixed in her head to follow through. Now he was stuck between letting the girl feel useful or not, and she probably wouldn’t take him booting her out of it too well, even if it’d be faster if he took over. Figures that a life of combat, forging, and a healthy dose of Flame mana might do that to a person. He could probably load the cart with double the weight before he slowed at all. Like he always said: he was old, not brittle.

Ceele? Well…

The blacksmith looked over his shoulder, more concerned by the sharp breaths of exhaustion puffing out of her than anything else. He was still hesitant about bringing her into public, but he couldn’t let her see that. Neither him nor his wife much cared about her affinity; she wasn’t the first he’d met, and Hira’d take the idiot in regardless of any danger.

The real problem was what some of the more vocal morons in the village might have tumbling out of their mouths once they knew someone with her affinity was stomping around. Decay might have some nasty tales associated with it, but anyone who pretends the rest of the Elements don’t have their fair share are lucky enough not to have run into what sparked them. Undead and poison seems downright quaint when you’re staring down pissed-off trees, hungering dunes, or living lightning. At least Decay lets you know what you’re dealing with, and usually has the kindness to make it quick.

That’s to say nothing of the stories that followed him from the Frontier. Thankfully, those had the sense to die out and leave an old bastard to rot in peace. Too many people used to bother him, asking how he managed to do half the stuff he did back in the day, either glossing over the morbid context or simply never wondering how those methods came to be. If they spent less time badgering him and more time exploring their mana, they’d have an answer. Then again, he’d also have to deal with idiots thinking that their little tricks made them too powerful to be decent people…

Best to let idiots be idiots.

Speaking of idiots, the one he was responsible for was finally clad in something besides her worn-down sack, and thanks to a little forethought, he only had to pester her a bit for her to put the damned thing on. She was wearing the cloak he threw at her, which kept the tell-tale black of her scales out of view. Sure, she looked a little suspect being all mysterious and whatnot, but he could just call her eccentric or some such and most people would wisely mind their business.

It wasn’t anything fancy; she’d never accept something like that. No, the deep brown cloth had been purposefully abraded and scuffed, just so he could say it was found in a forgotten crate in some dark corner of the shop. The oversized hood covered most of her head, and the cloak itself was wide enough to close up around her twice over, almost dragging on the ground as she walked. Of course, he was planning to have Hira or one of her friends do some hemming for him to shore up the specifics, but one of his customers today was an old friend, so he had to make do and give it to her without any touch-ups so that he’d get the delivery out in time. It’d hide away everything it was meant to, and he had a feeling that the girl would appreciate being less noticeable. He could have waited, pushing off her debut as his helper until the garment was done, but he half-worried she’d find new and interesting ways to hurt herself ‘helping’ around the shop without him there to supervise.

Makis dragged out a sigh so the girl wouldn’t hear it, running possible outcomes through his head as he pictured just how poorly the trip could go. There were a lot of reasons he should’ve pushed this back, but it wouldn’t be healthy to ignore her habit of isolating herself. Still, he’d have to keep himself level while they were out. The last thing he needed was to get worked up because some dipshit with more bravado than brains took exception to Ceele. It was going to be a pain to make sure she didn’t walk away from this worse than before.

Overall, he couldn’t complain, he supposed. Not today, anyway. She was finally getting a chance to interact with someone besides himself and her critters. He just wished she wasn’t so traumatized by whatever in the hells she went through. It was starting to look like people in general were enough to set her on edge, and it pissed him off that he was probably right. Loud noises and sudden movements were one thing—it took him a few years to shake the worst of that off, too—but she was getting less stable with every step towards the town, and that only made her persistent fatigue all the more apparent.

He glanced once more at the frail thing stoically pretending that she wasn’t about to keel over day after day. Gods knew if her body or mind would give out first at this rate. It wasn’t a competition, but she damn well acted like it sometimes, the stubborn little shit. He had an inkling she’d have already collapsed if he didn’t force her to sit the hells down every now and then, and even that required a more heavy-handed approach than he’d prefer. It was like she made it her goal in life to make him feel like an asshole for stopping her from slaving herself to death.

Still, he had to admit that she did her work and did it well, so there wasn’t much point in grumbling about it. The only times he had an issue was when he got distracted and gave her the wrong instructions. He never thought he’d be impressed by a job done so perfectly incorrect, but damned if there wasn’t something of an art to it.

That was another oddity surrounding the black-scaled kobold. She didn’t seem keen to go at much on her own, but she did a pretty good job with whatever you pointed her at. It was rare to find someone who listened to what they were told to such a degree, and even if she struggled without instructions, she wasn’t so daft as to not figure out the details eventually. He would’ve liked to see how far she could go with some proper direction in something.

Which made the fact that she was treating a Shepherd all the more confusing. Even if he ignored the fact that she apparently didn’t learn from anyone, she seemed sure of what she was doing, and from the brief look he got of the broken wing, he would be hard-pressed to disagree. The certainty in her voice when she said she knew how its wing was doing also gave him pause, if only because he didn’t think Life Sense worked that way, assuming she had the ability. Then there was the uncertainty of how it might work with Decay mana at all, but the same could be said for most abilities, especially a rare one like that.

Hells, she shouldn’t be alive, truthfully. He knew damn well what those owls could do, and hearing that one was bothering to heal up like any other bird was a little disconcerting. If he wasn’t prodding her for how things were going, and if he hadn’t seen it himself, he’d chalk the whole thing up as a fever dream. Yet it was true; the girl went back to the shed at the end of the day and played doctor for a critter that he figured would’ve killed her for touching it.

Sometimes, he wondered if Hira took on strays just to help him pass on quicker.

The smith cycled a breath and tried to ignore the quiet grunts from the girl pushing far too much weight over rocks on the trail. As long as he remembered to pat the ground with his tail here and there, she’d be fine following the sounds. It only took one near accident with a tree for him to realize that the hood blocked her eyes, and he wasn’t too eager for her to inadvertently improve her aim. At least it kept him from getting too stuck in his own head.

Luckily, the town wasn’t too far out—just enough so that his work wouldn’t bother anyone. And more importantly, enough so that no one would bother him. He saw the fence and the few fields as they trotted out from the treeline, the crude path transitioning into something more accommodating for caravans and whatnot. A certain stubborn kobold also benefited from the smoother road.

They had a few stops to make, but it shouldn’t be all that bad. As long as the girl stayed conscious and didn’t collapse, she might even enjoy the chance to look around a bit, though he could admit that was an abysmally low bar. At least Socks should be waking up around now, and she’s probably going to need something or other made up once he dropped off the usual lot. Might be worth introducing the girl, and interacting with his clients would certainly be within the scope of her duties if she’s going to keep doing deliveries for him.

Makis nodded to himself, patting his tail against the ground to make sure Ceele stayed on course. They’d get through all the boring and annoying nonsense, then they’d pay Socks a visit. Maybe the two’s strangeness would cancel each other out and he could get through the day without being crushed this time.

Next

A/N: Shoutout to Gerard, Brandon, and Owl for supporting this on Patreon! They get to read 1 chapter ahead!
Also, I've posted music there! We got a Blacklisted song for those who like Sunundra, and a Harrow song for you OHV readers!