When I wake up my guest is gone. I’d hope that the whole thing was an absurd dream. But my mind has never been that creative and hope has never done much for me. My hearing hones in on sharp metal cutting through the air.

Heading to the closest window, I spy Alessia in my yard. She’s training, despite the heat. Careful not to rip her gown, her movements are restricted. Each step she takes, every swing and turn is slow and deliberate. That said, I can hear how much force she delivers with each strike.

Her fighting style is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Given her wingspan and the length of her sword, each swing covers a lot of area. She maintains a sphere of defense while attacking. Keeping her grip close to her body should she need to adjust at any moment.

Though she’s just practicing, it feels like I’m watching something forbidden. Mostly because each time she moves her legs the gown does more than threaten to rise above her thighs.

I decide to retreat and let her maintain some privacy if she hadn’t noticed me.

I come across that garment she was wearing under her armor. I ignore the pungent odor wafting about and examine it. Whatever this is made of stretches as it’s pulled, it’s dyed well, with no streaks or spots. If there’s someone skilled enough to make clothing like this, I haven’t heard of them. Grabbing a knife, I press the tip of the blade against the garment. I can’t still have no idea what material it’s composed of, but it’s certainly more durable than it has any right to be. I can’t even make a small hole in it.

The thing still stinks, however.

“Alessia!” I call “come wash your garment, and give me that gown. I’ll alter it.”

“Oh, okay,” she answers back.

She’ll need clothes that fit, can’t have her flashing her bits to everyone. I’m no seamstress, but I can sew something that should fit.

She comes inside, sweaty from the blazing suns and her training. Her muscles glisten as she wipes the sweat off her forehead.

“In that blue container,” I point to it, “there’s powder to wash clothes with, use plenty of it on that filthy thing. Clean it in the tub.”

“Yes ma’am,” she responds.

“Don’t call me that, it’s Furti to you,” I reprimand.

“Okay, Furti.”

I take two old dresses from my wardrobe.

“Take your gown off and leave it on the windowsill there.”

She simply nods.

I grab my sewing kit and head outside. A moment later the gown rests on the windowsill. The temptation to look at the now naked stranger in my house is strong, but she’ll be busy being inelegant.

I rip apart the old dresses and sew them together horizontally to the gown, adding some much-needed length and width. The new garment isn’t exactly fashionable, it’s three very different colors and wildly varying fabrics. It’s clear why I’m a farmer and not a dressmaker. But it holds together, maybe. More importantly, it should be long enough to at least cover her gigantic thighs.

Sweet merciful rain, her thighs.

I prick my index finger with the sewing needle, drawing blood, to focus my mind. I let the blood drip into the soil below me.

“Your new dress is ready! Give me your garment,” I call out to Alessia. I put it back on the windowsill. A moment later she takes it and places her under armor there.

I hang it to dry on a clothesline. With no understanding of its making, I don’t know how long it’ll take to dry but it should be done by the time we come back.

Alessia comes out wearing the altered gown. It doesn’t look great, but it does reach her knees, reducing the chance someone will see her-

I choose not to finish that thought.

The stranger is still fit to burst out of her clothing, but it’ll do for now.

“We’re going into town, help me with the cart, please,” I ask her. She obliges, carrying the heavier baskets of crops to the cart. Having another pair of hands certainly makes the work go faster. Once everything I want to sell is on the cart I head to the front and tap the space next to me for Alessia to sit.

When she sits down, the cart tilts a bit. She’s taking up a lot of space up front.

“Oh, this is like a bike!” She remarks looking at the mechanism that moves the cart.

“A bike?” I put my feet up on the pedals. The thing doesn’t have a name, at least any I care to know. I start to push on the pedals and we begin our way into town.

It’s an exhausting process, especially in the summer heat. But I’ve become used to it, I can make this trip expending zero mental energy.

The only difference is the stranger sitting next to me adding substantial weight, and the awkward silence we find ourselves in.

“Is your finger bleeding?” She asks. I look at it with the same wonder. I had forgotten about it already.

“Just a little sewing accident,” I lie while flicking the blood away. Silence falls over us again.

She observes the woods as we progress, a dense forest that resides north of town. My farmstead is in a small cutout of it.

I can tell she wants to ask why I live so far from town, and I have an answer prepared in advance; that it’s closer to the river. It should suffice.

“You live all alone?” She asks suddenly, with a nod to the upcoming town, “any family over there?”

It’s not a question I was expecting. I thought it would be obvious, but I suppose nothing is obvious to Alessia.

“My family died in a plague a long time ago, in a place far from here,” I admit. It’s enough of the truth.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she offers.

“Why? You didn’t know them,” I counter. It came out colder than I intended. I don’t look at her but a pang of guilt cuts me. A feeling I usually push away, but instead I do something about it.

“I was one of the lucky ones, or unlucky, depending on who you ask,” I further elaborate. “It wasn’t a pretty thing, seeing a mass grave filled and burned. It’s why I stay away. Clouds Above, hopefully, another plague won’t happen, but if it does…” I let that hang in the air. It’s not necessarily the truth, but it makes enough sense to be.

“How about you?” I turn to her. I was expecting to see a remorseful look on her face or embarrassment. But she looks unabashed by the information I just disclosed. “You have any family?”

“I don’t know,” she responds. “The Guiding Light took my memory of my homeworld. Whatever life I had before is gone. I know I had one, I just can’t picture it.” She raises a hand to her head. “Like it’s locked behind a door, and I have no way of knowing where the handle is.”

“Why would your Guiding Light do that?” I ask.

“My theory is so that I wouldn’t have any biases, any prejudices I may have formed in my life wouldn’t affect my judgement. So that I could feel I belong anywhere, even when it’s clear I don’t. That any people could be my people. But sometimes I like to imagine I have one, a family that is, somewhere in the infinite universes.”

“You don’t think they’d be sad or worried about you?”

“I think I would’ve told them what I was doing. That they’d be proud of me. Knowing I’m saving lives.”

“It’s certainly something to be proud of,” I comment. I’m still not sure if I fully believe what she’s saying, being from some other universe. Alessia fully believes it, but that doesn’t preclude her from possibly having a heat stroke. I’ve known people who, after spending too much time out in the suns, say some crazy things. But then again, her suddenly appearing and having impossible armor supports her claim.

Perhaps this is all too much for me. Too much trouble, too much attention. I look over at her.

‘She’s certainly too much.’

“We’ll be in town in a little while,” I say. “I’ll sell my wares first, then we’ll see about getting you a dress that fits. Stay near the cart, you attract enough attention as it is.”

She self consciously pulls at her gown.

As we enter the town of Nusquam I stroll past familiar faces with smiles and quizzical looks for the stranger on my cart. Some take from my cart and pay me directly before going back into their clay houses. Others announce that I’m here with goods to sell.

I take the cart to the marketplace, where the majority of my goods will be sold. It’s a hectic, chaotic space with no room for my cart to maneuver through. Stalls and storefronts make up most of the realty. Others just sell their goods on a simple mat.

I’ve been invited several times to start a stall of my own. Having a solid location to sell my goods would certainly increase my profits, but that sounds like a hassle, and money is not why I do this.

My goods sell as well as they usually do, people inspect them and make small talk, a few bring up the stranger on my cart. I lie, telling them she’s a friend from out of town. Perhaps it’s not a lie but an exaggeration. I have only known her for a day.

I decide to stop at one of my favorite spots. A butcher stall, the smell of cured meats greet me before I see the man. Aurelius, as I know him, is always clean despite his bloody business. A neatly trimmed pitch-black beard augments a handsome face with kind brown eyes and a soft smile. Years of his craft and the diet he maintains have made him a man very thick with muscle and fat.

As he sees me approach, a gracious smile stretches across his face.

“Furti!” He calls, running his fingers through his hair despite it being very close-cropped. “It’s wonderful to see you again!” The kind of man he is, I know he genuinely means that. His voice is a warm, calming thing. But he mumbles a bit. When I first met him I could only understand every other word he said. Now I get the gist of what he means and can fill in the rest.

Aurelius is sweet on me, he always buys plenty of my goods, perhaps a bit more than he needs; and always gives me more than I ask for, perhaps a bit more than I need.

In my youth, he’s the kind of man I’d chew up and spit out in a matter of days. I’d ruin him for anyone else. Now that I’m older I wouldn’t say I can’t still do that, but I have the restraint not to.

Whether or not he’s sweet on me, he seems the clingy type. And that’s not something I want; not when I was younger and not now it seems.

With that said, I can’t help but wonder how well he handles his manhood. Given the size and strength of his hands, I imagine he’s well endowed. Is he a gentle lover like his personality suggests? Or is he wild like the animals he sells were in life? If I ever get my hands on his length I’ll-

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste my blood.

I need to focus.

“Hello, Aurelius, how are you today?” I ask him. Blood pools under my tongue.

“I’m well!” he answers “I have quite a nice selection for you. A few of the beasts I hunted myself!” Aurelius usually just buys from hunters, but recently he’s taken up the bow to get his wares. It might be because he wants to save some coin, it might be because he wants to impress me. It might be working either way.

He turns around to get something and I quickly spit the blood out of my mouth. I rub it into the dirt with my foot.

Aurelius turns around with a resplendent hunk of meat.

“Had this beaut sitting in my special spice mix for three days; Bria spice, a winter honey, and a few other things I must keep secret,” he explains.

I chuckle.

“It’s rude to keep secrets you know,” I counter. The irony of the statement is for my amusement.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Well, I’ll give it to you for a nice price, if you give me a good price on your cryodaisies when they’re ready.”

‘Shit.’

“Sure,” I answer. “Anything for the best butcher in Nusquam.”

“That’s easy, I’m the only one!”

We exchange goods and more small talk before Aurelius asks,

“Who’s the tall woman sitting on your cart?” There is curiosity in his voice and a little jealousy.

It figures word would travel fast.

“She’s a friend from out of town,” I lie. He squints quickly, having trouble believing I have a friend out of town. I’ve made a point of being somewhat antisocial here. “A bit of tragedy, she’s looking to start over here. She’s touchy about it, so try not to bring it up,” I lie further. Aurelius is a kind-hearted man, he will spread the word and others will listen to him. Preemptively stopping any strange rumors about who Alessia is.

“Got it, where’s she staying?”

“I put her up in my place,” I assure him.

“That’s really kind of you,” he responds, not without a hint of more jealousy. He must’ve heard how beautiful Alessia is.

We conclude our business and I weave my way through the marketplace. There’s a noticeable amount of people pretending as if they’re not staring at the stranger on my cart. Alessia no doubt notices, but she’s just observing everything.

I return my now empty baskets to the cart.

“Good day at the market I take it?” She asks.

“Market’s abuzz with people because a beautiful stranger has shown up in town,” I answer.

“You think I’m beautiful?” She inquires with a raised eyebrow.

“I have eyes, Alessia. A blind man could sense your beauty I think,” I admit.

“My,” she says.

“But,” I continue, “you’re also new. All new things are beautiful in their own way. I was new for a while, but people get used to you, to your beauty. They get used to everything. So don’t let it go to your head.”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

I scoff at her.

“Let’s go to the seamstress before more people gawk at my terrible handiwork,” I say referring to the gown.

“You should be more proud of this. I don’t know how to sew,” she says while following me.

“What do you do if your undergarment rips?” I idly ask.

“It’s made from a magnetic weave,” she says. I can only imagine what that means. “It can repair itself,” she further explains.

I almost ask how, but think about the long answer attached.

“I see,” I respond instead.

As we walk to our destination Alessia draws more attention as people see her at her full height. She doesn’t seem to mind, possibly because she’s used to it.

We enter the dressmaker’s shop; though it’s made from the same clay bricks as all the other shops, it’s much cooler inside than others. It’s because of its high domed ceiling, letting the heat rise. The woman who runs the shop, Amabel, is checking a bolt of fabric.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she says before turning around. Her voice is light and weaving, such as her talented handiwork. She keeps her short black hair tied up in a bun with a head covering of her own design.

I’ve never asked how old she is, the seamstress seems to be around my age. Wrinkles from many smiles and time spent out in the suns grace her face. She has the vibrant spirit of someone much younger, however. She’s wearing a light blue dress with floral embroidery, it’s very impressive stitching.

Amabel, on the surface, seems like a delicate beauty that faints at the notion of hand-holding. But looks are deceiving.

“Hello, Furti,” she greets me. “Have you finally come to try out dresses for me?” She looks me up and down with a heavy gaze. Amabel keeps offering for me to model her dresses, but it’s clear that she’d prefer to see me not wearing one at all. Her glances and lip bites are too subtle for most but I catch them like one would a falling fruit.

She’s a coy woman, hoping I’ll become curious enough to acquiesce to her advances. There are some days she looks like she intends to swallow me whole if I let her, others where she wants me right then and there. Today seems like the latter as her black eyes scan me once more.

Something tells me she doesn’t like to surrender control, and neither do I. It’s for that reason and a few others that I don’t get to know her more personally.

All that aside, when the weather is scorching she wears less modest clothing; and from what I’ve seen of it, she has quite the stunning body underneath. I cannot deny a curiosity of what remains to be seen. Sometimes a breeze pushes her dress closer to her body and I get hints of the curvaceous figure she boasts. And just thinking of her long, slender fingers, so deft and capable. They’d-

I bite down on the already open wound in my mouth.

My mind has been straying far too much lately. I don’t know how much time passed since Amabel asked her question so I quickly answer,

“I came to get a dress made for the woman to my right.”

I find it hard to believe that she didn’t see Alessia standing next to me, but she just takes notice of her.

“Well, aren’t you tall?” Amabel asks.

“I’ve been hearing that a lot today,” Alessia says back.

“And what are you wearing?” She asks with thinly veiled disgust.

“I made it for her to wear,” I point out.

“And what a lovely dress it is,” Amabel changes her tone “it has character.”

“Yes, my clothes are…gone,” Alessia speaks up. “I’d rather not talk about it. I’m looking to start over here.”

I knit my brow at her wording. It’s exactly what I said earlier.

“You poor thing,” Amabel comforts her. “Let's see if we can’t get you something more…form-fitting.” She takes the giant woman by the hand and leads her towards the back of her shop, grabbing a measuring tape on the way.

I look around the shop for a bit before I hear Amabel ask,

“Furti, you're welcome to come over and watch my craft. You might find it…enlightening.” She’s usually more subtle with her flirtations, but that one is a direct invitation.

Alessia raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll wait outside,” I say. As I walk out I hear Amabel gasp.

“Suns Above, you’ve got quite the pair on you!” She says.

“Thanks,” Alessia says back.

I bite my cheek once again and go outside.

The marketplace is still abuzz with activity, idle chit chat and serious trading go on but it all blurs together to me.

I close my eyes and lift my face to the suns. Their harsh heat spreads all over my skin. The pain in my mouth lingers as I try to focus my mind.

‘The pain will fade. It always does. There’s nothing you can do about it, so concentrate on what you can do.’

I inhale through my nose, hold my breath, and exhale through my mouth. I can feel the sweat rolling from my forehead but the heat doesn’t register. The pain fades. The world speeds by as I stand still.

No thoughts disturb the serene ocean of my mind.

“Furti, come in!” Amabel calls for me.

How much time passed I can’t say but from the heavy amount of sweat on my forehead, it’s been a while. All the heat that’s baked me comes to mind.

I reenter the shop, happy to be out of the suns. Amabel leads Alessia from around a corner.

The giant woman is dressed in a deep blue dress, made from handwoven silk. It’s a sleeveless design since there isn’t enough material on Pax to cover all of this woman. It’s a simple look but she wears it well. A pink length of rope hugs her waist to accentuate her muscular build.

No surprise that the bulk of her dress is held up by her chest, I imagine it can hold up a lot of things. Still, the dress reaches her ankles, solving the indecency issue.

“Not my finest work, but it’ll do. I have your measurements so I can work on better stuff, but for now, you have this,” Amabel says.

“It’s lovely, Amabel,” I comment. “How much do I owe you for it?”

The dressmaker scoffs,

“Darling, please. It’ll be fun to create dresses for such a…” she searches for the words “unique physique.”

“Thank you?” Alessia asks.

“You can take that one back and I’ll send you some more when I finish them, think of it as a welcome gift from me.”

“Are you sure? That’s very kind of you,” Alessia notes.

“Welcome to Nusquam,” Amabel simply says.

“I’ll see you later, Amabel,” I say as we exit.

“Here’s hoping!” She says back.

We walk out into the suns again and Alessia twirls around in the dress, letting the fabric flow freely in every direction.

“This is nicer than any clothes I’ve ever had,” Alessia says. She still has the mismatched gown I made in her hands.

“I’ll take that back,” I say, reaching for the hideous thing. She leans away from me, just enough that I can’t grab it. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“You made this for me, so I want to hold on to it,” she explains.

“It’s ugly, give it to me,” I demand. She leans back again.

“It has personality,” she counters with a stern face. “I want to keep it.”

I can tell that arguing with her won’t produce any results and there’s something else more important I want to discuss.

“Earlier, you said to Amabel that you’re looking to start over here,” I point out.

“That’s right.”

“That’s exactly what I said to Aurelius before.”

“I know, I heard you,” she says casually.

“You heard me say that to him?”

“Yes.”

Never mind the distance I was from the cart, the number of people walking around the marketplace should’ve made it impossible to hear me clearly.

“My senses are very acute,” she explains as if that’s a sufficient answer.

She has no reason to lie about that, but the fact she deceived Amabel with my words shows she’s capable of lying.

I feel the hair rise on the back of my neck again, but I get my heartbeat under control. With her standing right in front of me, she might hear it.

‘What kind of person am I dealing with?’ I’m unreasonably worried that she can hear my thoughts.

“Well, regardless of that,” I change the subject “let's get you some shoes, you definitely can’t fit mine.”

“The shopping spree continues,” Alessia cheerfully says. At first, I think she’s being sarcastic but the wide smile she has suggests she’s genuinely enthusiastic. Personally, I’d rather go home but she’ll need shoes for the truly scorching days that are coming soon.

“The cobbler is over here, we’ll get you a pair that should suffice for now.”

“Okay but I-” Alessia stops in her tracks and a concerned look grows on her face. “What is that sound?”

I give a listen and hear nothing but the sounds of people of life around me, nothing unusual.

“What sound?” I ask.

“It sounds like gigantic stomping,” she answers.

I sincerely hope she’s mistaken, or that this is her version of a joke.

But then a strong breeze comes through, usually a welcome gift, but then I smell it. Decaying flesh rides on the wind. Everyone around tenses up as they smell it too.

“Shit,” I say aloud. Alessia’s face scrunches up as the scent hits her. I look around to see everyone standing in place, afraid to make a sound. Alessia is looking around frantically, trying to piece together what’s happening. I have to remind myself she’s not from this world, as hard as that is to believe.

I gesture for her to be quiet and still by making a circle with my hand and pressing it against my forehead. She gives me a quizzical look in return.

‘You can’t be serious right now.’

I stealthily walk over to her and in the lowest possible voice I whisper,

“Don’t move or make a sound,” I tell her. Then I hear it, the stomping. I point my eyes in the direction it’s coming from. It doesn’t matter that there’s a building in my line of sight, because it towers over it in the far distance.

With its colossal legs, it marches forward. At this distance, I can’t tell its trajectory, if it’s heading towards the town. The sound of its steps echoes towards us. Alessia sees it too, the warrior’s eyes analyze the being looming towards us.

That solidifies the fact that she’s not from here. A person with even the most suns-baked brain would never look at what is approaching us and think it’s a problem that can be solved.

With its size, it only takes a couple of steps for it to get significantly closer. Each step shakes the ground violently. The reverberations make my teeth chatter.

As it gets closer a wave of relief hits me as I see it’s not heading straight to the town. One of its cloven hooves is the size of a building, the damage it could do is unmatched.

The gigantic, six-legged creature gets closer. Its gleaming white hair is blinding in the summer suns. It seems to be an adult from the three yellow horns protruding from its head. They’re all equal in length, I’d say they’re about forty feet long.

When it gets closer I see my suspicions are correct, this one is dead. Its large eyes are milky white, staring off into nowhere. Its long snout is agape, showing off the many teeth it possesses. On its side, part of its ribcage is exposed, rotting away. I’d guess this one has been dead for a month, with the suns accelerating the decay.

The stench becomes unbearable as it gets closer. Alessia covers her mouth with her hand and has a very distressed face, she looks like she might vomit. I can’t blame her, the smell makes my eyes water.

The ground shakes as the creature walks just next to our town. A man selling vases from a stand tries to hold onto them all, but one slips from his grasp. Dread runs down my spine at the sight but Alessia, moving faster and quieter than she has any right to, grabs ahold of it; inches before it hits the floor.

Everyone, myself included, stare in awe.

These creatures, even when dead, are sensitive to sound. There are many cautionary tales of someone making a loud noise when one was nearby and inadvertently destroying the whole town. Though they are incapable of malice, fear is usually the only thing they elicit.

Alessia, for all her worlds traveling, I wonder if she’s ever seen anything like this. Has she ever seen a moving, living thing that’s bigger than her before?

Is arching her neck back an unfamiliar feeling to her?

The creature walks off to wherever it’s destined to fall.

After a sigh of relief, everyone who saw Alessia catch the vase applauds her.

Seems being a hero comes naturally to her.

She gives nods to everyone, acknowledging their praise but not basking in it.

Things return to normal shortly thereafter. As we head to the shoemaker Alessia finally asks,

“What was that thing?”

“It was an Exanideus,” I explain. “Not much is known about the beings. No one dares to study them,” I lie.

“Mostly because previous attempts ended in disaster. Whatever kills them still animates their bodies,” I explain further “but what it is exactly is unknown. It probably wouldn’t be good for our bodies.”

Alessia ponders the information I’ve given her. She clearly has many questions about it but tries to consider which I can answer. I can’t say to what extent, if any, that she’s probed my intelligence. I get the feeling she has a lofty standard for what she considers a highly intelligent person. She should think I’m at or below-average intelligence.

Alessia puts a hand on her chin in thought.

“I’ve seen similar conditions in other creatures in my travels, but nothing of that scale. Have you ever seen one of these creatures alive?” She asks.

“No,” I answer, “but those more spiritual than me consider seeing a living one to be a great blessing.”

“You don’t consider yourself spiritual?”

I hadn’t expected her to turn the conversation back to me.

“I’m more of a pragmatic person. Blessings and good luck don’t make my crops grow, only I can.”

“I can understand that,” she comments. “How many of these creatures are there?”

“I did say no one studies them, right?”

Alessia nods, taking my meaning. Still, I see her mind working behind her eyes. Because she’s new to this world she has an almost childlike curiosity towards it but possesses the scientific inquisitiveness of an adult.

I just hope her curiosity doesn’t lead her to dark places.

Chapter End