Sundance and Sue stared blankly at each other, both trying to figure out what the other was thinking without resorting to explicit telepathy. Sue was losing that battle and she knew it, forcing her to come up with an excuse—a very valid reason in its own right, but one being used as an excuse here all the same. “Don’t you think that me being there after what happened with Spark and... her friend would help?”
Her question finally broke through the vixen’s thoughtless confusion. Unfortunately, all it resulted in was a quiet sigh as she shook her head, plumes of red fur warming the surrounding air with each motion. Her brief pause right as she was about to speak gave Sue a brief flash of hope, but sadly, it wouldn’t last.
“^While I can’t deny it being a good idea to bring up your incident and show how our separation is even harming third parties, I doubt your physical presence there would help.^” Sundance explained. “^I know you feel guilty about Solstice’s breakdown and are invested in all the ugly history that led to it, but you’re not responsible for any of this. These aren’t your sins to be burdened by, Sue.^”
As much as the Forest Guardian wanted to disagree and keep asserting her point, she couldn’t risk that. She had already almost given too much away through her insistence, and doubling down would only make it worse. A part of her wanted to just drop the pretense and explain her dream and the quest it had unwittingly led her on, but she feared that all explaining it would accomplish was to undermine it, tainting her efforts with a self-serving aspect in others’ eyes.
And so, Sue had no choice but to pretend to relent instead. “I-I suppose. It’s just… rough, to only be able to watch from the sides and hope that Spark and P—her friend can be friends in peace one day...”
Sundance sighed. “^It absolutely is. Alas, it’ll be a touchy, difficult discussion either way, its outcome up to the whims of Fate. I doubt your voice would help much—your deeds will be plenty, believe me.^”
Sue acknowledged her mentor’s words with a pretend somber nod. On the one hand, she was glad that Sundance wasn’t suspecting anything, but on the other… she did have a point, as much as it pained the once-human to admit it. Who knew whether the people of Newmoon would care even slightly about a second Forest Guardian showing up there in an attempt to steer their judgment. The more she thought about it, the less enthusiastic she was at the idea of disregarding Sundance’s words and tagging along anyway. But…
…
…
What else could she do? Give up? Let her Destiny be swayed by yet more forces and events beyond her control or comprehension? Again?
Fat chance—
A couple pats of a warm, furred paw snapped Sue out of any further moping. The vixen gave her a soft smile, softer still by the virtue of her inebriation, and an approving look. “It’s alright, Sue,” she reassured. “You’ve already helped plenty—more than most here can earnestly claim. You make the most of your stay in Moonview, and we’ll do our best to clean up the murk in the background. I’d even say that focusing on that, on making the most of a nice, calm day, is the best thing we could all do today. Compose yourself, take a deep breath, and enjoy this slice of spring. How’s that sound?”
Relaxing wasn’t Sue’s strong suit, not one bit, especially not after her father’s passing. Each day had a shopping list of tasks that needed to be dealt with, ranging from urgent like work, urgent like keeping on top of her classes, urgent like making sure she had something to eat, urgent like doing laundry, to urgent like churning through her schedule to carve out just a single week of vacation from it all.
Though… suppose that if I’m already taking a break from reality, having a day focused on relaxation wouldn’t hurt.
“Alright, th-thank you,” Sue sighed, shaking herself out of the earlier topic. “What did you have in mind?”
“I could retrieve Solstice, and then we could go for a walk and chat about more pleasant matters. Maybe even enjoy a mug or two of something harsher come evening. How’s that sound?” the vixen asked, smiling.
Not particularly riveting.
Then again, neither was Sue’s preferred relaxation method back at home, consisting of loading up her favorite sandbox video game, disconnecting her brain from all external stimuli, warping in time to about twelve hours later, and acting all surprised at it suddenly being dark outside.
“I-I like that, yeah,” Sue halfheartedly answered.
“Great. Astra, we’ll be heading out, mind—” Sundance began, before pausing after looking in the dragon’s direction.
Astra was talking to the gray, four-armed builder Sue remembered seeing a couple times, their sheer bulk making them nearly match the dragon in size despite them only having about a foot on Sue’s current body. The builder took their leave shortly afterwards, but Astra remembered to respond to her name before flying off with them. “Oh! I’m sorry Ma’am Sundance, I’ve just been called to help with moving some ore and rock around, I can’t—”
“Don’t worry, Astra,” Sundance reassured, “we’ll just ask Splitleaf. It’s no problem.”
“A-alright, hopefully Joy will be alright with that too. See you all later!” the dragon waved.
“Take care, Astra!” Sue added, lifting Astra’s mood as she took off. Right as she was about to follow in Sundance’s pawsteps and head out, though, their idea of leaving the kids under the leafy mantis’ watch ran into a hitch—a toothy, two faced, tripping hazard of a hitch.
My favorite hitch.
Joy clinging to her good leg almost made Sue fall over then and there, Sundance’s intervention thankfully helping her regain stability. “Joy! Wh-what’s wrong sweetie?” she asked, startled.
The toothy girl shuddered at her friend having suddenly raised her voice. The answer she had in mind ran into the obstacle of not knowing enough words, in any language, to properly formulate it. Ultimately, Joy mumbled to the best of her ability, hoping beyond hope it’d be enough. “N-n-n-n-not g-go...”
Awwh.
If Sue had the ability to, she would’ve squatted and pulled Joy into as big of a hug as she was capable of. Alas, all she could do was stare down at her with a soft, sad smile, and feel bad for her—at least, until an obvious idea presented itself. “Well, you could come with us if Sundance agrees—”
“And I do,” Sundance followed up. “I imagine it’d be much easier to keep up with us while being held. Unfortunately, that’s not an option for Sue with her crutch, but I could hold you, Joy, if you’d want.” The vixen’s words broke through Joy’s tunnel vision on her friend, making her jump with a by-now-predictable startle. As opposed to her previous scares, though, she wasn’t as completely terrified this time, considering the idea seriously enough to look up at Sue for her opinion.
And in return, she got a big smile and an even bigger nod—it didn’t get more positive than that. Since Sue trusted the Fire-type, so could she, Joy supposed. She closed her eyes as she reached her arms up to the vixen, bracing herself for… something.
The rattle of metal against metal wasn’t a pleasant sound, but it was thankfully brief.
Joy’s jolt at suddenly being surrounded in Sundance’s glow made her snap her maw shut with enough force to make Sue gulp, especially with her hand having been recently present there. Once the metal girl was done being spooked, she looked around her new position in the vixen’s arms, relaxing at the surrounding warmth.
“Like the view?” Sundance asked, smiling down at her. In a first, her comment didn’t startle Joy any further, the little one just acknowledging her words with a nod as she waved at Sue, smiling giddily. Her friend returned the gesture once they got moving—but unfortunately for them, they weren’t the only ones leaving the playground at that moment.
The mixture of loud chitters and quieter hisses running up to them made Sue look over her shoulder, just in time for the strangers to overtake them. Sue wasn’t familiar with the green-cream snake and their fancy yellow collar, but that couldn’t be said for the pink scorpion bat beside them.
Sadly, Joy noticed them too, whimpering as she withdrew further into Sundance’s arms. “Oh?” the vixen perked up. “What’s wrong, Joy—” she tried to ask, trailing off at connecting the dots between the strangers’ appearance and the girl’s reaction. With a tired sigh, she switched tracks to telepathy, privately asking Sue, “^I’m guessing they were the ones that hurt her a couple days ago?^”
“I-I think so, yes.” Sue confirmed, her voice distracting Joy from dwelling further on her fear, to both adults’ relief. She couldn’t hold the metal girl in her arms, but she could at least hold her hand with her free one to calm them both down.
Sundance summed the situation up, “^Unfortunate,^” before shaking the train of thought off and taking the lead again. Sue was of half a mind to keep going with that subject, ask her mentor about if there was anything they could do to help the girl. Before she could force the words out of her throat, though, another person passing by caught Sundance’s attention instead, the previous topic unintentionally snuffed out. “Afternoon, Kantaro,” the vixen greeted. “How’s work going today?”
The craftsbug had to turn around with most of his body to look up at the vixen. Her presence provided him some relief, enough to make him slow down for a moment as he responded, voice low and grumbly, “It’s going. That swing was long overdue, and Root talked me into putting up another shrine.” He accompanied the mention of the shrine with what looked like a quick prayer in its direction.
A bit unnerving, but at least he isn’t thinking any less of us for not following along.
“Glad to hear about the swing. Wonderful statue, by the way. Really sells Her being in motion,” Sundance praised. To Sue’s surprise, Kantaro’s only response to the vixen’s words were drawn out grunts and grumbles, only conveying annoyance. Her mentor didn’t mind, continuing, “Got to keep trying, then.”
Kantaro muttered, “On and on, indeed. At least the rest of the day is more banal.”
“Hopefully it brings you calmness if nothing else, then. See you around, Kantaro.”
The craftsbug acknowledged Sundance’s parting words with a curt nod before taking a sharp turn towards the ongoing construction effort. A few questions crept up onto the forefront of Sue’s mind as their impromptu band marched on in a straight-ish path. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh?” Sundance and Joy alike looked at the Forest Guardian in confusion, if for different reasons. Namely, uncertainty at Sue’s question and surprise at suddenly finding herself so sleepy because of all the warm fluff around her, respectively.
“I-I watched him make that statue,” Sue explained, “it’s so well done and everyone else thought so too it seemed... what’s his problem with it? O-or is it with the Pale Lady—”
Sundance firmly shook her head. “Oh no, it’s only ever with his own craftsmanship. I’ve hardly met anyone that’s as unflinching of a devotee as Kantaro.”
Sue blinked, stunned. “But that statue was wonderful!”
“Wonderful, but not perfect,” the vixen stressed.
“But… nothing is perfect.”
“Usually, I’d agree with you, but,” Sundance sighed, “that’s not how he sees it. He has tasted perfection twice, and hasn’t repeated it in many, many years now.”
Right as Sue was about to ask about which of Kantaro’s creations was supposedly ‘perfect’, a particular sight crept back into her thought process. One incomparably more impressive than even that pretty statue, stunning to even recall.
I’ll never have a fraction of Solstice’s devotion to Duck, but fuck me if her altar doesn’t look divinely inspired—
…
He had tasted it twice.
“And let me guess, only one of those perfect creations is still standing?” Sue asked, keeping her voice down. Sundance’s knowing, sad smile was all the confirmation she needed, making her feel bad for the craftsbug at her awful hunch having turned out to be accurate. To have one of his finest creations destroyed because of what was ultimately prejudice… harrowing. Though, it also only made his unflinching devotion even more confusing. “That’s rough.”
“It is. Thankfully, he got rid of one massive weight on his shell a couple of years ago. It helped, but… in the end, it only put further pressure on his struggle for perfection afterwards,” the vixen explained, adding another unknown to Sue’s mental pile.
She was curious about it, but there was another question she wanted to ask first. “I see. While he was working, someone else came up to him and—”
“Let me guess—off-white and dark purple, with a fiery collar and a bad temperament?” Sundance grumbled, growing palpably annoyed by the word.
“Yeah, them.”
“Root. Figures the old coot has nothing better to do than to come and micromanage, hmph.”
The name chilled Sue as she thought back to the vixen’s lecture from the previous day. His manipulation, his prejudice towards the night kin, the recollection rushing into the once-human’s mind as her own heartbeat suddenly grew deafening. “H-him.”
To think I’ve wasted my opportunity to shout something in his face.
“Indeed,” Sundance sighed. “He’s still around, serving as the Night Mother’s chief priest. Leads most of the big, important ceremonies and has little useful to do otherwise.”
As if I needed another reason to like that leafy lady more.
If Sue had any idea what they had said, she would’ve probably had to hold herself from clapping at what had to be some sort of overt disobedience towards the priest. “I don’t like him.”
“Welcome to the club; it’s a large one. Petty, old—” Sundance’s words cut off into a low, untranslated grumble. Knowing the vixen, it probably contained at least a couple of swears. As curious as Sue was, she didn’t push any deeper. Partly because she didn’t want to wind herself into fury on what was supposed to be a day of relaxation, and partly because the sight ahead was much more eye-catching.
So that’s what Willow’s doing when they’re not tending to people at the clinic.
Passing medical knowledge on was a truly inexhaustible task, one that the chubby medic was very glad to be undertaking. Despite how reserved their squeaks and mumbles usually were, their lecturing voice was loud and clear, not wavering even as they gestured at the sketches behind them.
The massive, blackboard-like slab they stood in front of was covered with chalk drawings, most of them looking like an anatomical cross-section of sorts. Of what exactly, Sue had no idea beyond a vague guess that it was some creature’s arm. Regardless of who exactly was having their body stripped down to the basic parts, Willow was describing them in rather impressive detail. Each individual bone, tendon, and muscle were accompanied by a couple of sentences and an occasional demonstration of the medic moving their free arm around in some specific way.
Everyone in the audience either repeated their gestured, asked questions, or waited for the co-lecturer to chime in as well. The exact shape of their body was… difficult to discern from the distance. It had three dark green, leaf-like growths sprouting out from a central point at their base, with their ‘actual’ body growing out of the central growth. The massive collar of dozens if not hundreds of multicolored flowers surrounding their head made it hard to make out anything above their… ‘waist’.
Yep, that one has to be the ‘plant’ type that Petal was.
The thought about types made Sue want to give classifying the surrounding strangers another shot—
“Sue? Mind taking a seat here and waiting for me to grab Solstice?” Sundance asked, instantly snapping Sue out of her focus. She was unsure why she was brought along here only to split up again afterwards, but it didn’t really matter. The lecture before her would occupy her attention for as long as was needed.
“Sure.”
The Forest Guardian paid only as much attention to the nearby bench as was strictly necessary for her to sit down on it. Her left arm immediately resumed its affection autopilot once Joy had scrambled up and took her seat beside her. Each gentle, drawn out pet of her back maw relaxed the girl further while her guardian watched the lecture with interest.
The medical student Sue’s attention latched onto was… hard to miss. Both because of their stark, mostly white coloration, and even more so because of their constant activity. They asked well over half of all the questions coming the lecturers’ way—and judging by the responses being eager, in-depth, and without as much as a sign of exasperation, these sure sounded like productive questions, too.
It was almost enough to make Sue overlook the student in question being a cat and their questions being delivered in meows.
The realization forced her to suppress her giggling, lest she’d draw attention to her own rudeness. Her composure was as appropriate as it was ultimately pointless, with Willow eventually noticing her being in the extended audience and greeting her with a brief wave, drawing the entire crowd’s attention towards her for a brief moment. Aside from being an immensely overwhelming experience, it also let Sue glimpse the attentive cat’s golden eyes before they refocused on the lecture proper, being the first one to do so.
Most of my professors would kill for a student this proper.
The other students weren’t as engaged, but were taking mental notes all the same. After a few more minutes of discussion about a mammalian-looking arm, the drawings were steadily replaced with… a cross section of a plant, capped off with a distinct hand.
Appropriately enough, the living bouquet took the lead during that part, with Willow stepping back to take a secondary role. The flowery medic’s sketches turned out to be much larger and more intricate than Willow’s, owing to their vastly better reach. Instead of a stubby paw, they drew with a… long, prehensile vine that sprouted from somewhere in the mess of flowers surrounding their head; the stick of chalk glided along the stone with the speed and precision that would make even tenured physics professors jealous.
That vine tentacle is… eerily glib.
As unnerving as that realization was, it soon became much worse at the realization that her own mental reach felt eerily similar when she was using it. It wasn’t just long, thin, and agile, but it was also entirely invisible to anyone but the fellow psychics—
…
...let’s just drop that subject.
Trying to shake off the uncomfortable train of thought, Sue looked around the plaza. Many of the passersby were keen to take a few minutes out of their routine to stop and listen to the lecture—most of them, at least. Most of those that weren’t were busy moving cargo around. Clay pots of various liquids, woven baskets of fruit and grain, even an entire log here and there. Though, for some, even having stuff to carry wasn’t an obstacle to absorbing some knowledge.
The low thud coming from nearby made Sue jump and look at its source. A red humanoid with greenish metal covering most of their upper body, and a ponytail that either just looked like flames, or… was flames. Their appearance tingled a remote bell in Sue’s head, but she couldn’t say she was truly familiar with them. She didn’t recognize the small boulder they sat down on, either—must’ve been something they brought with themselves.
No way that's comfortable, but who am I to judge?
Nearby swooshes of wind and grunts of annoyance snatched Sue’s attention before she could refocus back on the lecture. As much as she expected to see someone struggling to carry something through the streets, she sure didn’t expect said thing to be a slab of solid stone the size of a fridge—let alone two.
If nothing else, both of them were being carried by two people each, one of them bringing a wide smile to Sue’s face—followed by a chuckle at just how much higher Astra’s flying point of leverage was compared to that of the gray four-arms, inadvertently pushing most of the stone’s weight down on him. Even despite that, the dragon was still struggling immensely, wings forced to work so hard to keep her in the air that the resulting gusts knocked a couple of passersby off balance.
The other slab, in turn, was carried by the red robot insect she’d seen work with the other builders, as well as the smaller, blue rhino who may or may not have taken part in the show fight at the feast. And who, despite all the dangers that involved, waved at Sue after noticing her, the stone slab thankfully remaining stable throughout.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Considering they probably risked their life for that wave, I might as well return it…
Once she waved back at them, Joy sliding off the bench and hesitantly stepping closer to the lecture took Sue out of any further OSHA-violating thoughts. The Forest Guardian giggled at the girl’s tentative steps mixed with anxious looks back at her, as if to see if she was still there and watching.
Don’t worry sweetie, I’m not going any—
…
…
Oh no no no NO NO NO NO —
Any jubilant mood Sue might’ve had burned the instant she spotted that thing in the plaza’s corner. Her breaths grew shallow, heart threatening to break out of her chest, even as the red beast that had almost ended her life a few days ago remained none the wiser to her attention. Her vision swam as she followed the savage insect’s every movement and watched it skitter down the street. She grasped her crutch in terror in case she needed to get out of here—
Oh god it’s looking at me it’s looking at ME NO NO NO NO GO AWAY GO AWAY—
In a move that her fear-gripped mind found almost impossible to process, the spider proceeded to do just that. It quickly skittered into a nearby alleyway, though whether it was to get away from her or try to flank her and finish the job was yet to be seen. The latter was an absurd possibility, and Sue was well aware, but there was no way in hell she’d give that thing an opening.
Once the red beast was gone, her attention finally detached itself from its last known position, jumping between all the paths that connected to the clearing, constantly looking out for it. A small part, deep inside her, knew full well that even if she did catch them, she wouldn’t be able to outrun them, making all this pointless—but her terrified mind was deaf to those concerns, stuck in a repetitive, anxious loop.
If Sue wasn’t freaking out, she would’ve joked at said loop feeling like something out of a shoddy indie horror game—and just like in a shoddy indie horror game, there was a mandatory jumpscare at the end. It might’ve taken the form of Willow’s voice from close up as opposed to a speaker-blowing screech, but it was hardly any less effective because of that, Sue only barely stopping herself from screaming out loud.
…
Oh.
The two lecturers and the aptly nicknamed teacher’s pet were standing before her, their emotions easy to sense now that her mind was no longer actively choking itself with fear. Willow’s eagerness, bouquet’s concern at her startle, the cat’s unemotional and yet very intense focus as the pink medic pointed at Sue’s bandaged leg.
Should I… lift it up?
Thankfully, Sue’s hunch turned out to be a correct one, letting Willow’s lecture continue as they reached a paw underneath her leg to help keep it lifted. What they were talking about, Sue wasn’t sure, and could only guess it was either about treating injuries like hers, or about the intricacies of wrapping bandages.
The white-navy cat’s barrage of questions was unceasing, to their mentors’ delight—that is, until one of them prompted a much longer back and forth between them and Willow, with even the living florist shop interjecting with their own curiosity. At some point, the question finally fell in Sue’s court to answer, if the entire trio refocusing on her was any sign at least.
Uh… can I ask the audience?
The incomprehensible question resulted in the first instant of utter, unbroken silence between the trio in the last few hours. And only an instant of silence it was, Willow reminding themself of the obvious soon after and commenting on it out loud. The cat acted without skipping a beat by… unfolding one of their ears and revealing a golden, eye-shaped something inside it, the lack of fur making it look almost fleshy.
And then, as one does, said something lit up in a bright, golden flare, much like she’d seen Solstice’s and Sundance’s eyes do in the past. Fittingly enough, it was followed with a jolt inside Sue’s mind, blunt and coordinated, and then by the flattest feminine voice Sue had ever heard in her life. “Hi. Willow’s asking why you tried to walk with a broken leg.”
Sue needed a hot minute to parse through the cat’s question, the hesitation annoying them slightly. The emotion was so unnaturally well hidden inside her mind that Sue almost didn’t notice, though.
“Uh, I was sca—” Sue began, only to get cut off mid-word by Willow, the realization that she still couldn’t understand them answering the ‘why’ question. The white cat’s reaction was the first instance of a genuine emotion Sue’d sensed from them, even if it was just a brief blip of annoyance.
Much like before, they unfurled their ear and put their psychics to use again before trying again. “Now.”
“Oh?”
“Repeat,” they insisted, voice somehow even flatter than before.
Sue blinked. “Oh. I—uh, I was scared, had no idea where I even was, and needed some answers badly. And didn’t realize how much it’d hurt...”
Willow chuckled, “Ha! All’s well Sue, I was just explaining how I went about patching you up to Northeast. Anyhow—after that incident, the wound reopened underneath the bandages and bled badly. First, I tore the old dressing off to avoid the risk of infection, then applied the first Healing Pulse to stem the bleeding, wiped the skin clean with water and white spirit, and got to the salves. Covered the wound up with a couple layers of antiseptic dressing, applied the Tanga salve around the edges, and rubbed Sitrus salve in further around.”
“No follow-up pulses?” the freshly named Northeast asked.
“No, no,” Willow shook their head, “Sue was already so tired she’d fallen asleep by that point. Pushing any further would’ve been more risk than was appropriate, Northeast, especially with immediate danger gone.”
Without skipping a beat, the cat nodded again and asked, “How many dressing layers?”
“I reckon I went with three there? I decided it’d be for the best if it was thick enough to sit undisturbed for a few days. Then, since we had no way of communicating with Sue at that point, I baby-proofed it with a thin cast on top of the bandage... no offense, Sue.”
Pffffft, baby-proofed. More like dumbass-proofed.
To Willow’s relief, Sue’s response was only an amused giggle as opposed to anything more stern. She was in absolutely no spot to be judging the medic, considering how annoying of a patient she must’ve been. Her reaction was mirrored by the chubby medic themselves and the living bouquet alike, Northeast standing silently off to the side throughout. Even Joy had chimed in with a raspy, harsh chuckle of her own, though largely because everyone else was laughing.
“That is curious, however~,” the flower-person chimed in, their voice making Sue think of a rich widow in her fifties, slow and dignified. “A Forest Guardian making it to adulthood without as much as Telepathy? I faintly remember Solstice mentioning that. I found it unbelievable, and yet here you are. Is it a result of… a developmental condition?” they asked with all the gentleness of a freight train.
As Sue sat there, torn between freaking out at being seen through and being unsure if she should be offended at the other medic’s words, Willow chimed in. “We think it may very well be something like that, Orchid. Or at least was, since she’s been able to start slowly picking psychic skills up recently. An exceptionally rare and unfortunate case either way—best not dwell too much on it and just appreciate her being safely with us.”
Sue let out a sigh of relief at their diversion, the tension leaving her body by the moment—at least, until Northeast took her turn at poking holes in Willow’s answer. “So she’s been capable of psychics for some unknown amount of time before now and only started acting on that here? That sounds incredibly unlikely.”
“What’s so difficult to believe, Northeast?” Willow asked, unbothered on the surface.
“At the very least, she would’ve had to notice her inner sense waking up at some point prior to her arrival in Moonview.” Sue expected to see the white cat staring at her with distrust after her comments, but she only saw the same flat expression, befitting the unerringly monotone voice.
I’ve no idea what her intent is, and I don’t like that fact one bit.
“I’d say we drop that subject,” the chubby medic sidestepped the subject, voice more serious than before. “I don’t think Sue wants to be interrogated and have her version of events called into doubt right now, or ever really.”
“I’m not—” Northeast began, before being cut off by an unexpected, relief-inducing voice.
“Oh dear, what did you do to get the medics’ attention now, Sue~?”
Sue felt her anxiety wane at Solstice’s words, shuddering at her earlier tension. The other Forest Guardian was looking so, so much better than when she last remembered seeing her, though she was still far from perfectly alright. The puffiness underneath her eyes, the warble of her voice—the tells were there, but Solstice was actively trying to be alright despite them, and that’s all that mattered, making Sue smile.
“Hardly anything but being a jumpy student and a useful case study in application of dressings, worry not dear Solstice,” Orchid chuckled at the situation, only barely stopping herself from going on.
Willow chuckled, “Ha! You’re right, though, it’d be for the best if we went from chatter to a bit of practice. Now to fetch—” they paused abruptly after turning towards the stone blackboard, their upbeat tone suddenly replaced with confusion. They concentrated on the grass in front of their impromptu canvas, clearly scanning for something, but couldn’t find it. “Huh. I could’ve sworn I brought some rags to practice applying bandages with. Reckon we’ll just have to grab some from my clinic instead, if you could follow me~.”
Orchid and Northeast went along without complaints, and despite Sue expecting the latter to suddenly look over her shoulder and shoot a suspicious glare, that didn’t end up happening. Her attention couldn’t linger on them for much longer with Solstice present, though, making her drop the crutch off to the side and pull the other Forest Guardian into a tight side hug, her front spike pressing into her mentor’s chest.
Sue felt Solstice’s heartbeat reverberate through it, making for a surprisingly calming sensation. The Mayor had to put in an active effort to avoid breaking into tears for Duck-knows-how long within the last twenty-four hours, thankfully stabilizing herself with a few deeper breaths. “I’m okay Sue, I’m okay, don’t worry.”
“A-are you sure?” Sue asked. “I can—”
Solstice shook her head. “I’m absolutely sure. We’ve both had more than enough tears yesterday to last us a full Moon, let us focus on here and now instead, alright?”
While Solstice might have been successful in avoiding any more tears, Sue wasn’t, sniffing as she let go of her more-than-mentor-it-felt-at-times before wiping her eyes and redirecting her attention to the toothy girl on her other side instead, holding her tight. “Mhm. Okay.”
“Wonderful,” the older Forest Guardian beamed. “Sundance is off to grab us all snacks, and in the meantime... someone would like you to meet him, Sue.”
Sue palpably felt Solstice’s tone turn somber, making her gulp. She had no idea whose presence could’ve prompted such a mood shift, speeding up her heartbeat. “O-oh. Who is he?”
“His name is Dewdrop; he’s one of our weavers. We’ve got to thank him for many of our antiseptic dressings. Some of which you’re wearing right now if I’m not mistaken~,” Solstice teased, only making everything more confusing.
Of course, she’d love to thank someone who’d contributed to her recovery; why wouldn’t she want that? “That’s great! Wh-what’s wrong?”
Solstice sighed, “He’s... a deathweaver. Of the same kin as the being that had grievously injured you.”
The click of all the pieces falling into place in Sue’s mind was almost loud enough to be audible, and the gulp that followed it most definitely was. Solstice immediately pulled her student in closer to comfort her. Her touch was calming, but nowhere near enough to make Sue feel alright on its own. “O-oh, him...” she mumbled, short of breath. “I-I think I saw him earlier...”
“Yes, you have,” Solstice nodded. “He went looking around for me afterwards to help facilitate some communication between you two and let you two meet.”
Sue wasn’t sure what to think of it. “B-but, what for? He’s not the one that—”
“No, of course he’s not, but he still feels guilty. And more importantly, he doesn’t want you to be scared of him in the future, like you are right now,” Solstice chided, stopping Sue’s anxious thought process before it could wind itself up even further.
Dewdrop’s reasoning made perfect sense, making Sue feel bad for indirectly forcing someone innocent, if really, really, really scary-looking, to defend themselves because of her fear. “Oh, sorry—”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Sue. Your fear is all too understandable—that’s what made him want to intervene directly even more and help you overcome it.”
How the fuck are the beast that nearly took my life and someone so considerate the same species?!
“I-I see. That’s really nice of him,” Sue mumbled. “I... alright, I-I think I’m ready.” She was extremely uncertain of whether or not she was actually ready, but it didn’t matter—the last thing she wanted was to keep Dewdrop waiting any longer because she was being irrational.
She braced herself, shifting her gaze downwards and focusing on the ground as Solstice first hesitated, and then followed along, calling the spider over. “^Alright Dewdrop, she’s ready.^”
Sue’s heart skipped a beat at seeing the red spider first peek out, and then finally step out of the nearest alley. He was moving as slowly as he could, clearly doing anything in his power to make his appearance as non-sudden as possible.
I wish you didn’t have to do that, but… thanks.
As he approached, she got a good look at the things he wore and carried. The elaborate cap was the most eye-catching item of the bunch. The twin blue accents that ran down the length of the flaps behind his eyes downright popped out from the brown canvas and red chitin—as did the central flap, resting on top of Dewdrop’s horn and curling around it, keeping it disarmed.
The two… not-legs on top of his abdomen carried a not-legful of tassels each, their vivid yellows, oranges, and reds complimenting his appearance.
“Good afternoon Sue,” Dewdrop greeted, “I apologize our meeting is in... as tense a situation.”
Even if Sue could still hear the hisses, clicks and chitters that underlaid Dewdrop’s words, her attention was entirely focused on his calm tone and eloquent delivery, helping her keep herself calm. “H-hey, Dewdrop. I-it’s alright...”
“I know it’s not, but that’s understandable. I’m not holding it against you,” he insisted, keeping his distance.
“Thank you,” Sue mumbled. “I-I just didn’t expect to see another... of that one here.”
“Oh, I can absolutely imagine, with your first encounter with my kin being what it was. But no, we’re not all like my sibling—if anything, however, that makes what they’ve done even more monstrous.”
“Y-your sibling?” she asked, eyes going wide.
The spider shook his head. “Not in a literal way, no. Though… I suppose it is possible they were part of the same brood as I. Depressing to consider.”
One thing to have a deadbeat family member, another to be related to someone who hunts other living beings for sustenance. “I-it is, yeah. Why are—why did—”
“Why did they almost murder you while I’m here holding a rational conversation?” Dewdrop cut to the chase. Sue gulped, anxious at the wording, but that indeed was the spirit of the question. “It’s... down to choice, in the end,” the spider continued. “The awareness of Moonview has spread far into the woods, and I’m more than certain that they have heard its beck and call as much as I have.”
He paused for a moment, reminiscing, before lowering his voice. “Shelter, food, duty, and possibly even family—on the sole condition that you abandon your predatory ways, irrevocably, forever. Many call it an impossible-to-believe lie, convinced that it’s little more than a ruse to lull gullible fools in before devouring them, predator and prey species alike. Ultimately, it is their choice whether they want to trust us. For me, and many others, the choice was clear. But sadly, not for all. And as harmless to anyone but themselves as that distrust is with prey species...”
…a distrustful predator means an actively hunting predator.
Sue leaned in, finding herself feeling sorry for the spider. “That must feel horrible. Knowing what your own flesh and blood is doing out there, and feeling like it’s your fault for not convincing them.”
“Every day I think back to the last time I talked with my brood, when all of us still subsisted on wild berries,” Dewdrop continued, lost in thought. “I tried to argue with them how it would make no sense for Moonview to be a trap, how that tradeoff was worth it. All they could muster back was paranoia and outrage at their ‘identity’ as predator species even being called into a question. Constant insistence that hunting was our purpose, that was what we were adapted for. And—” his segmented body shuddered, mandibles unnervingly clicking together, “—it’s not untrue. That is what we are adapted to, after all. But to put that as the ceiling of what we are capable of, to insist there’s nothing more one would ever want out of life, that murder for sustenance is the most supreme of callings... I can’t put myself in that mindset. I never could.”
Silence lingered for a long while as everyone gathered composed their thoughts. Dewdrop eventually broke the lull with an awkward shuffle, reaching his forelegs to rub under his eyes, one at a time. “I apologize. I went overboard there, haven’t I?”
The two Forest Guardians’ chuckles helped in diffusing the tension. Sue picked up the slack again as more of her nerves faded away—“It’s alright, Dewdrop. I can only imagine the weight th-that comes with that sort of awareness of what you c-could have done.”
“It’s heavy, indeed,” he sighed. “Thankfully, I have others here to talk it through with, others that know that kind of pain.”
“You can add ‘emotional support’ to the list of what our village offers~,” Solstice smirked.
The arachnid laughter that came out of Dewdrop in response was a bizarre sound. Hundreds of repeated clicks, almost sounding like the world’s quietest machine gun going off. “Indeed, Solstice, indeed. Well, I’m glad you gave me a chance Sue, a-and I hope I won’t be as scary of a sight going forward.”
If not for her injury and having no idea if that would even work on an anatomical level, Sue was of half a mind to give Dewdrop a big hug, empathy and a bit of pity replacing her fear. Any spider this size was inherently unnerving, but at least he’d likely not make her panic again by his mere presence. “You really won’t be, and you’re welcome, Dewdrop. I-I—thank you for this. It was illuminating, and I’m really sorry f-for things being the way they are.”
The spider nodded. “Not something either of us can change, sadly. All we can do is keep this place growing and hope we sway more hearts in the future. Speaking of, how far did you all push the other deathweavers back after Sue’s attack, Solstice?”
Wait, what?
“A day’s march, more or less.”
“Pushed back?” Sue asked, alarmed.
Solstice took it upon herself to explain. “Between offering predators a place to stay and protecting everyone already living here and others nearby, one of those is more important in the end. A whole brood living nearby is a grave danger for all of us, no matter how much some of its members could be persuaded if given enough time. And so it has to be dispersed, burned down, and its members pushed back, far, far from here, so that they’re no longer a threat.”
“And once the time comes, the eggs they had left behind will hatch here, and the little ones will be welcomed into a place where they don’t have to hunt,” Dewdrop followed up. His words made Sue second guess herself, uncertainty growing on her face as she worried about the moral implications of what she’d just heard described. Keeping their territory safe was one thing, but kidnapping the eggs left behind?
Though... not like the other answer felt any better. If they were pushed back together with the rest of their kin, the unhatched spiders would instead grow into yet more threats, not just to Moonview specifically, but also to any other prey species around them...
A moral nightmare with no answer.
“Indeed, Sue, there isn’t a ‘correct’ answer to what we ought to do in a situation like that,” Solstice nodded, patting her shoulder. “We can only hope that offering the unhatched ones a life of safety is the right call, even if it comes at the price of taking them away from their brood. And that, if we are in the wrong, then whatever awaits us on The Gate’s other side forgives us for our sins.”
“I don’t doubt one bit that this course of action is the right one for my kin, at least,” Dewdrop reassured. “Though yes, it’s certainly a case-by-case kind of dilemma. Regardless of whatever judgment awaits us, that’s way off in the future, and now I really should get to catching up on green silk.”
Sue blinked, confused. “...wh-why green specifically?”
“Some prankster thought it’d be funny to steal half the bundle I kept on hand and I only realized partway through weaving. Oh well, I just need to grab more green dye and get back to spinning.”
“There’s no rush Dewdrop. Take your time; the tassels aren’t a priority,” the Mayor reminded.
The spider murmured, “With the rate at which Root has been putting up shrines lately, you’d think he would eventually start wearing one on his back.”
Solstice sighed at the mention of the other Elder in a very familiar and fed up way. She grumbled into her hand and rubbed her eyes as she briefly switched to telepathy. “^I’ll have to bring it up with him, I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. Take care Dewdrop, and may She keep your rest peaceful.^”
“See you both around,” the spider smiled. “Oh, and you too, little one, I almost didn’t notice you.”
The discussion had left Joy feeling pensive, though that didn’t last long after Sue got back to the girl with all the affection she was owed, a gentle tickle on her front leaving her whole body squirming and hands flailing. The lovely, gasping laughter was mixed with notably less lovely clinking of metal, though the result still sounded really nice.
Just because it was Joy.
The group perked up at Sundance’s voice—“Took you all so long these went cold in the meantime.” She was holding three portions of candied, syrup-covered fruits on sticks in her paw, one of them shorter and with only a slice instead of an entire fruit.
“Well, if there’s anyone around to help offset that grievous injustice, it’d be you, Sunny~. Though, agreed, rather heavy stuff for what was supposed to be our opportunity to relax. Let’s go make the most of what remains of the day, eh Sue?” Solstice nudged. Her nickname had Sundance roll her eyes as she summoned a small flame to warm the treats up while the group got going. Seeing open fire left Joy much more skittish, the toothy girl opting to keep to Sue’s side this time.
“Yeah, something more relaxing would be nice. Do you have any place in particular in mind?” Sue asked.
Solstice shook her head. “Hmm, no, I don’t—”
“Yes, I do~,” the vixen smirked, leaving the two Forest Guardians blinking in surprise. Their obvious curiosity went unanswered as the Fire-type led them on, and while Solstice soon pieced together where her friend was taking them, if not necessarily why, Sue… was just happy to be around.
It’s getting quite late already. Wonder if—
Before Sue could pay too much attention to the passage of time, a sight in the nearby alley caught her attention instead, making her stop, with others following soon after. Sundance was of half a mind to tease her there and then, but ultimately kept quiet, just watching along with the rest of the group.
Snowdrop was busy moving several rectangular baskets of grain and berries next to a large hole in the ground, lined with something that Sue couldn’t quite pick up on from a distance. Her routine was straightforward—assemble a stack of three baskets, do… something to them that resulted in them getting frozen, and lower the freshly chilled foodstuffs down the hole. The frosty performer kept going like this until she’d gotten through all the baskets on hand, closing the most unintuitively operated freezer shortly after.
While she took a moment to gather her breath and admire her handiwork, the duo from before ran up to her, their presence throwing a spanner in Sue’s mood. She had nothing against the mostly green snake, but hadn’t gotten any friendlier towards the pink bat-scorpion.
Why must you of all people be fucking everywhere.
The pair of what were presumably children didn’t arrive empty-handed, either, carrying a clay pot of a dark, fragrant liquid with their combined strength. Sue wasn’t the biggest fan of cherries, but couldn’t deny them smelling nice, watching closely to see what Snowdrop would do with an entire jar of cherry juice. The thoughts of food reminded her of the treats Sundance had brought with herself, the not-apple on a stick getting bit into as she kept watching.
Sue didn’t know what exactly the two kids had asked the icy performer, but she seemed to know exactly what to do, soon figuring out the right way of fulfilling their request—namely, the flashiest way. Snowdrop gripped the pot before flinging its contents upwards with her dainty hands, and right as the glob of the dark pink juice reached its apex, she snap-froze it with a single powerful gust of chilling wind from her mouth.
She didn’t wait before scooping the potful of ice cream out of the air, getting almost all of it, the handful of specks that had landed on her face and crystal horns making both the kids and Sue giggle. Before the performer could join them in their amusement, though, she finally noticed Sue’s group, the realization combusting her glee into a fluster bright enough to melt the frozen juice on her head and make her scurry out of sight.
“Awwwwh~. She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Solstice giggled.
Sue nodded, giddy. “Yeah! A-almost hard to believe she’d put as scary of a show back at the stage as she did.”
“A ghost of many talents you could even say~! Gods, if she’d been here twenty years ago when I first came here, then... hah, no telling who would my heart be with nowadays,” the Mayor fantasized, making Sue blink in surprise as they all got going again. Joy was the only one left unsatisfied at the Snowdrop’s spectacle—mostly because of her not getting any of the freshly made ice cream in the end.
“I-I definitely see what you m-mean, heh...” her pupil chuckled weakly.
“Oh, now you do~?”
Sue threatened to catch on fire following Solstice’s comment, looking away with a bright fluster as the two women laughed among themselves. Sundance wanted to double down on the tease in particular, but ultimately gave Sue mercy—she’d be even more flustered soon enough, after all. “Yeah, Snowdrop’s a treasure. However, she’s always struck me as wanting something more permanent.”
“D-don’t we all?”
Sundance looked at her student with a light smirk and a raised eyebrow, a chuckle seeping into her words. “I don’t~. Never really felt that romantic pull.”
“Oh,” Sue blinked. “B-but uh, what about Spark?”
“A very happy accident, but an accident all the same.”
Sue struggled to gather words at the vixen’s explanation, much to the other two’s continued amusement. A big, awkward question crept up into the forefront of her mind afterwards, one she’d avoided bringing up earlier because of the implied tragedy. “B-but, with whom?”
As the once-human had feared, the question had Sundance pause. Though, as opposed to her worry that the vixen would suddenly break out into tears, she instead began to count on her fingers, eyes darting off into the sky as she enumerated the possibilities. “There are... seven candidates in total, I think. Two of them are dead, two more don’t live here, and none of them ever spoke up or came forward even after Spark had hatched. As far as I’m concerned, she’s mine and mine alone.”
…
…
Oh.
Sue’s frizzed brain failed in composing any response to Sundance’s revelation, the cacophony of ‘how’s and ‘uh’s continuing to bounce around in her skull for a good while afterwards. It took their destination coming in sight for Sue’s thought process to finally snap itself out of the embarrassed deadlock it ended up spiraling into.
The nearby grove of fruit-bearing trees was right beside a house-sized patch of flowering plants, a handful of berry bushes, and what looked to be tomato plants being supported on an elaborate array of wooden scaffolding. The messiness continued further into the farmland with dozens of species of plants interwoven in chaotic patterns that nonetheless had to have some logic to them.
As sizable as Moonview’s breadbasket was, it still felt like way too little to feed what had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of beings, no matter how nourishing each individual berry was—not if harvested annually, at least.
A loud, ethereal whistle yanked her attention whole, dragging her away from the agricultural conundrum. All she’d made of the sound’s source was a dark brown lower half with an orange body sprouting from it, waving at someone. She turned to look at who they were waving at—but then, she felt a familiar, giddy sensation and caught a whiff of the pleasant aroma from before. Before she could even turn around, an excited, whistled message had reached her mind, accompanied by a couple of leafy pats on her shoulder—
“Want another fruit?”