Thankfully for Sue’s strained everything, Daystar didn’t string her along for very long.

She might have known all of nothing about agriculture, but liked to think she had a relatively decent visual memory. Enough to remember the unusually colored bark of a couple of fruit trees back at Moonview’s farm, and realize that it was a match for the small grove they had just walked into.

Her stomach would definitely not say no to some lunch later on.

Or now.

The problem of sitting down with a crutch was one Sue was acutely familiar with—and one that, despite all her struggling, she hadn’t found a better answer for than having someone else lift her whole body, be it with their arms or mind. Daystar’s solution to that conundrum wasn’t groundbreaking by any stretch of the imagination, but it got the job done all the same.

The silver biped squatted to grab the lower part of the mobility tool with her clawed hand, lifted it up from the ground, and began to rotate it slowly in her unwavering grasp. The point Sue was supporting herself on was steadily lowered, until all it took to sit down was just letting her butt fall down a couple of inches.

With how lanky Daystar’s build was, Sue didn’t expect her to be on the ‘could snap her like a twig’ level of physical strength, certainly not with other extraordinarily strong creatures she’d seen so far at least looking ripped. But no, she didn’t even need that here, apparently.

Muscles are just for decoration, who could’ve known?

“Thank you,” Sue sighed in relief as soon as she’d sat down.

Her grateful tone might’ve been successfully conveyed, but Daystar wasn’t focused on that, her sharp claws rhythmically tapping against each other as she pondered on something. Uncertain, determined, puzzled, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been too bad. The realization helped Sue calm down after the tense exchange at the clearing, especially when combined with Pollux and his small wolf friend, Howl, sitting down beside her.

Now just to link up with Daystar and ask what she’d been wracking her brains about. Close eyes, suppress emotions, reach—

“KYAH!” a harsh snarl cut Sue off before she could get started. She opened her eyes and froze in fear at seeing Daystar’s three dagger-like claws inches away from her, only managing to force out the weakest of whimpers in response. Daystar’s expression and emotions might've been much closer to slight irritation than the bestial fury her gesture had implied, but Sue was too terrified to notice.

No telepathy then, a-alright...

Even if her host’s mental state never went beyond annoyance and quickly receded from even that, the wordless threat still left Sue shaken, not daring to even twitch as she sat in place. Her heart hammered in her ears as her eyes drilled a hole in the forest floor; what felt like a near death experience dulling out any external stimuli. It took a while for her mind to even start unwinding from that sight. She wasn’t sure if she had actually been threatened, but it was hard to think rationally with something sharp enough to slice clean through any of the surrounding trees being so nonchalantly pointed at her.

*tap-tap*

The pings of Daystar tapping her claws on her prosthesis’ metal hook snapped Sue back to reality. Her gaze jumped upwards, only to near-instantly lock with Daystar’s expression of… concern. It was reassuring if nothing else—she supposed—while also letting her spot the uneven edge of the large… feather that sprouted from where her host’s left ear ought to have been, as if it’d been crudely cut off at around eye level. Sue mumbled, “I-I’m okay, I think,” pushing through her uncertainty to not aggravate Daystar any further.

With the Forest Guardian’s focus secured, the silver biped nodded, took a deep breath, looked straight at her... and pointed her clawed arm at herself, before speaking slower than Sue had seen anyone do before. “~Aya.~”

The sounds weren’t an exact match for anything Sue recognized, but what they were was clear and enunciated. Which, combined with it being a single word and having an accompanying gesture, made it very clear what all this was supposed to accomplish.

The realization lit up a fire inside Sue, bright enough for her to shake off her previous fright and switch gears to absorbing as much of the impromptu language lesson as she could. Sue nodded and shakily reached her hand to point at Daystar, attempting to repeat the sound as close as she could. “Aya.”

An immediate headshake in return—she got something wrong, but what exactly was impossible to tell. Thankfully, Sue wouldn’t be left in darkness for long. Soon after, Daystar once more pointed at herself, accentuating the gesture with tapping the golden gem on her front with the tip of one of her claws, and repeated the word, “~Aya.~”

Alright, so this wasn’t her name, which left the other main possibility. This time, Sue pointed at herself, slightly less uncertain than before, and gave it another go—“Aya.”

Slow nod and a faint smirk. Not ‘Daystar’, but something much more important.

‘I’. Simple enough.

Or at least, that’s how it initially seemed.

“~Aya,~” Daystar repeated the same gesture.

Sue blinked in confusion, unsure of what was going on. Repetition is how one learns, but she wouldn’t have thought that would extend to demonstrations. It wasn’t a big deal, though—she didn’t mind making sure Daystar’s lesson stuck with her.

She cleared her throat, pointed at herself, said “Aya,” …and in return received a slow shake of Daystar’s head.

...aaaaand back to being completely lost.

The Forest Guardian stared blankly at her host, having not a shred of idea of why she went from doing well to failing despite simply repeating her previous action. There was no way something as fundamental as what she assumed to be pronouns would just change on a whim like that, right? With how weird this world had been so far, she knew she had absolutely no guarantee of that being the case, but her hope remained all the same.

Foolishly, perhaps.

For a while, both Sue and Daystar sat wordlessly, about as confused as each other, each missing different pieces of critical knowledge that would’ve let them piece the situation together. A couple more attempts yielded largely the same results. No matter how well her host enunciated her words and no matter how closely Sue had tried matching their pronunciation, she always fell short, making no progress whatsoever.

Right as the fire in Sue’s mind was about to die completely, extinguished by that demoralizing realization, Pollux stepped in to help. He contributed to the conversation in a very direct but unintuitive way, howling, “~Aaaaaaawooooooooaaaaa!~”

It clarified exactly nothing for Sue, but gave Daystar an immediate idea, the click inside her head almost palpable for the Forest Guardian. Instead of repeating the same word yet again, she held her clawed paw limply above and beside her, before speaking once more, drawing out just that very first sound. “~Aaaaaaaaaaaaa.~”

Alright, got pointed at with the hook; guess I should try that again.

Sue held her hand tall, any remnants of self-consciousness over grabbing attention forcibly evaporating under the sudden pressure. It was time to make some noise. “Aaaaaaaaaaa?” she vocalized, wordlessly begging any passing deities not to laugh at her too hard.

Daystar flicked her claws at hearing Sue’s response, making her blink before mimicking her most recent attempt. “~Aaaaaaaaááá.~” she spoke, flicking her paw even further up towards the end, as if it was raising in tune with her—her pitch.

Sue’s mind grasped at that idea and wouldn’t let go, preparing to deliver the world’s most unenthused scream once more. This time, though, she put in the effort to modulate her tone to whatever extent her voice box allowed, down and up and down, while moving her hand along to match. She proclaimed, “Ààààǎáááááâààà,” feeling squirmy at feeling her voicebox move along with her antics.

In return, she received an immediate and cheerful reaction, delivered with a wide and only-slightly-intimidating grin.

Progress!

Without wasting another moment to let the wave of enthusiasm subside, Daystar went back to her previous idea, this time using the hook to point at herself as her other hand visually conveyed the change in intonation. “~Àýa,~” she instructed—down, up, even.

...

Oh no.

The revelation of the local language turning out to be a tonal one undid a lot of the excitement Sue had built up about her breakthrough. She tried to push through that knee-jerk reaction as much as she could, though, redoubling her efforts towards being as receptive as possible. It was going to be unlike the one language she knew, but hardly unique—in this particular regard, at least.

A sixth of the planet uses tones; I can figure them out, too. Even if it’ll take pushing my monolingual British ass into uncharted territory.

By the time Sue had processed that entire upsetting train of thought, her teacher had grown somewhat concerned, the reason not hard to guess. With a firm nod, she focused on the lesson again, firmly nodding and raising her hand again to give the task her best attempt, and spoke, “Aaaààǎýá?”

A ‘so-so’ gesture wasn’t perfect, but it was still progress. It pushed her to try again and again, the act of mixing pitch with sounds unlike anything she’d ever done previously. Each attempt got closer, Daystar’s nods growing more exaggerated until she was satisfied with Sue’s efforts, gesturing for her to stop. As warm of a smile as the gray biped looked capable of, a brief comment—and then, she pointed at the assembled kids, one at a time, her instruction becoming clear afterwards.

“~Àwóóa!~” Pollux howled.

“~Àààwúúúúúaaa!~” Howl polluxed.

“~Càààééa!~” Rainfall cawed.

Sue paid close attention to each of the kids’ vocalizations, and especially to their pitch. They were clearly trying to pronounce the same word, with vastly different outcomes—and Daystar didn’t object to any of them, despite their differences.

Was there just no consistency with sounds in this language? Sue figured not everyone could make the same sounds, and that some villagers couldn’t even get close, but it was still unclear how this language accommodated for that—beyond the weirdly permissive demonstration she’d just heard, that is.

Maybe it meant the locals would be willing to cut her some slack with her pronunciation? That’d be nice.

Daystar proceeded to teach a few other basic words using similar charades; Sue left to just think about them really hard in lieu of any paper to write the secrets of the universe down upon.

“~Kò~” meant ‘you’, though judging by the little ones’ contribution, “~Gèè~” and even “~Pỳù~” were also acceptable pronunciations, somehow. “~Ỳùn~” and “~Ky̌á~” meant ‘yes’ and ‘no’ respectively. Hardly useful on their own with her head gestures translating over, but no less appreciated.

Sue’s pronunciation remained sketchy, despite her best attempts. Asking questions aside, she’d almost never consciously manipulated her pitch like that before, and she could physically feel the effort that task took deep in her throat. Not painful, not by any stretch, but definitely uncomfortable and something she’d have to get acclimated to gradually.

She almost grasped the couple of words that came afterwards, but the devil was in the details, deep down and ever annoying.

Both “~Àkô~” and “~Àsô~” seemed to be pronouns in the vein of ‘he’ or ‘she’, but didn’t map exactly to any distinction she could think of. For a moment, she thought the difference was the gender one she was familiar with, but it wasn’t the case, as evidenced by both herself and Pollux being referred to with the former of the two unknown words. This was the first lesson, these were the absolute basics, and she was just not getting something important, the natural 1 on her comprehension roll making her withdraw a bit.

The three night kin and a... fellow inhabitant of Newmoon discussed the topic for a while, the dark bird’s eventual contribution sparking another revelation inside Daystar.

It was time for some vandalism.

With Sue’s attention secured, Daystar carved a roughly circular shape on the bark of the fruit tree standing beside her. The gesture looked simultaneously careful in its execution while also being effortless—the wood might as well have been butter for her razor-sharp claws. She then pointed at herself, then at Sue, and finally, at the fresh drawing, saying, “~Àýa, kò, àsô.~”

I, you, it.

The exercise explained little on its own, but Sue repeated it all the same. A couple nods of confirmation later, her teacher proceeded to the next step of this makeshift demonstration, and drew a face inside the circle. Two vertical lines for eyes, one horizontal line for mouth.

It made for a great ‘detached’ emote, but before Sue could settle on making ‘add Daystar’s exact scribbled emoji to the Unicode standard’ her life’s goal after she got back home, Daystar continued. She pointed at herself, then at Sue, and once more at the now-edited drawing, saying, “~Àýa, kò, àkô.~”

I, you, ...they?

Sue blinked at that thought, going ahead with her own repetition before lingering on it afterwards, wanting to confirm her hunch. Pollux got “~Àkô~”, her crutch got “~Àsô~”—two out of two.

She felt her brain expand in real time as he continued to experiment with objects around her, her hypothesis turning out to be almost correct. Annoyingly, the ‘almost’ part wasn’t anything she could logically figure out—there seemed to be few exceptions to her rule, but those aside, everything fit the distinction she had in mind to a tee. No clue whatsoever why specifically trees and the sky got ‘they’ and not ‘it’, but considering the extent of her learning today, it was at most a tiny inconvenience.

Once she was back at Willow’s clinic, she would have to ask for more paper and actually write her knowledge down, before everything she’d just learned escaped through whatever orifice it deemed appropriate.

At last, after what felt like an hour of making dumb noises and miming, they had gotten through one half of the pronouns table. And if Daystar ordering the two canines to split up between taking seats beside herself and Sue was any sign, plural pronouns would be next. A lot to learn without a lot of gray matter on which to store that knowledge, but Sue was as ready as ever, patting her legs rhythmically to pump herself up for the next bit of studying—and spotting someone in the nearby treeline.

Snowdrop!?

The brief glimpse of the icy, floating performer from a few days prior derailed Sue’s entire train of thought, her shock catching everyone else’s attention. To her relief, she wouldn’t end up as a madwoman that saw things that weren’t there. Daystar caught a glimpse, too, calling towards the tree Snowdrop had tried to hide behind, her voice full of... concern.

Guess these two must know each other?

It took a bit more pleading, but eventually the star of Moonview’s show finally presented herself again, her worry and embarrassment becoming clearer by the moment. Not worry about Sue—not just worry about Sue, at least—but also something else, something much more self-focused. Almost like she was... afraid of Sue, somehow. The Forest Guardian had no idea what to think; her timid wave returned shortly after.

Daystar wasted no time intervening further, beckoning the cold one over as they spoke. Snowdrop eventually settled down on the ground next to them all, trying to look at literally everything around except for Sue. It didn’t feel malicious as much as embarrassed, but that didn’t help much, leaving Sue feeling immensely uneasy as the conversation shifted around her.

To little surprise, her attempt at fishing even just the handful of words she knew out of the broth of the group’s chatter was an almost total failure. A couple “~Àýa~” or ‘I’, one or two “~Ky̌á~” or ‘no’, nowhere near enough to give her even the smallest inkling of an idea about the discussion’s topic.

Even her sixth sense provided more information than that, though it required very heavy interpretation to get anything out of. Intense shame whenever Snowdrop as much as glanced in her direction, mutual concern between her and Daystar, and the latter clearly pleading something once or twice. No answers, but just enough to leave Sue profoundly uncomfortable throughout.

Swell.

Sixth sense or not, the discomfort in Sue’s body language wasn’t all too difficult to spot for others. Pollux took it upon himself to comfort her by scrambling onto her lap. His effort was appreciated as always, though its efficacy was... questionable. Daystar had her own ideas, however. A quick comment towards Rainfall made her stop trying to get cozy with Snowdrop as she flew off further into the small orchard, the trip’s purpose self-evident.

Hunger wasn’t helping their thought process any. Sating it wouldn’t hurt—

“^Hi, Sue!^” a squeaky, girly voice echoed in Sue’s mind, making her jump as she feverishly looked around for its origin—only to find Thistle standing beside her, to whatever extent that verb was even appropriate for her anatomy.

She’d only seen the small psychic a couple times, and the few days hadn’t dulled her astonished reactions at her surreal appearance one bit—especially with the entirety of Thistle’s locomotion being left to a couple of blue extensions on the back of her… hair. Sue greeted her back, sighing in relief, “H-hey, Thistle.”

Thistle might’ve looked like a costume design gone terribly wrong, but Sue couldn’t deny being very grateful towards her for showing up. The return of the language barrier and the uncomfortable, tense scene that followed chafed her worry-happy mind too much for comfort.

“^What are you doing here?^” the small psychic asked with about the same intonation as one asks a wild turtle getting stuck upside down in their garden.

“It’s—it’s a long story, Thistle. I can tell you later if you’d want, sweetie,” Daystar answered, her voice turning coherent again, bringing Sue immense relief.

The hatful of psychic wasted no time squirming up beside Sue despite not even knowing what had happened, beaming, “^Okay, Miss Daystar! Hello Miss Snowdrop!^”

The frosty performer sighed back, “H-hey...” not filling Sue with any more confidence. Her confusion about the situation and inability to help were driving her mad, and she had no idea if it was even really related to her—

“^Miss Snowdrop, Miss Sue wants to know what’s wrong!^” Thistle spoke up as if nothing was amiss.

Could you ask before digging inside my head?

“^Sorry!^” the small psychic apologized, looking and sounding genuinely surprised as she looked up at Sue. “^It’s hard not to!^”

Instead of focusing further on the hatted psychic, though, Sue’s attention was firmly centered on Snowdrop, her shame stinging the inside of Sue’s heart. “I-it’s... I-I’m sorry, Sue,” Snowdrop apologized, huddling closer to Daystar.

Sue was increasingly expecting a piece of the sky to fall down and smack her in the face with each passing moment, but not even she thought that’s what Snowdrop would say when put on the spot like that. Some of her wanted to just give the icy one a figurative pass, just accept the apology even if it came from absolutely nowhere, and let Snowdrop do whatever she was here for in peace.

Some, but not all, the rest of her instead asking, “Wh-what for? You have done nothing wrong—j-just visiting a friend, right?”

Daystar chuckled at her words, Snowdrop’s cheeks burning up despite their nominal coldness as the icy one tried to withdraw into herself. The exchange would’ve been amusing in any other circumstance, but here it made everything even more confusing. “Bit more than a friend,” Daystar chuckled, holding Snowdrop closer. “Though, ultimately up to Snowy how she thinks about it all~.”

The pet name sure didn’t help with the frosty blush; the bravado she’d shown on the big stage utterly replaced with a healthy serving of fluster. It felt amusing and special to witness, but it wasn’t an answer, not by itself.

“Mnnnn... I-I’m sorry for not b-being honest about... all this, Sue,” Snowdrop mumbled, less paralyzed in embarrassment than before.

That at least made more sense to be sorry about—a whole heaping lot of sense, in fact. Sue’s attention shifted over to Daystar, giving her a raised eyebrow at the entire situation. “I’d be lying if I knew what ‘all this’ is to begin with...” she admitted.

“What is there to say~?” Daystar chuckled. “Snowy has been seeing me for a few months and we’ve been getting closer throughout. We talked a few times about relationships, and she mentioned how she sometimes feels like she has too much love in her for one person and been wondering how it would feel like to spread it. Do I get it? Not at all, but y’know—I like her, want her to be happy, and know better than to expect anyone to ever fully devote themselves towards me~.”

By the time that Daystar had finished, Snowdrop was at acute risk of melting at the intensity of the embarrassed blush going through her body. If the situation was any less serious, Sue would’ve giggled at it, but she just couldn’t, not with how much this was all clearly impacting the frosty performer.

The actual dynamic being explained was one that Sue was completely unaware of, and the idea of being pulled in as what looked like a third wheel into a pre-existing relationship felt off, but ultimately, nothing bad had happened. “H-hey, it’s alright, Snowdrop,” she insisted. “I-I promise.”

As anxious as her words were, Sue’s message was genuine and Snowdrop could tell. She finally began to relax as she hovered closer to Daystar. “Th-thank you, Sue,” she smiled weakly. “I... I s-still feel sorry for asking you s-since you w-weren’t interested in me like that, a-and as slyly as I did. It’s just... it’s scary. I l-love Daystar—”

“Love ya too, Snowy~.”

“H-heheh, but it just feels so uncertain that any of this w-will ever work out. The separation, the distance, the... lack of closeness...”

“Snowy, I told ya many times sweetie—if you aren’t feeling like getting closer in that way, then we don’t have to.” Daystar insisted, turning Snowdrop’s head to look her right in the eyes. “If you ever do, then we’ll figure something out either way~.”

“B-but what i-if I never e-end up... ‘feeling like it’?”

Daystar chuckled. “Then so be it! I love you, not anythin’ ya do, and that ain’t changing~. Won’t let any lines in sand keep us apart, either. I didn’t come all this way just to let grudges and pettiness stop me.”

Snowdrop had no words right away, instead responding with as large of a hug as her wispy arms could manage, with her partner immediately returning the gesture. Thistle’s quiet “Awwww” had most gathered chuckle and the icy performer come precipitously close to combusting again, definitely not helping the shared amusement. Before anyone could get too soggy or egg anyone else on, though, Rainfall’s return made for a good stopping point to that conversation, the black corvid delivering a handful of fist-sized blueberries for everyone to snack at.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Having one of them turned out to be a bad idea.

Not because of the flavor or anything intrinsic, it was delectable. Possibly too delectable even, Sue’s stomach immediately demanding more and to be finally sated, retripling its complaints almost as soon as she’d swallowed her first bite.

Would be rather rude to just beg for more. But if I just sit here like this, my stomach won’t shut up, so... distraction.

“D-do you come f-from far, Daystar?” Sue asked.

She was only marginally interested in the answer to that question, going back to inhaling her portion of lunch in record time as the gray biped broke into chittering laughter, eventually easing out into words. “Further than you can imagine~.”

I beg to differ.

“Feels like a lifetime ago, even thinkin’ about there. Much more mountainous than here, barren rock and harsh forests. My kind of place, my domain. I ruled it,” Daystar sighed, closing her eyes.

Sue blinked. “W-wait, you used to be royalty?”

Not the absolute brightest question she’d ever asked, sure, but she didn’t expect Daystar to treat it like a knee-slapper, shrinking in her seat as her teacher kept laughing. Even Snowdrop joined in with a couple of chuckles after a while, though that didn’t last too long before it shifted over to concern; her eyes going wide as she suddenly realized, “D-Daystar, I don’t think she knows...”

“Pfft, ya I gathered,” Daystar chuckled. “No, not any societal position of power. Think, the natural one—lowliest creatures feed on shrubbery, birds or small hunters on them. On those feed I, and on me... nothing. Almost nothing.”

As Daystar reminisced about the encounter that cost her right arm, Sue felt blood drain away from her face. What would back in her world be an innocuous admission was much more harrowing here by the knowledge of just how all-encompassing sentience and sapience were. An unknown amount of beings, personalities, hopes, and dreams, taken away from the world to prolong the existence of a single one. And she just casually admitted it, not even to any shock from the rest of the group.

“H-h-how...” Sue whispered, leaning away from Daystar.

“Strength to climb half a mountain in one go helps, so does paralytic venom and knowing how to creatively apply it—”

“N-no!” Sue cut her off, increasingly distressed. “I-I meant, h-how can you just admit to something like that!?” she demanded, scurrying backwards as her heart thrashed inside her chest.

Daystar’s reaction was... largely exasperation, her unamused grumbling so far from what Sue considered an appropriate way of approaching that whole topic that she almost felt offended on behalf of an entire ecosystem. “Easily,” the silver biped answered. “It’s how survival works, out in the wild. Moonview has its own rules, and this place inherited them. I swore an oath to the Dark Lord to follow them until the end of my days, but out there? Nobody cares. ‘Tis just existence~.”

Sue’s eyes went wide. “A-and they just let you in!?”

“What else were they to do~?” Daystar responded with her own question, the veiled threat Sue thought she could sense in it only stilling her further. “Refuse entry to every creature that had ever taken anyone else’s life, and you end up with a ton of prey trying to defend itself from dozens of predators wailing at their gates~. Permit it, and not only gain further safety from other hunters, but also effectively lower their number in the world by one. It’s the only reasonable approach,” Daystar chuckled grimly, claws lightly scraping against each other.

“Scratch most here, most in Moonview, and they’ll bleed someone else’s blood.”

The last comment plunged the gathering into stone-cold silence. Sue was the largest reason behind that, but far from the only one. Most of the little ones were similarly uncomfortable with the mentions of predation, hoping they would never have to resort to it in their lives. There was always a possibility of that, of course, and there was no shortage of harrowing tales of mortal hunger driving even the most unbreakable friendships to shatter one bite at a time, but their home was different.

Everyone hoped it was different, at least.

“And if that leaves me damned once it is my turn to stare Death in the eye...” Daystar trailed off, quiet and somber, “then so be it.”

Her words sent pangs of guilt shooting through Sue. As freaked out as she got, did Daystar ever have a choice, either? Hunting cabbage and peaches is an incomparably safer task than doing the same with living beings, however meek. Figures that if she’d could, she likely would’ve chosen it even if for pragmatic reasons—but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Maybe those “Usurper” cultists that Sundance had mentioned a few days ago had a point.

Sue bowed her head, going from terrified to regretful. “I-I’m sorry.”

Daystar chuckled at Sue’s apology, a small smirk filling her mellow expression. “‘Tis fine~. The world can be a hellish place. Regardless of what I once did, what I once was, all that matters is now—and now, I sit amongst friends and allies, having promised the Dark Lord to only use my talents for protection. I much prefer this life, that’s for—”

*whiIIIIISTLE!*

The distant sound ringing from the direction of the clearing snapped the focus of most gathered. Daystar immediately stood upright and tried to make out anything through the trees, eyes squinting. “Stuff’s happening~. High time we head over. Need help with the—”

“^I’ll help!^” Thistle cut in, immediately stepping up to help Sue regardless of whether she wanted her to or not.

The Forest Guardian got forcefully lifted off the ground and gradually adjusted until she was roughly in a standing position, with very little say on the matter throughout. Finally, the crutch was moved up to her free hand, backwards, and she was let go of all at once. It was a miracle she didn’t immediately crumple. “C-could you ask next time!?”

Thistle whimpered, “^O-oh. Sorry...^”

Sue’s question came through with more force and vitriol than she would’ve liked, though she couldn’t wholly deny them being more than earned. Before either she or the lil' psychic could dwell on that fact, though, the entire group headed back to the clearing, Snowdrop staying a fair distance behind the rest, just in case—and her worries would be justified.

Sundance was quietly rocking in her seat as Solstice shook and glanced around uncomfortably, both freezing the moment they glimpsed Sue. The latter went from surprised to alarmed in an instant, suddenly levitating a few inches off the ground with her entire body and especially eyes enveloped in a fierce, blue aura.

“Woah, woah there Solstice, cool it,” Ginger cut in, making a ‘hold up’ gesture with his paws. “From what we know, Sue came here on her own. Alastor harassed her a bit, but she’s unharmed.”

Guess I know now how Snowdrop felt back there.

The lizard’s comment thankfully defused the situation before it would escalate further, though the mention of the adult fox’s actions nearly set the older Forest Guardian off again. Once Sue had made it through the small stretch of grass that separated her from her mentors, she was immediately pulled into a tight and somewhat awkward side hug. Solstice’s spike laid flat against her front and ribs, its tip almost poking into Sue’s own red extremity as she asked, “By the Pale Lady, Sue, are you alright!? What are you doing here!? Did Alastor—”

“I’m alright Solstice, I-I promise!” Sue pleaded, not wanting to make everything even worse than she already had. “I just wanted to come and help with the talks a-and got lost...”

Sue flinched at hearing Sundance’s grumble, though it didn’t take long until her warm fluff only added further to the group embrace. “I knew I should’ve asked someone to look after you this morning,” the vixen grumbled. “How’d you get here before us?”

“^I teleported her here after her run-in with Alastor,^” Heather explained with just the tiniest bit of relief in her voice. Right as Solstice opened her mouth to speak again, the tallest psychic answered her question before she could ask it, “^She told me she was heading here, and I figured I’d help. As opposed to some places, anyone can come stop by here.^”

The callout hit true, Sue acutely feeling the mental flinch from the two women beside her. Sundance wouldn’t end up lingering on just that point for too long, though, not once she’d pulled out something from her arm fluff. “Sorry for the suspicion,” she spoke up, her words squarely unconvinced. “Admittedly, it’s hard to be as trustworthy today as I wish I could be.”

The vixen was holding a… feather. Orange, with a comically oversized shaft, and what looked like more fluff in the back, separated from the main vane. It all came together to look like an arrow—and if it sticking into the wooden bench it was flicked onto was anything to go by, it might have very well been exactly that.

“Not with warning shots being fired right at our feet,” Sundance continued, eyes narrowing slightly.

Ginger’s immediate reaction was… exasperation, the technicolor lizard grumbling as he massaged a spot immediately below the bottom of his crest with a drawn-out groan. Once that was done, he called out again, to a very concrete suspect this time. “Juniper! I know you’re here! Just show yourself and be an adult—”

The lizard didn’t even have to finish his sentence for his wish to be granted.

A green and brown blur swooped from a nearby branch in an instant, landing silently between their incidental party and the few buildings Newmoon had to show for itself. As they rose from their crouched pose, the very first thing Sue noticed were their piercing, red eyes. Far, far from a rare trait in this world, she knew that well, but these were seething with malice, freezing her on the spot as they glared straight through her, her sixth sense corroborating the findings.

The greens and browns she’d glimpsed earlier came together to form a leafy hood and large wings, respectively, with the underlying avian body white. The more Sue looked, the more they reminded her of an owl of some sort, and it was a similarity that varied wildly in intimidation factor depending on just how pissed the subject in question was at the viewer. Furious owls their usual size didn’t sound like a fun time.

Ones taller than her felt like a murder in waiting.

“Care to explain that one, Juniper?” Ginger sighed, pointing at the feather arrow now sticking out of the bench.

The owl didn’t spare either him or it even the slightest amount of attention, though, their glare shifting to Solstice as they spoke, “How dare you show yourself here.” Juniper’s voice was piercing, every sound dripping with poorly contained contempt.

“I believe we’re here to discuss exactly that, Juni, so how about you take a timeout and let the adults do the talking~?” Daystar asked mockingly, her tone conveying several eye rolls in a single sentence.

Despite the intensity of the owl’s animosity, it seemed to be unshared amongst the rest of the village.

Daystar’s callout redirected Juniper’s glare onto the gray biped as everyone finished gathering. The purple scorpion completed what she’d seen of Newmoon so far, staring at the two recent arrivals with suspicion from beside Ginger. As she made her way over, though, Sue felt a couple pats on her shoulder, the pointing gesture that followed conveying Sundance’s instructions to Sue wordlessly.

In most other circumstances, she would’ve preferred to stay with them, try to help however she could, how she had initially set out to do... but with the awareness of just how much she’d potentially already messed up, she didn’t have it in her to oppose being told to sit this one out on the sidelines.

Pollux and most of the other little ones immediately scampering over to her the moment she’d sat down helped, too.

“Well! S’pose we can get it all started, eh?” Ginger chuckled, seemingly immune to the creeping tension of the scene as he tried to return to his usual laid back self. “So—afternoon Solstice, Sundance. Your, eh... friend? Told us about your arrival ahead of time, and its purpose in broad strokes, but won’t hurt to put it in your own words.”

Solstice closed her eyes and nodded, stepping forward half a step before speaking out, her voice dryer than Sue had ever heard it before. “Greetings... everyone. Our intent is to undo your exile and welcome you back in Moonview in whichever way you see appropriate.”

“Been a while,” Daystar chuckled dryly, having moved over onto the roof of one of the huts when nobody was looking.

“I know, Frostbite—”

“Daystar.”

Her tone was low and unamused, a narrow expression immediately conveying the faux pas. Even with it being an unintentional mistake, Solstice’s guilt over making it felt clear all the same. “My apologies, Daystar.”

The genuine emotion melted through Daystar’s knee-jerk hostility, the once-predator taking a deep breath before continuing. “Accepted, ‘tis fine~. Now... if what Sue said was to be taken on face value, you two are doing all this on your own?”

“Correct,” Sundance replied flatly, rolling her shoulders as if preparing for something.

The purple scorpion’s features narrowed. “Makes one doubtful of how serious this effort really is,” she added, clicking her pincers together a couple of times for emphasis.

“I can assure you Thorns, it is very serious, if way, way too late.”

Sue wasn’t used to the more fiery of her mentors being this sterile, Sundance’s usual cheer gone as her gaze moved across those gathered. It briefly focused over someone the younger Forest Guardian couldn’t make out from her vantage point, seemingly hiding behind one of the buildings, the sight making some of the vixen’s composure give way to regret.

“Then why just you two?” Thorns drilled the point in.

“Because we have to start somewhere,” Sundance answered. “Other way around, and accusations of deciding for you behind your backs would be similarly grounded, on top of making a much weaker case in front of the council.” Her words were clearly rehearsed, the vixen having expected this exact question and maintaining the full extent of her composure. That couldn’t quite be said for Solstice, the Mayor shaking a bit as she forced herself to look up at the purple scorpion.

The response left the clearing in uneasy silence, but was effective in breaking through that particular objection. Regardless of how unserious this effort had looked initially, the two had indeed meant it, and that took much longer to chew through than a knee-jerk rejection of the entire idea.

“I hope you didn’t come in expecting us all to just forget about it and pretend to go back to how things were before,” Thorns continued. The hostility in her voice was still there, if much less intense than before.

Solstice flinched in response before speaking up—“N-no, of course not. Only you know how you want to go forward from here, and what, if anything, you want from us.”

Heather raised her eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “^What can you offer, then?^” she asked, voice slightly less flat than before as her emotions conveyed a mix of interest and hesitancy in approximately equal measure.

“Food, water, labor, agricultural supplies, building materials, textiles, knowledge, medical supplies. Being welcomed back home. Or, if you’d prefer, being left alone,” Solstice listed, her words also clearly rehearsed. Though, with them giving her enough confidence to look night kin in the eye again, nobody could really mind.

“We don’t need anything from you,” Juniper spat out. If there had been any more spite in her words, it would’ve overflowed her beak and dripped down her chin.

“Says who?” Thorns grumbled.

“Won’t say no to a gift or three,” Ginger chuckled, shooting the two diplomats a playful smirk.

“Speak for yourself, birdbrain~,” Daystar teased, any respect for the owl long since gone.

Hostile as Juniper was, though, hers thankfully wasn’t the commonly held viewpoint, making Sue lean forward in her seat as she listened to the talks. Just like with Spark before, her hand immediately shifted to autopilot the moment the Pollux settled in on her lap. His fur tingled in an almost ticklish way, the odd sensations uplifting Sue that bit more.

As much relief as Pollux was providing, though, it was offset by the seething fury Sue felt growing inside Juniper. The tips of her wings clenched as if they were hands as her entire body shook. Despite that, she remained quiet, letting the de facto leader of the village continue.

“S’pose it won’t hurt to settle on what kind of aid we’d all want then. For myself... good lumber is hard to get around these parts, nobody can really dig deep down for stone either. These, some proper tools for us to build and expand with... maybe a bite of Poppy’s or two. Think that’s it for me, for now. Daystar?” Ginger asked, showing genuine interest, maybe even a bit of veiled excitement, in direct contrast to the owl.

“Saplings, seeds, tools to expand our little orchard with... last winter got much too close for comfort, I’d rather never repeat that again~,” Daystar chuckled, before her expression turned serious. “That aside... what has been stolen from us, our homes.”

“I am unsure what, in practical terms, do you mean by ‘your homes’,” Sundance responded, genuinely uncertain.

Daystar opened her mouth as if to speak a couple times, but ended up taking her time before smirking and admitting, “That’s... a good question, actually~. Hmm. Guess I’ll have to settle on having replicas built,” she laughed, bringing a gust of well-needed levity to the scene, amused at her own insufficiently thought out question.

Anything to loosen the atmosphere.

“Our homes aren’t the only thing you’ve stolen from us,” Alastor added, appearing out of thin air in the time it took Sue to blink. The fierce-looking fox was suddenly occupying a free space between the small campsite and the line of buildings. Sue could actually understand him for once, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating—the opposite, if anything. His sudden appearance made the two emissaries recoil a step back before both their expressions narrowed, some of the earlier hostility getting turned the other way.

Despite both women wanting to do less than kind things to him after hearing of his assault, that wasn’t what they were here for, taking a moment to swallow their prides before Sundance replied, “Night Father’s monument... will need repairs first, but it can be moved over, yes. As to Aurelia’s creations—”

A gesture from beside her cut Sundance off as Solstice’s tattoo’d hand grasped her metal circlet and held it forward, outstretched. The Mayor glared straight through Alastor, the mix of emotions within her turbulent enough for even Sue to sense it. Hostility for him having harmed her pupil, guilt over what had happened, triumph for finally getting over herself enough to start making things right. The emotional concoction sloshed around as she held the circlet out, finally accompanying it with a response a few moments later—“We will return all we can, and that I promise.”

Despite the simplicity of the piece of jewelry, it had more weight to those gathered than Sue couldn’t even begin to imagine, especially if Alastor’s reaction was any sign. He reeled back initially, his long muzzle split by a surprised snarl, before his eyes went wide at the sight. His distrust of Solstice was palpable even without any psychics, but despite that, he was slowly pushing through it, step by step. Eventually, his clawed arm reached out just enough to grasp the item before he retreated with his entire body, clutching the circlet close.

The exchange took most gathered aback—but not Juniper, the owl’s glare as cold and piercing as ever. And, for once, it wasn’t just Sue that was unnerved by that. “^She’s not usually this angry...^” Thistle whispered, her words sending a jolt through Sue.

A downward glance revealed the lil’ hat creature to have been pressing into her free side for the past... however long. Sue didn’t know how to react to that comment beyond feeling even more unnerved, the hand that wasn’t petting Pollux shifting gears to comfort Thistle instead.

“As for more... I believe Ginger and Daystar covered the bulk of our material needs succinctly,” Thorns added, clicking her pincers a few more times. “I know canvas, minerals, and tinctures have been lacking too, but Jasper would know more about what we need, medicine-wise. Anything in specific you’d want to add to that, Jasper? Jasper?”

Her question had those gathered start looking around in confusion, the person in question seemingly absent. Before the discussions would get interrupted for a search operation, though, the technicolor lizard took matters into his own mouth, voice flat as pavement even as it was raised. “Jasper, come on. I know you’re hiding there. Don’t make me come over and drag you out.”

The creature that had eventually slunk their way from behind the buildings was... tricky to describe. Their very broad shouldered, bipedal build made Sue briefly think of a gorilla—even the black color matched. At the same time, gorillas didn’t have massive fangs reaching down to their chin, green skin peeking out from underneath their fur, or noses and ears pointy enough to impale people on them.

Probably. I’m not a zoologist.

Beyond those elements of fantastic appearance, there was one more that Sue didn’t know how to describe. It was almost like the very shape of Jasper’s body wasn’t fully defined, some of his proportions shifting from moment to moment as if made of black fluid as opposed to solid tissue.

In almost every other context, all these details combined with a height on par with Sue’s would’ve made his appearance something straight out of a horror movie, and she couldn’t deny that they were quite spooky here too, but... much of that fear factor was dampened by them visibly shaking and staring intently at a patch of dirt to his side, as if afraid to look at what laid straight ahead.

Though it wasn’t like ‘what laid straight ahead’ was doing any better in that regard.

Solstice stared down at the ground in a similarly pathetic way, shaking in place as if slapped and heckled. Their avoidant gazes conveyed a thousand words, none of which Sue had a dictionary on hand to translate, leaving her full of second-hand unease.

Thankfully, before the moment would drag on for too long, the latest arrival finally forced himself to speak up. “Th-that sounds a-about accurate, y-yes,” he stammered. “B-bandages, herbs f-from other settlements which we can grow ourselves, a f-few ointments and tinctures. Should be enough t-to tend to any sick here...” Sue had no idea how it was possible for a voice to simultaneously sound like a low, harsh growl of a savage beast and like terrified mumbles of a teen, but, good Duck, Jasper was somehow managing that feat.

As intense as that mismatch was, Sue would fortunately be spared from dwelling on it for too long as Thorns spoke up again, “I hope this one time donation isn’t all you two had in mind.”

“No, of course not, though we’ll have to iron out the details on anything further,” Sundance replied. “At the very least, the exile would be formally undone, and those who wish to return will be able to. And, on that note, building a passage between Newmoon and Moonview. We want to honor your existence as an independent entity, with continual material support if you so desire. But, after what happened with Spark and Pollux, I will not settle for anything less than making them both feel safe in either settlement,” she insisted, her unusual stalwartness noted by those gathered.

“For what, letting your goons march on us and drive us out again when our guard is down!?” Juniper squawked, her accusations pointed, but dull.

The rest of Newmoon largely reacted with groans at her acting out once more—including, unexpectedly, Alastor. “Quieten it, Juniper,” he snarled. “I’d recommend you stop speaking over those you swore to protect.” The dark fox’s voice wasn’t quite as seething as when addressing Solstice earlier, but it was definitely up there, taking the owl aback a few paces. Miraculously, Alastor’s words seemed sufficient to finally pop Juniper’s steadily inflating fury, the turning of tension into shame making the assorted psychics breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Hmmm... continual aid, you say? What do you think, Ginger?” Thorns asked, her tone the least accusative Sue had heard yet.

The offer tossed a heaping pile of kindling for the fires of hope inside of many gathered, Ginger included. “I like the sound of that! Ain’t opposed to expanding and making this little nook more of its own thing, while remaining on speaking terms.”

“Don’t know how much I care about expansion, but any aid will be appreciated. Pfft, suppose undoing the exile helps the lil’ ones, but I sure can’t imagine anyone here choosing to go back willingly,” Daystar chuckled at her own remark, grimly amused at that whole idea.

Though… it didn’t take too long for her giggles to fade as the scene shifted into discomfort, most present knowing full well there was one person in particular that very much wanted to return. The gray biped’s expression faltered as she glanced over at the furry not-gorilla, the latter’s body language even more hunched and skittish than before. “Uh, sorry, Jasper,” she added.

The weak nods coming from the night kin in question made Sue feel sorry as she tried to remember where she’d last heard that name. It was when Sundance was explaining something to her a few days back, something about the history that resulted in the messy situation they were all taking a part in now—oh.

Figures him and Solstice can’t look at each other. There are messy break-ups, and then there’s... this.

“Yeaaaaah. And, uh, I dunno. I think I’d probably go back to Moonview if I could,” Ginger shrugged, effortlessly snatching everyone’s attention in a series of near-simultaneous “WHAT!?”s, Juniper’s addition especially loud. Sue might have stayed quiet out of respect, but... couldn’t deny being just as curious and baffled as everyone else.

The lizard’s reaction was to roll his eyes and explain, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “Not in the sense that I’d only live there, of course, I’d bounce from here to there and back. Just that I’d prefer my home be there. Better food, better safety, quite a lot of friends, never ran out of building work.”

“After everything they’d done to you!?” Juniper shouted, the intensity of the betrayed rage within making Sue and Solstice alike lean away from her.

Despite the harshness of the words and their accusatory tone, all Ginger could do was shrug and reply, his voice as calm as ever. “I mean, yeah, resentment never really stuck to me. I don’t know. Maybe that’s wrong of me. Maybe I should be so pissed off I can’t see straight and let grudges dictate my every life choice. Maybe I should dedicate my every waking hour towards making myself as angry as possible and not care about the quality of my one life in this miserable world. Maybe Death judges based on how outraged someone was during their life, I don’t fucking know. All I know is that I can’t bring myself to do or be any of these. That’s it.”

Ginger’s voice was more spirited than Sue had ever heard it—which was to say, slightly raised. As interesting as that whole philosophical subject was to consider in the abstract, nobody around was exactly pining to do so at the moment, settling on giving Ginger some variation of a weird look.

Nobody... aside from Juniper. “H-HOW CAN YOU LET THEM TEAR US APART LIKE THAT!?”

Daystar rolled her eyes. “Cool it, birdbrain~.”

“^Nobody is tearing anyone apart,^” Heather leered, words sounding forced out.

“If that’s what Ginger truly desires, it is his life, and his choice to make, not yours. Regardless of how much you, or anyone else, agree with it,” Thorns added, clearly conflicted about the subject herself.

As much as the first two comments might’ve only annoyed Juniper further, the purple scorpion’s addition… made her go quiet. Her emotions quickly cooled as if held under running water, even some of her shaking easing out as her body language shrunk. “Understood, Thorns.”

“^Don’t worry Miss Sue, I think Miss Juniper has calmed down!^” Thistle beamed.

Before Sue could chew through her reassurance, though, the purple scorpion moved the conversation forward again. “Would this be it for this discussion, then?”

“I... believe so, Thorns, yes. Unless there’s another detail that you or anyone else wish to discuss,” Solstice answered, voice calm and ever so slightly whispered, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Nothing comes to mind at the moment,” Thorns responded, similarly calm. “Ginger?”

“Same-o. Seems we’ve settled on something reasonable after all. Now, it’s your turn to convince Moonview to go along with it.”

Both Solstice and Sundance nodded firmly at that summary. This was just the easy part, and they knew it, but the success here lit up a fire of motivation inside them and most others all the same. Regardless of how nightmarish the past and its sins have been, it finally looked like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, for everyone gathered. There was a lot of understandable worry, sure, the reasonable pessimism about how well would all this work out—but now, it had to coexist with hope.

Her mentors, Daystar, Thistle, Snowdrop still hiding behind a nearby tree, even Heather to an extent, all hopeful, infectiously so.

“Well, now that the formalities are done, care for lunch?” Ginger asked, his words marking a release of tension and an end to the crucial discussion, most gathered beginning to disperse.

Unfortunately for Sue’s stomach, however, Sundance would have to decline the lizard’s offer. “I don’t think that’d be appropriate of us. Thank you for hearing us out, Ginger, we’ll be on our way.”

“Sure thing, Sundance,” the lizard winked. “Was nice to see you again, both of you. Safe travels, and... good luck with Root.”

The vixen nodded. “Thank you. Doubt we’ll persuade him specifically, but outvoting feels very likely.”

“I like the sound of that! Don’t forget your impromptu herald over there, ha!”

Ginger’s remark had the attention of the two women snap over at Sue for the first time in what felt like ages, the sight immediately relieving some of their tension. Sundance gestured for her to follow along, the once-human only now realizing just how tense even she’d gotten watching that entire exchange, having difficulty walking straight after getting up and saying their goodbyes to the little ones.

The moment she’d walked up to them, Solstice approached, earlier determination and worry fading into concern as she spoke up, “I’m so sorry that you’ve had to deal with Alastor, a-are you alright Sue?” The Mayor stopped to hold her tight once more while Sundance walked further ahead, giving the two a soft smile after turning back to face them.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, I-I promise,” Sue answered, breathless. “It was terrifying, and it hurt, but I wasn’t harmed, I think.”

“To strike someone innocent while they’re defenseless and not even who he’d held his grudge against... don’t know how I’d ever respected him,” Sundance snarled. Her comment was damning, but it was hard to deny its accuracy.

Sue nodded weakly. “P-Pollux intervened, thankfully. G-guess that’s repayment for my intervention earlier, h-heh—”

“I won’t let you take my home from me again.”

The snarled words snapped Sue’s eyes wide open, gaze jumping over to their source. Juniper held one wing vertically, its tip clutching something green as the other—

Pulled back an arrow feather.

Time slowed to a crawl as the owl fired, the projectile’s orange tip immediately becoming surrounded with dark, seething energy. It left a purple tracer as it rocketed forward, too fast for Sue to react, aimed straight at Solstice’s back. She tried to push her mentor out of the line of fire, but before her arms would obey her, she saw the other Forest Guardian glow brightly in the corner of her eyes.

The light intensified as her own body finally found the strength to act—but only pushed on thin air, Solstice gone a blink later, her aura now behind Sue.

An instant later, the arrow flew through where the older Forest Guardian used to be a split-second ago, its spectral energies surging as it nicked the very edge of Sue’s fin. She felt molten knives stabbing her spine and mind, expression twisting to scream as her legs gave out from under her—

But the arrow kept going.

As she fell, she sensed Sundance’s aura be nearly extinguished in an instant; the wise, loving flames of her presence reduced to mere cinders. Sue writhed as she landed on the grassy dirt, another wave of suffering filling her body as her head impacted the ground.

She heard Sundance collapse near her.

She heard the thud of her crutch following her down.

She heard Solstice shriek for help.

And then, there was only silence.