Sue came to with a startle, feeling herself jolt forward at the sudden awakening—but her point of view didn’t shift at all.
Her mind tried to move her body around, turn her head, her eyes, scream for help. Nothing, again and again, bringing her from unconsciousness straight into panic. A few moments later, the perspective finally shifted, leaning backward—and letting her spot something in the corner of her vision, the brown feathers bringing forth a terrifying realization.
This wasn’t her body.
The awareness didn’t stop Sue from trying to thrash against her bindings, at least initially, but her motivation petered out fast, especially once this body began to shuffle along the branch it was perching on. After she’d given up on trying to move, she attempted to concentrate on what her temporary host was observing.
The wide path they were hiding beside felt... familiar, but Sue wouldn’t be able to nail down why, even if she tried. To her worry, its initial emptiness wouldn’t last, with Ginger and Alastor walking in from the left, their appearance oddly detailed. Every single scale in all their stark colors, every single strand of red and black fur, all sharp and in focus. This body must’ve been some good hundred meters away, how the hell—
And then; Solstice entered the scene. Or, at least, someone who she thought was Solstice—a Forest Guardian without a crutch and with tattoos covering half their body. They initially lead the approaching group before shifting off to the side, making her host’s gaze narrow at their sight, so intensely it felt like an optical zoom.
People kept moving all around, but this body’s sole focus remained on what had to be the Mayor. Her host lifted their left wing, the damaged feathers surrounding a puncture wound not even registering as Sue's attention was fixed on what they were doing with it. She only barely made out them holding something green above and just to the side of their center of vision, the realization making Sue gasp soundlessly—right as Juniper nocked another feather arrow.
Sue could only watch.
Seconds dragged out into minutes as Juniper aimed at Solstice, arrow at the ready. The Forest Guardian on the receiving end of the owl’s ire looked much more uncomfortable than usual, glancing around once, twice—and stopping abruptly, eyes going wide and her mouth freezing mid-gasp. Juniper’s focus honed even further as she drew the arrow back, awaiting a sign. Moments later, Solstice clenched her hand twice in a quick succession, the gesture accompanied by a voice spoken in a choir of a thousand silver voices, sentencing her to her doom:
“Now.”
An instant later, Juniper let the arrow loose, streaking across the air with its malicious purple tracer, aimed right at the Moonview’s Mayor—
And then; it missed.
Its aim immaculate; its power beyond compare—and yet, it missed, almost grazing its target’s collarbone. It didn’t strike the grass behind her, however; it hit something else, something obscured, something golden—
----------------------------------------
And inadvertently woke Sue up.
She was too shocked to let herself come to, her whole body shaking as she tried to stand up as soon as possible. All she earned for that attempt was a wave of nausea rolling through her. Stinging pain rushed from her front and back simultaneously, forcing her eyes closed as she sat hunched over something soft. All the adrenaline boiling inside her made even her own breathing too loud, with any attempts to quieten it by calming down clashing with her exertion and need for air.
What, where, how, was this real; where am I—
Sue tried to look around again, making both herself and the being she’d opened her eyes to see jump backward in shock, their expressions equally startled. They were large, almost all black, and very, very hairy. Before too much panic could build up in her, her recollection finally kicked in: Large, dark, furry, night kin—Jasper.
With her memories having caught up with the speed of her fear, Sue could take the rest of the scene in. Jasper sitting so close to her bedding initially felt confusing, but that emotion didn’t last for longer than it took Sue to notice the several salves and pieces of clean-ish off-white fabric laying on a stool beside him. Her sudden awakening had seemingly caught him in the middle of reaching for one of the former—and if his scared, frozen expression was any sign, he was no less shocked by her than she’d been by him.
They were inside of a rough wooden hut, the rickety planks that comprised its walls not filling Sue with confidence. The bedding beneath her was similarly barebones, a soft woven cover on top of what felt like a bed-shaped mound of leaves.
I’m being tended to. Things are alright. Things are alright.
The most recent... vision provided plentiful fuel for her overactive anxiety, but Sue was determined to not let it dominate her again. She may not have had even the slightest inkling of an idea how Solstice and Sundance communicated with the night kin through telepathy despite the latter’s apparent immunity, but exact words weren’t needed this time—hopefully.
“G-good afternoon,” Sue mumbled in as calm of a voice as she could manage.
Her words did wonders, Jasper’s bulky frame visibly calming down at hearing her anxiety having waned away by now. Soon after, he resumed his previous action and kneeled beside the bedding, a hairy hand reaching to take apart something Sue hadn’t consciously noticed until that point.
Several layers of bandages were wrapped around her torso, securing a dressing and other medical-looking pieces of white fabric to the tip of her front horn. If the size of it all was any indication, the wound they were concealing thankfully wasn’t very large—though it still hurt a bit when she breathed. It reminded Sue of the sensations of something touching a fresh, unpleasant cut, except happening every time her lungs drew in the air.
Uncomfortable, but not unmanageable.
She gave Jasper free access to her recent injury as she tried to scan her surroundings in search of the rest of her impromptu peace party, regretting the latter immediately. As much as it smarted when just breathing, the wound on her horn kept its worst for last, flaring up with burning pain the moment she tried tapping into her sixth sense.
Figured it’d hurt, but not that much...
The realization didn’t help Sue’s confidence much, leaving her grimacing and unable to do much more than breathe deeply. Jasper’s help was very appreciated, though; the awareness that someone was looking after her did wonders in keeping her grounded. Once he was done unwrapping the bandage around her horn, he began applying the paste he’d brought with him—but not before Sue got a good look at the damages.
The cut couldn’t have been deeper than a quarter of an inch, the pinky-red tissue around it inflamed. The injury itself was almost bloodless by now, only a couple of tiny droplets oozing out the moment the old bandages were removed. No more dangerous than a nosebleed—she hoped, at least—even if much more painful.
It’d be nice to not have to worry about something for once here...
Once Jasper had discarded the used bandage, he applied some of the pre-prepared paste along the cut, making her wince at the immediate stinging sensation. Thankfully, he wrapped it up fast, putting the sweet-smelling, yellowish ointment away and pressing another piece of dressing against her injury. He then tied a small bit of decidedly well-worn bandage around her horn to keep it all in place and lean back, examining his efforts.
Martian first aid, done.
Sue couldn’t say it all made her feel immediately better or anything, but she appreciated his efforts all the same, doubly so after what she’d been through. She still had no idea what had actually happened, but at least now she was confident enough to try her luck with her psychic abilities again.
Arms performed their usual routine as she focused inward, gritting her teeth through the pain radiating from her horn. It still hurt, especially as she moved her mental reach around, but it was just barely tolerable now; letting Sue spot several nearby blobs of consciousness—including one of them making their way right towards her.
Alright, hopefully it’s some answers—Jasper?
A glance up at the much kinder of the two big black furry night kin revealed a very distraught expression. He was on the verge of tears, one hairy arm frozen in the middle of reaching out towards her head. It didn’t look aggressive at a glance—but a glance was all Sue would get before the impromptu medic withdrew his arm and the rest of himself from the scene, sobbing quietly as he left.
Just in time for Solstice to walk in through the other entrance.
As much relief as her presence brought the younger Forest Guardian, much of it was undercut by her terrible state. Concern, exhaustion, somber resignation, all clear, not just to Sue’s sixth sense but on Solstice’s face directly. Her eyes and cheeks were glistening, her posture was hunched over, her steps were staggered and shaky. Despite it all, she pushed on, whispering, “^S-Sue, I’m so glad to see you doing fine...^”
Sue wanted to rush in and hold her tight, to provide some of that well needed comfort—alas, she was in no position to do so. Instead, she asked, shocked, “Solstice, what—what happened!? D-did Juniper attack us?”
“^She attacked me,^” the Mayor clarified, though her words helped little with Sue’s confusion. Solstice could tell, a long, wistful sigh leaving her at having to go over such a draining and senseless sequence of events again. “^Juniper tried to strike me, but... something in me sensed it, and I teleported out of the line of fire. A-and then the arrow grazed you, a-and hit Sundance...^”
Sue gasped at that final addendum. The words jogged her tattered recollection, including the vixen collapsing beside her. If she hadn’t already experienced it earlier that day, the mention of a feat as sci-fi-ish as outright teleportation would’ve caught a lot more of her attention. “I-is she alright!?” she asked, almost getting up from her seat there and then.
“^She... she’s alive, but in a rough state. Her aura was hit hard, a-and… she’s in a coma.^”
“Thank—thank the gods...” Sue whispered, on the verge of tears.
The mention of damage to something with as undefined of a shape as an aura was difficult to interpret, but she didn’t want to burden her mentor with explaining it to her, nodding along. Solstice knew her pupil didn’t need an explanation to at least get the gist, and in any objective judgment it was a waste of time, but… she still wanted to go over it. To help Sue truly comprehend the gravity of the situation.
To feel like she could help someone, anyone.
“^C-come with me Sue,^” she beckoned, “^let me show you what I mean—i-if that’s alright.^”
The request came from nowhere, but Sue wasn’t about to reject it, not if it let her check up on her other mentor. She nodded eagerly, combining her crutch, good leg, and the stool that Jasper had left behind to pick herself back up. Her nicked horn throbbed a bit at the slight elevation change, but she gritted her teeth through it.
Their march was very short, the destination just a couple of buildings away. It was similarly bare-bones to the one they had just left, if slightly larger, its back entry closer to a large plank to be pushed aside than an actual door. A few simple wooden doodads aside, the inside was barren, though that’s not what Sue focused on.
Sundance was sleeping on her back and breathing deeply, with only a few bandages wrapped around her right shoulder. At a glance, it looked like she was just taking a nap or something, but the reality of the situation grew more unnerving as Sue tried to concentrate. As new as those sensations still were, Sue remembered the feel of Sundance’s mental presence very well—and to her horror, it was so much weaker now, so much frailer, feeling more so like a cancer patient than a mystic that had helped her with more than one conundrum already.
And that perception was only solidified once Sue felt Solstice’s mental reach adjust hers, helping her focus all the emotions away and hone in on just the vixen’s aura, just like she’d been taught.
This feels... so disturbing.
Sue knew little about all this, distraughtly so, but even she couldn’t help but feel... wrong, very wrong. A few days ago, when Solstice had helped her train, hers and Comet’s auras gave her the impression of a large amoeba or something, blob-like and squirming. Sundance’s looked like that too, but if that blob had been repeatedly slashed with a dull knife, the strikes fraying it and almost cutting it in two. The very thought made Sue feel deathly cold, the injury she’d just imagined more than likely lethal.
And unhelpful to think about, for that matter.
Sundance wasn’t dead, she was just injured, her aura kept moving—if slowly—and the massive gash was mending itself ever so gradually. She would recover; it was just a matter of when, not if—or at least, that’s what Sue hoped for with her entire self.
“^You’re right, she will recover on her own in time, but it might take a while,^” Solstice confirmed. “^Could be days, could be weeks, could even be months. You never know with something as fickle as our aura.^”
“A-and that’s j-just from that one arrow? H-how!?” Sue asked, shocked.
“^Stray spirits can’t harm flesh, but they rend the soul apart.^”
The explanation clarified exactly nothing, except maybe hinting at it being an act of a ghost or something. If Juniper somehow was a ghost in the same vein as Hazel, she was doing a dang good job at maintaining a corporeal appearance, that’s for sure. Sue shook that topic aside, asking instead, “S-so her body is unharmed?”
“^It wasn’t hurt beyond the shallow puncture of the arrow quill, no.^”
The body was fine, but... the soul wasn’t. What a morbid thing to imagine, especially when taken to its logical conclusion. “C-could someone j-just die by having their aura... destroyed without their body being damaged, th-then?”
“^Y-yes, they could. Th-thank goodness it’s not what happened here, I... I wouldn’t know what to do...^” Solstice whimpered, almost breaking down again.
Sue immediately felt worse at having steered away from concern and towards morbid curiosity for no reason. She saw the older Forest Guardian’s head perk up as her thoughts turned to self loathing, but no words came out. They couldn’t, of course they couldn’t.
What does one even say to this?
“Wh-why did she attack you?” Sue whispered, trying to keep a grip on herself. “Where is she now, a-are we safe!?”
“^I... I hope we are. She’s no longer in Newmoon.^”
Solstice’s words were vague, but to her relief, she wouldn’t have to be the one to explain everything. After walking over to gently stroke her best friend’s head, the Mayor headed for the exit and tilted her head for Sue to follow.
Most of Newmoon’s inhabitants were gathered around the firepit outside, the approaching sunset lighting up the whole place in a much more somber way. Sue might not have been able to sense their emotions, but she could see their faces—and they weren’t happy.
“Oh, thank the Dark Lord, you’re alright Sue~,” Daystar perked up, her words unexpectedly emotional for her as her lanky body visibly relaxed at Sue’s arrival. The rest of the group mostly mirrored her reaction, relief being easier to read on some people’s faces than on others.
Much, much easier.
“Sue!” Pollux woofed, bolting over in an instant.
“^Oh gosh Miss Sue, you looked so hurt!^” Thistle followed.
Before she could even make it to the bench, she was already swarmed by the two little ones. Neither the lil’ fox nor the equally lil’ hat creature might’ve come even close to clearing her knee, but they still did their best to be walking obstacles, reminding Sue of Spark’s reaction to her doomed attempt to run away from Moonview, with all its emotions.
Daystar chuckled, “C’mon guys, give Sue space~.”
Thankfully, the two didn’t need to be told twice. They kept their boundless excitement in check for just long enough to let their friend sit down—and not a moment more; the kiddos huddling close from opposing sides, night kin fur and psychically enhanced hair both tingling pleasurably. The sight brought some smiles to the assorted gathering, but only so many, most still quiet under the gloomy atmosphere.
Sue figured this was the right moment to ask what happened—
“Blasted coward!” Thorns shouted through teeth, the clinking of sharp pincers at the ends of her purplish segmented body stressing the expression of anger.
As chill as Ginger was previously, he couldn’t help but concur with weak nods, the freely hanging green skin on the back of his head shuffling against itself. “I... yeah. Guess you must be mighty confused, eh, Sue?”
Sue nodded weakly, and the technicolor lizard responded in kind. It took him unusually long to gather his words. Even once he did, though, his eternally calm voice was noticeably strained at times, as if fighting to keep itself from rising. “Yeah. Juniper attacked Solstice, hit you and Sundance. Jasper and Heather helped you two while we tried to get an explanation out of her. She kept going about her usual stuff, how all this was just a ploy so that Moonview can backstab us or whatever. We weren’t having it and tried to bind her so that she could answer for what she’d done and she... *sigh*, she slipped through our grasp.”
That last admission made everyone gathered deflate, leaving them either kicking themselves for having acted too slowly, or getting royally annoyed at others for having acted too slowly. Not that it mattered anymore—the deed was done, and the perpetrator ran off without facing any consequences.
For a couple minutes afterward, nobody spoke up; the entire gathering plunged into cold, uncomfortable silence. Neither the night kin cub nor the magic hat creature took it any better than the rest, though Sue could only sense the emotions of the latter. They were definitely intense—feelings of betrayal towards Juniper, worry about Sue and Sundance, and most of all, grief at the peace talks and the possibility of reconciliation they brought with themselves being completely ruined.
And... yeah. They were.
The awareness deepened the sinking feeling that had already been worming its way into Sue, with every thought about just how bad the optics of all this were making her want to shrivel up. Two envoys and one tagalong venture to Newmoon, unarmed and with no ill intent. One of them gets almost literally stabbed in the back, the second gets hurt in the crossfire, and the perpetrator escapes.
The more Sue reflected on the situation, the more she felt the paranoia inside her grow. What if Juniper didn’t actively escape, but was let go? What if others were in on it? What if the opportunity to decapitate Moonview’s leadership was the only reason Newmoon even proceeded with these talks to begin with?
These were all absurd ideas and Sue knew it—but that didn’t mean that everyone else would know that too, especially not if it would play further into their preexisting distrust. At least her and to a greater extent Solstice were witnesses and could try to push back on the assassination angle once it would inevitably come up, but...
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
A part of Sue was afraid it wouldn’t end up mattering.
“Guess that’s it for the talks, eh,” Ginger sighed, his voice flat and yet tense, lacking its usual laid-back impression. Everyone else agreed with various degrees of anger and reluctance; a wordless chorus of nods, sighs, and slumps joining in from all around the fire pit.
Solstice almost looked like she had gone limp for a while, disheveled hair framing slightly tearing eyes. Fear, despair.
Guilt, shame.
“Well,” the lizard continued, rolling his shoulders, “suppose someone will have to help move Sundance back over to Moonview. I’m down to help.” There was a bit more emotion in his voice this time, but only so much. It came off less like eagerness to jump into action and more so reluctant agreement to proceed with a root canal treatment just to get it over with.
“Thank you, Ginger,” Solstice whispered, quiet and barely holding back tears.
The lizard nodded. “No worries, Solstice. It’s the least we can do after... all that.”
“What about Sue~?” Daystar asked, bringing the group’s attention back to the younger Forest Guardian. Everyone judged how suited she was to walking the distance between here and Moonview, inevitably arriving at either ‘no way in hell’ or ‘how in the world did she get in here in the first place?’.
“Good point. I’ve got the strength, but not the arm span to carry two. You could probably lift her without an issue, Daystar, but I imagine having to haul a psychic for a few hours would get very unpleasant fast,” Ginger reasoned.
“And that’s puttin’ it lightly, yeah~.”
Before Sue could wonder what her being a psychic had to do with her carriability, Ginger brought on the other obvious candidate. “Hmmm. Thorns?”
“If need be,” the scorpion relented.
“I’ll carry her.” A low, growly voice caught everyone’s attention, their gazes snapping over to what used to be an empty bench just moments ago, now occupied by Alastor. One day, Sue would understand just how he was doing all this, but that day wasn’t today.
Sue reeled back, startled by their sudden appearance as the closest thing Newmoon had to a leader continued, “Ya sure, Alastor?”
“Yes... I am. Considering everything, it would only be appropriate for me to make up for my prior offense.”
Sue was torn between finding that attitude commendable on the abstract level, and still being afraid of the night kin fox following his intangible attack earlier. Had the atmosphere been any less tense, she would’ve probably tried to leverage her position into asking him a question or two, but with everything going on right now... yeah, no—and the same went for the possibility of refusing the offer.
Sure, she could probably refuse and be fine, but the absolute last thing she wanted to do in the moment was drag this on any further through her silly personal preferences. Solstice, being Solstice, tried to intervene and reassure her—but she was too late. “Alright, th-that’s fine with me,” Sue whispered. “Thank you, Alastor...”
Nothing was fine, and nothing was fine with Sue especially. Her problems paled compared to others’, though, and so it was best to just try to move on.
The physical proximity to Alastor did little to reduce the intimidation factor, especially with his size. He could easily look her in the eyes from head on even when hunched, and the vibrant red claws were in a league of their own as far as looking threatening went. Being able to do... whatever he did with those shadows earlier was really just a cherry on top, even his physical body sufficient to make him the perfect killing machine. As to whether he used to be one, like Daystar and presumably many others in both villages...
Sue didn’t want to know.
She froze as those clawed arms scooped her up, holding her crutch as tight as she could before the adult fox deposited her... in his mane. Sue didn’t expect it to support her body like it did, but for once, it was a welcome surprise, letting her relax. Relax, and enjoy the view while she was sitting inside the crimson hair of a massive, shadowy, illusionist fox that had committed battery and assault towards her just a few hours ago, while a bright, multi-color lizard held Sundance in a fireman’s carry just a few feet away from them both, looking utterly unperturbed by her weight.
The same couldn’t be said for warmth, though. Ginger’s panting grew much louder and more frequent as the impromptu group headed off. Newmoon was shrinking in the distance behind them by the moment, the kiddos waving them off as they ventured into the woods.
For all Sue knew, this would be her last time ever seeing that village.
----------------------------------------
As tense as the mood was back in Newmoon, it gradually calmed down with every step, thawing into a muted, uneasy melancholy. Sundance was in a coma, the peace talks were ruined, there was no guarantee how anyone in Moonview would react to the news...
Yeah.
Sue tried to distract herself from that uncomfortable reality, attempting to steer her mind towards a silly tangent or another. Once that didn’t work, she considered resorting to her usual Plan B for extra hard bouts of depression. Sleep was no panacea, but it felt like one sometimes, especially for things being wrong inside one’s head. Just somewhere to go away from the sadness, away from creeping grief, into the sweet release of unconsciousness.
And it might have even worked here too, but she wasn’t in a position to find out.
As comfortable as Alastor’s mane was when stationary, the constant jumpiness of his steps made it nigh impossible to get any proper rest, or even really relax. It probably would’ve been crass had she done that anyway, but at least that would be a problem for someone with more spare brainpower to take care of when the time came—namely, future Sue.
Alas, no sleep this time, or any other rest for that matter, either. All Sue could do was observe the passing scenery, its monotonousness making that rather taxing. Striking up a conversation was always a possibility, especially with Solstice here to translate for her.
Considering that course of action would’ve been unthinkable even back in her home world where she didn’t look like an extra from a Martian invasion movie and actually knew the language being used around her... attempting to do so here and now wasn’t the best of ideas.
Solstice already had plenty on her mind, as is.
Her emotions weren’t all too different to Sue’s own, deep down. Sadness, anxiety, restlessness. Sue could understand all those perfectly, too perfectly even, but the one that came immediately afterwards was a bit more confusing. Solstice lifted her arm, eyes scanning along its tattoos, and... doubted. Doubted deeply and painfully, the sensation less like dismissing something obviously bullshit a friend of a friend had mentioned, and more akin to questioning whether there even was any reason to keep going—
“^How are you holding up, Sue?^” Solstice whispered.
Figures I wasn’t the only one who can sense when others are focusing on me.
Sue gathered her words, the answer hardly pretty no matter how hard she tried to pretend she was alright. She couldn’t pretend, but she could lie, just to not have to rehash what the other Forest Guardian was no doubt already going through. She thought back, keeping her mouth closed, “^I’m... I’m fine. Just... a bit tired and worried.^”
Solstice nodded without looking over at her, her sigh loud enough to be audible even a few feet behind her. “^I-I wish I could come up with some reassurance right now. But... I can’t.^”
“^It’s okay, Solstice.^”
Nothing was okay, and they both knew it.
The air remained tense after that non-exchange, both of them knowing there was so much more to be said and yet being unable to put any words to these needs. Fortunately for everyone gathered, they wouldn’t be stuck in that moment of tension for much longer, Moonview coming into distant view after turning the last corner—
And bringing them to the very scene Sue had seen in her dream.
Her heartbeat spiked as her eyes desperately scanned the treeline, trying to find that Duck-damned owl. Nothing, no browns of her wings, no greenness of her leaf-like hood. She remained blended in perfectly, and all Sue could do was sit, watch,
And try to prevent further tragedy. “^S-Solstice!^”
“^Hmm?^”
Sue’s word had clearly taken the Mayor out of her train of thought. She looked up, stopping at realizing how close they finally were to her home. The rest of the group stopped behind her, interpreting the pause as a signal to drop their cargo—Sue onto her own legs, and Sundance into Solstice’s arms.
“^It’ll have to wait until later, Sue,^” Solstice sighed, switching back to the spoken word. “Ginger, Alastor... Thank you so much for your help. I’m... I’m sorry.”
Sue’s words caught in her throat as she tried to speak up again; her heart hammered faster and faster as she tried to spot the hidden threat.
“You’re welcome, Solstice. And there ain’t no reason to be sorry,” Ginger reassured, putting on his most convincing smile. “You did nothing wrong today.”
Solstice’s head slumped. “If only we were here just because of today.”
“If only, aye. But, oh well, I doubt that feeling sorry will help any of us much.”
It wouldn’t, and it couldn’t, and everyone gathered knew that from experience. Experience that mattered oh-so-precious-little once the time came for their psyches to start grinding on them because of what they had, or hadn’t done. Admittedly, Sue didn’t have much spare brain power for thinking through those peculiarities of the condition of all sentient beings. Not with what she’d seen in her dreams, their memory still so recent and vivid, and...
…no longer up to date, unless the vision had somehow censored Sundance’s massive, bushy body from Solstice’s arms.
What the hell is going on—
“It won’t, I know. Well, suppose it’s time for us to say our goodbyes.”
Solstice’s words snapped Sue out of that confusing train of thought, the impulse to avoid embarrassing herself kicking in soon after. “Y-yes, um—thank you for your help, A-Alastor.”
“It is no problem, Sue. I... apologize for my actions earlier, and thank you... f-for saving my son,” Alastor replied. With how low and steady his voice was when calm, Sue didn’t expect to hear a crack in his words, taking her aback.
Before she could dwell on it much, Ginger spoke up—“I see how it is, won’t say goodbye to me, eh?” he chuckled. The intended joke didn’t land particularly well, making him speak up again after seeing Sue’s eyes widen in worry at the possible faux pas. “Sorry, sorry, was just a joke. Yeah, I’m glad you three swung by. Was nice talking and meeting you all. Actually—”
Before Ginger could even complete his sentence, Sue felt a wave of static go through her. The sensation was familiar enough for her to have an idea of what she’d see once she looked up—and indeed, Solstice was gone, her teleport taking her well into Moonview.
Being left on her own didn’t feel any nicer the second time around.
Especially since she had company with her this time.
The lizard continued to speak for a few more moments before looking up and realizing the older Forest Guardian had left. Undeterred, he looked and appeared to repeat the same sentence as before towards Sue directly. It kinda sounded like a question, but as Daystar’s lesson had taught her, it could’ve been just the weird tonality of this language. Left with no way of responding confidently, Sue resorted to the true and tested tactic of playing very dumb.
Just like she’d practiced with Willow and Spark all the way back. “Sorry, I-I can’t understand you.”
In turning towards Ginger to deliver her response, Sue realized Alastor had left in the meantime. Just her, the technicolor lizard, a large stretch of dirt path in front of Moonview, and—wait, is that Rainfall on one of the nearby branches—
Right as she focused on what she thought to be the night kin bird, the recipient of her focus flew off, making them impossible to identify with certainty. Though... it wouldn’t be surprising if it was her, based on what Sue had heard earlier. Regardless of who exactly she’d glimpsed, Ginger deemed it fit to comment on it himself as well, ending his comment with a chittering warble that was probably intended to be perceived as laughter.
Heh, guess my confusion is a bit funny—wait, where are you going?
Sue could only blink in surprise as she watched Ginger finally pick up the slack and head towards Moonview. She had no idea how to react to that with the supposed exile in place, rooted in place until the colorful lizard himself glanced at her over his shoulder. A flick of his head toward the village sent the green skin hood flying, instructing her to follow him.
Not like she had anywhere else to go.
Her arm wasted no time complaining once it was time to get going, the few hours of reprieve seemingly not enough for its tastes. Sue was split between wanting to be finally freed from the need to use a funky-shaped stick just to walk anywhere and telling her own limb to get a grip, and the latter impulse seemed to be winning. As weird as it was to admit it, her crutch had started to feel less like an inanimate tool to be passed on once she was done, and more like a part of herself. A rough, heavy, occasionally unwieldy part of herself that probably had several splinters waiting to get back at her, but a part of her all the same.
Especially since the odds were that even the crutch was alive and a specimen of the local magical fauna. Not a massive chance, sure, but a non-zero one all the same. Okay, no, scratch that idea. She would definitely not want to have some unidentified life form by her side every time she slept.
Except if it’s Lilly in disguise.
Before Sue could get any deeper into that inane train of thought, her sixth sense finally conquered the little that remained of her attention span. At last, Moonview’s entrance, an important night kin in tow, and possibly another in the surrounding trees, and exactly zero idea of what Ginger was planning and how badly it would go.
She didn’t know whether this situation or a peeping tom crutch were more uncomfortable to think about, but it was nothing if not a close matchup.
To her immediate relief, the first few steps into the village weren’t particularly eventful—though it wasn’t to last. Bit by bit, people around her realized just who it was beside her; their reactions as varied as their appearances.
Some were entirely neutral and unbothered, clearly not understanding why this particular newcomer would be more attention catching than any other. Their perspective was admirable, especially when it manifested as polite friendliness, Ginger gladly returning every greeting that came his way.
Others... were more hesitant.
The further into the village they ventured, the more instances of all out bewilderment there were around them. Many passersby just stopped where they stood to stare, some left frozen like this for ages as the unexpected pair moved past them, partially paralyzing traffic wherever they went. Shock was a near universal sensation from those who reacted at all, but what followed varied greatly.
Some were too uncomfortable to keep looking. A few were afraid. Both reactions inevitably culminated into the one experiencing them trying to scoot away unnoticed, just to not have to deal with these emotions anymore. Most were just ashamed, often deeply so. They wouldn’t run, but they didn’t have it in them to watch, either, staring away in unease. There were a few blips of enmity here and there, but none of them resulted in any escalation, thank Duck.
One near-murder because of someone being a hateful, bloodthirsty idiot is enough for today.
All the while, Ginger himself didn’t appear to react much to anything going on around him, at least as far as any visible reactions went. He’d definitely noticed some passersby, glancing at the louder grumbles coming from the crowd, but he didn’t act on them. Be it because of his personality or because of wanting to maintain a low profile, it was probably for the best.
He clearly didn’t fully understand her inability to comprehend what he was saying, at least if the occasional comments were any sign. Keeping quiet and just not responding ought to have been enough of a tell, right? Sue certainly hoped so, and that he wasn’t relying on her lack of responses for any decisions. It was a silly concern, and she knew that well, but, good Duck, did the current situation not make remaining stress free even about the dumb stuff easy in the slightest.
Eventually, they made their way over to the areas of Moonview Sue was growing familiar with, the crowd’s reactions changing. Everything from earlier was still there, but now a few onlookers had walked over from the other parts of the village as the news spread.
Most of them were on the younger side and very curious about it all, but decidedly not all. The couple strands of genuine malice she’d felt from the crowd sent shivers down her back and fins, especially since she couldn’t narrow down who these emotions came from exactly.
Also, shivers going down an injured fin hurt. Ow.
After turning another corner, Sue briefly paused at feeling the last emotion she would’ve expected to sense in these circumstances: excitement. Though, hold on, was this excitement towards Ginger, or—
Her answer buzzed in front of her face before she could even finish asking herself the question.
Basil had no business being as excited and happy as he was with how tense the situation all around him was, but for the good of everyone gathered, he didn’t care one bit. He waved excitedly at Sue while holding the nameless brown caterpillar in his other stinger arm, the little one continually trying and failing to wriggle out of his dad’s hold.
Hers wouldn’t be the only attention Basil would end up catching, though. The bee’s excited buzzing got Ginger to speak up as well, his voice sounding genuinely interested. Based on the insect’s utter lack of reaction to the lizard, he likely had no idea who Ginger was, and for the better.
Way better, Basil’s constant stream of buzzes and clicks eventually culminating in him handing his little one for the night kin to hold, taking the technicolor lizard by surprise if his eyes opening all the way for a moment were any sign. As surprising as that development was, Ginger went along with it, carefully holding the caterpillar and even scritching under their chin with one finger, much to the little insect’s audible delight.
All the while, Sue went through the by now familiar motions, double checking the surface she was standing on to avoid the repeat of her past mishap. Extend left arm, tune out emotions, focus on—
So many people, so much attention, ugh!
Sue recoiled at her attempted telepathy, doubling over at how painful her brief attempt was, for her mind and fin alike. She felt she owed Basil clear communication because of what had happened, and here she was, left effectively mute again, the thought only filling her with more anxiety. Another try yielded largely the same results, except somehow even worse. It sent a wave of nausea to rock her body and made it feel like the wound on her front was simultaneously bleeding and burning, all for daring to try talking with a friend.
None of that, only more pain.
Feeling herself become the focus of many observers afterwards didn’t help any, either. Sue had no idea what to do—couldn’t really calm anyone down without linking up, but couldn’t link up; hell, couldn’t even tune out all the mental noise around her while keeping on walking. It was a lot; it was so much, her breath began to catch in her throat,
And then, buzzing right before her, and something warm and smooth on her left shoulder.
Prying her eyes open revealed Basil to be hovering in the air in front of her, his concern palpable from up close. Compound eyes made it impossible to make out what he was looking at exactly, but he’d clearly noticed the bandages around her fin at some point, pointing towards it with one stinger before buzzing out a question. She was in no shape to answer, but Ginger was, his flat response only leaving Basil more concerned.
And determined.
And this time, also more mindful, making him stop himself right before he tried dragging Sue anywhere again. He wasn’t an expert at nonverbal communication with anyone outside of his kin, but he could try, just to make sure his friend was alright. He pointed a disarmed stinger at her head, then made a smooth line between it and his head, then pointed at the injury while shaking his head.
Right, I can’t do this, not in this state. Guess I’ll just have to make do like this for a while...
Sue gave the bee a slow, begrudging nod, his acknowledgment immediate and confirmed by Ginger. The realization brought on a bit of sorrow, though not for any selfish reasons, as evidenced by the unusually-slow-by-Basil’s-standards hug that followed. It may have been a bit uncomfortable because of bringing even more emotions closer to her injured body part, but it was very appreciated all the same. “Thank you, Basil...”
No understanding, but a cheerful nod.
By the time he was done, a quick glance around made it clear that some of the excess attention had crept away from the scene. Many onlookers were no doubt disappointed to see the nefarious and wicked night kin... play with a baby insect in his arms instead of… whatever it was he was supposed to be doing.
His jokes might not have been the most well timed, but he was undefeated at peek-a-boo.
As Sue took that adorable scene in, she felt something warm and smooth bump into her left hand, a quick glance revealing it to be one of Basil’s stingers. If him doing it again a few more times afterwards was any sign, it seemed to be an intentional gesture, though what it implied wasn’t... comfortable to imagine.
I like you a lot Basil, but I’m not sure that grabbing stingers barehanded is a good idea...
…
Then again, he probably knows that better. Maybe it’s high time to just trust him instead of assuming I know more about his body than he does.
While Sue reeled from the self-critical part of her mind smacking her with a baseball bat, her free hand took the bee up on his offer. His stinger was as firm as its appearance made it look like, the chitin threading the needle between being too rough to be comfortable and too smooth to hold on to safely.
Alright, yeah, walking with a support was easier, and probably necessary with how much her attempts at telepathy had drained her. And it made Basil very happy, which was the most important thing.
Once Sue was confident in her grasp, the bee hovered over to ask the lizard something while staying close enough to keep providing constant support. Ginger’s answer was a verbal equivalent of a shrug paired with the physical equivalent of a shrug—namely, a shrug. Neither of the two knew how to proceed from there for a while, the deadlock broken through with a snap of the lizard’s fingers and a short, trilled response.
Their new pace was even slower than before, but neither Ginger nor Basil cared much, the former still playing with the caterpillar in his arms. The lil’ insect’s occasional drawn out squeaks had his dad break into buzzed laughter each time, followed by his typical flood of excited words.
Things were good. The baby was happy. Nobody was freaking out.
While the two men chatted amongst themselves about something Sue couldn’t quite figure out, she glanced over at the nearby construction site and the being closest to her. The bulk of the hut was done by now, with only the roof missing anymore. And, if the small mound of off-red tiles beside the building was any sign, the roof was exactly what was being worked on at the moment.
It seemed to be just Granite that was working on it, though. A glance further into the clearing determined the rest of the builders’ team to have already started work on the next hut, all of them anywhere from elbow to entire-body deep in the foundation work, depending on their height.
They really build these fast, huh.
Placing roof tiles unsurprisingly didn’t turn out to be any more exciting to watch than expected, even if it was being performed by a four-armed gray non-human made of what looked like pure muscle. Right as Sue was about to look away and let her gaggle of acquaintances resume their walk while turning her thoughts towards wondering just how many tons could Granite deadlift, something odd caught her attention.
There was a small pile of five tiles within the reach of the four-arms’... lower pair of arms, reduced to two right after he took a few off the top. As she turned her head to look away, she spotted... something small, pitch black, and very misshapen at the very bottom of her vision, sending her inner ear into haywire—and then, the next thing she knew, she was blinking her daze away, Basil buzzing at her in concern. The... whatever she saw was nowhere to be seen.
I’ll probably need another checkup soon, huh.
Granite’s low voice distracted her from that train of thought, the remaining tiles gone all of a sudden. All of two tiles going missing didn’t justify more than a bit of annoyance, and that’s where Granite’s emotions were at as he looked over his shoulder, about to speak up at their little group—and froze, together with Ginger.
The abrupt shift made Sue gulp nervously, the gray giant’s mind still stunned in shock. Though, if Ginger’s equally surprised reaction was anything to go by, it wouldn’t stay so for good. And if something bad were to happen, she’d be powerless to stop them—
...
She had no idea Granite could be this loud, but it was only fitting.
In an instant, the builder was off the ladder and dashing over to Ginger, surprise giving way to elation, bright and warm, manifesting in a gregarious shout. Its suddenness took Sue and Basil aback, but the lizard himself seemed to have expected it, his usually flat expression shifting to the biggest, toothiest smile Sue had seen him give yet as he ran towards Granite.
As suddenly as the dash had started, it ended, the technicolor lizard’s happiness giving way to shock and pause; a couple of warbled words and a raised hand conveyed the need to stop to the four-armed builder as well. Without waiting another moment, Ginger ran back up to Basil and handed his son back to him; the bee’s question about what was happening cut off by the night kin resuming whatever had almost happened before—namely, a massive, tight hug from Granite.
Ginger’s legs kicked the air as he was squeezed for all he was worth. The instant of concern for the lizard’s well being that followed was abated once Granite had loosened up his embrace enough to let him breathe again, before Ginger returned the affection to whatever extent his comparatively shorter reach was capable of.
The sight of Ginger getting squeezed like a dog toy, including his eyes going comically wide for a moment, more than made up for his mistimed joke earlier.
The celebrations wouldn’t end there, though, nowhere near. Granite followed his hug by shouting toward the rest of the construction crew, the call’s effect immediate. One by one, the other builders, the absent Kantaro aside, scrambled over from the other site. The brown spiky pangolin, the bipedal rhino, the red metal... robot insect, the entire gang’s here.
The entire gang was excited to see Ginger again.
Maybe there is hope after all.
Maybe things will be alright.