Eventually, Sue woke up.
She had no idea when that happened, nor did she have much reason to care—not anymore, at least. There were a few details she could piece together without opening her eyes, and that’s what she decided to focus on as a distraction.
She couldn’t sense anyone else nearby, which meant that unless one of the night kin gave her an unexpected visit, she was alone. The faint glow that penetrated her eyelids told her that the sun was long risen. And, by extension, that she’d slept in hard. Suppose with the chaotic, mentally exhausting mess of yesterday that was hardly a surprise. Still, the awareness of her own laziness made Sue feel just that bit worse.
On top of all the other things she already felt horrible about.
I rushed straight into Newmoon like an idiot. Likely sabotaged their peace talks before they even began. Maybe—
The thought choked Sue up as she curled tighter on her bedding, thinking back to Spark’s despair. To Sundance’s grave injury. To the absolute clusterfuck of a mess that Ginger accidentally toppling a third of Night Mother’s shrine would cause.
Maybe it’s all my fault.
Maybe I really was meant to die when rescuing Spark and Pollux, and all this is a consequence of me being allowed to live.
The train of thought was immensely unpleasant to think about, even aside from the obviously horrible undertones. It was far from the first time Sue had considered ending it all, but she knew that, on a practical level, she didn’t have the courage to do it. She was a coward through and through, one much too used to wallowing in her own pathetic misery to even consider freeing herself from it.
Through any means, not just the most drastic.
Her mind took its sweet time torturing itself, listing every way in which this could’ve been avoided. From things as simple as listening to Sundance like she should have, to her having just not showed up in this world in the first place. Sue had no way of knowing, of course, but suspected that if she hadn’t been on that particular trip on that particular day, she wouldn’t have ended up here.
If she had friends, any friends, hell even just acquaintances, literally anyone to just hang out with on that fateful day, regardless of if she liked them or not, just to do anything but keep pushing through an internet-addicted loneliness. Or had gotten herself a boyfriend already. Or had taken up a side job to pad out her savings some more instead of wasting time strutting through the woods at the ass end of Scotland.
If only I was just fucking normal.
Those thoughts didn’t lead her anywhere and never would—Sue was well aware of that fact. Throwing a wrench into despair’s ever winding spiral, anything to let her brain switch tracks into something less depressing, was always the hardest part.
‘Less’ was definitely the load bearing word here.
Sue opened her eyes with a grunt, the slight movement of her neck forcefully reminding her of just how sore she was all over. Empty tent, Solstice’s bed neatly made. A lighter patch of canvas further up—the sun was shortly before, or shortly after, noon. Neither of those possibilities was particularly encouraging.
She needed something else to think about, something dumber—
That dream.
Sue still remembered it clearly, despite her lack of any interest in what had transpired inside it. Night Father deservedly chewing Night Mother out, two weird small shadows she couldn’t quite place. Eventually, everything falling apart.
She didn’t even have it in her to stick with the ‘Duck’ thing anymore, especially with how vividly messed up Her depiction was. It almost looked like it had been assaulted and... hell, vandalized. Like, a bunch of hoodlums just came over and kicked everything that stuck out and spray painted the rest. Did that represent what Ginger had done to Her altar? Not a wholly nonsensical possibility, but, then again,
Did all that mean anything at all?
What if it all really was just a dumb dream her guilty subconscious came up with to make sense of it all? Sue remembered joking that she didn’t have the creativity to come up with everything she’d seen in these visions, but what if it wasn’t her fault, and instead this dumb body she was stuck in had caused it?
What if it was messing with her again? What if it had been lying to her? What if just being stuck in it was twisting her mind? What if these dreams weren’t real, the emotions all around her weren’t real, the affection Lilly or Joy had felt towards her weren’t real? What if she really had been making it all up to appease herself, to delude herself into thinking anyone here gives a shit any more than anyone back home did? What if—
This is fucking dumb.
Sue closed her eyes and withdrew further into her bedding, grumbling into the nearest patch of exposed fabric. At least half of these possibilities sounded even dumber and more outlandish than the associated events having actually happened. She was psyching herself up; she knew that. Even despite that, though… some of those ideas still felt scarily possible, at least in part.
She was about ready to doubt it all again, to launch off into another spiral. Her brain threw a spanner into the cogs of that aggravating train of thought, stalling it, if briefly. The tiny note attached to the spanner, though, sent her worrying again about things that mattered much more than her being a whiny, sad, worthless mess.
What’s gonna happen to Newmoon?
One of theirs had attacked a citizen of Moonview, then their de facto leader had defaced a sacred shrine. Sue knew that this wasn’t all there was to either situation—the night kin had tried to catch Juniper, and the latter was an accident that Kantaro outright supported. Knowledge like that was helpful, but Sue feared it ultimately wouldn’t matter.
Everyone would just see the blurb and pick up their pitchforks.
...
Assuming they haven’t already done that.
A freezing chill went through her spine at the thought; her slow breaths turned panicky. She tried to think of what would happen afterwards, settling on hoping beyond hope that the night kin would be just exiled again, merely driven out of their homes because of no act of their own once more—and not worse. Thank goodness for Moonview’s infinite magnanimity in letting these lesser creatures live despite their second-hand sins, or something.
Even as she considered those actually important consequences, a selfish thread soon crept into her mind. Despite her attempts at forcing it out, it persisted, doing a wonderful job in making the once-human feel even worse for thinking about herself in all this.
I’m stuck here now, aren’t I?
The thought of her supposed purpose here was a distant one by now, distant and inane to consider. How did she think she could actually help in this nightmarish mess? Worse yet, how could the supposed deity that put her here have expected her to make anything better? Sue felt like a moron, but that deity must’ve been an imbecile through and through.
Regardless of the exact intelligence quotient of the divine dimwit in question, though, it had won. Sue had failed at her task; she’d be stuck here forever. Or, at least, until she finally died.
Forced to stay in this insane world.
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes at the thought. Not at the horror of spending her days in Moonview, but at how conflicted that thought made her feel. She was stuck in a hellish ethnic conflict, one side of which might or might not have already been chased out of their homes for the second time. Even if no more blood would be spilled, she’d have to live with knowing that this place had hurt so many people so many times, even without it all being specifically her fault.
The local wildlife was monstrous and fully capable of killing her if she’d ever dared step a foot outside of Moonview. Hell, nobody inside the village was any better, either—literally every living being here could probably end her life in a dozen different ways. And if she kept practicing her freaky brain magic, in time, so would she.
And yet...
The thought that followed stung extra hard, much more so than even the injury on her horn at its worst. Despite doubting them earlier, despite trying to ascribe them to the trickery of this new body of hers... Sue still felt all these emotions coming from people she cared about. Even if they were just a result of her own bodily deception, if she were to live the rest of her days as a Forest Guardian, it wouldn’t matter—it’d just be the new normal for her, on top of an entire pile of other new normals.
Joy’s attachment, Sundance’s pride, Lilly’s infatuation. Solstice’s...
Sue cringed extra hard, not wanting to spell that one out to herself. Not wanting to acknowledge everything that had been steadily brewing in her mentor, and which she’d been sneaking glimpses of throughout. She didn’t deserve to be thought of this way, to receive that kind of comfort. Besides, what an insult all this would be to Aurora in particular, getting replaced by a moronic, psychically crippled stranger that had accomplished nothing of value.
If vengeful ghosts exist in this world, this is the stuff that brings them into existence.
The other side of the equation was, despite all the Moonview’s unfolding tragedies, even more depressing. A familiar world in which not a single soul cared about her beyond the most detached, professional interest. Where she wouldn’t be torn apart by massive spiders, but where nobody would look after her was she to end up on the streets, either.
Where, outside of a few randoms on some forums she’d frequented, nobody had even realized her absence.
Suppose the flip side of being this much of a loner was that staying here wouldn’t be hurting anyone she cared about. No friends, no relatives—at most, a couple of concerned teachers, maybe a police investigation. And then, life would keep turning on without her, without one of billions of cogs in its massive machine.
Replaced so effortlessly, it’s as if she was never there at all.
It was a choice without an answer. Sue’s mind went crazy as she tried to make heads and tails of it all. Torn between the options, between all their factors. Torn between which of these two outcomes she wanted,
And which she really deserved, deep down.
A mutated failure who fell face first into any sort of positive attention, and which had only made everything worse afterwards—
*shuffle*
Sue’s depressive spiral was suddenly interrupted by light assaulting her eyes; a low groan signaled her displeasure. As she squinted towards the tent’s entrance, she finally made out the being that had just stepped in. Their mumbling voice was soft as usual, but not without its own share of nervousness, amplified further at seeing the state she was in. She muttered, “Good morning, Willow...” Her tone wasn’t particularly encouraging, but at least it made it clear she wasn’t in obvious pain.
A couple winces later, she’d finally pried herself off the bedding’s surface, half her body complaining with various levels of soreness as she sat up. The other wanted to get some more sleep. She was cranky, achy, but—at last—fully awake for once.
Behold.
As Sue properly came to, she focused on what emotions she could sense coming from Willow. Concern, worry, a bit of surprise at seeing her here. Less so here and more so at this hour, probably. They were pushing them all out of their mind as they tried to concentrate, professional focus soon replacing them. Just as they did many times by now, the pink and cream medic got to examining her busted leg, whispering reassurances as they unwound the bandage.
This time, the sights that awaited her weren’t half bad, at last. True, the bite injury still looked like the aftermath of a bad knife accident, but was now firmly on the side of ‘annoying’ as opposed to ‘life threatening’.
With the brief examination done, Willow got to treating her wounds, the few supplies they had brought with themselves getting used one by one. A couple of medical-looking ointments, some more dressings to secure the injury. No more reinforcement, finally. She’d briefly considered trying to link up with them for some chitchat, but... soon dismissed that idea. She didn’t feel like using her injured psychics, and she really didn’t feel like talking right now.
Those two were valid reasons, but far from the only ones.
Sue had no idea about everything that could’ve possibly contributed to the medic’s reactions yesterday when seeing her with Ginger. Could very well be that they’d heard what had happened to Sundance and maybe had assumed that the lizard had done it, or were just that nervous because of the vixen’s injury.
Sue didn’t know, and to a decent extent, didn’t care. It still weirded her out, and she still couldn’t help but see the medic in a different light afterwards.
With the replacement bandages finally secured, Willow caught her attention with a couple of light pats. Their instructions weren’t particularly difficult to decode. Point at her legs, point at the floor. Point at her, point up. Getting up just on her own was trickier than she’d remembered it being—but, for the first time in almost a week, finally possible. It didn’t feel all too comfortable, not with her injury still aching a bit, but she could at least stand.
A couple more days and I’ll be ready to walk normally again—
Sue’s assessment of her own recovery was immediately interrupted by Willow’s short, satisfied comment as they turned to leave the tent—
With her crutch in their arms.
She was too stunned to even respond. One arm reached out in mute protest, but before she could gather words, or even make any sounds, the medic was gone, and so was her mobility tool.
Panic soon built up inside her at the idea of being left without her crutch, but giving walking another try soothed it soon after, thankfully. She could walk on her own now, and her leg only occasionally ached anymore—a far cry from her borderline self-harming excursion towards the window when she’d first woken up. Minor pain didn’t mean ‘no pain’ though, and even just circumnavigating Solstice’s tent proved more annoying than she’d hoped it’d be.
Some of her wanted to lie back down and be a vegetable for the rest of the day. The idea didn’t even strike her as that outlandish or disagreeable, really—if nothing else, she wouldn’t make anything else even worse that way. However, another factor fought against, and eventually overpowered, her own seething depression, even if it was a very banal one.
She was really, really hungry.
Breakfast first, moping later.
With the world’s driest, most joyless chuckle, Sue headed for the tent’s entrance. She grumbled as she stepped outside, eyes squinting and briefly tearing up as they got used to so much light again. Before long, though, she was on her way towards the pantries and kitchens on the other end of Moonview, with nobody to guide her, nobody to restrain her, and no crutch to keep her company.
At last, she was free to roam in this doomed world she had created.
----------------------------------------
Sue had a noticeable limp, and it annoyed her.
Even if she didn’t feel like she was undoing days of healing with each step, her leg still wasn’t ready to take all the beating head on. She somehow walked slower than with a crutch, and the prick of pain with every other step added up into minor frustration. Worse yet, it felt like this arrangement drew even more attention onto her than she’d had before with her crutch.
Though, on a second thought, the much more likely reason for the latter was everything that had happened yesterday. Sue grumbled under her breath—Ginger hadn’t done anything wrong, and almost every other person was focusing on her because of her having accompanied him. A part of her wanted to stop and shout at the passersby, ask them just what the hell was their problem, but she knew full well that all she’d accomplish was to make even more of a circus out of herself; the awareness of that fact helped exactly jack.
She wasn’t even sure how many of those looks were of concern for her, how many of fear, how many of reassurance, how many of disgust. There were some of each in there, that much she was sure of, but with half her brain soggy to the point of falling apart, the other half cranky, and the third half being pushed to overdrive just to let her get around; she had negative spare brainpower to really think through the specific ratios.
A distraction is in order.
As to what that distraction even could be… Sue had no idea—no good ideas, at least. Willow’s clinic was on her way to the clearing, so she could very well swing by and check up on Sundance. Whether she should was... debatable, but at least it’d be a distraction. And if Spark was still there, she could try to comfort her a bit. Just to have that single, tiny way in which her presence in Moonview was actually making anything better.
Were she feeling any less torn apart, she would’ve been able to come up with a dozen more, but, alas.
Spotting the clinic’s door hanging open caught Sue off guard once she turned the corner. As confusing as it initially was, the wall of ambient heat she’d waltzed into the moment she cleared the doorframe answered the question before she could even ask it. The clinic was busy, almost as much as when she first stayed here, but with immeasurably different moods throughout, be they sad or serious.
Spark had barely moved since Sue had last seen her, still laying down beside her mom and only letting out a quiet whimper at seeing her friend walk in. The more plant-like of the medics was presently looking after the older vixen, her multicolored collar of flowers much easier to make sense of from closer up. She might not have been lecturing towards an entire informal class, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t busy passing her knowledge on—the white and navy cat was here, too.
She spared Sue only the briefest glimpse before refocusing back on her teacher, letting the latter finally notice her arrival. In all honesty, Sue cared precious little for either of them, especially the feline—not now, at least, and especially not when they were interrupting her from giving Spark the comfort she needed.
A brief touch of a vine on her shoulder made the Forest Guardian flinch and snap towards the source of the sensation. Her suddenness and annoyed expression took the living bouquet aback, the thin extremity soon withdrawing into the chaotic mess of flowers. A part of Sue wanted to tell her off for distracting her from this one important thing she could still do, to shout an obscenity or two and storm out.
Instead, she took a deep breath and forcibly softened her expression, easing it from aggravated to just deeply tired.
Satisfied at that development, the plant-ish medic was about to speak up before cutting herself off, remembering what had happened a couple of days ago. She turned directly to the cat in the room, asking what sounded like a question in a smooth, slow voice. Without skipping a beat, the psychic fulfilled her request, a white ear unfolding to show off a glowing something on its inner part, followed by a rough, but familiar sensation inside Sue’s mind. “Hi. Orchid wants to—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Sue snapped back, exasperation even clearer to hear than it was to see.
It briefly took the plant aback before she spoke up herself. “Pleasure to see you once more. Highly unfortunate it’s in such a tense context. Sue, wasn’t it~?” she asked, to which Sue nodded wordlessly, relieved that the middle-aged medic at least had enough courtesy to greet her first. “Suppose it’d be uncouth of me to delay my point. Rumor has it you know what actually happened to Sundance, no?”
It was probably the exact last topic Sue wanted to talk about right now. She was of half a mind to turn toward the clinic’s entrance and just waltz out there and then, but... she supposed that informing people tending to the vixen would be helpful in her recovery—especially with the question catching Spark’s attention, too. The kit picked herself up and shyly walked over to Sue, wordlessly nuzzling the side of her hand, helping her keep her cool.
Just have to get over myself and bumble it out.
“I was there, yes,” Sue sighed, glancing down at the bandaged tip of her horn. “I got a... very good look at what had happened.”
The connection immediately clicked into place for Orchid and Spark alike, with the cat remaining entirely unemotional as always. “A-are you okay, Sue?” the lil’ fox asked, her voice warbling and hoarse, almost making Sue pick her up into her arms there and then. With her disheveled state and weakness, she limited herself to petting the fox’s head, the gesture appreciated all the same.
Sue’s response left the plant medic briefly covering her mouth in shock, before she swallowed it and tried to push on. “I’m terribly sorry, Sue. Still, such knowledge would greatly help, including in treating your own injury.”
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
“I-I wish I knew exactly,” Sue earnestly answered. “It all happened so fast, a-and... Juniper shot an arrow, i-it glowed a bit, and then grazed my horn and hit Sundance. I-I think that’s it.”
Despite her occasional crassness, the bouquet medic knew better than to probe more. She brought a hand to her mouth, thinking through what Sundance and Solstice had taught her about how one’s aura affected their physical health—
“Was it dark or spectral energy?” the cat asked, her question delivered in the exact same monotone as everything else she’d said previously.
It came off as at best disinterested, and at worst as dismissive, and the lack of almost any emotion aside from focus only aggravated Sue more. The plant medic tried to defuse the situation, chiming in, “Northeast dear, tis not the best time for a question of that sort,” but Sue was getting too angry to hear her words.
Her eyebrow twitched as her former crutch hand tightened, her response enough to take Spark aback—“Do I look like I fucking know?” All the pent up stress inside Sue’s head was already looking for an outlet, and being asked dumb, borderline insulting questions only cranked the pressure valve up even further.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Despite her forceful tone, Northeast still hadn’t gotten the clue, as evidenced by the response that came soon after. “No, you don’t. You don’t seem to know much.”
...
...
“Northeast—”
“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!?” Sue shouted, the blood rushing into her head eclipsing all other sound.
The silence that followed her outburst was near deafening, even outside the medic’s cabin. As the outside noises returned, so did a semblance of clarity—and with it, the creeping realization of what she’d just done, underlined by the displeased shock of everyone around her.
For once, that group included the white and navy cat too. Her distress was at first slight, but then quickly grew afterwards. The first emotions Sue actually felt emanate from Northeast, and of course it was sadness caused by none other than her. Before her self loathing could fully get going, she jumped slightly at finally seeing a movement in her peripheral vision—
And watched the psychic cat run out of the clinic, teary-eyed.
I just blew up on a fucking child, haven’t I.
There were many things Sue knew she should’ve done in that situation, many ways to show a semblance of maturity, even following what she just did. She didn’t have it in her to do any of them, though, not in a state like this—and so, she ran out too, fighting back her own tears as she shambled away, towards the clearing.
Towards somewhere to sit down at, somewhere to eat at, away from what she’d done. Every single rational part of her might’ve known that even in the worst-case scenario, she’d only insulted someone. Nothing serious—at worst it’d result in bad blood going forward and life would keep moving on.
But fuck if I didn’t need that to happen right now.
She hadn’t even realized she’d arrived at the clearing until a loud bark snapped her out of her ever tightening panic spiral. Suddenly she was somewhere else, shaking with her entire body as she leaned her weight on one of the tables, a handful of tears wetting the rough wood beneath her face. She turned over to see the source of the noise, expected to see someone who would chew her out for that, someone that would administer the punishment she deserved—
And instead, saw Spark climbing first on the benches, and then up on the table, before resuming her attempts to comfort her. Sue whimpered, “N-no, S-Spark, you don’t have to...” but even these words were almost enough to make her break down there and then.
They also redoubled the fox’s efforts, the warm affection making Sue weak and forcing her to finally take a seat. Within moments, the vixen was on her lap, nuzzling her stomach as she spoke with quiet whimpers, trying to reassure her as hard as she could manage. Regardless of whether Sue thought she deserved that reassurance, it was steadily working—enough so to make the once-human pull her friend into a tight hug, all the pent-up tears finally finding release.
All her self loathing thoughts, her fears, her doubts. They were still there; they burned ever stronger, but... Spark was here, too. The lil’ fox couldn’t comprehend a third of the murk that was going through Sue’s head and wasn’t aware of the other third, but she wanted to help with it all.
To help her friend.
The worst steadily blew over as Sue pet Spark, each motion relieving their combined tension tear by tear. Things weren’t great for either of them; they both hurt, but Duckdammit if they wouldn’t at least help their friend feel less sad.
And the other appreciated it more than they could ever know.
Many minutes later, tears finally stopped flowing. Sue opened her eyes again, looking straight down at Spark’s similarly puffy ones. Whether their initial meeting was Fate, random chance, the Forest Guardian body acting up, or something else altogether, they had each other now. “Th-thank you, Spark...” Sue whispered.
*w-woof!*
The incomprehensible response forced a stray chuckle out of her, the unexpected sound helping to relieve some of the stress. And with stress, food helped a lot, too, a lesson learned dozens of times from experience. With a couple of weak pats, the little fox was once more on the grass, letting her friend pick herself back up and look around for somewhere to grab something to eat from. She wasn’t in the mood or emotional stability to be dealing with Hazel again; this place mostly served bugs...
Suppose the ladybug-operated food bank worked as well as anywhere else.
There weren’t nearly as many leftovers inside as when Solstice had taken her there, but there was still more than enough for both her and Spark. The little of her previous visit that Sue remembered included the four-armed ladybug being nocturnal, but that wasn’t stopping them from manning the stall well into the morning. Not without the expected consequences, though.
Even if all Sue could hear with her ears was buzzing, they screamed exhaustion to her sixth sense. Exhaustion, anger, and most surprisingly of all, fear. Fear of what exactly she couldn’t place, not once they had finally spotted her—and grew angrier at the sight. The emotional whiplash made Sue stop there and then, left with no idea how to respond. The ladybug’s compound eyes had narrowed at her in their entirety as their ill will became downright palpable, her fear growing by the moment.
Spark’s woofs soon diffused some of the tension, enough so for the insect cook to at least stop glaring at Sue. Even if they disliked her, she was there for a reason, and it was their duty to dispense food to those who came.
To do anything of value despite their muteness, to make the most out of their crippled existence.
The provided meal was only so in the loosest sense of the word. Sue had reminded herself of the ladybug’s name, Sunrise, just in time to see them slam a couple of harder fruits on the food bank’s countertop, denting one and cracking the other. And then, they lifted a singular arm, pointing straight away from themselves.
Don’t fucking have to tell me twice.
Sue leered at Sunrise as she took the sloppily provided meal, immediately upping her pace to take a seat somewhere well away. She had no idea just what the hell was their problem, but it hardly mattered anymore. It sure didn’t help in the big scheme to have a local be irrationally angry at her, but at the very least, it distracted her moping with some anger of her own for a change.
The cracked fruit was split in half, one part given to Spark once they sat down. With both of them getting their portions, they could get comfortable on the nearest bench and calm down at their own paces, at least in the moment. The past day has been stressful enough to where neither of them really needed any further sources of anxiety, and even something as simple as a slap dashed meal was doing wonders.
Local fruits tasting so much better than anything Sue had back home sure helped, too.
Once she was done recovering from the ladybug’s mute outburst, Sue could finally give it some conscious thought. Just what was wrong with them? They were entirely fine when she’d visited them with Solstice a few days ago; she was sure of that. No anger towards either the Mayor or her, an almost total one-eighty today into being scared, angry, and... sleepless. Too afraid to sleep now and not then, furious at her all of a sudden.
Aside from botching Moonview’s peace attempt, what had she actually done over these past couple of days? It’s not like Sunrise knew of that fact, it couldn’t have been it. Had to have been something they could’ve seen, something eye-catching she did here in Moonview.
...
Or maybe someone that had accompanied her in here—
*tap tap*
If the moment of reprieve had accomplished something, it was helping Sue not jump anxiously at yet another unexpected sensation. Instead, she’d maintained just enough composure to look up from her previous focus—namely, grass—and coming face to face with someone familiar, but also someone whose name she still had no idea of.
The brown spiky pangolin was a part of the builders’ team. She knew that with confidence, but anything beyond that, gender included, remained an enigma. The realization didn’t help any with her anxiety, though, not with yesterday’s events. The builders and Ginger had clearly been at least friends before, and they all saw her yesterday when she was following the lizard around. For a moment, Sue thought she’d look up and see the rest of them surrounding her, getting ready to use their strength to get all the details out of her the hard way.
Instead, the pangolin was on their own for once. What Sue could sense radiating from them mostly matched her own emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, for once no depression, releasing the once-human’s tension before it could build up even further.
A truly refreshing mix.
Sue had no idea why they’d caught her attention, but the kit on her lap could at least try to find out. Her barks and the stranger’s chitters continued for a few moments, with both of them growing more and more unsure by the moment. Something unpleasant was a shoo-in on the account of everything having been unpleasant lately, but the details were anyone’s guess.
Feeble as she might’ve acted, though, Sue did have a way of bridging that gap.
The pangolin knew that, too, miming it out after a moment of deliberation. First, one of the long claws tapped their forehead, then they moved it closer towards Sue’s, keeping the dangerous-looking extremity just out of reach, which her racing heart definitely appreciated.
Sue had no idea whether she was even capable of linking up in her current state. As with most things, though, there was only one way of finding out—the hard way. Once she’d acknowledged their words with a firm nod, she went through her usual routine. Each movement of her aura caused the dull ache in her horn to spike in intensity, but only a little each time—if anything, it was the part of her that was hurting the least.
Ultimately, it only slowed her down and made the resulting connection rougher for both recipients, but still usable. And the stranger was very keen to get some use out of it. “Hear, Guardian?” they spoke up. Their voice wasn’t as rough as Sue expected it to be, having an almost squeak-like quality to it.
It was also distinctly feminine, a fact that Sue would’ve appreciated in literally any other circumstances. “Yes, yes, I can hear you. What’s your name?” she asked, tired.
As with the other times she had to use her patchwork telepathy, the connection was far from clear. Still, that didn’t dissuade the stranger, their momentary confusion getting shook off with a response, “Hoff. Kantaro ‘Sue’ mention.”
Not a kind of name anyone else had in here; Sue had to give her that. Once she’d listened to how the builder had pronounced it, its uniqueness became even clearer. It was a sound of shifting dirt and sand, pronounced entirely differently from either how Hoff or the rest of Moonview spoke.
An onomatopoeia name is new, that’s for sure.
“Yes, I’m Sue. How... can I help, Hoff?”
“Yesterday. You, Ginger. How?” the pangolin asked, and Sue only barely held her composure.
Of course, of course...
Sue exhaled deeply as she braced herself to recount the events again, not finding them hurting any less than before—though at least she wouldn’t get interrupted by an insanely rude cat this time. “Sundance and Solstice went to Newmoon for peace talks, I tagged behind,” she began.
A longer sentence demanded much more focus out of Hoff to decode in full. Judging by her eyes going wide, she eventually accomplished that regardless. “Sundance Solstice Newmoon... alone?” she asked for clarification. “And you?”
Sue hoped she interpreted it the right way, explaining, “They wanted to go alone, and I followed them.” Successful clarification, judging from the sandy rodent’s mental state.
Heard I could get an IOU for a free pat on the back for that one.
“Sundance Newmoon hurt?”
Sue answered with a somber nod, following it up with a clarification soon after. “Juniper hurt her, yes. Only Juniper, though. Others tried catching her, but she escaped.”
Seemed this one was beyond Hoff’s ability to decode, at least if a couple of idle scratches on the side of her head were any sign. Still, she kept trying, asking for clarification. “Juniper attack, yes?”
“Yes, she attacked. Nobody else wanted her to attack. She escaped after.”
Finally, confusion loosened up, freeing up the dirt gears inside the builder’s mind. “Newmoon not want attack. Juniper want attack.”
“Yes, yes, exactly,” Sue nodded firmly. It was small and likely mattered little in the grand picture, but she was glad she could at least help with explaining what had happened, despite her language limitations. Sure wasn’t anywhere near enough to make her outright relax, but... it helped. A lot.
“Newmoon not catch Juniper. Solstice not catch Juniper. Nothing catch Juniper.”
“Juniper ran away, yes.”
The anger that brewed up inside the brown quilled critter was an emotion Sue could really empathize with. Despite the unpleasant context, the kinship was soothing in its own right.
“Fuck bastard fuck shit fucker,” Hoff muttered, her string of mistranslated swears caught Sue entirely by surprise. She only barely restrained her laughter; the held-in chuckles sent her hiccuping, to which the builder asked, “Good you?”
“Yes, yes—*hic*—sorry.”
“No sorry. No bad. What after attack shit bird?”
The second try at holding her amusement in was even harder, enough so to need Sue to breathe deeply for a few moments afterwards to regain composure. Hoff copied her action if for different reasons, inappropriate amusement and entirely appropriate anger evening out into calm-ish focus as Sue continued. “After—*hic*—after the attack, Newmoon helped Sundance. Ginger and Alastor helped carry me and Sundance.”
Finally, the dots were getting filled in, and the pangolin liked exactly nothing of what she was piecing together. “Newmoon not harm. Juniper harm. Newmoon help. Ginger help.”
Four outta four. “Yes, yes, *hic*, yes, yes.”
The confirmation sparked a bunch of emotions inside Hoff, most of them the less pleasant sort. Everything the Forest Guardian had said was relatively obvious in hindsight, but a confirmation was very important, especially with what the builder had heard thrown around. Anything from simple misunderstandings and sheer confusion, to much more malicious versions of the events, for Ginger and Newmoon as a whole alike.
Not that Ginger knew how malice even feels like.
“Thank you thousand, Sue. Need tell others. Many wrong know. I go now,” Hoff spoke before heading off. Her parting words finally stirred Sue’s emotions, pushing her out of the self-protective detachment.
Guess her explanation really was helpful if the builder felt compelled to spread it afterwards. That her version of the events wasn’t the commonly accepted one was worrying for sure, but at least there now was someone else to help spread it. And if she knew anything about the team of builders, soon that one would be upgraded to four, if not five or six. From there... who knows?
Maybe they’d succeed at spreading the truth. Maybe the public opinion was already too calcified to be swayed. Maybe Hoff wasn’t expecting this to work out either and was more so doing this to soothe her own conscience. Sue didn’t know, and to a large extent, she didn’t want to know, either. It’d be nice for someone else to worry about all that for once. What she wanted, instead, was some place she and Spark could try to relax some more, now that they’d wrapped up their impromptu breakfast.
And there was one excellent spot for that they both thought of.
----------------------------------------
Spark immediately turned more lively the moment she realized where they were both heading. Not quite cheerful, not by a long shot, but with her friend around—and soon many more friends too—the scary events of the past day were easier to push through. And once they were all done playing, she’d be able to go back to her mom and tell her about everything that had happened today! Her mom always enjoyed listening to her recollections.
The kit just hoped she could hear them like this, too.
Sue wasn’t privy to the lil’ fox’s exact thoughts, but she could feel the relief inside her clearly. The emotion was soon joined by her own, especially once she recognized who was already present at the oversized daycare—and moments later, both of them noticed her too.
Astra’s soft but mighty cry provided almost as much comfort as Joy’s harsh, shrill one, the latter accompanied by the toothy one running all the way over to her Forest Guardian friend. Joy was right about to hug Sue’s leg before she did a double take at the different set of bandages—and more importantly, at the absence of the ever present crutch. The change was unexpected enough to make her stammer out a single, confused word as she pointed at Sue’s empty right arm.
She’s adorable when she’s surprised.
If there was any upside to Willow unexpectedly taking her crutch away, it was having both arms available for what Sue was about to do.
Joy’s drawn out squeal at being picked up was even cuter than her greeting one, enough so for Sue to even overlook the clinking of the maw’s metal teeth. The little one wasted no time before trying to hug as much of the Forest Guardian as she could from her new vantage point, only really embracing a single shoulder. Her new point of view also let her finally notice the bandage on Sue’s horn, though the brief worry that resulted from that was banished with another hug—Astra’s hug.
Despite catching Sue from the left field, it was no less welcome, especially as it made Joy’s embrace grow even tighter. And judging by how much she weighed despite her tiny size, combined with her being at least partially made of metal, something told Sue that there wasn’t such a thing as a ‘too firm hug’ for Joy.
By the time the dragon let go of the other two and they all sat down, Spark was already way off playing with others, though never stepping too far from her Forest Guardian friend.
Note to self: Arrange a day where I can just pet both Joy and Spark all day long.
The thought brought in no small amusement, made sweeter still by the metal girl sitting down on her lap soon after. Even having her hand grasped by the toothless tip of the scary maw felt more cute than not to Sue by now, despite it still putting her on somewhat of an edge.
She still had her other hand to keep petting Joy’s front head, and that’s all that really mattered—
*tap tap*
Who the fuck is it this time—oh.
While Sue was much more eager to speak with Astra compared to either of the earlier two, she couldn’t help but worry that she’d just be asked the same thing again, killing the mood once more. The recycled excuse of it being a way to help Newmoon out helped a bit, but was really beginning to wear thin, especially with her already being so worn down today.
Suppose she could do it again, this once.
Going through her impromptu ritual was much harder with just one hand, doubly so since it was her left hand that was immobilized, the one she typically used for the part where she tuned out the nearby emotions. Guess if it came down to it, Sue could be extremely rude and pull it out of the maw full of metal teeth, but she would rather not.
Just as the last time she’d practiced this with Solstice, the glare of feelings was almost blinding, unpleasant for her and her wounded extremity alike, but not unbearably so. Bit by bit, Sue went through the parts of her brain that usually tingled when she did the emotion tuning step, gradually inching closer to replicating it arms-free. Bit by bit, the overwhelming light dimmed, until finally, the minds that radiated said glare came into view.
*tap tap*
“Just a moment, Astra...” Sue mumbled through her teeth.
She felt Joy shift on her lap and disappointingly let go of her left hand at the sound, but remained focussed on accomplishing the feat the way she’d initially set out to. She’d honed in on who she was sure was Astra, now to just carefully reach in, push through the pain, and—
“Ow,” Astra hissed.
Guess not carefully enough.
Confirming the noise, a glance over Sue’s shoulder revealed the dragon to be lightly rubbing the side of her head, less injured and more so surprised. Unfortunate, but thankfully only a tiny mishap.
“H-hey, Astra,” Sue greeted tiredly, dispelling any of Astra’s remaining aching in an instant.
The dragon perked up, responding with yet another embrace, much gentler this time, and lifting Sue onto her own lap along with it, the bulky dragon’s leg just large enough to comfortably sit on. “Heya, Sue! Good chat you again.”
“Y-yeah, s-same here,” Sue sighed, closing her eyes.
“Alright ya? Commotion yesterday, heard much, you injured—”
“I-I’m alright Astra, I’m alright,” the Forest Guardian insisted. “Promise.” As alright as reasonably possible, at least.
The dragon smiled. “Phew, relief! Want ask you if right.”
Please, not again...
“S-sure...” Sue whimpered, bracing herself for—
“I force work soon, tomorrow, not have care Joy. Ya could?” Astra asked, derailing her friend’s train of thought.
Sue was reasonably certain she’d pieced together her meaning right away, though that didn’t leave her any less dumbfounded. Suppose if there was anyone who was a good fit for looking after Joy for a few days, it was her, but... just thinking about it made many of the earlier kinds of anxiety creep back in. She wanted this; she couldn’t even pretend she didn’t want that. She’d be tangibly helping people of Moonview out, she’d be spending more time with Joy, she’d be giving the little one the comfort and affection she needs—
But did she deserve this?
After everything she’d done? Was she worthy of getting to fulfill her wants this much, in such a nourishing way, considering everything that had happened yesterday and earlier today—
“Sue?” Astra spoke up again, unsure.
She had no idea, but the ‘caught off-guard Sue’ always went with her gut instinct, and not any well established logical reasoning—and what her gut was saying was loud and clear. “Y-yeah, I’d love to! Wh-when do you leave?”
The dragon’s hug was immediate and immensely relieving yet again, especially when doubled up on by Joy’s shortly after. She didn’t even know whether the toothy girl had actually understood what was said beyond a few bits and pieces, but... she didn’t care. It felt good to be held like this, to have people show her affection, not because she had done something or was someone important, but because she was herself.
It was really, really nice.
“Thank thank thank!” the dragon beamed. “Leave young morning. Joy sleep you.”
Guess at least Sue had the rest of the day to prepare. Solstice’s tent wasn’t the most spacious, but... they’d figure something out. “I can handle that, yeah.”
“Great! Joy, sleep Sue. Sue watch tomorrow days. I leave days.”
The metal girl had an even more scattered comprehension of Astra’s words than Sue, but it seemed she got the gist. Or at least, understood enough to first hug Sue the most she could from her vantage point, and then her other guardian’s nearby paw. She got some more affection in response, so all was good in the world.
Feeling Joy on her lap like this was... comforting, in a way Sue couldn’t describe if she wanted to. Even more so than usual, on a deeper level. More... right. It felt great; it felt worrisome.
It felt like something not for here and now.
Which meant time for a distraction, and to answer one of her own questions. “Astra?”
A look upwards had Sue stare the mighty dragon straight in the eye, the sight utterly nonthreatening despite Astra’s size. “Oh?” the dragon squeaked.
“Why do you need to leave?”
The question made a fireball go off inside Astra’s mind—both at understanding Sue’s point, at getting to answer the young Forest Guardian’s question, and at getting to talk about her job for a moment. With all the motivation she could’ve ever wanted, Astra reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of sheets of paper, together with a couple of wrapped sticks of charcoal. “Make map! Look new lands. New peoples. Root tells look small peoples.”
I don’t like the sound of that last addition.
“A cartographer?” Sue asked, curious.
Astra took a moment to make heads and tails of the complex words, eventually affirming Sue’s hunch with a tentative nod. Quite a cool job as far as Sue was concerned, especially with Astra’s ability to fly so far out she got to make maps. This world might’ve felt uncharted, but its inhabitants most definitely weren’t gonna let it remain so forever.
And of course, a job like that sparked the most obvious follow up. “What’s the coolest place you’ve seen?” Sue asked.
For once, the dragon answered right away. “Divine mountain! Only foot. Very very massive. Needle make crazy!”
“...needle?”
Another immediate response. This time, Astra reached into her satchel and pulled out a round, metal trinket, the color reminding her of bronze or brass. Sue’s suspicion was confirmed moments later, with the top part getting opened up to reveal a rather pitiful, slightly bent metal needle, one end painted red. “Point south!” the dragon explained. “How, wonder. From far, very much far, even Central City.”
Guess it makes sense for a compass to be an artifact. And raises a question of who built it...
“I’ve seen one of these before; that’s awesome!” Sue beamed.
“Is awesome! You awesome! Again thank!”
She should’ve seen that one coming, heh. Silly as Astra’s response was, Sue couldn’t help but feel warmer afterwards. Her heart wasn’t thinking of the dragon as anything more than a friend and there weren’t any inklings of that changing, but this kind of casual affirmation felt... good. It just felt good. She needed it badly, even if she wouldn’t have ever admitted to it personally.
With the conversation dying down, she got a wonderful opportunity to look at what all the other kids around were doing.
The very first little one might’ve been of the very creepy sort, but now that she’d talked with Dewdrop, Sue knew better than to instantly freak out. It didn’t mean she immediately liked the green smiley-faced spider hanging down from a nearby branch, but at least seeing them didn’t instantly send her halfway to a panic attack—as long as they remained there.
Huh, wonder if they’re Dewdrop’s relative?
Further along the scene, a few more familiar faces were present, some of which Sue appreciated seeing more than others. She was entirely cool with the brown donkey whose name she didn’t know and the plant bud-like Petal, but the third member of their impromptu group immediately had her glaring. The pink scorpion-bat noticed her irate expression rather quickly, drawing the other two’s attention to her—only for them to focus back on their friend and speak up louder, the topic of their chatter not particularly hard to figure out.
Apologize to Joy, or, or—
...
Yeah, there’s no finishing that thought in a non-messed up way, isn’t there?
Even beyond her not being able to think of any, Sue wasn’t a punishment kind of person, at least not when calm. She hoped that some of the other adults would come up with something suitable, or just talk it out with the bat—they were sitting some thirty meters away from her and she could still feel their apprehension clearly.
For once, she wouldn’t need to wait long for an idle desire to start coming true. The pink scorpion audibly opposed as the other two called out to Splitleaf, but the leafy mantis knew better than to not intervene. What they talked about afterwards, Sue had no idea about, and didn’t really care as long as it resulted in an apology towards the metal girl on her lap.
Judging by the pink one’s audible opposition, some progress was being made, hah.
At least something good—
...
Right as Sue was about to look over elsewhere, she spotted a bizarre object at the other end of the clearing, near where she sat when they all were here last time. The more she stared at it, the more unnerving the sight got, sending an icy dread through her spine. It looked similar to Comet, but wrong, so very wrong. She couldn’t make many details from this far, but the dimensions were just... off.
A part of her wanted to ignore the unnerving sight, a different part wanted to call for someone who hadn’t stopped using crutches literally earlier today to investigate, but the last part... wanted, no, needed to see what was going on. Even beyond the weird appearance, she felt emotions emanate from that object, and none of the good ones. None of the scary ones, either, just... the sad ones.
Her weakness.
With a couple of shaky breaths, Sue gently lowered Joy down on the well-worn dirt and stood up. Her arms shook, her body tensed up—she was torn almost exactly in half between running towards and away from the not-Comet, but the ‘towards’ side was winning ever so slightly. She remained deaf to Astra’s and Joy’s questions as she took one step, and another, and a third still. Each one shakier, each one smaller, but all approaching the...
Mimic.
The realization made Sue pause mid step as half-chewed bits of pop-culture knowledge leaped to the forefront of her mind. It was about enough to make her run, but soon more pieces fell into place, disproving that half-baked idea. Mimics were supposed to be convincing, whereas this one just wasn’t, and got even less so the closer she walked to it.
It almost looked like a scarecrow.
Dirtied rag for skin, the same kind she’d seen Willow use here and there.
Tattered pieces of green thread for hair, some of it already weaved into the tassels she’d seen Dewdrop carry.
A pair of roof tiles for horns, like the ones suddenly stolen from Granite the previous day—
The realization audibly clicked in place for her, but by then, it was too late. Only a few meters separated her from the fake Comet, and if it were to leap at her, there’d be nobody between them to intervene—she was lured right into its trap.
She could feel its fear, its worry; she felt them almost as clearly as she’d felt her own, but had no idea just what they meant. Were they even actual emotions? Was this entity drawing her in with fake feelings to match its fake body? Sue didn’t know, she couldn’t know, it was something out of a horror movie. Step by step, she slowly backed off from whatever the hell it was, and to her terror, her movement was finally enough to make it move.
Or rather, twitch.
Whatever was inside the doll-like body inched forward towards her in a messy, uncoordinated way, one part at a time. All the while, it tried to keep the rest of its disguise in one piece, even as it shook and lost balance.
It managed all of two feet before collapsing forwards.
Sue let an involuntary yelp at seeing its head roll off its body; the fruit that the roof tiles were impaled in immediately coming into view as the fake green hair scattered all around the small patch of sand. The disguise was gone in seconds, replaced by a mess of individual items—and a single, quivering being, hiding underneath an off-white rag.
As pathetic as the sight was, it paled compared to what her sixth sense was showing her. Its sorrow had turned into heartbreak, fear into pure terror, the kind which she herself had felt just moments prior. Even with its disguise busted, it wasn’t trying to leap at her in an attack of desperation; it wasn’t fleeing to try its luck again.
It just laid in place, shaking in one spot, its painful emotions ever growing.
It... they…
...
They were crying.