The return to fresh air didn’t have anywhere near as large an effect on Sue’s mental state as she wished it had.
A light gust left her shuddering as she followed Solstice down the stairs, resting one hand on the wall of Sundance’s dwelling, just in case. Her injured leg hurt a bit with each step, but she managed. Between the uneasy discussion at the vixen’s house and the earlier scares, the ever-winding worries made it hard to focus on bodily sensations.
Neither Forest Guardian was oblivious to their shared troubles, either. And yet, they remained silent, hesitant to look at each other in their current state. Praying under their breaths that the murk coiling inside their heads would just slither away on its own in time. Anything but facing it. Facing each other.
Thankfully, they wouldn’t be sentenced to a silent death march—not with the door to the dwelling downstairs from Sundance’s den opening right as they got going. The younger Forest Guardian paid little attention to the movement in her peripheral vision, eager to get this done with as fast as possible. The older one, though, wanted to check up on the craftsbug just heading out of his house. “^Good afternoon, Kantaro.^”
The familiar name finally grabbed Sue’s attention, redirecting it onto the bipedal beetle carrying a large chisel and several pieces of carefully cut limestone. His movements weren’t as steadfast as the first time she saw him, but he was managing, to the relief of both of them. “Afternoon, Solstice,” he answered, grunting as he corrected his hold on the off-white stone.
“^How are you holding up?^” the Mayor asked as the three of them got going, the memory of Root’s furious outburst still fresh in her mind.
“I’m doing well. The incident at the Pale Lady’s shrine may have hurt my pride and body alike, but I am recovering fast,” he added, his occupied hands twitching as if praying at the mention of the lunar deity.
Solstice put on the most confident smile she was capable of, glad to have at least that relief. “^That is great to hear, thank you.^”
“The knowledge we have avoided the worst helps, too.”
Sue shivered, feeling the group’s attention be drawn to her at the beetle’s remark; the ordinarily neutral sensation turned unnerving with everything going around in her mind. She nodded shyly as she held Twinkle closer to her chest. The tiny ghost wasted no time wrapping their tiny tentacles around her hand, squeezing it as strongly as they could. She mumbled, “Y-yeah, we have.”
Kantaro continued, “You are a strange one... Shu-eh? Sh-khae? Su-u-eh. I suppose the old truth of the value of an outside perspective is no less true here than it had been back at my hive, though. Even if I would never have thought you fierce enough to stand up to Root, you did so anyway. For that, you have my gratitude.”
The praise might’ve been veiled in stiff wording, but as far as Sue could tell, it was in earnest. She hadn’t gotten any better at taking those over the few days she’d been here, resorting to a nervous chuckle and an awkward nod as Solstice spoke up. “^Indeed. If not for her, I don’t know what would’ve happened.^” Her voice was slow, regret in it heavy enough for even the mighty beetle to hear clearly. Still, she tried to not draw any more attention to it. “^What’s the status of the broken wall at Her shrine, Kantaro?^”
The craftsbug wasn’t a fan of the clumsy misdirection, but the topic being invoked grasped his interest immediately. “To the best of my knowledge, it hasn’t been touched since it fell over. As of now, I have no plans of doing anything with it, or moving it anywhere.”
Solstice nodded absentmindedly, glad that at least that mess hadn’t gotten any messier overnight. “^I see. How… how difficult would it be to put Night Father’s monument back together, d-do you reckon?^” she asked, wrestling with—and defeating—her leftover discomfort with each word.
Sue watched as Kantaro moved his less-occupied arm closer to his stomach, rhythmically tapping his claws against the dark blue chitin as he thought the idea through. “Highly challenging at the best. Between previous weathering and the complex shattering, I imagine I would have to recreate a substantial part of Night Father’s relief. Even that presumes the ability to repair the slab without the result turning unsightly or non-uniform. Furthermore, even discarding all the aforementioned issues, not even I am bold enough to deface Her shrine by removing the other half of Night Father’s old monument.”
Not what either the stonesmith or the Mayor wanted to hear, leaving them chewing through the problem in silence. Sue was the furthest thing from knowledgeable about the full extent of the grudges between Moonview and the night kin, but she figured her suggestion wouldn’t be too controversial. “Sounds like you’ll have to just ask Newmoon, right? I guess some of them will want a new shiny shrine, but others will just want their old one back, even if it’s not as pristine as it used to be.”
Kantaro nodded. “That does appear to be the best course of action, yes. I’ll ask Ginger about it tomorrow after we deliver the supplies.”
The change of topic brought the older Forest Guardian out of the uncertain confusion she had been in, forcing a shaky, hurried nod. “^Yes, that—that’s true. About the supplies, what’s their status with your team, Kantaro?^”
“Daisy has been preparing stone for Newmoon since daybreak, and the last I checked, she’s still at it. She threatened to tie our limbs together if we bother her, which leaves us preparing lumber in the meantime,” the beetle answered, almost sneaking in a chuckle here and there.
Sue’s weary mind didn’t appreciate the mental image of a blue mini-godzilla twisting her spindly body into a pretzel, hurriedly shoving ‘don’t bother the grandma rhino’ into her mind as Solstice continued. “^How much stone do you reckon we’ll have for Newmoon by tomorrow morning?^”
“More than we’re capable of transporting.”
The Mayor sighed—guess that was the ultimate limit on how much aid they could even hope to provide. “^I see. That’s good to hear.^”
“In the worst case, we’ll just have to make that trip several times,” Kantaro remarked, his expression approaching a smile. “I doubt Granite and his team will mind much.”
Considering how affectionate the builders were towards Ginger the last time they got to meet... yeah, that tracks.
“^Thank you for your input, Kantaro. Sue, we’re almost at Dewdrop’s shack, it’s just up ahead.^”
Solstice’s comment jolted her pupil out of her autopilot as Kantaro continued to walk straight ahead, towards the builders’ current work site. Most of said group was busy cutting wood down to size, even the team members that rarely worked with trees. The sight made Sue realize that, even despite having not interacted with them much, she was familiar with them enough to tell someone was missing. The gray four arms—Granite—was present, the spiky brown pangolin—Hoff—was present. Even the gray bipedal rhino, their name still unknown, was nearby, chatting with Patina—
“Oi, Bedrock, trying to romance everything that moves again? Or angling for Celestica this time?” Kantaro hollered, his low tone cutting through the crowd. Neither his fellow workers nor Patina spared the rhino their amusement as he grumbled under his breath. Sue was uncomfortable with the situation for as long as it took her to sense that the now-named Bedrock didn’t really mind, taking the ribbing in stride.
Guess a sensible chuckle wouldn’t be out of line here.
As the two Forest Guardians giggled and the bagful of ghost attached to one of them grew confused, the older psychic realized there was someone missing from the scene. Nothing she would mind normally—the less she had to micromanage people, the better. Still, having anyone be missing when the rest of their team was diligently working on Newmoon’s supplies was... odd. “^Hmm, where’s...^” Solstice cut herself off, rocking her head as she tried to recall the youngest builder’s name, to no avail.
It was only at that point that Sue also noticed the absence of the last member of the builders’ band, the insect-looking robot that acted weirdly apprehensive towards Ginger. Even putting aside their odd appearance considering how little metal there was to be found elsewhere in Moonview, their past actions got Sue just as focused as her mentor, scanning her surroundings—
“Oh, Chisel?” Kantaro cut in. “She’s... away, somewhere.”
The four-armed Granite perked up at the mention of his crew member. He stilled the saw in his many arms before speaking up, voice like a rock slide, “At the mill, boss! Been carryin’ all the wood scrap there for paper makin’!”
The beetle nodded with his entire body, satisfied. “That makes sense. That answers your curiosity, Solstice?”
“^Yes, thank you. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to head over there ourselves later and fetch the paper Sundance asked for,^” Solstice added, voice unfocused.
With the last question answered, the two psychics parted ways with the craftsbug, exchanging a handful of waves each towards the builders’ squad. If their responses were anything to go by, though, there was one Forest Guardian they were much more enthusiastic about, and it wasn’t the Mayor. Fortunately, the realization couldn’t quite worm itself into either Sue’s or Solstice’s psyches.
Both of them were already full of other unprocessed junk.
Dewdrop’s shack turned out to be larger than the choice of the name implied, though not sturdier. With all the walls made from long, thin branches weaved between wooden beams, it looked just about insecure enough to be blown off the face of Moonview with one firm gust. It wasn’t its outside what the group was interested in, though. Solstice gently knocked on the door before backing off a step and a half, with Sue following in tow.
Having the opportunity to brace herself for the red spider’s appearance helped immensely in preventing another freak out on Sue’s end. The impulse to hit the legs once Dewdrop had opened the door and peeked out from under the top of the door frame remained as strong as ever, though. He greeted, “Good afternoon, Solstice, Sue, ...unknown guest on Sue’s front. How may I help?”
As Sue looked down at Twinkle, realizing they’ve been holding her with their tentacles for a while now, Solstice picked up the conversation. “^Hello, we’d like to grab some materials for this little ghost here.^” She smiled as she nudged her head towards said ghost, Dewdrop’s eyes narrowing at the sight.
“How curious. If you’ll forgive me, though, I would like to finish my current weave before digging into the inventory. I assure you, it will not be long.”
Neither Forest Guardian minded, with the Mayor giving Dewdrop an eager go ahead moments later. In the blink of an eye, he was out of view again, withdrawing into the depths of the shack—the depths that Sue’s position gave her a good view of.
A loom the size of a car spanned the entire width of the shack, most of it filled with a silky white thread. Sue knew nowhere near enough to have an exact idea about how they worked—but Dewdrop did, and he was rocking it. The two rows of upright threads kept wriggling back and forth as he kept spinning and threading his silk between them, using his front horn and agile legs in place of manual tooling. The rough wooden frame on the edges of the loom gave him room to maneuver. Which he did, with his entire body, not letting the thread stay still even for a moment.
His busy and too-jittery-for-Sue’s-comfort work was certainly eye-catching, but it wasn’t the only sight to be seen in his shack. Off in the corner and under the floorboards laid several spools of material, the latter peeking out into view out of their sheer excess. An array of shelves rested on the opposite wall, its numerous bowls, bags and bottles filling the cramped space with a somewhat chemical scent. Sue really, really hoped the spider didn’t actually sleep in here.
The last sight forced Sue to crane her head past the door frame to spot it; attached to the shack’s front wall. A much smaller loom rested there, currently unused, and next to it, a contraption that reminded her of a primitive spinning wheel. It was being worked on by the green smiley-faced spider Sue had seen a few times by now. Not a definitive proof that they and Dewdrop were related, but it was a solid indication—
“Tassel, how’s the last spool going?” Dewdrop asked.
A high-pitched, clicking voice answered soon after, “Almost done, dad!”
Guess that solves it.
“Good. Almost done here, too. You’ve done a lot today, I’m proud of you.”
The smaller spider didn’t answer with any words that Solstice could readily translate, but the repetitive chittering sound certainly felt happy. Unnerved as the two spiders still made her, by reasons beyond their control, it was nice to feel that affectionate warmth here. It, together with Solstice’s reassuring presence behind her, made it not even that difficult to keep on watching Dewdrop put his entire body into his work—including the two... limbs on his back, their actual purpose unknown.
And judging by Twinkle’s confused mind easing out into a silent focus, they were enjoying the spectacle, too. Sue’s hand absentmindedly navigated towards them, gently cupping the bundle of ghost. The constant stream of stimulation made it easy to suppress the dour topic from earlier for that bit longer—
“Hello, miss!”
The cheerful, hissing call came from mere inches away from her, launching Sue into the most uncoordinated backstep of her life, avoiding falling straight onto her vulnerable back by the virtue of multiple deities watching over her. Probably. The mental image of the green spider the size of her head silently hanging from a thread beside her before deciding to finally greet her almost sent her into a panic attack there and then. But only almost, Solstice’s hand on her shoulder soothing her psyche enough to avoid that.
Right, she had to greet them back. “H-hello there, uh, Tassel? Y-you—you surprised me a bit, is all.”
The green spider nodded eagerly at the mention of his name, the angular momentum making him slowly turn around on his thread. Before he could respond himself, though, his dad stepped in first, clarifying the situation. “Tassel, this is Sue, the Forest Guardian I mentioned to you a few days ago.”
Tassel’s initial reaction might’ve been a couple of slow, confused clicks, but it didn’t take long for the realization to come crashing down on him. “Eeeee I’m sorry! Are you okay? Dad told me a wildling cousin attacked you and I never asked if you were okay! I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”
Sue stared at him in silence as she processed his words. She was simultaneously touched by his concern, yet glad he hadn’t previously asked her about her… experiences with their kin. Her first proper meeting with Dewdrop was tense enough, even with both him and Solstice doing everything possible to soothe her scaredy self. Having someone much younger, much more energetic, much less preoccupied with matters of personal space might’ve had her heart just stop on the spot.
Wonder if any of the electricity-controlling locals would’ve been able to defibrillate me.
Still, Tassel was clearly trying his best, and with one portion of Solstice beside her and seven portions of deep breaths, Sue had enough calmness in her to answer. “I-I’m okay, thank you. It... hurt a lot, yes,” she muttered, looking down at her bandaged leg, “but I’m getting better now.”
Tassel clicked his mandibles happily. “Yay! Why didn’t you fight them off when they attacked you?”
A long, heavy silence filled the space around the shack, the question one nobody was expecting—definitely not in this blunt a form, at least. The younger Forest Guardian tried to put something together and think back to Solstice’s pretend story for her, but to her relief, the Mayor had her back. “^She got taken off-guard, Tassel. It’s not always easy to sense approaching threats when you’re already dealing with a lot.^”
Sue held in a chuckle at her mentor’s fib—it was almost the exact opposite, really. She remembered how easy it was to sense that beast when it took off after her, how starkly bright Spark’s fear was. Sensing these wasn’t ever an issue. Doing something, on the other hand...
Thankfully, the lil’ spider took the explanation at face value. “Okay! Oh—who is that? Are they attached to you and sucking your blood?”
I beg your pardon.
“Tassel, please don’t pry into matters like that,” Dewdrop chastised.
The green spider shook his body to the sides, radiating worry as he continued to spin on his thread. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
“^It’s okay, Tassel—but no, Twinkle here isn’t doing anything like that. They’re just holding Sue,^” Solstice explained, simultaneously amused by how morbid the question was and concerned for Sue’s increasingly weary headspace.
“Ooohhhhhhh. I see!”
Whether he actually understood what the Mayor meant was up in the air, but Sue was more than happy for that answer to put an end to further questioning. She took another step back and breathed heavily, trying to center herself with Twinkle’s help. Sure, this little trip to grab fabrics hadn’t been the most... serene so far, but she hoped that she’d be able to get her bearings soon and avoid adding further fuel to the dumpster fire going on under her skullcap.
Would’ve been nice, for a change.
Dewdrop was done with his weave soon after, giving it one last look all around before climbing off the loom and finally reaching into their makeshift storage. Sue tuned out much of the exact discussion of sizes and amounts, unfamiliar with Moonview’s measuring system and hoping her mentor remembered everything Sundance had told them both. The two spiders worked together to measure and cut off the required amounts of materials. The realization that even their legs were sharp enough to effortlessly cut fabrics didn’t sit quite right with her.
Around a square foot of un-dyed silk, four square feet of off-yellow linen, a thumb-sized roll of sturdy thread, and a couple of small dye pouches. If everything worked out well, these were all the ingredients needed to make one small ghost happy, the mental image warming Sue’s soul. She wondered how it felt for them to be in a form like this after having lived their past life as a much more ordinary creature. Were they uncomfortable, deep down? Sue couldn’t imagine them not being so, but she was uncertain about the intensity of that emotion.
Would they ever be happy like this? Would their external appearance being closer to how they remembered themselves help much? Would the outfit just be a metaphorical bandaid on top of a goring wound, momentarily helpful but ultimately only adding to all the festering sadness underneath? As with so many things, no solid answers, no way but to try their best and find out the hard way, and if that doesn't work, keep exploring other ideas.
A determination Sue was well familiar with, though which she had a hard time applying to more than the most urgent college assignments back in the day. Maybe that’s what she needed, to focus on solving the issues troubling her—at least the ones that could be solved. And if only she had any idea how to ‘solve’ her thoughts veering into more and more unpleasant areas over the past few hours, she might’ve even tried to put her hypothetical solutions to action. But she didn’t, and she couldn’t. And so, she was forced to, yet again, distract herself.
Thankfully, an obvious tangent presented itself, one that was simultaneously apparent but which she hadn’t really investigated much. How was she finding her own body after over a week? It was perfectly serviceable as far as basic locomotion went. Weaker and slower than she would’ve preferred when going up the stairs, sure, but walking was long solved by now. Or at least, ‘solved’ on a subconscious level, with what remained of her human programming having adapted to walking on two points impressively fast.
Even acknowledging that these were two points and not just feet, and that her leg anatomy was wildly different from what she once had was... unpleasant, but that didn’t matter. Her legs were working, her arms were working, she could get around, she could fiddle around and occasionally embarrass herself with her psychics. She was entirely functional. How she felt about it all, how these feelings were affected by all the adjacent mental murk, including the very topic that has been gnawing at her all day—that was a secondary concern. Something to be pushed away with stimulation and distraction, swept under the rug until it solved itself.
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Because to acknowledge that it did was too painful to even imagine—
“That is all you asked for, right?”
Dewdrop’s question provided a lifeboat Sue’s mind greedily latched onto, shaking after being brought to the edge of a bottomless pit. She had no idea when exactly her eyes had grown so damp or her chest so tight, but that was something for later. Solstice’s concerned glance in her direction wasn’t reassuring, but the words that followed were, mostly because of their mundanity. “^It seems so, yes. Thank you, Dewdrop, Tassel. Apologies for interrupting your work.^”
The red spider shook his head off to the side, chittering slowly. “It is of no concern, Solstice. I am glad to help a little unexpected newcomer in need. They’re certainly the nicer of the sudden guests lately, no doubt,” he grumbled, the allusion not missed on either Forest Guardian.
The Mayor shuddered at the attention being drawn to her relatives, worry about whether they had hurt someone during their visit flashing through her mind. She interrupted her absentminded nods, sighing, “^Apologies. I hope they haven’t been too much trouble today.^”
Dewdrop clicked his mandibles a few times, shaking his body to the sides in response. “If nothing else, they’ve at least been keeping their distance. Unpleasant as they all are, if they limit themselves to just snarls then they’re not that much worse than the other reactions I’ve seen in Moonview throughout my stay here.”
Sue winced; her mentor sighed. The older Forest Guardian was much too aware of the less-than-ideal treatment of some of her town’s inhabitants for these words to affect her much. It was unpleasant, but said unpleasantness was neither new nor hard-hitting. Not anymore. Much the same was true of the Forest Guardian visitors, and Sue had already picked up on that—which shed light on an unsightly question. “Why not get rid of them? Solanum and the—the o-others...” she muttered, heart rate spiking near the end despite her best efforts to keep herself calm.
It was a good question with the same fate as almost all good questions—a disappointing answer. “^Not everyone cares about them as strongly, unfortunately...^” Solstice sighed.
Her pupil raised her eyebrow. “Even with them being this... unpleasant to be around?”
“If we banished people for being unpleasant to be around, we’d end up splintering into more groups than I can count to before the day was over,” Dewdrop chuckled, the clicking sound not particularly reassuring. “It would no doubt be appropriate for that particular group, I do not disagree on that. I am not everyone, however. As many of my friends as there are that wouldn’t flinch if I were to ask them to chase Solanum away themselves, there is an even larger group that simply does not care strongly enough. I suppose I understand their point—boorishness is no cause for exile in itself.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“^And that’s without even mentioning the ones that still hold them in high regard...^”
Solstice’s remark made Sue shudder, the idea nauseatingly offputting. For a second she wanted to raise her voice about it, press her mentor about which awful neighbors seemed it fit to hold Nightbane to a regard placed any higher than the bottom of hell... but it didn’t take long for answers to trickle in. Both in the ever disappointing specifics, and in the broader groups.
Duck’s chosen my fucking ass.
Trying to stop herself from getting any more upset about it, Sue just sighed, admitting defeat with a weak nod. The sight added another to Solstice’s growing list of concerns about the younger Forest Guardian. Before either of them could act on it, though, Dewdrop continued the Mayor’s point. “Or those that are afraid of them, even. I suppose it is much easier to just endure their visits than to stand up and do anything about them, especially with said visits being just days separated by years. Incredibly unpleasant days, days that occasionally make me wish that my kinmate who had attacked Sue would’ve waited a few more days for a better target... but still, only days.”
“So it’s just not worth the effort?” Sue asked, too tired for there to be any mockery in her voice.
“Broadly correct, yes.”
The younger Forest Guardian nodded absentmindedly. As she stroked Twinkle’s bag, the ghost shifted their attention from the shack to their caretaker, cloudy emotions turning to uncertainty. She doubted they were catching the emotion from her in the way the Forest Guardians did from others—that sounded like a runaway reaction in waiting. They were probably just noticing the changes in her voice, posture, even motions. All the things she could individually control when actively focusing on them, but which nonetheless slipped out of her the moment that focus ceased, or when it was time to lower her guard.
A guard that, despite having already been lowered a handful of times in the past few days, was still as high as it ever got.
“And all this is even without taking enforcement into account,” Dewdrop smirked.
His words caught Sue’s curiosity for just long enough to keep her thoughts afloat, naturally giving way to a question. A question that Solstice was already answering, telepathic words elaborating, “^Indeed. We’ve never had to descend into combat to enforce an exile in the past, and while I hope we’d be able to avoid it with Solanum and Nightbane... a part of me doubts. They may be cowards, but they’re nothing if not cocky—even if they’re acting on their own, without our tribe’s backing. Their skill and strength wouldn’t come close to offsetting the numbers disadvantage when taking all of us on, but I can’t discount the possibility of them thinking it could. Ultimately, just yet another reason an exile would be a bad idea.^”
The pretend battle from a few days ago was more than enough to relegate the idea of an open combat between anyone here firmly into the category of ‘nightmare fuel’. Sue certainly wasn’t itching to even encourage it, but Solstice’s wording still caught her attention. “They’re acting on their own?”
The older Forest Guardian nodded intently, the fact almost reassuring her at least a bit. “^Indeed. Not for the others being any better, though. To the best of my knowledge, the rest of the tribe sees all this as an impure, dishonored family desperately trying to claw back their standing by either exacting revenge on me, or by taking Comet back. I’d say ‘good luck with that’, but... *sigh*. Best not taunt Fate.^”
With that desperation in mind, the threats Solanum had shouted earlier today felt much less harrowing. It was one thing to have an entire army threatening them with their deity’s wrath; it was another to have that threat be just three people, only two of whom appearing intimidating at all. How much harm could just two people cause, after all?
...
The more Sue thought, the more she realized she really didn’t want to see that question answered. She shook that idea off. “Back to the topic of exile—what about the Night Kin? Did they all just leave willingly?”
Solstice endured the hit to her psyche, only flinching for a moment before sighing, “^Thankfully, yes. I—I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if they stood up and fought against that verdict, how many more lives would’ve been pointlessly lost...^”
“It would not have seemed pointless for them at the time, I presume,” Dewdrop added.
The chilling theoretical didn’t last long inside the group’s minds, banished into the same dark corner of the psyche that held visions of the loved ones’ deaths, be they nightmare or worse—memory. Sue was more than fine not touching that entire subject again for as long as she remained here, but... there was still a question on her mind. One that immediately arose once she’d tried imagining a similar situation in her own world. “Wouldn’t there be someone to keep them from stepping foot in Moonview if they got exiled? Solanum and the rest, I mean.”
The question drew the attention of the spider and the psychic, leaving both uncertain. “^Keep them from stepping foot in what way?^” the latter asked.
“If you can exile people, isn’t there someone here who would enforce their exiles, or act when other laws are broken?”
I sincerely hope I’m not about to poison their minds with the concept of cops.
“I do not see why we would need that,” the spider remarked, baffled at the idea. “It’d be an awful waste to lay all that on even one person, to task them with either doing nothing all day or with staring down their neighbors with a distrustful eye.”
Sue knew full well that anyone in that position would end up doing much more than just these two actions, none of them good—but so did Solstice, much to her pupil’s surprise. “^I believe I know what you mean. When they weren’t fighting, the warriors of my tribe were tasked with ‘standing guard against night kin corruption’. In practice, all they ever did was harass those less ‘pure’ than them and especially outsiders living nearby. Sundance has seen it play out like that on her journeys too, if memory serves. And on top of all that... we do not have formalized laws here to enforce in the first place.^”
Now that was something Sue wasn’t expecting. “Really? But—but why?”
Her mentor shrugged. “^It’s not a conscious decision, merely a fact. There weren’t any specific laws when this settlement had started to expand from just being the dwelling of Willow’s clan, and nobody since has seen it necessary to formalize a set of laws—and neither do I. We’re doing fine without them. I’m guessing you—^” Solstice began before stopping herself, course correcting before Dewdrop figured out anything was amiss. “^I’m guessing your clan had a charter like that in place?^”
Her pupil nodded uncertainty, though ‘charter’ felt like a woefully inadequate word for the entire penal code. The Mayor continued, “^So did mine. It hasn’t always had one, though. It used to be small and self-contained enough for tradition and social pressure to be enough to keep people in line, though that changed as outsiders began to move in.^”
Definitely not something Sue would associate with what she knew of Solstice’s clan so far. “Th-they didn’t strike me as someone particularly accepting of outsiders…”
“^They aren’t, no. But their surrounding area was clear of predators, much more of it than they themselves could ever hope to use. Before long, other kin had thought to settle in that relatively safe stretch of land—and my clan figured it could take advantage of that. Take the traditions they already had, formalize them, and enforce them upon everyone living nearby. Tithes, offerings, deference towards their ‘superiors’, both Forest Guardian and of other kin my tribe held above theirs. A cudgel to be used against those deemed lesser, enforced at the warriors’ whimsy.^”
Sue wasn’t entirely sure how to react to Solstice’s words. Sure, laws were absolutely chock full of clauses whose sole purpose was to either hurt people or to let the truly evil get away with a slap on the wrist. But to take a leap from that to laws being inherently unnecessary... was just a few steps too far for the once-human. “I-I’d be lying if I said that laws weren’t abused where I’m from, sure, but fairly applied laws are more often used to enact justice on those that had done truly evil things. Maybe not always the most thorough justice, no, but at least some consequences.”
“^Fair application sounds like it’d be a problem there,^” the older Forest Guardian chuckled.
“I-I won’t say it isn’t, but it’s better than no laws—I think, at least. Like, without them I am unsure how does Moonview deal with, say, murder.”
Sue’s point got the two other adults thinking while the smaller spider and Twinkle locked eyes. Tassel was only barely following the boring adult conversation, much more curious about the kinda-bag-but-also-kinda-leech-shaped stranger. Sure, they might not have actually been sucking the psychic’s blood—at least if what Mrs. Solstice said was to be believed—but they looked like they were doing it! And that was just as important! Looks were everything, after all.
Guess them waving back at the little spider looked unlike what a parasite would do, but maybe that was just another in their arsenal of tricks to blend in better? It was fun to imagine. Maybe he’d even get to befriend them sometime? He couldn’t imagine what a parasite friend would end up being like, but the idea sounded cool in his head.
He’d have to ask about the stranger some time later, goodness was he tired now.
Dewdrop clicked his mandibles together as he thought. “How many instances of genuine murder have we had over the years? Three?”
“^Three sounds about correct, though I remember Daffodil’s was purely accidental...^”
“Wouldn’t that make it manslaughter?” Sue asked.
Solstice had to focus hard to translate the term, only arriving at ‘unintentional killing’, despite all her efforts. Under that definition, Sue’s question was obviously true—but the mere presence of a term like that caught her attention. “^I see your language has a separate term for that.^”
Sue blinked at the remark, having a hard time conceptualizing there not being a distinction like that. “Y-yeah, of course! Wait, does that mean that the one person who had accidentally killed someone else received the same punishment as the two that did so intentionally?”
The tremble in her voice would’ve been amusing if the topic hadn’t been as dour, forcing a weak laughter out of Dewdrop. “Of course not, Sue. We understand the difference—the two perpetrators that acted in malice were exiled shortly after, the other one... *sigh*, she eventually left on her own. Had an awfully hard time coming to terms with it or forgiving herself, even if most others were understanding.”
That sounded unpleasant, indeed. Though, without there apparently being any laws here, the mention of exile still raised her eyebrow. “Who exiled them, without any laws?”
Solstice chuckled. “^Us, the elders did. We might not have an all-encompassing list of laws and punishments, but that doesn’t mean we are blind to the necessity of any rules whatsoever.^”
“Do you just come up with sentencing on the spot, then?”
“^That’s... an unflattering way to word that, but effectively yes. That’s how it has worked since the days of Willow’s clan.^”
Sue reached up to rub her forehead, not entirely certain whether she’d entirely missed the point earlier with Moonview’s apparent lawlessness. “I—I suppose I don’t know why not at least use those sentences as starting points for laws going forward. The way I’ve always seen it, the biggest reason for laws being formalized was for them to be applied fairly without being subject to biases or whims of the judges.”
“^But does that formality lend itself to fairness?^” Solstice pried. “^A large reason for my hesitance is the inability to describe all the possible factors that could influence a fair judgment, even in something as simple as murder. It being an accident or not is just one intricacy. What if it is done in self-defense? What if it is intentional, but follows an extended period of abuse from the victim? What if the perpetrator was under constant psychic influence?^”
“What if the perpetrator was starving?” Dewdrop added, making the hairs on Sue’s head stand on end.
All of those were valid points that Sue didn’t have a single all-encompassing answer for—but what she did have was some scattered knowledge that felt appropriate. “I-I understand those concerns. I suppose thinking about it, the laws where I’m from were rather extensive for that very reason, to accommodate as many possibilities as possible and be fair with them. In theory, at least. I never knew them well, but to the best of my knowledge, every crime had a range of punishments as opposed to a single, fixed one, to account for the circumstances. I don’t know—I know full well that laws where I’m from aren’t ideal, but I still believe having at least a range of punishments to choose from is better than coming up with it on the spot every single time.”
“^But what if punishment isn’t the right answer at all? What if it would only make things worse, however reserved? I certainly don’t believe there are no circumstances where it’s appropriate, but it feels like too harmful a tool for many, if not most situations. Though, that specific point aside, I get your point about laws being ranges instead of exact punishments. Guidelines, perhaps. I suppose that is a good reason to have them... I’ll have to think more on that point, that’s for sure.^”
Neither Forest Guardian felt any more confident about their position at the end of their conversation than at its beginning—the exact opposite, if anything—but both felt good about having their reasoning be acknowledged.
Unfortunately for that entire tangent, Dewdrop still had some more thoughts to share, as well as one... unfortunate reminder. “Broad guidelines sound sensible. However, I doubt how useful they’d be for the most severe transgressions. The two murder sentences I’ve mentioned only happened after the crowds had already done their deed and exiled the perpetrator the hard way. All the elders’ voice did was affirm Moonview’s collective punishment.”
...
Oh.
Solstice sighed. “^Indeed, that might be the biggest obstacle of all, in the end. It’s one thing to calmly approach insults or theft, another to mediate something everyone will be feeling so strongly about.^”
“Especially when it ties into an already present prejudice,” Sue added, shuddering. There were many, many more things to be said on this subject, of course. And, had she been feeling better, she might’ve even tried arguing for a specific position, however makeshift it was.
Alas, she wasn’t, and she didn’t.
The supremely uncomfortable topic of mob justice was the tipping point, finally convincing her to take a step back and recenter herself. Thankfully, Solstice didn’t immediately notice, lost in the discussion with Dewdrop as the small rolls of fabric and other supplies in her hands accumulated dust.
Unfortunately for Sue, even her attempt to cool herself off wouldn’t go without a hitch. A pretty massive hitch at that—almost tall enough to reach her waist, white and navy in color, and with two tails swaying idly behind her as she turned the adjacent corner.
Her outburst at Northeast had taken a step back in favor of other, even more harrowing topics for Sue to beat herself senseless about, but that didn’t mean it was gone. Or even that it was any less unpleasant than it had been in the immediate aftermath of that unfortunate conversation. The young Forest Guardian shook in place as she stared at the psychic cat, fully aware of what she should be doing—solving that entire mess. The solution was right in front of her, so blatantly clear her brain didn’t even hesitate before screeching ‘GO APOLOGIZE TO HER’ at full blast.
After all, she’d already done it once with Basil, someone she’d been much more viscerally scared of. Why not do that with someone that came off as almost comically harmless? Looks were deceiving and all that; she had no idea how dangerous Northeast actually was—but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t scary in a way the lovable-in-hindsight giant bee had been.
This was so fucking easy; the solution to this entire mess was just a few dozen feet away—and yet, that exact fact made it all the more difficult. Because she already had a chance yesterday to take that objectively correct, straightforward action, and she didn’t. She was too much of a coward to do it then, and her psyche wouldn’t let her forget that, reminding her of her past failures.
With each mental reminder, doing what needed to be done in the present only grew harder and harder—and that was without accounting for all the other insecurities, more than eager to cut in and remind her of Solstice’s past words. Past words, past feelings, all the feelings and things unsaid that had been brewing between them as long as they’d known each other. They were only beginning to truly take form, terrifying in how alluring they were. A dream come true when imagined,
A living nightmare when used as an example of something she wasn’t worthy of.
Because she wasn’t, of course she wasn’t. She was standing there like an idiot, on the verge of tears at the thought of the most basic of courtesies instead of going and finally doing it. She couldn’t; she was too tired, too weak, too pathetic. Just what in the world would Solstice think, what would Aurora thi—
...
The emotional shift in the person she was simultaneously fixated on and terrified of shook Sue out of her anxious spiral. She almost gasped as she focused on what she was seeing, almost ran when she realized Northeast was looking at her over her shoulder. Sue couldn’t sense any emotions accompanying that display, certainly no hostility—and yet, it was too much. She had to get away from there, and she had to do it now.
Without waiting for Solstice, Sue shuddered before awkwardly turning around on the spot and walking away, leg in too rough a state to permit even jogging. Nothing but a slow, pathetic shamble, only her and the ghost wrapped around her chest.
For a moment, she tried to focus on Twinkle as a source of reassurance, lifting her hand towards them and letting them grasp it as tight as they could—but even that backfired soon. It was one thing to take comfort in the hauntling’s trust, but it was something else entirely for even that to fall apart under the crushing pressure of ‘why?’ Why did Twinkle trust her like they did?
She had no answer, and even thinking about it veered into the awful realization that their trust, their care, was unfounded. Yet another being she had manipulated into caring for her, yet another soul that would no doubt leave her alone if they truly knew just what kind of rot sat at the center of her—
“^Sue?^”
Solstice’s alarmed voice finally snapped her pupil out of the ever tightening loathing—for a moment, at least. If nothing else, it nudged Sue to keep her self-hatred under control—she didn’t want to subject Solstice to all the junk in her head.
Noble as the idea was, it ran into the immediate issue of Solstice being subjected to all the junk in her head anyway.
The older Forest Guardian wanted to say something, needed to say something, bring the reassurance her pupil so obviously needed. It wasn’t difficult on its own. Mistakes happened; there was no reason for Sue to be so harsh to herself, yadda yadda. But then, she finally made it to the catalyst behind all those comparisons, the spark that had set the garbage fire in motion—and realized she had no idea how to stop it.
For it was burning inside her, too.
And so, the older Forest Guardian limited herself to weakly patting Sue on the shoulder as they headed off back to Sundance’s dwelling in silence, their respective murk feeding off each other. It was the simplest thing in the world to just stop and be adults and go over what they were feeling and why they were hurting so much. Something that would’ve been, if not trivial, then at least easier in any other circumstances, if it had been caused by any other reason.
By anyone else’s ghost weighing heavy on both women’s souls.
Their silent march, only occasionally interrupted by a sniffle or by Twinkle’s quiet whimper, didn’t last long. Before they knew it, they were already making it up the stairs to the vixen’s dwelling with lesser or greater difficulty, only realizing that Sundance had another guest seconds before they stepped in. And while Solstice didn’t mind seeing that particular visitor... Sue wished it had been anyone but her.
The bouquet medic perked up as she watched the two Forest Guardians step back in, wrapping up her examination of the fiery vixen ahead of schedule. “Ah, greetings, dear Solstice—and Sue! I thought it appropriate to check up on Sundance considering her state as recently as yesterday, but since I have the opportunity... would you mind me taking a closer look, Sue?”
Sundance was presently sharpening what looked like a large needle with a whetstone, rolling her eyes at Orchid’s concern. She was about to speak up in response—but kept her words to herself in the end, the ones responsible for that choice visible in plain sight as they napped, snuggled up in her fur. As comforting as seeing the asleep Comet, Joy and Spark was, Sue knew she had to respond eventually, giving up with a weak nod.
“Wonderful! Pardon my concern; yesterday was intense for everyone, you most of all,” Orchid sighed. As she got closer, Sue sensed the hesitation in her. Too weak to be off-putting, but present all the same. “I have to say, your... display was certainly touching and effective. More flashy than would’ve been preferable, perhaps, but I suppose all our mistakes have to be brought to light eventually, and that was no exception.”
Sue wanted to writhe as the medic examined her; the intent of her comment missed entirely with all the murk plaguing her mind. As far as her self-sadistic psyche was concerned, there was only one thing Orchid might’ve been referring to, a mistake Sue has had two chances to bring to light now, but haven’t yet. Sundance noticed the festering loathing and Sue knew she had, but neither of them wanted to bring it all up. Not with Orchid around, not with Solstice.
Preferably never.
“You appear to be doing perfectly well, fatigue aside! Always a relief to see,” Orchid exclaimed, genuine to the best of Sue’s ability to tell. “Thank you most graciously for having me, but now I must bid you all—”
As unnerving as seeing anyone else pause mid-sentence would’ve been, seeing it happen to the plant-like healer of all people took those gathered even further aback. It didn’t last long, Orchid soon collecting herself as she passed a concerned glance towards everyone in the room. While Sue immediately assumed the worst, resuming earlier beatings about not having apologized to Northeast, the other two women were keen to hear what was up—and their curiosity was answered soon after. “Before I leave, I must ask—have any of you seen or heard of Snowdrop’s present whereabouts?”
Sue paused her self-loathing for just long enough to go through her memories, not finding anything featuring the floating icy performer ever since seeing her in Newmoon a couple of days ago. The other two psychics were similarly clueless, adding to Orchid’s distress, however veiled. “Most unfortunate. I have not heard a word about anyone having seen her since yesterday morning. She had missed her practice session with the rest of her team, something I’ve been told hadn’t ever happened before. I’m certainly not suspecting the worst, not yet, but... an indubitably worrisome situation.”
A weak shudder went through the young Forest Guardian at the thought of something having happened to Snowdrop, especially with Newmoon’s exile finally undone. She tried not to worry about it too much, especially with her utter inability to do anything about it or even meaningfully contribute to any eventual searches for her, but... easier said than done.
As was almost everything.
“I have hope the situation will resolve itself, still. Farewell, Solstice, Sue, Sundance.”
Contrary to the hopes of those gathered, Orchid’s departure didn’t clear up the atmosphere any. Solstice wordlessly dropped off the crafting supplies, seemingly trying to keep her distance away from Sue as they both shuddered in silence.
Sundance’s eyebrow was raised as high as it ever got, the tension in the air thick enough to carve with a chisel and uncomfortable enough for her to have to focus on keeping Comet from waking up. The vixen looked at Sue, then at Solstice, opening her mouth to ask what was going on—only for the Mayor to get ahead of her. “^I-I think I need to go clear my head.^”
Neither her friend nor her pupil commented as the Mayor turned straight towards the door and headed out, taking her share of dread with her as she passed by Sue. The two Forest Guardians didn’t dare look each other in the eye, afraid of what they would end up finding there.
The words that followed helped little, woofed out as quietly as the vixen could manage. “Do you want to talk about something, Sue?”
I want to run until I can’t anymore.
Sue tried her best to weigh the offer, attempting to distill the murk in her mind into a single topic she could talk about with Sundance—but she couldn’t. It was too scattered, too festered, so sensitive to being examined that it threatened to make her break down there and then. Her logical brain reminded her she wouldn’t be able to run from it forever, to which her emotional brain responded with ear-piercing screeching.
She was just too weak for that right now. “I-I don’t know, I... I-I think I could use a walk, too...”
Her words were barely louder than whimpers, striking a wellspring of Sundance’s concern—one the vixen got under her own control shortly after. There was only one person who knew when Sue would be ready to talk again, and that was the Forest Guardian herself. It was not the vixen’s place to rush her. And so, she didn’t, firmly nodding before responding, “That is perfectly fine, Sue. Considering just who’s creeping around Moonview, though, I advise you to stick to someone as you walk, just in case.”
The last thing Sue needed was a reminder that even going out for a walk wasn’t as safe an option as she wanted it to be, but the vixen’s point was valid. “S-sure, just... l-like, follow someone?”
“Yes, that is what I had in mind. Before you leave,” Sundance spoke up, catching her pupil right as she was about to grab the door handle, “would you want to leave Twinkle with me?”
A voice deep inside Sue’s soul cried out, ‘NO!’ at the idea, so attached to the little ghost that the thought of even temporarily leaving them stung fiercely. Said voice was being drowned by a waterfall of mental sludge, however, reduced to a whisper surrounded by a tornado of self-loathing, a tornado that was ambivalent about the idea. Guess it ultimately wouldn’t hurt—Twinkle didn’t deserve to have to deal with her like this, after all. “S-Sure.”
With the ghost untied and passed over, too confused and worried to do much more than withdraw at the realization, Sue finally turned towards the door and left without saying another word. The spot on her chest felt weird, downright cold without Twinkle’s constant presence there—but it was the last thing on her mind as the door closed behind her.
Because now there was nothing and nobody left to stop her from diving all the way into the abyss of her thoughts.
No matter how hard she’d been trying to not think about them, to pretend they weren’t there, that she was just misrepresenting them... Solstice’s maternal thoughts towards her were there, they had been all along. Bright and warm and anxious and conflicted, breeding further conflict inside Sue even at the best of times. Even without doubt and insecurity choking her mind, the very idea stirred dread about what her actual human mom would think about that.
And, even more importantly, what Aurora would think.
This wasn’t fair to either of them, of course it wasn’t! The former would’ve been devastated knowing her daughter just abandoned her like that for some alien, and the latter... would be *furious*, the kind of furious that stirred vengeful ghosts from their eternal slumber. Her mother, her family, her place in life, her house, all up for not just being stolen, but stolen by a clueless, idiotic alien that barely knew what was happening all the time and was woefully inadequate for the other half.
And that’s without mentioning said alien also being too much of a coward to even apologize for shouting at a child.
Sue tried to think back to yesterday’s chat with Sundance, tried to clear the mental hurricane for just long enough to figure out if all this was something she truly wanted, if she really reciprocated Solstice’s occasional feelings towards her deep down—and she couldn’t answer. Even with all her focus, the mirror of her soul was just too unclear, smeared by bile of knowing how unfair it’d be to her mom and Aurora alike, the mere thought of how hurt they’d be stabbing Sue through the heart.
Solstice herself seeming to grow more eager at the idea with each passing day only made that pain worse. Her remark about how Sue had earned the Pale Lady’s blessings was a splinter digging itself deeper and deeper into Sue’s mind, painful enough to where even acknowledging it drove her to tears. She kept trying to not think about it. To seal it away with reminders of none of it being really meant for her, reminders of this not being her world, her religion, her true body, doing anything in her power to just endure it until it finally left,
But she couldn’t.
It hurt so incredibly much, this scar at the bottom of her mind. The pain was made even worse by knowing just how selfish she was, how unfair, how unworthy of it all, sending her physically wincing each time she inevitably ended up circling back around to that mental splinter. She couldn’t stop it. She didn’t want to stop it.
Because there was that tiny, battered part of her, deep inside, that did want it all. And Sue wanted her dead, wanted it all to finally stop hurting—
*rattle, rattle*
The nearby sound was loud and grating enough to snap Sue back to reality, distracting her from her aching body, bleeding soul, and tearful eyes. She watched the red insectoid robot pass by her, the woven baskets they carried in each arm full of sawdust and finger-sized scraps of wood. They paid her no mind, but she needed them more than ever. She remembered Sundance’s guidance about sticking with someone before straightening herself out and trying to follow them. Where to, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Lead me wherever you may, robot bug.
Anywhere but here.