The most awkward part of tearful reunions comes immediately after the tears.

As emotional as the meeting of the two villages was, the practical concerns of several dozen cartload’s worth of gifts took over Newmoon’s attention soon after. That didn’t mean there was no talking or especially no affection—there was, even if not as much as there could have been—but that it had to take a back seat for the time being.

For the most part, everyone involved was entirely okay with that. Even excluding any malicious reasons, many visitors from Moonview didn’t end up exchanging more than a handful of words with the other village. For some, it was because they were still unsure what to say after all that had happened; for others, it was a caring impulse that didn’t want to overwhelm the already-rattled denizens of Newmoon. Some others still just... didn’t know enough to say anything about anyone here. Sue didn’t need to be a local to tell that Moonview had grown a fair bit over the past few years, and they would see the other village as simply strangers. Strangers more than deserving of a charitable act, absolutely, but strangers all the same.

As the Forest Guardian soon realized, Lilly was a part of that group as well. After Sue had gotten off the cart, Ginger asked the leafy dancer to take the cart full of berries further into the village, where it still sat. Once she was done, though, she—and Bluegrass, after he had emerged from their fruity cargo—dashed right back over to Sue, her sudden skittishness downright palpable for the psychic. Could’ve been the leftover tension in the air, could’ve been the unfamiliar territory. Could’ve been something else altogether.

With a nudge, Sue guided them both and Spark further into the settlement, both to have a quieter spot to themselves and to get away from the main thoroughfare. She considered bringing up what her friend was feeling right away, before deciding against it. Partly because she was already doing a good job getting a gradual grip on herself, going over what Sue had told her after the drunken celebrations a few days ago. Partly because the place was loud, and Sue really didn’t feel like trying to raise her voice over the din just to be heard.

Which left waiting until others were done, and that much they could absolutely do—Spark?

Sue blinked after only seeing grassy dirt in the spot the lil’ fox had been just moments prior. She looked around and caught just the tip of her yellow-red tail as it slunk behind some nearby bushes, stirring concern in her. It only lasted for about a second before both her psychic senses and the ears caught up, though. The former was keen to inform her that the vixen felt no less relieved than they did, mixed with an infectious dose of excitement.

The latter confirmed her hunch that Pollux, for all his stealthiness, didn’t seem to be aware of the concept of keeping his voice down.

Before long, the grassy serpent’s worries had calmed down enough to let him at least curl up behind the other two and wait out the rush. With just her and Lilly left to their own devices, the Forest Guardian scooted half a step closer towards the planty dancer, joining her in watching goods be unloaded onto basically every non-muddy flat surface in sight, rooftops not excluded. She hoped it wouldn’t end up raining, and evidently so did the builders—except they were both capable and very willing to do something as a precaution. Ginger included once more.

If nothing else, it was amusing watching them cut an entire thin log into quarters in less than a minute, before using each split part as a stake and attaching one of the large canvasses the convoy had brought with itself to them. The resulting... sunshade was scuffed even by Newmoon’s standards, but like most other things here, it would be likely reused for something else down the line. Sue had the slightest tingle of an idea that the builders only did all this to have an excuse to do something together after all these years. Especially considering Ginger’s unusually energetic sawing.

Good for them either way.

As they went through a hyper-accelerated team(re)building exercise, the rest of the convoy slowly trickled in. Once everyone was done with their cargo, they mostly followed Sue’s footsteps and began chatting amongst themselves off to the side. Some others, acting either out of benevolence or impatience, helped those trying to catch up move their items faster. A handful dared walk into Newmoon proper and have a look around. Solstice, in particular, was keeping the entire process under control, calling everyone individually while psychicing cargo around to the extent her mind allowed her to.

Newmoon’s residents helped wherever they could, but the extent to which they could even do so was... limited. There’s only so fast anyone can pull a cart or carry a bundle of bricks—especially with many of them magically levitating through the air on their own as is—and the unpaved road the convoy had used was already only barely wide enough to accommodate their largest carts. For the most part, everyone willing to help did so on the back end, preemptively sorting the received items amongst themselves or deciding where they should be stored.

That accounted for most of the locals, but not all.

Heather was nowhere to be seen, which Sue couldn’t blame her for at all. Not with how overwhelming dealing with even one person’s emotions had been for her. Alastor’s absence was more puzzling. Though, with the disguises Sue had seen him use with her very own eyes, it was entirely possible that he was helping and just didn’t want so many eyes being placed on him. For a second, Sue thought those were the only two locals unaccounted for—one murderous owl aside—but soon enough she remembered the third, one she’d only ever seen briefly before.

She recalled back to when she woke up here after Juniper’s attack and saw the massive black furry creature known as Jasper reaching his hand towards her, as if trying to touch her. At the time, she was just weirded out. There was too much, much too much going on for her to focus on him specifically. In hindsight, though, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Did he, like Solstice before him, see his daughter in her at that moment? Was that why he was hiding even now, once the best possible news have arrived? Because bundled alongside them was someone he once loved but which had betrayed him, and someone to similar to Aurora?

The thought stung, even if nowhere near as fiercely as yesterday. It wasn’t pleasant, no, but at least it wasn’t crippling this time. She wouldn’t let those fears, those ceaseless thoughts of comparison, take her down. Not today.

Pretty please with a bow on top.

----------------------------------------

Sue couldn’t deny feeling bad after Ginger noticed her standing there like a dummy and brought over a log for her and Lilly to sit on, but her legs certainly appreciated the gesture.

She had no way of knowing how much time had passed by the time most of the unloading was done. Could’ve been an hour, could’ve been two. Either way, more than enough rest for everyone who needed any. Especially for most of the rest of the convoy. Once the first person—High Tide—found it in herself to overcome the crowd’s inertia and start heading home after unloading her share of the cargo, others began to follow soon after. Some left on their own, some in small groups, none of them seeming to mind the long path back home. Some others still needed a while, catching their breath or napping on the forest floor or even having meals they’d brought with themselves. A handful even stayed for a while longer. Not for anything social, but so that they could take the empty carts back to Moonview with themselves once all of them were unloaded.

Some others, though, set out to enjoy their visit, and got to chatting.

Lilly had been growing calmer this entire time, much to Sue’s relief, but her heart hadn’t calmed down all the way yet. Not for a lack of trying either, especially if her holding Sue’s hand and resting her head on her shoulder were any signs. Something told Sue that those were certainly signs of something, but alas; she was illiterate in Moonview’s language. And too flustered to acknowledge what her built-in emotional translator has been trying to tell her. Never a good combination, that one.

Sue considered bringing up the topic of her nerves after she’d reestablished the link with her, but suffered from the perennial issue of not knowing what to say. She doubted she could say anything about the folks of Newmoon that Lilly hadn’t already figured out. All she could really offer was reassurance as her friend’s mind churned through the murk at its own pace.

She couldn’t do much, but that at least was very much within her ability. She held Lilly’s leafy hand that bit closer and leaned her head over hers. The planty dancer probably didn’t even have a heart that could swell in the first place, but Sue had felt it do so anyway.

“Thank, Sue,” Lilly said softly, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, Lilly. You know I’m here if you wanna talk, right?” Sue meant that reassurance in all the ways it could conceivably be interpreted in, but it didn’t take long for her friend to home in on the intended meaning.

She shuddered at that, making Sue scoot that bit closer. “Nervous, I.”

Sue nodded firmly at that, thinking back to their chat before they left for Newmoon. If anything, she would’ve expected the worst of Lilly’s feelings to have hit before the journey began. Though, she supposed it was one thing to think about being here, and another to actually find yourself here, in the territory of people you’ve only ever heard being referred to as enemies. Either way, she was here for her, and Lilly appreciated it more than her words could express, but firmly within Sue’s ability to perceive.

Wanting to extend her affection, Sue reached in to swap the hand Lilly was holding, freeing the one closer to her friend. She then wrapped it around her and pulled her in as close as her feeble physique could manage, pressing most of their torsos together.

The air smelled nice.

“I understand the nerves, heh. I was really nervous earlier too, and have been slowly calming down now. Can’t imagine you’ve ever heard anything nice about Newmoon while living in Moonview,” Sue whispered.

Lilly was almost too preoccupied to listen to what her crush was saying, but she caught onto Sue’s words just in time to not miss their gist. “True, it. Always danger hear. Want trust, I.”

“And I’m sure you will in time!” Sue beamed. “I know that ‘don’t worry about it’ isn’t very good advice, but I’m sure that feeling will go away with exposure sooner rather than later.”

“Hope that, I.”

Lilly meant her words, but Sue couldn’t help but pick up on some of the associated thoughts not exactly being directed towards the subject of their discussion. Before she could figure out the cause, Lilly let go of her hand with one of her own, and reflected her gesture back to her, pulling her in closer while almost breaking her ribcage.

I’m surprised at how nice this feels.

“Much thank, Sue. Happy... happy here you,” Lilly murmured, her voice unusually dreamy.

There was one particularly likely reason for that, and it was one Sue’s thinking did a pristine loop-de-loop around, almost managing to completely evade it. At least, before her thumping heart forced her there anyway, growing her smile three sizes. “I-I’m happy you’re here, too! I’m glad I can be with you here, a-and that I can share all this with you, and...”

Sue froze for a second, heart racing as she considered all her options. The most direct admission of what she was fully realizing deep inside her felt much, much too blunt and uncertain to go for. Not because Lilly would react badly to it, but because she would the next time her worries about ending up back on Earth inevitably sprouted up. They were already difficult to manage regarding what would happen to Lilly, even with her only thinking of the dancer as a friend or a crush at most. Anything more would be as heartbreaking as when these same thoughts veered towards Joy and Twinkle.

At least, that’s what she feared. She neither had the time nor space to investigate these worries right now, though, forcing her to heed them. And so, instead of any direct admission either Lilly or her own psyche could hold her accountable for, she responded with a kiss on the nearest petal of Lilly’s head flower. The awareness of the dishonesty of her thought process may have dulled a fair bit of her enthusiasm from moments prior, but her feelings remained the same.

Lilly squealed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

It also made Sue’s heart skip a beat before her thinking and sixth sense caught up, showering her with high definition emotional warmth from her crush. Just like before, the plant girl was about to return the gesture in kind and then some—but before she could start peppering Sue’s cheek, nearby woofs caught their attention.

Spark was looking confusedly up at them, and she wasn’t alone in that. Behind her, the small gray pup Sue recognized from her last visit here but didn’t remember the name of was acting much the same, tilting their little head one way and the other. Pollux, on the other hand, had a much better idea of the shenanigans taking place, keeping his giggling as quiet as he could.

Lilly didn’t act on either of the kids’ reactions—but the appearance of one of them jogged her memory. “H-hey!” she pointed at Pollux, “Remember you, I!”

Sue had no idea how she expected Pollux to react to that, but audible disappointment wasn’t it. His vocalizations sounded exasperated in a way she had no idea woofs and barks even could sound. Whatever he’d said, everyone else found it amusing. Including one particular grassy serpent waking up from his nap and peeking at the rest of the group from behind the log Sue and Lilly sat on.

“What? Why—oooo hide try, you? Not know when hide you, but remember in trees you. Together others! Here too they?”

Pollux’s expression deflated with Lilly’s every word—and so did her nerves, to Sue’s relief. Her final question had both foxes woof out similar calls towards the surrounding treeline, no doubt calling for the rest of the makeshift friend group. Instead of either Thistle or the crow the convoy had heard earlier, though, it was Daystar that responded to them from a nearby gathering. Judging by the mild surprise Spark had felt in response, it seemed to be an explanation for their absence.

A hunch that lived for around a few hundred milliseconds before Lilly outright confirmed it. “Not around? Hope back soon, they.” She thought back to her recollection of the times she spotted the dark prankster fox, flicking the tips of her arms together in what Sue guessed was an equivalent of cracking her fingers. “One black bird, one small pink?”

Two guesses, two hits, confirmed eagerly by Spark and Pollux alike. The third member of their little trio was more interested in cozying up to Sue’s legs than participating in the conversation. She briefly wondered whether he was just more... feral than the other two in his mannerisms. The thought that filled her with more than a little worry, before she thought back to the last time she saw him, revealing a much more likely cause.

Might’ve looked like a scary wolf pup, but the emphasis here was definitely on the ‘pup’ part. He’d felt significantly younger than even the other kids. Not quite at Comet’s level, but closer to that or Joy than to Pollux.

Together with the confirmation of Lilly’s hunches, the two older kids had also passed along the names of the two absentees. “Rainfall, Thistle? Good know! You?” she asked, pointing at Pollux. “Pollux! Star name?”

The dark-colored fox tilted his head at Lilly’s guess, mumbling under his breath. She paid it no mind, shifting her attention to the gray pup and asking for their name in turn, before confirming it as “Howl”. She was satisfied at that, but Pollux sure wasn’t—and just a couple of woofed out words stirred Lilly into repaying him in kind. “Oh! Lilly I! Sue she! Bluegrass he!”

The introductions were appreciated, already known, and surprising respectively, with the entire group getting caught off guard by the lil’ snake being pointed out—him most of all. He froze at all the attention with a few nervous hisses, before trying to scoot himself out of view, behind the log his company sat on.

Only for Lilly to pick him with all the grace she was capable of and place him in view of everyone, just a couple of feet away. “Hi say to Bluegrass!” The chorus of greetings that followed had the planty reptile almost melt, but it was adorable enough that even Sue added to it, even if only Lilly understood her. She wasn’t the only unexpected voice to join in on it. A very recognizable caw coming from above caught their shared attention. “Rainfall you! Hi!”

By now, Sue was giggling at the antics going on around her, appreciating them much more than the nervousness that preceded them, but less than the fleeting intimacy. Surely there had to have been a way for her to get her hands on more of the latter, even if not now...

“^How are you all holding up?^” Solstice interrupted her pupil’s pondering, snagging the group’s entire attention.

She wasn’t alone, and her company was amusing enough to even distract Bluegrass away from his own embarrassment. Seeing Ginger walk beside her was just about expected, what with them being de facto heads of their respective settlements. Seeing him be carried beside her was a slightly different matter, but one the technicolor lizard himself wasn’t objecting to in the slightest. Could’ve been because he was non-confrontational and somewhat lazy, could’ve been that Poppy’s arms were just that comfortable to be carried in.

One of the mysteries of the world, that’s for sure.

“Great we, meet each other!” Lilly answered, her earlier trepidation almost entirely answered.

“Yeah! And I’m learning I wasn’t as good at disguising myself as I thought I was...” Pollux added with a pout.

Ginger angled his head to face the night kin fox before shaking it in as close to the horizontal axis as he could get. “Nah. You’re good at disguising, Pollux. The issue comes when you get too confident to keep disguising.”

“It gets tiring!”

“Can imagine!” the lizard chuckled, sending the group into reserved giggles.

“Sure sounds like all the more reason to keep practicin’ to me!” Poppy added with a full body nod, inadvertently shaking Ginger’s scaly mohawk like a rattle.

Pollux groaned. “But I don’t wanna practice, I wanna be good at it!”

“^Don’t we all, Pollux,^” Solstice sighed. Despite her own tension, she was holding up well, even if it required obvious effort. It wasn’t lost on Sue—or Ginger for that matter—earning her a reassuring look from both of them.

“How’s dealing with all the stuff going?” Sue asked, genuinely curious.

Ginger chuckled. “Well, it’s on the ground and out of your hands now. Gonna be a lotta fun finding use for it all. Not to say there ain’t none, but I’m not sure if we got enough hands for it all.”

“^I’m sure Granite and his team are itching for an excuse to come here and help you all out some more, too.^”

“Fair point. Though, if we’re gonna make that idea you had about building out the path between us a reality, we’ll need a bunch more hands.”

Solstice paused for a moment at Ginger’s words before leaning back with a silent ‘oh’ and an uncertain expression. “^In all honesty, I had already forgotten about that until you reminded me just now. Not that I didn’t want it to happen, but—^”

“No point dwelling on what’s never coming?” The Forest Guardian flinched and nodded quietly. Ginger had neither the orientation nor elevation to pat her on her shoulder, limiting himself to the only part of her within reach—her forearm. “No worry, know that feeling. And that what we think is never coming has a habit of doing it, anyway. Worth to start planning it out some more once you’ve got the time.”

As much as both Forest Guardians appreciated the lizard’s words, the actual topic he was talking about caught the attention of the rest of the group—and of one little fox in particular. “W-wait, a new path between Moonview and Newmoon?” Spark asked, taken aback in the most positive way. “A bigger one?”

Ginger nodded. “Aye. Not sure how much practical difference it’ll make in all honesty. If nothing else, it’d tell everyone who needs to hear it they’re safe on either end.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

And, as an added bonus, it’ll make it impossible for any more stragglers to get lost on their way here...

The lizard’s explanation took Spark aback as she turned towards Pollux, excitement filling her snout. “Did you hear that, Pollux!? You won’t have to hide anymore!”

“^Already don’t have to,^” Solstice clarified. “^Just that, if we ever build that new passage, it’ll be a much safer path between us.^”

“That’s—that’s awesome!” Pollux yelped, his voice much more emotional than earlier; his raw emotions leaked through both it and a handful of tears. At least, before the rest of his usual facade came back, and with it a nitpick to be faux-disappointed in. “Awww man, does that mean I won’t be able to practice my disguises, then?”

“Ain’t nobody stopping you from that if that’s what ya really want.”

Ginger’s response wasn’t what the kit was expecting, but it was probably what he needed to hear. For a moment, further cheekiness flashed through his features, maw opening as if to tease them all again—before gradually closing and nodding instead. His internal conflict wasn’t missed on his best friend either, with Spark wasting no time before scooting up to him and nuzzling him along his snout. The intermittent grunts somewhat deflated the gesture, but had no chance of making it any less sweet.

Speaking of sweet, downright saccharine things. “So! Heard someone might’ve had a hand or two in this whole mess getting dealt with, eh?”

Sue’s face twisted in the exact halfway point between a smile and a cringe. On one hand, being appreciated was something her soul couldn’t get enough of, yearning to fill the bottomless pit inside her she’d only recently finally put up a caution sign next to. On the other, said appreciation grew exponentially more stressful to experience in proportion to the number of people dispensing it, and having an entire gaggle of children gushing about her... would not go too well. Of course, speaking up to discourage Ginger away from that exact scenario would only further draw others’ attention in—

“^Quite a few people did, I’d say. Here’s to hoping such acts of bravery won’t be required again,^” Solstice cut in, before glancing at Sue. The younger Forest Guardian’s heart skipped a beat before relaxing at the heat being taken away from her. And then; it grew that bit warmer at the look her mentor gave her. Reassurance, a welcomed burst of confidence, but also care, warm and innocent. It felt nice to be cared for.

Moonview’s Mayor’s diversion was about as subtle as a swing with a Wood Hammer to the cranium, but Ginger went along with it. Both because that was what the two lanky psychics clearly wanted, and because he sure didn’t feel all too capable of finding the words that would express the enormity of his gratitude. A cynical streak would’ve demanded that gratitude be itself scrutinized and burned, cut down as something that shouldn’t have even been there to begin with.

A cynical streak that Ginger lacked. “Aye. If the worst comes to shove, you can count on us all to get over there to help however we can, too. Figure it’d be much easier for, say, Thorns to tell Root to swallow his words so hard they’d come out—”

“Ginger~!” Poppy cut in, stopping herself from giggling at the graphic description out of pure willpower.

“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me the lil’ ones haven’t heard plenty worse than that.”

“Worse than—*ow*—what?” Spark asked, drawing the group’s attention to the cluster of kids they were supposedly being oh-so-concerned about.

Pollux kept the flames of his barking laughter under control with deep breaths; Rainfall wrapped one of her feet around her beak to keep it shut. Others... largely just looked around and tilted their heads, the point of the discussion so far above their heads that it threatened to carve through the overhead clouds. Of the two slightly older children, Lilly was following the lil' fox’s lead, and Sue the bird’s—though covering her mouth was a slightly more discreet way of going about it than pinching her lips shut.

“^You will know when you’re older, Sparkie.^”

The fiery vixen groaned—first at being treated like a child again, then at the dull ache in her forepaws. “Pleeeeeease, I’m not a hatchling anymore!”

“I don’t think your mom would like you saying these kinds of things, Spark,” Sue chimed in, hoping to soothe the girl’s disappointment. And while the specifics of her point might’ve been wholly, utterly inaccurate, the lil’ fox still bought in, deflating slightly. Only for Pollux to nudge her away from the rest of the group with his tail, before pressing the tip of his snout into her ear fur and whisper something that Solstice’s translation didn’t cover—

“P-Pfffttt, hahahaha—but also ewwww!” Spark whined, the outburst of sounds and emotion sending her into a hiccup. “You made me imagine it...”

Pollux refused to take any blame for something he had unilaterally chosen. “You wanted to know!”

“But not like that!”

As valiant as Poppy’s effort in keeping herself quiet had been, it couldn’t quite endure that. For how twinkly and high-pitched her laughter had been, it also carried surprisingly far, briefly catching the attention of everyone within earshot at how sudden it was. Lilly’s only grace was that much of her highest intensity giggles had peaked beyond the hearing range of many gathered.

Not Sue, though, blessed with the sound she could only describe as a kettle going off, with its steam being piped into a dog whistle. She had a hard time imagining a cuter laugh than that, as much as it kinda hurt her ears. Capitalizing on the moment of distracting amusement, she struck her crush with a Peck on her cheek. The foul attack struck true, making Lilly’s warble as if it was played on a damaged record, before it slowed down into flustered mumbling. And, seconds later, returned in kind, with the Forest Guardian faring barely any better.

Approximately four feet away from them, being constantly jerked around kinda cut into one particular lizard’s enjoyment of the scene. “Mind placin’ me down, Poppy?”

The remark finally stopped the cook’s bellowing expression of amusement. “Awwwwwwh, haha, but I haven’t gotten enough of you yet! Do I have to?”

“Would be appreciated, aye,” Ginger chuckled.

With the utmost of her fairy-esque grace, Poppy carefully rotated her friend the right side up before slowly lowering him onto the grass, the touchdown quiet enough to not make a sound. “There ya go! Oh—Hazel, what’s up dear?”

The sudden reappearance of the spooky prankster right behind her wife made Sue do a double take. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve guessed that the ghost had popped right out of her partner’s shadow for how well she was hidden there. Regardless of how inaccurate that idea was though, Hazel didn’t look like she was up for any laughs. Her concern almost undid her unnatural smile entirely as she led Poppy away from their group.

She wasn’t the only one to use that opportunity to flake off. Pollux and Spark seemed to have had enough of interacting with the grownups, taking off into the tree line. Sue expected the other kids to follow them soon after, but to her surprise, none of them did. Bluegrass remained where he was, if at substantially more ease than before—not that it was very possible for him to be any more uncomfortable than he was earlier. Rainfall had hopped to a closer branch, eying out Sue’s side. With her curiosity about the crutch the last time Sue had spoken with her, she figured a reprise of that was in order, but it wasn’t happening quite yet.

Howl was just kinda confused at all the action going on around him—enough so to miss his older canine friends running away. But this tall plant person seemed nice, and her yellow paw-things were pleasant to rest on. Lilly didn’t mind one bit, but that couldn’t be said of the lil’ gray pup once his impromptu relaxing spot started to wiggle underneath him in tune with a whistled melody. He scrambled back to all fours, yawned—revealing a maw-ful of teeth that somehow was even more intimidating than Joy’s—and looked around. “Huh? Where they?”

“There ran!” Lilly helpfully answered, pointing into the treeline.

The wolf pup let out a low, drawn-out, disappointed growl. “Not go trees alone.”

The dancer knew just what to do. “Come with me, you!” she exclaimed, springing onto her feet, before leading the lil’ quadruped after his playmates. Sue was of half a mind to chime in that Howl didn’t even respond with any affirmation to Lilly’s plan, but stayed quiet—Howl had already agreed in the only way that mattered, anyway. She felt colder with her crush gone, sure, but she felt much better about it than she would’ve just a few hours ago.

Having Solstice there to shine a just-as-radiant, if slightly different, warmth on her with her presence helped, too. A whole ton, even.

Using the lull in the chatter, Sue glanced up at her mentor—a term that felt increasingly insufficient but which she didn’t know what to replace it with—and received a beaming smile in return. It was a satisfied, calm, cheerful smile. But, above all else, it was proud, and it was that trait that made Sue’s heart swell once she’d noticed it.

She’s proud of me.

So that’s how it feels.

Before the conversation could restart on any new topic, though, someone else decided to join in on it first. Someone Sue recognized much less than Solstice, but both had a hunch the exchange that would follow wouldn’t be particularly... pleasant.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d ever step a foot in here again, Solstice,” the segmented purple scorpion growled. Her voice was harsh, but whether that was the inherent quality of her voice or just the tone she was using, Sue couldn’t quite tell.

The Mayor closed her eyes and nodded solemnly, before looking back at the night kin. “^Could have very well happened, indeed. But thankfully, it didn’t, Thorns.^”

“Good.”

The air between Thorns and Solstice remained tense, enough so for Ginger to pick up his loose skin and pivot on his paw away from the conversation—and especially from being right in between the two women. The older Forest Guardian was on edge, but thankfully not afraid. This might not be pretty, but it shouldn’t be miserable. “^Indeed.^”

Thorns narrowed her eyes. “What took you so long?” she asked, accentuating her words with the clacks of her pincers. Between her appearance, her gestures, and especially her attitude, Sue couldn’t help but shimmy along her seat a bit, away from the scorpion.

Her words might not have much benefit of the doubt in them, but they deserved to be answered, regardless. “^In all honesty? Bad reasons,^” Solstice sighed.

“That much was obvious.”

Solstice’s hand clenched for just an instant before gradually relaxing to the tune of a drawn-out sigh. “^I suppose. Guilt and moping, that entire nonsense.^” She lingered on that point, gathering her thoughts before noticing the scorpion’s maw open to speak—and continuing. “^I know you never cared much for any of it, Thorns. It’s no excuse, after all. I thought I was better than it too, once.^”

For once, the Mayor’s words weren’t immediately reacted to with snark. Thorns’s eyes were still narrowed—or looked narrowed at least—but she seemed willing to let her interlocutor finish her point at least.

“^Ultimately, what I thought I was doesn’t really matter, either. I’m sorry... for everything, Thorns, and that this took so long.^”

Each loud click of her pincers sent a tiny jolt through Sue, no matter how rhythmic they were. The voice that followed lacked some of the edge from earlier, but was still at best unpleasant for human standards. “What happened, happened. I care little for apologies.” Her focus trailed off, gaze shifting towards the assorted groups of Moonview citizens standing around Newmoon’s entrance—before snapping back to Solstice. “Apply what you learned going forward, Solstice. For the sake of all of us.”

Not a lesson the older Forest Guardian needed, but one she supposed she deserved—

“And you, younger one,” Thorns continued, making Sue jump in her seat as her shaking eyes met the scorpion’s. “Become more worldly. Being startled by everything does not come off well.”

As much as being called out had—indeed—startled Sue, the ‘lesson’ that followed swiftly burned much of that momentary fear into annoyance. Both at the scorpion being right, and at her being so forceful about it. She mumbled under her breath, “Neither is being overtly blunt like this.”

Any fears about the scorpion reacting poorly to being hit with her own attempted lesson soon evaporated at the brief, hoarse... roar-like approximation of laughter that left Thorns at her words. “Ha! Oh, that I know well. I do not care, Guardian. Someone has to say what everyone thinks. Life of an honest person is a lonely one.”

Something tells me that between ‘being honest’ and ‘being an ass about it’, one of those contributes much more to said loneliness than the other.

Off in the corner of Sue’s vision, the corner of Solstice’s mouth crept upward for just a moment before faltering again. The younger Forest Guardian didn’t notice, though, summarizing her thoughts with a simple “Right.” Whether it was meant to be approving, disapproving, mocking, or questioning, not even Sue herself was entirely sure of.

Though, something told her that Thorns stuck to one of those interpretations more than the others. “Hmph,” she scoffed, about to snap back with something else—before catching Solstice’s expression, the Forest Guardian’s own eyes staring daggers into her. To some, it would’ve been a challenge. Hell, that ‘some’ even included Thorns most of the time. But not now; it wasn’t worth it to make a scene over something so trite. The scorpion limited herself to returning the glare before reorienting her body with the help of her arms and skittering further away—from the crowd and the freshly delivered cargo alike. For a moment, Sue regretted responding that way, because... well, Thorns did have a point.

But, then again, there were ways of being honest without trying to be downright combative about it. Duck knew Sue herself wasn’t always capable of making use of them when she was already heated, but that was on her. Whenever she got peeved enough for the figurative gloves to come off and for her to be ‘forced’ to dispense some harsh ‘truths’ on people, nothing good tended to happen afterwards. And even in hindsight, what she said during times like that was rarely incorrect, but was often phrased in such a way as to be more hurtful than helpful.

Yeah, that was it, probably.

Maybe the difference between being ‘honest’ and the kind of ‘brutal honesty’ that was just an excuse to be an asshole was just the attitude. The latter was certainly appropriate in places, but any ‘friends’ it might’ve made you tended to be the kinds of people best avoided—especially since said friends were never the actual targets of said ‘honesty’, just spectators salivating over the free popcorn. The people that would inevitably also have many, many things for any ‘brutally honest’ people to be critical about. And if said honest person did indeed speak out about them, their friends were guaranteed to flake. Not like many of them did, though. Much easier to insult people under the guise of honesty if they aren’t showering you with praise about it.

Sue wasn’t sure if she would’ve respected them if they truly applied their honesty equally, but at the very least she would’ve loathed them less. Because, in the end, ‘brutal honesty’ for its own sake was more often than not bullying wearing a terrible disguise. Honest, helpful advice could very well hurt like an absolute motherfucker, Sue knew that perfectly well, but it was the intent that mattered more than anything else. The difference between desiring to help people in the long term, even if it meant some emotional anguish at the moment, and simply desiring to hurt people.

And there were many, many out there who simply liked to hurt other people. Mostly to sate their own egos, sometimes for even more twisted reasons. If not for being so harmful, Sue would’ve found them pathetic.

...

She’d somehow got herself in a stray enough tangent to have overlooked Solstice having turned to watch her with increasingly less veiled amusement, leaving her bursting into a bright fluster once she came to and caught onto that. Said fluster was first strengthened by the older Forest Guardian’s laughter escaping containment, but then defused moments later by Solstice ruffling her hair and rubbing her along the topmost spike on the side of her face. The latter felt weird to her human brain—almost ticklish, but not really. More so the opposite of ticklish, soothing the surrounding sensations and calming Sue down.

“^Apologies Sue, didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It was... interesting, trying to keep up with your train of thought, though.^”

Sue chuckled nervously. “Can imagine thinking of all that in terms of forums and chatrooms wasn’t the most... clear example. Sorry for getting too focused like that...”

“^No, but it was interesting to decode!^” Solstice beamed. “^And as for getting focused—why would anything be wrong with that, Sue? Warped as my clan’s morals are, thoughtfulness is a virtue even there.^”

“What about getting so distracted by a topic I forget there is a world around me?”

The phrasing brought a smile back to Solstice’s expression. “^In all honesty—genuine honesty, not the ‘brutal’ kind? It’s quite adorable. Reminds me of when Comet focuses really hard on something and just stares there, transfixed. I lay out some cut berries for him to snack on when he’s focused like this and not looking. Wouldn’t mind doing the same for you as well, ha!^”

Sue wasn’t sure which of these to be more flustered by, her weirdness being seen as endearing, or Solstice very explicitly suggesting showing her the same affection she showed her actual child. The latter eventually came out on top, but it was nothing if not a close matchup. Their combined force made the younger Forest Guardian briefly rival Spark in raw heat output, and even though most of her blush faded before long, the raw fondness that Solstice describing her gesture to Comet elicited... didn’t. Trying to distract herself from that failed, too. No two ways about it—Sue wanted that, more intensely than she remembered ever wanting such relatively minor things.

And, for once, she found the strength to put it to words. “I-I’d really like that, yeah...”

Solstice knew better than to respond to Sue’s whisper with words, be they spoken or telepathic. Instead, she walked up to the younger psychic’s seat, sat down beside her, and—still without saying a word—pulled her into a gentle side embrace, mindful of bumping their chest horns. Sue could only sit there, transfixed as her head was gently lowered onto her... onto Solstice’s shoulder, before the hair ruffling from before continued, if much more gently.

“^I’d love to do that, then!^”

Sue closed her eyes as Solstice’s emotions washed over her, so much clearer than earlier. Affection was there, no less bright despite being expected. So was pride, much the same as before, just as genuine. But also, a desire to protect. Not out of seeing her as less capable, not because of infantilizing her, but out of—out of...

...

The once-human flinched at the affection, fighting an internal war as she stared the truth dead in the eye, and yet found it so incredibly hard to accept. Not even ‘hard’, it was easy to analyze the facts, but internalizing them was a whole other matter. Everything that it implied, wonderful and harrowing alike. It was hard. It was still, after everything she’d been through, after every tearful conversation she’d had with Sundance, so, so fucking hard.

But, for once, possible.

And, once Sue finally acknowledged that what she felt was Solstice’s love—however full of doubt and worry itself—she could examine her own emotions closer. To see, with all the clarity she deserved, just how similarly she felt in the other direction. Every single emotion involved was messy, confusing, tangled in self-conscious worries and fears and bracing for the possible, inevitable disapproval.

And yet... Sue wanted them to become clearer. She wanted her doubts to fade away. She saw in which direction her heart was pointing, and even though the path ahead was full of more junk than her average college classmate’s dorm room, she wanted to push through. She wanted to nurture her own love in return. And she was doing just that, even if it was still much too hard to even try to put into words.

If there was one advantage her current form had over her human one, though, it was that Solstice didn’t have to guess any of that. Instead, she only held Sue that bit closer, her own words putting up a challenge. The will was there, the desire was there; the heart was there—but not the words. Not yet.

And so, a crude approximation had to suffice. “^I really hope today goes well for you, Sue. The Pale Lady knows you deserve that and so much more. Don’t hesitate to talk if you need anything.^” And then, after a few moments of gentle swaying to the sides, “^Even this. Especially this.^”

Sue nodded wordlessly in return, savoring the peaceful bliss. With how Thorns had approached them just minutes earlier, a part of the younger Forest Guardian wanted to pry her eyes open again and scan the surrounding territory, to be on the lookout for any encroaching threats. Be they real, imaginary, or only of the rhetorical sort. For once, that impulse had weakened enough for Sue to forcibly suppress it. To not just sit there stiff, but to actively relax her body somewhat; to accept the safety Solstice offered her as more than just a gesture to be thankful for but not end up even considering using.

Putting trust in people was hard. She often wondered if other people found it just as difficult as she did. Not because of any ill will or distrust towards others—nothing as malicious as that—but because of distrust towards... well, the world at large. Because of that creeping, omnipresent feeling that if they weren’t the ones with their hands on the wheel at all times, then they would inevitably catastrophically crash. To let anyone else as much as touch that wheel, however much Sue knew she could rationally trust them...

That was even harder than coming to terms with her emotions.

To say she succeeded at doing that with Solstice would be a generous interpretation. To put it lightly. She hadn’t truly let go of the wheel, but was, in that very moment, holding her hands tight on top of the Mayor’s hands as they gripped the handles. It almost didn’t make a difference at all. And yet, it was more of a leap than Sue recalled having ever since she realized how terrified she was of letting go of that wheel even for a second.

Hardly the most triumphant sort of progress, but progress all the same. It wouldn’t end up lasting that long, either.

Not because of anything Solstice or even she had done, but because, just like earlier, company was approaching. The familiar tension returned to Sue’s body as she pried her eyes open, squinting them as she eyed out the two approaching shapes. Now these two she was much, much more glad to see.

“You doin’ alright, Sue?” Daystar asked, some of her usual joking tone replaced with veiled concern. Snowdrop beside her was much more overt on that latter front, worry plainly visible on her features. Sue wanted to answer, to explain the situation as... ugh. She had no idea how she could explain this, not in a way that wouldn’t leave her vulnerable to ridicule and Solstice to scorn. Words raced in her head, twisting into sentences that coiled up so tightly the internal stresses broke them apart moments later.

Acting on the protection she was already giving Sue, Solstice picked up the slack, continuing to ruffle Sue’s hair. “^Yes Daystar, she’s doing well. We were just having a heart to heart.^”

That’s... not a bad way of describing it, huh.

Sue palpably felt Daystar’s raised eyebrow at the Mayor’s explanation, chiming in afterwards with an enthusiastic nod of her own. Good enough for the lanky farmer. “Aighty then! Your language any better, or still mumblin’ like you’ve never heard of the word ‘pitch’~?” she asked teasingly.

Snowdrop lightly swatted her lover’s arm, getting a giggle out of her. “Daystar, sweetie!”

The challenge might’ve been said in jest, but Sue wasn’t the one to back down. Well, actually, scratch that—she was exactly the person to back down, but in this specific case, she thought she had enough of a chance to at least try responding with something. She reached back, all the way back to what she remembered of her first language lesson with the gray once-hunter. It might’ve been just a few words, but her memory was never exemplary when it came to things she actually cared about, leaving her hoping to Duck, Night Father, or whichever other assortment of celestial godheads was watching, that she would recall the one word she was after.

Miraculously, she did. She perked up, leaning away from Solstice and taking a deep breath—“~Kkkhhhhhhyyyỳỳỳỳỳỳỳỳỳy̌y̌y̌ýýýáááááá.~” If she remembered right, that should’ve been a ‘no’.

To her immediate regret, her single... utterance response threw everyone else for a loop as they struggled to parse it. Daystar, predictably, cracked it first. “‘No’, eh? Yeah, that tracks.” It was only her saying it out loud—letting Sue confirm that the word indeed was something in the vein of “~Ky̌á~” like she recalled—that made the other two women realize that this drawn-out noise was supposed to be a word in their language.

Solstice was simultaneously proud of Sue for trying and baffled that it was possible for anyone to get that word this badly.

Daystar wasn’t done yet, though. “Ya should really pester someone to help ya with it. It’ll pay off and then some.”

Hardly news to Sue. “Yeah, I—I know, Daystar, don’t worry. It’s just that the past... while has been quite hectic. I haven’t had the time to ask for language lessons.”

“Hectic?” the vertically gifted weasel asked incredulously. “How so?”

Where do I even begin.

Less than an hour after they had their last lesson, Sue was assaulted by a deranged owl, then was carried back to Moonview and could only watch as a religious monument was accidentally destroyed. Then she had to keep a grip on herself to avoid her thoughts steering toward the nearest noose, lashed out at one child, and ended up finding another. Then there was the mishap with her hair, having to shout down a genocidal dickweasel, a therapy session, being confronted by yet another asshole deity, and—and then Solanum! And Nightbane! And another breakdown! And holy shit!

Even beyond not having time for language lessons, the hectic-ness of the time Sue had been in Moonview made it hard to realize just how much had happened to her—and how much she had accomplished. The latter brought some warm confidence, but the former made her eyes go wide. She wasn’t just going through a lot, she’d been launched into this world with no warning before being welded onto a rollercoaster ride and given a dull hatchet to clear the foliage from it while she was riding it.

In hindsight, Sue was baffled at how well she’d managed to hold herself together through it all. Maybe she really was more resilient than she gave herself credit for. Either way, thinking about that could wait for later.

Because ultimately, there was exactly one way to put it all in words. “Where do I even begin...”