Kari had complained of embarrassment at her role in Nadia’s ceremony.

Cas had lightly chastised the girl, but was quick to mend over any hurt feelings – afraid to disturb the sudden peace that had developed in the household. Busy as she was with the thousand details of village management, Cas could hardly afford another headache.

And in truth, for those few days following the conclusion of Nadia’s ceremony, Cas had catapulted herself into a de facto leadership position.

Her food creation alchemy was the cause of this, as well as the main subject of her efforts in the following week.

Numbers talk, and – as she’d measured it out – counting Korren stalks, Handiti husks, and other miscellaneous vegetables, Cas could, with some measure of competence, transform about ten percent of that extraneous mass into food; so – considering all the resources the village had at her disposal – Cas projected that she could increase the Nemorian’s total food supply by a whole, astounding, massive… two percent.

The villages being currently able to support about five hundred people, two percent extra would mean enough food to support… ten extra people.

Of course that didn’t sound like much, but Cas appreciated how much food it took to support ten people for an entire year; and, recalling Nemaris’ words, there were fourteen Unari scheduled to be let go over the next five years.

Assuming that the village supported an average age of twenty, and assuming a child could survive on half rations for five years… Cas figured she could comfortably take in all the Unari for… Five years was her worst case scenario.

That would be long enough to train the slimes. Once she’d learned how to do that, the Oasis would grow by twenty percent, the groundwater levels would expand by twice that, and carrying capacity would accordingly rise to 700.

By then, Cas ventured, they’d have enough time and resources to let her rest easy while she figured out how to make new slimes.

It was quite the straightforward plan, and she let the villagers know.

The villagers didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, in the days following the impromptu festival, she was that broken vending machine which gave away free snack bars on sixth’ street.

They could come to her with Korren roots, and Cas would give them all the fibers and half the food.

Keeping half the food would give her enough food each year for five people. Five was less than fourteen, of course. However, stockpiling the excess they had in the early years would allow them to tide over the later years – when she had more children to take in.

Despite the straightforwardness of this plan, Cas was still beset on all sides by a thousand details.

She had to test if the food she made could be stored long term. Unlikely. She had to check if using antibiotic plants could make it last longer, an effort which served to make Kari throw up when she tried to eat the stuff.

Of course, in a desert environment, the Korren stalks themselves could be stored for years, but then Kari had to find out if dried out Korren stalks could be turned into food.

Thankfully, they could, but that required supplementing the water content, and so she had to negotiate special water rights with the village, lobby for the building of storage huts near her house, organize the transportation of stalks from the other villages, all while being hounded for her miracle food from literally every living person in this entire Oasis.

It was a stressful time. Although, in hindsight, it all seemed so petty and small, and she wondered how she’d allowed such trivialities to distract her from-

“Nadia!” Kari snapped, “I told you to get your butt out of bed two days ago!”

Cas sighed, almost thankful for the small distraction from her hectic planning.

Inside was Kari, doing her best not to let the days of building anger show as she chastised the blanketed figure sulking on a sleeping mat near the experiment table.

“No!” Nadia said with a spoiled tone, showing a bit of backbone even as she hid further into her blankets. Kari had been embarrassed by the conclusion to the ceremony; Nadia was mortified.

Kari only clenched her fists harder, eyes twitching manically.

Cas was sympathetic to both sides as she stepped in. “Come on Kari,” she whispered gently. “Why don’t we give her more time?”

“More time!” Kari snapped like lightly to get in Cas’ face. “She hasn’t left her bed all week! I’ve been doing all the work here and all she’s managed is to make this room smell like sh-”

“She’s going through a lot right now, Kari,” Cas eased. Strange to say, she found her more adult oriented worldview maintained even outside of slime form, and she found it easier to talk to Kari like an adult.

Kari seemed to chafe under the new tone, however, bristling as she spoke: “you’re siding with her!?” She gestured at the sack of sadness Nadia had cocooned herself into. “I went through the same thing? Why are you babying her?” A note of genuine hurt at the sheer unfairness of it all inflicted Kari’s voice.

“Kari,” Cas said sternly, “we said we were going to treat her like a younger sister, right? So that means we’re going to be patient. If she needs time, you give her time.”

Despite her advice, Cas herself was growing short on patience. Over the past week, Kari’s acceptance of the girl had slowly been stripped away by the pressures of actually living with their new housemate, and the girl’s veneer of perfect sorority had tarnished, and these arguments had slowly become a more and more regular occurrence.

Cas, of course, always tried to de escalate, always to bring some semblance of peace, but over the course of dozens of arguments and hurt feelings, she had become exhausted with walking on eggshells around Kari, and – in that most recent statement – she’d lost the energy to maintain that ever-patient voice, and Kari – she could tell by the look in the girl’s eyes – had noticed.

The girl didn’t look either angry or embarrassed, rather defaulting to that neutral mask of indifference Cas had become familiar with. “Ok,” she said simply.

“Kari…” Cas said sadly, trying to call the girl back, but her charge had already taken her past the violently fluttering door curtain.

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

Kari returned the next morning.

Cas, having spent the night stewing with her misdeeds, elected to skip any lectures.

The details of the village food issue were still on her mind, and ignoring the issue was the most her drained mental faculties could offer as a solution.

Cas knew of course, that that was not a good solution, but she figured it would have to do for now, as she stood in front of the first shipment of Korren stalks, a short ton of bundled branches that were lined outside her hut, and which were currently being fed into Slime Clone 10 by a still expressionless Kari.

The representative who’d been sent by the village had a plastic smile which refused to leave his face.

It had gotten awkward after the first ten minutes, and Kari took her time with the final bundle of stalks.

So Cas tried small talk: “I’m surprised everyone decided to just send one representative with the shipment. I’d assumed every family would come with their own bundles,” Cas said.

The man laughed a polite, and therefore fake, laugh. “Oh, maybe if this was just a matter of rug fibers, but you’ve transformed it into a story about food. The elders have decreed that Korren stalks are now communal property.”

He gestured a thin hand out to the mountainous strands of plant fiber that towered over the mole-hill bowl of food which had been created thus far.

“Right,” Cas nodded her crystal in assent.

“Although, if I may?” the man asked.

“You may,” the Sakkari answered.

“Some of the farmers worry. Normally, they fertilize their fields with the rotten husks of their extra stalks. May this not degrade the farmland.”

Cas was unsurprised at their worry. These people were very in-tune with their environment, and seemed very keen and prudent planes about it.

“There’s no need to worry,” Cas smiled. “My clones are able to turn waste into fertilizer.”

His fake smile grew a little disgusted, and Cas’ felt herself growing a little more annoyed at the man’s prudishness.

Eventually, the last of the Korren stalks were processed, and that thankfully signaled the time for the man and his retune to leave.

The bundles of fibers were efficiently processed into bales. Cas had been expecting pack animals, but quickly remembered the extraordinary strength of these people as they simply hefted a dozen stacks each. Then, of course was the matter of the food.

The quantity of food produced was far less, but the attention paid it was far more, as the people – ignoring the massive bales of fiber they’d set aside – hungrily and scrupulously counted through the allotment of food Cas had set aside for them.

Half of the food she’d made had gone into one bowl, while the other half was placed into a clay pot destined for her storage tent.

Cas acquiesced to their demands to weigh the two morsels.

Able to measure quite intuitively the amount of material she piped through her spout stalks, Cas was unsurprised when the movers found no difference in the weights, and hid well her offense and frustration when they demanded to switch allotments anyway.

The leader again gave an insincere apology, and soon they were on their way.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

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

It was the second week since she’d been invited to Cas’s home, and it was the second week since Nadia had refused to come outside.

Her farewell party had been an awkward one, and the judgemental glares and walk of shame the girl had to endure seemed to have quite the effect on her.

Kari, by now had had more than enough, and told the girl to start pulling her weight before dragging her outside.

Cas, mainly to show some semblance of even-handedness in her dealings, took Kari’s side on this, deciding that it would be best for the girl to get some fresh air.

“But Caaas!” Nadia moaned with a mortified expression. “They… they don’t want to see me! It’s too soon!” she decided with a flourish of embarrassment, attempting to inch her way closer towards the door.

Kari stopped her.

Cas, gentler, decided to use words. “You’re going to have to go outside and face them sometime. It’s better to get used to it now.”

“But-”

“This isn’t a debate,” Cas said. “Kari’s been working alone these past few weeks, and we have a lot to do if we’re going to get the food stocks built up in time.”

Nadia only fell quiet, making puppy-fox eyes into the dirt.

Cas sighed. “I guess we can limit your outside activities to the Oasis for now. There shouldn’t be many people there in the evening.”

Nadia seemed able to accept those conditions; though still pouting, she said: “It’s not the number of people. It’s the look in their eyes.”

Cas tried to keep a positive smile. “I know this is new for the villagers, but I’m sure they’ll come around. Just try to keep active in the meantime, ok?” Noticing that Kari still seemed unsatisfied, Cas hurried to add her new, shiny idea. “Actually, I’ll take care of all the errands in the village for a while, ok? Why don’t you two stay here and help organize the storage tent.”

They both seemed to quickly cheer up at that, and Cas – content to see them both happy at the same time – quickly left the situation as if backing away from a miraculously balanced house of cards.

…

Things at the village were… awkward.

Well, they’d always been awkward, but the tenor of the situation had changed. Whereas before, there was only a professional distance of sage and villager, now – traveling around the village for the first time in weeks – Cas sensed that the distance between her and them was more akin to the bars one might look at a zoo animal through.

There was no outright hatred in their eyes, and perhaps only a little malice, but the familiarity had gone.

It was strange. Just weeks ago, she remembered when every face lit-up at her appearance. That had fooled Cas into believing she’d won the Villagers’ eternal gratitude. She wasn’t alone in being fooled by this. In fact, in the frenzy of celebration after the Oasis had been saved, every person in the village had believed their gratitude to be real and unperishable.

Once the danger had passed, however, holding onto the sakkari with all their hopes became less sweet.

And things had gotten substantially more bitter following the adoption of Nadia.

Still, business was business, and she had to finish her errands.

By the last of her tasks, Cas was empathizing with Nadia and Kari. The atmosphere here was utterly toxic. Nothing was ever said or done to her directly, but being greeted everywhere you went with judgemental stares and indifferent attitudes was grating at best and exhausting the rest of the time. Before noon had hit, Cas found herself itching to leave this village and never return. Was this what Kari had been dealing with for two weeks?

Cas found herself flinching with shame at how quick she’d been to dismiss the girl’s outbursts as signs of a bad attitude.

Her musings about that were stopped by a pair of feet standing in her way.

Cas – used now to the villagers avoiding her – hadn’t been bothering to look out for pedestrians as she drove her body about, and so was surprised to discover the block as she lifted her gaze up and found Tami staring back at her.

The woman kept up apperances, hitting her with that same indifferent stare as the rest of the villagers, but something in her eyes invited the Sakkari in.

“I believe you were hounding me about the matter of your payment,” she said, sounding intensely annoyed and speaking loudly enough for the neighbors to hear.

Cas, catching on, simply answered – with her own cutting voice. “Yes. I consider my time valuable, and you certainly demanded a lot of it last week.”

“This way, then,” Tami stepped aside.

…

Inside her hut, once the cloth door had been let down, Tami was far more like her usually cheerful self, though she still spoke in a whisper.

Cas, for the first time, noticed how much more easily she was breathing. It was embarrassing to admit, but – after such a total rejection by dozens of people, the genuine smile from Tami was a more than welcome sight.

“So… how have you been?” Tami greeted with a cheery pronouncement, talking about nothing as if nothing had happened. ”Have you been enjoying the winter climate? It doesn’t last long, but it’s such a joy when it comes.”

“It’s been fine,” Cas answered genially. Tami tended to a warming tea-pot and Cas – not eager to go back outside – decided not to interrupt the small moment.

Tami, focused on the bubbling tea, allowed the conversation to lapse, an uncharacteristic lapse for the experienced hostess. Cas, wanting conversation, decided to skip the small talk.

“I’ve noticed people seem unhappy in the village,” Cas broached.

It was an obvious statement. In fact, it was so obvious Cas wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered to say it. Her words were automatic, and dressed up in the stock tones she used to garner sympathy with her friends. It was the kind of obvious statement meant to draw out supportive statements and cute ‘awws’ that preceded a speech on how everyone else was at fault.

Tami ran roughshod over those expectations.

“Well, of course they’re unhappy with you, darling,” she said with an obvious gesture of her painted nails. “You’ve got more food than you could ever need and you’re asking for more.”

That, truly took Cas by a surprise.

“Food?” she asked. “What about Nadia?”

Despite her blunt air, Tami still pulled a sympathetic attitude. “That’s a part of it, I suppose. There’s a reason we ask Unari to leave, and you are allowing them to stay. I suppose everyone sees that as a waste of valuable food.”

“I give them half of what I make!” Cas protested.

“Yes,” Tami acknowledged, pouring a loud cup of tea, “but you could be giving them all of it. That’s not very difficult accounting.”

“Really? That’s what everyone’s been giving me the evil eye over?” Cas took on a superior tone. “How fickle can those people get? They were worshipping me yesterday because I saved the Oasis! That should be a bigger deal than not getting food that wouldn’t even exist without me.”

“I’d be careful with that reasoning,” Tami warned, drawing an intensely annoyed glare from Cas. Taking a patient breath, Tami went back to explain. “People were thankful when you saved the Oasis. I was, too, back then. And, trust me, there was nothing fickle about our feelings for you back then. We were all terrified of dying, and you saved us! There’s no greater debt than a life, and the whole village owed you theirs.”

Tami spoke of all this in the most dialectical tone. “If you’d asked anyone back then – if you’d asked me – they could have honestly told you that they’d be your friend for life!”

“Or for two weeks,” Cas interjected bitterly.

Tami only smiled. “I know it seems frivolous, but it’s not, truly. Everyone really did feel thankful when you saved their lives, and they really did believe that they’d always stay by your side.”

“Ok,” Cas said growing impatient with the explanation. “What gives? I’ve saved their lives and they’re treating me like I’m a stray dog. I mean… I’m not asking for hero-worship. In fact, I was getting sick of that, but is a little courtesy too much to ask?”

Tami only laughed. “‘What gives’ is that you’ve already saved their lives. You should never trust your own convictions when under duress, much less other people’s. When you’re hanging from death, a thorny handhold can seem pleasant.”

“I’m a thorn now, am I?”

Tami ignored her to continue. “Now that they’re safe, however, once they get home, the people realize you have dozens of times more food than any family is allotted, more than could feed a large family for two winters. A single person having so much is… unprecedented, and jealousy is a new feeling for our humble village.” Tami proposed all this with an almost academic cadence, painting a picture which seemed to disturb Cas with its clarity.

“I’m saving it so I can take in the Nadia, and the others after her. I need the food if I’m going to save them. I can grow the Oasis. I just want everyone to be alive when I finally do.” Her voice shook with strange emotion as she tried explaining herself.

Tami smiled. The expression didn’t reach her eyes or her voice as she answered: “Come now, you don’t expect charity towards Unari to win you any favors, do you? I have a daughter you’ve helped, but most people aren’t so willing to look at it from that perspective.” She looked aside sadly.

Cas grew frustrated, “Oh, come on! I’m giving them half the food I make! They even thanked me when they received it!!”

Tami’s look of mirth reached her eyes this time. It seemed Cas had finally made a funny mistake.“Oh, that’s a double edged sword there, darling. People thank you to your face because you control the food. Later, they hate you even more because you’ve bought the thanks of people who feel they should rightly despise you.”

Cas only looked on in disbelief.

“Being hated is one thing, but buying good wishes is another thing entirely. You have so much food, after all, isn’t it unfair that you should use it to twist the sanctity of human emotion?”

Tami was speaking with a parodical style unusual to her. She was speaking playfully to spare her feelings, Cas knew. But the woman was quite blunt with her words despite the tone, careful to express the severity of how bad her situation had gotten.

“People in this village have never known a time where they weren’t living with just enough food to live, Sage. That shared suffering is perhaps the one thing that binds us together. You, taking so much food for yourself instead of giving it to the communal… well, people see it as stealing food, and they think you’re using your power to get away with that theft.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to let the Unari die? Is that outcome really so important to you people.”

Cas knew she was being unfair generalizing Tami in with the rest of them. She felt guilty seeing how quickly the woman rose to answer, “no! That is… if you want my advice. I think if you took in less food, and struggled through instead of building a surplus, that might show the rest of the people that it isn’t easy for you?”

“It isn’t easy for me,” Cas roared. “Do you have any idea how much I worry? I’m going to have to support fourteen Unari by the time five years is up! I’m going to be their only way to survive. Do you honestly think I’m hoarding that food for its own sake? I need it for them?”

Tami’s next words, spoken with guilt ridden eyes, shocked her. “Do you have to save all of them?”

Cas reeled back, feeling her crystal retreat to the back of her body.

“What… why are you even saying that?”

“I just mean to say. It might be better for the unari already under your care if you played nice with the village, took less resources for yourself.”

Cas caught on. “You mean it would be better for Nadia?”

Tami answered with surprising honesty. “It would. But its not merely a mother’s selfishness. The way things are… you’re building a shelter for those children, but you’re isolating them from their home.”

“The village is isolating them,” Cas hissed.

“Maybe, but I fear you’re offering a life no one would choose to live. I see you’re content, Sakkari. You have no need of anything, but these children – even living such lives as they have know nothing other than this village. Taking them away into the lap of luxury and turning the village against them like this–”

“I’m not turning the village against them!”

It was strange. Cas liked Tami. She respected her. Yet, she’d never hated someone so clearly before.

Tami was patient as always. “You’re not considering all their needs, Sage. I’m a terrible mother, I know. I maybe have no right to make any demands after turning my daughter over to you, but… even when I was a young mother, I understood that Nadia needed more than trinkets and food-”

The ceramicware clattered as Cas dropped it, spilling dark tea over the rug as she ruffled back towards the door.

“Thank you, Tami, for everything,” she said, not feeling her own voice. “I’ll be leaving now.”

Thankfully, Tami had enough self awareness to let the Sakkari go.