You didn’t actually believe I was concerned about Logy possibly eating a sheep last chapter, did you? I hope not. I’m working on my sarcasm and joke quality.

No, I was concerned about Logy meeting Heidschi—if that was indeed Heidschi’s sheep. Yet at the same time, I was excited to meet Heidschi! And to be able to maybe have a conversation with them! So my emotions were both wild and confused, to say the least.

Hastily, only half-thinking, I spelled out, “DO NOT EAT”

The butterfly hovered closer.

Context

I added a word. “DO NOT EAT…SHEEP OR HUMAN”

Fortunately, Heidschi and their sheep companions weren’t moving very fast. There were definitely multiple companions. I could parse several sets of hooves crunching through grass and twigs.

But given that this wasn’t a mass wave-motion of dozens of sheep…I was getting a little more worried about them.

“STAY BACK,” I said. “FOLLOW. DONT BE HUMAN!!!” Then I blinked. This could be a teaching moment for her, depending on how I framed it. “ILL SHOW U HOW TO BE FRIENDS, LIKE ACTUALLY. YOUR WAY WAS BAD. DID NOT KNOW WHAT THAT WAS”

The butterfly gained some distance, fluttering into a tree. Still I read her message:

Okay. Let’s hope your way really is better

I sensed no confidence. Somehow, though, that message gave me hope. An “okay” at least suggested she was open to changing and learning. That or I lacked the head-voice to hear the sarcasm… Urgh, if I kept worrying about sarcasm, I’d just re-ruin my day. I pushed that idea right into the idea trash for now.

And I picked up the pace, speeding toward the source of commotion. A butterfly like a deep-purple specter was following me around, but not so directly that I looked haunted. Good, she had some idea of stealth.

The trees broke right before a half-meter drop. At the end of the slope was a well-worn path, the sort of thin meander that might have started life as a stream. Now it was dry as bones. Heidschi was walking through, a bonnet over tresses of yellow-white hair. How they maneuvered through the woods in such a fancy, flowing version of a peasant’s dress, I’d never kno—oh wait, magic is real.

Several sheep marched with them, all of them looking just as downcast. Except one at the front, who was twice as jittery, and still letting loose little bleats.

As I burst through the foliage and stopped at the edge, Heidschi stopped and turned. An authoritative raise of a drumstick kept the sheep from getting spooked or stumbling. It wasn’t a shepherd’s crook, but it actually extended in their grasp to the length of a cane.

A few seconds passed. Heidschi looked at me carefully, the glasses-shaped cantrip over their eyes giving them flashes of color.

Oh, wait. I hadn’t actually appeared before them in cat form before, had I? I transformed on the spot, trusting that any fear this sparked would be short-lived.

“Meeeh!” the sheep cried, but as the smoke of transformation drifted away, it was clear they’d hardly moved.

Now I was crouching awkwardly on the slope, so awkwardly that the edge crumbled beneath me. I straightened up and teetered onto the path. Heidschi kept staring.

Then they giggled. Which made me giggle. Why were we giggling? Then again, why not? It made me feel better about the way I’d barged into this, and in a weird way, it gave me hope that I could help all the sheep here relax.

Seeing Heidschi raise a hand to their cheek like that had a chance to stop them from laughing was disarmingly cute. Doubly so was the way they curtseyed in that flowy, many-layered dress.

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Which made me curtsey too! I grabbed the hem of my shirt and put one ankle in front of the other, then jerked at the waist. No way this was correct, but did we care?

The sheep around us weren’t joining in, though. Their eyes and shifting feet told us they were both anxious and confused. At least they weren’t seeing me as a threat…not that I could imagine them beating me up.

“Okay, okay,” Heidschi said to themself, getting over the laughter. “Let me make a proper introduction. My name is Heidschi Opus, but you might remember that.” Suddenly they seemed overcome by excitement, breaking form again. Hands clasped against their face. “I’ve been wondering where you were!”

I nodded eagerly, trying to say, “Me too, me too!” But right after that, I gestured to the sheep. Especially that one in front, the only one who wasn’t watching Heidschi.

The shepherd nodded in reluctant agreement. “Would that we had met in better circumstances. I need to go.”

With a single fierce shake of my head, I furrowed my brow, made a fist, and patted my chest. A gesture I’d never made before, but one that just sort of happened. In fact, it was kind of…gorilla? Were girls supposed to do this? Ah, whatever. I pulled the spirit board out of Inventory and spelled out, slowly and carefully, “I HELP!”

A hand of surprise covered Heidschi’s mouth. “Oh, no, you don’t have to.”

At that, I made a relaxed smile. Yet another person who was far too reluctant and modest. Where had I seen that before? I didn’t have any place to be. Heidschi was not doing this alone!

I pointed down the road ahead, and Heidschi reluctantly accepted. Inside, I cheered.

We started walking again, and though my SP had been holding out incredibly well all day, I knew I’d have to conserve at some point—so I un-Morphed back into cat form. Then Heidschi began to explain. “This is Sniffle,” they said, indicating the sheep in front. Indeed, that sheep was sniffling like a bloodhound. “She’s scented a trail of blood and magic.” Here it was: the sad reason for this journey. My spirit fell a notch. “Two of our flock are lost.”

Only two? Okay, that part was a relief. The others must’ve been sitting and resting someplace safe. Still, that was two lives.

“Mraow?” I ask-meowed. I wasn’t ready to ask specific questions. For now, I just wanted any info they could give.

Heidschi was biting their nails. “Whatever’s done it has to be nearby. Magic so dense that Sniffle senses it this easily…has to be old magic, old and deep. I don’t believe it’s going to be safe for you.”

As usual with humans, I was way more worried about the shepherd than about myself. Not to mention other animals! But no matter. I decided not to reply—I’d just prove my strength with my actions.

But I did stop to offer something. I poofed a couple of things out of my Inventory: a Fire Spell and a Lightning Spell I’d never given back to Bayce. (Two Fires, a Lightning, and an Attraction Spell remained.) Yes, a Spell was a serious thing, and these Spells didn’t entirely belong to be, but this mission felt important. I figured Bayce would want me to help others…within a reasonable scope, that is.

This was more than doable, and if it would help keep these squishy sheep and humans safe…

Heidschi, of course, was reluctant to accept. But they did crouch down and examine the two tiny bundles.

They started to turn them down. “But I—”

“Maow!” I cut that right off.

“Okay!” Their head flounced down in an insta-bow. The timing was so great that it made me laugh again. Luckily, since I was in cat form, it just came out as weird spitting, and I don’t think Heidschi registered it…or felt the spittle that rained on their bonnet.

The gift certainly made me feel better. Of course, logically, Heidschi wouldn’t be going into battle at all if they had no way to defend themself. I’d seen them use some sort of flock-enriching Skill the first time we met, too. But I figured you could never be too careful.

Eventually, the winding path led to a flatter expanse with only scattered trees, and more dirt than grass, pounded flat by feet. The ground was dry and lumpy. I began to notice crisp vines underfoot. Sniffle especially noticed them, pausing to snort at more than a few. She was also bleating louder.

What she was smelling, I could easily guess. There was no sign of magic or movement in these vines—on top of the fact that they were clearly dead. Strange things happened here, though.

We made a turn around a broad oak tree and froze.

On the ground was a corpse with unusual, haunting wounds. Vines, constricting the body like barbed wire, were eating into it. “Had eaten,” maybe—they looked just as dead, after all. The boar’s still body was pockmarked with holes. But instead of blood bubbling from the wounds and pooling underneath, there was something thick like mud, and darker.

Heidschi stayed back, and so did I. But Sniffle trotted ahead, and Heidschi didn’t try to stop her. She smelled the body and its vines in a panic, as if she was both fascinated to learn and terrified to find out. Her bleats became cries. She was loud enough that I seriously worried about other animals, or magical dry things, crawling out and strangling her.

Again, though, I followed Heidschi’s lead, and only after Sniffle had finished sniffling did they raise a long drumstick and beckon her back. They ran calming hands along her short wool and whispered in her ear. Then it was down to business, and things went solemn.

“She thinks they’re lost,” Heidschi said. “The other sheep…lost for good. But that doesn’t mean I can’t warn others.”

Or save them, I thought, and the air grew thick with sheer eerie feeling. The muck coming out of the boar’s body wasn’t just flat gray. When it caught the sunlight breaking through the oak leaves, it shone bright with every color of the rainbow like a puddle of oil. If richer colors in greater numbers meant stronger magic, then whatever being did this might be beyond our powers.

Heidschi’s words, in my mind, confirmed it. “The killer’s not from this world,” they said, fingers curled at their lip.