Some part of me had made the connection earlier. That the corn snakes heading to the fields were probably the followers, vassals, whatever they wanted to call themselves. Another part of me understood that whoever I was sharing a body with, well they were a bit crazy. Smart, certainly, but also prone to weird visions. Even now I could feel my mind expanding, my vocabulary growing. The spirit wasn't doing its job, and I was seriously starting to lose myself.

The corn snakes were here and clearly discussing something with the spirit. Joe couldn't listen in, since they apparently had a thing against crows. From what I understood, and the small bits of information given to me; the followers of Q were supposed to only speak to the spirit. The spirit was supposed to speak to me, and I was supposed to speak to the scarecrows that I would gather under me. A top-down sort of thing, something that would probably work great if I wasn't shoehorning crows onto 'sacred' lands.

Whoever I was sharing a body with was pretty giddy as no one stirred up trouble quite like I did. Igor was still gone, probably buying fries like I asked him to. Which left me with tiny snakes talking to a spirit that refused to tell me what they were saying. Joe was still chilling on my shoulder, cawing now and then at a few crows that started to peck at the ground. Just looking at one of the snakes, and trying to ask them what was going on, would only give me a slightly aggravated hiss.

With nothing better to do, I started walking around the field. Joe thankfully relieving the past hour of quiet with his voice. |"Do you think we'll get to stay?"|

I shrugged a little, not really knowing an answer to that. |"We'll see, if not you'll at least get some fries for wasting your time."|

Joe bobbed his head, |"How long do you think they'll be at it? I could see the snakes channeling their faith to speak to their advisor. It's really strange seeing all of this so organized."|

I ended up by the stand and climbed onto it. My arms spread out, as I got a full view of the field. |"I wouldn't know, Joe. I remember there being a lot of cornfields. At least... I think I do. The spirit isn't keeping my soul apart from the other guy. I'm bleeding into them, and vice versa. Crows can take souls and stuff, right?"|

|"It's our duty to guide the souls of the dead to the great river, where the boatman guides them across the river. There are different cases for different creatures of course. Like how we aren't the ones underwater dealing with that kind of stuff."|

I looked over the fields from my stand. |"There isn't a whole lot I know about. I need answers if I'm going to do whatever it is I'm supposed to do here. Whether it be helping resolve some kind of feud between my kind and the crows, or who knows what else. I don't want to lose who I was... who I am."|

Joe bobbed his head slowly, |"That's the thing, you keep that desire, and eventually you never change. We have all died because who we were is gone. Humans are no longer children with innocent eyes gazing upon everything. That part of them is worn down with age and experience. The spark is passed on to the next generation so they might continue to pass it on. The hope for a better tomorrow."|

|"That's not helping, it's sort of depressing actually..."|

|"I'm not that great at this kind of thing okay? Mourn the man in the past, for in the future they will not be the same. We have a bunch of sayings like that because our job is death. Clinging to the nostalgia granted by those you seek to not let go, only brings festering grief when the time comes."|

|"Crow culture is wild, Joe. You're like a bunch of gangs just roaming about, and picking up souls so they can move on. Are all crows like you, or is there something I'm not seeing here? Why can't the other guys get big like you?"|

Joe was a little uncomfortable with my question, looking out towards his crew. Finally, he looked back at me, |"Those like me are blessed, or touched in a sense. Usually, it involves being around a priest or priestess. They already have the spark, so it is theirs to give to those they deem worthy. Sometimes we get it on our own, you see animals more intelligent than they should be all the time, correct? They are the ones on their way to becoming something more, something similar to those like myself."|

|"I'm not sure I follow. Can't every crow get that spark?"|

Joe preened his feathers, |"No, it can't happen. Just like how there are dim people that can never understand certain basic things. There are dim creatures. Humans aren't special, we just follow the law of helping those that seem like they can succeed. Life is a struggle, and we need every advantage we can get."|

|"I guess I kind of get it."| There had to be something more here, something I wasn't asking. I looked at the crows picking at the ground. They were still hungry, then it clicked. |"If some of you are smart, why don't you show that to humans? Why hide it?"|

Joe looked up at the sky, before looking back at me. |"There are stories about us trying. Fairy tales are told to children about talking animals. The issue is that there is something more dangerous out there. Something that can knock out humans, and influence their shadows. Whatever it is, it protects them. I'm sure someone has been able to talk to it, but nobody I know has any idea where to look for whatever is that powerful. When someone does find something that strong, instincts supposedly take over. They feel fear, and their minds interpret their very presence as a warning."|

|"So something is knocking people out so they don't notice that magic exists? Any ideas as to why? What about rumors? Crackpot theories?"|

Joe cawed at one particular crow that got close to one of the stalks. |"Humans are more likely to have a spark, so it's best to cater to them. Trim anything they might use to fight back. Stifle their collective knowledge, and make them believe all of this is impossible. The only thing I can think of is that something is farming them in a sense. When a creature is lost in the depths of impossibility, that is when they are the most moldable. If the old tales are to be believed."|

|"Old tales? Like what?"| Somehow, this wasn't as jarring as it should be. As if it was a fact to be accepted.

Joe shook his head, |"Maybe another time, the priests and priestesses pass them down among each other. It could be different groups of creatures. After all, you were human once. Now you aren't. It could be that the gods themselves are farming your kind to change them into whatever they want. To prepare for the next great war. Take this with a grain of sand though, it's just a crackpot theory."|

|"Oh really? Where did you get this theory from? Also, 'a grain of sand?' Is that new, or just a crow thing?"|

Joe closed his eyes, |"Who knows? It's just one of the theories going around. I felt it was fitting because we're here on a farm. As for the grain of sand, we don't have much use for salt. This means, that we have a different nuance for sand."|

I didn't know what else to ask, but thankfully Joe seemed content to rest on my shoulder. It wasn't long before we heard the truck coming down the dirt road. Igor was back and had the full attention of the crows. He pulled up to the barn, holding bags laden with the goods from Wack Donalds. The logo was different, some kind of rebranding campaign? Joe flew towards the food, as the others went after him.

I got myself off the stand to watch. Igor was clutching the bags, grease coating the bottom as the fries themselves were probably cold. Not that it mattered with a flock of hungry crows watching his every move. The man was nervous, but relaxed once he saw me. The bag was red with a white logo, versus the usual white with red. A competitor? I looked into Igor's eyes, |"Let me see the bag, please."|

Igor happily handed one to me, clearly happy to not receive all of the attention. I grabbed some fries, tossing them out to the crows. The murder happily chowing down on the bits of fried potato. The logo was different, it changed from Wack Donald's to Wild Donald's. This didn't make sense, why would it change that fast? I shook my head, why was I focusing on the brand of a company I didn't care about? I felt something like a migraine, before tossing out more fries.

Better to not think about it. The crows were happy, I could see the council of snakes doing their thing. The spirit was flaring up, but that was something to deal with when we got there. I helped Igor unload the truck, glad he didn't poison the crows. There were too many fries, but the freezer should keep them fresh. At worst, we'll just refry it with the frier Igor has. The barn itself was still kind of gross, a bed in the corner. Blood on the walls. It felt smaller the last time I was here.

Everything was put up and Igor sat on his bed, watching the news on a small TV. He looked over to me, "Is everything alright, Guardian?"

I nodded a little, |"Should be, I don't think the crows will get kicked out. At least, so long as they don't eat the corn."|

Igor snorted, "If they do, I shall wring their necks personally!" He shook a fist in the air, before turning back to the news.

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I headed back outside to see the council of corn snakes slither their way towards me. There was no sign of the spirit. The bigger one bobbed its head in respect. |"Greetings, Guardian. The spirit of this field has been put to rest."|

I bobbed my head back at them, |"That's not good news, but I don't think that's why you're here."|

The snake turned to another and hissed at it. The smaller one bobbed, before slithering off. |"Right you are, you have invited old enemies unto sacred land. You have been forgiven for your transgression, as it cannot be confirmed such was a decision you reached based on your own soul. It may have been the bleeding between yours, and the former body you inhabited. That said, you require answers, do you not?"|

|"As many as you'll give me, the only one who's really given me anything to work with was Joe."|

The snake tilted its head, |"Joe? I am unfamiliar with whom you are referring."| I gestured in the direction of the crows. The snake nodded its head in a sagely fashion. |"I see, the one you have struck a pact with. The one you have given a name. Normally such a thing would be impossible, especially as young as you are. Though it seems you have placed them in a great debt to yourself. It is not my place to ask what you did, or why. Such would be the spirit's task. Instead, the spirit is now slumbering, and we are able to speak to each other directly given the circumstances."|

|"Why is that exactly? I mean, shouldn't I just be able to speak to you if you're around? Especially if I need to?"| I sat down, getting tired of looking down at the snakes.

|"It is exceedingly rare for us to come to any one field. Our task is to keep venomous snakes, and larger pests away from the corn. We are to warn the spirit of incoming dangers. Beyond that, we're worshipping Q and accepting guidance from them. There is a sort of interference whenever a spirit is around, but that is mitigated by our numbers present today."|

|"Why wouldn't you warn me first though? What if I'm away or something and the spirit can't reach me?"|

|"You aren't supposed to leave the field. In fact, you have been grounded. Your soul is bound to this field for the time being to cleanse it. You may attempt to leave, but your body will become limp and the other soul will come back. This will likely take an entire year, but it is for the best. To compensate you for such, you will have older scarecrows brought by the harvesters of other fields. What you have managed has sparked interest in the powers above us. Though from what I am told you have already spoken to both Q, and the lord of corn."|

I nodded slowly, |"I take it, that isn't supposed to happen as well?"|

The snake flicked its tongue, before coiling on itself. |"Usually no, especially not for one as young as yourself. Either your soul is remarkably resilient, or something else is at play here. It is not my place to question those above us, but you are unique. Enough so to warrant additional aid. You shall be trained for a year, before being allowed back out into the world. This is not a punishment, but a method through which we can ensure your soul is fine, and a test of sorts. You have resources unique to you, so use the crows to scout and gather information for yourself. We will continue doing our jobs."|

|"I still have so many questions though..."|

It bobbed its head, |"Very well, let us hear them."|

|"When do I get a mouth to speak? How do I communicate without looking others in the eyes? What happened to Wack Donalds? What am I supposed to do exactly? The crows can stay, right? How many licks does it take to get to the chocolatey center of a sugar rock-pop? Do you have a name? Do the other snakes here have a name? How's my family? What about my friends? Why do we call the god of corn, the lord of corn? Why not something else? How many questions is this already? Will I get a mouth soon? Wait, I already asked that."|

The snake hissed, |"I will only answer the questions I deem important. Though I can feel your mind burning with a desire for answers. Jack can give you a mouth when he feels you are ready. You will eventually be able to broadcast your thoughts into the minds of others without looking at them. When you reach that state, the harvester will likely restore your ability to speak physically. I do have a name, but I shall not tell it to you until you have earned such knowledge from myself. Everything else you asked was ridiculous."|

I slumped my shoulders, realizing that talking animals didn't know the greatest secrets of all. One day, I will discover how many licks it takes, one day... I looked back at the snake, |"What is a harvester exactly? Who is Jack? I mean you say that as if I should know them already. How will I train exactly? What am I supposed to learn?"|

|"Those are more acceptable questions. Jack is the name of the harvester upon this field. Something like a priest, or devout follower. His job is to maintain the health of the field, while yours is to protect it. You are meant to work together, and so it shall be. As for training, the best way to do such is for you to reach out to the other soul in your body. To communicate with it, and let it guide your thoughts and movements for a time. Typically mediation allows you to commune with them. Though it can be forced if needed."|

|"What happens if you force it?"|

The snake stretched a little, |"You could become stuck, or trapped within a vision of the other soul. A good portion of the things you seek to figure out will be discovered by yourself in time. Both the spirit of the field and the soul of your body are meant to aid you. Place yourself upon your stand, and reach towards the soul. We shall meet again."| The snake slithered away with the others.

Joe hopped on my shoulder, asking what happened, and how it went. He got a quick summary, about how he gets to stay with his murder. That I'm supposed to ask him for information on the outside world, and that I'm grounded. Joe seemed pretty okay with that and promised that his murder wouldn't kill the corn or harm it in any way. Joe flew away to make good on his promise.

Now, for the traitor. I turned my eyes to the barn, stomping my way towards it. I opened it, to find Jack laying on the bed. I wanted to squint, but still lacked eyelids. He was asleep, but I knew Igor wasn't his true name. What else had he lied about? Was I even a scarecrow? Did he know the secrets of the chocolatey center? Am I going insane? The answer to all of these was probably, yes. I pointed my fingers at my eyes, then back at him a few times. Just in case he was faking his slumber, I wanted him to know I was watching him now.

I climbed on my stand, figuring that it was time to train. I was supposed to reach out to the other spirit. I needed to meditate and to do that I had to clear my mind. I never really did that before, though I suppose doing drugs was the closest I got. Sadly, there wasn't much a scarecrow could do. I'd have to try burning herbs or something later. Hopefully, something would stick, but this isn't working. The more I tried to push the questions away, the more I had. Thoughts that made me wonder about the concept of reality itself. The swirling nexus of unanswered questions, spinning and left incomplete without answers.

Were milkshakes a cream, or frothy milk? Like ice cream, but on some kind of line between the two? What was the difference between fruits and vegetables? Would berries count as edibles, now that I'm a scarecrow? Could a scarecrow scare crows, or could crows scare scarecrows. Could crows caw corny comments? Scarecrows should seed the fields?

Okay, we're getting too far out there. Point is, my mind is a dangerous place filled with unknowns. Some questions should never be answered. Still, my vision felt like it was fading. This was kind of working I think. I felt something inside me, something foreign. Something alien... Weird. I know right? Wait, who said that? You. Me? Me, You, Us.

My vision had gone completely dark to the point I couldn't see anything. I looked around, as pinpricks of light started to come back to me. I was on a field, but not the cornfield. I was floating, while someone moved through the woods. A cloaked figure, with too many straps, was running through the woods. My legs were gone, as I was half floating, half dragged after the person. I couldn't get away from them, even if I tried. A sort of bubble was all I could circle around them.

The treeline broke, as memories flashed before my eyes. Ones that certainly weren't mine. This guy was the other spirit in my body. A demon hunter. Only our definitions of demons were much different. We were looking at the field, and above it was an honest to corn flying saucer. The kind you'd only see on b rated movies. Mister edgelord decided to not give me his name in his flashbacks. His entire life leading up to this. Instead, he drew his crossbow and shot the thing floating in the air.

Turned out exactly as I expected. The arrow hit the air around the saucer, before disintegrating. Really thought it'd just kind of fall down, but nope it vaporized. Edgelord waved his fist at the saucer in anger, loading another arrow. Kind of hoped he'd give me more context, but nope. Just another arrow shot at the thing flying in the sky as he called it a demon. A beam of light hit the ground and some kind of green figure was suddenly there. Its face was open, with five tongues hanging out at different angles. The chest was skeletal with thick leathery flesh. It had huge demonic wings, and its stomach was just a thin spine. The hips were completely clear, with two thighs. Four crab claw legs dug into the dirt as edgelord loaded another arrow.

Strange thing was that I could feel Edgelord's muscles moving. I could feel him loading the arrow, and the giddiness he had from looking at a demon. I wanted to call it an alien, but with how terrifying it looked it could call itself whatever it wanted. Somehow the lack of arms made it extra creepy, especially as it skittered towards us. Each movement of its legs sounded like bones snapping. Edgelord went deeper into the forest.

He shot a few bolts at it, but they vaporized. He at least set up a couple of snares, which vaporized when they triggered. This wasn't really a fight, so much as some poor insane guy trying desperately to kill what he could not understand. I was surprised by how clever edgelord was though, he rigged a couple of tree trunks to swing when the triggers were tripped. Sharpened pillars of wood came down from above, about to smash into the thing.

They were vaporized as well, and that's when edgelord started to panic. He shot a couple more bolts at it, before jumping off the trunk of a tree. He rolled away, as the creature followed. It fell into a pit trap, letting out a garbled cry of surprise. Edgelord's joy was short-lived as the creature climbed out of the hole pretty easily. It drew thick green blood from itself with a couple of lashes from its tongue. Then decided to paint the bark of a nearby tree with the stuff. It turned around and walked away.

Edgelord drew another bolt at the creature, only to stop when the ground started to rumble. He looked down as the roots of the tree suddenly shot up from the ground. The roots forming into hands as they grabbed the poor guy, and pulled him into the trunk that opened vertically like a disgusting mouth. He flailed, but couldn't really do much. The wood slowly forming around him and keeping him stuck inside the tree.

The poor guy struggled to breathe, even as he fused with the tree itself. His mind struggling to find some way to escape, some way to live. There was nothing, even as he lived there for weeks. He made promises to the tree, trying to find anything that might help him. The animals were terrified, not even offering him the release of death. A month passed before some harvester came and offered him a choice. He could serve the fields or continue to suffer.

This was going to be a long year if I kept having to watch these guys die before they decided to train me. This stuff right here was nightmare fuel. At least edgelord started talking to me after that and showed me how he made weapons and his time as a scarecrow defending things. The forest scared him for obvious reasons, so he made me promise not to go there with him again.