“Ria?” Enola paused at the peculiarity of my request. “You want her to teach you Standard?”
“That’s what I was thinking.” I scratched the back of my neck, knowing myself that it was a stretch.
The receptionist gave me a blank stare. “She’s a kid.”
“I promised her I’d stop by. She has plenty of time, and I thought she might enjoy it.” I tried to defend my reasoning. “All she has to do is tell me the name of things, how to pronounce it correctly.”
Enola listened, thought, and sighed. “It’s not the standard job of guides.”
“I’m aware of that.” I nodded. Still, it couldn’t have been the weirdest request she’d heard in her line of work.
“As far as City Hall is concerned, it’ll cost you the same. She’ll be your guide. If she agrees.” The receptionist gave me a warning.
“Of course.” I had no intention of forcing the little kitsune to teach me against her will. “Is she even still here?” Given the late hour, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t home by now.
“She is,” Enola said with another sigh. “She usually spends the whole day here.”
“Why?” I paused, my thoughts drifting to child slavery.
“To make a little more money. If she stays that long, she gets a free dinner,” she listed the main reasons. “Ria doesn’t have it easy at home.”
Really? The last time she talked about her mom, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. Perhaps her father? Or just lack of money.
“Hold on a second. I’ll get her,” she said and disappeared into the doorway behind the reception desk. When she emerged from them again a few moments later, she wasn’t alone. Trailing behind her was somewhat downcast and cautious little kitsune.
“Hi, Ria,” I waved at her even before she noticed me.
Her ears twitched, and as her eyes fell on me, joy shone in them. “Korra,” she cried excitedly, then glanced at my tail. It seemed for a moment that the girl wanted to say something else, but the pause grew too long, and she slipped back into cautious silence. Knowledge of the name of my tail was a secret, but... “Enola knows about Sage,” I whispered, leaning towards her as she came closer. Her eyes widened, yet she didn’t say a word as I put my finger to my lips, pointing around at the people in the hall. She understood immediately.
“Korra here has an interesting offer for you,” Enola said and explained my plan to make Ria my language teacher. As I listened to the receptionist, my idea sounded more and more bonkers. The small kid could not teach me the intricate structures of language. It would be challenging even for many adults. That wasn’t what I was looking for, though. I wanted to learn the basics from her, a vocabulary I could build on.
That was the main reason. Then there were others, like keeping my promise. Knowing what it was like to rely on someone and not get help. I wanted to spare her the disappointment.
“So, what do you say?” I asked when Enola finished. The little kitsune didn’t answer me right away. She actually thought about it. Watching her rubbing the tip of her ear with her finger on her chin while her tail swept behind her as if under a slow-motion spell was amusing.
“Okay,” Ria said so suddenly that she startled me. Determined, she was beaming with excitement. “I’ll do it. I’ll teach you Standard.”
“I have no doubt, a little teacher,” I answered back, only to have her giggle at my remark.
“The question is when? A fixed time, or a more flexible approach?” Smiling warmly, Enola asked to make sure this would work, and I appreciated that. Finding time for little kitsune in my soon-to-be busy schedule was challenging, dependent on how Rayden and Deckard will organize my training. But Ria surprised me with her willingness to adapt. She didn’t mind if it was in the morning, mid-afternoon, or late at night.
What could I say to that?
So after Enola made it her official guide job, I found myself following the little terran girl through the city streets to the flat-roofed house she had taken me to a few days ago. My idea, as booking a training room every day was beyond my means. Just paying her was already a stretch.
Climbing the rickety ladder was no less stressful than I remembered. The reward in the city's view was worth it, though. Not as quiet as the library, still a good place to learn. If only we had more time. One glance at the horizon and the sun hovering over it told me we only had a few hours of daylight left.
Last of my problems, as nervousness took hold of me. My hands were sweating, and I was trembling slightly, quite a contrast to the enthusiastic little kitsune that tried to grab my tail. I couldn’t help myself no matter what I did. It was simply too hard not to feel anxious about losing the ability to talk to people in a foreign country in a faraway world.
“Ria,” I squatted down to match her height, stopping her. “A...are you ready?”
Her eager nod was a resounding yes. Was I? No! “Okay. Your job will be to call me the names of things. Anything you can think of, like a tail. Just point to it, tell me what it’s called, and I’ll try to repeat it.”
She gave me a wide grin. “Anything?”
“Yes, anything,” I concurred, even though I could see the mischief in her eyes. “Nod if I pronounce it right, or give me a thumbs up.” Strangely enough, she didn’t know the gesture, and I had to show it to her. “Don’t be afraid to correct me if I pronounce it wrong. It’s important, Ria. I’m not gonna be mad at you. So when I make a mistake, shake your head, give me a thumbs-down or cross your arms in front of you.” My explanations, which I followed up with demonstrations, were met with giggles and a silent raised thumb. She was a fast learner. I could only hope, me too.
“Great,” I said, with tension seeping into my voice. “I’ll remove my skill now, the one that allows me to talk to you.” Spoken both for her and me to reassure myself.
“Okay.” She nodded, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Taking one more deep breath, I switched [Eleaden Standard Language] to [Flight] and waited.
Nothing happened, no headache, not even a little prick in my head. Just a thought, and I lost the ability to communicate with others. A quick check that the skill was among those still available to me calmed my pounding heart a bit.
“Korra, @%$*/ o& #<]?” Among Ria’s words, only my name stood out. Did she ask me if I understood her? The feeling that just a moment ago, I was having a normal conversation with her, and now she was a stranger to me, was chilling. Stilting the shiver, I pointed to my hand and gave her the most questioning look I could muster.
Her eyes widened as she understood. Brimming with determination, the little kitsune pointed to her hand. “$*/&%.”
It was hard to identify any similarity in the languages I knew. I didn’t even try. Instead, I repeated the word after her. She immediately shook her head and crossed her arms, so I tried again.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Thus began my first Standard lesson, a necessity for me, fun for Ria. The way I punctuated most of the words was hilarious to her. She laughed full of joy the first time I said the word for butt, giggling with every one of my repetitions while pointing at her bum.
What I found surprising was how easily what I learned stayed in my head. It was enough to repeat the words after Ria a few times for them to be etched in my memory. Truly weird, but something I attributed to increased intelligence and wisdom, not to my natural talent.
After learning the first three words, I returned [Eleaden Standard Language] to my general skills to see if what I was doing was worthwhile at all, whether I remembered those words even after the skill was removed again.
I did, and it changed a lot.
Only it didn’t hit me right away. Not until Ria and I exhausted the possibilities of what she could name for me on the rooftop I realized I hadn’t fully thought this through. The skill swap gave me a way to make up for this oversight. I chose [Eleaden Standard Language], told her the word I wanted to learn, and switched skills back. Simple solution. All it took was a thought.
The little kitsune surprised me with her tenacity. She taught me for almost two hours, and it was me who had to call it quits. I was the first one to lose focus. Embarrassing to lose to a kid, I know. But to see the passion and joy with which she taught me soothed my hurt soul of the loser.
“What about Lia?” I nudged Ria with Sage and asked about her tail, only to clear my throat. Talking with skill at level one was tough. My tongue was all over the place.
Not hesitating, the little kitsune grabbed my tail to burrow into Sage’s soft hair. Of course, I had long ago denied him mana and rid him of the poison. “I should have only told Enola about Lia. Like you. The others always make fun of me for it.” Ria whispered, dispirited by it.
I ruffled her hair. “Don’t mind them. They’re just jealous.” Sometimes the kids could be cruel without really realizing how much. I went through something similar myself for my freckles. I used to hate them. A few years later, they made guys more interested in me.
“Just don’t hate Lia, okay?” I said, staggering at my own words. Who was I to say something like that? It hasn’t been long since I thought about getting rid of my tail. Pretty hypocritical of me.
She paused and peeked out of Sage’s hair. “Hate Lia?” She wagged her tail. “I would never do that.”
My smile hid my regret that I did. “Good...”
“Something wrong?” she asked, sensing my sadness. Not something I wanted her to worry about. “Yes,” I whispered and leaned down, grinning so wide that I bared my canines, ready to pounce on my prey, the little kitsune girl. “I crave to tickle someone.” Her ears twitched, her eyes flashed with understanding, and she stormed away from me, giggling. I chased after her.
Playing with her was blissful, the lightheartedness of it what I desperately needed. Just put everything behind me, all those worries, for just a few moments. I enjoyed it till the last ray of the setting sun.
The end had to come, even if it meant disappointment for both of us. I walked Ria back to the City Hall, assuring her that I would need my little teacher again tomorrow. A few copper lighter and a few farewells later, I was heading to my last errand of the day, the library.
Standing in front of its steps, lit only by street magic lamps, I hesitated. It was getting late, and there were no opening hours posted on the door, as there were in most public places or shops on Earth. A reproach to which I might remind the old librarian. If he was still awake.
I took the risk and walked in, finding myself in a dilemma right away.
There was no doorbell to announce my arrival, nor did I want to call the librarian, sure he wouldn’t appreciate it. But was it necessary? No. Mr. Sandoval knew about everything going on in his library and, therefore, should know of my arrival. All I had to do was wait. So I did, enjoying that serenity this place possessed.
Hearing the librarian long before he emerged from the bookshelves, I strained, a smile appearing on my face when I saw him. He closed the book he was reading only after his eyes fell on me. “Miss Grey, I was wondering what happened to you?”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “To let you know not to worry, Mr. Sandoval.”
He paused, pretending to be offended. “Just because of that?”
“You got me,” I said, playing along. “I’m very curious what you found in the books.” I actually was.
He smiled and took a step forward. At that moment, his eyes and mine went wide.
[Librarian: lvl 76]
“You leveled-up, again.”
“I see you have not been idle, miss Grey.”
We both spoke simultaneously just to have a laugh. This evening was getting better and better.
“Come, let’s have a seat,” he gestured into the depths of the library. It was hardly surprising when he took me to one of the reading tables below the magic windows. The place wasn’t as neat as I remembered it, though. There were stacks of books around, some of which were open on the table. Mess at first glance. If there was order in it, I didn’t see it. It didn’t mean that the books were carelessly thrown around, on the contrary. They were carefully placed. Still, it required moving a few of them before I could sit down.
“How have you been?” Mr. Sandoval asked politely, but his eyes wandered to the open pages on the table between us. I didn’t want to bother the librarian too much with my problems. It was nice at first when people felt sorry for me. Now I was tired of hearing myself say over and over how hurt I was, making myself the damsel in distress I didn’t want to be.
“It’s been a crazy couple of days,” I said. No one forbade me to talk about what happened, but I knew better. “To be honest, I don’t even know if I can tell you everything.”
“Is it because of the Imperial Agent who followed you to my library?” The old man asked, taking my breath away. The librarian has way bigger control of his library than I thought. He even recognized who Sah was.
Lowering my head, I mumbled my apology. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was going to follow me in.”
“Don’t be.” He stopped me from feeling guilty. “Everyone is welcome in my library as long as they behave respectfully, and he is.”
“He’s here to see to my safety,” I explained, wincing at my words. Bloody hell! Did I just defend Sah’s presence? Either I was high or in a really good mood.
The old man rubbed his beard. “I see.”
Not to ruin my mood, I focused on the reason I came here in the first place. “I met mossbears...” I didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence.
“Oh, so that’s the moss in your hair,” said the librarian, with an epiphany. “Hmm...one of your mutations belongs to them. That confirms my search. It was either them or the Pralen Slug.”
“Slug?” Last time he spoke of at least five terrans with horns similar to mine and countless beasts, but he never mentioned slugs.
He chuckled. “Mammal, actually. It has a similar skeleton, organ structure, and fur. Only its shape resembles slugs, hence the name.”
“...and horns?” I added, looking for confirmation.
Mr. Sandoval nodded. “Mossbear are more exciting, though. I read they protect their moss above all else. They never part with it. Yet you have it, miss Grey. The fact that it doesn’t wither away suggests your mana is in tune with theirs.”
I shrugged, checking the moss in my domain, feeding it some mana. “It looks that way.”
“Pray tell, was it one of the mothers, or even the King of the Woods, who gave it to you?” the librarian asked. Apparently, there was more information in the books than one might think.
I leaned closer, grinning. “A piece of advice. Don’t call him the King of the Woods. He’s Esu.” Something one of the mothers told me.
“Noted.” Mr. Sandoval laughed, and I laughed with him. We both knew he wasn’t going to the Esulmor woods any time soon. It was hard for me to imagine him leaving just the library.
“How come he has a name, though?” I asked the question that had been weighing on me since I met Esu. “The other mossbears were just...mossbears”
“Why don’t the others have names or class, too, right?” He asked back.
My ears twitched. “Exactly.”
“Animals, beasts, and monsters don’t have a class like us,” he said, rubbing his beard while thinking of how to explain it to me. I, on the other hand, thought I should find out the difference between the three. “The name you see is something the System gave them. Have you ever tried to identify the child?” he asked and continued after I shook my head. “You’ll see a [Human Child] or a [Terran Youth] depending on age. That’s how most people perceive them and is reflected in what the System shows you.”
“It’s the same with beasts. Do you think they see themselves as mossbears? No. It’s how we perceive them. Someone came across them first and saw what looked like common bears covered in moss. Only bigger and stronger. He thought of them as such, as moss bears and passed that idea on to the others.”
Why not a big fucking monster, then? That's what I would have thought but kept the remark to myself. However, it brought the possibility of one day naming my own beast or monster as the Victorian explorers used to do.
“But why didn’t the System show me Esu as the King of the Woods, then?” Whoever talked about him did so as such.
“It’s not unusual. When a beast reaches a certain intelligence and starts to think of itself as an individual, the System takes that into account,” he explained.
I frowned. “Then why didn’t the mothers have their names? They were intelligent enough.”
“Perhaps not enough,” he hummed. “...or maybe they just didn’t think of themselves that way.”