In the two days following the woman’s meeting with the juvenile hawk, the small part of the forest she operated in experienced some strange phenomena.
What had been disregarded as lowly prey and forever confined to its protective herd was now roaming around, all alone. Without the protection of vast numbers, it was hunted, injured, and eventually... avoided like the plague.
No predator was safe from disgrace. The woman’s steed, a large, streamlined, neon-coloured grasshopper, suffused with some nascent force of will yet to be discovered, was not to be underestimated.
The deceptively easy targets running about in the brutal forest showed time and time again why incoming aggressors had been declining.
A quick uppercut from the boxing insect did wonders in taming misbehaviour, if only for those still alive to grunt, squawk or whimper the tale.
Bang!
Once again, a lone wolf of elephant proportions met the same fate as its predecessors when it crashed into hard bark. It tentatively came to its feet groggily and spewed buckets of blood before slumping down forever.
This scenario happened so often that the woman atop the grasshopper, a staunch supporter of pacifism, had grown numb to the senseless bloodshed.
The first few times she tried to reason with the beasts, but nothing went through the hunger-crazed forest dwellers’ stubborn heads. Conciliation was impossible at this juncture.
Kassmera could not know, but as the main source of meat during winter till late spring–––the Ankletons–––had been almost eliminated by the foolish Balen, it set in motion a chain reaction.
Various disruptions made the forest an even more dangerous place. She was pained by the loss of each life but was aware of the need for such bloodthirsty measures.
Survival of the fittest. A barbaric curse shackling all life on Central that desire and hope alone could not break. The killings would continue without an end in sight.
The only thing Kassmera could do besides lamenting was scanned the forest for special herbs that a certain crazy alchemist had introduced.
She would save more lives if she gathered what she needed faster. In the process, she also acquired all the necessary materials to relieve the pain and injuries caused by the frequent tussles that the grasshopper king sustained.
They had entered into some sort of symbiosis, learned to look after each other: Kassmera would tend to its wounds, the insect would then in return guarantee her well-being, protection included.
It made her happy that no apex predator saw in them more than a nuisance that would go away on its own; the rutting season had not yet begun either. In a sense, they were really lucky.
One day, something caught her notice and her ride halted. Kassmera slipped down its neon carapace and walked slowly towards a drippy tree that was constantly losing blue liquid.
After observing the plant that didn’t seem to be troubled by the gaping hole in its rear for a while, she eventually noticed a peculiarity. Kassmera burst into a giddy laugh.
As she rummaged through that wound for a while, she then found what she was looking for and shuffled back, holding a purple twin-seed in hand.
While scaling her loyal steed, she glanced at the foliage that had been a result of her and her companion’s combined efforts over the days and added a seed of a most peculiar shape to the collection before carefully wrapping it all back up and setting off.
Several minutes later, the duo came across a clearing that was covered in strange petioles wildly growing all over the place as if nothing could stop them from expanding and conquering the ravine.
These things grew not only on the ground, but also up the trunks and stems of many giant plants, draining nutrients. While some of the infested looked worse for wear, others were already in the process of being recycled.
It was a curious sight, but that was it. Other things she’d seen here were even more mysterious and inexplicable. Such as glowing saplings growing suspended in the air, for example.
Or a group of parasitised weasels breeding like rabbits and killing their young to feed an ugly monster bug... In comparison, the sight here was rather tame. Kassmera only came this way because her ride was behaving oddly.
Usually, wherever she wanted to go next, it would follow after a gentle nudge, just like a trained horse. That wasn’t the case when she came this way.
After struggling to keep the insect hopping where she wanted and not falling down a chasm, she had just been about to leave for another direction.
But then Kassmera recalled a certain apathetic voice and one of the many suggestions the alchemist had hurled her way. From that moment on, she couldn’t shy away.
Kassmera’s high expectations were not betrayed either, as burrowing down a few millimetres in the strangely coloured mud made her jump up in ecstasy. These petioles were the tuft of genuine, extra-large carrots! Cursed Carrots, to be scientific.
Just the ones she’d been missing. But she soon found herself confronted by a new problem: The mount wouldn’t move any further than a hundred metres distance from where it continued to restlessly scrape its feet about here and there.
Therefore, after having abandoned her mount and identified the petioles, she had to head back to see what she could do about the distressed grasshopper.
Yet no matter how much she pleaded or coaxed, its humongous body would not budge. In the end, it was up to her alone to secure good fortune.
Which in itself was a big issue. Even the smallest carrot she espied might be a monstrosity about 2 metres (~6.5 ft) long and who knows how heavy if the stems' size were to be trusted–––assuming her knowledge of proportions was still useful.
Kassmera immediately dismissed the thought of setting herself to work. But was there any other option? After pondering for a while, she failed to come up with an alternative.
In self-deprecation, the woman sighed and selected one of the vegetables in the immediate periphery that didn’t seem that heavy at first glance. Taking on that misshapen monstrosity should be within her capabilities.
Kassmera stopped in her tracks abruptly. Astonished at her lack of conviction, she slapped her cheeks until they turned a healthy shade of rosy.
Then she strode forward with a powerful stride, her hazelnut eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Her nose was filled with a peculiar, slightly irritating smell as she grabbed the ingredient. Afterwards...
Kassmera’s frail arms felt like they were about to break off as she pulled and tugged at the collar. This... clearly wasn’t meant to work either.
Brute force had never been her strong suit. Still, she was tenaciously digging her bare feet deeper into the mushy ground, refusing to give up. Shortly afterwards, she had to stop for a breather.
Unfazed by the slight pain and discomfort, she prepared herself mentally for round two. Only that said round didn’t proclaim Kassmera a winner either, it just made certain she sank deeper and faster into the soggy field.
Up to her hips embedded in the ground, some part of her brain transmitted the weird idea that she might have become a carrot. One that– “ai, au, au,” met clamping claws brutally marginalising soles and shins.
While trying to escape the unseeable persecutor, she ended up dirty-caked all over on her backside, rolling in the mud on reflex. She hastily scampered back to her mount, ignoring the many scratches and bleeding wounds on both feet.
The carrot had long since been forgotten. Glancing back, Kassmera noticed a heap in the making that soon burst open, throwing carrots and soil everywhere. Into view came the culprit, a mole.
Big, fat, unsightly, and clumsy. Injured, as she figured out fast. And grievously too. Despite standing only a short distance away, the animal appeared oblivious to her existence.
There was nothing pretty about its mangled head with those swollen strips of skin hanging down on one side, exposing the crack-ridden skull underneath.
What Kassmera failed to notice at first was that the old her would have screamed in terror and fled like a spooked hare. In contrast, the current her was only flinching, feeling the creature’s pain as if it were her own.
However, she could hardly turn back now, couldn’t she? In spite of feeling bad, she could only hit the poor mole when it was already down. For the sake of what she had in mind. For the greater good...
Back in the village, taking advantage of others had never been an option. However, this did not mean she didn’t have any knowledge of how to do it. It was part of being human.
Kassmera slowly drew closer to the subterranean creature, careful, silent. The creature, contrary to what she expected, paused in its ravenous quest, sticking its rough, scarred, hairy nose bursting with warts vertically up into the air, probingly.
The mole roughly occupied 3.8 metres of space (~12.5 ft), its bitten carrot another three (~10 ft) and behind the vegetable in approximately 7 metres distance (~23 ft) was she, stalking the creature.
Fortunately, the wind came from the opposite direction, blowing the carrot scent to the mole’s sensitive nose. With her odour obscured, the mole lost both interest and alertness in due time, turning its head back to gorge on the vegetable.
Kassmera gathered her energy and focused her willpower. Ever so cautious, she crept nearer and nearer. The muddy ground below muffled the sounds, providing her with additional protection.
Eventually, the prize would be within reach if she extended her hand. Then... her planning went downhill. The mole must have felt something because it swung its claws across the ground in a far-reaching sweeping motion.
Despite her best efforts, the mole’s aggressive speed thwarted her follow-up plans. Razor-sharp nails passed Kassmera’s head by a hair’s breadth, showering her in fresh mud that fell from the elongated, sharp claw.
Yet the creature’s bestial stench was what afflicted her the most. Kassmera had to fight bravely against the urge to vomit. It reeked of decay, of death, of dry blood and raw flesh.
Of pus and grime. With its unhealthy diet, each breath had the properties of chemical warfare, causing tears to form in her eyes and wheezing to fill her mouth.
The woman’s security had been compromised. In due haste, she seized the heavy carrot as both a shield and loot, yet she failed to take into account her unaccustomed body.
As a result, a large and merrily bleeding wound on her left arm was exposed to the fresh air. From wrist to shoulder, blood gushed forth. Not bones deep, but by no means light either. A bit more force would have meant her end.
The pain and fear gave her a much-needed boost in physical strength, allowing Kassmera to avoid a follow-up sweep. After narrowly escaping decapitation, she sprinted back to her mount.
Sprinting was a bit of a stretch as her dash was nothing more than running backwards while dragging the prized carrot along, occasionally evading her mad pursuer’s uncoordinated antics.
Some minor wounds were unavoidable, though. At the halfway point, she turned back to eventually correct her trajectory and yelled in surprise.
As she closed in, the mount was about to run off without her. The oddly-coloured grasshopper king looked much like a racing car at the starting line–––its smaller front legs kicked back and forth while its powerful hind legs remained fixed in place, refusing to move.
Just what she needed in this situation! Kassmera cursed so rudely that any bartender would blush in shame. As if sensing her fury, her mount became even more restless but remained stationary.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
With the distance between her and the grasshopper shrinking, the injured mole became increasingly frantic. Even though it had already detected the nearby insect, its experience led it to dismiss its presence at first.
Since they would always flee at the mere sight of it, the mole did not have much respect for them. If it had been a bit brighter, it might have realised that what the insects fled from wasn’t its mighty self, but the incredibly punishing smell of the Cursed Carrot.
All the little monstrous animal cared about wasn’t even the thief–––it only wanted to get its carrot back for further happy enjoyment. Even though there were many more all over its territory, it didn’t care. The mole wanted that carrot back.
Nonetheless, as soon as the woman reached her ride, the mole in the back was doomed. In the face of not one, but two immediate sources of absolute menace in close proximity, the ride snapped.
The mole was promptly kicked head-on, sending it soaring through the air as it left behind pained squeals and a trail of thick blood. Oh, how the day looked immediately brighter with one source of threat removed!
The grasshopper king would have happily patted its own shoulder if it could. Meanwhile, Kassmera cut out the whole mole affair and was just about to direct her steed away.
However, one sideways glance captivated her, although not in a pleasant way. A half-rotten bear carcass lay in a hollow. But neither the impressive fur she might still be able to salvage in part nor the strange plants growing around and on top of it attracted her attention.
Kassmera cared about the living, not the dead. She looked closer. The tragic picture reflected in her bright hazelnut eyes was really not deserted. It wasn’t her imagination.
Well-hidden in some unassuming corner close to the parent lay a cub, either dead or unconscious due to malnourishment. Kassmera’s choice was clear.
Not much later, a neon-coloured, mightily overcumbered grasshopper almost broke its back as it forcefully climbed the heaven-piercing trees into the colourful world above.
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A woman was frantically clutching a giant carrot and a bundle of leaves in her hands while occasionally keeping the furrball from falling off as her tired steed broke into the hawk’s prison.
While cursing like a foul-mouthed sailor, she gently traced over the many blue spots adorning her unfortunate rear and inner legs. The tingling feedback made her utter yet another barrage of ill-suited curse words.
That woman was obviously Kassmera. As compared to before, the woman was in a much better state because she had both the energy to curse freely and a goal to pursue.
Kassmera gave the impression that the strenuous outing only served her well. Actually, she had a few minor complaints here and there, but they only ended up tempering her growing force of will.
Life in the forest had made of her nothing worth striving for as a woman born in the pedantic Kingdom of Dawn–––or so her exasperated mind told her. And she was very happy with that situation.
It gave her the necessary proof to conclude that her quest to break away from conventional shackles was on the right track. The next thing that was so too, was help for the juvenile hawk.
A pair of profoundly intelligent eyes greeted Kassmera on her return. Although somewhat duller than the last time she saw them, they nonetheless radiated soothing warmth and a strong will to live.
It summoned her. She answered. With wobbly steps, she approached with a bundle of ingredients on her back that could allegedly save the king of the sky, leaving both insect and furrball behind, quivering.
The woman’s ride wasn’t very happy since she approached a terrible predator out of her own free will, but she paid no attention to its rattling.
To avoid scaring the bird, Kassmera slowly procured a sharp stone from her bundle, turning it gradually for a moment. She started tugging, milling, and cutting at the prison bars to the best of her humble capability.
Getting the right parts off without destroying the main structure wasn't easy. With just one wrong move, the hawk’s fate would’ve been sealed.
In the end, her meticulousness paid off. Hardly any obstruction cut into the bleeding body more than was absolutely necessary. Despite the buckets of blood Kassmera was drenched in, she had only eyes for her patient.
There was nothing more imperative than saving that majestic creature! In the next step, the woman selected some ingredients from her bundle, ripped off a chunk of carrot peel, and put it into her mouth, chewing it into a paste.
As soon as it reached the right consistency, Kassmera spat it out and applied her magnum opus directly to the wounds. So many times did she repeat these steps that her masticatory muscle was seriously sore.
Her half-baked treatments weren’t the most painless options, but there was nobody there to tell her that. Yet it needn’t be flawless. Her only task was to prevent the hawk from bleeding out and reduce the possibility of accruing infectious diseases.
If she succeeded, her efforts would have paid off handsomely. As strange as it may sound, the hawk provided valuable feedback and gave Kassmera well-timed clues as if its thoughts were her own.
A fantastical connection gradually bloomed between them. After a while, Kassmera became too tired to continue with such care for details. Therefore, she crushed everything that was left in her bundle by putting her whole weight on it.
At first, half of the materials were only slightly damaged at best, far from the paste she wanted them to become. Kassmera had to improvise more, jumping up and down on the bundle, kicking and punching away at it in between ever-increasing intervals until sweat flowed in rivers and her breathing became that of a locomotive.
Despite the occasional muscle spasms and the blurriness in her vision, she somehow managed to persevere in her inhuman efforts until the end.
After messy spills and much wasted medical essence that would probably cause a certain Master Strategist to cry willingly, Kassmera extracted a bit of oil-like substance that she diligently rubbed on the worst injuries.
However, her untrained hands could do nothing more than fix the few jigsaw-like cuts and tears in the hawk’s beautifully streamlined body.
Both the number and quality of materials were lacking, as was her stamina and knowledge. Kassmera was so fatigued she hardly gathered a meaningful thought. In the end, the woman had done everything she could.
Kassmera had trouble standing yet said nothing as she watched the hawk. The minutes passed. Why... didn’t it fly away? Was the damage to its wings too severe? ...had her treatment been harmful, to begin with?
The worries and fears began to emerge once again, eating away at her confidence. While she was too focused on her fears to notice anything else, the hawk glanced at the grasshopper king, rolled its sharp eyes, and let out a penetrating screech.
The insect bowed to its wish and left them alone, relieved. Soon, there was only a quivering furrball and the two of them left. Having removed the eyesore, the hawk brushed its body in full view and set to work cleaning the feathers, unaware of the woman’s cute misunderstanding.
Though not for long. It seemed that Kassmera found her answer to the riddle and–––following a herculean effort consuming the last of her energy and fuelled by all her altruistic feelings, personal desires, and a godly angle she perhaps would never encounter again–––shoved the peeled Cursed Carrot down its throat.
The hawk was simply overwhelmed by the impossibility of receiving such unprecedented treatment and failed to catch up on time. Thus, it swallowed carrot and stem well-behaved and on reflex.
A human-like expression of disgust soon flashed across its stunned feathered face–––yet the carrot was a special treasure of Mother Nature that disintegrated itself as soon as it reached the hawk’s stomach, taking immediate effect and making it boil over.
It tilted its head as if to chide the human, but instead readied its wings hurriedly and intercepted its falling two-legged caretaker with a liberating grin plastered all over her freckled face.
The sudden movement necessary to save Kassmera from dropping into unknown depths caused the bird to fart uncontrollably, making it blush.
When it had just begun shaking the featherless creature with its wings, a much larger shadow zoomed in with the speed of thunder, eclipsing the suns as it dove down, its beak frozen in gleeful laughter.
As it watched the farting bird, its starry eyes were filled with relief. Recognition. And love too. ...and a clear distaste for the impossible smell that engulfed its delicate nostrils.
At that hour, a commendable deed was recognised. At that hour, a steep debt remembered–––to be paid back at a later time.
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An odd thing happened between the fifteenth and sixteenth attempts at altering the ointment formula. Specifically, a psychic impulse translating into extreme danger rattled the intrinsic connection the State shared.
Followed by another burst immediately after. One that was rife with confusion and plenty of distrust. Misery loved company, indeed.
The next change came abruptly enough for Linlin to jump up from behind his workbench in panic and become irritable due to his paranoia.
Before he could focus on anything other than the alchemical whirlwind in his head caused by his lack of concentration, one culprit was just about to trespass behind his doorstep.
An enormous shadow blotting out the suns made sure of it. One giant shadow and a far smaller carbon copy circling behind it, to be exact.
Even with all his guts and the world’s greatest army, he couldn’t handle such a monster. Not beside the dangerous cauldron spewing potentially toxic fumes. The synthesis attempt had yet to come to an end!
But after staring at the uninvited newcomers for a while, Linlin grew calm. If the bird wanted them dead, then they would’ve died already. That was just how much power it exuded, not to forget the incredible energy cruising through its giant body.
The hawk stared down imposingly at the small man daring enough to make eye contact with it, totally unimpressed by the horrendous killing intent that had warningly accompanied its flight from a distance.
There was something like sparks flying off between their gazes–––one starry, the other abyssal black–––obvious enough to transmit a certain feeling either way. Linlin knew.
So did the gargantuan bird. First of all, his special eyes had a minimal effect on the hawk, and he barely perceived the bird in his field of vision. The energy it contained was just too radiant.
Second, and most importantly, they wouldn’t get along. There were no logical explanations, just a gut feeling. And it sufficed. As the bird shrieked annoyedly, whatever it was thinking before had been forgotten.
The little one approached, revealing a joyfully smiling, familiar figure on its back who, completely ungracefully, slid down and landed in the high grass lengthwise and face first.
After some initial struggles, a dirt-crusted, freckled face covered with long, tangled brown hair, resembling the appearance of a hedgehog, rose above the tall grass.
She held a fluffy furrball smeared in blood that seemed to be a creature in its infancy in her arms. Linlin noted Kassmera had kept it safe at her own expense. Her left arm was bleeding profusely as there was a large tear in her flesh. Kassmera discovered him too.
As soon as the woman saw Linlin’s expressionless stare land on her, all self-esteem and confidence or whatnot crumbled like a house of cards and she lowered her head in unwarranted fear and trepidation.
In any case, her trembling shoulders gave Linlin a rebellious feeling he could hardly interpret. What happened to her to change so much...? But there was something he had to do first besides thinking. ‘Figures. The blindfold. Where have I lost it again?’ ‘Lies below the workbench.’
‘Gotta take it now. And while I’m at it...’ Our protagonist ignored Kassmera’s evident strangeness, returned to the workbench and the cauldron adjacent to it, looked for something, rummaged some more through the pile, and came back with a blindfold on and a bamboo tube in his hands.
“Here. Drink.” He demanded sternly, handing the woman a tube with still hot, purple liquid inside that had yet to cool down. And after she didn’t react fast enough, he added, “preferable now, not later.” ‘She really needs to get that cleaned as soon as possible.’
‘On it.’ In response to his impatient demand, Kassmera stiffened, pondered a bit and suckled hesitantly at the tube. Despite the blindfold obscuring the schizophrenic alchemist’s forehead, she painstakingly avoided making eye contact.
Soon after, Kassmera bent over and gurgled, groaned, wheezed and vomited her bowels out while our protagonist labelled the latest itineration a success.
Even the dirt on her wound was being expelled. “Big One, it’s not my turn to speak much. Thanks for bringing her back and all, though.”
With exaggerated goodwill, Linlin addressed the giant hawk looming over him like a mountain, his choice of tone really odd. “But sure you wanna deal with that crazy many?”
His words were backed up by a terrible crack in the distance, suggesting something giant had broken under the strain of too many bodies dragging over it.
In response, the hawk cast what looked like a scornful gaze over its shoulder in that direction that was all-encompassed by deadly killing intent and spoke: “A debt of gratitude does not remain unpaid, Cursed One.
There’s no point in sending her henchmen my way, whether through space or on foot–––for we don’t mean any harm. Of the others, I cannot speak. The Queen of Disasters can put aside her worries.”
Linlin nodded in understanding. The hawk was clearly familiar with Azariah and with the other tiny problem they faced. In addition, it was not interested in confrontation, which both personalities appreciated.
When they considered what it might wish to achieve by coming here, their object of thought made it clear on its own. The gargantuan bird pecked a small wound in its soaring wing that healed shortly after.
It guided some blood droplets into Kassmera’s bloodstream, said goodbye to them, and left with its young in tow. ‘This is… unexpected. Against all odds… And her body’s crazily changing after the blood injection. Don’t tell me it’s essence blood?!’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s her fortuitous encounter. We lost, she passed. Only… how to make good use of her? Any idea? Azariah...’ ‘Heh… this can wait.’
‘..true that. No unwelcome guest intrudes into Azariah’s sovereign territory unscathed. Argh, why are we always so unlucky?! We better act before the wrong information is disclosed.’
‘Sigh. This is not conducive to the ongoing ingredient collection and processing. We also have to fear the possibility of undue punishment.’ ‘Aye... should have told her earlier. Or at least given some hints.’ ‘Who knows... No use crying over spilt milk, anyway.
This might become a very special day.’ As it turned out, Pansy was right. It marked the first time Azariah questioned Linlin’s forthrightness and modus operandi. It marked the day of a certain... scolding that Linlin would remember for months to come.
It also marked the day villager Kassmera died for good. On that fateful day, a future force of majestic Mother Nature took her first steps: The one and only Beast Mother was born!
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End of Chapter 5