BrokenTree Village, Monster Territory

The three suns had nearly set by the time Hex dragged a large leaf carrying Dracala through the rotting fence marking the edge of their village.

His friend had suffered a severe blow to the head and her left wing was bent at an unnatural angle, but at least she was breathing.

Though the tears had long dried, he was sure his eyes were still red and puffy. The trek back had been slow and full of strange noises as dusk settled over the forest surrounding their home. He'd been beyond the fence past dark many times against his father's wishes, but it felt different this time.

Did that shadow in the bushes move? What was perched on the tree branch to the left? Footsteps of little critters were louder. Rustling leaves were more threatening. Something could jump out at any moment. But the crickets were still chirping away. That means it's safe, right?

To distract himself from the growing fear, he thought back to the strange arch they'd uncovered in Gulliver's Cave. Why was it so special? It hadn't looked like much, but the elf clearly thought differently. Maybe the gem was valuable?

He peered back at his sleeping friend. We're absolutely not going back to find out.

If Dracala had her way, they'd probably be venturing back out as soon as she woke. A few hours ago, Hex would’ve loved nothing more than to sneak out as soon as his father fell asleep, but now... Knowing that elf could still be lurking about...

He was only a slime, after all. I'm not cut out for adventures in caves or battles with elves. No matter how much I want to be.

He'd go back to the hovel with his dad. Ruben would heal his bruises and fix Dracala's wing. Then he'd forget this ever happened. If Dracala wanted to go there again she'd be on her own.

The bat shifted on the leaf as he went over a bump, but stayed asleep.

Ah, wolf pelts... who am I kidding? Of course, he'd go with her.

Through the dark, the first of the huts in the village finally appeared.

He stopped at the statue of the Creator at the center of the village. The marble carving of the Creator stood upon a stone tablet, His head even taller than the elf’s. He wore a robe and hood that completely covered His face, hiding any discernible features.

Words were etched onto the dais. ‘Keep the Rift sealed. Keep our world safe.’

Hex knelt before the shrine—as much as a slime could kneel.

Creator, please let Dracala be okay. Please help me be strong. Pl—

"Hex? Is that you?" a slime wielding a torch approached from between two of the mud-patched homes.

"Dad..."

"Hex! What happened?" His father rushed over, eyes widening as the light illuminated his bruises and Dracala on the makeshift sled behind him.

"We... We were attacked," Hex said. "B-By an elf." He slumped to the ground, leaning against the Creator’s shrine, his body finally succumbing to injuries and exhaustion from pulling Dracala all the way here. His eyes closed and he began drifting to sleep, but not before he heard his father say one last thing...

"What were you thinking?"

Hex woke in the village healing tent—a place he frequented far more than the average Monster. A soothing mushroom salve coated his bruises, and they already felt a little better.

As always, the first thing he did when he ended up here was to find the painting hanging beside his cot. In it, little Rupert played with a toy hammer and suspiciously real looking nails. Red whiskers already flecked his babyish chin—the beginnings of a classic dwarf beard, just like his father's.

Hex fist bumped Rupert's hand in the picture and smiled. Hey there, little guy.

He'd never met Ruben's son, but he liked to imagine they would've been friends based on the stories he'd heard. It would have been him and Dracala and Rupert running around exploring the wilderness.

Muffled voices drew his attention to the right. Three shadows moved behind a drawn curtain that separated his cot from another patient. He couldn't make out many of the words, but the drawn out drawling accents could be none other than Dracala's parents. The tone of voice suggested concern. And accusation. Likely blaming Hex for their daughter's misfortunes, as usual.

He hopped out of bed and leaned closer to the curtain to hear better, hoping they wouldn't notice.

"This is why she needs to be with her own kind," Dracala's father said. "There are plenty of other bats in the village. This never would have happened if she didn't have to live down to the slime and protect him at every turn."

"Aren't you being a little dramatic, dear?" Dracala's mother asked.

"No, I'm not. I—"

"If I may..." the village healer, Shaman Ruben, interrupted. "The concern right now is Dracala's well-being. What's done is done."

"Fine. I know you have a soft spot for the slime, but that doesn't mean we all need to follow your example. We'll be having a conversation with Dracala about the company she keeps, regardless of what you say."

"Once she's feeling better," her mother added.

"You're her parents," Ruben placated, his shadow behind the curtain spreading its arms.

"What's this about her well-being?"

Ruben took a long breath. "As I was trying to say before... Overall, she's in good shape considering the circumstances. However, I've examined her wing, and the break is severe. My recommendation would be to take her up to New Valour for treatment."

Dracala's father scoffed. "You want me to take my daughter up there to be cut open by some Humanoid scum?" That's absurd! What do you take me for?"

"Need I remind you that I, in fact, am also 'Humanoid scum?'" Ruben asked.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"He's just upset, Ruben," Dracala's mother said, soft and calm as ever. "You're different from most of them. You know that."

"Nevertheless," Ruben said, "the fact of the matter is I don't have the proper materials or expertise to fully heal Dracala's wing here. If you don't bring her north, I fear..." He trailed off.

"What is it?" Dracala's father asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"I fear she may never fly again..."

Hex scooted back up into his cot as Dracala's parents stormed out of the healing tent. A hollowness filled his insides. Dracala might never fly again. And her parents are right.

This is all my fault.

She could have stayed hidden or escaped the elf easily if she wasn't protecting him. He'd held her back.

The curtain slid aside and Shaman Ruben stepped into the small space beside Hex, his large belly pressed against the cot. Bones, small animal skulls, and other gold trinkets were ensnared in the braids of his unruly red beard.

"How's Dracala?" Hex asked, pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping, keeping his eyes cast on the sprawl of crumpled blankets at the end of his bed.

"She was awake earlier and asked for you, but I didn't want to disturb you."

The dwarf rested a large hand with thick, stubby fingers near the blankets.

"So, how much did you hear?" he asked, his voice soothing and relaxed.

"Enough," Hex admitted, still not meeting the healer's eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to all that, my boy. Dracala's parents are all fired up at the moment, but they'll calm down. They always do."

"They have a right to be."

Ruben frowned, his bushy eyebrows shading the grey orbs beneath. "Now don't go blaming yourself for things outside your control."

"Is it outside my control, though?"

"Oh, so you told the elf to attack Dracala yourself?"

"Well, I... No, but—"

"We each control our own actions, my boy. Slimes, bats, even 'Humanoid scum.'" He winked.

If only those words were true. None of this would have happened if I wasn't there.

"The elf called us fodder," Hex said, finally looking up. "What did he mean?"

"Ah, now that's a petty insult to be sure." Ruben checked Hex's injuries and re-applied the mashed mushroom salve as he spoke. "You can be sure that elf is an ignorant northerner if he was saying things like that."

"But what does it mean?"

Ruben paused his work and sat down on the cot beside Hex. "Some Humanoids—not all, mind you—but some, believe that Monsters are simply beneath them. A creature to be used. They see Monsters as weak and worthless, with the sole purpose of generating Heroic Energy to battle the Rift’s quakes and fuel their own powers. They send them through the World Gates to be slain by Heroes. Like 'cannon fodder,' as it were. Hence the insult."

"Is it true though?"

"They want it to be true. And maybe, in their small minds, they believe it to be... But no. Monsters are not weak and worthless. That's why the Creator gave us the Academy. To help Monsters and Humanoids alike learn and grow to make a meaningful impact beyond the World Gates and here in our world against the Rift."

"Could the Academy teach me to never be afraid?"

"Fear can be a valuable ally," Ruben said, standing up and grabbing more medical supplies from a cabinet.

"Doesn't feel like it."

"I imagine you would learn a great many things from the Academy, Hex. But never lose sight of what makes you you. Whether it's the Academy, Dracala's parents, even me... Follow your own compass and listen to your own heart. That's what makes you special."

Hex choked on a laugh and settled back into the pillow as Ruben finished with the bruises.

Putting his name and 'special' in the same sentence was comedic. There's nothing special about being a slime. There's nothing special about me. Ruben's being kind, as he always is. And I'm grateful for it... even if I don't believe it myself.

"You know I view you as a second son," Ruben said, not meeting Hex's eyes.

Hex nodded, his gooey center swirling from the warmth of the dwarf's words as he glanced back up at the painting of Rupert.

"I—"

The flap of the tent swung open and another slime entered, carrying a basket of food, herbs, and other assorted items Hex couldn't make out. He hopped over to the cot and cleared his throat.

Dad...

Hex looked to Ruben, his eyes pleading for him not to go, but Ruben only smiled and stepped out, leaving him alone with his father.

The older slime cleared his throat again, waiting expectantly, as if Hex was supposed to say something.

"Um... I'm sorry?" Hex said.

His Dad let out an annoyed sigh. "If you're not going to mean it, don't bother saying it."

And sit here in awkward silence for eternity instead? No thanks.

"You're the one who wanted me to say it," Hex mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, I would like my only son to take some responsibility for his actions. Is that too much to ask?"

Even though it was Dracala's idea to go deeper into the cave, it wasn't her fault they'd crossed paths with the elf, and Hex wasn't about to use his best friend as a scapegoat for his father's wrath. He'd just have to sit through it, which meant staying silent and trying to think happy thoughts as he ranted away.

"I'm just trying to protect you."

Oh good, the usual lecture is much easier to tune out.

"I know you think I'm overbearing," he continued. "Wolf pelts.... even I know I'm overbearing. You think I want to be this way? I don't want to spend all my energy worrying and reprimanding. Usually nothing bad happens... but this time it was worse. Who’s to say next time won't be even more serious?"

Hex allowed an eye to drift toward his father. The words were nothing new, but there was something different about his tone this time.

"I... I made a promise, Hex." His eyes were distant and glossy as he gripped tighter to the basket he still hadn't put down. "I made a promise to your mother that I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

What? My mother?

"You... never talk about my mother," Hex said, perking up for the first time.

"Yes, well, there's good reason for that. It was a long time ago anyway. And besides, we're focused on you right now."

You can't just open that door and expect it to close back up immediately, Dad. Hex couldn't contain himself. A hundred unanswered questions he'd kept bottled up inside for years began pouring out of him. "Why did she leave? What was she like? What color was she? Was she brave? Where did she go? How did you meet? What—"

"Ho there!" His father held up both appendages and dropped the basket to the floor. "Slow down, Hex."

Hex stopped, realizing he'd inched his way to the edge of the cot with each question until he was almost eye-to-eye with his father. "Sorry," he said as he settled back. "It just... I've wondered about her for so long."

His father sighed and pulled himself up on the cot beside him. "No, Hex. I'm the one who should be sorry. I've been selfish. I've avoided the topic because it makes me angry and sad and confused. But I was so worried today when you didn't return... I-I thought I lost you. And I couldn't imagine you never getting to learn about your mother because it hurts me. That's not fair to you. You deserve to know about her."

"Wha—"

His hand covered Hex's mouth.

"We'll get to all your questions," he said with a laugh. "Perhaps tomorrow. You still need your rest. For now, all you need to know is that she asked me to protect you until she came back."

Hex's eyes lit up. "Came back? Is she...?"

"No, son. I don't think she is." He patted the side of his face and hopped down from the bed. "If she were going to return, she would have done so by now. It's just you and me." He said that last part through pain, as if he didn't think he was enough.

"Dad..."

He picked up the basket and put it on the table beside the bed. "Just some things to help you recover." He turned away, hiding his eyes. "Now rest up, son."

Then he was gone.

Hex had never seen his father so emotional. So vulnerable. I didn't just make him angry. I made him worry. That's almost worse... No. It is worse. It's official. I'm a horrible son. It was a strange sensation to witness the strict guiding force in his life reduced in such a way—not a bad way, though. In fact, even though he felt guilty, it was comforting to know that he had this softer side to him, to feel that he loved his mother at some point, and to have some small understanding of why he treated Hex the way he did.

He examined the contents of the basket his father brought, but loud snoring behind the curtain interrupted his curiosity. Wow, Dracala. Really? You're vibrating the entire tent. From the sound of things, she'd be just fine.

He grabbed his blanket and carried it over to Dracala's side of the tent. A bandage was wrapped around her left wing, and she had as many bruises as he did, if not more. She snored again, the pillow beside her face reverberating with the intake. Hex held in a chuckle and arranged his blanket into a little nest beside her bed.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.

I'm going to learn about my mother tomorrow.

He couldn't wait.