With the pleasant scent of wildflowers and a light breeze beckoning us on, Clutter leads the way to the grave he heard about. Or… saw, I guess, since the tree recognized him. Didn’t he say he hadn’t investigated this place yet?
I stare a hole through the back of Clutter’s head as I follow him. “Clutter, have you ever been here before?”
He nods. Silently. Guiltily
“You said this was one of the leads you had left. How can that be true if the tree recognized you and you already knew the way?” I ask in a purely questioning tone, but Clutter winces anyway. “Hey, Clutter? I’d like an explanation if you have one.”
With a gulp, he nods again without turning to look at me. “I… did come here before to follow the lead. It was before I even met you, when I was taking odd jobs between finding quests to get some legitimate Worth. We came here, the tree showed up, and I… I… I ran away.”
He nearly chokes out those last three words. His shoulders sag in shame and his tail curls up between his legs, making him stumble over his own feet with every step. I don’t quite understand why that’s so hard on him, or why he felt the need to lie to me when he knew we’d be coming here. Something’s off. But I don’t know why.
“So you ran away from the big scary tree, but still know exactly where the grave is. Did you see it before you ran, or do you only know where it is from your info?”
“I…” Clutter starts, then glances even further away from me. “I actually saw the grave. It was huge, and scary, and overrun, and the others I came here with had to deal with it on their own. They came back a few days later, then the quest the tree gave us failed, and they fired me. One of them even lost an eye.”
“Ouch. Could they get a new one?”
Clutter nods. “I paid for it myself, since I’m the reason she lost it. But the worst part is… they weren’t even mad at me. Two of them even tried to console me–including the woman who lost an eye! She wouldn’t even let me pay for the whole thing, just half!”
I frown. “Isn’t it a good thing that they don’t hate you? Or do you really think you being there to fight… whatever the tree’s keeping at bay would’ve made all the difference?”
“I don’t know!” Clutter exclaims and lowers his face into his palms. “That’s the problem! I don’t know if I could’ve made a difference. Even now, I can feel the tree’s presence, and it’s constantly nipping my mind like thousands of tiny brain piranhas. It’s taking everything I have just to stay here to help you.”
Well, that’s definitely comforting–knowing your guide wants to run the hell away just from existing close to the memory of a tree. I can barely feel the tree’s magic on me now–it’s just like knowing someone’s watching me. Unless Clutter actually feels something else, this has to be in his head. Which, honestly, is the worst place for it to be.
Because if I want him to be useful for the next two investigations, I can't let him break now. So I’ve got a choice to make–risk it and hope he can hold himself together for however long it takes to deal with this, or tell him to run away and have Pearl guide me to where the tree wants. I drum my fingers against my thigh as I think, and while I stare at the back of Clutter’s head, I come to a decision.
If he turns back to look at me before we get to the grave, I’ll trust him. But if he doesn’t, he’s getting sent away until I’m done. Just as I nod to myself in acceptance, Pearl clears her throat to get my attention.
“I don’t think Clutter’s lying to us.” She says slowly, which was a possibility I hadn’t even considered. “My personal opinion is that he doesn’t have a single malicious bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to hide things from us. Just not for reasons that could actually hurt us.”
More like reasons he wouldn’t think could hurt us, but from the frown on pearl’s face, she knows that too. She sighs and shakes her head with her hands on her hips like a disappointed parent.
“There’s definitely still something weird here, Shelby. I don’t feel any threatening magic at all–not from the tree, or any of the graves, or… anywhere, really. If whatever’s here did actually rip someone’s eye out and injure more people, it did it without malice.”
Like an automated alarm system going off. Except here, the alarm would’ve been installed on someone else’s property. I don’t know if that complicates things or drastically simplifies them; of course there’s also the possibility that Pearl’s wrong, or the tree’s containment is doing a damn good job of containing. Guess I’ll just have to see for myself.
I reach up and give Pearl’s shell a confirmatory knock, which she returns by smacking her gooey knuckles against whatever she’s leaning up against. We both go right back to focusing on Clutter, with our combined awarenesses stretching out to feel for the plasticy grave. He still seems confident in where he’s taking us. Hopefully that’s not another self-protecting fib.
It takes a few minutes to cross the field of graves. I carefully maneuver around the floating wreaths, making sure not to touch even one of them, but Clutter isn’t quite as careful. He brushes up against a few, pushes others off to the side, and even runs into one when he gets spooked by a strange-looking lizard popping out of a flower.
“Be a little more careful. This is a graveyard.” I remind him as he grabs hold of a ring of lights and cords to move it out of his way. “Isn’t this just more fuel to piss off the tree?”
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Clutter vigorously shakes his head. “They’re magically protected. Nothing I do could break them, and they’re not actually grave markers. Well, they are, but they’re not… um… connected to the grave… unless they are. It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
He pushes the wreath in his hand off to the side, and it simply hovers away. Without turning to look at me, he motions at it as it comes to a stop. Then he glances around, careful not to make eye contact with me, and eventually focuses on a wreath of black stone with chalk-white childlike drawings scribbled on it. Just looking at it gives me a weird feeling–like finding a gravestone and seeing that it’s a little kid’s. And that it’s brand new.
Careful steps through the flowers bring Clutter to the wreath. I don’t follow him, and he doesn’t check to see if I do. When he gets close enough he rubs both of his hands together before pushing on the wreath. He grunts and strains, as if to prove he’s really putting everything into it, then backs off while shaking his hands.
“See?” He says without looking at me. Still. “If the grave is fresh, the wreath won’t move. But when the person underneath completely returns to the word, their wreath can move around the graveyard. Neat, huh?”
A glimmer of the not-coward version of Clutter returns for a second as he stares at the wreath. From what I can see, it’s almost like he respects the craftsmanship that’s gone into the things. Which makes it even weirder that he’s scared of the tree–scared enough to abandon people to their fates.
“Yeah, neat. But we’ve still got to move.” I walk over and pat him on the shoulder. “C’mon, big guy. The sooner we get done with this, the sooner you can leave mean old mister tree behind for good.”
He hesitates for a second, then nods meekly. “Okay. We’re close to where I saw it last time. I… I promise I won’t run away.”
I raise a doubtful eyebrow. “Sure, Clutter. Sure. Look me in the eye.”
Slowly, carefully, and nervously… Clutter turns away and keeps walking. His entire body shakes just a little, and I can see how this is affecting him. Poor thing needs therapy, but the way he is now, I can’t trust him to have my back. He won’t do anything to hurt me, but I have to pretend like he’s not even here.
I stick my hands in my pockets and follow him, more than a little disappointment making its way onto my face. Pearl clicks her tongue and shakes her head.
“We can’t take him into the quest with us if he’s this volatile.” She says with grim certainty. “If we get grouped up, there’s a chance he could make us fail. Or worse; so much worse.”
She raises an eyebrow, inviting me to say anything to the contrary, but I don’t have anything to say. After a few seconds of waiting she sighs and weaves her fingers together.
“Do you think he’ll actually listen to us?”
Ha. No way in hell–he’s attached to this. I shake my head, and Pearl instantly hums in agreement.
“Then we get to the end of this pre-quest whatever and make sure we don’t get grouped with him. It stinks, since he’s worked so hard for this, but… well…” She stares sympathetically at Clutter’s back as he takes shallow breaths. “What if there’s a bunch of these trees in the quest? Or what if something else spooks him and he runs during a really important moment?”
I nod. “I know.”
Clutter jolts, and almost turns to meet my eyes. But just before I can make out the very side of his eyes, he snaps back to staring straight ahead. So close. But his shame and self disappointment mixed with fear stops him. So we walk in silence until the ground shifts ever so slightly under my feet.
Visually, there’s no change. Flowers coat the ground, wreaths hover at chest height, and the ground itself is a well-manicured bed of green stuff that I can’t really make out from where I stand. But the sensation under my feet feels… squirmy. Like there’s thousands of worms under the cover of green wriggling and writhing to try and break free.
A violent shudder works its way up Clutter starting from the bottoms of his feet. This time, I can’t blame him–the sensation is just plain disgusting. Especially compared to how reverent and pristine the rest of the graveyard was up until this very moment.
“We’re close?” I half-ask, half state as I tear my gaze from the ground. “Which grave is it?”
Clutter shivers, snaps his gaze around manically, and whips out his arm to point at one specific thing. “That one.”
I look in the designated direction, and sure enough, there’s an anomaly before my very eyes. There’s a wide circle where no wreaths hover, where the flowers don’t seem to sway in the wind, and where a tiny trickle of strange magic bleeds out into the world. It feels like the boulder, but… well… ‘alive’ isn’t the right word. More like… active. Moving. But without any sense, instinct, or intelligence behind the motions.
“Yergh, that’s a horrible feeling. So, Clutter, you’re running backup on this one. Keep whatever’s in there from running away or… I don’t know… infecting another grave.” I shrug and roll up my sleeve to expose my holster. “Run away if you need to, but don’t get involved in the actual fight. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”
A soft whimper echoes out, then silence. I take a few more steps, but as the silence stretches on, a gnawing discomfort worms its way into my stomach. With a glance over my shoulder I check to see if Clutter’s even here any more, and when I do, my eyes finally meet his for the first time since he told his story.
All I see is self-doubt, fear, and anxiety. But he doesn’t look away. His knees rattle, his arms shake, and he’s definitely a little paler than before. Looks like he’s determined to watch, though. Which still isn’t enough to justify bringing him along on the quest.
I turn back, not disappointed or encouraged, just… normal. My feet squelch against the ground as I step into the circle that’s empty of wreaths, and instantly, the flowers press up against me with much more resistance. It feels like trying to walk through a bunch of sturdy reeds, not the gentle wildflowers from a second ago. Except they should be the exact same things.
Dim light emanates from the perfect center of the ring. I hold my hand out to block it as it grows in intensity, gleaming so bright that it forces me to completely look away. The phantasmal image of the tree sears itself into my eyes at the last second, and the trickle of magic becomes a plasticy deluge.
Without warning, the light dies out. With enough caution to power an entire army of crossing guards I turn back to look. There, in the perfect center of the circle, floats a simple red wreath. Dripping wax-coloured plastic tinged red that connects to the ground like a vile umbilical cord.
The squirming pulses all at once. I swallow hard and push shields into the coins embedded in my holster. Whatever’s down there… it’s not going down without a fight.