I left quickly and headed for the well to sluff off the gore of the day.

Anna, blessed be her name, came out quickly with my third and last set of clothes, and I shooed the two sprites off, they floated their way over to Anna, who looked at their tiny forms and must have connected the dots on whom the second one was. She started performing pleasantries and walked back into the warm light of the house while I washed myself off by hand.

The cool water chilled my skin in the brisk, cooler evening air. I looked up and saw the moon hanging large in the sky. The off-colour chunk was dark and somewhat red against the bright, luminescent blue-white of the other two-thirds.

It was not full, not yet, that would be in a week's time or so, the brilliant shine of the stars was already beginning to be blotted out by the giant moon. It was large enough to barely fit in the palm of my hand.

It would be the first full moon since I had awoken, the end of the first season after my awakening.

I cupped the water over my face and scrubbed with my hands, getting the viscera out of my poor hair, the flecks of it off my ears and mane.

The mane would thin a bit with the coming summer thinning to let more heat out. My arms and body would lose what little I had, and it would come back in the late fall thicker and warmer than normal.

I wonder if the water will mess with the heat and the chill of the summer and the fall.

Wait, I can ask, “Land, does the water make the summer sun cooler and the winter chill warmer?”

I waited while I washed off the gunk, and pulled my ruined, tattered clothes off my body, and got to carefully washing out my cuts and the gore. I would get an infection unless I cleaned them out soon.

Alcohol would be good, though I would need a distillate. I haven’t seen much in the way of alcohol here, let alone distilling. I don’t think I’ve seen one [Alchemist], and you generally don’t see distillation without them. Maybe I could visit a blacksmith?

My mind whorled around, the cool air felt nice against the warmth of my body. I basked in it for a few moments before I asked again.

“Land? Are you ok?” I asked, more focused on the cool feeling of the water than my thoughts. I closed my eyes, relaxed my ears and just savoured the night.

“Yes, more questions?” It asked in return.

“Sorry, I think I missed the answer, could you say it again or send it again? What’s the right word for it?”

“Sounds funny, water makes seasons less seasonal until dead winter or deep winter.”

“Oh, makes sense. Is it going to be dead winter or deep winter this year?”

“Deep winter.”

“Oof, that’s going to suck. Winters deepest makes light of summer's abundance… Is that how the poem went? I forget.”

“Should focus on here and now, my [Druid] worries,” the land told me, the ideas it sent me bordering on human-level thoughts.

Had I been gone for so long, I was clean or as clean as I could get myself without a bunch of soap and something to scrub with.

Huh, I guess I lost track of time… What was I? Oh, right, clothes, I need to get in my clothes and go inside for food. Anna made dinner, and there were people, I’m going to bet a 7 or 8 tonight. Anna is too good for this world.

Why am I so loopy? Am I droopy? I’m loopy and droopy. Am I drunk? No, I can't be drunk, I haven’t drunk anything in a while. I should drink something I’m kind of thirsty.

I fumbled drunkenly into the clothes, fixing the dressy smock the humans favoured over a tunic, it was a bit fussier, not simply thrown over oneself and belted, but somewhat folded to help cover more of a body than any one piece of a tunic.

I looked down at myself, double-checking the way it fit, the way it sat on my body and adjusted it again before I started inside. The moisture on my skin stuck the smock tight to my body.

I quickly moved back and poured out the bucket to rinse off my best tunic before I folded it and moved back inside.

I stubbed my toe on the cursed sword, but couldn’t be fucked to deal with that, so I put it in with my clothes, covering the blade as best I could and tucked it under an arm and moved to the door.

I Put my stuff down just outside to not bring the smell in, and moved the shovel to the side to keep the gorey blade away from the doorframe because it was quite gross in and of itself before I entered.

The inside was warm compared to the outside, the hearth fire warming the space just right. It reminded me of the church, of coming in on a cold day and being met with the warmth of the place. It was like a hug from your loved ones and a blanket rolled into one.

Inside, I saw the table, the same faces around it, still talking, but now a bit more subdued from my first entrance.

Anna and Strause were there with the unfamiliar faces, not next to one another but across the table, which was piled high with different foods, some sandwiches, what looked like bottles of stuff to drink, and plates of meat and greens. It was so much food that it almost distracted me from the other two guests.

Next to Strause was a woman with a very neutral expression, she gave the same vibe as Strause, a kind of hidden feeling, like she was concealing a part of her that went beyond just hiding an emotion. It went beyond that, though, it was body language that was shared between them, it was in the tilt of their head and the minute expressions on their face. I couldn’t read them for the life of me right now, but I could take a look at her with my special eyes.

My special eyes gave me the special information, the information that was reserved for those with eyes as special as my own. She had brow hair of a length that was less likely to get caught on stuff around shoulder length, she was taller than Anna and a little younger than me, probably by a few years, at least two, so around 19 years old. She had brown eyes, lighter skin and thinner arms like Anna and Strause, which told me she was no farmer and likely did lighter work inside.

My special eyes, which were like normal human eyes but glowy, told me all of this, relaying it to my wibbly mind.

My wibbly mind made a very important deduction. If I had to guess, I was probably the person with the biggest muscles at the table, which just made it more unfair that I was probably the weakest person here, even if it was stats per level, if not in bulk.

Or the weakest person, with one exception.

My mind took in the odd one out, cogitating its great calculation of immense importance for a few minutes.

As my brain calculated, I moved in, towards the seat next to Anna and the new young woman.

There was a plate ready for me, so I scooted on over and sat down. The casual talk quieted down as a bunch of people turned to face me, even the sprites, who had a tiny plate for themselves and were eating singular pieces of food so large in comparison it would be like me eating a whole chicken.

I tried to tap into my limited Charisma and spoke up, addressing the table guests.

“Sorry about that, everyone, and thank you, Anna. I was… a bit of a mess, sorry if I stole your appetite.” I told the group, not quite chuckling but still awkward enough to choke a man.

I smiled, aiming for an attempt at politeness.

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

I suppose that’s what I got for having twice as many points in Intelligence and focusing on physical attributes instead of social ones.

I tried to read their expressions, but I had a hard time reading them. One was Anna, and she was a bit worried, it was easy enough to read with the time I had spent with her, but the rest were hard to read from lack of know-how and whatever skills Strause and the woman next to me had that made their faces blank.

The woman next to me moved her hand oddly, but that was it for her, and Strause was, as always, grinning like a moron or like he knew a joke that everyone didn’t.

As for the second new guest…

I had no idea why she was even here, Strause and his friend… girlfriend? Acquaintance? They at least had a direct line with Anna; one of them was Anna's brother, and the rest of this was totally unknown territory.

Oh go…sh, am I supposed to introduce myself? Am I being rude? Aw man, I am, aren’t I…

I turned to the woman next to me and introduced myself to her with all the grace I had, which was very little.

“Um, hello, I’m Saphine, I’ve been staying with Anna, sorry about the grossness, I, uh, didn’t know anyone else would be here, especially this late.”

She nodded a little and brought her hand up from drooping toward the ground to her lap.

“Hello, uh, Saphine, I’m Joan, Joan Tavner, I’ve heard a bit about you from Strause but not a whole lot. It’s good to meet you, uh, grotesqueness aside, I’ve been interested in meeting you since Strause talked about you.”

She said it like she was worried about being offensive, but otherwise sounded genuine. I had no idea if that was accurate; her face never seemed to change from the cool, passive exterior, but that was how I read it.

“Good to meet you, Joan, Strause, good to see you again. I… Actually, I never introduced myself, did I? Huh… W-well, I suppose I should then? Um, hello, good to meet you again,” I stammered to Strause as I went around the table, right to left.

Luckily for me, he didn’t rib me for it, whatever it was that he hid behind his fake smile, it didn’t seem like it was anything bad.

The longer I puzzled it out, the harder it was to put into words, like whatever I was thinking about was on the tip of my tongue, but instead of coming to mind, it slid down instead of out. To top it all off, I felt disoriented and fuzzy. It had been coming and going as I floated down the river and had settled from a burble to an inconsistent burst of in-and-out confusion.

Part of me looked inward then, inward towards what was causing it, while I outwardly listened to Strause.

“Indeed you didn’t, you were a bit shaken up, though, and were still learning common, so its no big deal. I didn’t introduce myself either, I’m Strause, Anna's little brother, Clause wrangler, and all-around lady killer. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” He told me in an increasingly joking tone.

Anna Hmphed was a little cute, while I blinked, not knowing where to go with his wording and piecing together the phrase lady killer from a casual admission of murder targeting women to what I assumed was the intended meaning.

And Joan kicked him.

Not hard, but she did it.

There was no change to his face, but he leaned in and whispered in a pained tone, “I’m here to clear my name to my sister, she thinks I visit prostitutes for lascivious purposes,” he said, pain shifting to include foux emotion to it before he sat up in his chair and exclaimed.

“I could not bear the thought! My brother thinking less of me, I can, even my mother and father, but my dearest sister, my closest female relative, if you judge closeness by age, I couldn’t let it stand!”

He went on, talking like a madman, like he was living in a play, even giving an aside, whispering towards Joan, before going back to the same tone. It was… Not expected, which, while it was an understatement, was a way of explaining it.

I just stared at him, confused, as he rattled off an overly dramatic explanation that could be summarized as, I met Anna today and decided to have a potluck but went on for more than 40 seconds of uninterrupted, confusing, verbose explanation.

Joan kicked him again, and this time, it got a reaction. Strause winced before she, and he locked eyes and had a 4-second silent stare-down that ended in him acquiescing.

I felt like the conversation was about to lapse into an awkward quietus, so I asked, “Do you go for massages?”

I wanted to jump out of one of the shuttered windows when it left my mouth.

Why did I say that? That’s so stupid. Is the floppy feeling my empty head rattling?

Strause stared at me, Anna looked at me like I had grown a second set of ears, and she didn’t know if she liked the aesthetic, Joan wobbled like a shrub in the wind, the Sprites were too busy talking to the second guest trying to bum some meat with a sauce off her plate because they couldn’t serve themselves without getting things dirty. And the guest herself weirded me out in a way I hadn’t gotten to yet.

Strause blinked, then snorted, then in a moment of suddenness, his facade cracked, and he laughed. It was a short, clippy, hiccupping laugh, a warbling, snorting, and very off-normal expression for the normally uncanny goofy-looking man. I had only seen a fake face and a serious face, but I had never seen the underneath.

“I- Hugh, don’t think they know how to give one. Spfft, I suppose I should ask next time I check-in. I visit them for a few reasons, but mostly to keep tabs on stuff. They’re the good sort, I never even thought of passing it off as a massage. Heh, since when did they do that?”

He was laughing, teary-eyed, and not in control of himself.

In that moment, my Fritzy wisdom, abused by the day but still ever present, clicked something into place in my mind as I saw a tiny fragment of Strause. Cool, calm and collected? Goofy? Strause was none of those things.

And all of those things.

He was hiding what was underneath because it was vulnerability.

He was sudden, abrupt, everchanging and malleable, made from the energy that wanted to play off the room and himself and a state of mind that could be used and abused.

People saw Strause, and saw the mask, the meat. Then he showed the seriousness, and they thought they saw the bone. Strause was not meat nor bone but the marrow. Hidden behind action, inaction, and falsehood. I got a peek, there one moment, but soon enough, the moment passed, eaten by the sands of time.

He wiped a tear from his eye, and the goof was back.

Joan smiled, Anna blinked, and the Sprites got a bite-sized piece of meat, the sauce making my stomach rumble from the smell alone.

“I did not mean to even ask that,” I told him.

“I know, I know. It was a good thought; you have good instincts. It's good to see you… Well, not more stable, but lest… Volatile? Explosive? Either or, I guess.”

With the weird time Strause gave off over with, Anna chided him from across the table about her being able to look after herself, Joan had a hint of a smile, at least for a moment, then I turned to the last guest.

It was daunting, the idea of talking with her was a bit weird for more than one reason.

I had been thinking about it since I came in and got a good look at her and saw her long blond hair.

She was an elf, a short, very childish elf, and she didn’t even have the hair, elves got brighter hair colours when they aged before it turned white; the colour depended on the elves heritage, but they did have coloured hair. It was like Kobolds and our traits, or the type of animal or plant a goblin took after.

The child was blond, however. A sign that she was still young, not fully matured. I could spot some pigment, a tiny tint of colour, a faint leaf green that would probably compliment her eyes, but that was it.

I didn’t know what to do about this. I had been thinking about it since I walked in, and I couldn’t figure out what to do about it. My normal level of instinctual understanding, fueled by my wisdom, was on the fritz, and it had me acting unwise. I had spat out my massage comment on instinct, and I hadn’t liked that one bit despite the lightness that had come from it.

So I didn’t say anything as I thought about it. She was relatively familiar, the type of familiarity of having seen them before but not remembering where or when.

I didn’t get much time to consider because she looked up at me after bargaining with the sprites and introduced herself.

“Hello, Saphine, was it? My name is Gunther.” She said it and gave a toothy grin, a very toothy grin, a very pointy, very predatory grin.

She had teeth, more like a wolf than a Human. That didn’t scare me, though, I grinned back.

She blinked.

“Huh, that usually works,” she said, a bit disappointed.

“I bet it works all the time on Humans, but I’m not Human, and before you ask, I’m not a Beastkin either,” I told her.

She spoke up a little huffily.

“I can see that, I know you’re not. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time on the road as the [Carvan Master] of the West Winds Caravan Company, and you are not one of the things I’ve seen. You're definitely not a Beastkin or even halfkin… What are you, I wonder?”

She obviously wanted me to bite and waited for me to answer, taking a drink from her mug that I could tell was alcohol.

A memory clicked together. Me and Anna, setting up an account at the merchant's house, the child at the bar, drinking.

“Huh, I’ve seen you before at the merchant's house.”

She raised one dainty eyebrow as if that was not particularly important.

“And what of it? Am I not entitled to creature comforts? I am a merchant with decades of experience, they treat my company well at the houses… Or are you confused on some other piece of tedium? You can have a drink by the way, I’ll pass a bottle to you if you want some.”

She said it cockily, cards to the chest like a shield, blocking with one hand and poking with the other.

I took no such precaution, I just swung for the hills, “I would have thought a merchant's guild would know you’re a child and not give in to clout when it comes to giving you alcohol, I’ve met elves before, your not even a teenager, you’ve got no colour in your hair.”

She looked at me, a change overcoming her, first confusion, then annoyance, which quickly morphed into disbelief and that discomfort, the look followed by a hand, tiny dainty fingers, not quite spindly, not quite Human, reaching for her hair to pick through it.

A momentary tick, followed by a thoughtful pause.

The pause brought forward a sudden, perilous feeling of familiarity. The same as when Anna whispered to me in the dark but bereft of comfort, familiarity and care.

“I hate to say this, but whoever told you they were an elf was selling you something. I might be short, but I’m fully grown. There aren’t any elves left, those cowards ran. We might be their sloppy seconds, but that’s no reason to treat me as a kid, kid. I’m probably ten times the age of your parents.”

I sat there and mulled it over, then reached out my hand.

“Pass me some wine if you have it over there. I need to stop walking into stuff like this, and I want to ask a bit about that. I can give you a story, if you want it, or a little history, if a story is too childish for you, kid, because the last time I walked the world was before your parents were born, even if you're older than my mom, I doubt you're older than me.”