I’m tempted to head back to the kitchen and tell Old Granny that Granin punched me, but I’ve got a feeling the other Death Moths are already doing it for me. Unless they’re trying to punch him back. I literally replay the memory of watching him casually dunking on hunans and realize that if he is an angry drunk, he might not hold back on his own.

“Ah... Regrets,” I stand up, bouncing on my feet before bracing myself. “He better appreciate this...”

I run, transfer to him, transfer us while now running away from him instead of to him, drop anchor while transfering us into my void, and keep running. Just because I’m helping him doesn’t mean I’m willing to be his punching bag. I transfer back out of my void and into the Death Moth kitchens, noticing screaming and bleeding people before I race out of the cooking cave and Wind Walk back to where we’d been waiting for dinner.

There are still forms, concerned murmurs, and bad vibes. The still forms aren’t dead, though. They’re sullen.

“Ah,” I grimace as I realize I should have realized he needed to sleep it off sooner. Although, in my defense, I don’t know anything about him other than he’s a great fighter and drinks a lot. “Okay, that sounds bad.”

Welp. Time to tattle.

-*Old Granny!*-

I transfer back to the kitchen and take a wooden spoon to the face.

“Fuck! Ack!” I recoil, hands instinctively grabbing at my injury, writhing as I wait for the sting to fade, but I think she scared me more than anything. I’m scruffed, spun, and tossed to the ground. “My pride!”

-Shut up and sit still. I’ll show that bastard a lesson if he thinks he can disrespect me in my Grove!-

I look up to see a pissy and pissed woman with twitchy wings making a valiant stand. I’m not sure if she’ll care that he hit me considering he hit everyone, but I should probably find out if there’s a way to calm him down. I brought the booze, fater all.

-Why’s he fighting?- I whine, rubbing at my nose, and keeping my hands up just in case.

-We’ve been cooped up with nothing for him to do. He can’t fight anyone because it’ll alert the other hunans, and we don’t have any real work for him. He’s just being pissy,- she hisses and spits.

-So he’ll calm down if he gets to fight?- I ask, realizing that I just dropped the angry drunk fighter in my burrowing fish infested void. -I might be able to help with that. Do you know where his spear is?-

-Have you checked his other hand?- Old Granny snaps. I turn to see her spinning the large spoon like a flag dancer, feel a little rascist that she gives off female Granin vibes, -- how is that rascist? She’s a badass and a girl. Didn’t say “all Death Moths can fight”, ‘cause clearly they can’t, -- and wonder if I’m the asshole for wanting a few bodies between me and the drunk cripple in my void.

-Know anyone who might be interested in fighting a couple of those eels?- I don’t know how many got out, and, yes, I am an asshole. -I dropped him off to fight a few, and earlier he said the kids would love to. Know which kids?-

-Get down here, you little shits!-

I glare at Old Granny in terrified disapproval, frowning with all of my limbs tucked in, protectively shielding my spear and milk bags. While I’m trying to figure out why in the hells she’s banshee shriek, rallying war crying a drunk one man army, she turns and notices my protective curl.

-That what it take to get your blood flowing?- she turns her baby mouth full of shark teeth my way.

-Grinan!-

There’s a clatter behind Old Granny, but she doesn’t turn her little goblin grin from me. When she starts growling, narrowing her eyes at me and slowly rubbing her stomach in a small circle, a small army of chubby shark-toothed infants appearing to either side of her in a tidal wave, I stare in horror at the premonition.

-We didn’t do it! It was the old man!-

Thank god for sex repellent! Old Granny finally notices the kids, her eyes still narrowed but her expression, and her hands, -- thank gods, -- drop. She huffs before turning to the naked, balls of uncooked dough waddling around her.

-Go with this one and help him retrieve my idiot brother. He says that piss for brains is probably fighting off more eels, so you’ll help bring them back here for smoking and cooking. Got it?- she snaps, the children all giving answers in the affirmative. -Now go get your weapons, and someone bring his spear.- The children, excited to show up to be yelled at, seem very disappointed that their berating is over, shambling off and leaving me with the pervert. I’m hoping they ice-showered her, but she slow grins at me, eyes narrowing, giving a sassy little hip shake, and I feel like I’ve been trapped in sex predator’s dream as she smoker rasps at me. -Now where were we...?-

-Running triage on all of these injured people,- I yelp, turning to scrabble over to someone who looks sullen and bruised. -What do you normally use for bandages? Does anyone know how to make healing creams?-

I hear her suck her teeth, use Ultravision to peer down from the center of the ceiling, managing to somehow zoom out through the rock to see the entire room, and see that there are so many people with scratches who are actually bleeding. How’d I pick the one lightly injured one? Nevermind. I spot some people who look physically fine but shellshocked.

-Tch! How are you friends with my brother and squeamish?- her voice is dripping with disgust which means the rest of her should have dried up.

Whoo! Safe!

-We’re drinking buddies,- I say, recoiling as the person I was tending to leans against me for comfort. -Whoops! Sorry! You startled me.-

-Ugh!- old granny shakes her head.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Guess who’s never getting laid? Yeah... Wait.

-Which cave did he go through?- one of the shark babies gargles, the group returning. They’re wielding various wooden tools, knuckle-style claws mostly, and two of them are either struggling to carry what I’m assuming is Granin’s spear or low-key fighting for it.

Lots of uncoordinated shuffling. These guys might be more on my combat level. Not proud, but them I can watch for fighting tips.

-You’ll be going with that one,- she says, not even turning around to look at me as she waves towards me over her shoulder. I swear she’s shooing me off without looking at me.

-We’ll be moving into my void. There are many dragon eels burrowing around, so stay on guard --.- I glare at Grinan who stands around like she knows she’s got my attention and is pretending she doesn’t notice. Tch, can’t believe I fell for that.

I open a portal to my void, the room lighting up, and the children squeal and screech as they race through unprompted. What the actual fuck? What do they see? Does it have some sound or smell that I can’t see that says, “this way for everything you ever wanted”? I didn’t even say it was my portal! Those little shits just ran through on their own.

-They could have waited,- I grumble, Grinan loudly groaning over me, her volume rising as she drowns me out. -I’m going!- I shout over her, shutting the portal and transferring to my void at the same time.

When I arrive I’m staring at Granin who wields a wooden knife, dragging it through a dragon eel at his feet. He stands with a frown as I notice that he has three at his feet, all of them cut open and cleaned. It takes me hearing the kids screaming in the distance to realize that the kids are gone.

“Motherfuckers!” I panic, turning to see if they at least stayed in sight of Granin. Of course they didn’t. “This. This is why I don’t have kids.”

-If I may impose upon you further, I understand that you’ve already helped us more than we’ll be able to pay you back, but may we keep these eels? I’ll stay and defend your lands, but you’ve seen them,- he trails off, bearing his teeth, looking furious, grey-knuckling the knife.

Is he going to gut me if I say no? What the fuck?

-Aren’t you worried about the children?- Am I the asshole for using the children as meatshields? Already asked, answered, and done. Try me, bitch!

Why the fuck is he laughing? I’m not threatening to harm them, I’m pointing out that they’re running around like numpties in an unknown area with unknown threats and get to watch in third person as the rotten crotch fruit do a drive-by on Granin with dragon eels. Corpses. They hunted down, killed, retrieved, and launched dragon eels at Granin in the time it took for him to ask me if he could have the pests spreading through my void.

Fuck, they’re spreading through my void!

“Gods bless!” I throw up my hands, opening a portal as Granin smacks the loud brats as they land around him.

I watch as he gestures for them to take the butchered eels, the viscera getting bundled up in chubby arms before I drop a basket at their feet, then the kids waddle their happy asses back through the portal I open back to the kitchens. I’m trying to figure out if they know where the portals go, ‘cause no one’s asking me, when someone sidles their happy ass from the kitchen into my void.

“Why?!” I shout, barely getting a quick glance before the newcomer, looking like a toddler, both wings intact, just walks off. -Why do they just walk through? They don’t know where the portal goes! What they see could be an illusion! What the actual fuck?-

-Calm down,- Granin looks at me in disapproval, the adult Death Moth seeing him and suddenly deciding that they want to be on the other side of the portal again. -There are no threats here.-

-This is my stomach,- I snark flatly. -You don’t have to be hurt, just digested.-

-Big stomach.-

I wait for him to say more, but he just goes back to gutting dragon eel. Fucker. I glare at him, deciding it’s more productive to see who all is invading my personal space. A screen pops up, populated with names and affiliations. I’ve got Granin and five goblin baby babies, then a blip as someone pops in, probably sees Granin, and pops back the fuck out.

Maybe I should take him up on his offer...

My eyes narrow as I imagine Granin just owning assholes who try to take over my void, then remember that this is where I make my booze.

“Pass,” I call out, walking off then walking right the fuck back when a group of people wander in and start spreading out. -Oy!-

-Where are the seeds?-

I look on at robed Death Moths, wondering why these guys are clothed so well. I continue to stare flatly at their demanding asses, waiting for them to mind themselves or see Granin and fuck off, but they just stare back at me. I heave a deep sigh, roll my eyes, and shake my head at them.

-We’re here to show you how to tend the plants,- the speaker tips their head at me.

Oh! They’re not belligerent. This is them being quiet and polite. Whoops.

Weird.

-Ah--,- shit.

I just banked the seeds. I didn’t get a good look at them. How am I supposed to know what they gave me? I close my mouth as a screen pops up, from my bank, filtered by seeds. I pull out a sample tray, a shallow wooden box that resembles a medicine jar box that I’d seen in Red Silk, each individual box, barely one inch by one inch, has it’s own type of seed in it. I give silent thanks, walk up to my “advisors”, and give a small bow.

-I have access to an assortment of seeds that I’ve come across in my travels. I will gladly accept your advice and recommendations,- I say with another small bow.

Holy fuck, did I eat a monk? Or a hostess? Shit, did I eat an escort? This measured polite respectfulness is from someone in a high serving class. That was some of that ritual politeness that money buys. Fuck, I’m sexy!

Would you pay me? I’d pay me...

I realize I’m giggling and bouncing lightly, proud as fuck and ruining my carefully cultivated appearance. I stand up, taking a deep breath to school my expression, and see that I accidentally broke the ice. The group bows, more relaxed, and slowly shuffle up to me to peer into the box. I immediately tune out as they point out various seeds, guessing at their origins and somehow knowing that some of them are for cooking, not for planting, and have been treated so that they can’t be grown.

I Will a short foundation, level floor, -- don’t want the seeds to roll off into oblivion, -- table, and cushions, gesturing for them to follow me to have a seat. I toss a squatting chair Granin’s way, hearing him grunt amidst a barrage of excited children’s voices. Fuck, I forgot the kids were loose.

With a small effort of Will the box shifts into a tray with small boxes that can be removed, the gardener gremlins pulling out the non-planting seeds while I set the table with snacks and drinks. I excuse myself, trying hard as fuck not to laugh, fail, keeping my head down to hide my smile, lose my smile because everyone’s shorter than me and just have to look up. I sigh, wander over to Granin to give him a snack tray, then turn and fight a grin as he discovers that I gave him a pot of water to drink.

-That’s what you get, you violent fuck!- I bellow back at him, cackling as he sputters and spits like I pissed in his drinking bowl. -It’s just water,- I tell the frowning gardeners, but they don’t look reassured. -I thought it was funny,- I grumble as I return to the table.

I’ve got a lot of seasonings and snacks. Fully a third of the seeds aren’t seeds, per se. Soft shelled nuts that shrivel like raisins, the soft shrink-wrapped meat can be peeled separate and boiled to make a tasty broth with fishy notes. Don’t give to hunans. It will boil in their stomachs, refine their stomach acid, and cook and dissolve them from the inside.

Fun.

They warn against eating it as is, saying the taste is like rotten eel. They call it Fish Spit broth, unofficially, and warn for me not to say that to Grinan unless I want to get grilled like a Water Monkey for the insult.