Orc and Bunny

Chapter 5 - Anne in Wirmbold

Ansemoni was bored beyond all reason. She itched to join the other rangers in the forest to the west. Only the rangers dared to enter the forest to the west. It was their job to eliminate threats to the village.

On this perfect afternoon for adventure (and there was only one thing Ansemoni loved more than adventure) she was instead babysitting Belmoral’s sick grandmother.

She sighed on the bench next to Granny Grunetha’s bed. She stretched, enjoying the popping sensation in her back and shoulders, before she continued repairing the fletching on her arrows. It was mind-numbing work, but if she didn’t do it, she would be next to useless at her job. She was deft with a knife, of course, but that isn’t going to stop a charging norak, or an arathmen.

BANG!

Ansemoni jumped at the sudden noise, then she swore as the knife dug into her thumb. Belmoral had kicked open the door to her shack, and laid a big weird rabbit (Wait… is that a rabbit person?) on the empty bed next to Granny’s.

Anne came around to the pungent smell of herbs and medicines. There was the clanking of something against glass, and the bubbling of something boiling. She couldn’t muster the energy to even open her eyes, so she lay there and listened.

“Are you sure this isn’t just some sort of weird costume?” a voice asked as she felt a sharp nail against her forehead.

“Quite sure,” a deeper voice responded, further away, but the voice carried.

“Or a mutant rabbit?” the first voice asked.

There was a moment’s pause from the other voice.

“I don’t think so,” the second voice finally responded, “she asked for help. Have you ever heard of a mutant that can talk? Plus there was the upheaval.”

“Sure, there was an upheaval in this backward part of Wirmbold.”

“I told you what I saw, what else could it have been?”

“Some mad wizard conducting experiments on the local wildlife, obviously.”

“You’ve been listening to too many of Granny’s stories.”

“Says the girl rescuing upheaved mutants from hordes of goblins.”

Anne suddenly remembered the danger she had been in, and sat bolt upright. Her forehead smacked right into Ansemoni’s nose. Both her head, and ribs screamed in pain at the movement, and she fell back against the softness of the bed she was laying in. She rubbed her head, and gasped at the pain in her abdomen.

She tried to roll to her feet, but instead of catching her, her feet stayed tangled in the blanket that was on top of her.

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“Hey!”

Anne lay on the ground, eyes wide as she finally saw the owners of the voices she had vaguely overheard.

“Aaa!” she screamed, eloquently, then a painful, “OW!”

“Calm down, already,” the woman who addressed Anne had horns! And was that a tail?

“Careful, you’ll injure yourself further,” the other woman said. Her face was kind, but she had pointed ears coming out the side of her head, green skin, and tusks! She also had more muscles than Anne had ever seen in her life.

“A-am I dead?” Anne asked.

“Wow, you found a bright one didn’t you?” the horned woman asked the green-skinned woman. they both stood over her.

“Ansemoni, be nice,” the tusked woman scolded the horned woman, before turning to Anne and offering a hand up, “You nearly were, you were lucky that I was around when you were upheaved, or you would have been goblin food.”

“Goblin? Like in the fairy stories?” Anne tried to wrap her head around all the weirdness happening around her, but her head felt like it was full of cotton. She sat on the edge of the bed, as the world whirled around her.

“Hey, I am nice,” the horned… no, Ansemoni? objected.

“Then be nice, and run and get the Magister,” the tusked woman helped Anne lay back on the bed. Ansemoni grudgingly left muttering something about being killed by a mutant rabbit.

“My name is Belmoral,” she continued to Anne, “what’s yours?”

“Anne.”

“Well, Anne, I can only imagine that you have a lot of questions.”

Anne tried to nod, but a fresh wave of nausea filled her body.

“Careful with your head, I think you have brainbleed.”

“Could I get some water please?”

“Of course, just a second,” Belmoral stood from the stool she had pulled up, and a moment latter gently helped Anne drink. The water was refreshing, and in that moment possibly the best thing she had ever tasted. Her stomach however disagreed, and she was overcome with a fresh wave of nausea.

She vomited the water into a bucket waiting by the bedside. Once she was done, Belmoral patiently wiped her mouth.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You probably just haven’t eaten anything in a while.”

“Where am I?”

“You sure don’t start small do you?” Belmoral giggled, which at first Anne thought strange in her deep guttural tone, but she found that she actually quite liked it, “Let me see, the best way to explain… Ah, I know. You are currently in my shack, where I use herbs to treat the ill. It’s on the outskirts of our village, which doesn’t have a name. We just call it the village, but other people around call us ‘those darn Britomites’.”

Anne laughed at the funny voice that Belmoral used for ‘those darn Britomites’.

“Our village,” Belmoral continued, “is located on the island of Forstla, which is in what some call the Piratic Sea. I can’t quite recall the official name, but ultimately you are in a world called Wirmbold. You recently experienced what we know as an upheaval. A chunk of your former world has been moved here.”

“What?! How?”

“Careful, you need to remain calm,” Belmoral chided gently, “As for how, I’m afraid I don’t know. Even the best scholars in the world don’t know why the upheavals happen.”

“Oh my god,” Anne closed her eyes, thinking for a moment before continuing, “how do I get back?”

“Ah. Ummm…,” Belmoral avoided Anne’s intense gaze, “I’ve never heard of anyone returning. I’m sorry.”

At that moment, a tusked man in some sort of ceremonial robe entered the shack where Anne lay.

“Belmoral, this had better not be another of your wounded rabbits…”