The Mother

Her Mother

Karra knew little about her mother.

She thought it was normal to. And it was, in a sense. If you asked someone what their mother’s favourite colour was, or what they liked to do in their spare time, most wouldn’t have a straight answer for you. But then you asked a mother the same questions about their child. And how long their answers could get, winding about the intricacies of no one else noticed, and it was because mothers love their children enough to hate them, and children hate their mothers enough to love them.

It was just the way it was.

The little she knew was this: her mother loved her, she was kind but stern, and she was the best mother in the world. Of course she was. Her cooking was the best, the stories she told were the best, and if there ever was a candidate for the ‘bestest’ person in the world, she would nominate her mother every day.

But there were little things she didn’t like, either.

Yes, her mother was perfect. But perfect things needed flaws, because they were first and foremost things, and things didn’t exist without flaws.

Her mother existed, all five foot of her.

And she had her flaws. She could be protective at times, a bit territorial over Karra, especially with the other mothers. Sometimes she could be very strict. And she didn’t like talking about Father, which was Karra’s favourite topic of conversation.

But Karra loved her mother, and that was the first and last thing she knew for sure.

About anything, really.

----------------------------------------

Rosemary

When Rosemary first met Junni, she already wanted to be friends with her.

She was a good guest, and therefore in her calculations, a good person. What kind of person who bothered cleaning their hooves before stepping into the grove, and dusting their hands before touching cups wasn’t? There was even a little spark of Karra behind those narrowed eyes.

The problem was that she didn’t seem as taken to them as they were to her. Especially not to Lepius, whom she stiffly gave a handshake and was done with. So, Rosemary took it upon herself to fight against the tide with a smile, and that brought them to now.

In front of the Hospes.

She and Junni sat watching the sun begin its descent. That wasn’t the main attraction, however, for that honour belonged to Karra, running circles around the grove and kept apace by a shouting man. And who else could it be but Sergeant Bendeit?

While he was initially impressed by Karra’s ability to knock him out senseless, he pronounced that she was lacking in what he called ‘hutzpah’ and so demanded her run a couple of laps with him.

A couple turned into many.

“She’s my wonderful girl, and I can’t thank you enough for helping her that night. Karra told me all about it… a hundred times, it must be, and you were a brave girl for dealing with that Stalkerwolf.”

“Thank you. It was my pleasure to.”

"Mm."

Then there was silence.

Both of them were floating on a drifting conversation. They couldn’t talk at length about any topic without relapsing to silence, but at least one thing always kept them buoyant: Karra. Her name was spoken as a concordant note. And when they did speak about her, Rosemary tried not to frown at the guarded tone in Junni’s voice, for she knew there was no blame and nowhere to place it.

After all, she would’ve done the exact same for Lepius.

Huh, that gives me an idea.

It was time to try a different avenue to friendship. A Lepius avenue.

“Did you know she fell asleep and ate a strand of my hair?”

The sudden shift could do anything, but Rosemary beamed when Junni didn’t hide her laughter.

“She did not. Because of the leaves?”

“Because of the leaves,” she ran her fingers down to the shaggy clump of leaves hidden under the rest, “take a look. See the molar marks?”

She could’ve redone her hair anytime she wanted, but why would she even do such a thing? And she told Junni as much, who then gave her the same look that Pellen had given Yurth when he had asked for a mother’s blessing to take Andura out on that day of love.

Her mana squirmed under it. How much she reminded her of Pellen.

“What do you like so much about Karra, anyway?”

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

“Well… she’s a silly girl,” and she felt Junni stiffen next to her, so she hastened on, “… I’m not going to deny it. But it’s a good kind of silly, the kind people mistake as clumsiness or negligence. It’s the silly that makes her a friend who is always thinking about others, and sometimes she thinks so much that she forgets what she’s doing. So she needs a friend who can remind her.”

Junni twirled a sunflower between her hands, “Hmm. Suppose that is true-”

“It is true.”

The bovine narrowed her eyes, “I know my daughter better than you do. Don’t cut me off.”

“Oh, um… I’m sorry.”

“Suppose that is true… what use is a friend like that?”

“That’s… a joke, right?”

Junni raised an eyebrow, “Do you think I am joking?”

“Well, okay. I guess… no, I know. I know I didn’t make friends with her to get some use out of it. You don’t make friends to get some use out of it. I helped her, and we talked, and soon I could not call her anything but my friend. She’s just… Karra. I can’t describe it.”

“No?”

“All… all I know is that when we talk, every word shortens the time between us… down and down, until the wind can't carry them all away. And so it listens… as we fill up the world to where halfway I occupy it and the other half her, leaving the rest for all the words we can’t say.”

“Hmm. Poetic, but for no reason. What did you speak to her about?”

“Oh, enough to fill a world and a half.”

“Do you always talk this pretentious?”

Rosemary giggled, “Only about Karra. I’m more… say… wacky when I’m with Lepius. But your daughter… it’s hard not to dream when you’re around Karra. You feel like you can do anything. She sucks you into her fantasies, all four limbs and the one mouth that can’t say no.”

“Gods. You’re hopeless.”

“I might be. Blame your daughter.”

She smiled when Junni did, “I never thought I’d see it, I guess. My daughter, so happy with someone else… it almost makes me a bit jealous.”

“Could you imagine her reaction if she heard there were people fighting over her? ‘B-but, I’m just Karra! People can’t be fighting over me!’”

“Hah! True, true.”

The conversation flowed after that.

“What’s her favourite thing to eat?”

“Easy. Sweetgrass. And her favourite drink is grassmilk. You’ll need to try harder to catch me out, Ms. Junni.”

“Hm. Alright. Does she have a birthmark on her inner thigh?”

“That’s- that’s cheating. I’m not supposed to-”

Junni laughed, “No? I thought you knew her down to the atom, Rosemary.”

She pouted, “You’re not playing fair.”

“I throw away all the fair things when my daughter is in the picture.”

“I thought you got angry at me for being poetic. Hypocrite, much?”

Junni nudged her with a hoof, and she couldn’t help but nudge her back.

“Quiet, you. I can see why my daughter likes you.”

“Really? Tell me.”

Junni said in the most serious tone, “You're annoying. You talk a lot.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“My daughter's not annoying. And she likes to listen. She’s a dreamer, a listener. You fit well together.”

“Aw, thank you.”

There was only one night of Karra for her to draw from, but for a moment she could imagine all the others, all the silly misadventures and clumsy daydreaming, and so they talked and complained about the young bovine who was huffing and puffing as her hooves kicked up dirt. Bendeit’s voice stalked her, always one step right behind.

“Why, you snot nosed little cow! Pump those legs, girlie! You think you can hit me in the head with an apple and get away with it!?”

She could tell Karra’s face was burning, even from here. How in Eldertrees Sergeant Bendeit had the air to shout those words with his usual voice eluded Rosemary.

“Sir, no, sir!”

“Damn right, now, one more lap!”

The poor thing latched onto both of them after Bendeit dismissed her, and Rosemary basked in the fact that her arms could stretch about most people now, and so nothing could avoid her warm hugs. Except for Bendeit.

She would let him make the first choice.

“Tired, my calf? That human was scary, but he isn’t wrong. Confidence goes a long way.”

That wasn't the right thing to say to a victim of Sergeant Bendeit, four times voted to be the most ruthless armstrainer in the province.

“Mother, my legs are gone. My confidence is gone,” she made a noise of a dying animal, before propping herself up, “Did you two talk? Mother, can’t you see that Rosemary is just so wonderful?”

They looked at each other, smiled, and Rosemary gave her a subtle nod to speak first.

“Yes, my dear. I suppose some strangers are worth knowing.”

----------------------------------------

?????

Below the hustle of a city upon a glacier there was quiet.

It wasn't the comfortable kind of quiet atop a hill, under sunlight. No, this was the kind that made honest folk look over their shoulders, at the dark alleys and half-open doors, and there were plenty of those in all the Kennelways across Panacea.

Inside one such half-open door was a bar.

There was no tasteful décor, nor a tune playing as would be in any other respected institution, for the attraction here was the company, and what a variety it came in. The hour was late, and so business was bustling. There were crocodilian folk tossing back shots of heavy hummels, cloaked figures deep in discussion, and bounty hunters watching, arms crossed, from their spots leaning against the wall.

Little did the latter know they were about to hit a payday.

A figure strode in, opening the door wide to invite in the cold air. He didn't close it.

Hands started moving to the hilts of daggers and swords after the chill settled. The more confident of them chuckled – who was this man in a hood, and why was he so adorably attention-seeking? Such a prankster? The more quiet kept their eyes on him and imagined what it was like to have him unmasked and sobbing, or a screaming decoration mounted on wall.

As anyone could expect, the mana in this establishment was putrid. Yet what was vile somehow complimented each other - greed, hunger, insatiability, malice - all swirling, laughing, and itching to bowl over the well-meaning citizen if ever one was stupid enough to walk in.

Before everything could devolve into steel, the man tossed a coin into the air. The material didn't reflect the glow of light, yet it was bright all the same.

Eternal ice.

Now, how the hands shifted away from the weapons. This was opportunity.

“A bounty from the Cold Lady. A hundred gold coins for every head collected.”

Eyes shifted to each other. Some hunters were licking their lips, and one raspy voice asked, “What’s the requirement?”

“Species called ‘dryad’. New one. Skin of bark, and hair of leaves. They bleed thick red – they call it sap.”

A blind girl snorted, “Original.”

“Payment upon proof. They’ll be on this continent. There are not many left.”

Some were slipping away already, vanishing into the shadows behind others or between cabinets. The man took his coin and left. He didn't bother to close the door on his way out.

“Rude.”

There was a lull, and then a mad scramble for the doors. Surprisingly, the blind girl snaked her way outside first, and slammed the door to angry shouts.

News in the Kennelways travelled fast. Within hours, the talk shifted to the bounty.

To those with skin of bark and leaves for hair.

----------------------------------------

At the gates of Lyndeira the following morning, two messengers passed by the capital, one entering, one leaving.

The first held a sealed plea from the Mayor of Terstein for reinforcements to address a potential Classless Dungeon.

He had departed from Terstein the morning before.

The second held a simple scroll, and the hooded figure was a bounty hunter. There were interesting sightings, and he was a man who lived for the interesting, and loved to play games.

He would arrive in Terstein the next morning.