“What are you, a toddler?” The ginger mocked the Dogra towering over him.

“I’m trying my best! Even if my speaking is rough, toddlers have years to learn what I’ve picked up in a fraction of that time” Mordemicai wanted to shout but was left with the thought trapped in is head since he didn’t know how to translate it.

“Seriously Ather, what do you see in this guy?” The taunter turned to the girl who was busy cleaning the counter between them.

Mordemicai had spent a handful of weeks at the Burrow. Ever since he took on Ather’s apprenticeship, he’d thrown himself into working and learning with full force.

The first long while had proven quite the challenge. The morning after he’d been welcomed, he’d been faced with an immediate hurdle. His unspoken concerns over eating spoiling meat proved fruitful with an unrivaled stomach ache.

Mordemicai had miscalculated, just because Ather could eat it that didn’t mean he could.

People out here were used to eating the less than quality sustenance while he fell flat in that regard. But, avoiding proteins all out and going vegan wasn’t something he was willing to do.

Like running a car on vegetable oil, the wrong fuel in his body would drastically decrease his performance. If he purposefully avoided being in the best shape possible that would only decrease his chances in surviving the most dangerous landscapes to come.

He’d settled on weening himself into it, taking only a little and increasing the amount gradually till he built a stronger stomach.

Ather had been working him dry in the meantime, but he didn’t mind. His tasks were often tiring and tedious but he felt fulfilled with his accomplishments so far. He’d never felt such unfiltered euphoria as when a trap he built under Ather’s tutelage cornered a sassy hedge badger.

The Burrow Master hadn’t been bluffing when she’d told him that there was a lot of work to be done, a fair amount of it being heavy lifting. Every day he went to sleep with sore muscles and feeling sick from meat, but each day it was a little less-so.

Mordemicai was currently grinding away at a decent sized mortar and pestle. His current task was to break down some of the swaths of dried plants hanging from the ceiling. While his hands were busy, his mind was free so he’d been allowed to practice what he’d picked up so far from the Language of Savages.

His practice partner, however, never let up when it came to jeering at his shortcomings.

He only had a handful of days with Ather to himself before the first group came. A Raortol tribe, twenty-seven members strong with every last person donning the same animalistic ears and furry appendages. While they did share the same race as Mordemicai’s burrow-mate, the similarities ended there as Ather had no relation to them.

Albeit, it seemed there were those in their group with the hopes of changing that unrelated status.

Eli, the group leader’s son, was adamant on hovering Ather as much as possible.

From what Ather told Mordemicai, Burrows were a community space of give and take. If a clan wanted the assistance of a Burrow, they’d have to repay it in kind. Due to Eli’s constant buzzing, he was given a task that would allow him to stay nearby under the premise he help Mordemicai in practicing his lingual skills.

That’s how the two of them ended up sitting across from each other with pestles in hand while Ather tidied up nearby and the rest of his clan were out gathering the items assigned to them.

In Mordemicai’s opinion, he wasn’t a very good teacher.

They were going over the most barebones, formulaic conversation sentences but Eli always interrupted and teased relentlessly anytime Mordemicai so much as stuttered or pronounced a vowel weirdly.

He’d then try and use that break in the practice as a spring board to speak with the young Burrow Master.

“So not only are your hands slow, but you can’t even hold a simple chat. It seems you are not suited for this work Eli. Should I assign you somewhere else so that you may more productively use your time?” Ather gave a cold response to his attempts like always, this time with a warning underneath. Not only was Eli flopping on being useful in developing Mordemicai’s knowledge, he was also only half-hearted when it came to grinding away the brittle plants. Out of the two things she’d asked of him, he’d succeeded in neither so far.

“NO!” Eli blurted first before correcting himself. “No, Burrow Master Ather. You don’t need to worry, I’ve got it under control.” He refuted while using her respectable title.

While they chatted back and forth, Mordemicai narrowed his eyes in concentration trying to pick out the words he knew. Even if his growth was quick, his understanding of the Language of Savages was still rudimentary. Ather worked as a nice translator when someone else wanted to speak directly to him yet any other conversations left Mordemicai on his own to decipher what was happening.

In this instance, Mordemicai might not be able to grasp what they were saying fully, but flirting was universal.

He could read it from the tones of their voices and body language. Eli was always trying to get closer, using bright octaves while gesturing animatedly. There was no doubt in Mordemicai’s mind that the traveler had already dropped four pickup lines to no avail.

Ather was showing no noticeable reaction to his unashamed interest.

If Mordemicai had to guess, it wasn’t because she was unaware. In his opinion, Ather was smart.

Turns out he’d hit a lucky streak because Ather, the first person he’d met, was also one of the only people out here who knew his home language. Being multilingual was actually one of the many standards that a Burrow Master had to meet.

Mordemicai could imagine that this prerequisite alone kept most people from oversaturating the Wilds with Burrows. Then again, to his knowledge there wasn’t anyone who kept tabs on these sorts of things. Simply not knowing how everything worked proved that he still had a lot to learn.

“She probably has her own reasons…” Mordemicai noted before switching his focus to the guy across from him. Even if there was nothing wrong with Ather refusing his advances, he couldn’t help but feel bad for Eli. It undoubtedly stung to be shut down so relentlessly.

“No be down, Eli” Mordemicai tried to comfort him, tell him to not be sad and keep his head up with what few words he knew.

“Cram it retard. Your accent sounds like a fish with a mouthful of bees.”

Fuck it. Magically, Mordemicai doesn’t feel bad for him anymore.

He hopes Ather takes the hammer side of her axe and swings it straight between Eli’s legs.

Shuffling near the front of the Burrow began shortly after Mordemicai was trying send his violent will to Ather through nonexistent psychic powers. Some of the Raortol arrived, just getting back from their tasks with Eli’s father in tow.

Chief Wyllus, leader of the Raortol Tribe, was a man of few words but had a nasty glare.

Mordemicai acknowledged that perhaps his understanding of the elder was skewed, but he could only act on what he knew and if the guy refused to talk to him and made the habit of staring him down then the only way to describe him was thus.

“Burrow Master, where do you want these” the others approached Ather with spoils in hand.

“Ah! Over here, follow me.” She led them down one of the hallways leaving Mordemicai alone with Wyllus and Eli who had begun mumbling to each other once Ather was distracted.

Mordemicai doubted Eli was telling his father and leader how they became best friends with each other from their time together considering the crushing look that was leveled at the Dogra during their whispers.

They certainly held animosity towards him.

However, if Wyllus believed he could crumple Mordemicai with just mean looks, he had another thing coming.

A lesser man might have fallen victim to those eyes that could murder, but Mordemicai wasn’t one of them. He’d been receiving similar hostility as far back as he can remember so he had an immunity to it.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

What he wouldn’t be able to take was hostile actions. In society, it is few and far between to find people willing to act violently or kill. No matter what those who despised him felt, they wouldn’t get physical. There was no such mentality in the Wilds.

For all Mordemicai knew, Wyllus might actually kill him if given the chance.

Thankfully, Ather wasn’t a fool. Burrows had a no fighting rule and if they truly did want to be on her good side, attacking her acquaintance was off limits. She’d been carefully selecting how people were arranged so that no ‘happy accidents’ happened while the Dogra was out of her sight.

As for why they were so inexplicably sour, Mordemicai was still trying to figure out.

Was it just jealousy? Or, did they feel threatened? Their group came by often, and it was easy to see they were trying to butter-up to the Borrow Master with limited success.

He could imagine that they were at it for weeks on end but then Mordemicai popped up and had already pushed past the barrier they couldn’t even shift.

Something like that would make the losers bitter, but was that enough to justify hating him?

From his own perspective, while he and Ather were definitely on friendlier terms than the others, they weren’t all that close.

In fact, Mordemicai only recently became ninety percent sure that Ather wasn’t out to kill and eat him. He excused the remaining ten percent as healthy skepticism.

“Morjedecay” Ather poked her head around the corner into the room. She still didn’t get Mordemicai’s name right all that often. He’d have written it down for her to remember but there wasn’t a visual form for the Language of Savages.

“Check for tracks” she spoke with the words that only the two of them knew so that the others wouldn’t know where he was disappearing to.

“On it” he quickly took up the offer to go outside. With the possible threat to his existence looming over him, he hadn’t been given much freedom for his own safety. A chance at getting some time alone was a nice sounding prospect.

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

Mordemicai entered the brush through a pre-planned pathway. His task at hand was to search specified plots of land for signs of prints. Not just any prints though, he was looking for proof of the ‘Vuuska’ being nearby.

He wasn’t exactly sure what Vuuska signs would look like, but Ather had told him it was something you just knew when you saw it.

A clear concept of what a Vuuska technically was still evaded him, but from what he grasped, it was a blanket term. There were many being that applied when the term Vuuska was thrown out.

The conclusion Mordemicai came to from asking around was that a Vuuska, most simply put, was a creature that surpassed the capabilities of normal animals.

He knows that his description was vague, but all the information he could gather was vague as well.

Earlier on, he had helped Ather set up some special animal trails. Ather had used her knowledge and pointed out the most likely places for animals to tread. Afterwards, she used Mordemicai’s free labor to help clear those areas of foliage and loosen the dirt ground.

Suddenly, voila! Instant spots perfect for identifying tracks. With nothing obscuring their vision, the slack dirt would easily give way under the weight of any beast that stood on top of it leaving their footprints behind.

It was all in caution of the mysterious entity that was the Vuuska. While the only proof of its existence was found miles away in the form of the mauled deer that had brought Mordemicai and Ather together, it was better safe than sorry.

Having some crazy monster camping out near the Burrow which was considered the safe zone would be devastating. Visitors drawn closer with their guards let down from seeing the perfect resting spot would make easy prey for whatever fiend that lurked in the shadows.

Even though the situation was dire, Mordemicai still let himself enjoy the benefits of checking the designated areas while moving carefully in case the Vuuska happened to already be nearby.

He’d been clearing away the unnecessary peach deer hooves that had marked their way through the ground while fluffing up with earth’s bed once more when someone called out unexpectedly.

“HO THERE!”

“GAH!!” Mordemicai fumbled.

“God dammit! There’s a freaking monster somewhere out here, can you not sneak up and surprise me!?!” Mordemicai was left flustered from the very unmanly scream that he will forever deny was his.

Whipping around to look for the instigator, he didn’t see anyone.

Strange.

If it was one of the Raortol under Wyllus’ that had snuck out to end him, they wouldn’t have purposefully made Mordemicai aware of their presence. Yet, one of the reasons Mordemicai nearly jumped out of his skin was because he’d been paying close attention to his surroundings audibly and hadn’t heard any footsteps.

Even now he couldn’t see them, so what was it they were aiming for?

“Down here ya buffalo! Good gracious, you’re really built like a mountain, aren’t ya?”

Oh. There was a stout and scruffy man. Perhaps because Mordemicai had been expecting Raortol which were much taller, the small warrior had escaped his sight.

From a distance, the stranger held out a hand as if to say hello. Recalling that Ather had done the same when they’d first met, he remembered that the gesture actually held a different meaning.

Because there were many different groups with different ideals, there were bound to be conflicts or groups that openly attacked anyone else they came across. It could be considered similar to how in a court room someone was innocent till proven guilty; in the Wilds, someone is an enemy until proven peaceful.

If two tribes ran into each other without knowing the other’s intent, things could turn bloody from tensions even if neither wanted a fight in the first place.

Therefore, two hand signals were developed that everyone eventually learned. They were similar to each other but made all the difference. When spotting someone unfamiliar, the party involved would have their designated leader hold their hand up near their head level. Depending on which way the palm was faced had different meaning.

A hand with the palm facing inward toward the gesturer’s face meant that they just wanted to pass by.

A hand with the palm facing outward meant they wanted to approach and converse for one reason or another.

The Ather from when they first met and the man who was here now weren’t just waving to be friendly. They were saying they wanted to talk.

Mordemicai jolted from his thoughts and nervously gestured back in kind.

When the other party in question does not throw up a sign in response, it was best to assume they wanted to throw hands. If Mordemicai hadn’t waved back when he first met Ather, he’d have likely ended his journey on the business side of her axe.

The noisy man waddled his way over with a dauntless grin.

“Well, would you look at that baby face? You’re a lot younger than I thought!” The stranger laughed in a friendly manner while other small men and woman stepped out into sight. “Wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest Burrow is, would ya?”

Mordemicai’s head was steaming from trying to decipher anything this guy was saying. He didn’t seem mean spirited, but the guy pronounced things way different then how Ather did. Mordemicai was only able to catch on word from all the jargon but it conveyed enough to get him through this crisis.

The stranger had said ‘Burrow’. He had also ended his sentence like a question so it’d be a sound leap in logic that he was asking where the Burrow was.

“Burrow, yes. I know. That way.” Mordemicai wanted to kick himself after abandoning all grammar to focus on using words that held the meaning he was looking for.

“Poor lad, I’d have thought something is wrong with your head if not for your duds. What is a fella like you doing out here?” The man asked another question.

Mordemicai appreciated that it didn’t sound like the man was mocking him, he didn’t think he could deal with another Eli; but the man talked so fast and so much that Mordemicai didn’t stand a chance in the face of translation.

One of the woman approached the two and gave her companion a loud slap to the back of the skull.

“Stop rambling to the boy you dolt! He looks like a kicked puppy already” she scorned the man in Mordemicai’s defense.

The woman then stood straight with a puffed-out chest and cleared her throat.

“Can – You – Take – Us – To –The – Burrow?” she articulated every word clearly.

Mordemicai lit up. He could absolutely understand what she said, and he absolutely could take them there.

“Aww. Ain’t he cute?” the woman asked rhetorically to the bearded man still rubbing his sore head.

Mordemicai occasionally got the feeling that the other inhabitants of the Wilds treated him like a child. He’d pinned it down as his envy running rampant because of how much more skilled everyone else was while he was just leaning and tried to shut the negative sensation out.

Yet, Mordemicai wasn’t exactly wrong. However, it was his open expressions and easily earned excitement rather than his lack of experience that brought forth such feelings from the locals. He was like an overgrown kid to them.

He was helpless at defending himself but full of energy with a can-do attitude. If not a pleasant child, then what was he?

While there were those who looked down on him for those reasons like the Raortol tribe, there were those endeared to it as well like Ather. These new additions fell into the latter category.

He was a breath of fresh air and such sentiments still carried despite the teen being five times their size.

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

It was evening and Mordemicai was seeing for the first time why the Burrow was so big. When the dining room was empty, the space felt unnecessary. Now that there were two separate groups, the noise was deafening and most of the long tables were entirely occupied.

He’d just finished dishing out dinner portions with Ather and they were sitting down to eat their own.

The two factions had split themselves to their own halves of the room and given the choice to sit with one or the other, it was obvious which table Mordemicai would rather be at.

He happily took the spot offered to him by the loud man who had approached him first from their group. Ather kindly came and sat next to him wordlessly. She seemed in a good enough mood to help with Mordemicai’s social life tonight.

“A Vuuska you say?” the bearded man beamed. They’d been chatting for a while and had come back to the subject as to what Mordemicai had been doing when they ran into each other.

Instead of fearful like how one would expect, the man was downright giddy.

While the Raortol at their backs were a traveling tribe, the round yet muscly figures before them were warriors who lived the life of battle.

Mordemicai justified that for those who found great honor in fighting the strong, a creature that surpassed normal animals would make for a joyous hunt.

Well, Mordemicai was curious too. He really wanted to know what it looked like and what made it so special, but he also knew he wasn’t ready yet to face the same beast that could shred its opponents into mushy messes.

“We’d gladly take that on for you dolly! Isn’t that right lads!?!”

Resounding cheers rattled the tables and Mordemicai had to catch one of the lit candles to keep it from falling over.

“Just show us the way to where you knew it was last!” Despite their excitement, they knew they couldn’t just run into the woods and find it without any prior knowledge.

“Hmmm…” Ather put a hand to her chin, obviously thinking something over while Mordemicai put the candle in his hand back onto the now steady table so he could finish eating.

He wondered if they’d maintain its body enough when they brought it back to the Burrow so he could see it. Mordemicai wouldn’t be able to learn much if it was already broken into piles of meat and pelt.

“Alright. I’ve decided.” Ather had finished her long moment of contemplation.

“Mordemicai” she said his name for the first time correctly without being prompted to and quickly caught his attention.

“You’re going out hunting with them.”

“……”

“……..”

“……………..What?”