It was the longest journey they ever had, but it was worth it in the end.

Narati had continuously walked a long distance several times before, both before and after being saved by Jacques. All the experiences he had before Jacques were hard to forget for all the wrong reasons. After Jacques and Raine, the trip to them a day on average. There were no horses or any mounts they could rent, mostly because there not a long of docile animals in the desert. Since they did not want to waste money buying a car (not to mention no one could drive), they resorted to walking.

The longest walk Narati experienced was three days when they were travelling to and from the Seaside Region. The walk to Emerald Valley, however, took them a week. This, however, was more a leisurely walk than out of haste, for they made several stops in settlements along the way while also dealing with some bandits that they could raid to add to their money. They bought a cart from selling their loots, which made the journey easier.

It was the furthest Narati had ever been, and the furthest from his old home. He had no home now, but he always knew where it was. He had visited it three months ago with his new friends to find it deserted. That’s also where Raine and Karkas found out that Narati originated from a Fa’ar village, and that his parents were gatherers. Narati remembered how the village was raided and the surviving Fa’ars were forced into slavery. No one came to help them, and it showed. The area where Narati’s former village was treated Fa’ars poorly and considered those who tolerated Fa’ars even worse.

The hatred against the rat people unnerved even Karkas as these people did not fear him despite his foreign appearance. He started to realize how his path of vengeance could easily turned into harassment as he saw how these people treated Narati poorly. They backed off not because of Raine or Karkas, but because Narati threatened them with ‘the wrath of Vasra’ by powering on his terror-inducing weapon and effortlessly swinging it around, cutting the support beam of his old home and letting it collapse. He even challenged them to fight him. No one did but a child, only for Narati to scare him.

“You want to fight me, cabo?” taunted Narati. “Wanna know how this saw cut through your leg? Huh? How about if I give you a little taste?”

His raspy voice unnerved the child and the mob. The three walked out of the village unharmed, though Narati was sure he might’ve traumatized the kid. Not that he cared. They wanted to fight him. It was his right to fight back.

This experience bolstered Narati’s confidence and helped him be better, and to gain his passion for adventure. In just six months, Narati Vasra had become more than just a freed slave. He earned the respect of both Raine and Karkas and managed to keep his promise to Jacques.

This time, though, he was unsure if it would work against him if he decided to act like that. From Raine alone, Narati could tell that his homeland was not full of harassers yet would only tolerate Fa’ars to a degree. If they deemed him a threat, it would be problematic. This was part of the reason why he decided to keep his weapon in wraps and in the carriage as they left the desert and went into the grasslands. It was an intimidating weapon that proved to be useful in ending a confrontation before a fight broke. Still, there was no guarantee that it could intimidate everyone, as Raine pointed out.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to prove that it’s not just the noise that makes it dangerous,” said Raine to convince Narati to conceal the weapon.

Thankfully, the Emerald Valley, befitting its name, was more peaceful compared to the desert wasteland. The ruins of pre-war civilization were still around and visible but a thousand years of being exposed to the elements had already taken their toll on them. The buildings were almost stripped bare, with what remained covered in vegetation. Ancient machines of iron and steel dotted the landscape much like the desert wasteland, only they were unrecognizable. The humid air helped trees and vegetation grow, reclaiming the land and the ancient scraps of metal that were nothing more than rust by this point. It was now the home of critters, as Narati soon noticed when he approached one that resembled a car.

The abundance of life in the Emerald Valley proved to be in sharp contrast with the mostly dead desert. It overwhelmed Narati momentarily. He had never seen a region that was so green and so earthy. The sudden change affected his senses. Gone was the sand, replaced by the cool grass. Narati couldn’t contain himself; he took off his paw wrap and ran on the grass with joy.

“He acts like he never touched grass before,” said Karkas with a chuckle.

“The grass here can do that to you, especially at this time of the year,” said Raine. “We can sit here and enjoy the scenery if you want to, Kar.”

“I prefer getting into an inn first, then enjoy the scenery,” said the Croc. “Although that stream over there looks enticing.”

“Heh. Once a river boy, always a river boy, eh, bud?”

“Boy? I’m too old to be 15.”

“It’s a saying, Kar.”

There was no saying like that in among the Crocodilians, which was the reason for his confusion. It had been a while since he saw an unpolluted river surrounded by living things or filled with living things. He wanted to savor the fish in a region that looked natural and reminded him of his home, even if the trees and everything else were foreign to him.

Narati, meanwhile, returned to the two after noticing them moving on without him. On the way, he met some human children playing. The Fa’ar wanted to avoid them so he wouldn’t cause an awkward, possibly tense, situation. The children looked at him and waved their hands, prompting Narati to wave back.

He decided not to linger and simply walk away, knowing that their parents might not appreciate a Fa’ar mingling with their children. Such a shame, though. They seemed nice.

The Emerald Valley did not only boast a living, post-war land, but also a better treatment towards strangers who were clearly foreigners. When they reached a village, they were greeted by one of the village guards, an older Loup who had clearly seen a lot of action judging by the scars he wore on his body. His chocolate brown fur, mixed with cream-colored fur had patches of gray on it. Most of those furs were hidden underneath a dark gray armor that seemed to be well-maintained, which was different from the shambling armors that Narati came across in the desert wasteland.

“Hi, we’re just visiting,” said Raine. “They’re with me.”

“I won’t mind if they don’t start a fight.” The Loup then noticed something on Raine’s lapel. “And your companions are from your expedition?”

“You can say that again. You don’t mind, do you? They’re…well, they’re far from home.”

“The Fa’ar’s fine for me. The Croc, though…he might need getting used to. And tell him to wear something warm or he’ll freeze to death come winter.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“I told him that already.” Raine nudged Karkas’s side, who could only growl in response. “There won’t be any more problem, sir?”

“Nope. Get some rest at the inn. Business is slow, so he can give you a room. Oh, and tell the Fa’ar he’s welcome here if he behaves.”

“I will,” said Narati, taken aback by the fact that the Loup was not as concerned with a Fa’ar and more concerned with a Croc.

As they walked to the inn, Narati approached Raine and asked, “He doesn’t seem to mind a Fa’ar. Is it you?”

“Nope,” said Raine. “The Valley is very tolerable when it comes to Dark Races. We do avoid calling anyone a ‘Dark Race’, or ‘Nuremnian’. Well, unless you go to some places where they do treat Fa’ars as you expected. Can’t change that.”

“Then why am I the only Fa’ar in the village? This place is fertile and full of life. I’m sure if they heard about it, they’ll move here without hesitation.”

“Good thing you’re one of a handful who knew someone from the Valley,” replied Raine. “And also, because you’re well-behaved.”

“Oh. That’s a good reason. I guess.”

“Relax, kid. The more you think about it, the more it feeds into your fears. I’m sure you haven’t had a decent bath for a while. We all need it.”

Turned out the bounties they claimed were plenty for Emerald Valley’s standards, as Raine managed to check them into a room that could accommodate the three of them and a personal bathroom. The village’s inn had travelers stopping by to rest after a long, arduous journey through the desert. There were both smaller rooms in a one-floor building and bungalows for extra privacy. Raine rented the bungalow.

The bungalow itself was a rectangular, wooden house comfortable enough to live in, with a small kitchen and a living room. The bedrooms were separated with curtains and positioned beside each other, with one having a double bed and another with a bunk bed. Owing to his love of climbing, Narati chose the top bunk, which was not an issue for Raine. Karkas took the double bed.

The important part of the bungalow, however, was the bathroom. A wooden, cylindrical tub, enough to fit two people, sat on one side of the bathroom. A separate room with a door, probably the restroom, was just on the left of the bathroom’s door, while one the right was the sink. Everything felt so rustic, especially with wooden paneling, which gave both Karkas and Narati their first taste of how living in the Valley felt like.

“Huh,” said Raine after he inspected the bungalow. “Haven’t seen purpose-built room for a while. The wasteland lowers the bar quite a lot.”

“Nothing’s lower than the Seaside,” commented Karkas.

“You have a point there,” noted Raine. “So. How about if we get some bath before dinner? Better clean the sands off your fur or scales or…skin.”

“I can go with one for now,” said Narati. “Beats getting sick asking for a magical scrub.”

“So, that’s how you got all those bloods cleaned up!” pointed Karkas. “I kept wondering how someone covered with fur clean all that blood!”

“He insisted,” said Karkas. “He heard about how travelling mages clean themselves. He wanted to try, despite the risks to a Fa’ar.”

“We don’t actually get clean water than often in the middle of the desert,” retorted Narati. “In fact, I doubt no one’s going to share precious water with a worm-tail, especially one who's obviously a slave."

Both Karkas and Raine had never heard the word before. They silently acknowledged that it was a racial insult while Narati turned on the faucet to fill the bathtub. When it was filled some time after, the Fa’ar took off his clothing and took a relaxing, hot bath.

Then they were surprised when Narati said, “There are space for all of us. Might as well join in, taneme.”

“Join in?” asked Raine in disbelief.

“Hmm…why not?” said Karkas as he started to take off his braces. “That tub’s big enough.”

“Wait, you too, Kar?!”

This gave Karkas a chance to tease the human-Felinar. With a smug grin on his Crocodilian face, he said, “I bet you’re embarrassed by your skinny ass. Afraid I might give you some dirty thoughts?”

“N-no! You know what, I won’t hold you back. I’ll go have a drink instead. Just don’t try anything with Nara!”

“I’m not a degenerate.”

Raine let out a scoff as he walked to the living room, then to the front door. By this time, Karkas was ready for a bath. He soon joined Narati in the bath, who wondered where Raine went.

“He prefers more privacy than us,” said Karkas. “You’re okay with me?”

“I don’t mind,” said Narati. “Although…”

“Although what?”

“N-never mind.”

They both got themselves comfortable with the warm waters and the soap bar provided by the inn. Karkas appreciated the warmth from the water despite of preferring something cooler like the river near the temple he grew up in. Bathing in the river and basking under the sun were his idea of relaxation, so he’d like it if he took a bath in the river nearby. But with the coldness in the air, he preferred the warm water.

Narati, however, was not comfortable simply bathing in silent. Since regaining his voice, Narati had not had a chance to talk with Karkas to know him better, owing to their first meeting. It did not go to a good start, and since then, despite of their friendship, the Fa’ar was still apprehensive around Karkas. Karkas, owing to his own personality, either did not care or cared enough not to talk about it.

Maybe they should talk about it. That way, Narati might learn a bit more about Asran. He just needed to find the right words if they did not want the bath to become awkward.

“So…,” started Narati. “How’s the water?”

“I like it,” replied Karkas. “It’s good to know that you’re okay for us to share the tub.”

“Fa’ars take bath together, though I’m…not used to taking a bath alone. If I did…I preferred to do it with someone I trust instead of a total stranger. Maker, I wish I could just forget.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s…not. I want to move on. If I don’t, I’ll be scared of doing anything without…without reliving the pain.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Karkas was aware of Narati’s traumatic life. He never thought it would also include baths.

“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t complain too much.”

“You have all the rights to. You’re a free rat now. In fact, I’m sure no one’s going to mess with you after that stunt you pulled. ‘Wrath of Vasra’, eh? I never thought I’d hear something so threatening from a Fa’ar. Most of the time, I’d laugh. That terrible weapon of yours convinced me otherwise.”

“I’d only say it’s terrible if it can’t cut anything.”

“Terrible doesn’t always mean bad. But when you’re an asshole, however, now that word means just that.”

“Oh.”

“That also convinced me that you’re nothing like Asran. Even from the start, I never trusted that rat. In fact, I never trusted any rats before and after him. Meeting you, however, changed that.”

“That’s…great. Wow. It felt…great to know someone trusts you and not threatening to cut your tongue for speaking up.”

“What?” asked Karkas, surprised by how Narati casually described such a dark fact.

“That’s what the gags are for. Cutting tongues usually means lots of bleeding. And besides they—”

“Okay, stop. I get it. You had a fucked up life. You don't need to talk about it so casually.”

Narati drooped his head. “I killed the mood again, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t talked about violence with my kins before. I’m…amazed that you’re still fine after enduring all that.”

“I’m…not, to be honest with you. It will take a lot more than seven months to take back my life. Knowing that I didn’t completely lose my voice is a start.”

The treatment from Sil did fix Narati’s voice to a degree, though not entirely. The damage that caused him to lose his voice was permanent enough to cause him to have a gravelly voice, though not as severe as it was when he first regained his voice. It also revealed that he had a certain accent, something that Karkas did not find on any other Fa’ars he previously met. His penchant for adding his people’s words were a little off-putting, albeit an endearing quality only he possessed, which sat somewhere between the quiet, growling voice of Karkas and the friendly-to-a-fault Raine.

“At least you don’t say ‘buddy’ more time than you should,” commented Karkas. “He really is too friendly, isn’t he?”

“Who? Raine? Not necessarily,” said Karkas. “Though you’re right. I don’t know if he says ‘buddy’, or ‘badeh’. Maybe it’s just me. This Valley’s almost too friendly.”

“Might as well get used to it.”

“Is it as friendly by the rivers?”

“You don’t greet people by calling them ‘buddy’ if that’s what you mean by friendly. At least you don’t greet people by staring at them, thinking you got a drop on them. A bit of growl can mean a lot of things, be it friendly, or a challenge. You just have to identify the right pitch."

“Heh. You got that right…buddy.”

“Oh, not you, too.”

Narati chuckled, followed by Karkas growling, not in irritation, but in amusement. It may be a while before Narati could be more open and accepted that he was no longer living in a nightmare. Cracking a joke was a good start, as was inviting a friend to a bath.

Too bad Raine’s not as open as his beast people friends. Karkas and Narati wondered why it took him so long. Maybe he was having a good drink. They couldn’t care less.

Better take the time to relax and think about where to go next.