Enlarge … did what it said on the tin. He stared around the healing house, at the door he'd have to stoop to walk through. Thomas lifted a hands, looking at his fingers. They looked normal. Everything else just … looked smaller.

He also looked down at his belt, which had split apart and fallen off. He'd thought ahead, and just put the belt on, rather than trying this out fully dressed; he was glad he did. It affected him; it did not, in fact, affect any of his clothing. Which would have been a serious problem for him if he'd tried this, as he had initially thought, out in the fields with the beetles.

So, he could … uh. The green guy. He could do that. Only he proportions remained the same; he wasn't suddenly bursting with muscles, he was just … bigger. Thomas walked to the door, trying to remember how tall it had been compared to him before, to get an estimate for his height now. He was … what, eight or nine feet tall? So something like, what, a fifty percent increase in his overall mass?

The title of the distinction, Inhuman Size 1, implied he might get another version later. Maybe more than one additional version. Could he eventually punch out the … uh. The big ape?

Shaking his head, Thomas focused on the ability again. At will, indeed; the world grew larger around him, the door stretching out from underneath his chin to over his head. That was a thoroughly odd sensation. He moved back to his pile of clothing, which was starting to smell, and, wrinkling his nose, dressed quickly.

He didn't go with Cenpre, this morning. He didn't particularly want to see her right now, and he had to remind himself mentally that he didn't have to justify that to himself. He was allowed to not want to see her, to not want to work with her. He went alone, instead, attracting some looks. They could look. He had some … experiments to perform. The red-haired woman went with another pair of farmers, instead, and he moved to a part of the fields far removed from them. Cenpre, for her part, did her own work keeping her own little group away from him.

He corralled a couple of beetles near each other, kicking and punching until they chased him, and leading them towards a spot that had already been harvested of melons; he didn't want to damage the landscape too much. Then he let one attack him, and, grasping it by its horn and carapace, threw it at the other.

They couldn't really be knocked 'prone,' but as he repeated the throw, they did seem to show a distinct tendency to land on their backs when either thrown or struck; much more than simple chance, or even a reasonable facsimile of physics, should have resulted in. A couple of farmers had stopped their own work to watch his antics, as he repeatedly tossed the beetles about, clacking into each other noisily.

Whatever their armor was, it didn't seem enough to punch through their damage resistance. The beetles were tough. He did have some luck, however, as he experimented stomping, kicking, and punching their underbellies when they were flipped over; they'd use their horns to shove themselves back onto their feet if he left them for too long, so he had to move quickly, but each blow did seem to stun them, and ichor started dripping from the pulverized tissue. The sensation of his bare knuckles impacting their – was it chitin? – their underbellies was kind of disturbing, but he was able to hurt them, and he soon was dragging a beetle towards the pit, the other already leaking green goo out of countless bursts in the innards, motionless. Another trip to drag the second, and he moved on.

He couldn't kill them very quickly, but the toss-and-pummel approach worked pretty well, and soon the farmers were starting the rest of their work. Thomas surveyed the bushes, looking for spiders, or anything else to fight. It had been … what … three days now since clearing the fields had given him anything? He wanted something more tangible and useful. He glanced in the direction that Anise and her small group were now harvesting. And remote. He considered for a moment, and headed back to the village, in search of Anise.

She was talking with three familiar-looking people in brown traveling clothes; a tall woman with hip-length brown hair, a short woman with gray hair, and a thin man with – oh! It was Anne's group. He slowed; their backs were to him, and he tried to move closer to overhear what they were saying without attracting Anise's attention. Norris was speaking, his baritone bringing out a bit of envy in Thomas; he had always thought his voice to be kind of nasally sounding.

“...well enough, but there wasn't much for us to do when we got there; they'd already been wiped out a fortnight ago.” Anise nodded, looking pleased, her voice positively lilting into song as she replied.

“A pity for you, I agree, but I think we'll sleep easier nonetheless. Haven't been able to get new tools in a year now. The merchants will venture the trip soon enough, or not soon enough, we've been putting off the harvest. Everyone will be glad to know they can finally stop trying to keep those accursed scarabs in check.”

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“Well, we're going to head down to Piketown and see if they have any work for us, and then maybe continue further south.” Anne's voice, sounding more tired than Thomas remembered. “Begging your pardon, mayor, but there's not going to be much of anything to do until the spring migrations.”

“No, no, I understand. Wouldn't want Arias in the fields anyways, we don't have the melons for it.” Okay, they were melons. This got a laugh from everyone except Arias herself, who crossed her arms, looking away. In Thomas' direction, as it transpired, and she straightened.

Well, they didn't seem to be talking about his prison break, so he strode forward; Arias, for her part, tapped Anne's shoulder, and pointed his way once she'd gotten the woman's attention. Anne turned, and her exhaustion lightened for a second into a smile.

“Hey, you made it.” She hesitated for a second, and Thomas bowed his head, interjecting.

“Good to see you Anne. Arias, Norris.” He hesitated himself; he had intended to help her remember his name, but suddenly found he couldn't find a graceful way to do so, so he continued in a different thread. “Thanks for sending me here.” A moment of inspiration. “And good evening, Anise.”

“Good evening, Thomas.” There it was. Anne looked relieved, so Thomas continued.

“Actually, I'm thinking of heading out myself. I'm not sure I've been too kind on the melons myself.” He'd crushed three throwing the beetles about. Scarabs? “I'd rather repay the kindness shown to me with coin. Do they have paying work in, uh, Piketown was it?” Mostly he just wanted to get away for a time.

Anne took this in, and then shared a glance at Norris, who just shrugged. Her attention returned to Thomas. “That would be alright with us, I think. Thomas. And there's some work, if you don't mind fishing.” Well. At least the name wasn't a reference to the medieval weapon. Some kind of spear, wasn't it?

Anise was looking at Thomas with a curious expression. She might have seen that he hadn't gone with Cenpre that morning, but either way, he figured she'd arrive at entirely the wrong conclusion about what had happened. The idea of anyone else knowing made him … uncomfortable, and ashamed, and ashamed to be ashamed about it. But she didn't say anything, and Thomas nodded.

“Alright. Anise, I'll send something back.” Thomas ducked his head towards her, and the – mayor, apparently – nodded to him.

“It's always appreciated. But in the morning. No objections, Anne, I doubt you've eaten a properly cooked meal since you left.” Anne did, indeed, look ready to object.

The trio was already gathered together when Thomas walked to Anise's house, and after a brief farewell to the mayor of Grimhaven, they were on their way, walking downstream. Norris, to Thomas' surprise, fell in beside him as they walked; Anne led their little expedition, and Arias was walking some distance aways, her eyes sweeping the landscape as they moved.

“So, what happened?” That enviable voice. Thomas glanced at Norris, and then looked at the ground, considering a response. What could he say? The silence must have gone on long enough to tip Norris off, because the thin man patted him on the shoulder. “It's alright. Sometimes things just don't work out, particularly in the smaller settlements; everyone already knows everyone else, it can be hard to find a place for yourself.”

“That's … well.” It sort of fit; the town was just too small to avoid Cenpre entirely. “Close enough.”

They fell into a companionable sort of silence; Arias moved surprisingly quickly, crossing their paths from one side to the other, making her way up to the top of hills. Watching for creatures, or people, or both? Anne, for her part, seemed content to just walk. He was relieved she hadn't started talking about their first meeting, and now for reasons other than embarrassment.

They halted around midday, and ate some oddly flavorless bread that Norris handed each of them. It had the consistency of old oatmeal, and tasted like somebody had condensed the essence of blandness into tangible form. Kind of like tofu, really. They drank from the stream, which somehow had a more interesting taste than the bread, and the refilled the water bladders. Thomas still didn't know, and didn't want to know, whether they were made from real animal bladders.

And they were off again, Arias once again making her slow circuit back and forth across the path the rest followed. Thomas found his legs aching by the time the sun had begun to set, and Anne called a halt.

“We'll rest here, this spot should be safe.” Thomas looked around; he was grateful to halt the endless trek, but … this spot looked pretty much exactly the same. Grassy hills cut through by the stream. If they hadn't been following the slowly winding water, he'd have thought that they had been going in circles.

They didn't set up a camp; Arias moved to the top of the nearest hill and sat down. Thomas watched her go, Norris moving to stand beside him, speaking quietly. “She'll take first watch. If she whistles, we need to be up and ready to fight. I'll take second watch, Anne third.” The man smiled, handing him another lump of bread. “You get some sleep. We've stuck to this routine for years.”

“I … alright, thank you.” Thomas sat down, realizing, as he watched Anne settle into the grass, that they were indeed just going to sleep on the ground. What did they do when it rained? He considered their clothing, and their hats; maybe they just put the hats over their heads and … got rained on. Thomas rubbed at his aching calves as he started stretching out.

There hadn't been much conversation, all the day. He wondered if it was because of his presence, or whether they just didn't talk that much. Had they been talking when they'd discovered him? He had been … distracted by circumstance, and wasn't certain now.

Thomas slowly lay back in the grass, which tickled at his neck and cheek, looking up at the stars overhead. They were simply gorgeous. This view, every night? Maybe he'd done himself a disservice sleeping indoors.