Upon seeing the uneasy look on Autumn’s face, the demonic innkeeper extended an offer.

“Tell you what, old man Orzon has been moaning to me about making a delivery for a while now. I’ll run a tab for you and when we get to the city, we can settle up there. How’s that?”

Autumn blinked in disbelief.

“You’d do that? Why? What if I ran away? Not that I would, of course.”

Nethlia smirked.

“No offense, but I’ve dealt with debt-dodges larger than you.”

Autumn ducked her head in embarrassment as the demoness chuckled.

“Just sit where you like. I’ll get some breakfast for us.”

In but a few moments, Autumn was nestled upon a cushion once again. Nethlia placed a plate of food before her as she sat down with a plate twice as full for herself.

“Like I said before, I don’t know what humans eat, so if any of this is bad for you, just let me know. Anyway, I’ve made some dusk-wheat sticky buns stuffed with tender Longhorn Agoroth meat and Cramoisifruit.”

Each of the fragrant buns was the size of a fist and packed with filling. Autumn was put off by the gray coloration, but she had eaten the bread the night before and it had been no worse than Earth’s versions. As Autumn hesitantly bit into the sticky bun, it engulfed her taste buds with the wonderful flavor of spiced meats coated in a tangy fruit sauce. In a second, her plate was devoid of buns and her stomach filled to bursting.

Once her hungry delirium broke, she noticed Nethlia was giving her a happy and indulged smile.

“Sorry.”

Nethlia laughed enthusiastically.

“Don’t be. Any cook would take that as a compliment.”

Autumn ducked her head a moment in reply before speaking again.

“Uh, to answer your question before, humans are omnivorous. As in, we can eat both meat and vegetables.”

“I know the word. We Inferni are predominantly carnivores, but we can stomach some grains and plants, just in case you didn’t know.”

Nethlia gave the wandering witch a curious look.

“If you don’t mind me saying so you have a good grasp of Infernal, I can’t even hear an accent.”

Autumn jumped in her seat. She had forgotten in all her exhaustion about the fact she could perfectly understand any language. She had been speaking in what should have been an unknown language instinctively.

“It’s, umm, just a magic spell I learned.”

Autumn flushed beneath her hat.

“Handy.”

Autumn stared down at her bare toes. Now fully sated, it reminded her of her most pressing concern, but even more embarrassed because of it. Already the demoness beside her had extended her hand in charity. Even with the promise to pay her back later, it would be even more mortifying to ask for help.

But what other choice did she have?

“Um…excuse me, Net.” Autumn timidly ventured as the demoness finished eating.

“You wouldn’t have any spare soap lying about? My boots are a mess, as you can tell.”

She gestured at her unclad feet.

Nethlia gave a soft smile that revealed sharp teeth.

“Sure, just let me grab my stuff, too. There is a creek nearby, and it’d be a waste to go alone.”

The friendly innkeeper had anticipated Autumn’s request. Not surprising given the state Autumn had been in when she arrived at this little community. Under one arm, she grabbed a wicker basket laden with a washboard and her dirty clothes.

The pair stopped at Autumn’s room first to gather up her pile of disheveled clothes and empty the washbasin. Nethlia raised a questioning eyebrow at the bloody bandages, but didn’t comment further. She did, however, insist on carrying Autumn’s burden with her own; something she was glad for as her body still ached something fierce.

They spent the trek out to the creek in quiet contemplation. Autumn gazed curiously at the pastures and its livestock now that it was light enough to see properly.

They seemed even larger as they grazed languidly.

A small laugh startled Autumn. She glared slightly at the source.

“Sorry,” Nethlia apologized to the blushing witch, “those gals are the gentlest creatures, so it was kinda funny to see someone stare at them so.”

Autumn turned back to the giant horned beasts in disbelief.

Cresting the next hill over the creek came into view. It carved a somnolent path through the hills, forming a valley of rocky banks and billowing trees that shaded its waters. Dipping her toes in the cool waters, Autumn sighed in relief. It was there, under the cool shade, they set about soaking their dirty things. Autumn would readily admit she was rather pathetic at it.

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She was a modern girl unused to the older ways.

Under Nethlia’s example and guidance, she used the washboard and soap made of animal fat and ash to free the dirt and blood, sending it swirling away in the slow currents of the creek.

Downstream eels gathered, following the taint of blood in the water. They knotted together, writhing over one another like a great tangled beard.

A drop of blood leaked from Autumn’s nose into the waters below.

“So what brings you around these parts?”

Nethlia’s voice broke Autumn from her trance. Starting slightly at the demoness’ voice, Autumn chewed upon her lip as she contemplated how much to reveal; she had no idea how this world viewed someone from another world. Already she was in some trouble in being both a human and a witch in a region that didn’t seem to see much of them.

“I’m lost. One moment I was at home, then ‘poof’ I’m in that spooky pine forest to the south. I don’t know what happened. Maybe a spell went wrong or something.”

“Pine forest?”

Nethlia arched an eyebrow upwards quizzically. Autumn turned to stare at the demoness beside her.

“Yeah, the one with enormous pine trees. The one on the other side of the yawning canyon.”

Surely a local would know about a forest housing gigantic trees that were teeming with fae. not to mention that abyssal canyon in front of it.

Kinda hard to miss.

“Uh, there isn’t any forest to the south, nor any canyon. It’s just hills and fields to the sea. I’d know if there was. I grew up here, after all. That kinda thing would be far too dangerous for the livestock.”

Nethlia spoke slowly, in concern.

Autumn gazed back with incomprehension in her eyes, her washing forgotten for a moment. Snapping out of her trance, she returned to cleaning as she was eager to see if the forest was still there. After all, it was the way she had come, and she hoped there was a way back hidden within.

With the worst of the stains removed, Autumn bundled them back into the basket and set off for the largest hill around.

Upon the apex, the witch stood and scanned the southern horizon. As far as the eye could see was just rolling hills of wheat and livestock till it ended in a twinkling jewel of green in the distance.

“Emerald Bay; so called because of the weird coloration of the waters. These are the pasturelands of the Duskpoint Barony, the northern tip of the Echea Empire. Farmers have cleared all the forests long ago aside from those on the northern coastline, but I don’t think any of those are pines.” Nethlia said.

Autumn gazed out over the land. A tear rolled down Autumn’s cheek unbidden as she cast her forlorn gaze to the pure blue sky above. Woods weren’t supposed to disappear. The fae had the last laugh. They had denied her an easy way home if one had existed, anyway. So she was stuck here, at least for a while.

Nethlia politely ignored her tears as she dried them on her sleeve.

Autumn’s mind spun with conjectures and chaotic thoughts; the fae forest was gone, or perhaps it never existed here, or maybe just not yet?

It was all just so confusing.

What she knew was that she was at least two dimensions away from home, maybe three. But did that even matter? At the very least, her socks were clean and her boots washed. After all, things could be worse.

She decided to find something to do to take her mind off her predicament.

Something to occupy her hands.

Speaking of hands, Autumn cast her eyes down upon the savaged fingers of her right. With two fingers missing, it was hard to clutch anything. Frequently she was trying to use that which wasn’t there. No balm would fix that, but maybe she could fashion something that could; some sort of prosthetic that could grant her greater functionality.

Grazing nearby were the cattle, their longhorns glinting white under the sun. In the past, she had once tried her hand at whittling and she had completed her mandatory high school shop class.

Maybe the villagers had some spare parts lying around?

They look sturdy enough and she only needed two fingers worth and maybe some leather.

Coughing lightly to gain her companion’s attention, Autumn nervously broached the topic.

“Uhh, Net, do you know anyone who might have some spare horns and leather they might part with?”

“Horns? From the Longhorn Agoroth? Hmm, let me think.”

Nethlia hummed as her glowing eyes squinted in thought. A calloused hand stroked a solid chin beneath pinched lips.

“We regularly sell everything to Duskfields but old man Ozron, I told you about him earlier, might have some scraps left over. Oh, he’s the local blacksmith. Old as a pair of boots, he’s been here since I was just knee high.” Nethlia rattled off.

“Why? What were you thinking of? They won’t sell very well in trade, the merchants only take in bulk.”

Autumn held up her right hand, the missing fingers on a grim display.

“Fixing this was it, really. Make some prosthetic fingers or something. I’ll probably need some leather, wire, nails, and screws, that sort of thing.”

Autumn mumbled as she planned things out in her head.

“That’ll be Orzon alright. I’ll introduce you just so he doesn’t grump too much; people around here are distrustful of strangers and they might get frightened if they see you. Not that you’re all that frightening, just a bit spooky…um, I need to stop talking.” Nethlia rambled.

Not that the witch was even listening as she had lost herself in her mind.

Nethlia guided Autumn to the old home directly across from her inn. Like the rest of the village was rather weather-worn, with an old patched roof that looked twice-broken and a door that hung awkwardly in the frame. However, they didn’t enter the building, instead detouring around the side to a small workshop around the back.

There stood a blacksmithy stained in soot and smoke. Crates of discarded pieces and off-cuts littered the yard behind the home. A dull ring of a hammer striking metal sounded off in a methodical rhythm.

A song of creation.

From within the blazing forge, an old man worked obscured by smoke and heat.

Reaching out, Nethlia pounded heavily upon a pillar beside her, causing it to creak and shake, sending a down-pouring of soot upon the elderly man inside.

“OZRON!” Nethlia bellowed.

“Keep ye horns on yah big oaf, you’ll bring me house down!” Orzon the blacksmith, bellowed back as he paused in his hammering.

Emerging from the smoke and falling soot was an ancient demon. Back hunched with unfathomable age and a face lined more than the back of a tree. One pale horn had broken halfway, giving the smith a lopsided appearance. While visually incredibly old, he still possessed a wiry, robust frame beneath soot-coat clothes and a thick red leather apron. One thick hand clutched onto a heavy iron hammer while the other held a set of tongs that was clamped around a piece of metal that blazed with heat. Even on the other side of the yard, she could still feel the heat radiating.

With a grunt, Orzon plunged the red-hot metal into a barrel of water. The quenching metal sent a billowing cloud of steam spraying into the air and the sizzling sound of rapidly cooling metal.

With squinted eyes a burning red, he gazed at Autumn and her hat suspiciously before rounding on Nethlia.

“Why have you darkened my door? Didn’t your mother warn you about cavorting with witches?”

The blacksmith demon’s voice was like the slow rumble of grinding rocks.

Autumn’s brow furrowed in annoyance. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

Seeing her look, Orzon grunted.

“Oh, don’t get your hat in a bunch.”