“Well, if you’re not interested in the sculpture ability, none of your choices seem that pressing," Ken suggested and poked at the fire with a stick. "It may be best to wait until we reach what passes for civilization here, to see what we can find for materials. Without ink, paper, or specialized tools there is little point. If ink or a tattoo machine are prohibitively expensive, you may be forced to take them."
Stace nodded and tried to summon a replica of an eighteenth-century inkwell she'd seen on a pawn show with her ability, then smiled when the mana she willed into the spell form she envisioned produced a perfect, albeit light green, copy. Still no ink. So, I can summon any sort of brush, quill, dip pen, nib, or ink-holding container I can think of so far.
The pair sat around the rekindled fire with weapons near to hand as they spoke and waited to see if the people they’d seen would appear. Stace had asked if it was wise to start the fire, but Ken had brushed it off, saying, "They have a fire of their own. It will be a while before the smell becomes noticeable for them again after they leave it. Besides if they're looking, they'll find us. We haven't gone far."
“I'm sure. What about Empower Rune?” Stace asked though she wasn’t sold on the ability.
Empower Tattoo called to her; it was her dream to be a tattoo artist, and the idea of magical tattoos sent shivers of delight through her. But she feared she needed both the ink, as Ken said and the ability to create a tattoo machine as well. At the same time, she had to admit to herself the thought of learning to tattoo by trial and error intimidated her. What if tattoos aren't a thing here? Or the ability to make a machine? All this fur is going to make any I give myself pointless.
"The lack of information on what these choices mean or do is infuriating. What runes? Are they a generally known set, or do you make your own?" Ken wondered, then gestured for her to wait. He stood and paced for a minute while pulling at his beard.
He stopped, and Stace saw his vision go far away again as he read his screens. She stood and began to prowl herself while she gave him time to consider. His energy was infectious.
"I choose Calm Mammal," Ken said after a minute of thought. Then he went still as he read again. "Oh, wow."
"What's it do?" Stace prompted.
"Well… I'll read it to you."
Calm Mammal: Rank 6
Spread a calming aura in a radius of Rank meters around you that settles nervous or fearful mammals for Rank x Will (mod) minutes [current 12 minutes]. Also has a Rank x Will (mod)% chance of calming hostile mammals in the same radius and preventing them from aggressive action. [Current 12%]. Can be used Rank x Will (mod) times a day. [Current 12 times]
Increases the chance mammals will willingly accept a bond from you by Rank x Charisma (mod) % when active. [Current 12%]
This ability works twice as well on personally bound mammals. This includes mammals you've bound to others.
This ability works equally well on non-mammal-bound animals.
"Okay? It does pretty much exactly what it said," Stace observed.
"Yeah, but technically people are mammals too. You do have nipples under all that fur, I assume? " Ken said with a finger shake and a smile, then asked, "How do I use Calm Mammal?"
Stace scowled. "You can't be…" she started, then cut off when Ken fell to his knees with a grimace and gripped his head in his hands. No sound left his lips until, with a grunt, he stood and focused back on Stace.
"I fear that's my limit for the day, if not longer. I'll be leaving my last choice until later."
"That bad?" Stace asked. "At least you didn't pass out."
"Pain and I are old friends. It takes quite a lot to knock me out these days," Ken rubbed at his neck with one large rough hand and gave her a strained smile.
"As long as you think you're fine. I don't want to be left alone out here," Stace murmured, gesturing at the surrounding titans of wood and leaf.
"I'm fine," Ken said firmly, giving her a half-smile. "Now, shall I give this a shot?"
Stace nodded and took a step back while Ken stuck the tip of his tongue out in concentration.
Ken “tsked” twice, much like you would call a dog or cat.
A few seconds later, Stace felt it. The earthy and floral scent of the forest around her became more pronounced and she felt herself smiling faintly. Then the tension that had built in her shoulders over the last day started to ease a little.
"Oh," Stace said and arched her back in a languid stretch that produced a bevy of satisfying pops along her spine.
Seeing Ken rub at his temples helped her focus back on the present. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Everything has its costs. Even magic, it seems. Which is only fair," he said with a short rueful laugh. "So? How does it feel?” Ken prompted. “By your reaction, I'm assuming it worked."
"Nice? Even aware of it as I am, I can't help but feel more chill. It's making the smells of the forest more pronounced," Stace admitted.
"Which scents?" Ken asked curiously.
"The plants, the leather of our belts, and the sweet smell of the berries," Stace replied.
"Hmm, so it works by increasing the intensity of pleasant fragrances."
"I also feel less tense in general."
“But the scents are paramount?” Ken asked, receiving a nod. "I'll have to toy with it further later when this headache subsides, thanks."
"Now, describe what you saw in that clearing. Every detail could be important," Ken said.
----------------------------------------
“So, they all had crossbows? Can you describe them?" Ken asked.
"All but the unarmored man in the collar had at least one. The elf and the biggest woman both had two," Stace clarified. "They looked a lot like the ones in Canadian Tire. With the fancy overlapping strings and whatnot. Only, you know? Made from wood."
Ken pulled at the neck of his chain shirt and took a steadying breath, then closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "None of the dead were killed with crossbow bolts as far as I can recall. Only the long arrows we found with the archers outside the clearing. So, I want to assume this group of women had nothing to do with the violence in the clearing. Though they may have been sent to find out what happened."
Stace confiscated the poker and stabbed at the growing bed of coals while they fell into a brief silence.
"We should cook up the rest of the lion meat while we can, then pack up and see if our resident cannibals have left us anything," Ken suggested with a suspiciously straight face and got up.
"Really? Now? I think I've had enough of the scent of cooking meat for one day," Stace protested with a grimace.
"We have the time now. We may not in the near future," Ken argued.
"Fine," Stace huffed and rose to help him set up the grill again.
He kept probing for details as they worked.
When they had cooked all the meat they'd collected, he started packing their gear in bags and storing it in his vault and the packs they’d appropriated.
Stace was handing Ken the now-cooled makeshift grill when she heard a sharp snapping behind her.
Both Stace and Ken froze for a heartbeat before slowly turning to look.
A familiar armored figure strode from behind a nearby tree with her empty hands out before her.
Stace noted the vicious-looking hammer hanging from one hip and the loaded crossbow on the other first, but it was the floating disc of blood-red crystal, connected to the woman with pulsing veins, that made her take a step backward with a shiver.
Shit! I should've memorized another tree.
----------------------------------------
“Well met, Grandmaster Dwarf,” Amber called out towards the pair in the small clearing, stepping into the open with her hands spread and her undersized blood shield covering her vitals.
The Grandmaster Farmer and the Master Breeder and Rancher titles had nearly made her abandon this approach and leave them alone. Only the desire for some answers and assurances pushed her forward to confront the powerful dwarf.
The massive but squat figure turned and took her in with a canted head. Neither he nor his companion had even flinched at her approach from where they sat near a small fire. The cat likely warned him, she reasoned. His companion, clearly wary, stood and took a few steps to the side, putting space between the pair.
The cat-kin kept its spear resting on its shoulder though, so Amber counted that as a good sign.
Amber kept her hands visible while she carefully inspected them and spoke.
“I mean you and yours no harm,” she assured in clear Brastian. She raised her arms further in a placating gesture, then took a step back in an attempt to keep them both in sight.
The cat must've been the one in the tree who used an ability to disappear. Dwarves aren’t big on climbing trees.
The pair seemed to have a minimum of gear. She quickly began to suspect much of it had been scavenged from the dead bandits and Caldur's band. Curious.
Maybe they are making an attempt for subclasses? Though the dwarf certainly looks the right age for his Walk. Didn't Brokenhammer Dwarves start without a chit to their name and only a loincloth? Amber tried to remember what she'd read about the practice, but gave up and went with her gut when the new insights that came with her new body lent a surety to the thought.
Good, it means he should be more amenable.
The dwarf tsked twice. “I’ve heard that one a few times in my day, girl. It is a girl, right? I can’t tell through all that armor.” The dwarf chuckled, of all things. His eyes lazily shifted to his companion, then back, but he made no motion for any of the nearby weapons. Instead, he leaned back to rest on his palms and studied her closely.
The sweet scent of raspberries, the earthy tang of turned soil, and the calming aroma of the fire grew in intensity, and Amber felt her shoulders relax a little.
Aura! she realized and ground her teeth.
I should've brought the others, she admitted to herself while stiffening her spine against the calm.
The catkin, a big breed she’d never encountered or heard mentioned before, with a fluffy beard, short tail, and long wisps of hair growing over a handbreadth from the tops of her ears, had slowly started to circle behind Amber, and she struggled to keep them both in sight.
Amber focused against the pressure of the dwarf's calming aura and took in a short sniff. She got the distinctive musk of a young female cat and relaxed slightly. At least it's not a male or a mother.
“Yes, I’m female,” she nodded, answering his question while keeping her eyes firmly on the dwarf. He was her way out. Purebred catkin were... unpredictable. She would have to leave it to Freya to keep her safe from the feline.
“Go on, now, what did you need?” he asked.
She sighed, almost relieved at the classic dwarven gruffness and direct manner.
Amber swallowed and pulled at the torc that Chess had yet to find a way to cover properly with armor, which, after a thought, decided a path forward for her.
“My mistress bade me search this trail to see if I could find our watchers or anyone who had made it out of the nearby fight alive, and report back,” she explained in an obsequious voice. She watched and felt for a reaction, but he matched her gaze evenly without a hiccup in his calm confidence.
“We had no part in that mess, other than finishing off the injured lioness and taking a few common trinkets, her meat, and hide. We found the first bodies yesterday and tracked them back to that mess,” the dwarf said evenly, waving in her direction.
Amber believed him and another quick surge of her Sense Emotions Pyth didn't contradict her gut.
“As was your right. Thank you, Master Dwarf, for leaving the bodies of the soldiers without looting their inheritances,” Lynn said, giving him a short bow.
The dwarf nodded curtly. “Right enough, no sense in disturbing men who died doing their duty more than needful.”
Every dwarf is a soldier at some point in their first century, she reminded herself.
“Would your mistress be opposed to leaving the other lion hides for us to harvest? We have some freshly cooked meat from the other one we could trade if you require,” he asked, an affable smile creasing his lips.
Okay, he intends to let me go if I don't make myself an enemy. Amber sighed, then finally couldn’t take it any longer and glanced back at the hitherto quiet catkin. It took all her restraint to keep her hands from her hammer when she found the feline mere feet behind her. She'd gotten there silently and without magic, though she'd discarded her spear at some point.
Even unarmed, all the cat would have to do was jump on her and hold her for the dwarf to finish.
Amber turned back to the dwarf. Focus, Lynn, focus, she reminded herself while resisting a shiver. Don’t show fear. Get answers and get out. “How long has it been since you started butchering her?” she asked.
“Less than half a day. She should be good still if you get back to her soon and have some way to preserve the meat," the dwarf cautioned. "The others had been dead for about a day when we found them, but she'd been crippled and left to die, so we put her down."
“We’ll do that and leave you the hides. If it’s all the same?” Amber asked, keeping her expression bland.
“Sounds more than fair to me,” the dwarf agreed with a firm nod. “Did you need anything else?” he prompted.
“No. Happy hunting,” Amber said as a way of farewell, before turning and taking a wide berth around the cat-kin on her way back to the trail.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Come, leave her be,” the dwarf said to his companion as Amber quickly fled the pair.
A dwarven Grandmaster and a fur-raising true-cat of all things. Freya, protect me from folly. She shook her head but couldn't help but smile in relief as she left the clearing.
“But she wore a collar and smelled of fear,” she heard the cat say in a sibilant voice.
“That’s no business of ours. She’s likely born to it; if her mistress lets her go off on her own armed and armored like that, nothing we could do for her. Likely hate us if we tried.” The rest of the discussion faded as Amber drew away. A purebred cat that speaks perfect Brastian. What's the world coming to?
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“Well, did you find them?” Chess demanded after she'd crawled through the opening in Chess's bramble hedge. Chess was still upset about being left behind.
“Yes, just a pair of wanderers that found the battle before we did. They're holed up in a shelter a lot like something you could make with your vines. They followed the laws, so there is no need to bother them further. Besides, I didn't sense anything but wariness and amusement from them. I'm certain they had nothing to do with this conflict,” Lynn explained waving at the bloody clearing. “I made a concession,” she added, nodding at the carcass of the butchered lion. “We can harvest the rest of her. She’s still fresh enough; they put her down a few hours ago and took what they needed already. I told them we'd leave them the hides of the other lions."
"We should hurry though; they'll be here shortly. Ashley, and Flemming, would you two see about the hearts and other useful organs? Leave the brains and be sure to make a good gut cut. I don't want them to have a reason to follow us."
"Aren't you being a little silly?" Chess asked, and glanced back the way Amber had come.
"You've never met a pure catkin, have you?" Amber asked.
"No? You know that," Chess huffed.
"Keep it that way as long as you can. Trust me," Kan interjected over his shoulder where he stood diligent guard over Ashley.
"Isn't that a little...speciesist?" Chess asked with a frown, sparing a glance at Ashley. "For that matter, what makes you certain they were wanderers?"
"Just trust me, pure cats are terrifying and unpredictable. The dwarf has to be equally mad to travel and work with one. Though his aura likely helps." She shivered. "That, or he has to be so powerful it doesn't matter to him. Either is enough for me to stay away. He is a Grandmaster Farmer. Even dwarves don't get there without a lot of coin and influence.
"As for how I'm sure? Besides him being a Grandmaster, Dwarves don't turn bandit. They'd rather eat their beards first. Even the exiles would rather starve to death, it's a firm tenet of their faiths. Any dwarf found with the tendency is immediately made a slave by their people. Full-blooded dwarves rarely leave their mines before they're over 100 years old and go on their Walk. That's a lot of time to develop a skill. This one looked to be almost exactly 100," Amber explained.
"That seems like a pretty hard generalization. Dwarves are just people too," Chess observed.
"Yes, but it's generally true," Amber said with a deprecating smile.
"I did get a better idea of the time frame though. It's been little more than a day since they started finding bodies, and the lion corpses were about a day old when they found them."
"That could be bad. The Canfree bastard and his crew are likely still nearby," Kan said.
"Yeah," Amber agreed, and her hand fell to the crossbow on her belt as she scanned beyond the brambles. "All the more reason to leave. We need to see if the horses are still in the pen you made, Chess."
Freya, please keep them away until we reach the Heel, she beseeched the sky silently.
----------------------------------------
“We're being followed,” Amber advised casually. “I'm hoping it's just the dwarf making sure we are being straight with him. But we should be careful, the last thing we need to do right now is run into Graventy and his goons.”
Chess checked the strap securing her helm and glanced back to make sure Ashley still wore hers. She shouldn’t have bothered; it was clear Kan remained diligent about his duty at the rear of their group. She smiled at the pair and signaled for them to group closer to talk.
“We have a tail,” Amber informed Kan when he drew up.
“The dwarf?” Kan asked.
“Or his companion. There is a bit too much excitement in their emotions for a century-old dwarf. And I haven’t heard anything,” Amber reasoned.
“Well, the horse enclosure isn’t far, so the point may be moot. If there are any left,” Kan said.
“Keep your shields and bows ready,” Amber advised, raising both implements and checking the bolt currently slotted. The rest followed her example.
Nothing happened for the next ten minutes and Chess was starting to dismiss it as unimportant when Amber halted in her tracks. Chess had to step to the side to avoid plowing into her back.
“What is it?” Chess asked, looking at her companion.
“Pain,” Amber said, and Chess could hear the strain in her voice. Amber took a steadying breath and a step backward before continuing. “Someone is in a catastrophic amount of pain ahead. I haven’t sensed something like it since…” she cut off and inhaled sharply. “It’s not important. We need to leave the path and circle around. It’s coming from practically on top of the horse enclosure.”
Without another word, the group headed off the trail and, using the huge trees as cover, leapfrogged around the large enclosure.
Chess noted with some relief the soft whinnies and snorts of horses as they circled closer.
When they were a quarter of the way around the circumference, Chess heard a pitiful coughing wheeze that sunk into her soul and froze her feet to the spot for a moment.
Hugging the nearest tree, Chess peered out at the dense growth of brambles she'd grown an age ago.
“Fuuuck…” The drawn-out word burbled out involuntarily. “Is he?”
“He’s still-” Amber didn’t finish the sentence as a sharp thwack sounded out and she took a staggering step forward before catching herself.
Two impossibly close hammer blows drove into the center of Chess’s back cracking against her armor and making her stagger a step forward to her knees. She distantly heard the sound of the Heliwr taking to the sky with a cacophony of wing beats.
“What?” Chess asked, confused, and looked back toward Amber.
“Shie…” she heard both Amber and Ashley start to say before something hit the back of her skull and drove her helmeted head into the tree.
Blackness.
----------------------------------------
Stace wanted to cackle with joy.
Ken had been right. Following the group had been laughably easy when she went down to all fours and stalked them like a real cat. The instinct for moving silently seemed ingrained in her new body, and she found an easy loping rhythm that allowed her to keep up with the small group while remaining relatively silent.
The softly whispering giants surrounding her did an admirable job of disguising the odd sounds she did make.
Ken had taken her pack and stored it along with everything except her makeshift skirt, spear, which she’d strapped to her back with a length of leather, and a belt with a few pouches.
She felt like some ancient tribal warrior out stalking deer. It felt primal and right.
With her tree still firmly planted in mind, all it would take was a quick touch of any of the surrounding giants and she'd be back to the safety of their camp.
Every few hundred feet she left a small arrow of black ash on a tree—the ash from a small pouch full Ken had taken from one of the older fires—so he could follow at a safe distance without being noticed.
Noting the group ahead had slowed, Stace hugged one of the grey behemoths and watched as they left the small game trail they'd been following for the last ten minutes.
Stace marked the tree with a sideways checkmark and took off, paralleling them at a matching pace.
When they slowed further and then stopped, Stace crouched against a large root to peer out but couldn't see what had their attention past the intervening trees.
Stace heard a faint whinny and snort before all sounds from the noble's group suddenly cut off. Even the birds went silent in that direction.
Horses? What the? she thought, then heard a flat voice to her left.
Stace slid closer to her tree before popping her head up to see. A dozen men stood in a rough line using a thicket of smaller trees as cover.
"Use Grave's Concussive arrows and take out the elf first, she's their mage. She's the slim one in the middle. He’s offering a hefty bounty if we take her alive. Kill the rest," a tall man commanded the group. His words were followed by a chorus of creaking sounds.
Stace ducked to the other side of her tree for a better vantage and watched as the group of dirty grey-armored men drew back impressively tall red-wood bows and let fly at the backs of the group she'd been following.
She'd half expected, with a twinge of guilty dread, that the lady and her retinue would be cut down by the ambush. But the beautiful wooden and crystal armor the elf and her companions wore stood up to the glittering steel heads of the ambushers’ arrows.
And they weren't taken completely unaware, as a figure that hadn't been present in the clearing earlier stepped in front of the youngster and deftly caught a few arrows with his shield.
Five shafts from the haphazard barrage hit the elf, who fell to her knees with an audible 'oof', then slumped forward against the slate grey tree they'd been hiding against. Three missiles had slammed into her back, followed a half-second later by two to the back of her helmeted head, each landing with a loud ca-thunk.
Another hit the tall statuesque woman, who'd visited their camp, in the shoulder and spun her like a top, but she kept her feet with the grace of a dancer, spinning into a half-crouch with her shield up.
A final two arrows missed completely and cracked into a spray of splinters against the tree behind them.
Stace then watched slack-jawed as the small group took a practiced step back and raised their shields, yelling 'shield' in a short bark.
Immediately a nimbus of amber and blue magic sparked to life around the group, which stepped back as one to cover their fallen friend.
The unarmored slave, in his threadbare shirt and pants, bolted to the right, out of the line of fire. He made it a half dozen yards before his body went rigid and he face-planted in the soft loam and looked like he was having a seizure or someone had tased him. His drumming heels shot clumps of mulched leaves into the air.
Stace winced at the sight.
"Chess!" A young voice called out.
"Focus," a man and a woman's voice commanded in unison just as the second volley of arrows plowed into the noble's group. This one largely aimed at the man armored in chainmail. These had less effect than the first. The magic around the group flared in a cascade of rainbow colors with every hit and the arrows seemed to simply fall from the sky without making a mark on his raised shield.
The trio raised their intricately wrought crossbows and rested them on the rims of their shields before, with a round of clicks, they fired.
There was no sound of the bolts striking, only the sound of cloven air.
As one, the defending group tossed the crossbows over their shoulders and Stace gaped as they didn't come crashing down on the fallen elf but instead fell slowly, like lint in a sunbeam.
Stace glanced at the staggered line of ambushers and frowned as they all still stood.
Did they all miss? she barely finished the thought before one of the men slumped where he stood and looked blankly at the center of his chest. Another two simply toppled forward like puppets with their strings cut.
I thought that only happened in movies.
A crunching sound behind her made her whirl around, her heart beating a staccato. She fumbled desperately with her spear for a moment before she registered Ken's face.
The leader of the attackers yelled, "Their shields are down, now hit them! Volley!" And Stace turned back.
"Volley!" his men answered in unison.
A menacing red aura surrounded the attacking group, and Stace turned to their target. The man in chainmail had stepped to the fore with his companions stacked up behind him. The red shield from the woman now covered his weapon side.
Stace flinched as a torrential rain of arrows struck the man.
He didn't flinch, though his legs and shield now looked like the back of a porcupine.
Stace looked at Ken wide-eyed.
Ken crouched next to her and took a peek for himself, and together, they watched the archers fire another handful of volleys at the crouched figures before their sinister aura faded.
At a command from their leader, the bandits dropped their bows and charged the small group at a trot.
Two of the men burst into an impossible dash, clumps of soil fountaining behind them, spears out like lances, as they blurred forward only to falter a step, and then faceplant when the two women poked their heads out and fired their crossbows.
The pair were able to reload again before their foes reached them, which dropped the ambushers to half the remaining men before they entered melee range.
"Come," Ken advised in a soft voice.
"What?" Stace gave him an incredulous look.
Ken smiled. "Helping an armored noble fight off bandits can only be a good thing for us. Especially one that's willing to let us be after taking their spoils of war."
Ken hefted his spear, and Stace followed a cautious few paces behind.
Bloody crazy backward dwarf.
"You're fucking insane," Stace whispered at his back. "Why would we help slavers?"
"Because these idiots are insane for trying to attack people in plate armor like this. They must fear something more than dying here. And I don't think her people are of a mind to take one alive," he reasoned as he broke into a trot.
They needn't have bothered.
In the end, one bandit turned to flee only to receive Ken's spear to his unarmored leg. Ken left the leg pinned to the ground and said cheerfully, "Now, you stay right there, son." He kicked away the man's sword, then knelt on his chest to divest him of his knives and other weapons. The man looked at the spear in his thigh, where blood slowly bubbled out, and took hold of it while staring murder at Ken.
"I wouldn't advise pulling that out just yet as I'm sure it's near your femoral artery," Ken said in the same tone and grabbed the haft again to hold it in place while he watched the brutal end to the fight.
The young man just stared blankly at the spear in his leg, unable to escape Ken's grip and unwilling to make his wound bigger.
Stace suspected he was still on an adrenaline high as he didn't make a peep. She'd had similar happen to her after particularly bad beatings.
The remaining three, including their leader, fought the elf's small party to the death.
When the young girl twisted out and threw what looked like a frisbee at a man, who dodged, only for the tall woman to pulverize his head with a casual backhand blow from her hammer despite his helmet, then attached her creepy veins to the mess that was his head, Stace looked away. Instead, she focused on Ken's ramrod-straight back and waited for it to be over.
She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat from the visceral sights and breathed through her mouth to counter the cloying scents of violent death.
The entire exchange had taken no more than a minute and a half. Ten people were dead, and Ken had the eleventh pinned to the ground.
"Now what?" Stace asked nervously.
"Come," Ken said and "tsked" twice.
He glanced down at the now whimpering bandit. "You can stay here for now."
Stace felt her tension ease a little with the increasing pleasant scent of the nearby berry bushes overpowering the coppery smell of blood.
----------------------------------------
Chess was drawn from blackness to hazy wakefulness by the feeling of someone removing her helm and probing at her skull with their fingertips.
“Is she going to be okay?” a familiar voice asked from nearby.
Good, Gramps is here. Chess thought through the fog. He'll be sure to get my truck out.
“I don't know, she took quite the blow to the head. She's lucky she was wearing her helm for once," someone answered.
“Gramps, I’m fine. I’ve had worse… I think,” Chess mumbled in English and the pair grew quiet as she blinked her eyes open. When she brought the looming figures into a semblance of focus, she made her lips part in a weak smile at the lined face hovering over her. When did he grow such a magnificent beard? How long have I been unconscious?
That's when the entirety of the last month's memories slammed into her, and she felt tears building in the corners of her eyes at what him leaning over her meant.
“Gramps?” her grandfather asked, in English, raising a large bushy eyebrow.
Chess's heart soared at the language.
She ignored his question and, with desperate hope, decided to rip the Band-Aid off in one go. “Yeah, that time I took a header from my dirt bike when I was, like, thirteen was worse. I wasn’t wearing my helmet and you tore me a new asshole and threatened to beat me black and blue with a zucchini if I failed to wear one again. A fucking zucchini! Remember?” Chess asked and chuckled. Which made her wince.
Chess watched with wry amusement as her grandfather was rocked back on his heels by the dawning realization.
"Oh. Well. That…” he laughed, coughed, then spluttered. The following pause felt like an eternity to Chess, “That's… unexpected…"
Gramps squinted at her for another long breath, and Chess did an internal fist pump at having rocked the terminally unflappable man.
Still, her belly quickly tied itself into a knot of dread as the silence dragged out longer and longer.
"Well," he coughed again, then smiled wickedly. "At least you'll never put me through another one of your 'is it my baby?' scares again," Ken observed. "And I expect great-grandchildren, young woman!"
"Uh," Chess winced, glanced at Ashley, then behind her, and decided to take the offensive.
"You know... I never took you for a furry, grandpa," Chess countered in a thoughtful voice of her own while giving the catkin woman who hovered intimately close to her grandfather a significant look. At least the cat looks female.
"Hey!" The catkin said in English.
Chess stared at her in surprise.
"Me?" Gramps chuckled. "You're the chicken-shit that could never find the nerve to ask her out properly. You pined over her for nearly a year. 'Boohoo, she never takes me seriously.' I told you, it doesn't count when you ask a woman out at work. That's why all those hairstylists always turned you down."
“Wait, what?” Chess asked, and rocked back to study the catkin even closer. No resemblance to anyone I know. Granted, that's a lot of fur.
“Now, that’s just rude. How could you not recognize the object of your dearest desires, Miss Stace Haes?” Ken asked with a gleeful grin.
"Chester," Stace said with a very scary grin of her own. That's a lot of sharp teeth.
Chess flushed bright red, shuffled backward, and held up her hands. "Mercy, old man, mercy. I just took a blow to the head!"
“Old dwarf,” Ken and Stace corrected at the same time, then the pair shared a look.
Chess felt lost for a moment and glanced at Amber for support. Belatedly, she realized she didn't understand the conversation and was standing patiently, features hidden by her imposing helm.
"It's nice to see you didn't lose your wit with your height," Chess said in Brastian and gave him a rueful smile.
“It’s nice to see you’re still a pain in my ass no matter my vantage point,” Ken countered.
Chess blinked for a second before gathering her wits to speak.
“Stop,” Gramps grumbled, and held up his hands. “Give an old man a hug already.” He opened his arms wide.
“Old dwarf,” Chess whispered into his ear.
Gramps chuckled. “I’m glad I found you so soon,” he whispered back and squeezed. Hard.
Chess felt the breath leave her lungs in a whoosh as her ribs creaked.
"If not for what's happened since we got here, I wouldn't have believed a word," Ken said before easing off the pressure. "Who are your friends?"
"No consideration for the fairer sex!" Chess wheezed.