Chapter 321 - Melancholy (Patreon)

Pudge sat on his haunches, staring at the flickering flames of the campfire Sasha had started. It was tied to some sort of barrier that would supposedly dissuade monsters from stumbling upon them in their sleep, but he didn’t understand any of that. Her ability to manipulate different forms of mana was a confusing mess to his untrained eyes, and he much preferred his own skills. They were straightforward, and they made sense to him in a way her amorphous abilities never would. Still, throughout their journey – which had gone far longer than expected – they had proved useful enough.

“Are you alright?” asked Sasha, locking her eyes on his. “You’ve been quieter than normal lately.”

“I can’t feel him.”

“What?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Her bristly fur glistened in the firelight. From the few times he’d touched her, he knew that it was much softer than it appeared.

“My brother,” Pudge admitted, referring to Zeke. In some ways, it was a misleading label. However, it was as accurate a description of the bond between him and Zeke as he was capable of articulating. Besides, referring to Zeke in that manner had saved him a lot of explanation. For some reason, he didn’t think Sasha would approve of any bond with a human. Or in Zeke’s case, a cambion.

“Is he…you know…”

Pudge shook his huge head, then ran one claw just behind his ear, giving it a slight scratch. It wasn’t the same as having someone else do it – Abby had always given great scratches – but it was still a comforting gesture. Then, he sighed. Would he ever find them? Abby, he doubted. After her betrayal, neither Talia nor Zeke would tolerate her presence. For Pudge’s part, he only vaguely understood what had happened; the nuances of human interaction had – and still did, if he was honest – evaded him. At first, he had even thought she’d tried to kill Zeke, but even hampered by the nature of his bestial intelligence, it hadn’t taken long to figure out that her betrayal was of a different sort.

Either way, he needed to forget about her. Even if they were ever reunited, which given the size of this new world, seemed unlikely, it would not be a happy reunion. No – a clean break was better. Whatever the case, he couldn’t be concerned about the others when Zeke felt so far away.

He wasn’t gone. Pudge could tell that much. But Zeke felt as if he was on the other side of the world. Maybe in another world entirely. The connection was tenuous and barely more than a tickle in the back of his mind.

“He’s not dead,” Pudge stated with some conviction. “Just very far away.”

“Then we might be going the wrong way?” she asked.

Pudge shrugged his massive shoulders, saying, “I don’t know.”

And that was the problem. Pudge wasn’t Zeke, and as such, he wasn’t used to blundering forward without any sort of guidance or planning. He needed to know where he was going. Otherwise, he would lose his way – both metaphorically and realistically.

From a symbolic perspective, if Pudge didn’t have Zeke as his guiding star, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Go back to the Pale Moon Territory? The very idea left him feeling somehow lesser. He didn’t look down on the beastkin who lived there. It was a safe and reasonably prosperous settlement. And it was a good life – for them. But for Pudge? He knew he’d go insane confined to such a place.

He might not have been as reckless and untethered as Zeke, but he still couldn’t exist without danger. Or more accurately, the challenge associated with it. In that way, they were as alike as two brothers could be.

Not surprising, considering that Zeke had raised him.

“Do we go back?” Sasha asked, her small ears twitching. She sat across from him, her staff lying across her lap. She clutched it tightly – the only evidence of her fear. They’d left the swamp far behind, but the things she’d seen in that bog had stuck with her. With Pudge, too – they’d witnessed three more sacrifices before climbing out of that quagmire of corruption. Luckily, they’d avoided the trolls’ notice, but the constant danger had left its mark on the both of them. To say they were tense – even a week later – would be an understatement.

“I…I can’t do that,” Pudge said, the words coming out in a low growl he didn’t intend.

Sasha took it in stride, saying, “Then we need to chart our course.” As she spoke, she reached over to her pack and retrieved a map. Then, she pushed herself to her feet, circled the fire, and planted herself beside Pudge. Pudge flinched a little when she sat so close that their hips touched, but Sasha ignored it, spreading the map between them. She pointed to a lighter-colored portion of the map and said, “This is the swamp.” Then, she traced a line from its center to a spot a half-inch away. “And this is our position. So, you see the problem?”

Pudge had no experience reading maps, so he shook his head and said, “No.”

She sighed, which came out as a soft snort. “Okay, so if we keep going in this direction, we’re going to cross into the Narascu Plains.  And you see this little skull here? That means it’s really dangerous,” she said. “Like, avoid-at-all-costs dangerous. But if we venture this way, we’ll probably start running into other people. And that usually doesn’t go well for our kind.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “Most of the other races look at us as monsters,” she said. “Not all, of course. We have allies. But most just see evolved monsters when they look at us.”

“We are.”

“Yes, sure. And I’m proud of what I am,” she went on. “The thing is that there are other races that have similar ancestry. The only difference is that they…uh…they’re bloodlines are mostly pure, and they have sufficient numbers to keep the other races from ganging up on them. We don’t, which is why we came together as a loose collection of beastkin in the first place. Away from the Pale Moon Territory, we won’t have any protections but our own power.”

“Ah,” Pudge said. Then, he pointed one clawed finger at a label a few inches from their position on the map. “This Westport, it is a city?”

“The greatest city in the region,” Sasha explained. “Is that…is that where you want to go?”

Pudge shook his head, saying, “No. We need to go this way.” He dragged his claw across the map on a northerly route and into a region denoted by a slightly paler tint. That route would take them through the Narascu Plains and into a huge forest before terminating in a large expanse abutted by a mountain range.

“The Plains are –”

“Dangerous,” Pudge provided. “Yes. But we are stealthy. We will be fine.”

“And this forest, it’s populated by a race of terrestrial simians,” Sasha added. “Fittingly, it is called the Stone Ape Forest. But if we can get through the Plains, we should be able to make it through the forest. And besides, we won’t go deeper than the edges, so with any luck, we could avoid hostilities. However, the tundra worries me more than any other.”

“Why?”

“Dwarves,” she said. “They are…evil.”

Pudge exhaled with a soft snort. In his experience, good and evil didn’t exist. Only self-interest.

“They…they dabble in dark powers,” she said. “Everyone knows the tale of the Stone Dwarves of Min Ferilik. Once, they were a mighty empire with territory spanning across…across the world. But they were beset by conflict with their mortal enemies – a race of elves – and slowly, their civilization was chipped away. With nowhere else to turn, they harnessed dark, demonic power and repelled the invasion. For centuries, they remained sealed in their mountain city until recently – in the past few decades – they began to venture out once more. But they were changed.”

“How?” Pudge asked. After all, he was part demon himself, though he didn’t think Sasha knew. Perhaps these dwarves had undergone a similar transformation.

Sasha shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly,” she stated. “But it doesn’t matter. Dwarves can be unreasonable in the best of times, but these…these Stone Dwarves, they started abducting people. Buying them. Nobody knows what happens to the ones they take, but none are ever seen again. Heron says that they are used in demonic sacrifices. I never believed it before, but after what we saw…”

Pudge frowned. It made some sense, except that the connection he’d felt to Zeke had clearly led him in that direction. It had since been cut off – mostly – but he knew his brother was still among the living. That made the sacrifice theory unlikely. But as Pudge thought about it, a seed of an idea began to blossom.

Perhaps Zeke had found his way to this plane’s version of the demon realm. If so, that would explain the distance. In fact, the more Pudge thought about it, the more sense it made. The problem was that he only had his own reasoning on which to lean – and it wasn’t as well-practiced as he might’ve hoped. After all, in the Radiant Isles, he’d always had someone else to lead the way.

“What are you thinking?” asked Sasha.

“That being on my own is difficult,” he answered. “Once, when I was a cub, I often dreamed of choosing my own path. I thought of it as an adventure. But now, the burden of choice feels heavy. I did not expect that.”

“You aren’t alone,” Sasha said, putting her smaller hand over his. “I’m right here with you, Pudge.”

“Why?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise before she said, “What do you mean?”

“Why would you risk yourself like this?” he asked. “You had a good life. A safe life. You had friends and family. Yet, you have followed me into the wilderness, and you’ve never once considered turning back. I know you want to see the world. I know you want adventure. But where you can have those things without me.”

“We…we are friends,” she said. “Partners.”

Pudge looked deep into her eyes. “I…I’ve never had…that,” he admitted. Before, he’d thought that what he’d shared with Talia was a friendship, but there was always a wall between them. Like she couldn’t bring herself to look at him as anything more than a beast. A pet. Even Zeke saw him as a little brother of sorts. It was not a companionship of equals.

But Sasha…she was the first person to ever look at him as his own person. And that made all the difference in the world.

Her hand tightened on his, and she shifted slightly closer. The crackle of the fire snapped and popped, accompanying the slight chirp of cicadas. She looked up into his eyes. Pudge felt like he should say something, but he had no idea what that might be. So, he remained silent, gazing at her.

Then, she spread her arms and embraced him. With her snout against his chest, Sasha hugged him tight. And to Pudge’s surprise, he hugged her right back, burying his own face against her shoulder.

Before he knew what was happening, Pudge was weeping. They weren’t tears of grief or pain, but rather the release of an accumulation of stress. Until that point, he hadn’t realized how empty he’d felt ever since losing his connection to Zeke. He was alone in a way he’d never been, and though he’d kept putting one foot in front of the other, he hadn’t let himself acknowledge his own emotions. As a result, they’d continued to build, compounding on themselves until he felt like he was going to explode from the pressure.

And with that embrace, Sasha had given him the opportunity for a release he could delay no longer.

His tears lasted for far longer than he might have expected, but then again, he’d never really wept before. In his previous form, it was impossible; sure, his body was biologically capable of it, but the act of creating tears hadn’t been tied to emotion. That had clearly changed when he’d taken on a humanoid form.

For hours, he and Sasha embraced, taking comfort from one another until, finally, Pudge pulled away. When he did, he said, “I…I apologize. I didn’t mean to burden you with…that.”

“It’s okay,” Sasha said, wiping her snout with a handkerchief she’d pulled from a pocket on her wide leather belt. “I needed a good cry, too.”

“You…you do that often?”

The idea was horrifying to Pudge. Once was enough.

“Of course,” she said. “My dad used to tell me that crying is a necessary part of life. It’s what separates us from our less-evolved kin. Monsters don’t cry. They feel emotion, sure. They get sad. But they don’t cry. We do.”

“And that distinction matters?”

She nodded. “It does,” was her response. “Heron once told me that he thinks the emotions monsters feel are just mimicry. They’re smart, you know. Just as smart as us. But they can’t feel what we feel – not really. He said that they just copy what they’ve seen from people.”  She smiled slightly, adding, “Of course, you’d probably know more about that than I do, having evolved yourself.”

Pudge nodded, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lost himself in thought. Sure, he’d felt plenty of emotions in his life back in the Radiant Isles. He’d been happy. Sad. He’d experienced plenty of anger, fear, and frustration, too. But they had been shallow. Nothing like what he’d felt since ascending and evolving. So, he had to wonder if there was some truth to old Heron’s words.

Finally, Pudge said, “Maybe. I didn’t…my life back in the…Mortal Realm…was unique, I think. Because of my brother and…his friends.”

Pudge hated his lacking verbal skills. Sometimes, he simply didn’t have the words to describe what he felt. Still, Sasha seemed to understand the sentiment, and she said, “I guess we’ll just have to believe what we want to believe, then. But I meant what I said, Pudge. I’m your friend. We’ll stick together no matter what.”

It seemed a bit premature to call one another friends, at least in Pudge’s estimation. But how was it any different from how quickly Zeke had befriended Tucker or Talia? Maybe it wasn’t a function of time, but of compatibility. And whatever else was true, Pudge and Sasha were compatible. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made it so far together.

“Sticking together, then,” Pudge said. Then, he added, “How long do you think until we reach the Plains?”

“Tomorrow, maybe? As many as two days, depending on how fast we can go,” she answered. When he asked about the Stone Ape Forest, she told him that it would probably take a week to traverse unless they wanted to cut through the center. Then, another week to cross the tundra and reach the mountain range that Pudge suspected would be their final destination.

“We have a plan,” he announced, feeling slightly better as he looked up at the dark sky.

“Yeah,” was her response. Then, she said, “I think we need to get some sleep if we’re going to get an early start.”

“Yes.”

Then, she glanced down at the ground and mumbled, “Maybe we can…uh…cuddle. For warmth. It’s cold and…”

Pudge nodded. “Good idea,” he said. For some reason, the bits of mostly bare skin around her eyes turned pink. Curious reaction, that.