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Pokémon Another Way (Pokémon Mystery Dungeon / OC Isekai)

Chapter 36: Penumbra
  • redspah

    the gay agenda
    Pronouns
    she/her


    Chapter 36: Penumbra



    The most awkward part of tearful reunions comes immediately after the tears.

    As emotional as the meeting of the two villages was, the practical concerns of several dozen cartload’s worth of gifts took over Newmoon’s attention soon after. That didn’t mean there was no talking or especially no affection—there was, even if not as much as there could have been—but that it had to take a back seat for the time being.

    For the most part, everyone involved was entirely okay with that. Even excluding any malicious reasons, many visitors from Moonview didn’t end up exchanging more than a handful of words with the other village. For some, it was because they were still unsure what to say after all that had happened; for others, it was a caring impulse that didn’t want to overwhelm the already-rattled denizens of Newmoon. Some others still just... didn’t know enough to say anything about anyone here. Sue didn’t need to be a local to tell that Moonview had grown a fair bit over the past few years, and they would see the other village as simply strangers. Strangers more than deserving of a charitable act, absolutely, but strangers all the same.

    As the Forest Guardian soon realized, Lilly was a part of that group as well. After Sue had gotten off the cart, Ginger asked the leafy dancer to take the cart full of berries further into the village, where it still sat. Once she was done, though, she—and Bluegrass, after he had emerged from their fruity cargo—dashed right back over to Sue, her sudden skittishness downright palpable for the psychic. Could’ve been the leftover tension in the air, could’ve been the unfamiliar territory. Could’ve been something else altogether.

    With a nudge, Sue guided them both and Spark further into the settlement, both to have a quieter spot to themselves and to get away from the main thoroughfare. She considered bringing up what her friend was feeling right away, before deciding against it. Partly because she was already doing a good job getting a gradual grip on herself, going over what Sue had told her after the drunken celebrations a few days ago. Partly because the place was loud, and Sue really didn’t feel like trying to raise her voice over the din just to be heard.

    Which left waiting until others were done, and that much they could absolutely do—Spark?

    Sue blinked after only seeing grassy dirt in the spot the lil’ fox had been just moments prior. She looked around and caught just the tip of her yellow-red tail as it slunk behind some nearby bushes, stirring concern in her. It only lasted for about a second before both her psychic senses and the ears caught up, though. The former was keen to inform her that the vixen felt no less relieved than they did, mixed with an infectious dose of excitement.

    The latter confirmed her hunch that Pollux, for all his stealthiness, didn’t seem to be aware of the concept of keeping his voice down.

    Before long, the grassy serpent’s worries had calmed down enough to let him at least curl up behind the other two and wait out the rush. With just her and Lilly left to their own devices, the Forest Guardian scooted half a step closer towards the planty dancer, joining her in watching goods be unloaded onto basically every non-muddy flat surface in sight, rooftops not excluded. She hoped it wouldn’t end up raining, and evidently so did the builders—except they were both capable and very willing to do something as a precaution. Ginger included once more.

    If nothing else, it was amusing watching them cut an entire thin log into quarters in less than a minute, before using each split part as a stake and attaching one of the large canvasses the convoy had brought with itself to them. The resulting... sunshade was scuffed even by Newmoon’s standards, but like most other things here, it would be likely reused for something else down the line. Sue had the slightest tingle of an idea that the builders only did all this to have an excuse to do something together after all these years. Especially considering Ginger’s unusually energetic sawing.

    Good for them either way.

    As they went through a hyper-accelerated team(re)building exercise, the rest of the convoy slowly trickled in. Once everyone was done with their cargo, they mostly followed Sue’s footsteps and began chatting amongst themselves off to the side. Some others, acting either out of benevolence or impatience, helped those trying to catch up move their items faster. A handful dared walk into Newmoon proper and have a look around. Solstice, in particular, was keeping the entire process under control, calling everyone individually while psychicing cargo around to the extent her mind allowed her to.

    Newmoon’s residents helped wherever they could, but the extent to which they could even do so was... limited. There’s only so fast anyone can pull a cart or carry a bundle of bricks—especially with many of them magically levitating through the air on their own as is—and the unpaved road the convoy had used was already only barely wide enough to accommodate their largest carts. For the most part, everyone willing to help did so on the back end, preemptively sorting the received items amongst themselves or deciding where they should be stored.

    That accounted for most of the locals, but not all.

    Heather was nowhere to be seen, which Sue couldn’t blame her for at all. Not with how overwhelming dealing with even one person’s emotions had been for her. Alastor’s absence was more puzzling. Though, with the disguises Sue had seen him use with her very own eyes, it was entirely possible that he was helping and just didn’t want so many eyes being placed on him. For a second, Sue thought those were the only two locals unaccounted for—one murderous owl aside—but soon enough she remembered the third, one she’d only ever seen briefly before.

    She recalled back to when she woke up here after Juniper’s attack and saw the massive black furry creature known as Jasper reaching his hand towards her, as if trying to touch her. At the time, she was just weirded out. There was too much, much too much going on for her to focus on him specifically. In hindsight, though, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Did he, like Solstice before him, see his daughter in her at that moment? Was that why he was hiding even now, once the best possible news have arrived? Because bundled alongside them was someone he once loved but which had betrayed him, and someone to similar to Aurora?

    The thought stung, even if nowhere near as fiercely as yesterday. It wasn’t pleasant, no, but at least it wasn’t crippling this time. She wouldn’t let those fears, those ceaseless thoughts of comparison, take her down. Not today.

    Pretty please with a bow on top.


    Sue couldn’t deny feeling bad after Ginger noticed her standing there like a dummy and brought over a log for her and Lilly to sit on, but her legs certainly appreciated the gesture.

    She had no way of knowing how much time had passed by the time most of the unloading was done. Could’ve been an hour, could’ve been two. Either way, more than enough rest for everyone who needed any. Especially for most of the rest of the convoy. Once the first person—High Tide—found it in herself to overcome the crowd’s inertia and start heading home after unloading her share of the cargo, others began to follow soon after. Some left on their own, some in small groups, none of them seeming to mind the long path back home. Some others still needed a while, catching their breath or napping on the forest floor or even having meals they’d brought with themselves. A handful even stayed for a while longer. Not for anything social, but so that they could take the empty carts back to Moonview with themselves once all of them were unloaded.

    Some others, though, set out to enjoy their visit, and got to chatting.

    Lilly had been growing calmer this entire time, much to Sue’s relief, but her heart hadn’t calmed down all the way yet. Not for a lack of trying either, especially if her holding Sue’s hand and resting her head on her shoulder were any signs. Something told Sue that those were certainly signs of something, but alas; she was illiterate in Moonview’s language. And too flustered to acknowledge what her built-in emotional translator has been trying to tell her. Never a good combination, that one.

    Sue considered bringing up the topic of her nerves after she’d reestablished the link with her, but suffered from the perennial issue of not knowing what to say. She doubted she could say anything about the folks of Newmoon that Lilly hadn’t already figured out. All she could really offer was reassurance as her friend’s mind churned through the murk at its own pace.

    She couldn’t do much, but that at least was very much within her ability. She held Lilly’s leafy hand that bit closer and leaned her head over hers. The planty dancer probably didn’t even have a heart that could swell in the first place, but Sue had felt it do so anyway.

    “Thank, Sue,” Lilly said softly, breaking the silence.

    “You’re welcome, Lilly. You know I’m here if you wanna talk, right?” Sue meant that reassurance in all the ways it could conceivably be interpreted in, but it didn’t take long for her friend to home in on the intended meaning.

    She shuddered at that, making Sue scoot that bit closer. “Nervous, I.”

    Sue nodded firmly at that, thinking back to their chat before they left for Newmoon. If anything, she would’ve expected the worst of Lilly’s feelings to have hit before the journey began. Though, she supposed it was one thing to think about being here, and another to actually find yourself here, in the territory of people you’ve only ever heard being referred to as enemies. Either way, she was here for her, and Lilly appreciated it more than her words could express, but firmly within Sue’s ability to perceive.

    Wanting to extend her affection, Sue reached in to swap the hand Lilly was holding, freeing the one closer to her friend. She then wrapped it around her and pulled her in as close as her feeble physique could manage, pressing most of their torsos together.

    The air smelled nice.

    “I understand the nerves, heh. I was really nervous earlier too, and have been slowly calming down now. Can’t imagine you’ve ever heard anything nice about Newmoon while living in Moonview,” Sue whispered.

    Lilly was almost too preoccupied to listen to what her crush was saying, but she caught onto Sue’s words just in time to not miss their gist. “True, it. Always danger hear. Want trust, I.”

    “And I’m sure you will in time!” Sue beamed. “I know that ‘don’t worry about it’ isn’t very good advice, but I’m sure that feeling will go away with exposure sooner rather than later.”

    “Hope that, I.”

    Lilly meant her words, but Sue couldn’t help but pick up on some of the associated thoughts not exactly being directed towards the subject of their discussion. Before she could figure out the cause, Lilly let go of her hand with one of her own, and reflected her gesture back to her, pulling her in closer while almost breaking her ribcage.

    I’m surprised at how nice this feels.

    “Much thank, Sue. Happy... happy here you,” Lilly murmured, her voice unusually dreamy.

    There was one particularly likely reason for that, and it was one Sue’s thinking did a pristine loop-de-loop around, almost managing to completely evade it. At least, before her thumping heart forced her there anyway, growing her smile three sizes. “I-I’m happy you’re here, too! I’m glad I can be with you here, a-and that I can share all this with you, and...”

    Sue froze for a second, heart racing as she considered all her options. The most direct admission of what she was fully realizing deep inside her felt much, much too blunt and uncertain to go for. Not because Lilly would react badly to it, but because she would the next time her worries about ending up back on Earth inevitably sprouted up. They were already difficult to manage regarding what would happen to Lilly, even with her only thinking of the dancer as a friend or a crush at most. Anything more would be as heartbreaking as when these same thoughts veered towards Joy and Twinkle.

    At least, that’s what she feared. She neither had the time nor space to investigate these worries right now, though, forcing her to heed them. And so, instead of any direct admission either Lilly or her own psyche could hold her accountable for, she responded with a kiss on the nearest petal of Lilly’s head flower. The awareness of the dishonesty of her thought process may have dulled a fair bit of her enthusiasm from moments prior, but her feelings remained the same.

    Lilly squealed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

    It also made Sue’s heart skip a beat before her thinking and sixth sense caught up, showering her with high definition emotional warmth from her crush. Just like before, the plant girl was about to return the gesture in kind and then some—but before she could start peppering Sue’s cheek, nearby woofs caught their attention.

    Spark was looking confusedly up at them, and she wasn’t alone in that. Behind her, the small gray pup Sue recognized from her last visit here but didn’t remember the name of was acting much the same, tilting their little head one way and the other. Pollux, on the other hand, had a much better idea of the shenanigans taking place, keeping his giggling as quiet as he could.

    Lilly didn’t act on either of the kids’ reactions—but the appearance of one of them jogged her memory. “H-hey!” she pointed at Pollux, “Remember you, I!”

    Sue had no idea how she expected Pollux to react to that, but audible disappointment wasn’t it. His vocalizations sounded exasperated in a way she had no idea woofs and barks even could sound. Whatever he’d said, everyone else found it amusing. Including one particular grassy serpent waking up from his nap and peeking at the rest of the group from behind the log Sue and Lilly sat on.

    “What? Why—oooo hide try, you? Not know when hide you, but remember in trees you. Together others! Here too they?”

    Pollux’s expression deflated with Lilly’s every word—and so did her nerves, to Sue’s relief. Her final question had both foxes woof out similar calls towards the surrounding treeline, no doubt calling for the rest of the makeshift friend group. Instead of either Thistle or the crow the convoy had heard earlier, though, it was Daystar that responded to them from a nearby gathering. Judging by the mild surprise Spark had felt in response, it seemed to be an explanation for their absence.

    A hunch that lived for around a few hundred milliseconds before Lilly outright confirmed it. “Not around? Hope back soon, they.” She thought back to her recollection of the times she spotted the dark prankster fox, flicking the tips of her arms together in what Sue guessed was an equivalent of cracking her fingers. “One black bird, one small pink?”

    Two guesses, two hits, confirmed eagerly by Spark and Pollux alike. The third member of their little trio was more interested in cozying up to Sue’s legs than participating in the conversation. She briefly wondered whether he was just more... feral than the other two in his mannerisms. The thought that filled her with more than a little worry, before she thought back to the last time she saw him, revealing a much more likely cause.

    Might’ve looked like a scary wolf pup, but the emphasis here was definitely on the ‘pup’ part. He’d felt significantly younger than even the other kids. Not quite at Comet’s level, but closer to that or Joy than to Pollux.

    Together with the confirmation of Lilly’s hunches, the two older kids had also passed along the names of the two absentees. “Rainfall, Thistle? Good know! You?” she asked, pointing at Pollux. “Pollux! Star name?”

    The dark-colored fox tilted his head at Lilly’s guess, mumbling under his breath. She paid it no mind, shifting her attention to the gray pup and asking for their name in turn, before confirming it as “Howl”. She was satisfied at that, but Pollux sure wasn’t—and just a couple of woofed out words stirred Lilly into repaying him in kind. “Oh! Lilly I! Sue she! Bluegrass he!”

    The introductions were appreciated, already known, and surprising respectively, with the entire group getting caught off guard by the lil’ snake being pointed out—him most of all. He froze at all the attention with a few nervous hisses, before trying to scoot himself out of view, behind the log his company sat on.

    Only for Lilly to pick him with all the grace she was capable of and place him in view of everyone, just a couple of feet away. “Hi say to Bluegrass!” The chorus of greetings that followed had the planty reptile almost melt, but it was adorable enough that even Sue added to it, even if only Lilly understood her. She wasn’t the only unexpected voice to join in on it. A very recognizable caw coming from above caught their shared attention. “Rainfall you! Hi!”

    By now, Sue was giggling at the antics going on around her, appreciating them much more than the nervousness that preceded them, but less than the fleeting intimacy. Surely there had to have been a way for her to get her hands on more of the latter, even if not now...

    “^How are you all holding up?^” Solstice interrupted her pupil’s pondering, snagging the group’s entire attention.

    She wasn’t alone, and her company was amusing enough to even distract Bluegrass away from his own embarrassment. Seeing Ginger walk beside her was just about expected, what with them being de facto heads of their respective settlements. Seeing him be carried beside her was a slightly different matter, but one the technicolor lizard himself wasn’t objecting to in the slightest. Could’ve been because he was non-confrontational and somewhat lazy, could’ve been that Poppy’s arms were just that comfortable to be carried in.

    One of the mysteries of the world, that’s for sure.

    “Great we, meet each other!” Lilly answered, her earlier trepidation almost entirely answered.

    “Yeah! And I’m learning I wasn’t as good at disguising myself as I thought I was...” Pollux added with a pout.

    Ginger angled his head to face the night kin fox before shaking it in as close to the horizontal axis as he could get. “Nah. You’re good at disguising, Pollux. The issue comes when you get too confident to keep disguising.”

    “It gets tiring!”

    “Can imagine!” the lizard chuckled, sending the group into reserved giggles.

    “Sure sounds like all the more reason to keep practicin’ to me!” Poppy added with a full body nod, inadvertently shaking Ginger’s scaly mohawk like a rattle.

    Pollux groaned. “But I don’t wanna practice, I wanna be good at it!”

    “^Don’t we all, Pollux,^” Solstice sighed. Despite her own tension, she was holding up well, even if it required obvious effort. It wasn’t lost on Sue—or Ginger for that matter—earning her a reassuring look from both of them.

    “How’s dealing with all the stuff going?” Sue asked, genuinely curious.

    Ginger chuckled. “Well, it’s on the ground and out of your hands now. Gonna be a lotta fun finding use for it all. Not to say there ain’t none, but I’m not sure if we got enough hands for it all.”

    “^I’m sure Granite and his team are itching for an excuse to come here and help you all out some more, too.^”

    “Fair point. Though, if we’re gonna make that idea you had about building out the path between us a reality, we’ll need a bunch more hands.”

    Solstice paused for a moment at Ginger’s words before leaning back with a silent ‘oh’ and an uncertain expression. “^In all honesty, I had already forgotten about that until you reminded me just now. Not that I didn’t want it to happen, but—^”

    “No point dwelling on what’s never coming?” The Forest Guardian flinched and nodded quietly. Ginger had neither the orientation nor elevation to pat her on her shoulder, limiting himself to the only part of her within reach—her forearm. “No worry, know that feeling. And that what we think is never coming has a habit of doing it, anyway. Worth to start planning it out some more once you’ve got the time.”

    As much as both Forest Guardians appreciated the lizard’s words, the actual topic he was talking about caught the attention of the rest of the group—and of one little fox in particular. “W-wait, a new path between Moonview and Newmoon?” Spark asked, taken aback in the most positive way. “A bigger one?”

    Ginger nodded. “Aye. Not sure how much practical difference it’ll make in all honesty. If nothing else, it’d tell everyone who needs to hear it they’re safe on either end.”

    And, as an added bonus, it’ll make it impossible for any more stragglers to get lost on their way here...

    The lizard’s explanation took Spark aback as she turned towards Pollux, excitement filling her snout. “Did you hear that, Pollux!? You won’t have to hide anymore!”

    “^Already don’t have to,^” Solstice clarified. “^Just that, if we ever build that new passage, it’ll be a much safer path between us.^”

    “That’s—that’s awesome!” Pollux yelped, his voice much more emotional than earlier; his raw emotions leaked through both it and a handful of tears. At least, before the rest of his usual facade came back, and with it a nitpick to be faux-disappointed in. “Awww man, does that mean I won’t be able to practice my disguises, then?”

    “Ain’t nobody stopping you from that if that’s what ya really want.”

    Ginger’s response wasn’t what the kit was expecting, but it was probably what he needed to hear. For a moment, further cheekiness flashed through his features, maw opening as if to tease them all again—before gradually closing and nodding instead. His internal conflict wasn’t missed on his best friend either, with Spark wasting no time before scooting up to him and nuzzling him along his snout. The intermittent grunts somewhat deflated the gesture, but had no chance of making it any less sweet.

    Speaking of sweet, downright saccharine things. “So! Heard someone might’ve had a hand or two in this whole mess getting dealt with, eh?”

    Sue’s face twisted in the exact halfway point between a smile and a cringe. On one hand, being appreciated was something her soul couldn’t get enough of, yearning to fill the bottomless pit inside her she’d only recently finally put up a caution sign next to. On the other, said appreciation grew exponentially more stressful to experience in proportion to the number of people dispensing it, and having an entire gaggle of children gushing about her... would not go too well. Of course, speaking up to discourage Ginger away from that exact scenario would only further draw others’ attention in—

    “^Quite a few people did, I’d say. Here’s to hoping such acts of bravery won’t be required again,^” Solstice cut in, before glancing at Sue. The younger Forest Guardian’s heart skipped a beat before relaxing at the heat being taken away from her. And then; it grew that bit warmer at the look her mentor gave her. Reassurance, a welcomed burst of confidence, but also care, warm and innocent. It felt nice to be cared for.

    Moonview’s Mayor’s diversion was about as subtle as a swing with a Wood Hammer to the cranium, but Ginger went along with it. Both because that was what the two lanky psychics clearly wanted, and because he sure didn’t feel all too capable of finding the words that would express the enormity of his gratitude. A cynical streak would’ve demanded that gratitude be itself scrutinized and burned, cut down as something that shouldn’t have even been there to begin with.

    A cynical streak that Ginger lacked. “Aye. If the worst comes to shove, you can count on us all to get over there to help however we can, too. Figure it’d be much easier for, say, Thorns to tell Root to swallow his words so hard they’d come out—”

    “Ginger~!” Poppy cut in, stopping herself from giggling at the graphic description out of pure willpower.

    “Oh c’mon, don’t tell me the lil’ ones haven’t heard plenty worse than that.”

    “Worse than—*ow*—what?” Spark asked, drawing the group’s attention to the cluster of kids they were supposedly being oh-so-concerned about.

    Pollux kept the flames of his barking laughter under control with deep breaths; Rainfall wrapped one of her feet around her beak to keep it shut. Others... largely just looked around and tilted their heads, the point of the discussion so far above their heads that it threatened to carve through the overhead clouds. Of the two slightly older children, Lilly was following the lil' fox’s lead, and Sue the bird’s—though covering her mouth was a slightly more discreet way of going about it than pinching her lips shut.

    “^You will know when you’re older, Sparkie.^”

    The fiery vixen groaned—first at being treated like a child again, then at the dull ache in her forepaws. “Pleeeeeease, I’m not a hatchling anymore!”

    “I don’t think your mom would like you saying these kinds of things, Spark,” Sue chimed in, hoping to soothe the girl’s disappointment. And while the specifics of her point might’ve been wholly, utterly inaccurate, the lil’ fox still bought in, deflating slightly. Only for Pollux to nudge her away from the rest of the group with his tail, before pressing the tip of his snout into her ear fur and whisper something that Solstice’s translation didn’t cover—

    “P-Pfffttt, hahahaha—but also ewwww!” Spark whined, the outburst of sounds and emotion sending her into a hiccup. “You made me imagine it...”

    Pollux refused to take any blame for something he had unilaterally chosen. “You wanted to know!”

    “But not like that!”

    As valiant as Poppy’s effort in keeping herself quiet had been, it couldn’t quite endure that. For how twinkly and high-pitched her laughter had been, it also carried surprisingly far, briefly catching the attention of everyone within earshot at how sudden it was. Lilly’s only grace was that much of her highest intensity giggles had peaked beyond the hearing range of many gathered.

    Not Sue, though, blessed with the sound she could only describe as a kettle going off, with its steam being piped into a dog whistle. She had a hard time imagining a cuter laugh than that, as much as it kinda hurt her ears. Capitalizing on the moment of distracting amusement, she struck her crush with a Peck on her cheek. The foul attack struck true, making Lilly’s warble as if it was played on a damaged record, before it slowed down into flustered mumbling. And, seconds later, returned in kind, with the Forest Guardian faring barely any better.

    Approximately four feet away from them, being constantly jerked around kinda cut into one particular lizard’s enjoyment of the scene. “Mind placin’ me down, Poppy?”

    The remark finally stopped the cook’s bellowing expression of amusement. “Awwwwwwh, haha, but I haven’t gotten enough of you yet! Do I have to?”

    “Would be appreciated, aye,” Ginger chuckled.

    With the utmost of her fairy-esque grace, Poppy carefully rotated her friend the right side up before slowly lowering him onto the grass, the touchdown quiet enough to not make a sound. “There ya go! Oh—Hazel, what’s up dear?”

    The sudden reappearance of the spooky prankster right behind her wife made Sue do a double take. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve guessed that the ghost had popped right out of her partner’s shadow for how well she was hidden there. Regardless of how inaccurate that idea was though, Hazel didn’t look like she was up for any laughs. Her concern almost undid her unnatural smile entirely as she led Poppy away from their group.

    She wasn’t the only one to use that opportunity to flake off. Pollux and Spark seemed to have had enough of interacting with the grownups, taking off into the tree line. Sue expected the other kids to follow them soon after, but to her surprise, none of them did. Bluegrass remained where he was, if at substantially more ease than before—not that it was very possible for him to be any more uncomfortable than he was earlier. Rainfall had hopped to a closer branch, eying out Sue’s side. With her curiosity about the crutch the last time Sue had spoken with her, she figured a reprise of that was in order, but it wasn’t happening quite yet.

    Howl was just kinda confused at all the action going on around him—enough so to miss his older canine friends running away. But this tall plant person seemed nice, and her yellow paw-things were pleasant to rest on. Lilly didn’t mind one bit, but that couldn’t be said of the lil’ gray pup once his impromptu relaxing spot started to wiggle underneath him in tune with a whistled melody. He scrambled back to all fours, yawned—revealing a maw-ful of teeth that somehow was even more intimidating than Joy’s—and looked around. “Huh? Where they?”

    “There ran!” Lilly helpfully answered, pointing into the treeline.

    The wolf pup let out a low, drawn-out, disappointed growl. “Not go trees alone.”

    The dancer knew just what to do. “Come with me, you!” she exclaimed, springing onto her feet, before leading the lil’ quadruped after his playmates. Sue was of half a mind to chime in that Howl didn’t even respond with any affirmation to Lilly’s plan, but stayed quiet—Howl had already agreed in the only way that mattered, anyway. She felt colder with her crush gone, sure, but she felt much better about it than she would’ve just a few hours ago.

    Having Solstice there to shine a just-as-radiant, if slightly different, warmth on her with her presence helped, too. A whole ton, even.

    Using the lull in the chatter, Sue glanced up at her mentor—a term that felt increasingly insufficient but which she didn’t know what to replace it with—and received a beaming smile in return. It was a satisfied, calm, cheerful smile. But, above all else, it was proud, and it was that trait that made Sue’s heart swell once she’d noticed it.

    She’s proud of me.

    So that’s how it feels.


    Before the conversation could restart on any new topic, though, someone else decided to join in on it first. Someone Sue recognized much less than Solstice, but both had a hunch the exchange that would follow wouldn’t be particularly... pleasant.

    “Wouldn’t have thought you’d ever step a foot in here again, Solstice,” the segmented purple scorpion growled. Her voice was harsh, but whether that was the inherent quality of her voice or just the tone she was using, Sue couldn’t quite tell.

    The Mayor closed her eyes and nodded solemnly, before looking back at the night kin. “^Could have very well happened, indeed. But thankfully, it didn’t, Thorns.^”

    “Good.”

    The air between Thorns and Solstice remained tense, enough so for Ginger to pick up his loose skin and pivot on his paw away from the conversation—and especially from being right in between the two women. The older Forest Guardian was on edge, but thankfully not afraid. This might not be pretty, but it shouldn’t be miserable. “^Indeed.^”

    Thorns narrowed her eyes. “What took you so long?” she asked, accentuating her words with the clacks of her pincers. Between her appearance, her gestures, and especially her attitude, Sue couldn’t help but shimmy along her seat a bit, away from the scorpion.

    Her words might not have much benefit of the doubt in them, but they deserved to be answered, regardless. “^In all honesty? Bad reasons,^” Solstice sighed.

    “That much was obvious.”

    Solstice’s hand clenched for just an instant before gradually relaxing to the tune of a drawn-out sigh. “^I suppose. Guilt and moping, that entire nonsense.^” She lingered on that point, gathering her thoughts before noticing the scorpion’s maw open to speak—and continuing. “^I know you never cared much for any of it, Thorns. It’s no excuse, after all. I thought I was better than it too, once.^”

    For once, the Mayor’s words weren’t immediately reacted to with snark. Thorns’s eyes were still narrowed—or looked narrowed at least—but she seemed willing to let her interlocutor finish her point at least.

    “^Ultimately, what I thought I was doesn’t really matter, either. I’m sorry... for everything, Thorns, and that this took so long.^”

    Each loud click of her pincers sent a tiny jolt through Sue, no matter how rhythmic they were. The voice that followed lacked some of the edge from earlier, but was still at best unpleasant for human standards. “What happened, happened. I care little for apologies.” Her focus trailed off, gaze shifting towards the assorted groups of Moonview citizens standing around Newmoon’s entrance—before snapping back to Solstice. “Apply what you learned going forward, Solstice. For the sake of all of us.”

    Not a lesson the older Forest Guardian needed, but one she supposed she deserved—

    “And you, younger one,” Thorns continued, making Sue jump in her seat as her shaking eyes met the scorpion’s. “Become more worldly. Being startled by everything does not come off well.”

    As much as being called out had—indeed—startled Sue, the ‘lesson’ that followed swiftly burned much of that momentary fear into annoyance. Both at the scorpion being right, and at her being so forceful about it. She mumbled under her breath, “Neither is being overtly blunt like this.”

    Any fears about the scorpion reacting poorly to being hit with her own attempted lesson soon evaporated at the brief, hoarse... roar-like approximation of laughter that left Thorns at her words. “Ha! Oh, that I know well. I do not care, Guardian. Someone has to say what everyone thinks. Life of an honest person is a lonely one.”

    Something tells me that between ‘being honest’ and ‘being an ass about it’, one of those contributes much more to said loneliness than the other.

    Off in the corner of Sue’s vision, the corner of Solstice’s mouth crept upward for just a moment before faltering again. The younger Forest Guardian didn’t notice, though, summarizing her thoughts with a simple “Right.” Whether it was meant to be approving, disapproving, mocking, or questioning, not even Sue herself was entirely sure of.

    Though, something told her that Thorns stuck to one of those interpretations more than the others. “Hmph,” she scoffed, about to snap back with something else—before catching Solstice’s expression, the Forest Guardian’s own eyes staring daggers into her. To some, it would’ve been a challenge. Hell, that ‘some’ even included Thorns most of the time. But not now; it wasn’t worth it to make a scene over something so trite. The scorpion limited herself to returning the glare before reorienting her body with the help of her arms and skittering further away—from the crowd and the freshly delivered cargo alike. For a moment, Sue regretted responding that way, because... well, Thorns did have a point.

    But, then again, there were ways of being honest without trying to be downright combative about it. Duck knew Sue herself wasn’t always capable of making use of them when she was already heated, but that was on her. Whenever she got peeved enough for the figurative gloves to come off and for her to be ‘forced’ to dispense some harsh ‘truths’ on people, nothing good tended to happen afterwards. And even in hindsight, what she said during times like that was rarely incorrect, but was often phrased in such a way as to be more hurtful than helpful.

    Yeah, that was it, probably.

    Maybe the difference between being ‘honest’ and the kind of ‘brutal honesty’ that was just an excuse to be an asshole was just the attitude. The latter was certainly appropriate in places, but any ‘friends’ it might’ve made you tended to be the kinds of people best avoided—especially since said friends were never the actual targets of said ‘honesty’, just spectators salivating over the free popcorn. The people that would inevitably also have many, many things for any ‘brutally honest’ people to be critical about. And if said honest person did indeed speak out about them, their friends were guaranteed to flake. Not like many of them did, though. Much easier to insult people under the guise of honesty if they aren’t showering you with praise about it.

    Sue wasn’t sure if she would’ve respected them if they truly applied their honesty equally, but at the very least she would’ve loathed them less. Because, in the end, ‘brutal honesty’ for its own sake was more often than not bullying wearing a terrible disguise. Honest, helpful advice could very well hurt like an absolute motherfucker, Sue knew that perfectly well, but it was the intent that mattered more than anything else. The difference between desiring to help people in the long term, even if it meant some emotional anguish at the moment, and simply desiring to hurt people.

    And there were many, many out there who simply liked to hurt other people. Mostly to sate their own egos, sometimes for even more twisted reasons. If not for being so harmful, Sue would’ve found them pathetic.

    ...

    She’d somehow got herself in a stray enough tangent to have overlooked Solstice having turned to watch her with increasingly less veiled amusement, leaving her bursting into a bright fluster once she came to and caught onto that. Said fluster was first strengthened by the older Forest Guardian’s laughter escaping containment, but then defused moments later by Solstice ruffling her hair and rubbing her along the topmost spike on the side of her face. The latter felt weird to her human brain—almost ticklish, but not really. More so the opposite of ticklish, soothing the surrounding sensations and calming Sue down.

    “^Apologies Sue, didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It was... interesting, trying to keep up with your train of thought, though.^”

    Sue chuckled nervously. “Can imagine thinking of all that in terms of forums and chatrooms wasn’t the most... clear example. Sorry for getting too focused like that...”

    “^No, but it was interesting to decode!^” Solstice beamed. “^And as for getting focused—why would anything be wrong with that, Sue? Warped as my clan’s morals are, thoughtfulness is a virtue even there.^”

    “What about getting so distracted by a topic I forget there is a world around me?”

    The phrasing brought a smile back to Solstice’s expression. “^In all honesty—genuine honesty, not the ‘brutal’ kind? It’s quite adorable. Reminds me of when Comet focuses really hard on something and just stares there, transfixed. I lay out some cut berries for him to snack on when he’s focused like this and not looking. Wouldn’t mind doing the same for you as well, ha!^”

    Sue wasn’t sure which of these to be more flustered by, her weirdness being seen as endearing, or Solstice very explicitly suggesting showing her the same affection she showed her actual child. The latter eventually came out on top, but it was nothing if not a close matchup. Their combined force made the younger Forest Guardian briefly rival Spark in raw heat output, and even though most of her blush faded before long, the raw fondness that Solstice describing her gesture to Comet elicited... didn’t. Trying to distract herself from that failed, too. No two ways about it—Sue wanted that, more intensely than she remembered ever wanting such relatively minor things.

    And, for once, she found the strength to put it to words. “I-I’d really like that, yeah...”

    Solstice knew better than to respond to Sue’s whisper with words, be they spoken or telepathic. Instead, she walked up to the younger psychic’s seat, sat down beside her, and—still without saying a word—pulled her into a gentle side embrace, mindful of bumping their chest horns. Sue could only sit there, transfixed as her head was gently lowered onto her... onto Solstice’s shoulder, before the hair ruffling from before continued, if much more gently.

    “^I’d love to do that, then!^”

    Sue closed her eyes as Solstice’s emotions washed over her, so much clearer than earlier. Affection was there, no less bright despite being expected. So was pride, much the same as before, just as genuine. But also, a desire to protect. Not out of seeing her as less capable, not because of infantilizing her, but out of—out of...

    ...

    The once-human flinched at the affection, fighting an internal war as she stared the truth dead in the eye, and yet found it so incredibly hard to accept. Not even ‘hard’, it was easy to analyze the facts, but internalizing them was a whole other matter. Everything that it implied, wonderful and harrowing alike. It was hard. It was still, after everything she’d been through, after every tearful conversation she’d had with Sundance, so, so fucking hard.

    But, for once, possible.

    And, once Sue finally acknowledged that what she felt was Solstice’s love—however full of doubt and worry itself—she could examine her own emotions closer. To see, with all the clarity she deserved, just how similarly she felt in the other direction. Every single emotion involved was messy, confusing, tangled in self-conscious worries and fears and bracing for the possible, inevitable disapproval.

    And yet... Sue wanted them to become clearer. She wanted her doubts to fade away. She saw in which direction her heart was pointing, and even though the path ahead was full of more junk than her average college classmate’s dorm room, she wanted to push through. She wanted to nurture her own love in return. And she was doing just that, even if it was still much too hard to even try to put into words.

    If there was one advantage her current form had over her human one, though, it was that Solstice didn’t have to guess any of that. Instead, she only held Sue that bit closer, her own words putting up a challenge. The will was there, the desire was there; the heart was there—but not the words. Not yet.

    And so, a crude approximation had to suffice. “^I really hope today goes well for you, Sue. The Pale Lady knows you deserve that and so much more. Don’t hesitate to talk if you need anything.^” And then, after a few moments of gentle swaying to the sides, “^Even this. Especially this.^”

    Sue nodded wordlessly in return, savoring the peaceful bliss. With how Thorns had approached them just minutes earlier, a part of the younger Forest Guardian wanted to pry her eyes open again and scan the surrounding territory, to be on the lookout for any encroaching threats. Be they real, imaginary, or only of the rhetorical sort. For once, that impulse had weakened enough for Sue to forcibly suppress it. To not just sit there stiff, but to actively relax her body somewhat; to accept the safety Solstice offered her as more than just a gesture to be thankful for but not end up even considering using.

    Putting trust in people was hard. She often wondered if other people found it just as difficult as she did. Not because of any ill will or distrust towards others—nothing as malicious as that—but because of distrust towards... well, the world at large. Because of that creeping, omnipresent feeling that if they weren’t the ones with their hands on the wheel at all times, then they would inevitably catastrophically crash. To let anyone else as much as touch that wheel, however much Sue knew she could rationally trust them...

    That was even harder than coming to terms with her emotions.

    To say she succeeded at doing that with Solstice would be a generous interpretation. To put it lightly. She hadn’t truly let go of the wheel, but was, in that very moment, holding her hands tight on top of the Mayor’s hands as they gripped the handles. It almost didn’t make a difference at all. And yet, it was more of a leap than Sue recalled having ever since she realized how terrified she was of letting go of that wheel even for a second.

    Hardly the most triumphant sort of progress, but progress all the same. It wouldn’t end up lasting that long, either.

    Not because of anything Solstice or even she had done, but because, just like earlier, company was approaching. The familiar tension returned to Sue’s body as she pried her eyes open, squinting them as she eyed out the two approaching shapes. Now these two she was much, much more glad to see.

    “You doin’ alright, Sue?” Daystar asked, some of her usual joking tone replaced with veiled concern. Snowdrop beside her was much more overt on that latter front, worry plainly visible on her features. Sue wanted to answer, to explain the situation as... ugh. She had no idea how she could explain this, not in a way that wouldn’t leave her vulnerable to ridicule and Solstice to scorn. Words raced in her head, twisting into sentences that coiled up so tightly the internal stresses broke them apart moments later.

    Acting on the protection she was already giving Sue, Solstice picked up the slack, continuing to ruffle Sue’s hair. “^Yes Daystar, she’s doing well. We were just having a heart to heart.^”

    That’s... not a bad way of describing it, huh.

    Sue palpably felt Daystar’s raised eyebrow at the Mayor’s explanation, chiming in afterwards with an enthusiastic nod of her own. Good enough for the lanky farmer. “Aighty then! Your language any better, or still mumblin’ like you’ve never heard of the word ‘pitch’~?” she asked teasingly.

    Snowdrop lightly swatted her lover’s arm, getting a giggle out of her. “Daystar, sweetie!”

    The challenge might’ve been said in jest, but Sue wasn’t the one to back down. Well, actually, scratch that—she was exactly the person to back down, but in this specific case, she thought she had enough of a chance to at least try responding with something. She reached back, all the way back to what she remembered of her first language lesson with the gray once-hunter. It might’ve been just a few words, but her memory was never exemplary when it came to things she actually cared about, leaving her hoping to Duck, Night Father, or whichever other assortment of celestial godheads was watching, that she would recall the one word she was after.

    Miraculously, she did. She perked up, leaning away from Solstice and taking a deep breath—“~Kkkhhhhhhyyyỳỳỳỳỳỳỳỳỳy̌y̌y̌ýýýáááááá.~” If she remembered right, that should’ve been a ‘no’.

    To her immediate regret, her single... utterance response threw everyone else for a loop as they struggled to parse it. Daystar, predictably, cracked it first. “‘No’, eh? Yeah, that tracks.” It was only her saying it out loud—letting Sue confirm that the word indeed was something in the vein of “~Ky̌á~” like she recalled—that made the other two women realize that this drawn-out noise was supposed to be a word in their language.

    Solstice was simultaneously proud of Sue for trying and baffled that it was possible for anyone to get that word this badly.

    Daystar wasn’t done yet, though. “Ya should really pester someone to help ya with it. It’ll pay off and then some.”

    Hardly news to Sue. “Yeah, I—I know, Daystar, don’t worry. It’s just that the past... while has been quite hectic. I haven’t had the time to ask for language lessons.”

    “Hectic?” the vertically gifted weasel asked incredulously. “How so?”

    Where do I even begin.

    Less than an hour after they had their last lesson, Sue was assaulted by a deranged owl, then was carried back to Moonview and could only watch as a religious monument was accidentally destroyed. Then she had to keep a grip on herself to avoid her thoughts steering toward the nearest noose, lashed out at one child, and ended up finding another. Then there was the mishap with her hair, having to shout down a genocidal dickweasel, a therapy session, being confronted by yet another asshole deity, and—and then Solanum! And Nightbane! And another breakdown! And holy shit!

    Even beyond not having time for language lessons, the hectic-ness of the time Sue had been in Moonview made it hard to realize just how much had happened to her—and how much she had accomplished. The latter brought some warm confidence, but the former made her eyes go wide. She wasn’t just going through a lot, she’d been launched into this world with no warning before being welded onto a rollercoaster ride and given a dull hatchet to clear the foliage from it while she was riding it.

    In hindsight, Sue was baffled at how well she’d managed to hold herself together through it all. Maybe she really was more resilient than she gave herself credit for. Either way, thinking about that could wait for later.

    Because ultimately, there was exactly one way to put it all in words. “Where do I even begin...”



    If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

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    Also check out my other story, From the Vast!
     
    Chapter 37: Phantasm
  • redspah

    the gay agenda
    Pronouns
    she/her


    Chapter 37: Phantasm



    Even when abbreviated, the recollection of everything that had happened within just the past few days was enough to make Daystar’s eyes go wide.

    There was, of course, the sheer quantity of the events, the confrontations against the most rotten individuals Sue had the misfortune of encountering in this world. But perhaps even more impressive was the clear emotional impact it all had left on the Forest Guardian. Even the stuff she’d avoided digging into too much had obviously affected her. Taking in a little one as your own was already taxing enough—triply so in such uncertain times.

    The mentions of the ghostly child drew gasps and ‘aww’s from the rest of their little group, especially Snowdrop. Which then became gasps at the revelation that they were a ghost of sorts, and then fiercely held-in sobs as Sue described more of who they were. The icy performer’s partner took the news in with a bit more distance, but not even she could resist the sadness at finding out about Twinkle’s past. Especially with her own past having likely contributed to at least a few stories like that.

    Sue was uncertain what would Snowdrop’s reaction be to her bringing up Lilly, what with her having clearly tried to hit on her earlier. To her relief, it was nothing but positive. And incredibly amusing, but that was more so for Daystar. She snickered, “Wouldya look at that Snowy—who knows, maybe your attempts with them tied their fates together~?”

    The suggestion was clearly said in jest, but it burned Snowdrop’s cheeks no less intensely, melting the thin layer of frost built up on her face. “I—why—Daystar!” she accused, too flustered to continue.

    “Present~!” the weasel giggled back as she leaned in, arm wrapped tight around her girlfriend.

    Solstice’s attempts to subdue her amusement at the pair’s antics were going much better than Sue’s, that’s for sure. The latter’s soft, hiccupy laugh was enough to redirect the couple’s attention back onto herself. “Oh-uh, sorry—”

    “You have nothing to be sorry about, Sue!” Snowdrop reassured, yellow-blue eyes more lit up than the Forest Guardian had ever seen them before.

    And right beside her, the stretched weasel grew curious about one part of Sue’s recollection in particular. “Now I’m wonderin’ what kinda ‘argument’ ya got into when checking up on Sunny,” she remarked—before hiding her smirk at seeing the Forest Guardian’s eyes go wide at that. “You ain’t striking me as an argumentative type, is all—was it Willow? Figured they’d blurt out something nasty for the occasion...”

    Guess their beliefs aren’t a secret for anyone but myself...

    Hearing the pink healer be so offhandedly accused with something like that stung, especially when only the green and cream snake still curled up nearby was as much as taken aback at the idea. It stung to feel like a dumbass, like she was the exact last person to realize the character of the person who had likely saved her life—the character she was still so incredibly conflicted on. As was the healer themselves, to the best of her ability to piece together.

    Ultimately, whether there was something more to them like she hoped for or not, it didn’t matter—because they weren’t the culprit here. And the actual answer was, somehow, even more uncomfortable to talk about. She almost didn’t want to discuss the topic at all, especially not with Solstice within earshot. But, she also felt like she had to, specifically because Solstice was around. After all, if she got her undue affection and—and love earlier from her, got more goodness than she’d ever expected or deserved, wouldn’t it only be fair to her mentor to know the full extent of just who she was, for good or ill?

    It made all the sense in the world to her self-loathing, at least. Said emotion wasn’t missed out on others, either. Even beyond its intensity being almost physical for the older Forest Guardian, the couple they were talking to picked up on her faltering expression. Daystar had almost found it within herself to go against her teasing nature and nudge Sue away from pursuing the topic further—but she was just slightly too late. “It’s...” Sue began, her gaze sinking to the grassy dirt beneath her. “Northeast. I’m not sure if you’ve met her, Daystar—”

    “Haven’t had the pleasure yet~.”

    “—right. She’s a healer in training, I think. She and Orchid were looking after Sundance while she was out, and they were there when I checked up on her. She asked me about what had happened, which is fine, but then just kept prying into details I had no idea about and I just... snapped,” Sue shuddered. “Shouted at her and told her off, and I’ve been feeling awful about it since.”

    There we go, the ugly truth is out. Now she can hate—

    “^That sounds like a rough situation for everyone involved,^” Solstice gently commented as she wrapped her arm around Sue. There was concern in her voice in mind, clear as day—and so was the fact that said emotion was aimed primarily at her pupil. “^I can’t imagine you acting like that otherwise.^”

    “Yeah no kiddin’. Not sure what the big issue is though,” Daystar chuckled, “me and birdbrain used to shout at each other like that every other day and things were fine until she—*ow*—hey!”

    As nonchalant as the weasel was about the whole situation, her girlfriend was aware of the need for a more tactful response, interrupting her with a spray of fresh, Powdery Snow to the face. “What she meant to say was,” Snowdrop began, elbowing Daystar right as she was about to cut in again, “was that it’s hard to imagine someone so affectionate doing something like that without a good reason.”

    “I wish,” Sue mumbled in response. “It was just frustration, I think. Frustration and anger that built up until they had nowhere to go but out. That kind of thing happens a lot with me, *sigh*. The worst part is that I haven’t apologized yet; that’s what feels really awful about all this.”

    “When did this happen again?” Daystar asked, undeterred by her other half’s intervention.

    “A couple of days ago. I’ve run into her a few times since is the thing—”

    *Pfffffft*,” the weasel snorted, “I’ve held grudges for much dumber stuff for much longer and things always worked ou—HEY!” she cried out after taking a second, much larger dose of fresh, freezing snow to her face.

    Please be more tactful sweetie...” Snowdrop half whispered, half hissed in Daystar’s direction. It was just about the loudest whisper Sue had ever heard—only to be immediately dethroned in that category.

    She’s just overthinkin’ this badly, c’mon...

    Sue had no idea how seriously she ought to take the... ‘advice’ presented, but figured it at least deserved a chance. Especially since it did make her laugh at how blunt and direct it was, contrasting immensely with her earlier conversations about this exact issue with Daisy and Sundance. And the thing was—it wasn’t wrong, either. She was overthinking this by any logical metric. She absolutely wasn’t a stranger to much dumber arguments that lasted much longer before they inevitably resolved themselves nicely, and by the next week nobody involved had even remembered them. Said arguments taking place online as opposed to in person certainly had an impact, but if anything, it only made the reconciliation harder, not easier.

    Because, as she had a decent grasp on by now, telling Northeast off wasn’t really the issue here. It was born of insecurities long past, mental injuries that left no external scars yet turned gangrenous all the same. It all came down to how she worried she’d be perceived for it, especially compared to the person whose spot in Moonview she was inevitably sliding towards.

    The Mayor had an arm wrapped around her and was pulling her close, the turbulent mess inside her pupil’s head taking her aback. She froze for a second as the big picture came together and the extent of Sue’s panicking internal comparisons to Aurora finally hit her. Close and affectionate as she was earlier, it was still scary to see it being reflected back at her, to see plainly what her words would only let her express indirectly.

    To see just how afraid Sue was of disrespecting her daughter’s memory. Because that exact same fear gripped Solstice, too.

    She already had plans for it, to act on Sundance’s suggestion and make a conscious effort to let Aurora rest in her mind. To free her from being invoked as a tool of her own mother’s self-flagellation. It wouldn’t be easy, that much was clear—but to make any active effort in that direction would be more than she had done since that tragic day combined. Aurora deserved it. She deserved it. Sue deserved it, too.

    Just like she deserved to be reassured about this situation. “^Sue?^” Solstice whispered mentally, holding the younger psychic closer after feeling her subsequent shudder. “^I think I know why this situation brought and still brings you so much worry.^” Sue looked up at her from their impromptu side embrace, finding just barely enough courage within herself for her gaze to be more hopeful than afraid. “^Neither I nor Aurora would ever hold a situation like this against you, Sue. It’s an unfortunate mistake, but one that I know you can fix. I believe in you, and so would she.^”

    The direct reassurance rattled Sue’s shaky spirit, but there were still things unsaid—things that deserved to finally be said. “^I know you’ve been comparing yourself to her, using her memory as a cudgel to beat yourself over with. I—I know, because I’m no different. The guilt is still there, however well I manage it.^”

    Sue cut in, her whisper barely audible, “B-but you’ve been trying your best—”

    “^And so have you, Sue. I don’t doubt that even for a second. You’ve been trying so, so hard, and—and I’m proud of you, deeply proud.^”

    Despite having already felt that pride earlier, a direct admission like that brought on a whole new intensity to Sue’s emotions, many of them of the tearful variety. For once, for just a second, not even the full awareness of what she’d done to Northeast could knock her off balance, the brief glimpse of freedom from insecurity filling her with strength. As well as her tear ducts with moisture, but that she had plenty of experience in managing—

    “You two doin’ alright?” Daystar chimed in, eyebrow raised high after having spent the last few minutes watching the two psychics hold each other in almost total silence. Not that she minded one bit, but seeing tears creep into the picture made her decide to check in on them, just to be safe.

    Which was appreciated. “^Yes, yes, apologies Daystar. You could say it’s an emotionally charged topic for us two,^” Solstice explained, taking the attention away from her pupil.

    “Northeast?” Snowdrop sheepishly asked.

    It must look so weird on the outside when we’re psychically talking like this.

    The Mayor chuckled weakly, calming herself down while at it. “^No, not her specifically, though I do feel bad for her somewhat.^”

    Daystar’s eyebrow remained raised high. “What else, then?”

    Sue answered between deep breaths, each of them helping her regain composure. “Y-you could say just confronting our mistakes in general—”

    “Aye, don’t I know whatcha mean, heh—no Snowy, wait!” Daystar cut in yet again, before preempting her girlfriend from trying to shush her. Said girlfriend was giving her an unamused look, with a dimly growing snowball having materialized in one of her ear-hands when Sue wasn’t looking. For her own and the Forest Guardians’ sake, the stretched weasel had nothing snarky to say this time. If anything, it was the one area where she could empathize much more than usual, her expression growing much more genuine. “If there’s any lesson I’ve been tryin’ to learn ever since I left my old huntin’ grounds, it’s that no voice that constantly reminds you of your mistakes is your friend. Remember that, both of ya.”

    The impromptu lesson wasn’t expected, but both Sue and Solstice tried to take it to heart. Neither they nor Daystar were naïve enough to hope for it being ‘the’ trick to finally defeating their insecurities, but it didn’t have to be. It was just one tool of many, one voice of a chorus filling their heads. And they added up, especially for preventing any further emotional spirals.

    “Thank you,” Sue answered, meaning that fully.

    “Ya more than welcome, Sue~.” Daystar followed her words with a decently good approximation of a bow. She was about to continue before a loud, hissed growl filled the clearing, catching her attention. And only hers, it seemed, with the surrounding chatter barely noticing the sound. “What?” the weasel shouted back, with her intended recipient becoming obvious once the younger Forest Guardian executed the advanced maneuver of looking around her. And, once Ginger was finished shouting his response, Daystar continued, “Move it over to the orchard path! I’ll be there in a minute!”

    Watching Ginger and half the builder team lift the cartful of seeds before moving it to the specified spot sounded like an absolute riot. A riot which, to her unending horror, Sue and the rest of the group were then spared from. “A-an orchard?” a quiet, hissed voice spoke up from nearby.

    Bluegrass speaking up at all was an act of immense enthusiasm on his end, mighty enough to overcome the pressure of drawing the entire group’s attention to him. Which was exactly what happened less than a second later. His composure strained, but ultimately held, helped somewhat by Ingraining himself in the ground to not let him run away that easily. Not this time, not from someone who did what he did, but away from home. Something he was so, so curious about.

    Daystar, on her end, raised a single eyebrow. “Yup. We have a bunch of trees close to our clearing, and a few small plots of grain and vegetables elsewhere.”

    “I didn’t know you grew food here, too,” the snake sheepishly admitted.

    And I thought I used to be sheltered.

    Of the chuckles that went through the group afterwards, only Solstice had any luck containing hers. The tall weasel’s one was by far the loudest, but also the most clearly amused instead of mocking. That latter aspect was reserved for her eyeroll, stealthily obscured from Bluegrass’ point of view. “Can’t imagine not doing so, frankly, hah. ‘Course it’s not as easy as over in Moonview. Only Juniper has the ability to speed up the progress here, and even before she had her tantrum, she was much more eager to spend her days being angry at everyone and everythin’ rather than lift a wing and help us build somethin’ here.”

    Sue was not surprised in the slightest at that remark—and neither was Solstice. The same was also true for Bluegrass himself, but for an entirely different reason; one left unvocalized as he idly nodded at Daystar.

    She put the pieces together soon after. “Right—you’ve no clue who Juniper even is, eh?”

    “N-not at all!” the snake answered cheerfully.

    “^Probably for the best,^” the Mayor psychically mumbled.

    “Was about to say, you ain’t missing out on much, kiddo. But—about our paltry attempts at farming. It’s been quite rough going at times, especially in the winters. Thank the Night Father that Ginger knew how to preserve food. If not for him, then... bad things would’ve happened the first year after we got exiled,” Daystar shuddered. She then added, seeing the curiosity blooming on the snake’s snout, “The kind of things neither I want to talk about, nor you want to listen to, kiddo.”

    Bluegrass blinked. “But I—”

    “Nah. You really, really don’t,” the weasel reiterated, the long claws of her intact hand scraping against one another. The point of her comment—including her gesture—went squarely over the head of the lil’ cheerful farmhand, but she didn’t let that get to her. Because he sure didn’t, either.

    “O-okay. Where’d you find the seeds then?” the snake asked instead. Sue listened in, wondering if there was some secret technique to figuring out which plants were okay to eat in the wild—

    “All over the place, really. We foraged a bunch and planted the seeds, that much was trivial. Beyond that, Ginger and Jasper had a good grasp on what’s edible out here, saved our hides a bunch of times.”

    The secret technique: ask a guy that knows.

    “Thankfully, not a concern anymore—especially with all the seeds you all brought here,” Daystar chuckled. “Our few plots are gonna have more food than they know what to do with.”

    “Wh-why not expand your farm, then?” Bluegrass shyly suggested.

    The weasel shot him a raised eyebrow, but the question was worth answering. “Why would we? We’ve got enough as is, plus every plant more we grow is another plant someone has to look after. I’m doing my best, as are all of us; don’t doubt that one bit, but I only got so much in me. I suppose having this help will let us stop foraging altogether now—at least for a while.”

    Her first objection got the snake thinking—and arriving nowhere. “Oh. Mr. Root is always talking about expanding our farms and the rest of Moonview. I assumed that was just the obvious thing to do...”

    Most of the gathered adults were incapable of coming up with a response that wouldn’t involve some untoward vocabulary, expressing their distaste for the priest with a frown. Snowdrop wasn’t burdened with a filthy mouth, however, letting her respond with only slightly strained voice, “He certainly talks about a lot of things with unfounded confidence...”

    “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Daystar blatantly lied. “Best not listen to him, kiddo. Our farm could maybe stand to be a touch larger, but we’ll figure it out.”

    “Could I help?” Bluegrass suggested immediately, arousing profound confusion.

    “How would you help without living here?” the icy performer calmly asked, first to break through the awkward silence that followed.

    As timid as her words were, the hole they punched in the farmhand’s enthusiasm deflated him fast. “I—I could try coming over! B-but it is pretty far, I... aww.”

    “^Your enthusiasm is appreciated, Bluegrass, but I don’t doubt Newmoon can figure this one out themselves,^” Solstice chimed in, lifting his spirits up, and getting a satisfied nod from Daystar.

    Still, the boy wanted to help however he could, even if it wasn’t through direct, physical assistance. “I remember Mr. Equinox suggested offerings to farming deities in the past. Maybe you can try that?”

    The comment grew a different reaction from everyone gathered, though most of them stemmed from the central emotion of confusion. “...farming deities?” Sue shyly asked, curious more than everything—before noticing the slight unease in her mentor’s mind.

    Said unease wasted little time before turning into words. “^I... haven’t heard of that before, admittedly,^” Solstice awkwardly commented.

    “Mr. Equinox doesn’t talk about it anymore because Mr. Root gets angry when he does!” Bluegrass cheerfully added.

    Yep, that explains it, thought everyone.

    “I’m not particularly surprised at that,” Snowdrop put words to their collective thoughts.

    “Oh, that gives me an idea for an offering alright,” Daystar sneered. “Make a puppet of Root and set it on fire; let that be a tribute to whoever’s watching. Especially the Ever-Blooming, won’t ever hurt to have that one look more kindly on us.”

    Annoyingly for Sue, the name didn’t immediately correspond to any divine presence she’d seen or heard of before in this world. A question sprung to her mind, already building up in her throat, before nearby cawed words cut in first. “Oooo, we could make that!” they excitedly chirped, just as Sue finished looking over her shoulder. Yep, the crow—Rainfall—was still there, still watching.

    Godspeed, brave bird.

    She wasn’t the only one in that regard, but the other surprised soul was unsure of what to say. Solstice felt like she should’ve nipped that entire idea in the bud for being a decent bit over the line. Yes, Root was a horrible person whose actions had influenced the tragedy the two villages were just beginning to heal from, he had bigoted—or sometimes even genocidal—ambitions, and his thoughts aimed towards her were always sleazy, when they weren’t outright seething. What was she thinking again?

    “I’ll be the damn last person to stop ya, Rainy,” Daystar chuckled dryly. It was all the encouragement the night kin bird needed, taking off towards where the freshly brought supplies were being stored and sorted. Bluegrass was confused about the change in topic, and more than a bit uncomfortable at the idea of puppets of anyone alive being set on fire. But he was also very, very curious now, eagerly following Rainfall.

    And then there were four, the thinning of the group represented by a comforting moment of silence. At least, external silence. The mention of deities earlier remained a topic Sue wanted to latch onto. Both to satisfy her momentary curiosity, and to let her pry into a topic she hadn’t had many opportunities to ask about before. At least, not without revealing more of her hand than she was comfortable with. She stretched her legs, walking just a couple steps further away from Solstice to avoid getting her thoughts glimpsed, and asked, “What was that farming deity you mentioned, Daystar?”

    “Ever-Blooming?” the weasel asked, uncertain at the source of Sue’s confusion. Once the Forest Guardian answered with a firm nod, she continued, “I mean, that’s one of the names I’ve heard thrown around when I still lived in Moonview? Admittedly, I never paid too much attention, I’m comfortable with just the Dark Lord in my heart, but the Ever-Blooming is supposed to be a grateful sort, and edible crops are said to be Its gifts to mortal creatures, given without any expectation of repayment, or even worship. It doesn’t sound half bad, now that I said all that out loud, huh.”

    There was exactly one candidate for who ‘Dark Lord’ might’ve been referencing, but it was still some impressively unfortunate wording. Or, well, at least it was to Sue’s ears. It probably didn’t carry anywhere near the same connotations in Moonview’s language. Sue hoped. That aside, Daystar’s explanation made sense, even if it wasn’t all that helpful. Something to pester Sundance about once Sue had the chance to.

    And now, she could ask about the entity she really wanted to know more about. “It really does, yeah. On that topic, do you know much about the deity called Justice?” Sue asked, switching the topic with the inconspicuous elegance of a garbage truck. To her relief, most of the gathered group had no reason to interpret the question as anything but innocent curiosity. And the one person who very much had said reason didn’t immediately act on it, choosing to give Sue a knowing, yet puzzled, look for the time being.

    Snowdrop spoke up first, dainty ear-hand brushing her purple... chin. “The name does ring a bell, but it certainly is a small, quiet one. I imagine Sundance would know leagues more than either of us.”

    “No kiddin’,” Daystar added. “It’s the ‘Judicious’ one, right? Odd one to bring up all of a sudden—got a grievance with Fate, Sue, eh?”

    You have no idea.

    Before Sue could verbally respond to the question, a loud, hissed call pierced the din of Newmoon’s clearing again, making Daystar roll her eyes as she spun on her heel towards its source. “Fine, I’m coming, I’m coming!” she shouted back. Unfortunate, but Sue doubted she would’ve gotten any more tidbits of useful information out of the weasel, even if she stayed for a few hours longer—

    “One last thing—hope ya take learning the language more seriously goin’ forward, Sue. Can’t always rely on psychics, after all,” the weasel reminded, shot her a wink, and headed out. The Forest Guardian appreciated the comment not being chiding in nature, but still couldn’t help but groan at the workload such a task would demand. Her fried, scattered neurons already had a hard time keeping themselves together after everything that had happened so far, and now she also had to focus on learning things she couldn’t immediately relegate to muscle memory? The injustice of it all.

    Then again, it would be more helpful than just about anything else she could work on here, except for maybe her psychics. If she ever managed to miraculously stumble upon a fresh treasure trove of this heavenly material known as ‘downtime’—and had any energy remaining by that point—she would consider practicing with someone. Beyond not excluding the night kin in her communication, talking would also be less draining on her psychics. Being able to communicate with people without going through that annoying spiel with her hands every time would sure be very appreciated..

    “I mean, I’ll try,” Sue mumbled to herself, Daystar long since gone. “Maybe Lilly could be my practice partner? That’d, heheh, that’d provide some motivation...” The bright blush that took over her face at the idea was unplanned for, but no less pleasant because of it.

    Solstice had her doubts about the leafy dancer being the best person to learn the language from. Though, she guessed that as long as they were still covering the basics, Lilly’s disability shouldn’t make learning that much harder for Sue.

    Snowdrop, however, was much more focused on how much Sue obviously enjoyed her idea. “Awww~” she cooed, flustering the younger Forest Guardian even more. While Sue tried not to burn to death in embarrassment, however, a realization hit her with the grace of a ton of bricks, reminding her about the icy performer having gone missing from Moonview before today. The much less amusing topic worked wonders in sobering her up, though finding the right words to ask Snowdrop remained tricky.

    No way but a direct question, Sue figured. “Actually, Snowdrop, I had a question for you.” Her sky-blue eyes went wide at that, what passed for warmth thawing the tips of her ice horns. Sue had to admit her imagination was... lively. Her... fantasy? fear? hunch? that Sue was about to ask her out was so vivid even the once-human could pick up on it. Thankfully—or alas—none of that. “A few people were worried that they haven’t seen you in a while. How come you were already here when we arrived?” Sue asked, trying to not make a big deal out of it. Regardless of her attempt, however, the topic was a big deal, and Snowdrop reacted appropriately, huddling closer and looking away in embarrassment.

    Sue cringed, wishing she had a life-sized ‘undo’ button on hand. She didn’t want to panic and make things worse, but wasn’t sure what else she could do to clear up the situation—

    “Ah, it’s...” Snowdrop began, gathering all the courage she had to look Sue in the eye. “After Juniper had done what—what she did, I had lost all hope that I could ever be together with Daystar. At least, if I were to stay in Moonview. Between doing so with nobody to keep me company, and living here in harsher conditions, but with her by my side... I knew what I preferred.”

    Her answer made all the sense in the world. It also brought on a sad, comforting smile from Sue, together with a desire to comfort her however she could. And, right beside these two, it rekindled some of the earlier pride she’d felt soon after she’d shouted Root down on that fateful evening, letting her feel its warmth for that bit longer. Even beside the obvious factor of having done a Good Deed, trademark and copyright, she had also helped people out in far more material and immediate ways. It felt nice. She wanted to feel like this.

    Just like she wanted to help Snowdrop, still clearly rattled by her question. “That’s very understandable,” Sue answered with a smile. “Wouldn’t ever dream of holding that against you. I remember how... doomed everything felt. D-do you want me to pass it on to anyone who asks in Moonview?” Her question got a soft, relieved smile in return from both the floating lady and the Forest Guardian behind her.

    The former even nodded firmly—before cutting herself off. “Actually, if—if things are okay now... I could tell them that myself! W-with Daystar! She’ll be able to come visit, r-right, Solstice!?” Snowdrop excitedly asked—and beamed after the affirmative answer moments later. “Eeeee... I-I’ve got so much to show her!”

    Her excitement was downright electric, but not even it could entirely cover up the anxiety that had caused her to run away days earlier. The heady mix of two feelings left her shaking as she floated in midair, in the superposition of relief and stress. Sue sure didn’t know any emotion algebra, let alone how to disentangle a state like that—but she had a decent idea of something that could help. It was awkward to think of, let alone suggest out loud, but she felt just bold enough to go for it, motivated to help her friend.

    “Care for a hug?”

    Sue didn’t have to ask twice. Snowdrop was predictably cold to the touch, but also nowhere near as much as Sue feared she would end up being. A part of her expected her to be so freezing she would hurt to the touch, or even leave her with frostbite—but no, she was just cold, be it pleasant or not. Just had to avoid any contact between the floating ice creature and her horns, though, as evidenced by the startled jump that went through her at the smallest brush. Ditto the other way around, but with Snowdrop’s horns—these were painfully cold.

    And yet, even despite that, Sue still felt warmer afterwards, her spirit bolstered at being able to help someone in such a direct and immediate way—

    *GASP!*

    The sound froze Sue and double-froze Snowdrop, their combined attention jumping towards its source. Lilly was there, staring at them in a state of shock so pure that even her normally hidden mouth was visibly open. The Forest Guardian’s mind wasted no time suggesting the worst possible outcomes of being seen with Snowdrop like that, anything from her crush feeling rejected or like she was cheating on her, to getting so angry she would—*squeak!*

    It was surprisingly hard to keep catastrophizing after having most of her air squeezed out of her lungs.

    “Snowdrop, there you!” Lilly triumphantly exclaimed, twirling in place on one heel as she lifted both Sue and Snowdrop in the air, holding them tight. The extra dose of vertigo on top of Sue’s already present overstimulation helped little, but the radiant joy that accompanied it had a powerful, and immediate, effect. “Much afraid, I, Equinox! Glad glad good you, I!”

    “I—yes, thank you Lilly!” Snowdrop giggled once her own mind caught up to what had just happened—and then to the state of the person who had embraced her first. “I-I don’t think Sue can breathe like this—” Before she could even finish her sentence, Lilly got the message, instantly letting go of both women and backing off half a step. Sue staggered backwards as she took a deep, heady inhale, shaking hands rubbing along a few particularly cold spots on her front.

    “Sorry Sue, I!” Lilly shouted apologetically, taking a couple of steps closer to see if her girlfriend was okay.

    Her worries weren’t missed on either Forest Guardian, but only the older one was in the state to talk at all. Solstice reassured her, “^Don’t worry Lilly, Sue’s just getting her bearings again, she wasn’t hurt.^”

    “Thank, thank...” the dancer mumbled in relief, scooting closer to Sue again and offering her support. Sue didn’t have to lean on her; she’d recovered enough by that point to stand again, only her head spun a bit. She sure as hell wasn’t about to refuse it, though—not in a million years.

    With the sudden moment defused, the only sound left to comment on the scene was Snowdrop’s amused, relieved giggles. Sue wasn’t rushing to say or do anything, not when she could take her sweet time leaning on her crush for as long as she wanted to, the two swaying in a moment of calm, silent bliss. The arm wrapped around Lilly’s shoulders reached up, shyly stroking her cheek. Much to her delight, no less, expressed in as gentle a wiggling as the farmhand could manage.

    The calm scene couldn’t last forever, though. For once, instead of any external influence disrupting the momentary bliss, the impulse came from the inside. Or, to be more specific, from the older Forest Guardian. She was looking at the nearby crowd when something—someone—caught her attention, sprinkling her thoughts with growing unease. Sue didn’t even have to look at who that was to guess their identity, with a quick glance confirming her hunch.

    Regardless of where he’d been earlier, Jasper was showing himself this time. He was shyly discussing something with the planty medic, Orchid, next to the gathered medical supplies. He was larger than Sue remembered, certainly the largest villager living in Newmoon, and he looked just as disheveled as Sue remembered him. Pitch black hair shifted one way and the other, disrupting his silhouette to the point of being difficult to look at. And yet, Solstice felt she had to. Sue felt she had to, too. Regardless of his weird gesture towards her the other day, she wanted to know more about him.

    I want to know more about Aurora’s dad.

    After a couple pats on Lilly’s arm, Sue straightened herself back out and took a deep breath. Without saying another word, she pushed through her doubt and approached Jasper. Her crush followed close behind, more out of curiosity and wanting to keep her company than anything.

    The night kin creature didn’t notice her at first, only getting clued into her presence there when Orchid turned to look at her. As monstrous as his face was, it wasn’t hard to see the shock written all over it at seeing her, making both him and Sue take half a step away from each other. It was only at that point that Sue realized the in-hindsight-obvious issue of translation she was about to run into, mentally kicking herself over it.

    At least, before Orchid spoke up—and Sue understood her words. “Greetings Sue, Lilly, darlings, pleasure to see you both here. How has your leg been, Sue?”

    Sue blinked in confusion before the pieces fell together. She glanced over her shoulder, back at Solstice, and got a nervous wink in response. Still a wink, though, reassuring the younger Forest Guardian as she turned back to the medic. “It’s been healing well, thank you. Don’t know if you’ve seen her here, but—”

    “Ah yes, Snowdrop has been bonding close with her darling Daystar~. Not a pairing I would’ve guessed, but good for her, by the Pale Lady, good for her!” Orchid mused, sounding like she’d had anywhere from one to a dozen drinks beforehand. Sue didn’t disagree, of course, but her attention was firmly away from either that topic or the medic’s remarks about it.

    “Oh, pardon me, don’t think I’ve introduced her yet,” the medic continued, noticing the Forest Guardian’s attention shifting away from her. “Jasper, this is Sue.”

    “Don’t worry, we’ve met before,” Sue hurriedly added, getting the tiniest of surprised gasps out of the living bouquet. Jasper was about to say almost the exact same thing, and definitely appreciated someone freeing him from the burden of talking, at least this once.

    Oooooh, I see~,” Orchid enigmatically fibbed. “Well then, don’t let me hold you two up,” she then chuckled, before making her way away, leaving just the somewhat baffled pair and Lilly to chat among themselves.

    Now I really hope I don’t come off as the kind of girl to go after divorcees.

    Even with that awkward introduction over, Sue and Jasper could only anxiously look in the other’s direction for a while, the words refusing to come. The Forest Guardian had no idea what to say, now that she finally had a chance to talk with him, and the night kin... didn’t know how to phrase his part. The words spun inside his mind, the individual hairs around his head frizzling out in a mess of contradictory inputs and thoughts. Ultimately, the gist of what he wanted, no—needed to say was straightforward, and it was better to just go with it, perfect wording or not.

    “H-hello, Sue. I-it’s good to—to see you again,” Jasper stammered, his powerful growl of a voice betrayed by this uncertain, palpably worried tone. Sue was about to respond, but kept herself from speaking—he wasn’t done yet. He continued, “I-I must apologize a-about what had happened th-the other day, wh-when you woke up. I-it was uncouth of me, a-and I apologize f-for the discomfort th-that must’ve brought you.”

    Lilly shifted ever so slightly closer to her girlfriend at there being some kind of history between Jasper and Sue, but didn’t act or speak out otherwise. Sue herself appreciated the words greatly, glad to be able to finally bury that unfortunate incident. “It’s nice to—to meet you, Jasper. And it’s okay, promise,” she gave the most confident smile she could force out of herself.

    As much as she wanted to get over the incident, it was apparent that the furry night kin himself wasn’t. “No no, I-I really sh-shouldn’t have done that, it was j-just wrong, I-I don’t know wh-what came over me, I’m s-so sorry—”

    “It’s because I looked like Aurora, right?”​

    The words slipped out of Sue’s mouth almost subconsciously, bringing both of them to an utter standstill. She watched as he stared at her with eyes so wide his anatomy wouldn’t let them get any wider; maw left agape. Worry and regret filled her mind; a few tears coalesced within the corners of his eyes before finally bearing fruit that flowed down his green skin and sharp fangs. It was horror. It was misery.

    It was understanding, more than anything else. “Th-that’s true, yes...” Jasper finally admitted, growls so quiet they barely came out of his voice box. His posture shrank, fur curled up tighter, eyes desperately searched for anything to focus on except the Forest Guardian before him—

    “I understand,” Sue insisted, calm and empathetic. “I-I really do. I know what—what had happened, and I don’t want to hold something as small as that against you. And, besides,” she let out a mirthless chuckle, “you were hardly the only one that let my resemblance to Aurora do something you regretted.” The allusion wasn’t missed on the night kin, his gaze first furrowing in confusion, before jumping all the way over to Solstice, almost at the other end of the clearing. Sue wasn’t sure whether the two actually ended up locking eyes, but there certainly was understanding between them.

    “I-I see. That’s, that’s very understanding from you, S-Sue. I r-really appreciate it.”

    As strained as his voice still was, Sue’s explanation really did melt through much of that earlier, suffocating fear. He was still uneasy, but frankly, so was she—and the only way to help with that was to get to know each other some more. Though maybe while avoiding the topic of Aurora herself for the time being. “You’re welcome,” Sue smiled. “I’ve been curious about you for a while, admittedly.”

    Jasper chuckled embarrassedly, fur shifting towards a spot on the back of his head. “Oh, h-heh—there’s scarcely a-anything interesting about me. Just a-a humble wannabe healer. I-If anything, I’m q-quite curious about you now, Sue—if th-that’s alright a-and you’re okay with me asking—”

    “Of course! Go right ahead.” She meant it with every fiber of her being—until one of the said fibers reminded her that there were some questions she couldn’t answer in anything even resembling honesty.

    Such as, for example, the question that followed. “I’m a-admittedly surprised t-to see another Forest G-Guardian here. O-or rather, a Forest Guardian that wouldn’t want to turn me into a trophy,” he joked, draining whatever blood remained in Sue’s face. “N-now I’m curious. Where did you wind up here from?”

    Once she’d gotten past something as morbid as that being used as an off-the-cuff joke, the once-human dug into her memories for the excuse story Solstice gave her back when they first met. It already felt sketchy then, but now, in hindsight, it was downright laughable, leaving Sue to hope that Jasper wouldn’t want to dig into it too much. “I-it’s a long story, y’know. I was r-really really bad with psychics when I was little, and my people ended up tossing me out. But I survived, and now that I’ve met Solstice, I can finally learn how to control m-my psychics and all that.”

    He didn’t buy a word of that, did he.

    As meek and shy as he came off earlier, the doubtful look Jasper gave Sue after she’d delivered her answer chilled her to the core. He wasn’t aggressive about it or anything; it wasn’t hostility; it was just... he knew she wasn’t saying the truth. Of course he knew, her story was laughable at best. And yet, even though he could say with confidence that Sue wasn’t being honest with him, he couldn’t figure out why. She was obviously treating him like a person, she wasn’t even struggling with the same leftover unease from her upbringing as Solstice had when they first met. She couldn’t have been trying to hide something shameful like that.

    But if not that, then... what? Why else would she come up with this laughable story? Jasper was stumped, the kind of stumped that would normally have him do a quick prayer for guidance, but he figured it wasn’t necessary here. Both because the last thing he wanted to do was to cause a scene by making Sue’s lie a big deal, and because, to some extent, he didn’t want to know either. It must’ve been even worse than the obvious answer, clearly, and while he’d gotten better about handling the sight of blood, he only had so much endurance when listening to stories of atrocities.

    He put on a mock smile before trying to change the subject. “Th-that’s interesting. Either way—I h-hope you’ve been enjoying s-staying in Moonview!”

    Sue let out a breath she wasn’t even consciously aware she was holding. Partly out of relief at not being seen through, partly because of the squeeze Lilly pulled her into afterwards, not knowing nearly enough to doubt her fake backstory. Jasper’s words, even that relief aside, piqued her interest. She wouldn’t have ever expected to hear the town being spoken of in such a tone by anyone that had been exiled from it. “Y-yeah, I have! I—I haven’t been here for long, but I’m already quite fond of it,” Sue mused, only now realizing just how much she meant her words.

    Jasper was taken aback. “R-really? I-I mean—you only showed up r-recently? Of course I’m glad you’re enjoying s-staying there, p-probably with Solstice, b-but with how you showed up here a-a few days ago I—I’d assumed you’ve b-been living there for a good while and maybe only just learned o-of our history or something...”

    That was another hole in Sue’s story—and this time, it was one not even she had any conceivable answers for. She’d acknowledged earlier just how much of a rush she’d been through over the past week or so, but to have someone else pick up on it, and from so little information at that, was something else altogether. To some extent, it didn’t even feel like a chaotic, random Fate anymore—it was as if she was being hurriedly guided along to some preordained Destiny.

    Maybe. She could’ve been just losing it from the frenzy of it all. Either way, she really, really hoped nothing uniquely terrible would happen tomorrow, nothing ground shattering, nothing that left her shook to the core again. She needed some time to breathe. Good gods, did she need it.

    “Admittedly, it was a really spur-of-the-moment choice on my end, e-especially with that crutch, heh,” Sue chuckled dryly, hoping to undermine the blatant and confusing reality. “E-either way, I’m here now, and I’m definitely planning to stay for long!” Her confidence was about as solid as spoiled yogurt, but Jasper thankfully interpreted it as her being shy.

    He gave smiling his best shot and came up short. “I-I’m glad to hear! Th-thoughtful people l-like you make any place b-better.”

    Sue had almost mentally tripped over the compliment, cutting her off for a moment. Instead of trying to cram it into her unwilling mind, either now or later, she instead did the more appropriately avoidant move of side-stepping the words altogether, and pretending they weren’t there. After all, she still had a couple of questions. “Y-yeah. I-I’m quite curious, though—wouldn’t have guessed anyone here would talk about Moonview in such a... warm way after what had happened.”

    She was under no pretenses that this would be a serious, downright grim topic—and she was right. Jasper’s posture deflated, but thankfully, he maintained some composure this time. “I-I’m not blaming you. People here were, m-maybe some still are, quite a-angry, and I d-d-don’t blame them at all. I could n-never feel that, personally. It hurt, a-and even hurts now a bit still, b-but... it was still my h-home for the longest time. I-I hope it can be again.”

    It was a very heartfelt admission, and Sue was of half a mind to offer Jasper what she’d offered Snowdrop earlier. She decided against it, though. For as nice as it was, there were still some things unsaid there. “I hope so too,” Sue beamed. “I guess I just expected you to be... more angry at people that exiled you all.” Was that prejudiced to say? Sue really hoped it wasn’t prejudiced to say.

    Just like she hoped that the dry, pained chuckle she got in return wasn’t a harbinger of anything bad. “Th-the only person I’m a-angry at f-for all that is m-myself. If I hadn’t b-been a coward, if I had—hadn’t—I—” he tried to explain, only for his emotions to get an upper hand before he could even try to wrest them back under control. He clenched his eyes shut, one furry hand reaching up to shield his face. Even his sobs sounded like growls, and Lilly instinctively backed a half step away.

    But not Sue. She knew where the sight before her lead, just how many knock-on effects that crushing inward pain had. She wanted to do something, anything, about it. Even if she was unlikely to prevent something like what had happened to her specifically because of her dad, nobody deserved to bear such pain, such guilt—and especially not someone who was a victim in all of this.

    She wasn’t sure where the resolve that had filled her had come from, but she wasn’t about to hide it. Without flinching, she took a step forward, and grasped Jasper’s free hand with her own. His fur was thick and somewhat coarse, but surprisingly dry and clean to the touch, a far cry from its shiny look. The limb underneath all the fluff was thin and angular, the three-fingered hand underneath it eerily similar to her own.

    Jasper’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at her through parted fingers, stunned at being offered any touch in distress like this. The only thing more shocking than that were the words that followed, as confident as Sue was capable of in the heat of the moment. “It’s not your fault, Jasper. N-none of what happened is your fault. You did everything you could back then, that much I’m certain of.”

    He’d heard all that before, from many voices. His mind had gotten quite decent at filtering all that reassurance out over time, always finding one reason or another to undermine what the other person had actually said. In time, the conditions for such words to be actually accepted had narrowed down to where the only person he would conceivably listen to and internalize what they’d said was long since dead.

    Sue wasn’t Aurora. Of course she wasn’t, and thinking like that would only ever lead to terrible things happening. And yet, at that moment, when he looked at the unkempt, messed up Forest Guardian in front of her, he saw his daughter again. Just for a single blink, the briefest of glimpses of the future that could’ve been—and yet, it was enough to get through to him, to dent that barrier the scar on his soul had built around itself. He was unsure how to feel, left staring in shock as his racing heart calmed down, and the winding tension finally dissipated.

    All that he knew was that he was hurting less now. “Th-thank you, Sue,” he breathlessly responded, slowly prying his hand away from his face. “I mean it. I-I think it helped a lot.”

    The Forest Guardian smiled in return as the tension about having possibly made a terrible, terrible mistake by touching him drained from her body. The emotional whiplash was almost enough to make her head spin, but she held through it, pulling her hand away while drawing deep breaths. “You’re welcome, Jasper—I meant it.”

    “Oh, I-I—” he chuckled nervously, before straightening out, “—I cannot imagine doubting you did.”

    The seemingly deliberate stress placed on a completely random word stumped Sue like not much else did anymore. She wanted to ask if Jasper was okay, before hearing Lilly’s whistled giggling behind her, apparently brought on by his words. It made her turn that question inwards, asking herself if she was okay, or if she was losing it or having a stroke or something. It took a moment for the furry night kin to notice her mental unrest, and then three more to figure out the reason for it.

    He then, quite abruptly, facepalmed, fur slapping against fur with a loud *pomf*. “I-I should’ve realized S-Solstice is translating f-for you. W-well, it’s—it’s a pun. A terrible pun.”

    “Funny it, think I!” Lilly cut in with her sing-song voice while her girlfriend finally processed what Jasper had said.

    Heh.

    The night kin certainly appreciated her stepping in. “Th-thank you! Um—”

    The dancer took the cue to introduce herself. “Lilly I! Sue girlfriend I!”

    Sue’s mind had plenty of words to say about Lilly’s choice of terminology, ranging from the mental equivalent of angelic choirs to opening up a pit straight to the hell of her own anxiety right under her feet. Alas, it wouldn’t be allowed to act on either extreme reaction, or anything in between them. Not for the lack of desire to, but because of being cut off by a different sensation. Someone unnerved and afraid, approaching from right behind her—

    “S-Sue?” Spark whimpered, her voice exactly matching the mood her mind was sensing. The Forest Guardian and the leafy dancer turned around to face the fiery kit, and saw that they weren’t alone. Pollux and Thistle accompanied them, both of them equally uneasy—but especially the little psychic, swaying erratically from side to side under her ‘hat’.

    Something was wrong, that much was clear. “What’s wrong, Sparkie?” Sue asked and kneeled, offering the lil’ vixen a comforting hand, which she then gladly took.

    “^My mom is feeling bad and hurting and—and I don’t know what to do...^” Thistle answered for her, pinprick eyes looking at Sue pleadingly.

    The Forest Guardian had no idea what she could even possibly say in response. She definitely wanted to help, but neither had the knowledge of how she could conceivably help the extremely emotion-sensitive, towering psychic, nor much desire to get close to her after having made a rather poor first impression. Especially when she was feeling unwell and was presumably on edge.

    Jasper wasn’t limited by either of those factors. “S-something wrong with Heather?” he asked, emboldened. The chorus of childish ‘uh-huh’s and nods was all the answer he needed, regaining composure now that he could help someone he considered a friend.

    “D-don’t worry,” he smiled as he approached, “she’s gonna be okay. Lead the way.”



    If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

    If you want to discuss the story, I've set up a Discord server for it! (and my other writings)

    Also check out my other story, From the Vast!
     
    Chapter 38: Moonshade
  • redspah

    the gay agenda
    Pronouns
    she/her


    Chapter 38: Moonshade



    Sue wasn’t sure if she should be here.

    The wannabe convoy of several children at various levels of concern was tailed by a pair of adults. Jasper’s confidence contrasted Sue’s lack thereof, especially without Lilly to provide constant reassurance. The Forest Guardian had asked her not to follow them for a reason—as emotional as she herself could get at times, the leafy dancer felt everything much more intensely. Not exactly the preferable quantity when interacting with Heather, especially if she already wasn’t feeling well.

    Then again, even if most of Sue’s feelings were subdued, they were still so much more intense than the mental silence emanating from the towering night kin beside her. With Thistle and Spark present, she would at least not be the sole source of emotional disturbance, but her better judgment couldn’t help but point out that she should’ve just stayed behind with Lilly. Repeatedly.

    Alas, too late for that now. Mostly because she had no idea how to get from where they already were back to the clearing, and getting lost in the nearby woods for the fourth time since she’d arrived here would be... suboptimal. Primarily for her sanity, followed by her continued structural integrity.

    Jasper spoke up as their group slowed down, the absence of any translation turning his voice utterly bestial. Grunts, snarls, growls; the sounds reminded Sue of sound effects for orcs or other ‘evil’ creatures in fantasy movies. Just some audio filler, normally coming in between the swishes of the heroic protagonist’s sword slashes as he carved down legions of nameless, monstrous mooks in his fight against whoever or whatever the big bad was.

    But, of course, they weren’t just sounds—they were words. Words that everyone beside her understood, and—judging by the response that came soon after—were supposed to be a question. Thistle slowed down but didn’t vocalize physically, leaving her side of the conversation even less understandable for Sue. If the circumstances had been any less tense, Sue would’ve chimed in to let Thistle know she hadn’t extended a link towards her, but it wasn’t necessary here. She was just along for the ride; the last thing she wanted was to interrupt the important things going on.

    Especially since her senses had plenty to feast on even without Thistle’s words—namely, how she walked. It was one thing to watch the hatted psychic support herself entirely on the braids on the back of her head; it was another altogether to watch her walk on them. Her ‘real’ body dangled limply underneath the brim of her hat with every step, tossed around in a way Sue wasn’t sure whether to describe as amusing or harrowing. Guess that depended on how much moving like that hurt her, and whether her spine went all the way into the hat or not.

    And whether she had a spine to begin with.

    The conversation between Thistle and Jasper didn’t last long, ending after just a couple of questions. Whatever was said, it straightened Jasper out even more, while Thistle ended up sticking closer to her friends and Sue, worry radiating from her like the world’s least helpful night light.

    Sue wanted to collapse underground at this thought of all things finally attracting Thistle’s attention, interrupting her mental murk with an instant of bafflement—followed by an embarrassed realization. “^Oh, sorry, Sue! Didn’t know you couldn’t understand us!^”

    Just don’t force me to make an entire circus of myself by having to explain what a night light is and I’ll be all good, Thistle.

    “It’s alright,” Sue answered, dragging the attention of the rest of the group towards herself. The kids scrambled just close enough to avoid getting inadvertently kicked, while Jasper gave her a brief, approving nod, upping his pace until he fronted the group. Sue’s role was clear now—child magnet, something she didn’t mind getting volunteered for over and over again. “Though I didn’t hear what you and Jasper talked about.”

    “^He just asked how my mom was feeling before this! And I didn’t really know. She was really nervous when everyone from Moonview showed up, but then kept being tense even after everyone relaxed, then I realized she’d gone somewhere, then we found her and she was feeling even worse and panicking, a-and then we ran back to you!^”

    Sue entirely understood the first part of Thistle’s recollection—she could barely imagine how stressful it was to stare down an entire approaching convoy of what could’ve been enemies—but everything afterwards sounded... worrisome. It made sense for Heather to take her leave with her sensitivity to emotions, but Sue also didn’t doubt one bit that she understood it was just a temporary visit. A cause for a headache, maybe annoyance at so many minds disturbing the silence, but not stress. Not panic, at least not any that Sue could imagine.

    ...

    Unless her panic wasn’t tied to the Moonview convoy to begin with. A very annoying strain of thought rushed to remind Sue that Heather was one of very few people that fully knew who and what she was. Not a reassuring realization, but also one Sue refused to give an inch to.

    Fact of the matter was that Heather didn’t care about her even with that knowledge, an approach the once-human preferred greatly to its opposite. There was no reason for that fact to play any more of a role now than it did when they’d first met, especially with Sue being just one of dozens upon dozens of guests slash intruders.

    Which left exactly zero leads. “That sounds strange. I really hope she’ll feel better soon,” Sue mused. Mostly out of empathy, but she couldn’t deny the desire to avoid being chewed out or snarked at again.

    “^Me too... w-we’re getting close, I can feel her already.^” Thistle shuddered as she spoke, her words slowing the entire group down to a calm walk. It took Sue a few moments more until she felt what the little psychic had sensed, but once she did, it was hard to look away.

    Heather stood in place in the middle of a small grove, shaking. Her long, blue arm was bent at a harsh angle, the three fingers on its end curled into a tight fist. High-pitched wheezes filled the air around her as the body hidden underneath the hat breathed heavily, trying its best to soothe the mental turmoil. Said turmoil wasn’t anything Sue had suspected it to be, nowhere close to the anger that would’ve made the most sense in her situation. She was terrified, the occasional jolts of her tall body making her look like she was having a nightmare, especially with her not acknowledging their group’s arrival right away.

    It was only after Jasper got within an arm’s reach of her did she finally perceptibly react, snapping her eyes open and scanning their group. She didn’t expect to see Sue here, making that clear with a narrowed gaze, but didn’t linger on her presence here for more than a couple of moments. Before Sue’s self-critical voice could celebrate at getting a one up on her, it was obliterated by an increasingly familiar distraction—the sensation of a psychic link being established, bold and sharp.

    “H-hello, Heather,” the hairy night kin broke the silence as he walked up closer. “Is it too loud? C-can I help?”

    To both his, Sue’s, and Thistle’s surprise, Heather lightly shook her upper half. “^It’s not—it’s not being too loud,^” she began. Her sharp, distant voice sounded profoundly exhausted. “^I-I cannot deal with this many people anymore. But, for the time being, I would not mind it getting quieter here.^”

    Jasper got the message loud and clear. He walked up behind Heather and stepped forward, as if for an embrace. His hands grasped the sides of her head, just below the brim. Sue took a step back in surprise as she watched the fur around his hands unfurl, the long black hairs spreading to cover as much of Heather as possible. The thin arms underneath all the hair really were quite similar to the Forest Guardian ones, fulfilling Sue’s earlier hunch.

    Said hunch wasn’t what mattered right now, though. Sue’s attention was entirely on the other psychic as Jasper’s intervention brought immediate relief. It was limited, unfortunately, and the murky feelings inside Heather’s ironclad mind were still there, but she could at least breathe slightly easier now. About as much as she could reasonably ask for on a short notice. “^Thank you, Jasper,^” Heather muttered as she breathed even deeper than before.

    Sue was glad to see her doing better, but also intrigued by what the other psychic had said. What did she mean by ‘dealing with this many people’? She didn’t remember Heather actually doing anything beyond posturing when they showed up. Could it have been something imperceptible? Was she interpreting this in the exact wrong way? Only one way to find out.

    “If you don’t mind me asking, Heather,” Sue stepped forward, Spark remaining glued to her leg, “What happened?”

    A sharp exhale was hardly the most friendly or encouraging of responses, but the emotions therein thankfully stayed out of the words that followed. “^Unpleasant memories.^” Heather’s tone was firm despite her clear weakness, as if trying to impose that the answer was exactly that and nothing more, and that no more prying would be permitted.

    And yet, Sue wanted to pry. “I’m sorry to hear. Is it because of this many people showing up—”

    She didn’t even need to finish her question to receive a very clear answer. A dull pain bit down on her head as Heather stared at her furiously, the message as clear as it could get. Sue audibly winced as she backed off, frightened, one hand shooting up to soothe the sudden headache. It reminded her of what Solstice’s relatives did, especially Nightbane, and just like there, she had exactly zero interest in pressing the topic any further.

    But this obviously wasn’t okay. Not there, not here. “^Mom!^” Thistle squeaked, cutting off Sue’s headache and sending an abrupt, painful flinch through Heather. The sheer intensity of her mother’s reaction stunned the little psychic for a while, but once she realized everything was still okay, she continued. “^Sue was just asking why you were feeling so bad! And I want to know, too! I’m scared for you...^”

    With the pain fizzling out, Sue watched the scene from a distance, not exactly eager to get close to the psychic tower again. She watched as Heather recoiled at her daughter’s words, expression narrowing as it struggled to hold on to whatever composure it could find. “^Nothing important, I promise,^” she answered, her tone simultaneously afraid and annoyed.

    Thistle wasn’t a fan of either of these—or of her questions being blatantly ignored. She gathered her own composure, approaching her mother as seriously as a creature built like her was physically capable of. “^But you’re so angry and scared and—and this isn’t how you normally act!^”

    No, it very much wasn’t, and that was something not even Heather herself could conceivably deny. Still, there had to have been better ways of dealing with it, and Thistle deserved her to put in the effort towards them. “^I know. I am sorry. It’s just a difficult, tense situation.^”

    “You know,” Jasper cut in, his monstrous growls once more reassembled into meek, gentle words, “I d-doubt that ignoring what’s hurting you will help any, Heather. I promise you that nobody here will mind. A-and if it’s something private, it can be just the two of—”

    “^I don’t want to hurt Thistle,^” a loud, strained whisper slithered into Sue’s and Jasper’s minds. Nobody else had reacted to it, especially not the younger psychic herself. As much as Sue was still reeling from earlier, and would rather not risk having a headache sicced on her again, she couldn’t help but immediately think of several problems with that reasoning. Just like Heather couldn’t help but hear them. “^I know it would hurt her, Sue. It is not her fault. It runs deeper than her or me; it is about our entire kin. I don’t want the truth about us to hurt her even more.^”

    “But it’s a truth she’ll have to face eventually, won’t she?” Jasper spoke out loud. For once, he was the recipient of Heather’s annoyance, as utterly ineffective as it was on a night kin. Absent of any context, his words immediately caught the kids’ attention—as intended.

    “Truth? What truth?” Pollux asked, tilting his head as he looked between the mother and daughter.

    “Is it—*ow*—about Thistle?” Spark added, her tone as worried as the constant aching would let it sound.

    “Were you lying to her before?” a cawing voice asked. Sue strained her neck with how suddenly it had to snap upwards, spotting Rainfall sitting on one of the higher branches. She had no idea whether the corvid had been here all along or if she’d just arrived, but she certainly couldn’t deny her being almost as good at stealth as Pollux and Alastor.

    That last addition made Heather twitch, the little Sue could make of her actual body’s expression revealing a small grimace where there was only cold neutrality before. A grimace that wanted—no, needed to defend itself from the situation it was in, from the overt and covert accusations levied against it. It searched for words, any words that could help—

    “^M-mom?^”

    —but in the end, it had to admit defeat. Maybe she could’ve conceivably swept it all under the rug if Jasper hadn’t spoken up, but it was too late now. A very underhanded tactic, only providing further fuel for her annoyance. She couldn’t deny its effectiveness, though. Nor that, at some point, she did want to open up about all this. Just not to Thistle. She deserved better than that, even if she didn’t know that yet.

    Alas, her hand had been forced to pass on the pain to a new generation. “^Fine then...^” Her mental voice was equal parts resigned and annoyed, a combination that made Sue second guess her every word up to that point. Not Jasper, though, the night kin stepping aside. “Good. However hard you try to hide it, it’s a truth that still affects you. And her too, by extension.”

    He then eyed out a nearby fallen tree, something Sue had overlooked in all the tension. She didn’t mind crossing the perilous distance of approximately thirty feet that separated the group from it, but Jasper had a better idea. He grasped the fallen tree by the largest branch, individual hairs wrapping themselves tight around it, before dragging it closer. All of it. The entire tree. Sue wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that neither the sight, nor the piercing loud rustling that accompanied it, even made her flinch anymore.

    Saying nothing more, Heather levitated off the ground and hovered towards the seat.

    Wonder how she’s gonna actually sit down like—oh. She folds in half. I see.

    The bend where Heather’s body sat down on the log was much further up than Sue expected it to be, in what would be mid-torso for a human. It certainly helped that Heather most definitely wasn’t a human, then. The little bipedal body at her center that was surrounded by all the hair was sitting as expected—it was just really, really short; the size disparity between it and her outward presentation was even more intense than Thistle’s. Much the same was true for the glare Sue’s way that followed—it sure was much more intense than any expression her daughter ever had!

    Thankfully, Heather’s annoyance didn’t last long, not with the lil’ hat climbing up onto the fallen log to hold her mom tight. Her braids and tiny arms alike wrapped around what was probably Heather’s torso, pinning the outer layer of hair against her body. Goofy as it looked, it was certainly heartfelt, Thistle’s warm affection undoing the other psychic’s tension one deep breath at a time. It helped a lot, but...

    Heather was still afraid, clearly so. She really didn’t want to talk about any of this. If not for the well-intentioned peer pressure, she would’ve just brushed it off and tried to rejoin everyone, regardless of whether she was ready for it. But ultimately, Jasper was right—as much as Heather would do everything in her power to ensure that what she’d have to describe would never happen to her daughter... it clearly affected them both, even if in different, indirect ways.

    “^Do you remember when I told you about how feared our kin is, Thistle?^”

    Heather’s words made her daughter flinch, stubby braids visibly shaking and turning unkempt as they held the older psychic close. “^Y-yes I do, mom. I still don’t like it...^” Thistle mumbled.

    Her mom nodded weakly, small body drawing the deepest breath it was capable of. “^I know. I do not like it either. But that is the reality of things, and I don’t think I can hide the full reason behind that from you any longer.^”

    Sue perked up at the realization that the little hatted psychic didn’t even know why her species was so supposedly disliked. Sadness stabbed her heart—at least for a few moments, before confusion replaced it. Because, now that she thought back, Thistle had given her a simple explanation for why her kin was supposedly so disliked. Them being ‘mean and aggressive’ in the wild was understandably fearsome, especially since one could’ve easily extended that description onto every predator species out there. Not that Sue could imagine how features this close to cotton candy in coloration could ever be aggressive to begin with.

    To her and Thistle’s dismay, however, the full answer was so much worse.

    “^Once we evolve for the second time,^” Heather began, gaze unfocused, “^it comes time to establish our territory.^” Thistle nodded, uncertain about her mom’s demeanor, but following so far. “^Except, that territory is not the same as with other kin. It is not as deliberate.^” Exactly nobody understood the difference the towering psychic was trying to convey, giving her a pause. “^Emotions are very loud, Thistle, aren’t they.^” she eventually muttered.

    Her daughter nodded weakly. “^Yeah, but I can live with it! It’s nice to feel when people are happy!^”

    Sue made a mental note about the comparison between sensing emotions and sound. It was interesting, because that wasn’t her experience at all. It was so much more... tactile with her, like a part of her was being pulled around, without anything for her ears to perceive. She was well aware of the idea that different lifeforms would perceive their environment differently, but she’d never experienced that difference for herself.

    Wild.

    Heather let the world’s weakest chuckle at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “^It is. But it is still very loud, even when it is the best kind of loud. If too many people are celebrating too intensely, you still want to back away, don’t you?^”

    “^Yes, but—^” Thistle tried to answer, before her mom continued.

    “^But imagine if that noise was ten times stronger still. Or a hundred. Or a thousand. Even a single person, even the gentlest joy, would turn deafening.^”

    Thistle’s eyes went wide as she was first cut off, and then forced to comprehend what her mom had described. She struggled to imagine—but she could do it, in all the detail that the rest of the surrounding group lacked any reference for. The mere idea made the little hat feel profoundly uneasy. Because at that point,

    “^Everyone else would hurt...^”​

    Heather let out a somber nod, leaving her head hanging low. “^Correct. And it is that impulse, that excruciating pain, that prompts our kin to establish territories. Not to fight against one another for wild berries, not to secure hunting grounds. It is all in pursuit of even a moment of silence, of relief from that constant pain. And, when our senses grow that sensitive, that relief only comes when not a single soul remains in sight.^”

    By then, Thistle had joined her mom in staring at nothing, her little expression dripping with fear. It was almost unimaginably terrifying, but what’s worse is that it made sense. The little hat could put herself in these wild psychics’ figurative shoes; she could imagine how existence like that would feel like. And, in a moment that made the puzzle finally come together with a disgusting, fleshy click,

    What she’d be willing to do in order to find her silence.

    “^Do you see it now, Thistle? That miserable, nightmarish existence? One where the woods around us are strewn with untouched, decomposing remains of everyone who dared to trespass, where the very trees and grasses wither and die? Where hundreds of other creatures are at best repelled from a place they once called home, and at worst slaughtered where they stand?^”

    The explicit, brutal imagery made the rest of the group feel weak to their stomachs. Sue fared better on account of knowing exactly how much pain and regret dripped from Heather’s every word, but the little ones around her didn’t have that privilege. Spark scooted behind her, followed by Pollux soon after, his usual confidence replaced with visible shock. Even Jasper wasn’t left unaffected, though his reaction was much more pensive and inward.

    Tears rolled freely down Thistle’s face, her imagination getting the worst of her. It showed her images of hell from both perspectives; someone in such intense pain they would kill to make it stop, and an innocent creature suddenly attacked by a maddened psychic, disarmed and disemboweled before it could even strike back. And yet, despite all that, it could always get worse; an obvious truth that her mind wasted no time reminding her. She slowly looked up at her mother beside her, breathless expression conveying a wordless, yet extremely clear question.

    “^No, Thistle, I did not do any of that myself.^”

    Five pairs of lungs gasped as they let out the most tense breath of their lives, while Heather only shook harder in her seat. Sue hadn’t forgotten Daystar’s words from the last time she’d visited Newmoon, her claim about many inhabitants of Moonview having had to kill for survival in the past. She would’ve been lying if she claimed that the idea didn’t leave her at least a little sick, but even then; murder for sustenance was still so much more understandable than murder for... silence. She had no idea what she’d think of Heather if she’d answered differently, letting her conscience appreciate at least this instant of mercy in this wild world.

    Heather wasn’t done with her response, though. “^But my mother did.^” The revelation captured everyone’s attention yet again, the crowd of children and big children dreading where the towering psychic would continue that thought. “^I grew up in such a ‘silent’ territory. It was immensely safe and equally crippling. You get used to the silence, start expecting it, requiring it. And so, the longer you live in silence like that, the lower your tolerance for when emotions and noise inevitably return to your life. And once you finally have to leave a territory like that, the safest and most natural place in the world for you, why wouldn’t you then try to recreate it by yourself?^”

    “^And that is why, more than anything, I looked the other way whenever you sneaked off into Moonview,^” she continued, making her daughter gasp at her ‘secret’ turning out to be about as well-hidden as she herself was in a forest environment. “^Whatever thoughts I have had and still have about Solstice and the rest of them, I was certain you would be safe there, while gaining tolerance to others’ emotions. Earlier, I asked you to imagine the noise being ten or a hundred times stronger—and because of your friends and ‘escapades’, that will not happen to you. Everything will grow louder once you evolve, but not to that level. You will be alright, Thistle. I promise.^”

    The little hat could barely contain her own emotions, her expression filled with a painful grimace at her mom’s words. Fear at a fate like that even being possible in the first place, shock at her mom condoning her visits to the other village, gratitude for her reasoning, unimaginable relief at the certainty that she wouldn’t have to hurt her friends—or anyone else—like her ancestors had. Love for her mom, for her efforts to make sure she ended up okay, despite everything she herself had gone through.

    And even with the source of that last emotion being just a couple of inches away, Heather couldn’t help but savor every moment of it, in all its overwhelming intensity.

    “^Thank you, mom...^” Thistle whispered, the mental message too weak to be picked up by anyone except her mom.

    It brought the tiniest smile to her face. “^You’re welcome, Thistle. I’m sorry you had to learn about all this.^”

    “^No, no, it’s—it’s okay, mom. I’m...^” Thistle searched for words, nothing quite fitting exactly. Because no, deep down she wasn’t glad to know all this, her selfish, self-preserving impulses didn’t want her to know something this existentially upsetting. But if not for that, she wouldn’t have known just how hard her mom had tried to spare her from her forbearer’s tragedies. She would have never understood why wildlings reacted to her the way they did. A painful lesson, but one she had to learn, eventually.

    And despite how intense it was, it still remained incomplete.

    Sue was conflicted on if she should even bring that up, with what they had already heard having clearly drained both psychics immensely. Sure, her conundrum wouldn’t have gotten an answer, but it didn’t need one. The important lesson had been taught. Everything else was a bonus at most.

    Including the actual reason our convoy showing up had scared her so much.

    It was a thought Thistle also had in the back of her head, but had given little focus to. At least, until she’d heard it from Sue. And then, in not too long, from Spark, too. As much as her mom had spilled her heart, she remained curious about her reaction from earlier, still worried about there being something she wasn’t being told ‘for her own good’.

    This time, though, Heather had no intention of obscuring anything. “^And as to why I reacted like I did earlier,^” she continued, Jasper giving her an approving nod, “^it ties to how territories I had described meet their downfall.^” It wasn’t hard to imagine how a territory like that would inevitably fall, either by the psychic maintaining it meeting their match and perishing, or by them deciding they’d rather keep running than fight whichever predators lived nearby. Neither of which mapped onto the current situation particularly well, though.

    Because nothing was ever that simple, not even death. “^A single attacker is unlikely to win, even if they’re a night kin. Our psychics may not be able to hurt them, but moonlight can. No—it is never a single attacker.^” Even though Heather had regained much of her composure by now, this topic threatened to undo all her progress. Her mental voice shook as she did something she almost never did—voluntarily reached into her memories, as opposed to them forcing themselves into her mind.

    “Heather, what happened?” Jasper asked calmly, concern clear in every growl and snarl.

    No point in running any more, no point in beating around the bush. The tall psychic nodded weakly with her entire upper body before focusing her pinprick gaze on her night kin friend. “^I was younger than Thistle when it happened, only mere weeks after my first evolution. I had little time left there. Mother made it clear I was to leave before the next full Moon, or she would make me. Then, one evening, right as I tried to fall asleep, I heard, felt... them. A chorus of whispers, right at the edge of my hearing. Individually much too quiet to perceive, but adding up into a presence much more fearsome than any deafening shriek of rage. I climbed out of our burrow, climbed on top of the hill we lived in, beside Mother.^”

    Heather trailed off, no mental words coming for an unnervingly long amount of time. Everyone wanted her to take her time, least of all Thistle, but it was clear this wasn’t just her gathering her thoughts. Jasper walked closer and took a seat beside Heather, furred hand grasping the balled up fist at the end of her blue tendril, slowly prying it apart. Prying her fears apart.

    “^There were dozens, hundreds of them...^” she whispered, as if only halfway here. “^Predator and prey and beast and bird, allied in a deeply unnatural truce, their wrath focused on us, and us only. I felt it from miles away, red hot and seething, long before we saw them. I was so scared, but... Mother was not. I looked up at her, hoping for reassurance, or an answer, or a plan of how we would escape. Something, a-anything!^” Heather’s raised voice felt as unnatural as it did distressed, making Jasper wrap his other arm around her for reassurance. She didn’t notice, lost in the past—just like earlier today.

    “^There was nothing in her eyes,^” she finally whimpered, mental words on the verge of tears. “^Nothing at all.^”

    Not letting herself stop, she pushed on. “^I teleported as far as I could and ran, did not stop until my body was so exhausted it began to come undone. I was on my own, cursed much like Mother had been at that age. I still wonder what would have happened to me if I had not run into Ginger all those years back, or if his kin had not let me stay in their territory. What atrocities I would have committed, how much blood I would have senselessly spilled. How many more generations I would have condemned to this cursed existence.^”

    The pang of pain that came from Thistle in the wake of her mom’s words took her aback. The little hat didn’t think of her existence as cursed; that sounded so weird! She was sensitive in one specific way, yes, but that was still only a part of who she was! Though, the more she thought about it, about how her life could’ve gone differently if her mom had followed her own mom’s footsteps... the more she understood. Understood how her mom could think of existence like that as cursed, not just shaped by their sensitivity, but single-handedly defined by it, condemned to violence or madness. It was terrifying.

    “^I-I don’t know,^” Thistle eventually whimpered, redoubling her affection. “^B-but you didn’t condemn me to anything, mom.^”

    “^I know, and I’m so happy because of that.^”

    Finally, the tension wrapped tight around Heather’s body began losing its grip, letting the tall psychic regain her usual appearance as she stood up from her seat—with her single limb holding her daughter close. Not the kind of affection Sue ever expected them to share, but no less utterly adorable because of that, forcing a wide smile out of her despite how messed up Heather’s recollection was.

    It was a relief everyone gathered was sorely lacking, most of all Heather herself. She hovered towards the rest of the group as she thought through what to do now, whether she should even go back like this. The earlier panic was gone, but that didn’t extend to Jasper’s original concern, namely that of all the visitors from Moonview being much too loud for her to mentally handle. Maybe she could’ve afforded to stay here for a while longer after all, give all the guests time to ~~get out~~ take their leave first. “^Would it be alright if I stayed here, Thistle? I promise I am feeling better now.^”

    Not an outcome the small hat wanted, but the last thing she wanted was her mom to suffer even more today. “^Awwwh. Okay...^”

    Pollux, however, didn’t see the logic right away. “But why, Mrs. Heather? Don’t you wanna greet everyone?”

    Even Sue’s piddly psychics heard the ‘No’ ringing out from Heather’s mind loud and clear, only letting her remain quiet by her sheer force of will. Everyone but her and Thistle would need an actual answer, though. Heather tried to stretch her language muscles, dressing her immediate, visceral response in words as gentle as she was capable of.

    “^No.^”

    “But whyyyyyyy?” Pollux insisted, his whine turning into the world’s shortest and cutest howl.

    For once, Heather wouldn’t even have to come up with an alternative answer to a question like that, the plain reality more than sufficient to justify her. “^Because there are too many people there, and staying around them all would be too painful.^” There it was, the bulletproof answer, not leaving anyone else any room to argue—

    “But didn’t you let Thistle go to Moonview so that she would get used to having many people around?” Rainfall pointed out, jumping from one branch to another until she was level with Heather’s blue hat. “If you let her go there so that she could get used to having people around, why not do it to yourself, too?”

    You couldn’t have waterboarded a question like that out of me.

    To Heather’s credit, her initial reaction was much too stunned to even come close to anger. That state of things didn’t last for long though; the muted expression on her face soured into an unamused stare. “^As a general principle, Rainfall, it is best to assume that people have thought their situation through, and if there’s something unsavory about it they’re putting up with, it’s for a good reason. As opposed to immediately trying to argue about it.^” Her words were pointed and her tone intense; two parts annoyance mixed with one part disbelief about her actions even being questioned like that in the first place, especially after everything she’d shared. Hopefully, a few sterner words would be enough to straighten her out, even through the means of intimidation.

    Success, even if at the cost of the bird slowly backing off from her with shaking, rapid nods, before taking off towards where they had all come from. Neither Sue, nor Spark, nor even Thistle were fans of that outcome. The former was much too skittish after drawing Heather’s ire earlier to commit to even a single thought; the fox was too preoccupied by her increasingly constant aching to think of what to say, and the latter wanted to cut her mom some slack. Which just left the two remaining night kin, a group that Heather was sure she wouldn’t get any more crass questions like that out of—

    “You can’t deny she had a point, though,” Jasper calmly, yet confidently, added. “It’s great that you’ve been nudging your daughter into growing more comfortable with there being more people around her, but why not extend that to yourself? Wouldn’t you want to visit Moonview again eventually, without having to stay in a mud burrow half an hour away?”

    To Heather’s infinite chagrin, it was much harder to dismiss Jasper’s point. Still, not impossible, and this was a topic she had thought about plenty in the past. “^It is—it is much too late for me to conceivably grow my tolerance anymore. I’m afraid that it won’t get substantially better than where it is, even if I committed all my energy into it.^”

    A perfectly reasonable answer; one the tall psychic even had reasons to suspect was accurate. Still, there was one teeny tiny issue with it, one Jasper had noticed as well. “And how do you know that, Heather? Have you tried?”

    There was nothing in the world Heather wanted more than to snap back with a “yes, obviously”. Alas, there was a critical obstacle in the way of that reaction—namely the fact that she hadn’t ever tried, not with the long-term determination a task like that would require. Her daughter had persevered and improved because of her sheer excitement and the allure of a place where she knew she ‘shouldn’t’ have been, but Heather herself had nothing that could fuel her anywhere near as effectively. Even if it had mellowed out over time, dismay and distaste still dominated her thoughts towards the denizens of Moonview, and she had grown immensely comfortable living in Newmoon, reaping almost all the benefits of her own territory without having to fight for it.

    How much that dismay and distaste were a genuine product of her friends’ exile, and how much it was a post-factum defense mechanism so that she wouldn’t feel bad because of what she’d lost, she didn’t know. But, the more she thought about it, the more she realized the ratio between these two emotions was nowhere near as skewed towards the former as she had thought and wanted it to be.

    It would’ve been very easy to lie, and Heather doubted either her daughter or Sue would’ve had enough grit to call her out on it... but there was no point. Jasper would know, by the mere virtue of their cohabitation. “^Nowhere near as intensely as Thistle, no,^” Heather eventually answered, trying to keep the saltiness out of her mental tone. Unsuccessfully.

    Jasper tried his hardest to keep the smug satisfaction away from his expression—also unsuccessfully. “Sounds like just the thing to try, then! Wh-who knows, maybe Thistle can teach you some tricks, haha.” The little hat perked up at the idea. She hadn’t ever considered the possibility of passing any knowledge back to her mom, as opposed to absorbing it from her.

    She liked the sound of that. “^Yeah! I-I think I could teach you a thing o-or two, and maybe we could go visit Spark at her home together!^” Thistle beamed from her mom’s embrace, her excitement positively infectious. Which was helped by the fact that, out of everyone still living in Moonview, her mom held Sundance in the highest regard. Only about knee-high, though, but still way ahead of everyone else. Could’ve been a fun excursion, barring the whole ‘trying to keep her brain from exploding at all the emotions’ part.

    Not today, though. Both because of the obvious reasons, and the slightly less obvious ones. “^I will consider it sometime, Thistle,^” Heather began, finally finding it within her to look her daughter in the eyes again. “^Probably not soon, though. Spark is not feeling anywhere near well enough for a visit like that.^”

    The little kit let out a quiet yelp at suddenly becoming the center of attention, only for that sound to be interrupted by another wince. She had gotten palpably worse during their little excursion, to where Sue didn’t hesitate picking her up into her arms the moment it became clear how much of a strain every step was putting on her. If not for Sundance having remained eerily calm earlier when witnessing her daughter’s symptoms, the Forest Guardian would’ve descended into an outright panic at seeing her in that state. Instead, she maintained her cool; green fingers brushed Spark’s extra warm fluff as the kit gave up any pretense of being opposed to her current position.

    High time to head back to Moonview.

    “^Indeed,^” Heather responded to Sue’s thought, barely any louder than the Forest Guardian’s inaudible sentence. “^Is everyone here okay with me teleporting us back?^”

    Sue’s sole experience with that facet of magic was overwhelming, but not at all painful—she had no objections. Spark was too knackered to care either, only letting out a quiet growl as she closed her eyes. Pollux nodded excitedly for a moment before forcibly suppressing his emotional display to something more calm. Jasper had no objections, and Thistle—“^Only if you promise to finally teach it to me tomorrow!^”

    The Forest Guardian bit down on her tongue to not laugh out loud at the little hat’s tactic. It was childish, sure, especially with Spark already feeling so rough... but it was also incredibly amusing to see Heather’s stoic expression be interrupted by a brief, accusatory look towards her daughter. One returned right after, with cheekiness dripping down Thistle’s pink cheeks. “^Fine, fine. I suppose I have been putting it off for long enough.^”

    Heather’s tone sounded as dejected as she could project, but it was a flimsy pretense that not even she could maintain for much longer, especially with her daughter redoubling her embrace. “^Thanks mom!^” Thistle beamed, her small body resting as close to her mom’s as possible.

    Sue’s adoration of the scene was interrupted by her, both psychics, and everything else in the radius of a few feet, becoming surrounded by an intense white sheen. Knowing how the rest of Heather’s act would play out didn’t make it any less interesting, though. Sue focused on her and then on the two night kin, wondering how this trick in particular could affect them too.

    She could’ve thought she heard an answer coming from Heather, but by then, everything was too loud for her to hear it.


    The few moments that followed were very familiar. A split second of absolute nothingness, of not just darkness but a total lack of any sensory input, followed by the weight of existing again slamming against her mind, knocking her off-balance. Her psychic senses perceived what must’ve been their equivalent of static, a sensation of something coarse and ill-defined brushing against her very soul, before growing weaker and weaker, until disappearing completely. Not painful, not even unpleasant exactly, just... hard to describe.

    The total opposite of the scene they had all found themselves in—not in Newmoon proper, but just outside it. They were right beside the road leading back to Moonview, and while it allowed them to head back home right away, there were several factors that would’ve made it ill-advised. Such as Sue’s leg already feeling rough after her walk towards Heather, and that distance being less than half of what still awaited her. Or her not trusting herself to avoid her soul’s call of getting lost at every opportunity.

    Among other, even more important reasons. “Thanks for getting us back here, Heather.” Sue turned towards the tall psychic, her eyes closed as she caught her breath. “Lemme just grab Lilly and we can start heading back to Moonview.”

    Heather didn’t respond, weakly nodding instead as she let go of Thistle instead. They were all still a few hundred feet away from the settlement proper, but even that seemed to be too much for her, making her levitate into the air before hovering away, her small body breathing as heavily as it was capable of. “^Take care, mom!^” Thistle shouted, hopeful but not concerned by the sight—it was about what she expected.

    Without any further ado, they got going again, catching a few double takes from bystanders as they stepped back into Moonview from the opposite side they left it from. Sue didn’t notice most of them, though, too preoccupied by spotting her favorite flower from the crowd—and there she was, listening in on a conversation between Ginger, Solstice, and—

    Kantaro!

    Sue wasn’t expecting the sight of the beetle to cheer her up as much as it did. She still didn’t know him that well, but between getting to hear his tale a few days back, and his valiant opposition to Root when the whole kerfuffle with Ginger happened, she was immensely relieved to see him doing okay, if still bandaged in spots around his exoskeleton. Her smile shone as wide as she could put on as she approached the group, with her mentor catching onto her approach and roping her into the conversation with a covert wink.

    Part of her wanted to let Lilly know of her presence right away, but the rest couldn’t resist getting to repay her for her little prank shortly before they first met. She carefully snuck up right behind her, barely containing a shit-eating grin even as the tip of her bandaged horn was mere inches away from her girlfriend’s back. And now, she waited until she’d noticed her~.

    “Can’t believe he got ya scorched like that,” Ginger mumbled, eying up Kantaro’s bandages. “Well—‘course I can, saw it myself, jus... even I thought he was less blatant than that, y’know?”

    The beetle let out a grinding sound that was probably meant to be a chuckle. “You were hardly alone in that assessment, Ginger. I had expected him to back down as well.”

    “^It’s been a while since I’ve seen him get that incensed,^” Solstice shuddered, the interaction destined to remain seared into her memory. “^Even if you cared little about that monument anymore, Kantaro, he did. Sometimes it felt like he was more obsessed with it and the other side one than Her actual shrine.^”

    The technicolor lizard let out a low, guttural sound before spitting off to the side, the subsequent hissing noise overshadowed by his words. “Ain’t too surprised ‘bout that, aye,” he grumbled, the tone of his voice mismatching what Sue could only perceive as a wide, toothy grin on his face. “The point was never to get his own stuff; it was always to fuck with ours.”

    The Forest Guardian sincerely wanted to disagree. “^I... don’t know. Maybe I’m giving him more benefit of the doubt than he deserves, but he wasn’t always like that,^” she mumbled, hand on her cheek as her wide, red eyes drilled into the packed soil.

    Exactly nobody else bought that assertion, Sue included.

    “Uh-huh,” Ginger began, projecting all the disbelieving snark onto these two syllables he was capable of. Even he, positive as he had tried to be, had his limits. “C’mon Solly. Out of all the folk out there to have earned that benefit, I’d say Root has looong since tossed whatever of it had remained. Ain’t no use giving grace to those that’ll only ever spit on it.”

    Solstice nodded weakly, sighing. “^Yes he has, but I’m talking about how he used to be. Though...^” she trailed off, before her expression flinched as she forcibly stilled her train of thought from booking it down a dark, well-traveled path. “^...nevermind. You’re right. Can’t let who he used to be dictate what I think of him now.^”

    “I may not have lived in Moonview for as long as you have, Solstice, but I’m not far off. I wouldn’t say that he has changed significantly from how he was when I first interacted with him,” Kantaro pointedly added, both men unsure about what the Forest Guardian was trying to get at. “I have. You most certainly have, for good or ill. Not him.”

    Sue could sense a pang of annoyance radiating off her mentor at that correction, both at Kantaro and at herself. He was right, though, and it was her that should’ve been more precise with her intent. “^Maybe not as much who he used to, but rather what I thought he was. I remember when I first arrived, with a head full of ideas. He was already much closer to what my family spewed than I was comfortable with, but he wasn’t as... constant with it? Ceaselessly aggressive? Restrained enough to not dispense slurs at every non-Psychic he interacted with? Easier to stomach in small doses, either way. And I think that changed how I perceived him, as more ‘respectable’ than my clan, if it makes any sense. I had mostly disabused myself from wanting any validation from them at that point; it’s what let me run away from them to begin with. I suppose you might say I saw them in him, but more tolerable. Someone I disagreed with, but which I could still hold in high regard and value the input of. Value much, much more than I should’ve, in hindsight...^”

    The framing made things click in place for the men, Lilly, and Sue alike. Kantaro summed it up. “You make it sound like an addiction, of sorts. Addiction to a poison you couldn’t get away from, despite your best attempts.”

    Or like an abuse victim gravitating to someone like their abusers.

    Sue’s stray thought pierced Solstice’s mind much more intensely than Kantaro’s words, making the older Forest Guardian flinch as she looked up at her pupil. “^Indeed.^”

    The very same reaction also drew Lilly’s attention to one particular someone standing right behind her. Her piercing gasp single-handedly crushed the dour atmosphere in the air as she repeated her favorite trick—picking up Sue into her arms, the lanky psychic weighing barely any more than air as far as she was concerned. “Sue! Thistle mom good?”

    The dancer was far from the only one who appreciated her intrusion, the uplifting interaction sorely appreciated. “Howdy again, Sue,” Ginger greeted, hissing with a laughing cadence at watching Lilly’s antics.

    “Hi Ginger!” Sue replied, trying to keep her balance in her crush’s embrace. “And yes, Lilly, Heather is doing better, thank goodness. B-but Spark isn’t, and I thought we could start heading back to Moonview.”

    Especially since almost everyone else had already gotten that idea, as a cursory glance around the village showed. There were just a few of carts left, and aside from the builder team chatting with Daystar and Thorns, Sue could only make out a handful of faces that didn’t live in Newmoon. A fashionably late time to leave, either way.

    “Awwh, and here I thought ya were gonna stay here forever, and I’d get a roommate,” Ginger cackled, the joke even getting a quiet chuckle from Solstice. “I think I’ll pass on another visit myself for now. Heard Daystar was eager to check Moonview out, though.”

    “Can make everyone, then!” Lilly cheered, eyeing out the cart she’d brought here earlier. “Us and Daystar and Solstice and everyone want!”

    “^Not me yet, Lilly,^” Solstice gently chided. “^There are still things we need to hash out first. I don’t think it’ll be terribly long, though.^”

    The dancer was undeterred. “Can wait! No rush—”

    Solstice shook her head. “^No, no, no need to—especially with Spark already so close. We—I’ll get back to Moonview safely, don’t worry.^”

    Sue wasn’t sure which unanswered question her mind wanted to latch onto first, the quickly discarded ‘we’ or the unspecified something that Spark was already ‘close to’. Either way, she didn’t have too much time to ponder on that before Lilly carried her away, yanking her out from underneath her thought process as if it had been a plate on her head, now falling to its doom.

    They didn’t have to ask around much to find everyone else that had wanted to tag long on a trip to Moonview. Thistle literally leaped at the opportunity, psychicing herself into the now-empty cart, much to Sue’s amusement. Pollux followed suit soon after, simultaneously excited at the opportunity to finally visit Moonview in the open, and worried for Spark. Daystar and Snowdrop were there too, though both of them were too proud to use the cart despite there being more than enough space for them both to fit.

    Snowdrop did let her girlfriend pick her up and carry her in her arms, though. Whether there was any point to that with her levitation, Sue had exactly no idea. It certainly looked adorable, and that’s what mattered.

    And last, but hardly least, was one particular green snake, slithering out from underneath a bundled up tarp at the front of the cart once it got going. Everyone was ready; it was time to depart for Moonview, that once-dangerous, once-loathsome town. Or, as some in the group referred to it,

    Home.​



    If you're confused about the species of the characters and want them spoiled, I've set up a page listing the species of all the featured characters in each chapter!

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