Chapter 21: Mr. Diary’s Noble Sacrifice
Dear Diary,
I’m alive. Surprisingly. Even met some new people. The moment felt… pivotal. I also nearly shot a girl.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been so pivotal. But, I really wanted to note that down, to write a bit now that things have calmed down, but…
Well, another issue is coming up. Let me ask you.
I wonder, what is it like to know you only have a couple pages left?
You never had many pages. Your previous owner had you before used some, I used dozens, and, uh…
I spilled water on you.
Sorry. That ruined some pages too.
But I don’t think I can keep writing in you. If nothing else, well, I’m about out of pages. I’m not sure what I’ll do with you. I don’t want to leave you, but at the same time, you are, well, extra weight.
I think Mama and, later, Sandy, wanted me to write to not think about things. That’s nice of them, but think is all I can really seem to do. That, and beg for help and wait for random chance to decide if we live or die.
Mama gets sick, Mama gets hurt, Mama nearly kills herself trying to get food for me, and the only thing I can do is sit here being useless and giving an occasional cup of water or soup. I think I hate being a child. Maybe in another, more carefree life, it’d be nice and fun, but I have just been able to do so, so little.
It frustrates me, makes me wanna claw and scream and tear but the only thing to claw and tear is, well, me.
I know we’re okay only because…something, listened. I don’t know what it did, but…ever since that storm, it’s been following me, “helping”. I’m not dumb. I know what stories there are…at least, in my old world. I wonder what debt I owe for its help.
I think it’s good. I can’t see why something nasty would help and there was…the other thing, in the dark. I still don’t know what that was, either. But it helped. But good doesn’t mean nice.
And, well, equivalent exchange, and all that.
Still. I guess I am just finishing my thoughts here, but wanted to say, as silly as it is, thank you. I know you’re not really a thinking thing, but, well, it’s been nice. And, well, I guess this it, then. Already used up a lot, and well, only a bit left now.
Goodbye, Mr. Diary, and thanks for listening.
I let my little charcoal pencil linger on the last page, trying to think of anything else to say, but…
I couldn’t.
“Finished writing, Gwen?” Sandy asked with a small ‘glow’ pulse from atop our stacked packs. Not for the first time, I wondered if the little pulse was like the equivalent of flapping her lips, or even necessary for her? It felt a bit silly to ask.
“I think so,” I said, glancing at the last page. There was still a little space, but I said everything I wanted to. With that, I got up and stretched. As I did so, I glanced at Mom and saw…
She was still resting. But she looked better. The black in her fingers had receded, the flush of her cheeks looked more normal, and, according to Sandy, she should be up soon.
“If you need to relieve yourself, it’s okay. I’ll be here keeping an eye on your Mom, and—”
“Sandy!” I huffed and stomped.
“I tease, but you do not need to hover.”
“I know, I just…” I glanced out at the door.
The old cat folk man stepped out a while ago, and with him went a reluctant Zenn after talking with Sandy for over an hour. There’d been some intense discussion within their group, not that I’d have understood a word given the distance they’d setup from the shack. I did see the girl, Zenn, keep pointing back at us, or to be more specific, me anytime I so much as poked my head out for a better look.
Ultimately, I was still not really sure who they were, why they were here, where they’re from, or what they were doing out here.
I facepalmed. I could just ask Sandy.
“Sandy, when you were talking earlier, did you find out what they’re doing here?”
Sandy’s eye focused on me once more and hummed for a long moment before answering. “Well, it’s a bit rough and I’m not 100% confident in my grasp of their language, but I think they’re hunters? Maybe travelers? Not sure, still working on that translation. This shack is apparently a known place here set as a seasonal rest spot some used, but apparently they rarely come this far south? Wasn’t sure why. Jonas — the man I mostly spoke with — Jonas said their last home was…not sure, frankly. The word he used is gibberish for me, but the surrounding context suggest they can’t go back which could mean anything from exile to tax evasion. Hopefully I can get a firmer grasp soon and will work on my lingual database overnight to see if I can’t smooth things out, although at this point more talking with them is the best way forward. Not like I have many materials to cross reference here.” With that, Sandy rolled her eye in her version of a shrug.
“I see…”
I guess they were a bit like us, then. No home to go back to. At least, I’m sure the fort was still there, but it wasn’t exactly a home, was it? Shelter, yes, but…
I couldn’t deny some further curiosity, but well it wasn’t as if I could figure out more now if Sandy didn’t know.
Still, it added more to their mystery and my own general conclusion that I didn’t know what to think about them.
Still, I figured we were safe, for now, even generous and willing to let us have the shack, but at the same time, it was different knowing that and dealing with the reality that there were… others, now.
The language issue was awkward, too. I couldn’t speak to them and they couldn’t speak to me. Unless you counted hissing at someone who poked their head in and looked a little too long at Mama earlier. Sandy could, kinda, but even she admitted her grasp was tenuous right now and she wanted to learn more before setting up a lesson plan. Still, she had gone ahead and taught me a few basic words since Jonas left, like ‘Hi, sorry I don’t speak your tongue, help’, and so on. That and latrine for reasons better left unsaid.
I sighed. I honestly did want to step out. I’d been cooped in here since, well, nearly shooting a little girl near my own age. I’m glad I was such a lousy shot.
I looked back to my journal and thought a bit more. I perked up as an idea hit. I grabbed the notebook and went out.
I promptly froze as dozen people in a camp not more than ten meters away looked at me curiously. Centered around a single rough looking wagon, there were supplies littered all around as they worked. Or were working, given they currently stared directly at me and made my tail poof up. A little girl — Zenn — hopped up excitedly and waved and took off running only for her…grandpa? Jonas to grab her by the shirt and hold her up, seemingly with routine practice. She pouted.
He spoke, loudly, “Byddwch yn gwrtais. Peidiwch â syllu.”
I don’t know what he said, but the rest of the group immediately resumed their work. I let out the breath I hadn’t known I’d held and felt my tail fur slowly stop puffing up.
They’d setup a firepit, a single…raggedy looking tent by their cart, and had what looked similar to the drying racks Mom and I had made for fish. Back on the island we could only ever catch a few at a time, but we’d never managed to get that many in the shallows near the island.
I blinked as a thought occurred to me.
Had the…the woma-no, the monster Mama fought, scared them off? Just thinking of it made me shiver, but it might explain Mama’s comments on how sparse the beaches seemed so much.
After a moment, I dismissed it. Probably too small. That’d be like me going after beetles. Although that did beg the question of what it had been eating? More mysteries with no way to find out.
I guess the island could’ve just been bad for lots of fish. But that didn’t feel right either. I didn’t see anything along the shores that felt spectacularly off. I guess the big monster could be involved, but I couldn’t imagine it being totally responsible.
I refocused on the new strangers and their work. Their racks were a bit different, made from scavenged branches.
While I watched, one man on a stump with a steel knife whittled away at a branch, shaping it before flipping the branch around to examine the other side. Satisfied, he hopped off with a tail flick and added it to the rack.
I stared a bit longer, thinking. Sandy had mentioned them being hunters, but if they weren’t getting fish, then —
The seal! Mom had gotten a seal from somewhere, so that’s what they must be doing!
I guess it made sense? If they were a traveling group leaving their home in the north, then they might need to resupply, and a lot of meat could be found on a seal.
Huh. Maybe the monster had been eating them? Even the small one I’d butchered… horribly, had a fair bit of blubber.
I looked around, noting the strangers who were likewise keeping an eye on me as they worked.
My original purpose in coming out here wasn’t exactly, uh, something I wanted to do with so many up, so I decided to sit around and enjoy the sun. Part of me felt trepidation at leaving Mama, but she was getting better, Sandy said so, and she looked so much better. Getting some air was okay and I wasn’t a bad daughter for wanting to stretch my legs, I know I wasn’t.
I read through my journal idly, claw tips flicking page by page as I relived my first days here. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something moving and stopped.
It was the girl, Zenn.
She was hiding in some grass that was too small for her. Her tail flicked and she crouched low, even if the grass honestly only came up to her knees.
Our eyes made contact.
She popped up with lightning speed and waved as if she hadn’t been sneaking up on me. Again
“Hi,” I said in her language. Céim…Illia? Something like that, according to Sandy.
“O Dduw, ti’n gallu siarad nawr! Mae gen i gymaint, rydw i eisiau gofyn. O ble wyt ti’n dod, ydy dy fam? Gobeithio dy fod ti’n iawn. Rydyn ni’n mynd i’r cysegr i’r de. Oedd rhaid i ti adael hefyd?!”
I stared, taken aback.
Slowly her ears folded back, and I realized they were notably big on her. Bigger than mine, certainly. Rather than fold across the top of her head, hers were more slanted on the sides, but folded all the same.
“Sorry. I don’t speak your tongue,” I said, carefully announcing in the way Sandy taught me.
The girl deflated a little bit and just stood there awkwardly. I waited for her to say something, or gesture, or do anything, but she just stood there.
Eventually, she laid down in the grass to…stare at the clouds. Okay.
I didn’t want to move from my nice spot, so I just resumed reading back through my journal one last time.
I’d gotten 2/3 through my hairs stood on end. I felt breath on my neck and spun around to see Zenn leaning on the stump, reading over my shoulder. I shrieked, hissed, jumped, and promptly fell over.
Her head popped up in my vision above.
“Wyt ti'n iawn?”
I didn’t know what that meant, but could guess, so nodded. And glared.
She was reading my journal!
I immediately felt stupid as if I don’t know her language and vice versa, she probably can’t read mine either.
She pointed at the journal with a curious look. I held it protectively behind me.
She pouted.
Then she mimed…writing? I think. She mimicked the way I had sat and moved an imaginary pencil.
Did she want to write? I had a charcoal pencil, and we could write on the stump, I guess.
I pulled it out and she just stared at me. I moved to it, and wrote my name down because why not, before handing it to her.
She stared.
And stared some more.
I waited, expecting her to start at any minute, but she didn’t.
Slowly, her ears folded and she looked at me with big, sad eyes.
I don’t think I understood her. At all.
I blinked further as I totally blanked on what was going on before the obvious realization hit my brain like a brick.
Zenn couldn’t read or write. At all.
That…
That was sad. It was one of the first things Mom taught me, and while I cheated a bit with my old life’s memories, I had a feeling she wouldn’t stand an illiterate daughter.
Oh gods even Zenn’s tail was drooping.
I couldn’t let this be, that was just too sad.
I went back to the stump. The wood was a bit on the pale side, so I was able to scribble my name. I showed her it, and said, “Gwen.”
I then wrote her name down, “Zenn”, and repeated it, before pointing at her and handing her the charcoal pencil.
She stared, and stared some more. She hesitantly tried to emulate the way I wrote, and it was… it was rough. I don’t think she understood the letters so much as she understood “this sequence of symbols means your name”. Also, it was abundantly obvious this was her first time doing this, but…
After a long while, she got her name loosely written on the stump in charcoal. It was rough, it was frankly ugly and not well written with wavering lines everywhere, but she turned to beam at me with a bright smile and slightly closed eyes.
I gave her a pat on the shoulder.
She responded by suddenly embracing me in a hug that…again knocked me over. She seemed perfectly fine with this, and then I realized I felt vibrations from her.
Oh gods she was purring.
I wiggled to get loose.
This made her tighten her hug more.
…
Oh gods I couldn’t escape she was too damn strong.
…
This is my life now.
Eventually, she left, saying something I didn’t understand. But she seemed cheerful as she trotted off to the old man. But that is how I spent my afternoon.
~~~~
Later that night, I stepped out of the shack long after the sun had gone down. Stars twinkled far above in now familiar constellations in a crisp, clear sky. It was cold, but not too bad and I was bundled up.
Better night vision or not, the strangers had still gone to bed after sundown. Probably just a lot of work to be done better in the light.
I scanned their camp just to be sure and saw one person was up. I froze, briefly, tail bristling before noticing it was the old man from earlier, Jonas. He made no approach or comment on my appearance, but simply nodded in my direction before looking back to the lingering fire he tended.
It was chilly out, but nowhere near as bad as it had been. I was kind of curious to approach him, but, well, language issues. I doubt I’d get anywhere.
I made my way around the shack, but departed from the path to the, er, latrine. I instead went for the rock in a close field I’d offered the seal heart on. I called it a rock, but it was more a small boulder. No sign of the heart remained, not even a little blood splatter, just like I’d last checked.
I’d meant to do this earlier, but well, my planning went awry and surprise struggle snuggles derailed anything I’d planned. But, this still had to be done.
I slowly pulled my little journal, now bound in a bit of twine. I didn’t raise my voice very loud to not alert anyone asleep, but I did want to speak, not just think.
It was time I said something to my Benefactor.
“Um. I know you’ve been helping. I wish I knew what to call you, but, um, I figured I’d offer my journal? I know it’s not worth much, but, um, it’s all I really have and can spare. I’m sure you watched everything, or…not? I really don’t understand this, but I am grateful, just I worry I’ve asked too much lately and, well, I don’t want bad things to happen, so I want to give this back. It’s a bit personal, but I remember hearing personal things can have value and I don’t know if that’s true or not because of um, it’s complicated, but I really liked this journal…”
I stopped rambling and set the journal down.
Nothing happened, but at some point the wind picked up, and I blinked as dust got in my eye. The moment my vision cleared, the journal was gone.
I blinked.
“Are…are you just waiting for me not to be looking before you take something? Or can you not take it while I’m looking?”
Silence and more wind answered me. I stayed a bit longer, but there was no further response, and I was getting cold.
I returned to the shack.
“Gwen! Look!” Sandy said excitedly.
But she hadn’t needed to. Mom was sitting up, groggy, but clearly aware and awake.
“Kitten?” she asked.
I may have done my best imitation tactical hug shaped missile and knocked her back onto the bedding.
“You’re back, Mama” I whispered.
“Of course, Kitten,” Mom said.
…
Whatever anyone said, I did not purr.
~~~~
After that, there was a… very, very long conversation, mostly between Sandy and Mom. I’d tried to help, but outside explaining how I cared for Mama, I couldn’t say much as it had all been Sandy.
I blinked, and once more wanted to facepalm. My benefactor helping us and the offerings! I opened my mouth as Sandy and Mom spoke and…
Pressure descended upon me. Pressure on my body, pressure in my head. Pressure like I’d been looking at math problems all night, pressure like I’d studied all day and night on nothing but coffee and candy bars to fuel me, pressure like I was deep underwater and had to go even deeper even as the endless water above crushed me yet my goal my destination my beginning and my end were all just a bit further down if I could just keep going —
P̷̢͛l̷̖̑ẻ̷͕ä̴̭s̷̗͐e̶̖̿.̴͔͂ ̸̘̓D̵̉͜o̶̪̕n̵̫͊'̶̟̿t̸̤́.̵̧͘
I slammed my mouth shut. The pressure faded, not gone but no longer intense, almost like I had something’s active attention now. The voice was… I didn’t know how to describe the voice. Already any features were fading even if something felt so familiar…
Yet I knew what it said, and that pure feeling…
Desperation and exhaustion.
In that moment, choices crystalized and two paths became clear for me: tell Mama and Sandy or keep quiet.
It was the right thing to do. They knew more, they were more familiar, and just more capable than me. I felt like I could speak, that it wasn’t stopping me, that I could open my mouth and spill, let them know everything.
Or I could trust…it.
My Benefactor. I had no idea why it didn’t want me to say more about it, about the offerings, if anything Sandy and Mama could help! But…
It asked. It didn’t force me, make me, blackmail me, or any other mean thing. I felt like, if it wanted to, it could have. It didn’t.
I felt its presence but nothing held my tongue but my own will.
I swallowed.
“Mama? I’m sleepy,” I said. It wasn’t even a lie.
“Oh, Kitten, it is pretty late, isn’t it? I think I’m going to talk with Sandy a while longer, but we’ll whisper, okay?”
“Kay,” I said, and went to lay down on my own bedding.
I closed my eyes, and whatever pressure had been there, whatever tiny amount had left, vanished with a trace of relief.
I didn’t know if that was the right decision. Or a smart one. It was probably dumb, but…
It asked. I don’t think it needed to.
The least I could do was offer a little faith in turn.
Chapter 21 Author’s Note
The entire writing scene with Zenn came rather spontaneously, but I’m rather happy with how it turned out, and helped give a bit of meat to the chapter, too.
And Gwen’s mysterious benefactor finally speaks…
Make of that what you will.
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