Chapter 30: Now What?

Chapter 30: Now What?

The tide lapped gently at the shore as the sun set, casting the sands and grit of the beach in golden red hues. It wasn’t hot and the water was way too cold for swimming, but the air felt comfortable enough to take my boots off. I sat on the large gray stone, my boots neatly set aside while I sat. I slowly dug my foot claws into the sand, enjoying the feeling as my claws split the sand.

I watched a pointy shelled crab like creature scuttle around on the beach for a bit. I say crab; it looked a bit like one, but its shell was pointier, more conical with just a slight curve at the tip, complimented with a spiraling red stripe tracing up the shell. Its legs were also weird, lacking the shell and being fleshier, even tentacle-y. Maybe crab was entirely wrong for what it was like, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Maybe it was a shelly or coilfish like the ones used to make the chimes? It seemed a lot smaller, though, barely the size of its fist. It stopped to stare at me once, looking me up and down from the side with an odd, rectangular pupil.

Under almost every other situation in my life, I’d have tried to grab it so Mom could cook it up. We’d eaten a lot of crabs and crab-like things on the island when we could find them. As it stood, though, I was full, and, well, even if I did grab it, then what? It was pretty small, and for the first time in my life, it felt like food wasn’t a concern. I’d seen fishercats — fishertoms? I needed to ask Mom — pulling in loads of fish and full fields, plus no one seemed hungry here. I didn’t see anyone wasting food like in my first life from sheer abundance, but they seemed well supplied, at least.

Idly, I noted a small, black winged beetle alight on the rock near me. The little crab squid creature thing twitched and switched to watching the beetle, but it was way too high up on the rock to get at easily, even if it was willing to get closer to me.

On a whim, more than anything else, I shot my hand out to grab the beetle before it could fly away. The beetle’s legs frantically wiggled in my grasp, but I had a firm grip. It was an ugly little thing, with spiny legs and a brown carapace and pointy head. With an almost negligent motion, I tossed the beetle at the crab-squid thing I decided was a shelly.

The shelly was surprisingly fast as it vectored on the disoriented beetle scrambling in the sand. A tentacle arm grabbed said beetle and shoved it into its beak with an audible crunch. It looked back at me, almost appraisingly.

I wonder what it thought of my action. It seemed to not consider me a serious threat even if it was eyeing me this entire time. Did it process me at all, or did it just go, ‘see food, consume food’? Or did it have more to it what was in its brain? Was I a mysterious food giver, maybe a strange otherworldly entity foreign to its realm who graced it with a divine gift of nourishment?

I snorted. Silly. Still way better than a rock knocker. Cooler, too.

“I pronounce thee, Sir Shellington, Esquire,” I said grandly. The shelly reoriented in the sand, eyeing me further now that I’d said something. After a few moments of no further action from me, it resumes digging through the sand, although it always kept me in sight of its single, large eye.

A bird flying overhead cast its shadow along the beach. This, evidently, spooked the shelly as, in a surprisingly fast motion, it dug itself into the sand and completely out of sight.

Huh. Neat.

I stretched a bit.

I felt tired from the day’s trip. We’d gone all over, seeing more of the town, with Sasha pointing out more people and about everyone recognizing her. I saw the muscular smith and his daughters working a sturdy forge, carpenters setting up a new house atop an old concrete foundation, little kittens my age or a bit older herding entire flocks of cooing pidgrats as they dumbly pecked and crawled over anything interesting and showed a surprising voraciousness for any bugs they found. My first life would’ve found it all quaint, but the spell of a medieval agrarian idyl broke from time to time.

A trio of matrons chatting around an outdoor table preparing some meal and one peeling open a tin with a purple fruit on it with an old, heavy can opener. Granted, this was a mild adjustment, and not too unusual, but it immediately shifted the medieval idyl look. The real difference ended up being the “workstation” outside the councilor’s manor.

There they had a bulky, gray steel machine with lots of dials and a glass top setup. Hooked up to it by several bulky, thick cables were several machines being used communally. A bulky powered saw occasionally roared as carpenters brought heavy planks and other pieces of wood to be cut. I’d noticed the blade itself didn’t quite fit and compared to what it was hooked up to looked a bit cruder, less elegant with the engraved runes.

On the opposite side of the generator was a big, rumbling machine with green chipped paint. Even from here, a quarter kilometer away, I could smell the charged, oily scent of magic I’d come to associate with magical technology. Heh, magitech. Or thaumatech, technically.

Several farmers with wheelbarrows full of seeds and grain would dump them into the machine, whereupon it would rumble for a bit before sorting the grain into two troughs. I’d only realized what it was after I heard some very distinctive cursing as one trough filled up more than expected and the farmers around immediately got twitchy tails. One even hissed! The machine was a seed sorter.

All of this was overlooked by a stern, older gray furred catfolk with piercing blue eyes in black, suit like clothes as he managed the use of all machines hooked up to the generator.

 What’s more, the people seemed… curious, about me and Mom, but that’s it.

I saw no real hostility, no distrustful stares, or extended claws when they thought we weren’t looking. Just curiosity of people going about their day seeing someone new when new people were in short supply.

It was weird, but nice, far better than my worst expectations of them pointing and screaming ‘witch!’ Granted, it also fell short of my best hope which was being pronounced a princess and fed cake. I knew it existed but hadn’t gotten to try any yet.

A few of the catfolk villagers had even approached us as the day wore on, but Sasha had mostly waved people off. I think we were good for conversation, but she’d said we were new and a little shellshocked from things, which wasn’t wrong, but…

I sighed and flopped back, staring up at the warm hues of the setting sky.

My ears perked. I heard approaching steps, but they were distinctive. The shoes everyone here wore seemed built differently compared to what Mom and I had, and thus it was pretty easy to tell Mom was approaching. That, and her scent. I wouldn’t mistake Mom for anyone. Comfort. Safety. Warmth. Love.

Mom settled next to me on the rock. She said nothing for a bit, although I felt her tail fall on mine with a twitch and I could feel her presence. After a moment, she took off her own boot to sink her claws into the white-gray sands.

“Well, Gwen, what do you think? About living here, that is,” Mom asked.

I turned to her. She wasn’t looking directly at me. Instead, she was looking out to the sea, idly tapping her furred digits on her thigh, half extending her claw tips as she did so. The evening sun framed her red hair with a golden aura. Idly, a part of my brain hoped I grew up to be as pretty as she was.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I eyed Mom in my peripheral vision and saw her purse her lips, but she didn’t speak up.

 It was weird. I knew supposedly what life in society was like, but my context was from stories and from a first life as a different species. I wasn’t sure, frankly. Maybe we’d fall under same family but different genus or subspecies as humans, but it was so, so weird being in a place with other people. If I wanted to, I could walk for, like, a minute and likely find someone to talk to. I wouldn’t have the language down completely but I think we could talk.

I could not get over that feeling. My whole life was isolated with Mom, and then Mom and Sandy. Even meeting Zenn’s group hadn’t really expanded that list beyond a few strangers, and now there were so many and it felt overwhelming even if, logically, I knew this is a fraction of a fraction of a percent what a society could be. I wasn’t even fully certain what living with other people would be. Was I going to get a job?

The image of working in a massive retail store stocking endless cans of tomato soup struck my brain like lightning and I didn’t know whether to be intrigued by the possibility of industrial quantities of soup or horrified by the reminder of minimum wage.

Or maybe I was overthinking it.

I was here now. Still young, still growing. So, what if we weren’t foraging every day or doing other stuff? Maybe someone else could cook.

“Mama? Do you like it here?” I asked.

She gave me a sharp look at that, like she hadn’t expected it. She pursed her lips. Her ears were still, as was her tail, but the fur remained normal and calm. “I…” she began. “I can’t say I dislike it. It’s not the Illiana I knew, but I don’t think it’s bad.”

I nodded. Seemed like she echoed my thoughts.

“Then I guess we’ll live here,” I said, sitting up.

“Oh? Just like that?” Mom said, amusement bleeding into her voice. Her tail twitched left and right.

She’s not going to pounce on me, is she?

No, she wouldn’t. Not in public, I think. Embarrassment wasn’t a fun feeling, as it turned out. 3/10, I would not recommend.

Mildly worried about needing to take evasive maneuvers, I simply nodded at mom with a, “Uh-huh. I said so.”

That didn’t exactly settle a lot of things I knew needed to be resolved. Honestly, there was a list, such as:

1.     Where exactly are we going to live? With Sasha? In town? How would we get to know all the towns’ people exactly?

2.     What would Mom do to earn her keep? I doubt they’d feed us indefinitely just because we looked super sad. I didn’t think I could do cute kitten eyes that well. Too much competition there.

a.     Would we pay rent? Would Mom take up fishing? Or would she help with farming? Or wood cutting? Or would she put her technical knowledge to use?

                                               i.     Oh, gods taxes.

1.     I decided not to even contemplate this further as taxation systems were a whole mess I was not remotely ready to think about.

3.     What would growing up here even entail? I, er, didn’t really know. The fact that I could ask this was weird as I don’t think most five going on six-year-olds would think to ask questions like I am. Or maybe they would, heck if I knew.

4.     What would I even do? Would they put me in a school? Did this place even have a school? How would I interact with other kids than Zenn?

My mental list crashed off a cliff as I remembered Zenn with a pang.

Despite how new she was, I missed her. My first friend and I hadn’t seen her in, well, I thought over a week? I last remembered her being picked up from the refugee hunters’ cart when I was getting really sick. She must be worried about me.

For that matter, I missed Sandy. I still didn’t know why she was inactive now and sleeping here but not out there. Was something different here affecting her?

“What’s on your mind, Gwen?” Mom suddenly asked.

I jerked toward her as I remembered she was, in fact, here. Mostly. I stuttered a bit before slumping. “I miss Sandy and Zenn,” I finally admitted.

Mom stroked my hair. I leaned into her touch. “Zenn should be here any day now. As for Sandy, well, I have some ideas to try soon.”

“What about Sasha? When are we going to tell her?” I asked.

Mom opened and closed her mouth silently. “I don’t know, Gwen. We’ll have to at some point,” she said, but the way it sounded seemed like almost as much of a question to herself.

Delicate footsteps interrupted us and both Mom and I turned in synchronicity to see Sasha making her way to us. By now the sunset was getting closer to the “set” part of things and it was visibly getting darker. Sasha seemed a bit tired, but I noticed her basket full of herbs and vials was empty. I guess she finished her business?

“We overstayed a bit and would take some time to get back to my cottage. Would you mind staying in town tonight? I could ensure your safety to my home, but it would be quite dark,” Sasha said.

I was about to ask why it wouldn’t be safe but caught myself as remembered the multiple things that wanted to eat me that were out there.

The world wasn’t safe.

The thought made me feel small. I scooted closer to Mom.

Mom was staring at Sasha with an odd expression, as if studying her. “I’m okay with staying here. Do you have a place for us to lodge?”

“Certainly, there’s a room at the Tavern we can take. One I’ve taken before, in fact, but we’ll have to share,” Sasha said, almost apologetically.

I shrugged. It wasn’t like we hadn’t camped out with others before. Granted, in a small room it might be a bit different, but still.

Walking back through the town was a different experience. Whereas it was lively and full of people going back and forth, working industriously, now it was clear that with sun down, people were winding down. Yet, unlike with people, I saw activity didn’t stop.

I think my human first life would’ve been near blind with how few lights there were. I saw maybe three light sources, total in the town after it got dark, and those seemed like candles or small lanterns. But me? I could see just fine. Not as well as in the daylight, and the colors seemed much more suppressed, but it was fine. So too, did the people keep going.

I could see eyes glinting as some people still made their way out and about, a few people with simple poles and lines making their way down to the beach. Were they night fishing for something? Or would they be going out on the boats for another haul? I saw a few catfolk  heading down roads with baskets as they headed into the trees and wooded areas in town to harvest something near the stream.

I even saw a catboy and a catgirl who seemed to be in their teens sneak off to some secluded bushes like they were invisible and oh dear…

I decided not to focus too much on those pairings. Yuck.

Still, I guessed for catfolk, night life didn’t have to end with daylight, or even lackluster lights. Starlight was enough.

Mom noticed all this too and seemed to take it in stride. Which made me curious.

“Mom? Why did we always try to sleep around sundown?” I asked. We had. Not always, particularly if Mom had work to do on Sandy back on the island, but even on reaching the mainland we’d mostly kept to a schedule I think most humans would’ve recognized.

“Interesting question,” Sasha commented. “I have my own experiences, of course, but my own situation is certainly different from yours.”

Mom hesitated a moment before saying, “Forage, mostly, Gwen, and just because we can see at night does not mean it’s always safe.”

“Oh,” was all I could say.

I should’ve thought of that.

The rest of the trip continued in silence. The tavern itself was lit up, if only slightly. Inside it was…

Cleaner than I expected.

I think my first life expected a tavern to be filthy because of all the stuff he read. This one smelled… nice. Vaguely vinegary, which I immediately was able to attribute to the cleaning fluid they used as a cat-matron turned to regard us as we entered from behind a bar, cleaning cloth, and jug in hand. The walls were sturdy and made of tan and white brick, while the furniture all looked practical, with heavy tables and chairs set around for people to sit. A large, sturdy crossbeam dominated the ceiling, while a few tables to the sides had a card game going. A few patrons looked at us curiously but felt more preoccupied with a bowl of soup or bread. Well, mostly. One guy was drooling and purring on a very exasperated gray-haired friend and clearly drunk already this early in the night.

“Sasha! Friends of yours?” the blond tavern keeper said.

“Quite, Megan, just stopping here in town for the night. The little one is tired, you see,” she said.

What? How dare she! We’d agreed to all go to sleep in town! I pouted and stomped.

This got the tavern keeper laughing, which in turn had Sasha giggling and my Mom…

Mom was a traitor with how she snickered.

“But yeah, my usual room, please, and a bowl of stew in the morning,” she said.

“Of course,” Megan commented, before fishing out a small key from behind the bar. It was simple and made of iron. “Last door on the left, breakfast as daybreak, same as always.”

And…

That was that. Mom took my hand and guided me up even while I wanted to hiss and glare at everyone in the vicinity, but I was evidently overruled.

The room itself was simple. A small table, and a bed. Almost a literal bedroom.

Of course, the bed was singular.

There was an awkward hesitation on all of our parts as we looked at Sasha and she looked back at us before she shrugged and undressed to her final layer, some sort of gown thing? I didn’t know what it was, but she was wearing it underneath.

Mom followed suit, helped me to undress, and before long we were all on the bed. It was, of course, rougher than Sasha’s own bedroom we’d been using. In fact, everything felt a little bit… rougher, than what she had. But I’d also gotten used to sleeping bags, so it wasn’t so bad.

Part of me wanted to note the weirdness, but that was overruled by the whispering pull of sleep and how I felt safe here, and thus consciousness lost out.

~~~~

The next day’s start was a bit unceremonious. We got up as daylight peaked. Funnily enough, it was Mom who wanted to sleep in the most.

“Mom?” I gently shook her shoulder as Sasha put on her dress and oh wow she had a lot of layers. I shook my head and focused back on Mom but found her still very much asleep and snoring.

I shook her again, with a more insistent “Mom!” and “Wake up!” but she insisted on ignoring my plea, the meanie.

Tail twitching and feeling a touch mischievous as the possibility of revenge for last night’s indignities, I froze as I glanced to Sasha who’d stopped to watch. She gave a gesture, as if a silent “by your leave,” and I may have felt a bit of impish glee that left my fangs showing.

Thus, I stuck a finger in my mouth, made sure it was nice and wet, and shoved it past the fuzz and well and truly into Mom’s ear with a full-on wet willie The effect was immediate Mom yowled and shot to her feet. Eyes wide, she immediately saw me still outstretched and growled, “Gwen!”

I’d just stuck my tongue out at her. “You wouldn’t wake up, so I helped!” I spoke.

Mom tried to keep her glare up, and I think on my own I would’ve been in trouble, but Sasha letting out a tittering giggle seemed to break Mom as she let out a laugh of her own.

Breakfast saw the tavern relatively empty, although a few people were already in and enjoying breakfast. I didn’t think they’d been here last night as there wasn’t more than three or four rooms, so maybe they just came in for breakfast? Breakfast was a fishy stew with bread. Not as good as the bouillabaisse, I’d had on first waking up in Sasha’s cottage, but something I still ate every bit of and licked clean.

Sasha said her goodbyes, and I even gave Megan a wave after she’d sneaked me a bread roll which I promptly stuffed in my mouth.

This led to me stepping out just in time to see a line of tired, worn out, and scratched but very much alive and familiar faces marching down the street, still pulling their cart while a few other catfolk marched by.

But it was the familiar green eyes and blonde hair that made me freeze. She’d been trudging along, talking animatedly with the older catfolk next to her, but in that moment, she saw me. Her eyes widened, she pointed dramatically, and yelled at the same time I did.

 “Ze-gahtga” I tried to yell. This was a mistake, as this only succeeded in making me choke on the bread I was halfway through eating. This left me unprepared as while I succeeded in dislodging the bread I was choking on, I was left entirely defenseless as a kinetic and actively ballistic Zenn reached me in a full-on tackle hug that bowled me over into nearby bushes.

I realized Zenn was full on purring and literally rubbed her cheek against me, and I realized, once more, I was powerless to escape her strong grasp, but this time around? I don’t think I really minded it.

Chapter 30 Author Notes

There we go. Fun chapter albeit one that fought me. I think I may need to adjust my posting schedule. Trying to keep up meaningful chapters every week is something I’m clearly struggling with, and having a week off seemed to help a lot.

That said, I hope everyone enjoyed. I wanted to follow up the tour a bit with a bit of insight into Gwen and Eliza’s thoughts on actually living here, now that they’ve started to see the village and, well, the goal here was for the implications to really be sinking in by this point, and that things are different.

Bonus points if over the past few chapters people have been able to identify what’s going on with the shelled creatures that keep popping up :3.

Patreon note: this will see a bit more editing in the public release so this is a bit rough, but I wanted to get this out on Friday as an early-ish treat. :3

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