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[Pokémon World] Another Way



Chapter 19: Treachery



Sue came to with a startle, feeling herself jolt forward at the sudden awakening—but her point of view didn't shift at all.

Her mind tried to move her body around, turn her head, her eyes, scream for help. Nothing, again and again, bringing her from unconsciousness straight into panic. A few moments later, the perspective finally shifted, leaning backward—and letting her spot something in the corner of her vision, the brown feathers bringing forth a terrifying realization.

This wasn't her body.

The awareness didn't stop Sue from trying to thrash against her bindings, at least initially, but her motivation petered out fast, especially once this body began to shuffle along the branch it was perching on. After she'd given up on trying to move, she attempted to concentrate on what her temporary host was observing.

The wide path they were hiding beside felt... familiar, but Sue wouldn't be able to nail down why, even if she tried. To her worry, its initial emptiness wouldn't last, with Ginger and Alastor walking in from the left, their appearance oddly detailed. Every single scale in all their stark colors, every single strand of red and black fur, all sharp and in focus. This body must've been some good hundred meters away, how the hell—

And then; Solstice entered the scene. Or, at least, someone who she thought was Solstice—a Forest Guardian without a crutch and with tattoos covering half their body. They initially lead the approaching group before shifting off to the side, making her host's gaze narrow at their sight, so intensely it felt like an optical zoom.

People kept moving all around, but this body's sole focus remained on what had to be the Mayor. Her host lifted their left wing, the damaged feathers surrounding a puncture wound not even registering as Sue's attention was fixed on what they were doing with it. She only barely made out them holding something green above and just to the side of their center of vision, the realization making Sue gasp soundlessly—right as Juniper nocked another feather arrow.

Sue could only watch.

Seconds dragged out into minutes as Juniper aimed at Solstice, arrow at the ready. The Forest Guardian on the receiving end of the owl's ire looked much more uncomfortable than usual, glancing around once, twice—and stopping abruptly, eyes going wide and her mouth freezing mid-gasp. Juniper's focus honed even further as she drew the arrow back, awaiting a sign. Moments later, Solstice clenched her hand twice in a quick succession, the gesture accompanied by a voice spoken in a choir of a thousand silver voices, sentencing her to her doom:

"Now."​

An instant later, Juniper let the arrow loose, streaking across the air with its malicious purple tracer, aimed right at the Moonview's Mayor—

And then; it missed.

Its aim immaculate; its power beyond compare—and yet, it missed, almost grazing its target's collarbone. It didn't strike the grass behind her, however; it hit something else, something obscured, something golden—


And inadvertently woke Sue up.

She was too shocked to let herself come to, her whole body shaking as she tried to stand up as soon as possible. All she earned for that attempt was a wave of nausea rolling through her. Stinging pain rushed from her front and back simultaneously, forcing her eyes closed as she sat hunched over something soft. All the adrenaline boiling inside her made even her own breathing too loud, with any attempts to quieten it by calming down clashing with her exertion and need for air.

What, where, how, was this real; where am I—

Sue tried to look around again, making both herself and the being she'd opened her eyes to see jump backward in shock, their expressions equally startled. They were large, almost all black, and very, very hairy. Before too much panic could build up in her, her recollection finally kicked in: Large, dark, furry, night kin—Jasper.

With her memories having caught up with the speed of her fear, Sue could take the rest of the scene in. Jasper sitting so close to her bedding initially felt confusing, but that emotion didn't last for longer than it took Sue to notice the several salves and pieces of clean-ish off-white fabric laying on a stool beside him. Her sudden awakening had seemingly caught him in the middle of reaching for one of the former—and if his scared, frozen expression was any sign, he was no less shocked by her than she'd been by him.

They were inside of a rough wooden hut, the rickety planks that comprised its walls not filling Sue with confidence. The bedding beneath her was similarly barebones, a soft woven cover on top of what felt like a bed-shaped mound of leaves.

I'm being tended to. Things are alright. Things are alright.

The most recent... vision provided plentiful fuel for her overactive anxiety, but Sue was determined to not let it dominate her again. She may not have had even the slightest inkling of an idea how Solstice and Sundance communicated with the night kin through telepathy despite the latter's apparent immunity, but exact words weren't needed this time—hopefully.

"G-good afternoon," Sue mumbled in as calm of a voice as she could manage.

Her words did wonders, Jasper's bulky frame visibly calming down at hearing her anxiety having waned away by now. Soon after, he resumed his previous action and kneeled beside the bedding, a hairy hand reaching to take apart something Sue hadn't consciously noticed until that point.

Several layers of bandages were wrapped around her torso, securing a dressing and other medical-looking pieces of white fabric to the tip of her front horn. If the size of it all was any indication, the wound they were concealing thankfully wasn't very large—though it still hurt a bit when she breathed. It reminded Sue of the sensations of something touching a fresh, unpleasant cut, except happening every time her lungs drew in the air.

Uncomfortable, but not unmanageable.

She gave Jasper free access to her recent injury as she tried to scan her surroundings in search of the rest of her impromptu peace party, regretting the latter immediately. As much as it smarted when just breathing, the wound on her horn kept its worst for last, flaring up with burning pain the moment she tried tapping into her sixth sense.

Figured it'd hurt, but not that much...

The realization didn't help Sue's confidence much, leaving her grimacing and unable to do much more than breathe deeply. Jasper's help was very appreciated, though; the awareness that someone was looking after her did wonders in keeping her grounded. Once he was done unwrapping the bandage around her horn, he began applying the paste he'd brought with him—but not before Sue got a good look at the damages.

The cut couldn't have been deeper than a quarter of an inch, the pinky-red tissue around it inflamed. The injury itself was almost bloodless by now, only a couple of tiny droplets oozing out the moment the old bandages were removed. No more dangerous than a nosebleed—she hoped, at least—even if much more painful.

It'd be nice to not have to worry about something for once here...

Once Jasper had discarded the used bandage, he applied some of the pre-prepared paste along the cut, making her wince at the immediate stinging sensation. Thankfully, he wrapped it up fast, putting the sweet-smelling, yellowish ointment away and pressing another piece of dressing against her injury. He then tied a small bit of decidedly well-worn bandage around her horn to keep it all in place and lean back, examining his efforts.

Martian first aid, done.

Sue couldn't say it all made her feel immediately better or anything, but she appreciated his efforts all the same, doubly so after what she'd been through. She still had no idea what had actually happened, but at least now she was confident enough to try her luck with her psychic abilities again.

Arms performed their usual routine as she focused inward, gritting her teeth through the pain radiating from her horn. It still hurt, especially as she moved her mental reach around, but it was just barely tolerable now; letting Sue spot several nearby blobs of consciousness—including one of them making their way right towards her.

Alright, hopefully it's some answers—Jasper?

A glance up at the much kinder of the two big black furry night kin revealed a very distraught expression. He was on the verge of tears, one hairy arm frozen in the middle of reaching out towards her head. It didn't look aggressive at a glance—but a glance was all Sue would get before the impromptu medic withdrew his arm and the rest of himself from the scene, sobbing quietly as he left.

Just in time for Solstice to walk in through the other entrance.

As much relief as her presence brought the younger Forest Guardian, much of it was undercut by her terrible state. Concern, exhaustion, somber resignation, all clear, not just to Sue's sixth sense but on Solstice's face directly. Her eyes and cheeks were glistening, her posture was hunched over, her steps were staggered and shaky. Despite it all, she pushed on, whispering, "^S-Sue, I'm so glad to see you doing fine...^"

Sue wanted to rush in and hold her tight, to provide some of that well needed comfort—alas, she was in no position to do so. Instead, she asked, shocked, "Solstice, what—what happened!? D-did Juniper attack us?"

"^She attacked me,^" the Mayor clarified, though her words helped little with Sue's confusion. Solstice could tell, a long, wistful sigh leaving her at having to go over such a draining and senseless sequence of events again. "^Juniper tried to strike me, but... something in me sensed it, and I teleported out of the line of fire. A-and then the arrow grazed you, a-and hit Sundance...^"

Sue gasped at that final addendum. The words jogged her tattered recollection, including the vixen collapsing beside her. If she hadn't already experienced it earlier that day, the mention of a feat as sci-fi-ish as outright teleportation would've caught a lot more of her attention. "I-is she alright!?" she asked, almost getting up from her seat there and then.

"^She... she's alive, but in a rough state. Her aura was hit hard, a-and… she's in a coma.^"

"Thank—thank the gods..." Sue whispered, on the verge of tears.

The mention of damage to something with as undefined of a shape as an aura was difficult to interpret, but she didn't want to burden her mentor with explaining it to her, nodding along. Solstice knew her pupil didn't need an explanation to at least get the gist, and in any objective judgment it was a waste of time, but… she still wanted to go over it. To help Sue truly comprehend the gravity of the situation.

To feel like she could help someone, anyone.

"^C-come with me Sue,^" she beckoned, "^let me show you what I mean—i-if that's alright.^"

The request came from nowhere, but Sue wasn't about to reject it, not if it let her check up on her other mentor. She nodded eagerly, combining her crutch, good leg, and the stool that Jasper had left behind to pick herself back up. Her nicked horn throbbed a bit at the slight elevation change, but she gritted her teeth through it.

Their march was very short, the destination just a couple of buildings away. It was similarly bare-bones to the one they had just left, if slightly larger, its back entry closer to a large plank to be pushed aside than an actual door. A few simple wooden doodads aside, the inside was barren, though that's not what Sue focused on.

Sundance was sleeping on her back and breathing deeply, with only a few bandages wrapped around her right shoulder. At a glance, it looked like she was just taking a nap or something, but the reality of the situation grew more unnerving as Sue tried to concentrate. As new as those sensations still were, Sue remembered the feel of Sundance's mental presence very well—and to her horror, it was so much weaker now, so much frailer, feeling more so like a cancer patient than a mystic that had helped her with more than one conundrum already.

And that perception was only solidified once Sue felt Solstice's mental reach adjust hers, helping her focus all the emotions away and hone in on just the vixen's aura, just like she'd been taught.

This feels... so disturbing.

Sue knew little about all this, distraughtly so, but even she couldn't help but feel... wrong, very wrong. A few days ago, when Solstice had helped her train, hers and Comet's auras gave her the impression of a large amoeba or something, blob-like and squirming. Sundance's looked like that too, but if that blob had been repeatedly slashed with a dull knife, the strikes fraying it and almost cutting it in two. The very thought made Sue feel deathly cold, the injury she'd just imagined more than likely lethal.

And unhelpful to think about, for that matter.

Sundance wasn't dead, she was just injured, her aura kept moving—if slowly—and the massive gash was mending itself ever so gradually. She would recover; it was just a matter of when, not if—or at least, that's what Sue hoped for with her entire self.

"^You're right, she will recover on her own in time, but it might take a while,^" Solstice confirmed. "^Could be days, could be weeks, could even be months. You never know with something as fickle as our aura.^"

"A-and that's j-just from that one arrow? H-how!?" Sue asked, shocked.

"^Stray spirits can't harm flesh, but they rend the soul apart.^"

The explanation clarified exactly nothing, except maybe hinting at it being an act of a ghost or something. If Juniper somehow was a ghost in the same vein as Hazel, she was doing a dang good job at maintaining a corporeal appearance, that's for sure. Sue shook that topic aside, asking instead, "S-so her body is unharmed?"

"^It wasn't hurt beyond the shallow puncture of the arrow quill, no.^"

The body was fine, but... the soul wasn't. What a morbid thing to imagine, especially when taken to its logical conclusion. "C-could someone j-just die by having their aura... destroyed without their body being damaged, th-then?"

"^Y-yes, they could. Th-thank goodness it's not what happened here, I... I wouldn't know what to do...^" Solstice whimpered, almost breaking down again.

Sue immediately felt worse at having steered away from concern and towards morbid curiosity for no reason. She saw the older Forest Guardian's head perk up as her thoughts turned to self loathing, but no words came out. They couldn't, of course they couldn't.

What does one even say to this?

"Wh-why did she attack you?" Sue whispered, trying to keep a grip on herself. "Where is she now, a-are we safe!?"

"^I... I hope we are. She's no longer in Newmoon.^"

Solstice's words were vague, but to her relief, she wouldn't have to be the one to explain everything. After walking over to gently stroke her best friend's head, the Mayor headed for the exit and tilted her head for Sue to follow.

Most of Newmoon's inhabitants were gathered around the firepit outside, the approaching sunset lighting up the whole place in a much more somber way. Sue might not have been able to sense their emotions, but she could see their faces—and they weren't happy.

"Oh, thank the Dark Lord, you're alright Sue~," Daystar perked up, her words unexpectedly emotional for her as her lanky body visibly relaxed at Sue's arrival. The rest of the group mostly mirrored her reaction, relief being easier to read on some people's faces than on others.

Much, much easier.

"Sue!" Pollux woofed, bolting over in an instant.

"^Oh gosh Miss Sue, you looked so hurt!^" Thistle followed.

Before she could even make it to the bench, she was already swarmed by the two little ones. Neither the lil' fox nor the equally lil' hat creature might've come even close to clearing her knee, but they still did their best to be walking obstacles, reminding Sue of Spark's reaction to her doomed attempt to run away from Moonview, with all its emotions.

Daystar chuckled, "C'mon guys, give Sue space~."

Thankfully, the two didn't need to be told twice. They kept their boundless excitement in check for just long enough to let their friend sit down—and not a moment more; the kiddos huddling close from opposing sides, night kin fur and psychically enhanced hair both tingling pleasurably. The sight brought some smiles to the assorted gathering, but only so many, most still quiet under the gloomy atmosphere.

Sue figured this was the right moment to ask what happened—

"Blasted coward!" Thorns shouted through teeth, the clinking of sharp pincers at the ends of her purplish segmented body stressing the expression of anger.

As chill as Ginger was previously, he couldn't help but concur with weak nods, the freely hanging green skin on the back of his head shuffling against itself. "I... yeah. Guess you must be mighty confused, eh, Sue?"

Sue nodded weakly, and the technicolor lizard responded in kind. It took him unusually long to gather his words. Even once he did, though, his eternally calm voice was noticeably strained at times, as if fighting to keep itself from rising. "Yeah. Juniper attacked Solstice, hit you and Sundance. Jasper and Heather helped you two while we tried to get an explanation out of her. She kept going about her usual stuff, how all this was just a ploy so that Moonview can backstab us or whatever. We weren't having it and tried to bind her so that she could answer for what she'd done and she... *sigh*, she slipped through our grasp."

That last admission made everyone gathered deflate, leaving them either kicking themselves for having acted too slowly, or getting royally annoyed at others for having acted too slowly. Not that it mattered anymore—the deed was done, and the perpetrator ran off without facing any consequences.

For a couple minutes afterward, nobody spoke up; the entire gathering plunged into cold, uncomfortable silence. Neither the night kin cub nor the magic hat creature took it any better than the rest, though Sue could only sense the emotions of the latter. They were definitely intense—feelings of betrayal towards Juniper, worry about Sue and Sundance, and most of all, grief at the peace talks and the possibility of reconciliation they brought with themselves being completely ruined.

And... yeah. They were.

The awareness deepened the sinking feeling that had already been worming its way into Sue, with every thought about just how bad the optics of all this were making her want to shrivel up. Two envoys and one tagalong venture to Newmoon, unarmed and with no ill intent. One of them gets almost literally stabbed in the back, the second gets hurt in the crossfire, and the perpetrator escapes.

The more Sue reflected on the situation, the more she felt the paranoia inside her grow. What if Juniper didn't actively escape, but was let go? What if others were in on it? What if the opportunity to decapitate Moonview's leadership was the only reason Newmoon even proceeded with these talks to begin with?

These were all absurd ideas and Sue knew it—but that didn't mean that everyone else would know that too, especially not if it would play further into their preexisting distrust. At least her and to a greater extent Solstice were witnesses and could try to push back on the assassination angle once it would inevitably come up, but...

A part of Sue was afraid it wouldn't end up mattering.

"Guess that's it for the talks, eh," Ginger sighed, his voice flat and yet tense, lacking its usual laid-back impression. Everyone else agreed with various degrees of anger and reluctance; a wordless chorus of nods, sighs, and slumps joining in from all around the fire pit.

Solstice almost looked like she had gone limp for a while, disheveled hair framing slightly tearing eyes. Fear, despair.

Guilt, shame.

"Well," the lizard continued, rolling his shoulders, "suppose someone will have to help move Sundance back over to Moonview. I'm down to help." There was a bit more emotion in his voice this time, but only so much. It came off less like eagerness to jump into action and more so reluctant agreement to proceed with a root canal treatment just to get it over with.

"Thank you, Ginger," Solstice whispered, quiet and barely holding back tears.

The lizard nodded. "No worries, Solstice. It's the least we can do after... all that."

"What about Sue~?" Daystar asked, bringing the group's attention back to the younger Forest Guardian. Everyone judged how suited she was to walking the distance between here and Moonview, inevitably arriving at either 'no way in hell' or 'how in the world did she get in here in the first place?'.

"Good point. I've got the strength, but not the arm span to carry two. You could probably lift her without an issue, Daystar, but I imagine having to haul a psychic for a few hours would get very unpleasant fast," Ginger reasoned.

"And that's puttin' it lightly, yeah~."

Before Sue could wonder what her being a psychic had to do with her carriability, Ginger brought on the other obvious candidate. "Hmmm. Thorns?"

"If need be," the scorpion relented.

"I'll carry her." A low, growly voice caught everyone's attention, their gazes snapping over to what used to be an empty bench just moments ago, now occupied by Alastor. One day, Sue would understand just how he was doing all this, but that day wasn't today.

Sue reeled back, startled by their sudden appearance as the closest thing Newmoon had to a leader continued, "Ya sure, Alastor?"

"Yes... I am. Considering everything, it would only be appropriate for me to make up for my prior offense."

Sue was torn between finding that attitude commendable on the abstract level, and still being afraid of the night kin fox following his intangible attack earlier. Had the atmosphere been any less tense, she would've probably tried to leverage her position into asking him a question or two, but with everything going on right now... yeah, no—and the same went for the possibility of refusing the offer.

Sure, she could probably refuse and be fine, but the absolute last thing she wanted to do in the moment was drag this on any further through her silly personal preferences. Solstice, being Solstice, tried to intervene and reassure her—but she was too late. "Alright, th-that's fine with me," Sue whispered. "Thank you, Alastor..."

Nothing was fine, and nothing was fine with Sue especially. Her problems paled compared to others', though, and so it was best to just try to move on.

The physical proximity to Alastor did little to reduce the intimidation factor, especially with his size. He could easily look her in the eyes from head on even when hunched, and the vibrant red claws were in a league of their own as far as looking threatening went. Being able to do... whatever he did with those shadows earlier was really just a cherry on top, even his physical body sufficient to make him the perfect killing machine. As to whether he used to be one, like Daystar and presumably many others in both villages...

Sue didn't want to know.

She froze as those clawed arms scooped her up, holding her crutch as tight as she could before the adult fox deposited her... in his mane. Sue didn't expect it to support her body like it did, but for once, it was a welcome surprise, letting her relax. Relax, and enjoy the view while she was sitting inside the crimson hair of a massive, shadowy, illusionist fox that had committed battery and assault towards her just a few hours ago, while a bright, multi-color lizard held Sundance in a fireman's carry just a few feet away from them both, looking utterly unperturbed by her weight.

The same couldn't be said for warmth, though. Ginger's panting grew much louder and more frequent as the impromptu group headed off. Newmoon was shrinking in the distance behind them by the moment, the kiddos waving them off as they ventured into the woods.

For all Sue knew, this would be her last time ever seeing that village.


As tense as the mood was back in Newmoon, it gradually calmed down with every step, thawing into a muted, uneasy melancholy. Sundance was in a coma, the peace talks were ruined, there was no guarantee how anyone in Moonview would react to the news...

Yeah.

Sue tried to distract herself from that uncomfortable reality, attempting to steer her mind towards a silly tangent or another. Once that didn't work, she considered resorting to her usual Plan B for extra hard bouts of depression. Sleep was no panacea, but it felt like one sometimes, especially for things being wrong inside one's head. Just somewhere to go away from the sadness, away from creeping grief, into the sweet release of unconsciousness.

And it might have even worked here too, but she wasn't in a position to find out.

As comfortable as Alastor's mane was when stationary, the constant jumpiness of his steps made it nigh impossible to get any proper rest, or even really relax. It probably would've been crass had she done that anyway, but at least that would be a problem for someone with more spare brainpower to take care of when the time came—namely, future Sue.

Alas, no sleep this time, or any other rest for that matter, either. All Sue could do was observe the passing scenery, its monotonousness making that rather taxing. Striking up a conversation was always a possibility, especially with Solstice here to translate for her.

Considering that course of action would've been unthinkable even back in her home world where she didn't look like an extra from a Martian invasion movie and actually knew the language being used around her... attempting to do so here and now wasn't the best of ideas.

Solstice already had plenty on her mind, as is.

Her emotions weren't all too different to Sue's own, deep down. Sadness, anxiety, restlessness. Sue could understand all those perfectly, too perfectly even, but the one that came immediately afterwards was a bit more confusing. Solstice lifted her arm, eyes scanning along its tattoos, and... doubted. Doubted deeply and painfully, the sensation less like dismissing something obviously bullshit a friend of a friend had mentioned, and more akin to questioning whether there even was any reason to keep going—

"^How are you holding up, Sue?^" Solstice whispered.

Figures I wasn't the only one who can sense when others are focusing on me.

Sue gathered her words, the answer hardly pretty no matter how hard she tried to pretend she was alright. She couldn't pretend, but she could lie, just to not have to rehash what the other Forest Guardian was no doubt already going through. She thought back, keeping her mouth closed, "^I'm... I'm fine. Just... a bit tired and worried.^"

Solstice nodded without looking over at her, her sigh loud enough to be audible even a few feet behind her. "^I-I wish I could come up with some reassurance right now. But... I can't.^"

"^It's okay, Solstice.^"

Nothing was okay, and they both knew it.

The air remained tense after that non-exchange, both of them knowing there was so much more to be said and yet being unable to put any words to these needs. Fortunately for everyone gathered, they wouldn't be stuck in that moment of tension for much longer, Moonview coming into distant view after turning the last corner—

And bringing them to the very scene Sue had seen in her dream.

Her heartbeat spiked as her eyes desperately scanned the treeline, trying to find that Duck-damned owl. Nothing, no browns of her wings, no greenness of her leaf-like hood. She remained blended in perfectly, and all Sue could do was sit, watch,

And try to prevent further tragedy. "^S-Solstice!^"

"^Hmm?^"

Sue's word had clearly taken the Mayor out of her train of thought. She looked up, stopping at realizing how close they finally were to her home. The rest of the group stopped behind her, interpreting the pause as a signal to drop their cargo—Sue onto her own legs, and Sundance into Solstice's arms.

"^It'll have to wait until later, Sue,^" Solstice sighed, switching back to the spoken word. "Ginger, Alastor... Thank you so much for your help. I'm... I'm sorry."

Sue's words caught in her throat as she tried to speak up again; her heart hammered faster and faster as she tried to spot the hidden threat.

"You're welcome, Solstice. And there ain't no reason to be sorry," Ginger reassured, putting on his most convincing smile. "You did nothing wrong today."

Solstice's head slumped. "If only we were here just because of today."

"If only, aye. But, oh well, I doubt that feeling sorry will help any of us much."

It wouldn't, and it couldn't, and everyone gathered knew that from experience. Experience that mattered oh-so-precious-little once the time came for their psyches to start grinding on them because of what they had, or hadn't done. Admittedly, Sue didn't have much spare brain power for thinking through those peculiarities of the condition of all sentient beings. Not with what she'd seen in her dreams, their memory still so recent and vivid, and...

…no longer up to date, unless the vision had somehow censored Sundance's massive, bushy body from Solstice's arms.

What the hell is going on—

"It won't, I know. Well, suppose it's time for us to say our goodbyes."

Solstice's words snapped Sue out of that confusing train of thought, the impulse to avoid embarrassing herself kicking in soon after. "Y-yes, um—thank you for your help, A-Alastor."

"It is no problem, Sue. I... apologize for my actions earlier, and thank you... f-for saving my son," Alastor replied. With how low and steady his voice was when calm, Sue didn't expect to hear a crack in his words, taking her aback.

Before she could dwell on it much, Ginger spoke up—"I see how it is, won't say goodbye to me, eh?" he chuckled. The intended joke didn't land particularly well, making him speak up again after seeing Sue's eyes widen in worry at the possible faux pas. "Sorry, sorry, was just a joke. Yeah, I'm glad you three swung by. Was nice talking and meeting you all. Actually—"

Before Ginger could even complete his sentence, Sue felt a wave of static go through her. The sensation was familiar enough for her to have an idea of what she'd see once she looked up—and indeed, Solstice was gone, her teleport taking her well into Moonview.

Being left on her own didn't feel any nicer the second time around.

Especially since she had company with her this time.

The lizard continued to speak for a few more moments before looking up and realizing the older Forest Guardian had left. Undeterred, he looked and appeared to repeat the same sentence as before towards Sue directly. It kinda sounded like a question, but as Daystar's lesson had taught her, it could've been just the weird tonality of this language. Left with no way of responding confidently, Sue resorted to the true and tested tactic of playing very dumb.

Just like she'd practiced with Willow and Spark all the way back. "Sorry, I-I can't understand you."

In turning towards Ginger to deliver her response, Sue realized Alastor had left in the meantime. Just her, the technicolor lizard, a large stretch of dirt path in front of Moonview, and—wait, is that Rainfall on one of the nearby branches—

Right as she focused on what she thought to be the night kin bird, the recipient of her focus flew off, making them impossible to identify with certainty. Though... it wouldn't be surprising if it was her, based on what Sue had heard earlier. Regardless of who exactly she'd glimpsed, Ginger deemed it fit to comment on it himself as well, ending his comment with a chittering warble that was probably intended to be perceived as laughter.

Heh, guess my confusion is a bit funny—wait, where are you going?

Sue could only blink in surprise as she watched Ginger finally pick up the slack and head towards Moonview. She had no idea how to react to that with the supposed exile in place, rooted in place until the colorful lizard himself glanced at her over his shoulder. A flick of his head toward the village sent the green skin hood flying, instructing her to follow him.

Not like she had anywhere else to go.

Her arm wasted no time complaining once it was time to get going, the few hours of reprieve seemingly not enough for its tastes. Sue was split between wanting to be finally freed from the need to use a funky-shaped stick just to walk anywhere and telling her own limb to get a grip, and the latter impulse seemed to be winning. As weird as it was to admit it, her crutch had started to feel less like an inanimate tool to be passed on once she was done, and more like a part of herself. A rough, heavy, occasionally unwieldy part of herself that probably had several splinters waiting to get back at her, but a part of her all the same.

Especially since the odds were that even the crutch was alive and a specimen of the local magical fauna. Not a massive chance, sure, but a non-zero one all the same. Okay, no, scratch that idea. She would definitely not want to have some unidentified life form by her side every time she slept.

Except if it's Lilly in disguise.

Before Sue could get any deeper into that inane train of thought, her sixth sense finally conquered the little that remained of her attention span. At last, Moonview's entrance, an important night kin in tow, and possibly another in the surrounding trees, and exactly zero idea of what Ginger was planning and how badly it would go.

She didn't know whether this situation or a peeping tom crutch were more uncomfortable to think about, but it was nothing if not a close matchup.

To her immediate relief, the first few steps into the village weren't particularly eventful—though it wasn't to last. Bit by bit, people around her realized just who it was beside her; their reactions as varied as their appearances.

Some were entirely neutral and unbothered, clearly not understanding why this particular newcomer would be more attention catching than any other. Their perspective was admirable, especially when it manifested as polite friendliness, Ginger gladly returning every greeting that came his way.

Others... were more hesitant.

The further into the village they ventured, the more instances of all out bewilderment there were around them. Many passersby just stopped where they stood to stare, some left frozen like this for ages as the unexpected pair moved past them, partially paralyzing traffic wherever they went. Shock was a near universal sensation from those who reacted at all, but what followed varied greatly.

Some were too uncomfortable to keep looking. A few were afraid. Both reactions inevitably culminated into the one experiencing them trying to scoot away unnoticed, just to not have to deal with these emotions anymore. Most were just ashamed, often deeply so. They wouldn't run, but they didn't have it in them to watch, either, staring away in unease. There were a few blips of enmity here and there, but none of them resulted in any escalation, thank Duck.

One near-murder because of someone being a hateful, bloodthirsty idiot is enough for today.

All the while, Ginger himself didn't appear to react much to anything going on around him, at least as far as any visible reactions went. He'd definitely noticed some passersby, glancing at the louder grumbles coming from the crowd, but he didn't act on them. Be it because of his personality or because of wanting to maintain a low profile, it was probably for the best.

He clearly didn't fully understand her inability to comprehend what he was saying, at least if the occasional comments were any sign. Keeping quiet and just not responding ought to have been enough of a tell, right? Sue certainly hoped so, and that he wasn't relying on her lack of responses for any decisions. It was a silly concern, and she knew that well, but, good Duck, did the current situation not make remaining stress free even about the dumb stuff easy in the slightest.

Eventually, they made their way over to the areas of Moonview Sue was growing familiar with, the crowd's reactions changing. Everything from earlier was still there, but now a few onlookers had walked over from the other parts of the village as the news spread.

Most of them were on the younger side and very curious about it all, but decidedly not all. The couple strands of genuine malice she'd felt from the crowd sent shivers down her back and fins, especially since she couldn't narrow down who these emotions came from exactly.

Also, shivers going down an injured fin hurt. Ow.

After turning another corner, Sue briefly paused at feeling the last emotion she would've expected to sense in these circumstances: excitement. Though, hold on, was this excitement towards Ginger, or—

Her answer buzzed in front of her face before she could even finish asking herself the question.

Basil had no business being as excited and happy as he was with how tense the situation all around him was, but for the good of everyone gathered, he didn't care one bit. He waved excitedly at Sue while holding the nameless brown caterpillar in his other stinger arm, the little one continually trying and failing to wriggle out of his dad's hold.

Hers wouldn't be the only attention Basil would end up catching, though. The bee's excited buzzing got Ginger to speak up as well, his voice sounding genuinely interested. Based on the insect's utter lack of reaction to the lizard, he likely had no idea who Ginger was, and for the better.

Way better, Basil's constant stream of buzzes and clicks eventually culminating in him handing his little one for the night kin to hold, taking the technicolor lizard by surprise if his eyes opening all the way for a moment were any sign. As surprising as that development was, Ginger went along with it, carefully holding the caterpillar and even scritching under their chin with one finger, much to the little insect's audible delight.

All the while, Sue went through the by now familiar motions, double checking the surface she was standing on to avoid the repeat of her past mishap. Extend left arm, tune out emotions, focus on—

So many people, so much attention, ugh!

Sue recoiled at her attempted telepathy, doubling over at how painful her brief attempt was, for her mind and fin alike. She felt she owed Basil clear communication because of what had happened, and here she was, left effectively mute again, the thought only filling her with more anxiety. Another try yielded largely the same results, except somehow even worse. It sent a wave of nausea to rock her body and made it feel like the wound on her front was simultaneously bleeding and burning, all for daring to try talking with a friend.

None of that, only more pain.

Feeling herself become the focus of many observers afterwards didn't help any, either. Sue had no idea what to do—couldn't really calm anyone down without linking up, but couldn't link up; hell, couldn't even tune out all the mental noise around her while keeping on walking. It was a lot; it was so much, her breath began to catch in her throat,

And then, buzzing right before her, and something warm and smooth on her left shoulder.

Prying her eyes open revealed Basil to be hovering in the air in front of her, his concern palpable from up close. Compound eyes made it impossible to make out what he was looking at exactly, but he'd clearly noticed the bandages around her fin at some point, pointing towards it with one stinger before buzzing out a question. She was in no shape to answer, but Ginger was, his flat response only leaving Basil more concerned.

And determined.

And this time, also more mindful, making him stop himself right before he tried dragging Sue anywhere again. He wasn't an expert at nonverbal communication with anyone outside of his kin, but he could try, just to make sure his friend was alright. He pointed a disarmed stinger at her head, then made a smooth line between it and his head, then pointed at the injury while shaking his head.

Right, I can't do this, not in this state. Guess I'll just have to make do like this for a while...

Sue gave the bee a slow, begrudging nod, his acknowledgment immediate and confirmed by Ginger. The realization brought on a bit of sorrow, though not for any selfish reasons, as evidenced by the unusually-slow-by-Basil's-standards hug that followed. It may have been a bit uncomfortable because of bringing even more emotions closer to her injured body part, but it was very appreciated all the same. "Thank you, Basil..."

No understanding, but a cheerful nod.

By the time he was done, a quick glance around made it clear that some of the excess attention had crept away from the scene. Many onlookers were no doubt disappointed to see the nefarious and wicked night kin... play with a baby insect in his arms instead of… whatever it was he was supposed to be doing.

His jokes might not have been the most well timed, but he was undefeated at peek-a-boo.

As Sue took that adorable scene in, she felt something warm and smooth bump into her left hand, a quick glance revealing it to be one of Basil's stingers. If him doing it again a few more times afterwards was any sign, it seemed to be an intentional gesture, though what it implied wasn't... comfortable to imagine.

I like you a lot Basil, but I'm not sure that grabbing stingers barehanded is a good idea...



Then again, he probably knows that better. Maybe it's high time to just trust him instead of assuming I know more about his body than he does.

While Sue reeled from the self-critical part of her mind smacking her with a baseball bat, her free hand took the bee up on his offer. His stinger was as firm as its appearance made it look like, the chitin threading the needle between being too rough to be comfortable and too smooth to hold on to safely.

Alright, yeah, walking with a support was easier, and probably necessary with how much her attempts at telepathy had drained her. And it made Basil very happy, which was the most important thing.

Once Sue was confident in her grasp, the bee hovered over to ask the lizard something while staying close enough to keep providing constant support. Ginger's answer was a verbal equivalent of a shrug paired with the physical equivalent of a shrug—namely, a shrug. Neither of the two knew how to proceed from there for a while, the deadlock broken through with a snap of the lizard's fingers and a short, trilled response.

Their new pace was even slower than before, but neither Ginger nor Basil cared much, the former still playing with the caterpillar in his arms. The lil' insect's occasional drawn out squeaks had his dad break into buzzed laughter each time, followed by his typical flood of excited words.

Things were good. The baby was happy. Nobody was freaking out.

While the two men chatted amongst themselves about something Sue couldn't quite figure out, she glanced over at the nearby construction site and the being closest to her. The bulk of the hut was done by now, with only the roof missing anymore. And, if the small mound of off-red tiles beside the building was any sign, the roof was exactly what was being worked on at the moment.

It seemed to be just Granite that was working on it, though. A glance further into the clearing determined the rest of the builders' team to have already started work on the next hut, all of them anywhere from elbow to entire-body deep in the foundation work, depending on their height.

They really build these fast, huh.

Placing roof tiles unsurprisingly didn't turn out to be any more exciting to watch than expected, even if it was being performed by a four-armed gray non-human made of what looked like pure muscle. Right as Sue was about to look away and let her gaggle of acquaintances resume their walk while turning her thoughts towards wondering just how many tons could Granite deadlift, something odd caught her attention.

There was a small pile of five tiles within the reach of the four-arms'... lower pair of arms, reduced to two right after he took a few off the top. As she turned her head to look away, she spotted... something small, pitch black, and very misshapen at the very bottom of her vision, sending her inner ear into haywire—and then, the next thing she knew, she was blinking her daze away, Basil buzzing at her in concern. The... whatever she saw was nowhere to be seen.

I'll probably need another checkup soon, huh.

Granite's low voice distracted her from that train of thought, the remaining tiles gone all of a sudden. All of two tiles going missing didn't justify more than a bit of annoyance, and that's where Granite's emotions were at as he looked over his shoulder, about to speak up at their little group—and froze, together with Ginger.

The abrupt shift made Sue gulp nervously, the gray giant's mind still stunned in shock. Though, if Ginger's equally surprised reaction was anything to go by, it wouldn't stay so for good. And if something bad were to happen, she'd be powerless to stop them—

...

She had no idea Granite could be this loud, but it was only fitting.

In an instant, the builder was off the ladder and dashing over to Ginger, surprise giving way to elation, bright and warm, manifesting in a gregarious shout. Its suddenness took Sue and Basil aback, but the lizard himself seemed to have expected it, his usually flat expression shifting to the biggest, toothiest smile Sue had seen him give yet as he ran towards Granite.

As suddenly as the dash had started, it ended, the technicolor lizard's happiness giving way to shock and pause; a couple of warbled words and a raised hand conveyed the need to stop to the four-armed builder as well. Without waiting another moment, Ginger ran back up to Basil and handed his son back to him; the bee's question about what was happening cut off by the night kin resuming whatever had almost happened before—namely, a massive, tight hug from Granite.

Ginger's legs kicked the air as he was squeezed for all he was worth. The instant of concern for the lizard's well being that followed was abated once Granite had loosened up his embrace enough to let him breathe again, before Ginger returned the affection to whatever extent his comparatively shorter reach was capable of.

The sight of Ginger getting squeezed like a dog toy, including his eyes going comically wide for a moment, more than made up for his mistimed joke earlier.

The celebrations wouldn't end there, though, nowhere near. Granite followed his hug by shouting toward the rest of the construction crew, the call's effect immediate. One by one, the other builders, the absent Kantaro aside, scrambled over from the other site. The brown spiky pangolin, the bipedal rhino, the red metal... robot insect, the entire gang's here.

The entire gang was excited to see Ginger again.

Maybe there is hope after all.

Maybe things will be alright.




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 20: Heresy



Fortunately for Ginger's back, the other construction workers expressed their joy at his return in less... abrupt ways. That's not to say more affection wasn't present—the opposite, if anything. The bipedal rhino might've dwarfed the technicolor lizard to a comical degree, but the large high five the two soon exchanged left the gray one reeling much more than Ginger—at least, if shaking their hand off in pain was any sign.

The group's excited chatter was so loud that even if Sue had known their language, she doubted she'd be able to make out more than a few scattered words.

Granite got his hug, the rhino got their high-five, and the spiky brown pangolin got... a chest bump. Suppose that was the safest course of action considering their ridiculous claws and the many spikes covering their back. Once the two had finished that greeting, the pangolin kept talking as Ginger pulled up some of his loose skin. Their constant chitters grew louder and happier, culminating in them pulling the lizard into another hug.

Judging by his brief hissed remark and a chuckle, Ginger commented on it all with a joke—but that's not how it felt to the builders. Whatever he'd said, it left them sappier, their flare-up of joy getting dampened by sorrow even as they tried to keep their minds away from it.

That held true for everyone except for the red robot insect, keeping themselves towards the back of the group and remaining quiet until now. For a moment, Sue grew concerned, worrying that their colder reception was a prelude to Ginger receiving a heaping portion of bigotry from a bunch he'd clearly considered friends—

Which, thankfully, wasn't the case.

Soon after she'd noticed the metal one's silence, so did the rest of their group, proceeding introduce them and Ginger to each other. The curt handshake paled in comparison with all the other displays of affection earlier; still, it palpably put the robot at ease—only for something said shortly after to make them go wide-eyed and stare down at Ginger, their following question delivered in what sounded like highly compressed buzzes.

Someone needs their bitrate upped.

The moment of tension that followed didn't last long as the group kept talking amongst each other, the robot soon easing out around the night kin. As they cooled off, Sue glanced off to the side to check on how Basil was doing—only to find the spot beside her empty. The bee turned out to be in the middle of chatting with Birch in the crowd some distance away, the nameless caterpillar now in their other half's arms.

Red robot spoke up another question, catching Sue's attention again. Ginger perked up at whatever was just said, his answer slow and uncertain, as if he hadn't quite understood the question. Undeterred, the metal bug tried again, first pointing at Ginger's orange-red crest, then at... themself, and lastly at the pile of roof tiles nearby. Something about color, maybe? The tiles' shade was a coincidental match for the row of scales on top of Ginger's head, after all.

Regardless if that was the topic or not, Ginger's response made it clear it didn't matter either way. His answer was brief, ending with as large of a shrug as his lanky body could provide. Couldn't have been particularly in-depth, but the red metal one seemed to be content with it, acknowledging it with a nod.

That's one potentially awkward discussion resolved.

Following the metal bug's question, the chat continued to relax, excitement easing out into contentment. Sue's horn definitely appreciated that change in mood, its burning pain subsiding as the mood calmed down.

Everyone stay calm or I'm gonna get wildly uncomfortable.

The chatter continued once Basil made his way back, joining the group now that he'd emptied his arms. It was hard to follow what anyone was talking about, but it didn't matter—it wasn't Sue's chat to follow and partake in, after all.

As everyone else talked on, she took the opportunity to gather her bearings, rolling her shoulders and shifting her weight from side to side, trying to manage her exhaustion. The pit stop was much appreciated, even if a seat would've been preferred. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to stand beside the group looking dumb—or at least dumber than usual—for much longer.

Ginger's raised hiss tackled Sue out of that worrisome train of thought, the once-human following the lizard's eyeline into the crowd to find Willow on its other end. The sight brought the builders' no less joy than it did her, and everyone who could speak was chiming in to pass greetings over to the medic.

Their response wasn't very reassuring.

Past proximity let Sue just barely pick Willow's aura out of the passersby. They were understandably on edge, either in the middle of or about to grab supplies to treat Sundance's injury. That much was perfectly understandable, and nobody was about to pull them into a spirited discussion with their duties on the line, of course. It was what followed that unnerved Sue in particular, a sudden mid-step shift in their mood once they'd looked toward the builders.

Surprise. Reassurance.

Shock. Fear. Alarm.

The emotional change was so abrupt it almost made the medic trip then and there, and again after they'd looked away and upped their pace, not even acknowledging the group's greetings. Sue didn't want to assume anything; there were many reasons for a response like that, but it left her feeling a bit... worried.

Thankfully, she wouldn't be left to stew in those unpleasant emotions for too long, Willow's uncertain reaction evidently prompting Ginger to get a move on. He caught Sue's attention with a pat on her free arm and pointed further into Moonview's streets. Basil wasted no time in resuming his helpful spot from earlier, flying beside her.

As the crippled Forest Guardian and the helpful bee prepared to move, the technicolor lizard did one last round around the builders' team. Predictably, him having to head off only sparked further questions, most of them of the unnerved sort.

Figures when it's the first time they'd seen their friend in years, and now he has to get going after just a few minutes...

He couldn't answer all the questions, but he could give a broader statement or two. The first one left the group rather somber, and the second perked them up again, especially as the lizard accompanied it by pointing toward the Newmoon path—she could almost hear trip plans start clicking together in the builders' heads.

With the last couple goodbyes and Sue grabbing Basil's stinger for support, the trio of various mobility headed off from the construction site. The team they'd left behind took a long while to resume their usual work following... that, not that Sue could blame them. To various extents, they all felt like they'd seen a ghost. An actual ghost, not… Hazel ghost.

Not literally dead, but in a social sense... yeah, pretty much dead.

Ginger continued to catch passersby's attention as the group pushed through the streets and narrow paths, but less and less of it each time. Suppose everyone who cared enough to gawk at a night kin in Moonview had already done so, leaving folks that either weren't aware of the significance of Ginger's presence, or just didn't care.

There wasn't much point in trying to distinguish the two. Either option was fine, as far as Sue was concerned.

A few more minutes of mostly silent marching later, they had finally ended up at their intended destination—Poppy's stall. Seems she's been at it for long enough for Ginger to be well aware of the sheer quality and quantity of the goods she could fix up on a whim, which didn't surprise Sue in the slightest.

Hopefully Poppy falls in either the 'doesn't know' or 'doesn't care' group; my stomach's starting to complain.

The truth wouldn't be revealed for a while longer, however, with Hazel ghosting the counter this time. Poppy, meanwhile, was little more than a blur in the back of the kitchen, seemingly in the middle of putting together no less than three meals simultaneously. The sunset's faint light didn't make it easy to tell just what exactly she was fixing, especially with Hazel's grunted greeting interrupting Sue's focus.

Sue felt mischief briefly spike in the ghost's mind at seeing her, but absolutely nothing when Hazel's attention had shifted onto Ginger. She was endlessly grateful for the lizard to have picked up the hassle of ordering, muttering something to himself as he examined the menu above him before passing a short order on. With the hissed description forwarded, Ginger focused on the fairy cook, eyes narrowing as if he was leering at her.

Eventually, the not-leer died down, Ginger's body language slumping afterwards. His usual grimace was hard to read, but the expression that followed felt... sad, in a way. Sue wasn't even sure whether he was actually feeling down or if it's just her reading too much into it, but she figured that some reassurance wouldn't hurt.

She carefully let go of Basil's stinger while looking around for an appropriate part of Ginger's body to use for some patted affirmation. The loose green skin covered most of his back and shoulders, discounting them as options, which left... his thin arms, maybe. Not too much surface area, especially with Sue's current hands being substantially larger than they used to be, but she hoped her support would be understood, regardless.

*pat pat*

Nope, didn't work.


Fortunately, Ginger hadn't interpreted the gesture negatively, instead just staring at her, confused. Since that one didn't work, Sue figured to try out something else—anything to convey reassurance.

A thumbs up, maybe?

Her hand was still capable of that gesture, even if it looked really awkward with two fewer fingers to offset the sticking thumb. It didn't elicit any reaction either, leaving her worried about possibly seriously screwing things up by now, or even accidentally offending him—

...or neither.

The gesture came off silly with how small his paws were, but it was still unmistakably an attempt at returning her thumbs-up. A very confused attempt, Ginger's expression looking less reassured and more like it was trying to crack a dumb puzzle, but an attempt all the same.

Local multicolor lizards discovered to have mirror neurons, more at elev—

*eeeeEEEEE!*


The squeak was sudden and deafening, the entire trio in front of the stall jumping in response. Before they could even figure out what had just happened, the cook was already on the move, tossing the three bowls in her arms in the air as she ran out of the pantry. Sue didn't even have the time to process said bowls landing on the nearby counters with perfect grace, not a single piece of their contents spilling out, the pink blur's arrival cutting off her rattled brain.

And once Poppy got there, there were no survivors.

Her squeeze was somehow as strong as Granite's from earlier, the sound that left Ginger at the hug almost like a dog toy. And the fairy wouldn't even stop there, still holding the lizard tight as she took off into a pirouette. She maintained balance through magics unknown as she spun, barely avoiding smacking either of the other two with her flailing friend.

If not for the bright joy going through Poppy's mind, Sue would've almost thought she was about to pile drive or toss Ginger. A few spins later, she let go of him, his eyes spinning as he desperately tried to maintain balance to the backdrop of Poppy's twinkly laughter. Or at least, initially twinkly, the fairy's laugh growing louder and more bellowing once she'd spotted everyone's confused expressions.

That's right Hazel, for once it's someone else laughing at your expense.

Once Ginger was no longer at risk of having spinning cartoon stars spontaneously appear above his head, he could respond to the sudden greeting with his own. Regardless of what was said, it clarified exactly nothing for Hazel. The prankster joined in the group after phasing through the counter, massive eyes and cartoonish mouth conveying her confusion in perfect clarity. And then, her fluster once Poppy had snuck in a smooch on her cheek.

The assorted onlookers had recovered from Poppy's outburst enough by then to react to the fairy's follow-up. The chorus of Basil's buzzes, Ginger's hisses and Sue's laughter conveyed their amusement at the ghost's embarrassment, bringing forth shame to the shameless.

Good.

Poppy wouldn't even wait for her wife to finish recovering before introducing their impromptu guest, her pink arm wrapping around Ginger's shoulders as the other pointed at him with pride and fondness, in gestures and thoughts alike.

As cranky as Hazel might've been after being put on the spot for once, her wife's burning enthusiasm helped immensely in melting through any unpleasant emotions, interest slowly creeping in to replace them. Not straightforward interest, of course—that wouldn't fit her image at all. Instead, it was an interest that feigned disinterest, maybe even mockery, choosing questions carefully to piece things together without appearing too curious.

...

Her injury might've made her horn sting like mad when Sue focused in on what the surrounding people were feeling, but goodness, it could manage some impressive feats, especially now that she'd had a bit of practice. And she didn't even need to link up with others, she just... felt it all. Multiple tuggings overlapping, interest and insecurity combining into secondary and tertiary emotions. Three basic colors mixing to create a painting, a handful of tones coming together to form a symphony.

It all just made sense to her. For better or worse, she was getting used to this.

The abrupt shift in mood at one of the fairy's lines took Sue out of her pondering. A glance at the rest of the group revealed Basil's and Hazel's shock, the latter much more subdued, Poppy's exasperation, and Ginger's... nothing she could sense. Poppy's groan might not have clarified much on its own, but once she'd explained something to the massive bee, the atmosphere began to loosen up.

Seems a couple of someones only now figured out just what this half-rainbow creature is, pffft.

As exaggerated as Basil's startle was, it didn't take long for it to die down. It first turned into pensiveness, and then determination as the bee hovered towards the lizard, buzzing something directly at him. Ginger's responses sure didn't sound spirited either way, his expression offering nothing to go off. Guess as shocked as Basil was, Ginger didn't care much? The exchange of bows that followed was probably some sort of formal greeting—

*tap tap*

Huh?


The taps on Sue's free arm made her glance towards where they'd come from. Somewhat predictably, she saw nothing, leaving Sue blinking a few times in confusion before looking back—

Just to see Hazel's grimace from up close, shaded as if only lit up from below, and with no sound to accompany it.

Aside from Sue's own subsequent shriek of fear, at least.

She tried to dash back out of reflex, her flight response acting out despite her dysfunctional leg. In moments, she was falling, only able to hear her own racing heart, too paralyzed to move—just in time for Basil to circle around her and stop her fall.

A loud grunt left him as the flat sides of his stingers supported her back, the bee managing to straighten her out despite his smaller size. Hazel's laughter filled Sue's ears as she worked through all the Astonishment in her system, her body gradually unclenching to the tune of a fresh new argument between the spook and the insect.

Poppy might've been amused and Hazel might've been oh-so-proud of herself, but Basil was very, very annoyed. His buzzes and clicks kept rising in volume as the prankster brushed his words aside, again and again. Their discussion kept growing in volume, Basil's disarmed stingers swinging from side to side in increasingly animated ways.

The cook just found it all funny.

Sue, meanwhile, was of half a mind to get back at Hazel, briefly considering repeating her accidental attack on Basil but on the ghost instead, and very deliberately this time. A terrible, messed-up idea, and she knew it well. It was something that would cast a serious shade on her as a person, but she was much too drained by today to keep her emotions in check, every little bit of emotional exhaustion burning up into anger—

Thankfully for everyone around, Ginger knew just what to do.

Before either side of the argument could react, the lizard grabbed the backs of both their heads and bonked them together, single-handedly redirecting their combined ire onto him. Ire, and attention, Ginger using the latter by speaking up to both of them.

If what she'd seen of Newmoon was representative, he had some experience with dealing with superpowered creatures getting angry at each other from time to time, and whatever he'd said, it seemed to work. Basil and Hazel alike kept deflating for a while, emotions cooling by the moment—at least, until Ginger put the ghost on the spot again. Try to defend herself as she might, Ginger's barrage cut through Hazel's every excuse, much like Willow's from a few days ago.

Roast her ghost ass.

Eventually, Hazel finally relented, not feeling good about any of it. Thankfully for her and Sue alike, she wouldn't be forced to apologize to her victim again. Instead, she grumbled to herself before... collapsing underground in a very literal way, phasing downwards until she was entirely out of view.

Must be nice, being able to throw a hissy fit and just disappear literally anywhere like that.

The mood of the rest of the group was... uneasy to put it lightly, though Sue was too wound up to pay much attention. Poppy had gone from elated, to amused, to now worried, Ginger's reassurances not helping much. Basil clearly didn't enjoy how Ginger had broken up his earlier spat either, one stinger reaching up and rubbing the area of the unintentional headbutt as he floated over to Sue.

Sue had no idea what exact words he'd just vocalized, but a pretty solid hunch of what he meant by them. "I-I'm okay Basil, don't worry. What's up with her, I-I swear to Duck..." she muttered, unnerved. Her still sticking to that name probably constituted a grave heresy of some sort—though considering her last interaction with said deity had Her melt her brain over something that didn't end up mattering at all, she didn't care.

Not that Night Father had been all that useful either—

*w-woof, woof?*

Oh no.


The barks were well familiar by now, filling Sue's psyche with whiplash. Spark's physical presence was comforting as the fox got to nuzzling her leg and happily greeting Basil, but the once-human knew well that this was going to be a very transient relief. The lil' vixen wasn't despairing, but she was palpably confused.

She must've not known yet, but was already suspecting something.

"H-hey Spark. I'm—I'm sorry..." Sue whimpered, the somber sound not reassuring Spark any.

Her woofs grew a bit more insistent afterwards, the occasional questions Sue could make out accompanied by hints of distress. She had no way of responding to these, and Spark knew that. The tension of being put on a distressing spot like that threatened to sink her into a new emotional low—but, once more, Ginger intervened.

His voice was much lower than before, his body language slumped and expression the most distraught Sue had seen him be yet. With a couple of growls, he caught Spark's attention, and with a couple more, everyone else's, too. Their combined shock left Sue feeling unwell—especially as it changed into something much worse.

Spark's barks turned quiet and squeaky as panic gripped her tiny body. She immediately ran up to the night kin lizard, barking non-stop. His hisses helped little, a look around not seeing any of the medics or the wounded Sundance.

There was one obvious spot for her to have ended up at, though, and both Sue and Spark realized it at around the same time.

The kit wasted no time before taking off into Moonview. Ginger's startled growl in her direction was cut off by Sue passing by moments later, the Forest Guardian following in Spark's footsteps at whatever pace she was capable of. Her body was sore, her horn smarted like a motherfucker, the negative emotions around her amplified the pain, but the adrenaline cruising through her system offset it all—adrenaline, and the desire to comfort a terrified child.

Sue could almost navigate these few streets from memory. Turn to the left, then another, a few buildings forward, then to the right. Straight on for a decent stretch, left turn again, and there it was.

Willow's clinic.

Spark's distraught howl reached the other two before they'd even turned the last corner, the sound freezing the blood in their veins. Sue pushed on, sheer focus dulling everything but the fox's sadness out. She'd only barely squeezed through the clinic's door frame as she caught up with the fiery cub, the sight inside equal parts sad and reassuring.

Sundance hadn't gotten any worse in the meantime, breathing deeply in her coma. The former couldn't be said for Spark, though. Twin streams of tears ran down her cheeks as she scrambled up onto the bed, nestling in next to her wounded mom. She kept constantly barking at her, with pain, fright, and worry mixing in her every plea.

Even despite Solstice's previous reassurances that the older fox would be alright, the sheer misery radiating from Spark made Sue doubt it. It could've easily just been infectious emotions, virulent despair, but that awareness didn't make them any less effective. Especially when combined with Sue's utter exhaustion.

Please make it, Sundance, please...

Steps approaching from behind cut her idle prayer off, their particular aura familiar enough by now to not even have to look. She cleared the path for Willow with a side step, only now realizing that Ginger had followed her in at some point. The medic greeted her on autopilot as the entirety of their unnerved focus redirected towards the situation on the bed. Willow's words wavered, straining to sound as comforting as they were capable of.

Thankfully, even pretend calm was enough to reach Spark. The medic's reassurance, combined with their gentle pets, gradually worked its way through the fox's panic. At one point, they went quiet and guided the lil' fox right towards her mom's front, to the exact spot that would make listening to her heartbeat and breaths the easiest. Beat by beat, the little one slowly eased out, coming to grips with what had just happened, panic dulling into sorrow.

In any other circumstances, Willow choosing to move the entire bed instead of asking Spark to hop off so they could reach Sundance's back would've been hilarious to Sue, but... not now.

Not like this.

The actual physical injury was barely noticeable from just a couple of meters away, looking less like something that had almost killed her and more like the result of an annoying knife mishap. To think she'd almost died at that moment, to think Solstice had almost died, that she would've certainly died if she was standing only half a step forward…

Sue felt anger grip her again. At Juniper, at this entire nightmare that she was risking life and limb to help untangle, this mess of old wounds, grudges, and xenophobia, one with what felt like no answers, especially right now.

One she had to fix on her own.

Sniffling coming from the bed mellowed Sue's raging emotions, her desire to comfort Spark brighter than ever. Her muscles complained as she forced herself to move. She kept her grunting in, lifting her crutch off the ground for the umpteenth time, pushing toward the vixen one painful step at a time. She had no words; that much was neither unexpected nor new. But what she had was touch and comfort, and Spark needed as much of those as she could provide.

Low purrs, slowing breath. Despite everything, she was helping.

Even if Spark herself was too busy to acknowledge her gestures, Willow did, offering her a tired smile and a weak nod as they reapplied the bandages. It was at that point, though, that they noticed Ginger again. Their reaction was the same, a discouraging, cold startle.

Sue deeply hoped it wasn't what she feared it was.

Ginger left the clinic soon after, taking away the source of that unpleasant sensation, but not ending it altogether. Discomfort kept churning inside of Willow's head. If Sue wasn't battered, mentally drained, and physically exhausted, she might've even tried to link up and investigate just what had happened.

Instead, she just gave Spark one last pat and followed Ginger out.

He was waiting for her just around the corner, leaning against the nearby building with an unpleasant, pensive expression. Once he'd noticed her, he conveyed a new direction for them to walk towards with a tilt of his head as he straightened out. Thankfully, he had enough manners to match her ever-slowing pace.

The looming sunset bathed Moonview in a fierce orange light as they headed eastward, shadows growing even longer by the moment. Sue had no idea where they were going or why, too exhausted to do much thinking anymore. Everything she'd seen so far today made her hope beyond hope that this was it, that nothing else terrible would happen.

Before she knew it, there was a warm wetness on her cheeks. A couple of stray tears welled on her chin and eventually splashed against her horn, the resulting cold shocks forcing her to stop. It took Ginger a hot minute to notice, the lizard lost in his own thoughts. Once he did, he walked over to her, checking up on her to whatever extent he was capable of. Which was almost nothing, but even him pausing and waiting for her to get better was very appreciated, more than he'd ever know.

Just have to focus and make it through the rest of today. Just have to make it through. Just have to—

"Ginger?"

Solstice's voice was the single most comforting sensation Sue could've asked for at that moment, making her shamble a couple of steps toward the older Forest Guardian upon hearing it. The Mayor wasn't doing much better than her, though. Unkempt hair, glistening eyes, shaking posture—even the blue tattoos seemed more washed out than usual, though that might've just been the lighting.

"Eyyyup," Ginger nodded, sighing. "Figured I might use the opportunity to look around, y'know—doubt I'll ever get one again. Went to meet some old friends. See what everyone's been up to, how Moonview has grown and such. Don't worry, I'll be heading out soon. Just want to check on one last thing."

Solstice responded with a shaking nod. She was clearly unsure about the whole idea, but by now it was much too late to say no. What happened, happened, and there was nothing anyone could do. "Alright. I suppose that's only fair for your help. Are you feeling okay, Sue?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

No, of course she wasn't, and they both knew that. "I-I'll manage," Sue sidestepped the question, grasping her crutch even tighter. "H-how are you holding up?"

They both also knew that this was a question better left unanswered. "Sundance has gotten medical attention, at least," Solstice sighed. "Has anyone told Spark—"

"Yep, she ran into us and I had to explain what Juniper did. She's cuddled up to Sundance now, over at the clinic," Ginger explained, wincing at the recent memory.

Even trying to imagine all the pain the entire situation must've brought upon the little fox sent shivers down Solstice's back. She was relieved, deep down, that it wasn't her who had to pass the dire news on. "Alright," she weakly nodded. "Thank you for that, Ginger."

"Ain't no problem."

Sue could only stare as Solstice chewed through it all, so many thoughts swirling inside her head that it was difficult to make out anything more precise than general distress. Might as well just get this done with. "Lead the way, Ginger," the Mayor instructed.

"Sure thing," he answered, his voice flat and tense, a marked contrast compared to when Sue'd first interacted with him in Newmoon. Suppose that with everything that had happened, there was only so much stress one could cover up, no matter how hard they tried.

Sue was too weak to try anymore, Solstice too weak to stop trying.

The two Forest Guardians slowly followed the technicolor lizard through the streets, the density of passersby shrinking as the sun set. For better or worse, their destination wasn't too far. The Mayor was taken aback as she realized where Newmoon's leader was heading, a cold emotion filling her mind at the realization. Not fear, though.

Shame.

Sunset lit up Duck's graven depiction, the shadows of nearby buildings gradually creeping along the bases of the three walls of the monument surrounding the elevated altar. Despite everything, despite Sue's internal mockery towards the deity in question, seeing Her be depicted like this, having Her likeness come to life with the brilliant orange light... it was stunning.

Ginger's focus wasn't on the central wall bearing Duck's likeness, though—precisely the opposite. "Wait, where'd—no… No, you didn't..."

The lizard's words were the most shocked Sue had heard him speak yet, genuinely taken aback in the way she didn't think he was capable of. It only made them sting more, for Solstice and, by proxy, Sue alike. Despite the shrine no longer depicting his deity, Ginger still took his time approaching, putting more care into that than into seemingly anything else, ever.

Sue didn't know what he would do and mostly didn't want to know. Even as utterly non-hostile as the lizard had been so far, her heartbeat still sped up; she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Thankfully, Fate offered her a fleeting distraction.

*whiiiiistle!*

The familiar sound perked Sue's spirit up more than she'd thought anything was capable of. A look away from the unfolding scene at the monument revealed Lilly to be pushing a cart of fruit off in the distance with one arm, the other waving over at her. Even if she couldn't come over and comfort her directly, just having her around helped more than the leafy dancer could've known, her sight alone bringing back some of the accompanying relief in Sue's memories.

A small, shaky smile crept onto Sue's face as she began waving back with her free hand, the farmhand returning the gesture even more intensely—for a brief moment, at least.

Sue could only barely make the rough growl out from the din of the village, but its effect was clear to see. Lilly flinched as if struck, freeze giving way to hurriedly pushing the cart along. Root came into view next to where she'd been standing soon after, the purple spots around his neck aglow. The Forest Guardian had no idea what the hell was his problem, but was much too distraught and intimidated to act on that annoyance.

Especially after he turned towards her, red eyes glowing dimly in the distance as they stared straight at her.

Straight through her.

Sue reeled back at that sight, hurriedly looking away, just in time to see what Ginger had been up to. He was inspecting one of the side walls of the monument, the one that Sue could by now figure out to be implying protection from the dark.

Protection from the night kin.

It wasn't its front face that the lizard was focused on, though. One paw was reaching behind the stone slab, brushing along the monument's back face. He need not have spoken for his expression to tell everything, the wide-eyed surprise giving way to a quiet confirmation.

Guess I was right. Night Father's monument didn't just disappear into thin air.



Why did I have to be right.

It was hard to even look toward Solstice anymore, the shame at everything she'd done and facilitated that led to this unsightly discovery burning a hole in her mind. A goring, gangrenous mental wound, off-putting to even be near.

Before it could grow any further, the last thing anyone around wanted to see cut it off. As Ginger inspected the side wall's back face, its shaky foundation started to give at the modicum of force being applied to it. The massive slab leaned forward, making both Forest Guardians gasp—

"Woah woah woah, easy there—*ugh!*" Ginger grunted. He didn't look like he'd have even the fraction of the strength needed to just grasp the side of the stone slap and keep it from collapsing the manual way, but that's precisely what he then did. "There ya go, there ya go. Sorry for all that, my bad."

Even if the slight wavering in Ginger's voice would have only corresponded to being slightly unnerved for anyone else, by the lizard's standards it was outright freaking out, and Sue couldn't blame him one bit. It was only afterwards, once she began to calm down, that she even realized how fast it and the Mayor's hearts were racing to begin with.

Crisis averted, thank Duck.

The sheer tension made it hard to even exhale a sigh of relief. It wasn't the only obstacle to trying to relax though, with the second, arguably even larger one, announcing his presence with a loud, harsh growl.

Root's entire collar was ablaze now, the eerie purple flames seemingly not hurting the fiery badger at all. As harmless as the inferno around his neck was, that couldn't be said for his expression, teeth bared as fury and shock mixed on his snout, eyes going wide only to narrow right on the intruder night kin, the words that followed harsh and left untranslated. Probably for the best—

A motion in the corner of her eye made Sue glance over and freeze, her breath stuck in her throat.

As Ginger stared at the shouting priest, the slab he'd just secured began to lean away from him, too slowly for anyone to notice. There was nothing Sue could do but stare, stare as the side wall collapsed despite Ginger's best efforts to stabilize it.

Stare at the heresy's destruction.

*BANG!*

The deafening sound rocked the entire clearing and rooted everyone present, their hearts all skipping a beat as they turned to face its source, and saw the errant slab shattered on the grassy dirt, having fallen away from the altar on its own.

Both Root and Solstice were too shocked to so much as peep, but that didn't extend to Ginger, the lizard immediately stepped forward to assess the damage, muttering to himself. "Oh... fuck. Three, four... five larger pieces, several small ones. Shit. Mortar would prolly work, but would need to be careful. I need to get to Kantaro, she'll know what to do, she made it—"

"H-he," Sue interjected, heart still racing.

Her words derailed Ginger's train of thought for a moment before he continued, "He, right. Need to fetch him then, he'll know—KANTARO!"

Ginger's sudden shout combined with a wide-eyed look at the gathering crowd left most everyone staring at the blue beetle that was pushing his way to the front. He stared slack-jawed at the scene, yellow eyes jumping back and forth between Ginger and the wrecked side wall of the monument, the former catching up with him quickly.

"Kantaro, need help with that," the lizard explained, stress dripping from his voice. "Figure you either built it or helped, have any ideas on how to piece it together? Counted five larger pieces and a bunch of tiny ones. Think mortar will be enough?"

Kantaro could only force out a single word as he stepped forward a few steps, using whatever remaining sunlight to get a better view of the freshly destroyed side wall. "Ginger..." he began, before cutting himself off. No, this discussion wasn't needed—he's had an exact plan for what to do in this situation since the very moment he'd applied the final strike of the chisel on these two cursed slabs. "No," he finally spoke, voice no more than a low growl. "That heresy wasn't worth the stone it was carved on. Good riddance."

The fiery badger was only now recovering from the sheer shock of watching his sacred shrine be defiled like that, stunned silence giving way to fury. In an instant, the collar of fire around his neck went from nonexistent to overwhelming, each individual flame almost the size of his head. The burning heat drove most onlookers away, Sue, Solstice, and Ginger included—but not Kantaro.

The beetle stared his boss in the eyes even as he drew closer to overheating, body beginning to shake. Only upon seeing that did Root's fiery collar wane, shrinking even if the ferocious, downright feral grimace remained. Ginger immediately ran up to his friend to check on him afterwards, the beetle's reassuring grunt that followed too quiet to make out.

"Begone."​

Root's command was brief and striking; Sue left wanting to run for the hills even with it having not been aimed at her. Ginger fared better, thankfully. He glared at the priest as he straightened himself out, their eyes locking in tension once more.

"Don't have to tell me again."

Ginger spat at the ground in front of Root, the ordinarily insulting gesture made even more potent by the hissing and smoke that sprouted from the struck spot, as if the lizard had spat acid. And then, without any further ado, Ginger turned towards the Newmoon pathway,

And left.

Sue could only stare there as she and everyone else watched Ginger leave in silence. And with him, any remaining sunlight, the darkness shrouding the scene quickly thickening with the light poles still unlit.

It was only many, many minutes later that a gentle touch on Sue's arm finally snapped her out of her dissociation, making her jump. She looked around the dark scene, unable to make out much beyond Solstice's dimly glowing eyes, especially as the rest of Moonview left, one by one.

"^Head over to my tent, Sue,^" Solstice instructed, her intent obvious with the bed of Willow's clinic occupied.

Sue acknowledged the request with a shaky nod and turned toward where she remembered the Mayor's tent being. For a moment, she waited for Solstice to get going beside her, about to ask her if she would be going with her before hearing Root's harsh growls from much close up, the sound urging her on.

Once last glance over her shoulder confirmed Sue's fears, the sight of Solstice wincing with Root's every snarled word stabbing the younger Forest Guardian's heart. A part of her wanted to help, wanted to intervene, to do something, anything—but there was nothing she could do.

And so, her conscious control came out on top, for once.

Before Sue knew it, she was completely alone in the dark. She could barely make out anything around her with the sunlight gone and the Moon being little more than the narrowest of slivers. A part of her wanted to stop, but the rest hated that idea wholeheartedly, wanting to keep going and not stop until she was as far away from what had happened today, from the altar, from Root, as possible.

The more her mind dwelt on it all, on everything she'd seen, the more it felt like the Night Mother was the evil one of the two. Or, at the very least, attracted evil. Sue wanted to chuckle grimly at the realization, to laugh at the banal, cruel twist of irony in the healing deity being the manifestation of all evil in this world, at the Moon being the fucking Satan—

But she couldn't.

Because Solstice was there, too.

The internal conflict brought no relief and no release, the tension only growing whenever she tried to think through it all. There was no laughter to be had, no absurdity of the cosmos to be mocked or cherished, no barrel to live in and lecture at a passing emperor from.

It all just fucking hurts.

The sudden change of lighting nearby snapped Sue back to awareness. Crackle's obscured body flew from lamp post to lamp post, leaving purplish balls of flame behind. Even if he'd noticed her, Sue wasn't in the mood to talk much, not even acknowledging his presence as she pushed onward, Solstice's tent just up ahead.

Its inside was much smaller than Sue remembered it being. The artificial light didn't do nearly as good of a job of penetrating through the thin walls as natural sunlight, leaving the small space almost completely pitch black. Sue needed to stand in place for a minute or two as her eyes got used to the absence of light, and even then, she only barely made out something to sit on nearby.

Something soft, with no back support, and very elongated.

The only question was whether this used to be Aurora's bed, or Jasper's.

The thought provided yet another gut punch to Sue's psyche. Her body curled up as she sat still in complete darkness, only putting in the very minimum of effort and placing the crutch down on the floor beside her. Before long, the quiet truly began to set in. A distant, muffled step here, a stray gust of wind there, her own breaths—none of them could even remotely dent the all-encompassing silence of her surroundings, the silence that saps all the other senses too, that leaves one only with their own innermost thoughts.

...

...

...

I fucked up.

The realization was as simple as it was piercing, forcing a wince out of Sue as if she'd stabbed herself with a knife.

I should've done something. Something to stop Juniper, should've suspected it would happen, shouldn't have tried to tag along with Sundance to begin with—

Each of these hurt more and more. Sue's teeth gritted as she doubled over, every single thought feeling like it was stabbing her insides.

It's my fault. It's all my fault.

...

...

...

It's over, isn't it?

For once, there was no pain, merely a release of tension. A blissful shroud of powerlessness, interwoven with despair.

I'm stuck here.

...

...

...

No, I don't deserve that—

Right as Sue's thoughts were about to descend into another twisted pathway, the flap of the tent was shoved open. The light it had brought with itself left Sue reeling and shielding her eyes as Solstice spoke, "^Apologies, Sue. Do you want me to light a small fire here?^"

Sue declined Solstice's question with a shake, slowly prying her eyes open again. She could barely make out the older Forest Guardian carefully lowering sleeping Comet into the small cot immediately beside her bed before she took a seat, her whole mind feeling shellshocked.

Not that Sue was doing any better.

"^Do you want me to grab you anything, Sue? Food, water, light?^" the Mayor asked again, and once more, Sue shook her head, only curling up tighter on her bedding. She was hungry and thirsty, but the last thing she wanted in the moment was to put the onus on anyone to fix these issues for her, not after everything that had happened today.

Solstice wanted to say something, to cut Sue off there and then, to not let that kind of self loathing keep building—and if she'd had any words that could help, she might've used them. "^In that case... good night, Sue. May She keep your rest peaceful.^"

Both of them knew there would be no rest to be had tonight.

Sue nodded on autopilot before lying down on what was little more than a bare, thin mattress, profoundly uncomfortable without a pillow. And yet, exactly what she deserved.

Even with Solstice and Comet so close to her, the tent felt no more alive than before, impenetrable silence returning to reclaim its rightful throne in Sue's mind. There weren't words that could adequately cover everything. So many things she wanted to say, to apologize for. Almost all of them were inane self loathing, and even her inane self loathing mind was well aware of that.

All but one, though. One that she couldn't discount. One point where she could've intervened. One chance to stop this day from becoming even more of a disaster.

"I'm sorry for letting Ginger in," Sue whispered; the individual sounds little more than rustles of individual leaves in the spring breeze.

"^You did nothing wrong, Sue,^" Solstice reassured telepathically. "^Neither did Ginger.^"

Sue expected that first non-reassurance, but the follow-up gave her a pause. Her stony, distraught expression was interrupted for the first time in ages as she lifted a single eyebrow, the Mayor's response coming not long after. "^It's not the fault of either of you. If we hadn't defiled the Night Father's monument to carve out more glory towards the Pale Lady, this wouldn't have happened. If we hadn't banished the night kin on supposedly the Pale Lady's behest, this wouldn't have happened. If my clan's teachings of Pale Lady hadn't spread here, this wouldn't have happened.^"

A long, uncomfortable silence lingered in the tent as Sue chewed on Solstice's words, a sniffle coming over from the Mayor's bed eventually interrupting it. "^Why must She be a tool of hatred...^"

Sue couldn't contribute even the slightest bit of food for thought at the older Forest Guardian's rhetorical question—but what she could do, however, was listen.

"^Hatred, and fear, and night kin oppression. Again, a-and again. It's not what She is, it was never what She was... and yet it turns out this way, again and again. I tried to intervene, to sway Moonview when I could; it felt like it was working, but—^" Solstice paused, sobs giving way to a drawn out whimper. "^I was too weak. No better than any of them, I... I made this happen. I made Her into a tool of hatred, again. She isn't that, She has never been that... but there's nothing I can do.^"

A choking silence, an absence of motion. Only her mentor's thrashing, painful aura let Sue know whether she was even awake anymore.

"^Maybe I am the fool. For thinking it all could ever be any different. For thinking She could ever be a symbol of love, of hope, of healing.^"

Minutes passed by in utter stillness, then hours. Sue remained awake by the sheer tension of it all, despite the rest of her body yearning for rest, however feeble. However strained. And once that tension came undone, once Solstice spoke for the final time tonight, the rest came crashing along with her words, claiming Sue's consciousness once more.

"^Maybe the Pale Lady I used to pray to every night is gone.^"


Sue's own breathing was deafening.

Her dreamed-up eyes fed sensory input to her dreamed-up mind, but she couldn't see. There were only blurs of color, haphazard and distorted, taking an eternity to sharpen into a coherent image. Her hands. Her legs. The bench. The gray sand. The campfire, consuming the world around her in a blazing inferno.

Her mom's guitar. Shattered. Bleeding. Disemboweled.

Sue looked up. The rueful Sun bled crimson and shone no light. The overwhelming noise of her breaths drowned all other sound as she stared into it, watching the blood build up on its bottom. A large red spot grew, then bulged out, and, finally, released a single drop, falling across the skies.

And splashing on the silver Moon, right in between its two deities.

Before Sue knew it, she wasn't breathing anymore, tattered mind forcibly put together as it stared through someone else's eyes. A single red speck marked the moondust separating Night Father from Duck, the two facing away from each other. Maimed, scarred.

Wrong.

Night Father's left arm was shattered, the inky blackness mangled with multiple cuts taken out of it. It hung limply, connected to the rest of His body by a single, dark thread.

Duck looked so much worse.

Countless scars covered Her radiant body and blue-gold dawn, individual wounds coming together into patterns reminiscent of Solstice's tattoos. Her right and back wings had been stabbed repeatedly, vandalized; the parts that weren't outright destroyed covered in thick webs of cracks. Only stubs remained of the left wing.

Open gashes ran along the crescent horns that flanked Her head, coming together to resemble a couple of symbols Sue'd seen in her dreams and around Moonview, their meaning unknown yet derogatory. Her throat was slit, blood the color of full Moon flowing down Her front and staining the pink of Her paws, dripping off onto the moondust below.

Earth shone a cosmic distance behind them both, white and blue, enveloped sevenfold by an Emerald Serpent for its protection. Above them all, the ever-living Sun. Its judging light barraged the unreal scene, casting harsh, pitch-black shadows.

Two of them on the lunar surface, near her point of view. One sprouted from around her point of view. A head with three points, each with a short strip of paper hanging off of it, giving way to a short body, and then a pair of flaps, fluttering slowly in the absence of air.

The other was being cast by something that didn't exist, by something she wasn't allowed to perceive. A head with three points, the side ones curved and with something circular hanging from them. A short body, tapering outwards. Disjointed arms.

Duck spoke first, Her voice as regal as ever—and immediately cut off by Night Father.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Tremors went through the lunar surface at His words, the shadows of the twinned observers not flinching even slightly. She spoke again, Her voice raised and pleading—and, again, discarded.

"I do not care for your apology. It is worthless to me."

A fissure streaked across the moondust behind them, breaking off into a web of cracks from horizon to horizon. Duck kept trying, regal voice tearing up with emotion, only for Her fear to be met with His anger.

"You have done nothing to earn my forgiveness. I doubt you ever will."

The horizon shrunk around them as fissures gave way to a thundering earthquake, the entire dreamscape gradually coming undone.

At last, Duck caved and turned around, Her divine body shaking as She leaned in His direction, panic dripping from Her voice. Whatever She'd said, it was enough to make Him snap and turn around to face Her, midday blue and sunset pink eyes gazing into one another.

"What do I want you to do, you ask!?"

His voice might've been furious, but Sue heard the tiniest seeds of a genuine plea in it, focusing all that was left of her mind on them as reality fell apart.

"Change. Can you do that, ████████?"

The last word was not meant to be known by mortal minds, flooding Sue's remaining awareness with the utmost grace and restoration of moonlight, Her grace, Her restoration. Her healing.

Instant by instant, the surrounding space faded into nothingness, the very forms of the deities shattering in front of Sue's vision. Just before they did, just before everything was gone, she saw the Pale Lady open her mouth and speak a single word—

And then, all faded into nonexistence, vanishing into squeaky, grating laughter.



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!​
 


Interlude III: Distance



For once, her escape had been swift enough.

The Windrider gradually slowed down to her equivalent of a casual stroll, relaxing from flying faster than all terrestrial beings ran to only flying faster than most of them ran. Her body was used to so much more than this, to velocities capable of killing many lesser creatures on their own from sheer inertia.

Alas, her age would only let itself be temporarily overlooked, but never forgotten.

Despite her relatively sluggish flight, she was still making progress towards the next stop on her journey, and that was all that mattered. Or at the very least, all she knew she should've been focusing on, on the mere fact of progress instead of fretting about its exact pace. Easier said than done.

...



Blast it.

The low thrum that left the dragon's throat went unheard above the calm waters, not a single fellow flier sharing the nearby afternoon sky. She thought she had remembered the direction to take, that her long sharpened sense of place in the world would let her find her way without any aid—and yet, she wavered, coming to a stop in the middle of a vast ocean.

She wasn't doomed, nowhere near. Even if she were to become truly lost, her return would merely be delayed until she made it to shore somewhere and then followed along with it. And that was the worst-case scenario—Latch's foresight made sure of that. Once the Windrider had stopped, she opened the thick canvas bag affixed to her red wings, telekinesis ruffling through the assorted junk until she'd pulled out a small, metal item.

She may have been living amongst the people of Golden Sky for over a century by now, and yet she felt just as distant from them and their inventions of brass and iron as when she'd first encountered them. If not for her and one of their greatest tinkerers having taken a liking to each other, she would've probably long since left them for good.

Even despite the accomplishment she thanked them the most for.

Discarding that thought, the dragon recalled her friend's instructions on how to use the supposed navigational tool. Two needles spun freely in its circular brass chassis, moving through a dense forest of unfamiliar symbols. The red, iron one always pointed south, a feat accomplished though means beyond the Windrider's comprehension. The green, silver one, however, pointed to a beacon at the location Latch had specifically arranged for to be her resting spot on her way back. It was a provision the dragon was equally grateful for, and worried by.

Was her diminishing strength that easy to sense?


The remainder of the Windrider's journey towards her resting spot was spent in annoyed silence, verbal and mental alike. She ignored her body's complaints, forcing them silent despite their best efforts—she hadn't even crossed into her sixteenth century yet; she couldn't let herself be overtaken by such minor annoyances. And so, she raced on, chill air staining her down with salt as she passed by any onlookers in a red and white blur, much too fast for most to even react before she was long gone.

Her destination was almost too small to even be called an island.

It was small enough for even terrestrial beings to be capable of running circles around it, she imagined. A tower of stone and brass took up a non-insignificant part of it, housing the beacon that had beckoned her over, as well as its singular maintainer. Surrounding it was a grove of trees small enough for one to see the base of the tower from the shore, and beyond that, only the unending ocean.

The mere existence of this structure so far from the continent baffled the dragon greatly. She'd listened to Latch's explanations of sea and air routes, of using these so-called beacons as safe refuges amongst the waves and as jumping-off points for further exploration, but none of it really stuck.

It felt useless to her, perhaps even cruel to the people forced to stay there and maintain the devices in solitude. She'd also heard something about these positions being voluntary, though, so maybe it wasn't as evil as it seemed? Something to ask Latch about once she'd returned, she supposed.

Following the custom of this culture, the dragon knocked on the tower's door with a modest application of telekinesis, her physical paws far too short to reach. The building remained silent as a grave, with only the shimmer of the calm waves washing against the shore gracing her ears—

"Greetings," a voice spoke from behind her.

Her sheer startle sent her flying to the top of the beacon, her hide erasing her from sight before she could even consciously react. Once her mind had overruled her instincts, she turned around, breathing deeply as she descended and examined the island's occupant.

She almost never encountered creatures truly new to her anymore, not after having circumnavigated the globe so many times—and the beacon keeper was no exception. Though, the only other times she'd seen their kin be depicted or described were as harbingers of death, otherworldly beings that killed with a single touch.

She doubted she had to worry about being touched, considering her swiftness. "^I greet thou in peace, specter.^"

Their singular red eye focused on her just as much as it focused on everything else nearby, what amounted to their expression unchanging. Not particularly emotive. Their head's light gray matched the color of their raised collar, giving way to a darker torso underneath. The yellow stripes across their body glowed dimly, with only the protrusion on their head being bright enough to be noticeable. "Our guest?" they asked, words echoing through open space.

"^That is indeed true, specter, but not by mine will,^" the Windrider explained, keeping her distance.

The ghost slowly nodded before turning their bulky body towards the entrance to the beacon's tower. "Inside, freshwater. Provisions. Firm ground," they explained, each word pronounced by a slightly different voice. "If questions, us answer. We 'Sun of Great Beyond'. You?"

Once more, silence returned to the scene, the dragon's expression remaining perfectly flat as her golden eyes scanned the area. The ghost understood the message, turning around and about to return to their previous spot, when they heard the dragon's telepathic voice again. "^Answer me such, Sun of Great Beyond. Dost thee not grow somber in loneliness?^"

Their answer echoed through the dragon's mind as they hovered away, phasing through the golden sand, "Not alone."

The ghost's words provided a quandary, but one the dragon was hardly interested in pondering deeply over. A simple press of the brass handle opened the way into the beacon's tower, the mechanism whining as if it hadn't been used in decades. Inside, as promised, was a sealed box of provisions. Among its contents were a wooden bottle of water, eagerly emptied, and several meals—Golden Sky's customary flat bread, sugared Lum preserve, and salted soybean curds in thick, peppery sauce.

Off-putting as their culture and people might have been, she couldn't deny them their culinary sophistication. Though she still wished their creations were less… intensely flavored, at times.

*ring, ring-ring*

Oh?

The high-pitched chime coming from the island's tiny pier made the Windrider turn around on the spot, spotting a hardly unfamiliar sight rearing from the waters. In most places, the blue-red jelly kin were known as nuisance at best, and ocean's malice made manifest at worst. Under the Golden Sky's reach, however, they were kelp harvesters, medicine providers, or simply marine couriers—and the latter seemed to be the case here.

Their gray tentacle was lowering a small brass capsule into the basket affixed to the end of the pier when they spotted her. Instead, they floated closer, flashing the red orbs on top of their body to catch the dragon's attention as they held the capsule high in the air for her to receive.

The Windrider took the package with a quick telekinetic grab, and a wordless exchange of nods later, the courier was back under the waters again. She watched the jellyfish's faint red light fade away as they followed the guidance of a thick underwater rope attached to the pier's end, connecting the tiny island with the nearest landmass.

Unsure what to do with the small capsule, the dragon flew back inside the beacon, intending to leave it for Sun of Great Beyond to read once they had returned. As she was placing it down, though, she took notice of the recipient field, a single symbol engraved in soft wax.

Latch's nickname for her.

Taken aback, she worked the capsule open, breaking its wax seal before unscrewing both halves. Inside lay a single tightly rolled sheet of the most common writing medium in Golden Sky, a dry paper made of seaweed that always felt more fragile than it actually was. As far as she was considered, the only reason they had stuck to it was because of the lack of a suitable alternative.

With the message taken out, she dumped all the metal parts into a large basket in the chamber's corner. One day, they would be transported back to Golden Sky and smelted to be reused in perpetuity, but the dragon neither knew nor cared about that.

At last, she unrolled the small page, the Golden Sky's emblem taking up a hefty chunk of it: a combined symbol of its ever conflicted twin deities, their inherent strife giving way to ingenuity, creativity, and invention, at least as far as the civilization folklore was considered.

Outer ring of solid gold, symbolizing Chaos.

Three silver stripes inside it, symbolizing Order.

The medium didn't convey their colors, but the iconography was so common inside the brilliant city that her mind had filled in the blanks. Underneath the grand seal, the words written in rushed, messy cursive:

V,
Assuming I planned it correctly, you'll get this at your rest on East Edge Islet! No worries if not, sadly I'll get to tell you everything in person, anyway.
Expedition was delayed!!
Aggravating beyond words. Sages mumbled something about The Twins being in particularly harsh conflict lately and some more of their usual vague warnings—can't care less, but the bookkeepers do and so another week to go. Just in time for you to get back!
I know you didn't want to go; you were clear enough about that, but another thing happened! Which I can't tell you about here! If we were to leave at our original date, I would've told you because you would really want to know but if the bookkeepers found out, they would have me buried in salt and I'm not risking that if I'm leaving late and can just tell you in person!
Just know that it's something VERY important and something you'll want to know about! But not as important as to have you skip your rest to fly over here! Not urgent! Important, not urgent! Eat, rest, take as much time as you need, V. The news will be waiting for you when you arrive!
I hope your pilgrimage hasn't had any more obstacles than usual!
Missing you dearly,​
╒═══════════════════════════════════╕
through this stamp, I attest to these words
having been written by me,

HIGH TRIUNE'S ADVISOR IN ARTIFICE
ELDER OF THE GOLDEN SKY'S MECHANISTS' GUILD
BARON, BY THE VIRTUE OF THE SUPREME TWINS
Great Latch of the Utmost Grand Gate
╘═══════════════════════════════════╛​



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 21: Freedom



Eventually, Sue woke up.

She had no idea when that happened, nor did she have much reason to care—not anymore, at least. There were a few details she could piece together without opening her eyes, and that's what she decided to focus on as a distraction.

She couldn't sense anyone else nearby, which meant that unless one of the night kin gave her an unexpected visit, she was alone. The faint glow that penetrated her eyelids told her that the sun was long risen. And, by extension, that she'd slept in hard. Suppose with the chaotic, mentally exhausting mess of yesterday that was hardly a surprise. Still, the awareness of her own laziness made Sue feel just that bit worse.

On top of all the other things she already felt horrible about.

I rushed straight into Newmoon like an idiot. Likely sabotaged their peace talks before they even began. Maybe—

The thought choked Sue up as she curled tighter on her bedding, thinking back to Spark's despair. To Sundance's grave injury. To the absolute clusterfuck of a mess that Ginger accidentally toppling a third of Night Mother's shrine would cause.

Maybe it's all my fault.

Maybe I really was meant to die when rescuing Spark and Pollux, and all this is a consequence of me being allowed to live.


The train of thought was immensely unpleasant to think about, even aside from the obviously horrible undertones. It was far from the first time Sue had considered ending it all, but she knew that, on a practical level, she didn't have the courage to do it. She was a coward through and through, one much too used to wallowing in her own pathetic misery to even consider freeing herself from it.

Through any means, not just the most drastic.

Her mind took its sweet time torturing itself, listing every way in which this could've been avoided. From things as simple as listening to Sundance like she should have, to her having just not showed up in this world in the first place. Sue had no way of knowing, of course, but suspected that if she hadn't been on that particular trip on that particular day, she wouldn't have ended up here.

If she had friends, any friends, hell even just acquaintances, literally anyone to just hang out with on that fateful day, regardless of if she liked them or not, just to do anything but keep pushing through an internet-addicted loneliness. Or had gotten herself a boyfriend already. Or had taken up a side job to pad out her savings some more instead of wasting time strutting through the woods at the ass end of Scotland.

If only I was just fucking normal.

Those thoughts didn't lead her anywhere and never would—Sue was well aware of that fact. Throwing a wrench into despair's ever winding spiral, anything to let her brain switch tracks into something less depressing, was always the hardest part.

'Less' was definitely the load bearing word here.

Sue opened her eyes with a grunt, the slight movement of her neck forcefully reminding her of just how sore she was all over. Empty tent, Solstice's bed neatly made. A lighter patch of canvas further up—the sun was shortly before, or shortly after, noon. Neither of those possibilities was particularly encouraging.

She needed something else to think about, something dumber—

That dream.

Sue still remembered it clearly, despite her lack of any interest in what had transpired inside it. Night Father deservedly chewing Night Mother out, two weird small shadows she couldn't quite place. Eventually, everything falling apart.

She didn't even have it in her to stick with the 'Duck' thing anymore, especially with how vividly messed up Her depiction was. It almost looked like it had been assaulted and... hell, vandalized. Like, a bunch of hoodlums just came over and kicked everything that stuck out and spray painted the rest. Did that represent what Ginger had done to Her altar? Not a wholly nonsensical possibility, but, then again,

Did all that mean anything at all?​

What if it all really was just a dumb dream her guilty subconscious came up with to make sense of it all? Sue remembered joking that she didn't have the creativity to come up with everything she'd seen in these visions, but what if it wasn't her fault, and instead this dumb body she was stuck in had caused it?

What if it was messing with her again? What if it had been lying to her? What if just being stuck in it was twisting her mind? What if these dreams weren't real, the emotions all around her weren't real, the affection Lilly or Joy had felt towards her weren't real? What if she really had been making it all up to appease herself, to delude herself into thinking anyone here gives a shit any more than anyone back home did? What if—

This is fucking dumb.

Sue closed her eyes and withdrew further into her bedding, grumbling into the nearest patch of exposed fabric. At least half of these possibilities sounded even dumber and more outlandish than the associated events having actually happened. She was psyching herself up; she knew that. Even despite that, though… some of those ideas still felt scarily possible, at least in part.

She was about ready to doubt it all again, to launch off into another spiral. Her brain threw a spanner into the cogs of that aggravating train of thought, stalling it, if briefly. The tiny note attached to the spanner, though, sent her worrying again about things that mattered much more than her being a whiny, sad, worthless mess.

What's gonna happen to Newmoon?

One of theirs had attacked a citizen of Moonview, then their de facto leader had defaced a sacred shrine. Sue knew that this wasn't all there was to either situation—the night kin had tried to catch Juniper, and the latter was an accident that Kantaro outright supported. Knowledge like that was helpful, but Sue feared it ultimately wouldn't matter.

Everyone would just see the blurb and pick up their pitchforks.

...

Assuming they haven't already done that.

A freezing chill went through her spine at the thought; her slow breaths turned panicky. She tried to think of what would happen afterwards, settling on hoping beyond hope that the night kin would be just exiled again, merely driven out of their homes because of no act of their own once more—and not worse. Thank goodness for Moonview's infinite magnanimity in letting these lesser creatures live despite their second-hand sins, or something.

Even as she considered those actually important consequences, a selfish thread soon crept into her mind. Despite her attempts at forcing it out, it persisted, doing a wonderful job in making the once-human feel even worse for thinking about herself in all this.

I'm stuck here now, aren't I?

The thought of her supposed purpose here was a distant one by now, distant and inane to consider. How did she think she could actually help in this nightmarish mess? Worse yet, how could the supposed deity that put her here have expected her to make anything better? Sue felt like a moron, but that deity must've been an imbecile through and through.

Regardless of the exact intelligence quotient of the divine dimwit in question, though, it had won. Sue had failed at her task; she'd be stuck here forever. Or, at least, until she finally died.

Forced to stay in this insane world.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes at the thought. Not at the horror of spending her days in Moonview, but at how conflicted that thought made her feel. She was stuck in a hellish ethnic conflict, one side of which might or might not have already been chased out of their homes for the second time. Even if no more blood would be spilled, she'd have to live with knowing that this place had hurt so many people so many times, even without it all being specifically her fault.

The local wildlife was monstrous and fully capable of killing her if she'd ever dared step a foot outside of Moonview. Hell, nobody inside the village was any better, either—literally every living being here could probably end her life in a dozen different ways. And if she kept practicing her freaky brain magic, in time, so would she.

And yet...

The thought that followed stung extra hard, much more so than even the injury on her horn at its worst. Despite doubting them earlier, despite trying to ascribe them to the trickery of this new body of hers... Sue still felt all these emotions coming from people she cared about. Even if they were just a result of her own bodily deception, if she were to live the rest of her days as a Forest Guardian, it wouldn't matter—it'd just be the new normal for her, on top of an entire pile of other new normals.

Joy's attachment, Sundance's pride, Lilly's infatuation. Solstice's...

Sue cringed extra hard, not wanting to spell that one out to herself. Not wanting to acknowledge everything that had been steadily brewing in her mentor, and which she'd been sneaking glimpses of throughout. She didn't deserve to be thought of this way, to receive that kind of comfort. Besides, what an insult all this would be to Aurora in particular, getting replaced by a moronic, psychically crippled stranger that had accomplished nothing of value.

If vengeful ghosts exist in this world, this is the stuff that brings them into existence.

The other side of the equation was, despite all the Moonview's unfolding tragedies, even more depressing. A familiar world in which not a single soul cared about her beyond the most detached, professional interest. Where she wouldn't be torn apart by massive spiders, but where nobody would look after her was she to end up on the streets, either.

Where, outside of a few randoms on some forums she'd frequented, nobody had even realized her absence.

Suppose the flip side of being this much of a loner was that staying here wouldn't be hurting anyone she cared about. No friends, no relatives—at most, a couple of concerned teachers, maybe a police investigation. And then, life would keep turning on without her, without one of billions of cogs in its massive machine.

Replaced so effortlessly, it's as if she was never there at all.

It was a choice without an answer. Sue's mind went crazy as she tried to make heads and tails of it all. Torn between the options, between all their factors. Torn between which of these two outcomes she wanted,

And which she really deserved, deep down.

A mutated failure who fell face first into any sort of positive attention, and which had only made everything worse afterwards—

*shuffle*

Sue's depressive spiral was suddenly interrupted by light assaulting her eyes; a low groan signaled her displeasure. As she squinted towards the tent's entrance, she finally made out the being that had just stepped in. Their mumbling voice was soft as usual, but not without its own share of nervousness, amplified further at seeing the state she was in. She muttered, "Good morning, Willow..." Her tone wasn't particularly encouraging, but at least it made it clear she wasn't in obvious pain.

A couple winces later, she'd finally pried herself off the bedding's surface, half her body complaining with various levels of soreness as she sat up. The other wanted to get some more sleep. She was cranky, achy, but—at last—fully awake for once.

Behold.

As Sue properly came to, she focused on what emotions she could sense coming from Willow. Concern, worry, a bit of surprise at seeing her here. Less so here and more so at this hour, probably. They were pushing them all out of their mind as they tried to concentrate, professional focus soon replacing them. Just as they did many times by now, the pink and cream medic got to examining her busted leg, whispering reassurances as they unwound the bandage.

This time, the sights that awaited her weren't half bad, at last. True, the bite injury still looked like the aftermath of a bad knife accident, but was now firmly on the side of 'annoying' as opposed to 'life threatening'.

With the brief examination done, Willow got to treating her wounds, the few supplies they had brought with themselves getting used one by one. A couple of medical-looking ointments, some more dressings to secure the injury. No more reinforcement, finally. She'd briefly considered trying to link up with them for some chitchat, but... soon dismissed that idea. She didn't feel like using her injured psychics, and she really didn't feel like talking right now.

Those two were valid reasons, but far from the only ones.

Sue had no idea about everything that could've possibly contributed to the medic's reactions yesterday when seeing her with Ginger. Could very well be that they'd heard what had happened to Sundance and maybe had assumed that the lizard had done it, or were just that nervous because of the vixen's injury.

Sue didn't know, and to a decent extent, didn't care. It still weirded her out, and she still couldn't help but see the medic in a different light afterwards.

With the replacement bandages finally secured, Willow caught her attention with a couple of light pats. Their instructions weren't particularly difficult to decode. Point at her legs, point at the floor. Point at her, point up. Getting up just on her own was trickier than she'd remembered it being—but, for the first time in almost a week, finally possible. It didn't feel all too comfortable, not with her injury still aching a bit, but she could at least stand.

A couple more days and I'll be ready to walk normally again—

Sue's assessment of her own recovery was immediately interrupted by Willow's short, satisfied comment as they turned to leave the tent—

With her crutch in their arms.

She was too stunned to even respond. One arm reached out in mute protest, but before she could gather words, or even make any sounds, the medic was gone, and so was her mobility tool.

Panic soon built up inside her at the idea of being left without her crutch, but giving walking another try soothed it soon after, thankfully. She could walk on her own now, and her leg only occasionally ached anymore—a far cry from her borderline self-harming excursion towards the window when she'd first woken up. Minor pain didn't mean 'no pain' though, and even just circumnavigating Solstice's tent proved more annoying than she'd hoped it'd be.

Some of her wanted to lie back down and be a vegetable for the rest of the day. The idea didn't even strike her as that outlandish or disagreeable, really—if nothing else, she wouldn't make anything else even worse that way. However, another factor fought against, and eventually overpowered, her own seething depression, even if it was a very banal one.

She was really, really hungry.

Breakfast first, moping later.

With the world's driest, most joyless chuckle, Sue headed for the tent's entrance. She grumbled as she stepped outside, eyes squinting and briefly tearing up as they got used to so much light again. Before long, though, she was on her way towards the pantries and kitchens on the other end of Moonview, with nobody to guide her, nobody to restrain her, and no crutch to keep her company.

At last, she was free to roam in this doomed world she had created.


Sue had a noticeable limp, and it annoyed her.

Even if she didn't feel like she was undoing days of healing with each step, her leg still wasn't ready to take all the beating head on. She somehow walked slower than with a crutch, and the prick of pain with every other step added up into minor frustration. Worse yet, it felt like this arrangement drew even more attention onto her than she'd had before with her crutch.

Though, on a second thought, the much more likely reason for the latter was everything that had happened yesterday. Sue grumbled under her breath—Ginger hadn't done anything wrong, and almost every other person was focusing on her because of her having accompanied him. A part of her wanted to stop and shout at the passersby, ask them just what the hell was their problem, but she knew full well that all she'd accomplish was to make even more of a circus out of herself; the awareness of that fact helped exactly jack.

She wasn't even sure how many of those looks were of concern for her, how many of fear, how many of reassurance, how many of disgust. There were some of each in there, that much she was sure of, but with half her brain soggy to the point of falling apart, the other half cranky, and the third half being pushed to overdrive just to let her get around; she had negative spare brainpower to really think through the specific ratios.

A distraction is in order.

As to what that distraction even could be… Sue had no idea—no good ideas, at least. Willow's clinic was on her way to the clearing, so she could very well swing by and check up on Sundance. Whether she should was... debatable, but at least it'd be a distraction. And if Spark was still there, she could try to comfort her a bit. Just to have that single, tiny way in which her presence in Moonview was actually making anything better.

Were she feeling any less torn apart, she would've been able to come up with a dozen more, but, alas.

Spotting the clinic's door hanging open caught Sue off guard once she turned the corner. As confusing as it initially was, the wall of ambient heat she'd waltzed into the moment she cleared the doorframe answered the question before she could even ask it. The clinic was busy, almost as much as when she first stayed here, but with immeasurably different moods throughout, be they sad or serious.

Spark had barely moved since Sue had last seen her, still laying down beside her mom and only letting out a quiet whimper at seeing her friend walk in. The more plant-like of the medics was presently looking after the older vixen, her multicolored collar of flowers much easier to make sense of from closer up. She might not have been lecturing towards an entire informal class, but that didn't mean she wasn't busy passing her knowledge on—the white and navy cat was here, too.

She spared Sue only the briefest glimpse before refocusing back on her teacher, letting the latter finally notice her arrival. In all honesty, Sue cared precious little for either of them, especially the feline—not now, at least, and especially not when they were interrupting her from giving Spark the comfort she needed.

A brief touch of a vine on her shoulder made the Forest Guardian flinch and snap towards the source of the sensation. Her suddenness and annoyed expression took the living bouquet aback, the thin extremity soon withdrawing into the chaotic mess of flowers. A part of Sue wanted to tell her off for distracting her from this one important thing she could still do, to shout an obscenity or two and storm out.

Instead, she took a deep breath and forcibly softened her expression, easing it from aggravated to just deeply tired.

Satisfied at that development, the plant-ish medic was about to speak up before cutting herself off, remembering what had happened a couple of days ago. She turned directly to the cat in the room, asking what sounded like a question in a smooth, slow voice. Without skipping a beat, the psychic fulfilled her request, a white ear unfolding to show off a glowing something on its inner part, followed by a rough, but familiar sensation inside Sue's mind. "Hi. Orchid wants to—"

"Yes, yes, I know," Sue snapped back, exasperation even clearer to hear than it was to see.

It briefly took the plant aback before she spoke up herself. "Pleasure to see you once more. Highly unfortunate it's in such a tense context. Sue, wasn't it~?" she asked, to which Sue nodded wordlessly, relieved that the middle-aged medic at least had enough courtesy to greet her first. "Suppose it'd be uncouth of me to delay my point. Rumor has it you know what actually happened to Sundance, no?"

It was probably the exact last topic Sue wanted to talk about right now. She was of half a mind to turn toward the clinic's entrance and just waltz out there and then, but... she supposed that informing people tending to the vixen would be helpful in her recovery—especially with the question catching Spark's attention, too. The kit picked herself up and shyly walked over to Sue, wordlessly nuzzling the side of her hand, helping her keep her cool.

Just have to get over myself and bumble it out.

"I was there, yes," Sue sighed, glancing down at the bandaged tip of her horn. "I got a... very good look at what had happened."

The connection immediately clicked into place for Orchid and Spark alike, with the cat remaining entirely unemotional as always. "A-are you okay, Sue?" the lil' fox asked, her voice warbling and hoarse, almost making Sue pick her up into her arms there and then. With her disheveled state and weakness, she limited herself to petting the fox's head, the gesture appreciated all the same.

Sue's response left the plant medic briefly covering her mouth in shock, before she swallowed it and tried to push on. "I'm terribly sorry, Sue. Still, such knowledge would greatly help, including in treating your own injury."

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"I-I wish I knew exactly," Sue earnestly answered. "It all happened so fast, a-and... Juniper shot an arrow, i-it glowed a bit, and then grazed my horn and hit Sundance. I-I think that's it."

Despite her occasional crassness, the bouquet medic knew better than to probe more. She brought a hand to her mouth, thinking through what Sundance and Solstice had taught her about how one's aura affected their physical health—

"Was it dark or spectral energy?" the cat asked, her question delivered in the exact same monotone as everything else she'd said previously.

It came off as at best disinterested, and at worst as dismissive, and the lack of almost any emotion aside from focus only aggravated Sue more. The plant medic tried to defuse the situation, chiming in, "Northeast dear, tis not the best time for a question of that sort," but Sue was getting too angry to hear her words.

Her eyebrow twitched as her former crutch hand tightened, her response enough to take Spark aback—"Do I look like I fucking know?" All the pent up stress inside Sue's head was already looking for an outlet, and being asked dumb, borderline insulting questions only cranked the pressure valve up even further.

Despite her forceful tone, Northeast still hadn't gotten the clue, as evidenced by the response that came soon after. "No, you don't. You don't seem to know much."

...

...

"Northeast—"

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!?" Sue shouted, the blood rushing into her head eclipsing all other sound.

The silence that followed her outburst was near deafening, even outside the medic's cabin. As the outside noises returned, so did a semblance of clarity—and with it, the creeping realization of what she'd just done, underlined by the displeased shock of everyone around her.

For once, that group included the white and navy cat too. Her distress was at first slight, but then quickly grew afterwards. The first emotions Sue actually felt emanate from Northeast, and of course it was sadness caused by none other than her. Before her self loathing could fully get going, she jumped slightly at finally seeing a movement in her peripheral vision—

And watched the psychic cat run out of the clinic, teary-eyed.

I just blew up on a fucking child, haven't I.

There were many things Sue knew she should've done in that situation, many ways to show a semblance of maturity, even following what she just did. She didn't have it in her to do any of them, though, not in a state like this—and so, she ran out too, fighting back her own tears as she shambled away, towards the clearing.

Towards somewhere to sit down at, somewhere to eat at, away from what she'd done. Every single rational part of her might've known that even in the worst-case scenario, she'd only insulted someone. Nothing serious—at worst it'd result in bad blood going forward and life would keep moving on.

But fuck if I didn't need that to happen right now.

She hadn't even realized she'd arrived at the clearing until a loud bark snapped her out of her ever tightening panic spiral. Suddenly she was somewhere else, shaking with her entire body as she leaned her weight on one of the tables, a handful of tears wetting the rough wood beneath her face. She turned over to see the source of the noise, expected to see someone who would chew her out for that, someone that would administer the punishment she deserved—

And instead, saw Spark climbing first on the benches, and then up on the table, before resuming her attempts to comfort her. Sue whimpered, "N-no, S-Spark, you don't have to..." but even these words were almost enough to make her break down there and then.

They also redoubled the fox's efforts, the warm affection making Sue weak and forcing her to finally take a seat. Within moments, the vixen was on her lap, nuzzling her stomach as she spoke with quiet whimpers, trying to reassure her as hard as she could manage. Regardless of whether Sue thought she deserved that reassurance, it was steadily working—enough so to make the once-human pull her friend into a tight hug, all the pent-up tears finally finding release.

All her self loathing thoughts, her fears, her doubts. They were still there; they burned ever stronger, but... Spark was here, too. The lil' fox couldn't comprehend a third of the murk that was going through Sue's head and wasn't aware of the other third, but she wanted to help with it all.

To help her friend.

The worst steadily blew over as Sue pet Spark, each motion relieving their combined tension tear by tear. Things weren't great for either of them; they both hurt, but Duckdammit if they wouldn't at least help their friend feel less sad.

And the other appreciated it more than they could ever know.

Many minutes later, tears finally stopped flowing. Sue opened her eyes again, looking straight down at Spark's similarly puffy ones. Whether their initial meeting was Fate, random chance, the Forest Guardian body acting up, or something else altogether, they had each other now. "Th-thank you, Spark..." Sue whispered.

*w-woof!*

The incomprehensible response forced a stray chuckle out of her, the unexpected sound helping to relieve some of the stress. And with stress, food helped a lot, too, a lesson learned dozens of times from experience. With a couple of weak pats, the little fox was once more on the grass, letting her friend pick herself back up and look around for somewhere to grab something to eat from. She wasn't in the mood or emotional stability to be dealing with Hazel again; this place mostly served bugs...

Suppose the ladybug-operated food bank worked as well as anywhere else.

There weren't nearly as many leftovers inside as when Solstice had taken her there, but there was still more than enough for both her and Spark. The little of her previous visit that Sue remembered included the four-armed ladybug being nocturnal, but that wasn't stopping them from manning the stall well into the morning. Not without the expected consequences, though.

Even if all Sue could hear with her ears was buzzing, they screamed exhaustion to her sixth sense. Exhaustion, anger, and most surprisingly of all, fear. Fear of what exactly she couldn't place, not once they had finally spotted her—and grew angrier at the sight. The emotional whiplash made Sue stop there and then, left with no idea how to respond. The ladybug's compound eyes had narrowed at her in their entirety as their ill will became downright palpable, her fear growing by the moment.

Spark's woofs soon diffused some of the tension, enough so for the insect cook to at least stop glaring at Sue. Even if they disliked her, she was there for a reason, and it was their duty to dispense food to those who came.

To do anything of value despite their muteness, to make the most out of their crippled existence.

The provided meal was only so in the loosest sense of the word. Sue had reminded herself of the ladybug's name, Sunrise, just in time to see them slam a couple of harder fruits on the food bank's countertop, denting one and cracking the other. And then, they lifted a singular arm, pointing straight away from themselves.

Don't fucking have to tell me twice.

Sue leered at Sunrise as she took the sloppily provided meal, immediately upping her pace to take a seat somewhere well away. She had no idea just what the hell was their problem, but it hardly mattered anymore. It sure didn't help in the big scheme to have a local be irrationally angry at her, but at the very least, it distracted her moping with some anger of her own for a change.

The cracked fruit was split in half, one part given to Spark once they sat down. With both of them getting their portions, they could get comfortable on the nearest bench and calm down at their own paces, at least in the moment. The past day has been stressful enough to where neither of them really needed any further sources of anxiety, and even something as simple as a slap dashed meal was doing wonders.

Local fruits tasting so much better than anything Sue had back home sure helped, too.

Once she was done recovering from the ladybug's mute outburst, Sue could finally give it some conscious thought. Just what was wrong with them? They were entirely fine when she'd visited them with Solstice a few days ago; she was sure of that. No anger towards either the Mayor or her, an almost total one-eighty today into being scared, angry, and... sleepless. Too afraid to sleep now and not then, furious at her all of a sudden.

Aside from botching Moonview's peace attempt, what had she actually done over these past couple of days? It's not like Sunrise knew of that fact, it couldn't have been it. Had to have been something they could've seen, something eye-catching she did here in Moonview.

...

Or maybe someone that had accompanied her in here—

*tap tap*

If the moment of reprieve had accomplished something, it was helping Sue not jump anxiously at yet another unexpected sensation. Instead, she'd maintained just enough composure to look up from her previous focus—namely, grass—and coming face to face with someone familiar, but also someone whose name she still had no idea of.

The brown spiky pangolin was a part of the builders' team. She knew that with confidence, but anything beyond that, gender included, remained an enigma. The realization didn't help any with her anxiety, though, not with yesterday's events. The builders and Ginger had clearly been at least friends before, and they all saw her yesterday when she was following the lizard around. For a moment, Sue thought she'd look up and see the rest of them surrounding her, getting ready to use their strength to get all the details out of her the hard way.

Instead, the pangolin was on their own for once. What Sue could sense radiating from them mostly matched her own emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, for once no depression, releasing the once-human's tension before it could build up even further.

A truly refreshing mix.

Sue had no idea why they'd caught her attention, but the kit on her lap could at least try to find out. Her barks and the stranger's chitters continued for a few moments, with both of them growing more and more unsure by the moment. Something unpleasant was a shoo-in on the account of everything having been unpleasant lately, but the details were anyone's guess.

Feeble as she might've acted, though, Sue did have a way of bridging that gap.

The pangolin knew that, too, miming it out after a moment of deliberation. First, one of the long claws tapped their forehead, then they moved it closer towards Sue's, keeping the dangerous-looking extremity just out of reach, which her racing heart definitely appreciated.

Sue had no idea whether she was even capable of linking up in her current state. As with most things, though, there was only one way of finding out—the hard way. Once she'd acknowledged their words with a firm nod, she went through her usual routine. Each movement of her aura caused the dull ache in her horn to spike in intensity, but only a little each time—if anything, it was the part of her that was hurting the least.

Ultimately, it only slowed her down and made the resulting connection rougher for both recipients, but still usable. And the stranger was very keen to get some use out of it. "Hear, Guardian?" they spoke up. Their voice wasn't as rough as Sue expected it to be, having an almost squeak-like quality to it.

It was also distinctly feminine, a fact that Sue would've appreciated in literally any other circumstances. "Yes, yes, I can hear you. What's your name?" she asked, tired.

As with the other times she had to use her patchwork telepathy, the connection was far from clear. Still, that didn't dissuade the stranger, their momentary confusion getting shook off with a response, "Hoff. Kantaro 'Sue' mention."

Not a kind of name anyone else had in here; Sue had to give her that. Once she'd listened to how the builder had pronounced it, its uniqueness became even clearer. It was a sound of shifting dirt and sand, pronounced entirely differently from either how Hoff or the rest of Moonview spoke.

An onomatopoeia name is new, that's for sure.

"Yes, I'm Sue. How... can I help, Hoff?"

"Yesterday. You, Ginger. How?" the pangolin asked, and Sue only barely held her composure.

Of course, of course...

Sue exhaled deeply as she braced herself to recount the events again, not finding them hurting any less than before—though at least she wouldn't get interrupted by an insanely rude cat this time. "Sundance and Solstice went to Newmoon for peace talks, I tagged behind," she began.

A longer sentence demanded much more focus out of Hoff to decode in full. Judging by her eyes going wide, she eventually accomplished that regardless. "Sundance Solstice Newmoon... alone?" she asked for clarification. "And you?"

Sue hoped she interpreted it the right way, explaining, "They wanted to go alone, and I followed them." Successful clarification, judging from the sandy rodent's mental state.

Heard I could get an IOU for a free pat on the back for that one.

"Sundance Newmoon hurt?"

Sue answered with a somber nod, following it up with a clarification soon after. "Juniper hurt her, yes. Only Juniper, though. Others tried catching her, but she escaped."

Seemed this one was beyond Hoff's ability to decode, at least if a couple of idle scratches on the side of her head were any sign. Still, she kept trying, asking for clarification. "Juniper attack, yes?"

"Yes, she attacked. Nobody else wanted her to attack. She escaped after."

Finally, confusion loosened up, freeing up the dirt gears inside the builder's mind. "Newmoon not want attack. Juniper want attack."

"Yes, yes, exactly," Sue nodded firmly. It was small and likely mattered little in the grand picture, but she was glad she could at least help with explaining what had happened, despite her language limitations. Sure wasn't anywhere near enough to make her outright relax, but... it helped. A lot.

"Newmoon not catch Juniper. Solstice not catch Juniper. Nothing catch Juniper."

"Juniper ran away, yes."

The anger that brewed up inside the brown quilled critter was an emotion Sue could really empathize with. Despite the unpleasant context, the kinship was soothing in its own right.

"Fuck bastard fuck shit fucker," Hoff muttered, her string of mistranslated swears caught Sue entirely by surprise. She only barely restrained her laughter; the held-in chuckles sent her hiccuping, to which the builder asked, "Good you?"

"Yes, yes—*hic*—sorry."

"No sorry. No bad. What after attack shit bird?"

The second try at holding her amusement in was even harder, enough so to need Sue to breathe deeply for a few moments afterwards to regain composure. Hoff copied her action if for different reasons, inappropriate amusement and entirely appropriate anger evening out into calm-ish focus as Sue continued. "After—*hic*—after the attack, Newmoon helped Sundance. Ginger and Alastor helped carry me and Sundance."

Finally, the dots were getting filled in, and the pangolin liked exactly nothing of what she was piecing together. "Newmoon not harm. Juniper harm. Newmoon help. Ginger help."

Four outta four. "Yes, yes, *hic*, yes, yes."

The confirmation sparked a bunch of emotions inside Hoff, most of them the less pleasant sort. Everything the Forest Guardian had said was relatively obvious in hindsight, but a confirmation was very important, especially with what the builder had heard thrown around. Anything from simple misunderstandings and sheer confusion, to much more malicious versions of the events, for Ginger and Newmoon as a whole alike.

Not that Ginger knew how malice even feels like.

"Thank you thousand, Sue. Need tell others. Many wrong know. I go now," Hoff spoke before heading off. Her parting words finally stirred Sue's emotions, pushing her out of the self-protective detachment.

Guess her explanation really was helpful if the builder felt compelled to spread it afterwards. That her version of the events wasn't the commonly accepted one was worrying for sure, but at least there now was someone else to help spread it. And if she knew anything about the team of builders, soon that one would be upgraded to four, if not five or six. From there... who knows?

Maybe they'd succeed at spreading the truth. Maybe the public opinion was already too calcified to be swayed. Maybe Hoff wasn't expecting this to work out either and was more so doing this to soothe her own conscience. Sue didn't know, and to a large extent, she didn't want to know, either. It'd be nice for someone else to worry about all that for once. What she wanted, instead, was some place she and Spark could try to relax some more, now that they'd wrapped up their impromptu breakfast.

And there was one excellent spot for that they both thought of.


Spark immediately turned more lively the moment she realized where they were both heading. Not quite cheerful, not by a long shot, but with her friend around—and soon many more friends too—the scary events of the past day were easier to push through. And once they were all done playing, she'd be able to go back to her mom and tell her about everything that had happened today! Her mom always enjoyed listening to her recollections.

The kit just hoped she could hear them like this, too.

Sue wasn't privy to the lil' fox's exact thoughts, but she could feel the relief inside her clearly. The emotion was soon joined by her own, especially once she recognized who was already present at the oversized daycare—and moments later, both of them noticed her too.

Astra's soft but mighty cry provided almost as much comfort as Joy's harsh, shrill one, the latter accompanied by the toothy one running all the way over to her Forest Guardian friend. Joy was right about to hug Sue's leg before she did a double take at the different set of bandages—and more importantly, at the absence of the ever present crutch. The change was unexpected enough to make her stammer out a single, confused word as she pointed at Sue's empty right arm.

She's adorable when she's surprised.

If there was any upside to Willow unexpectedly taking her crutch away, it was having both arms available for what Sue was about to do.

Joy's drawn out squeal at being picked up was even cuter than her greeting one, enough so for Sue to even overlook the clinking of the maw's metal teeth. The little one wasted no time before trying to hug as much of the Forest Guardian as she could from her new vantage point, only really embracing a single shoulder. Her new point of view also let her finally notice the bandage on Sue's horn, though the brief worry that resulted from that was banished with another hug—Astra's hug.

Despite catching Sue from the left field, it was no less welcome, especially as it made Joy's embrace grow even tighter. And judging by how much she weighed despite her tiny size, combined with her being at least partially made of metal, something told Sue that there wasn't such a thing as a 'too firm hug' for Joy.

By the time the dragon let go of the other two and they all sat down, Spark was already way off playing with others, though never stepping too far from her Forest Guardian friend.

Note to self: Arrange a day where I can just pet both Joy and Spark all day long.

The thought brought in no small amusement, made sweeter still by the metal girl sitting down on her lap soon after. Even having her hand grasped by the toothless tip of the scary maw felt more cute than not to Sue by now, despite it still putting her on somewhat of an edge.

She still had her other hand to keep petting Joy's front head, and that's all that really mattered—

*tap tap*

Who the fuck is it this time—oh.


While Sue was much more eager to speak with Astra compared to either of the earlier two, she couldn't help but worry that she'd just be asked the same thing again, killing the mood once more. The recycled excuse of it being a way to help Newmoon out helped a bit, but was really beginning to wear thin, especially with her already being so worn down today.

Suppose she could do it again, this once.

Going through her impromptu ritual was much harder with just one hand, doubly so since it was her left hand that was immobilized, the one she typically used for the part where she tuned out the nearby emotions. Guess if it came down to it, Sue could be extremely rude and pull it out of the maw full of metal teeth, but she would rather not.

Just as the last time she'd practiced this with Solstice, the glare of feelings was almost blinding, unpleasant for her and her wounded extremity alike, but not unbearably so. Bit by bit, Sue went through the parts of her brain that usually tingled when she did the emotion tuning step, gradually inching closer to replicating it arms-free. Bit by bit, the overwhelming light dimmed, until finally, the minds that radiated said glare came into view.

*tap tap*

"Just a moment, Astra..." Sue mumbled through her teeth.

She felt Joy shift on her lap and disappointingly let go of her left hand at the sound, but remained focussed on accomplishing the feat the way she'd initially set out to. She'd honed in on who she was sure was Astra, now to just carefully reach in, push through the pain, and—

"Ow," Astra hissed.

Guess not carefully enough.

Confirming the noise, a glance over Sue's shoulder revealed the dragon to be lightly rubbing the side of her head, less injured and more so surprised. Unfortunate, but thankfully only a tiny mishap.

"H-hey, Astra," Sue greeted tiredly, dispelling any of Astra's remaining aching in an instant.

The dragon perked up, responding with yet another embrace, much gentler this time, and lifting Sue onto her own lap along with it, the bulky dragon's leg just large enough to comfortably sit on. "Heya, Sue! Good chat you again."

"Y-yeah, s-same here," Sue sighed, closing her eyes.

"Alright ya? Commotion yesterday, heard much, you injured—"

"I-I'm alright Astra, I'm alright," the Forest Guardian insisted. "Promise." As alright as reasonably possible, at least.

The dragon smiled. "Phew, relief! Want ask you if right."

Please, not again...

"S-sure..." Sue whimpered, bracing herself for—

"I force work soon, tomorrow, not have care Joy. Ya could?" Astra asked, derailing her friend's train of thought.

Sue was reasonably certain she'd pieced together her meaning right away, though that didn't leave her any less dumbfounded. Suppose if there was anyone who was a good fit for looking after Joy for a few days, it was her, but... just thinking about it made many of the earlier kinds of anxiety creep back in. She wanted this; she couldn't even pretend she didn't want that. She'd be tangibly helping people of Moonview out, she'd be spending more time with Joy, she'd be giving the little one the comfort and affection she needs—

But did she deserve this?

After everything she'd done? Was she worthy of getting to fulfill her wants this much, in such a nourishing way, considering everything that had happened yesterday and earlier today—

"Sue?" Astra spoke up again, unsure.

She had no idea, but the 'caught off-guard Sue' always went with her gut instinct, and not any well established logical reasoning—and what her gut was saying was loud and clear. "Y-yeah, I'd love to! Wh-when do you leave?"

The dragon's hug was immediate and immensely relieving yet again, especially when doubled up on by Joy's shortly after. She didn't even know whether the toothy girl had actually understood what was said beyond a few bits and pieces, but... she didn't care. It felt good to be held like this, to have people show her affection, not because she had done something or was someone important, but because she was herself.

It was really, really nice.

"Thank thank thank!" the dragon beamed. "Leave young morning. Joy sleep you."

Guess at least Sue had the rest of the day to prepare. Solstice's tent wasn't the most spacious, but... they'd figure something out. "I can handle that, yeah."

"Great! Joy, sleep Sue. Sue watch tomorrow days. I leave days."

The metal girl had an even more scattered comprehension of Astra's words than Sue, but it seemed she got the gist. Or at least, understood enough to first hug Sue the most she could from her vantage point, and then her other guardian's nearby paw. She got some more affection in response, so all was good in the world.

Feeling Joy on her lap like this was... comforting, in a way Sue couldn't describe if she wanted to. Even more so than usual, on a deeper level. More... right. It felt great; it felt worrisome.

It felt like something not for here and now.

Which meant time for a distraction, and to answer one of her own questions. "Astra?"

A look upwards had Sue stare the mighty dragon straight in the eye, the sight utterly nonthreatening despite Astra's size. "Oh?" the dragon squeaked.

"Why do you need to leave?"

The question made a fireball go off inside Astra's mind—both at understanding Sue's point, at getting to answer the young Forest Guardian's question, and at getting to talk about her job for a moment. With all the motivation she could've ever wanted, Astra reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of sheets of paper, together with a couple of wrapped sticks of charcoal. "Make map! Look new lands. New peoples. Root tells look small peoples."

I don't like the sound of that last addition.

"A cartographer?" Sue asked, curious.

Astra took a moment to make heads and tails of the complex words, eventually affirming Sue's hunch with a tentative nod. Quite a cool job as far as Sue was concerned, especially with Astra's ability to fly so far out she got to make maps. This world might've felt uncharted, but its inhabitants most definitely weren't gonna let it remain so forever.

And of course, a job like that sparked the most obvious follow up. "What's the coolest place you've seen?" Sue asked.

For once, the dragon answered right away. "Divine mountain! Only foot. Very very massive. Needle make crazy!"

"...needle?"

Another immediate response. This time, Astra reached into her satchel and pulled out a round, metal trinket, the color reminding her of bronze or brass. Sue's suspicion was confirmed moments later, with the top part getting opened up to reveal a rather pitiful, slightly bent metal needle, one end painted red. "Point south!" the dragon explained. "How, wonder. From far, very much far, even Central City."

Guess it makes sense for a compass to be an artifact. And raises a question of who built it...

"I've seen one of these before; that's awesome!" Sue beamed.

"Is awesome! You awesome! Again thank!"

She should've seen that one coming, heh. Silly as Astra's response was, Sue couldn't help but feel warmer afterwards. Her heart wasn't thinking of the dragon as anything more than a friend and there weren't any inklings of that changing, but this kind of casual affirmation felt... good. It just felt good. She needed it badly, even if she wouldn't have ever admitted to it personally.

With the conversation dying down, she got a wonderful opportunity to look at what all the other kids around were doing.

The very first little one might've been of the very creepy sort, but now that she'd talked with Dewdrop, Sue knew better than to instantly freak out. It didn't mean she immediately liked the green smiley-faced spider hanging down from a nearby branch, but at least seeing them didn't instantly send her halfway to a panic attack—as long as they remained there.

Huh, wonder if they're Dewdrop's relative?

Further along the scene, a few more familiar faces were present, some of which Sue appreciated seeing more than others. She was entirely cool with the brown donkey whose name she didn't know and the plant bud-like Petal, but the third member of their impromptu group immediately had her glaring. The pink scorpion-bat noticed her irate expression rather quickly, drawing the other two's attention to her—only for them to focus back on their friend and speak up louder, the topic of their chatter not particularly hard to figure out.

Apologize to Joy, or, or—

...

Yeah, there's no finishing that thought in a non-messed up way, isn't there?

Even beyond her not being able to think of any, Sue wasn't a punishment kind of person, at least not when calm. She hoped that some of the other adults would come up with something suitable, or just talk it out with the bat—they were sitting some thirty meters away from her and she could still feel their apprehension clearly.

For once, she wouldn't need to wait long for an idle desire to start coming true. The pink scorpion audibly opposed as the other two called out to Splitleaf, but the leafy mantis knew better than to not intervene. What they talked about afterwards, Sue had no idea about, and didn't really care as long as it resulted in an apology towards the metal girl on her lap.

Judging by the pink one's audible opposition, some progress was being made, hah.

At least something good—

...

Right as Sue was about to look over elsewhere, she spotted a bizarre object at the other end of the clearing, near where she sat when they all were here last time. The more she stared at it, the more unnerving the sight got, sending an icy dread through her spine. It looked similar to Comet, but wrong, so very wrong. She couldn't make many details from this far, but the dimensions were just... off.

A part of her wanted to ignore the unnerving sight, a different part wanted to call for someone who hadn't stopped using crutches literally earlier today to investigate, but the last part... wanted, no, needed to see what was going on. Even beyond the weird appearance, she felt emotions emanate from that object, and none of the good ones. None of the scary ones, either, just... the sad ones.

Her weakness.

With a couple of shaky breaths, Sue gently lowered Joy down on the well-worn dirt and stood up. Her arms shook, her body tensed up—she was torn almost exactly in half between running towards and away from the not-Comet, but the 'towards' side was winning ever so slightly. She remained deaf to Astra's and Joy's questions as she took one step, and another, and a third still. Each one shakier, each one smaller, but all approaching the...

Mimic.

The realization made Sue pause mid step as half-chewed bits of pop-culture knowledge leaped to the forefront of her mind. It was about enough to make her run, but soon more pieces fell into place, disproving that half-baked idea. Mimics were supposed to be convincing, whereas this one just wasn't, and got even less so the closer she walked to it.

It almost looked like a scarecrow.

Dirtied rag for skin, the same kind she'd seen Willow use here and there.

Tattered pieces of green thread for hair, some of it already weaved into the tassels she'd seen Dewdrop carry.

A pair of roof tiles for horns, like the ones suddenly stolen from Granite the previous day—

The realization audibly clicked in place for her, but by then, it was too late. Only a few meters separated her from the fake Comet, and if it were to leap at her, there'd be nobody between them to intervene—she was lured right into its trap.

She could feel its fear, its worry; she felt them almost as clearly as she'd felt her own, but had no idea just what they meant. Were they even actual emotions? Was this entity drawing her in with fake feelings to match its fake body? Sue didn't know, she couldn't know, it was something out of a horror movie. Step by step, she slowly backed off from whatever the hell it was, and to her terror, her movement was finally enough to make it move.

Or rather, twitch.

Whatever was inside the doll-like body inched forward towards her in a messy, uncoordinated way, one part at a time. All the while, it tried to keep the rest of its disguise in one piece, even as it shook and lost balance.

It managed all of two feet before collapsing forwards.

Sue let an involuntary yelp at seeing its head roll off its body; the fruit that the roof tiles were impaled in immediately coming into view as the fake green hair scattered all around the small patch of sand. The disguise was gone in seconds, replaced by a mess of individual items—and a single, quivering being, hiding underneath an off-white rag.

As pathetic as the sight was, it paled compared to what her sixth sense was showing her. Its sorrow had turned into heartbreak, fear into pure terror, the kind which she herself had felt just moments prior. Even with its disguise busted, it wasn't trying to leap at her in an attack of desperation; it wasn't fleeing to try its luck again.

It just laid in place, shaking in one spot, its painful emotions ever growing.

It... they…

...

They were crying.



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Also check out my other story, From the Vast!​
 


Chapter 22: Curse



For the longest time, Sue could only stare at the despairing heap.

Her rational decision-making kept urging her to get out of here and ask someone less crippled for help with… whatever this being was. After all, as acutely as she could feel their sorrow, there was still the possibility of all this being a trap of some sort, of this creature trying to lure her in closer.

And right beside it, the equally likely possibility of them being genuinely sad because their costume broke. Why they would disguise themselves as Comet, Sue didn't know. But what she did know, with utter certainty, was that her heart was firmly in favor of comforting them.

Step aside, brain.

With a nervous shake, the Forest Guardian sat down on the rough sand of the playground, within arm's reach of the obscured stranger. Whatever they were, they seemed to have sensed her joining them, growing still in anticipation. It didn't help Sue's nerves any, but by then, she was too set in her path to pay any attention to them.

"Hey... you," Sue said. She felt a tinge of confusion join the sloshing despair beneath the off-white rag, letting her know they had at least heard her. Her words weren't doing her any more favors here than with anyone else in Moonview, but by that point, Sue knew full well that it wasn't the important part.

All that mattered was that she was here.

Her hand shook as she lowered it onto the small mound, doubts growing by the moment. Even beside the absurd possibility of it being a trap, them reacting badly to an unexpected touch could end similarly badly, even without any underlying ill intent. Maybe they hated being touched, maybe they were poisonous, maybe they'd run away the instant she made contact.

Many awful possibilities, none of which mattered—Sue wanted to help them, help someone, and that's what she'd do. She felt the hidden creature freeze as she laid her hand on top of their disguised body, the immediate sensations... oddly pleasant. They were warm, like a living being, and very soft, downright squishy, underneath the rugged canvas.

Regardless of how they looked or didn't look, her touch had a marked effect on them. She felt their sadness ease out with her every breath, the gentle movements of her petting hand working away at their anxious bind. The shift was gradual, but once Sue had noticed it, she only redoubled her affection—shakes turned to gentle pets and one hand was joined by another; anything to help calm them down more. "There, there, I'm here," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I'm he—"

As unexpectedly pleasant as their interaction was so far, the sight off to the side threatened to ruin it all in an instant.

A pitch-black tentacle, tipped with three claw-like extensions, was creeping out from under the rag. Her heart hammered and mind screamed for her to do what she should've done in the first place and run; the sudden situation left her paralyzed—and then, the blackness wrapped itself around her hand.

It felt... really nice.

Their arm was similarly warm to the rest of their hidden body, and just as soft. To the best of Sue's ability to make out, it was also much more amorphous than it looked, the black tissue striking her as more of a gel than an actual well-defined limb. They may have anxiously frozen once Sue had lifted her other hand, but relaxed even further once she gently grabbed their tentacle, fingers brushing along its soft surface.

Little hidden... slime creature?

As small as they were physically, Sue could only estimate their mental age. They sure didn't feel adult; the immense swing of emotions between being provided and starved of attention made that clear. Most likely a child, but anything beyond that was impossible to determine.

Suppose taking a peek under the rag could help?

Now that their disguise had been entirely blown, there shouldn't have been any issue with discarding the rest of it. And, whatever they might've looked like underneath, it sure beat the well-worn, stained rag that currently comprised the entirety of their appearance.

Just had to take it off. "Everything's good, little one," Sue beamed, grabbing the dirtied piece of fabric. "Lemme take that thing off, the scare's over—"

...

...

Sue's eyes stared at the pitch-black blob, and the blob stared back.

The more she tried to focus on it, the less she could think at all. Its dimensions were entirely off; it was simultaneously too small and too large to be real. The impossible stimuli filled Sue with vertigo as her mind locked up while trying to process it, left unable to even keep her balance or breathe—

The next thing Sue knew, the hidden creature had scooted away in terror, and her lungs were on fire.

She doubled over and gasped, breaking into painful coughs once she'd come to. Her head spun like she'd spent the last few minutes in a blender; her chest hurt like she'd been starved of oxygen—she couldn't even maintain her balance, arms shaking as she sat back up.

As overwhelming and terrifying as those sensations were, they weren't entirely unfamiliar. Sue's eyes went wide as she remembered feeling this exact indescribable sensation a few days ago, right here at the playground, even if nowhere near as intense. She was walking over with Comet in her arms, and then she saw—

She saw—

She saw them.

"Th-that was you, wasn't it?" she mumbled out in between panting. Their distorted squeak, muffled further by the rag covering them, finished snapping Sue back to awareness, the situation finally clicking together.

She'd looked at their real body, her brain blue-screened, and now they were freaking out in—in fear.

Oh, no.

She scrambled over beside them, putting on the calmest voice she had as she reassured them, "Hey, hey, it's all good." To her relief, her touch immediately deflated much of their panic—and then some, the bulk of their obscured body scooting towards her and pressing itself into her side.

As if wanting to be as close as possible.

The resumed routine of one hand petting the top of their disguise and the other holding their tentacle calmed the stranger down, together with Sue. Whatever the hell had caused... that when she looked at their body thankfully didn't extend to their limbs, their blackness safely non-mind-melting. The more she thought about it, the sadder the entire situation became, especially once she'd connected the dots leading up to now.

They saw her carrying Comet. They put together this costume to look like him, joined the other kids, and then it all fell apart, anyway. The question of 'but why a costume like Comet specifically' was answered as soon as she'd asked it, the realization forcing a couple of tears down her cheeks.

"It's because I was holding Comet, wasn't it?" Sue whimpered, the hand holding their tentacle growing that much shakier. "Holding him while you... were alone."

She still had zero idea just what the hell this creature was, but in that moment, Sue wanted nothing more than to keep them company for as long as they needed to. Hell, if they really were a child like she'd suspected them to be, it'd make it all even sadder, as they would obviously be looking for protection. For a home, for a family, everything the little ones in the two villages had rightfully taken for granted.

Her sniffs were heard right away, adding worried confusion to the stranger's whirlpool of emotions. An extra sized dose of affection eased them out as Sue chewed through what she was to do now.

The worries about whether this was an actual child, about who would take care of them if so. The very acute concern of 'just what do I do to keep them from melting the brains of all of Moonview with their appearance'. And the equally baffling question of what were they, even? A mountain sized fort of confusion in her head, and exactly nothing for answers.

Sundance would've known what to do...

The thought stung deeply, making Sue physically flinch. It was as true as it was profoundly unhelpful, especially now. Sundance wasn't around at the moment; she couldn't approach her for advice, but it didn't matter. The little one still needed her help, and she'd do everything in her power to provide.

And the very first step in that process was figuring out how to move them safely. For that, knowing their... composition would help a lot. That word felt so, so wrong referring to a person, but with their body shape feeling so undefined, it was the most applicable one Sue could think of.

Looking under the cover was a bad idea—she was sure of that much—but what about reaching in there instead? Slowly, Sue withdrew one hand and moved it down to the nearest edge of their protective rag. At the count of three, she reached in, bracing herself for whatever might happen.

It felt... just as nice.

Sue's hand was surrounded by the same soft warmth that comprised the lil' one's tentacle, but this time from all around. It reminded her of putty, but with none of the associated sliminess—and alive, somehow. As much as her movement had startled them, making them shift and flow under the cover, they soon calmed back down as Sue continued to hold their tentacle and shower them with affection without the rag in the way.

Them being amorphous wasn't much help when it came to moving them around, though. Sue grew steadily distraught at not coming up with anything before an idea clicked into place. A tremendously stupid idea—the kind the little slime creature would've been angry to hear if they could read her thoughts—but it was the only one she had, making it the best one by walk-over.

Why not... scoop them up?

They clearly weren't leaking through the canvas, so there was no concern of them potentially spilling out while she carried them around. She wouldn't need to bring anything else, since she could just carry them in the rag they were hiding under. The entire dumb idea could've gone wrong in a dozen different ways, at least half of them leaving the lil' one exposed in the middle of Moonview, their curse applying to everyone around,

But overall, she was just about ready to give it a shot.

Giving them a heads-up would help a lot, though. As would... asking them about all this.

While Sue's mind tried to avoid kicking herself down too hard for not thinking to link up with them sooner, her brain was in the middle of alleviating that exact concern, repeating her little ritual. She grit her teeth as the injury on her front fin flared up, but ultimately persevered, trying to banish the built-up aching with deep breaths once done.

It was time to finally greet them. "H-hey there, little one. My name is Sue," she smiled.

Silence.

Sue blinked at the absence of any response—not beyond the emotion of curiosity, that is. Her connection was spotty, sure, but there was no way it'd entirely block out their communication. She supposed emotions could work to convey their intent in a pinch, but something less ambiguous would've been appreciated.

The hidden being felt... really spaced out, now that she could sense them closer.

Let's lay the idea out and see how they react. "I want to move you over to everyone else. Would it be alright with you if I carried you in your... disguise?"

She had no more luck than before, especially not with their reaction being this ambiguous. Clinging to her could mean many things as a response to this specific question, not helping her any, and forcing her to go through with her idea first, and ask for forgiveness afterwards.

Fuck's sake.

Still, Sue wanted to run the steps by them first, even if just for herself. If they understood any of it, great, but either way, it'd help her a lot to have the entire plan laid out in her mind. "I'm gonna f-fold the edges of the rag underneath you. Then I'll close my eyes, flip you around, and tie the corners together. Is that alright?"

Once more, there were no words, only calmness. As much of a confirmation as she was gonna get.

Wasting no more time, she went through her steps, shaking throughout. She kept an unerring focus on the little one's emotions all along, sighing in relief whenever a larger movement had them only grow a bit confused. Edges folded, now the potentially nasty part.

Sue didn't expect them to be so light.

As terrified as they got by her staring at them directly earlier, they noticed her eyes being closed this time, remaining only slightly unnerved as their disguise kept moving underneath them. Sue's hands blindly felt around their pudding-like body until she found the corners of their rag, the motions that followed determined and shaky. One knot, second knot, time to open her eyes—and hope they wouldn't immediately fall out.

To Sue's utmost surprise, her plan worked. A small bundle rested on the sand beside her, the being inside confused more than anything else. A couple of dark tendrils were reaching out through whichever openings there were, but the bulk of their body remained contained. Behold, a baby in a bag.

Getting up from the ground without a crutch, while possible, turned out to be a struggle in its own right—especially once she had to apply any leverage on her still-injured leg. Teeth were gritted and grunts were mumbled, but eventually Sue got up entirely on her own, the bundle in her hand. Singular hand.

It only then really hit her just how small the stranger was. They weren't quite baseball-sized, but they were close, making Sue think of a large orange. With how magical everything and everyone here was, there was no reason they had to constrain themselves to any biologically feasible body sizes, of course, but the realization still took her aback.

Just a lil' bagful of a baby.

With the aforementioned magical weirdness in mind, Sue sure didn't expect Astra to be taken aback by the stranger, either. To her immediate relief, the dragon's surprise wasn't laced with any underlying terror and faded soon after she'd sat down beside her. Joy was even less skittish—she spotted the ominous, clawed limb reaching out from Sue's bag, but it had only barely slowed her down in her dash toward her big friend's lap.

And as Joy did, seeing Sue's affection towards the bagful of stranger, she attempted to pet them herself.


[PokeCommunity.com] Another Way


By the amazing @LeafBunny Studios!​


Sadly, the pitch-black being didn't react well to that, immediately withdrawing all the way into their bag and startling Joy. Sue didn't want either of them to feel bad, and while being held close to her front wasn't a cure for anything, it still helped both of them out a lot.

A part of the Forest Guardian considered getting up right away and trying to talk to... someone about all this. The uncertainty about who was even the correct person to go over all this with, as well as the desire to not overwhelm the lil' stranger, made her remain in her seat for now—just in time for stuff to start happening elsewhere around the clearing.

A loud, sing-song whistle perked Sue's and Joy's heads alike, making them lean in unison from behind Astra towards the source of the sound. Sue only faintly recognized the blue cloud bird and had no idea whatsoever about their name, but each time she'd seen them before, they were looking over the Moonview's youth—as was the case here.

Regardless of whether they were singing or speaking, their vocalizations sounded just as nice. Sue's attempt to fish out some of the very few words she knew of Moonview's language proved entirely fruitless, annoying her more than usual by the virtue of just how impossible this language was starting to feel. The way the little ones over in Newmoon each said their words differently made it clear that there was a lot of flexibility in pronunciation, but this went beyond that.

For a good while, the bird's noises were just a single, continuous whistle, with only very few other sounds getting mixed in once they started talking to the leafy mantis. Were these brief pauses, sing-song trills, and barely audible pops supposed to be a part of this language? Were they just how that species naturally sang? Sue neither knew nor had any way to gain that information at the moment, frustrating her further. And, as if to spite her even more, the cloud bird soon noticed their group too.

Having to watch over Joy a few days back let Sue know acutely just how much undue, negative attention the toothy girl received. With that memory still raw in her recollection, she was of half a mind to act obnoxious towards the bird for leering at the harmless child hugging her front—but then, she realized that the cloud bird wasn't staring at Joy.

They were staring at her.

They were afraid of her.

Her sixth sense wasted no time in pointing these facts out for all they were worth. It felt dreadful, even more so once Sue saw the actions that followed, their cloud-like wings gently urging gathered tykes towards a spot further away from her. Was it something she'd done? Or… or was it being seen with a night kin? The realization made Sue shift her glare down at the grass in front of her as a sludge of anger and sorrow churned in her mind.

What's your fucking problem!? Why are you so scared of bloody Ginger!?

An attempt to distract herself from that unpleasant topic by looking around the clearing some more found nothing more than further fuel for her anxious mind. The pink scorpion bat hadn't gone anywhere, now chatting with the half-plant, half-insect Splitleaf. Despite this being the mantis' duty as a caretaker, Sue was still pissed off at her for comforting the bat with Joy being so afraid of them.

And they'd never apologize, because why would they!? Joy was a savage freak of nature who should be ostracized; the night kin were savage freaks of nature who should be ostracized; the little one in the bag probably fell into that category, too. Of course, they'd only find suffering and misery in this fucking place—

Sue was hyperventilating by the time she'd finally noticed Joy's tighter embrace, delivered after the girl's attempts to catch her attention had failed. Her spiral of anger left her body shaking, the rumble of blood rushing through her head eclipsing all other sound.

More likely than not, she had this entire situation wrong. She'd just misheard, mis-sensed, or misjudged, and she was well aware of that. None of those realizations really helped at the moment, that's for sure, especially not with the well-being of so many people she cared for being left to the whims of the masses.

Even despite her hug snapping Sue out of the worst of her steadily creeping fury, Joy wasn't done yet—not while her friend remained so upset about something. With a scramble, a grab, and a pointing of her hand, she communicated the need to Astra in spite of the ever-present language barrier—and the dragon knew exactly what to do.

Sue wished Astra's embrace was enough.

In any other situation, the affection, the awareness that someone was there for her, would've been deeply calming. But not this time. If anything, it only made it worse, considering the chief source of her anger was something Astra had no idea about, and which Sue couldn't easily tell her about because of the language barrier. It all felt... dull.

Guess it was up to her to calm down on her own. Sue slunk her head as she took deep breaths, the movement of air through her body gradually airing out some of the burning, sticky anger. If there was anything Sue knew about that particular emotion, though, it was that it was very easy for it to intensify again on a complete whim. She had to continue, keep going until it was all gone—much easier said than done.

Though... maybe there was something she could try besides breathing.

Desperately trying to focus on anything but the source of her unpleasant emotions, Sue thought back to Solstice, teaching her how to link to others. She focused on the ever-important step of tuning out others' emotions so as not to get overwhelmed, growing easier and easier to perform with every attempt—and wondered if it would work on her, too.

As easy as it was to use her left arm to push away the surrounding feelings, Sue had a hard time thinking of how she'd do so internally. Suppose she could try to press her hand into herself? Placing it on her chest wasn't an option, for obvious reasons, which left a spot further down her torso. Hand on her stomach, anger on her mind. Deep inhale, and—

Release.

Sue's eyes shot wide open as she went through her plan, the psychically enhanced exhale getting rid of... everything. The fiery indignation, the underlying sorrow, the immense concern for the amorphous child still sitting on her lap—nothing remained but a slightly chilly, soothing peace.

She had Calmed her Mind.

With that sudden shift also came the conscious realization that no fewer than two friends were in the middle of dispensing affection towards her, both of them very concerned. The mental numbness didn't let Sue reciprocate with her own worry, but she could still try returning their affection in kind as her body relaxed. "I'm okay now, don't worry," she reassured, her voice unnaturally flat—but still undeniably her.

With one hand navigating to hold Joy close and the other quickly checking up on the still nameless stranger, the scene had returned to how it was before. The toothy tyke was glad, Astra was relieved, and the goopy lil' one had fallen asleep at some point. Not a whole lot was happening—a fine opportunity to investigate something odd she'd sensed in the middle of that entire process.

Sue reached down to feel along the side of her torso, her expression entirely flat throughout. One by one, the pointed tip of her finger brushed along her ribs, feeling like they were just a millimeter or two under the skin's surface. One, two...

...sixteen, seventeen.

Almost all the way down to her hips.

Inspired by that discovery, Sue soon shifted her attention towards the other parts of her body, making the most of her disgust-proof altered mental state. Seven pairs of teeth, three incisors, and four molars filled a noticeably smaller mouth. The rest of her skull felt largely the same, aside from the spikes on the sides of her head.

She already knew that they tingled the same area of her brain that her old human ears used to tingle, and that her actual ears were somewhere around that area. The link between the spikes and human ears went further still, with the spikes similarly made of cartilage, bending easily and painlessly.

Thinness of her legs raised an interesting question of their internal anatomy. Without skipping a beat, Sue set out to find out for herself, brushing the pleats of her skin dress aside and bending the limb as much as she could.



Why is there a second bend a few inches off the ground?

Why is it bending the wrong way?

How come I only now noticed it?


Any disgust Sue might've had at the revelation was forcibly dulled out by the coolness filling her mind, but good Duck, did it almost push through, anyway.

Sue either didn't remember enough about or really wasn't about to test most of the rest of her anatomy. There was, of course, the horn-shaped elephant in the room right through her torso that begged to be investigated further. She remembered it being painful to the touch on her first day here and now was as good of an opportunity as any to check if that still held true—yes, it did.

Just like everything else in the moment, her pain was heavily dulled, letting her continue. An attempt to press on her horn from the side accomplished two things. One, it let Sue know that despite the forced calmness in her mind, the pain could still make her cry, even if the tears would then flow down an entirely flat expression. And two, it soothed her worries about that extremity being in any way brittle.

It was both deeply embedded in her torso, much like its appearance suggested, and very stiff, not giving even slightly under her touch. The more she felt it around, the more it made her think of a bone going straight across her body with something red covering it, its texture similar to chalk.

Before Sue's further efforts in bodily exploration could bring even more suffering onto herself, a loud call from further into the clearing caught her attention. Joy was ahead of her this time, running out towards the hissed sound before immediately freezing once she'd spotted something, afraid. It only took moments until she was back beside her friend, wetness in her eyes threatening to match Sue's.

The once-human wasn't the only one that noticed, of course. Astra's loud question had the metal girl sigh as she tried laying down on Sue's lap, front head facing away from the other kids. As opposed to Sue's mental freeze-induced idleness, though, the dragon could do something about the messy situation.

What exactly beyond getting up and walking over, Sue had no idea—but at least she was left with a better view of the scene afterwards.

She might've struggled to recall their names, but she distinctively remembered seeing both the green-cream snake and the floating white puffball with an attached head around the farm area. The former was carrying a small pile of green, spiky fruits in their tiny arms and long, leafy vines, handing out the treats to anyone who came—and that indeed included the pink bat whose sight had shot down Joy's hopes of grabbing a snack.

Right as they were about to hand the last fruit out, though, Astra's low voice caught their attention. The reptile conversation thankfully didn't last too long, its gist swiftly transferred. Both to the partially-plant snake, sending them slithering straight towards Sue with a green treat in their arms, and to the more-than-partially-asshole bat, making them reel in place and huddle away from the once-human's group.

Works for me.

Sue didn't expect a snake to be this emotive. Instead of stirring Joy out of her attempted grumpy nap, they joined her, resting their head on Sue's leg right beside the toothy girl, to the Forest Guardian's mixed reaction—if it hadn't been muted out, at least. Further committing to cheering Joy up, the snake pretended to pull the fruit out of thin air, smiling wider at Joy's harsh but genuine giggle. They then used a pair of vines to toss and juggle the treat to the tyke's amusement, her laughter growing louder each time the newcomer threw their gift even further into the air.

And then, right as they were about to launch it all the way up above the treetops, they sneakily moved it into Joy's arms, and gave her front head a couple of pats while at it. Joy's response remained untranslated, and it was clear enough that not even the snake was entirely confident about what they'd just heard. Thinking back, though, it sounded awfully similar to something else Sue had heard her say a few days back at the feast—"Th-thank you."

Both she and the grass snake got it at around the same moment, the latter squeaking in elation at the realization. Their hug might've been very brief, but it did wonders in cheering the metal girl up the rest of the way, leaving her eagerly waving them away once they'd rejoined the other kids. Sue's response was appropriately subdued, but that didn't make it any less appreciated.

Someone really enjoys having her maw pet.

Having intervened to help the little one under her watch, Astra soon returned to her previous spot, just out of the recently installed swing's trajectory. A light aftershock went through most of the clearing after she'd sat down—or rather collapsed—in her spot, but barely anyone was perturbed by it.

Except for the light green spider now on Astra's lap, looking around in confusion.

Despite the self-imposed mental restraints, Sue felt her mind shudder at the sight, a glance upwards revealing the string they had been hanging from just a few feet away from her. Figures they'd be confused about why they were on the ground all of a sudden.

Meanwhile, Joy was undertaking her own grand quest, one of opening this fruit she'd been given and getting to the oh-so-sweet insides. As hard as she'd tried, she couldn't quite pry it open with just her hands, making her grumble quietly. Of course, she had a much more effective tool for prying stuff open, but having someone hold it for her would be a lot of help.

*tap tap*

The sensation snapped Sue away from taking in every detail of the smiley-faced spider. Instead, she saw Joy not just handing, but outright shoving the treat she'd been given into her hand, its large spikes poking her slightly. Once she'd grabbed the berry, the little one got to the next step of her plan right away.

*c-crack!*

In what felt like a split second, Joy went from having her friend hold the green treat to biting down on it with the very side of her maw. The firm, green shell stood absolutely no chance against the metal teeth, the smallest bit of force almost snapping the fruit in half entirely. Glad as the toothy tyke was that her idea worked out, she knew that nobody would want to eat something that's been in her back mouth. As swiftly as she'd cracked the fruit's shell, she moved her maw away while turning to face the now punctured fruit, some fresh juice dripping from her maw's fangs.

It was only when Joy grabbed the fruit from her friend's hand and started prying it apart, did Sue's brain unstuck itself following the way-too-fast sequence of events. She might've been incapable of feeling much at the moment, but goodness did all this in such a quick succession push her limits—

*hissss-click-click*

Fear pounded away at Sue's quickly faltering mental block as she turned to face the source of the sound. Her heart only barely avoided leaping out of her chest at seeing the red spider that had almost taken her life, with her conscious mind having to hurriedly remind her crumbling composure that she'd met him before, with Solstice's aid no less. He was even wearing the same hat as on that day, the element of familiarity helping Sue a lot. Unfortunately, it did little considering the lack of a translation, but little was more than nothing.

As Sue felt emotions return to her body, one drop of fear at a time, both Dewdrop and what was presumably his offspring waved towards her from beside Astra's spot. Her arms shook as she returned the gesture, and her smile was only barely recognizable between the mental muzzle on her mind and the already present anxiety.

Before Sue's decidedly off expression could draw too much attention, though, Joy chimed in with snacks for everyone.

As annoying as her short size was, forcing her to constantly run around Sue, Joy didn't let it get to her. One by one, she handed the pieces of the green fruit she'd helped crack to everyone gathered—her two guardians, Dewdrop, their offspring, herself—heck, even the sleeping one got a piece left for them. Astra had to eat it shortly afterwards because of the juices staining the already dirty canvas, but it was the intent that mattered—and Joy's intent was immaculate.

Sue barely had the words for the creamy yellow flesh she bit into. 'Sweet' didn't cut it, 'saccharine' came short. Each little nibble cloyed her mouth with some of the most distilled sugariness she'd ever had. Not even actual candy was this sweet, and this thing had apparently grown on a plant!

Now the question is: Is this fruit actually good for you, or does sweet equal sinfully unhealthy for you in this world too?

Yet another intense sensation joining in on the mix eroded whatever remained of her forced calmness. Bliss on her tongue, spooks around her, disappointment at herself for still being afraid of Dewdrop despite having literally talked with him just a couple of days ago.

Concern for the amorphous little one, still asleep.

She supposed this was the best time for them to get a move on and start asking people around. Or get actual food for them that wasn't the sensation of 'sweet' manifested into a plant.

Can they even eat solid food?

...

How do they even eat?

The questions had no answers, but just airing them out to herself let Sue free some more of her brain space towards more productive topics. She might not have known almost anything about the little one, but someone in the village would, that much she was certain of. Just had to get up, much easier now that the spider family had taken their leave, and head out of the playground—oh, piss off.

Sue's stone-like expression cracked into one of distrust and animosity upon seeing the pink bat approach them. Her hand reached to hold Joy closer, the gesture inadvertently catching the lil' one's attention and making her spot the flying scorpion. A frightful squeak, a tight embrace—everything Sue had worried would happen, was.

As the Forest Guardian kept petting the top of her little friend's maw, the two beings trailing behind the bat kept encouraging them. Sue wasn't entirely trustful of Splitleaf, considering she saw her dispense affection towards the lil' pink shit only recently, but the same couldn't be said for the incredibly pleasant grassy serpent. Each time the pink bat faltered or slowed down, one of the two would encourage them to keep going, all the way until the three were at Sue's feet, Joy now hiding away from the bat's gaze.

Despite their best attempts to push on, the scorpion couldn't deny the mix of Joy's obvious distress and the Forest Guardian's scowl being... demoralizing, to put it lightly. They wanted to fly out of there; wanted to be literally anywhere but here; they had no idea how they'd accomplish what they were here for with Joy's fear and her friend's hostility—

They didn't know, but Splitleaf had a hunch.

Sue's eyebrow lifted from its stern position as the leafy mantis turned to chat to Astra, of all people. Whatever the topic was, it made the dragon look between the approaching group, Sue, and Joy, earlier confusion steadily thawing. She couldn't translate, and with Sue's uncertain appearance, she doubted if the handicapped Forest Guardian could either.

All of which left a... more direct approach. The dragon's reassurance got Joy to start unwinding from the creeping fear. Her eyes opened wider, little by little, as whichever words of encouragement that she understood did their magic. Sue could acutely tell that even despite Astra's best efforts, the effect wasn't all that massive, and Joy was still afraid.

Frankly, all she wanted was to tell that bat to fuck off in no uncertain terms—which was clear enough for Astra to know she'd have to intervene that way, too. As soft as the dragon was, her being able to casually pry Sue's arm away from holding Joy was a grave reminder of her strength. Her grasp was downright dainty, and yet, Sue couldn't get it to budge in the slightest no matter how hard she'd tried.

And so; Joy was left to let go of her friend and face her fear.

Her fear, on the other hand... reached a single pincer toward her.

The scene remained at an impasse for a solid while as the pink bat chittered something out. Their words were unsure, even slightly fearful, but, to the best of Sue's ability to tell, genuine. By her third attempt at wrangling her arm out of Astra's grasp, the realization of what was going on finally clicked into place. It sent her train of ever-angrier thought careening into the distance as her body unwound, her softening gaze glancing down at Joy.

I wonder if she's even aware that this is an apology.

Almost as if by magic, the moment Sue stopped straining, Astra let her arm go. Instead of keeping the toothy tyke away from her earlier harasser, Sue did her best to comfort her, her freed limb petting along her head and maw alike—including over the by-now barely visible scratch.

No matter how much Sue encouraged her, though, Joy remained rooted in place, her gaze glued to the floor. The once-human couldn't accept her apology for her, of course, but what she could do was help with translation. Or at least, she could've if she didn't feel so drained following her accidental self-calming. Despite her attempts to focus and wrangle her aura into shape, it either slipped from her grasp or proved too painful on her injury to keep going.

Sue kept her reactions down to not alert the others, but the atmosphere as a whole only kept growing darker. Splitleaf, in particular, grew somber over all of this, hanging her head low. It took so long just to make the bat get over their fear and shame enough to apologize, and now Joy was too scared, too confused, or both. In a way, it was a lesson in its own right, one about not all apologies getting accepted.

'I'm sorry' is no magic, after all.

Before the leafy mantis could turn that insight into a well-defined lesson in her head, the other side finally made a step forward. And another, and then a third. Joy was still too skittish to look directly up at the bat, but with Sue's reassurance, she kept inching closer. Grabbing the Forest Guardian's petting hand by one finger and holding it tight did wonders for her psyche, too.

Nobody else dared move as Joy made it through the last couple of paces. Her hand reached around blindly as she kept looking away, eventually brushing past the pink pincer and grabbing it as firmly as she could. Not much happened for the next few moments, both parties waiting for the other to do something while Sue contorted herself to let the lil' one keep holding her hand.

It was up to Splitleaf to intervene. Again. With a mostly unseen eye roll, she approached the most awkward instance of hand-holding in history and shook the two kids' hands. The motion made Joy's gaze finally snap over, her eyes locking with the bat. Stressful as it was for both of them, they knew they shouldn't be looking away if they wanted an apology to truly happen—and even despite her limited grasp of a situation, Joy did want that.

She didn't want people to be mean to her, but neither did she want them to be scared of her. Or for her to be scared of anyone else, as long as she knew she wouldn't be mistreated again...

Subdued as most of the apology was, though, Astra's loud cheer brought some more life into the scene. Both the leafy snake and Splitleaf broke into a quiet chuckle as Joy let go, and the two withdrew their hands. And then, shortly after, the toothy tyke released her grip of Sue's hand, letting her properly move again—and pull the brave girl into the tightest hug she could manage, pride dripping from her every gesture.

She did it; Joy managed it on her own, without even needing a translation. It was such immense progress from the first time they met, Sue could hardly believe it. A wide, dumb grin refused to wash from her face as she held the lil' one in her arms, rocking her side to side while Joy tried her absolute hardest to return even a slice of that hug.

"I'm so proud of you..." Sue beamed, tearing up just a bit. This was more than just being happy, so much more; her heart was clear enough about that. She wasn't just glad, but intensely proud of Joy, ecstatic at her reassurance and presence having helped her overcome her fears. It felt right, so incredibly right; she wanted to be here by Joy's side as she grew through thick and thin. Be her guardian, be her support, be someone she can trust and rely on no matter what, forever—

...

...

Forever.

The cursed quagmire of contradictions and despair that surrounded the subject of her return to Earth stopped Sue's euphoria instantly. The shift from a tight, firm embrace to Sue's entire body growing stiff was clear enough for Joy to sense too, a confused squeak only driving the unpleasant feelings further under her skin.

Why is this so FUCKING HARD!?

Sue gently lowered Joy down onto the grass before the tempest of emotions under her head could grow any further. As comforting as the metal girl's presence was for her and vice versa, Sue knew she needed to get out of here, now. "I-I'm sorry, Joy," she whimpered, looking away. "Just... n-need to get some fresh air. Take care Joy, t-take care Astra..."

She could feel their shared concern as she picked herself off the ground with the dragon's help. She had no idea how to soothe it, for them and herself alike—especially not now. All she could think of was getting away, and that's what she did soon after, one hand carefully holding the bundle with the stranger inside it as the other shakily waved at the pair.

She didn't even have it in her to look back at them as she departed the clearing. Before she could even take a step out of it, though, a well familiar sound caught her attention—one she knew would only bring her comfort. "H-hey, Spark," she greeted, exhausted.

Psychic or not yet one, the fiery kit recognized the gloom in her friend's voice all the same, her expression growing uncertain. Sue was incapable of responding beyond just shaking her head—despite that, she reassured, "It's fine."

It's not.

Right as Sue was about to leave for real, with or without Spark following her, another familiar sight brought a modicum of reassurance. She'd only seen this butterfly a few times and one was while she was panicking at everything and everyone, but seeing someone she recognized still made her feel better.

Doubly so, with the brown caterpillar in their arms immediately wiggling at seeing her. Their parent noticed, turning towards them and giving them a wave of their tiny hands and a couple exaggerated flaps of their almost pure white wings. Sue's brain jump-started itself just in time to connect the purple-bodied insect to a name Basil had told her a couple days back, Birch, before the insect in question flew off straight into the treeline after dropping his child off.

Guess whatever he does, it's way outside of Moonview. Figures, that's how I ran into him.

Warm nudge on her leg, and then another. Spark was right.

It was time to go.


Finding someone who could feasibly know something about the little one inside the bag turned out to be... difficult. Sue's mental list wasn't particularly long: Willow, Solstice, maybe the living bouquet, Orchid, too. Willow wasn't at their clinic, she'd rather bite on a brick than try talking to the plant-like medic after her outburst at Northeast earlier, and Solstice... yeah, no.

Left with nothing for answers, Sue decided to play it safe. Whatever this little one was, they ate something. Probably. They didn't have teeth, or other defined body parts for that matter, so they most likely couldn't eat solid food. It was time for soup, regardless of how little Sue herself cared for it most of the time.

With no idea of which cook around the clearing specialized in which meals, Sue was only left with the fallback option of Poppy and Hazel's stall. She really, really didn't care for seeing the latter again, and hoped to ducking Duck she'd at least leave her alone this time. And if not...

...

She'd probably just get angry again or something. What else was she to do?

Thankfully, the first impression of Hazel had the ghost not wanting to interact with her any more than the other way around. The spooky prankster let out a long groan before withdrawing further into the kitchen, leaving the fairy cook to handle orders this time. A part of Sue worried about Poppy being just as hostile towards her, but fortunately her reactions didn't extend beyond a mild unease at the whole messy situation.

Sue sure wasn't feeling like miming a meal right now, which left linking up with her. Her horn didn't like the idea, but was outvoted 1-0. Focus her mind, tune out emotions, reach out with her aura, aaaaaaand linked—just need to insert dial-up noises somewhere in there.

Doing the entire routine with one hand occupied by a bundle of snoozing something made it all feel even more awkward than usual, that's for sure.

"...you good?" Poppy asked, eyebrow creeping upwards by the moment.

Right, gotta talk.

"Yes, yes, I'm good. I wanted to grab some soup for... them," Sue answered, accentuating her request by pointing directly at the sleeping bundle.

Poppy had no idea what she was even looking at, leaning over the counter and squinting at the... thing. "Hon, is bag," she explained, deadpan.

Sue groaned. "No, it's not a bag. There's something, someone inside it. They're there, you can feel it, just don't try looking at them." She was uncertain about handing over the bag for the fairy to inspect in person, but figured that if it would stop any more stupid questions, it was worth it. Probably.

She really hoped so.

With more hesitation than she would admit, Sue carefully placed the grapefruit-sized bundle on the pantry's counter. Poppy might've initially thought that the Forest Guardian had gone bonkers, but it didn't take long for her to realize that Sue was telling the truth. The inside of the bundle was warm, amorphous, and judging by the bag's condition, not wet. "Darn. They soup?" Poppy asked, intrigued.

Sue was deeply uncertain about how to interpret the question. She opted to answer both interpretations, covering her bases at the cost of making her look even dumber than she already was. "They're not soup, and I don't know if they eat soup. I figure that if they eat anything, it's soup or juice, but I'm not sure—"

Hazel's gruff comment cut Sue off before she could finish making a dumbass of herself, catching everyone but her by surprise. After a couple of stunned moments, Spark woofed a question out loud, and then another, with Hazel answering both of them with an unusual seriousness and intent. Even without an impossibly large smile, the ghost's expression was still incredibly attention catching with her humongous red eyes.

Sue was just glad it wasn't focused on her this time, at least.

With Spark having asked her questions, Poppy followed soon after, letting Sue get a glimpse into what was even going on—"How ghost? Warm. Is."

...hold on, what?

Hazel's answer was slightly more elaborate this time as she pointed at the bag and then at herself. Despite her best efforts, neither Spark nor Poppy were entirely convinced. "Can walk walls?" the cook asked. "Bag?"

A short, gruff response, the associated emotions the equivalent of a dismissive shrug. A longer, much firmer comment followed soon after, one that had Hazel stare up at Sue directly. Unnerving as the sight was, though, Sue could tell that it wasn't accompanied by hostility or even mischief, not this time. Instead, curiosity and… hope.

"Okay, okay," Poppy nodded at her partner before turning to Sue, "Hazel say bag ghost. No eat."

Sue blinked dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the translated words as she picked the bundle of lil' one up again. "B-but they're warm, and they're filling it up, and—"

Poppy shook her head. "Hazel say important not. Ghost."

Suppose if there was any being who'd know for sure it'd be a fellow ghost, but... it was still so hard to comprehend. How could this of all beings be a ghost? Was their ghost-ness related to their brain-melting curse when looked at? How did Hazel know with certainty? Why did they feel so young—

*whiiiiiiiiIIIISTLE!*

The loud sound was followed by the sensation of an even louder aura approaching fast, soothing in its familiarity. Before Sue could even finish turning around, she was scooped into the air and held firmly by Lilly's leafy arms as the plant girl's mischief bloomed into glee. She took a moment to finish reeling after the sudden emotion swing before embracing all she could reach with her free arm, the dancer's jubilant whistle warming her heart even more. "I-I'm so happy to see you too, Lilly!"

Lilly's realization that Sue couldn't understand her clicked audibly into place, making her look around in search of anyone who could help. Or at least, that's what Sue assumed, interrupting Lilly with a couple pats to catch her attention before shaking her head. Before doing anything else, though, thanks were in order. "Th-thank you for your help, Poppy!" she smiled at the cook—and sighed, a little pesky part of her that wanted to remain fair speaking up. "And pass my thanks to Hazel, too..."

With the last of the thanks being passed out, Sue could disconnect from Poppy and link up with Lilly, the dancer finding her friend's psychic antics ticklish. One, two, push past the growing pain, and let's talk. "H-hey Lilly."

"Sue!" Lilly squeaked, holding her that bit tighter. "Happy you have. Much, much. Yesterday... scary. Scary, scary..."

'Scary' was one good word to describe the entire mess that had transpired yesterday. Awful as it had been, though, it was in the past, and the past was the last thing Sue wanted to think about, especially when Lilly was in the middle of carrying her around.

Doubly so once Lilly's admission began to melt through her joy, revealing everything that lurked under the surface. Anxiety about what had happened during the chaotic mess of yesterday, stress from work, and especially Root. Loathing about not having been able to intervene when she'd spotted Sue next to the Pale Lady's shrine.

Self-consciousness about just being a dumb, stilted farmhand.

"It was, yeah. Could we take a seat there?" Sue asked, worried.

Lilly got to walking right away, simultaneously too sad and too concerned about possibly injuring Sue to bound towards the bench like she'd usually do. The former factor kept growing ever larger, Lilly's impeccable poise waning with her every step.

The very instant Sue's backside had touched that bench, she pulled her crush friend into the tightest hug she could manage, her unexpected outburst of attention briefly stunning Lilly. The plant girl's counterattack came soon after, in all its borderline-rib-crushing glory.

Sue wouldn't want it any other way. "I'm here Lilly, I'm here, it's okay," she reassured. "Everything's going to be alright." Regardless of how little Sue believed in that last point, she sure wanted Lilly to believe in it.

"Thank, thank, *sniff*. Not know what happen. Very stupid," Lilly whimpered.

Sue could tell the plant girl was referring to herself with the last couple of words. All it did was redouble her efforts, the little one still in her hand, as she raised her voice—"You're not stupid, Lilly! You're wonderful. I-I genuinely loved the time we spent together."

The plant girl trembled at the outpouring of reassurance, doubly so when it was further enhanced by Spark nuzzling her from her other side. "True?" she asked, uncertain.

"Yes, really! You're charming, and kind, and funny! Why would I be lying?" Sue insisted.

Framing the question like that made Lilly flinch, and Sue only try harder still to comfort her. Still, the dancer wanted to be truthful. Her body language shrunk and trembled as she spoke up, eyes closing in embarrassment. "Because stupid. Farmhand. Confused yesterday. Know much not. Just farmhand. Talk bad."

The framing of her helping at the farms as a negative thing made Sue think back to yesterday, to how Root had spoken of Lilly right before Sue left Moonview—

...

And considering just how that very priest had treated her later that day, there was a definite link between the two. In most other circumstances, it would've been enough to get Sue incensed all over again, but her own anger didn't matter right now. Lilly came first, and she needed all the reassurance Sue had in her.

"You're not stupid, Lilly, I really mean it," Sue insisted, calming her voice down. "Yesterday was a mess for everyone. I saw a lot of it and I'm still confused about just what had happened. You help feed everyone here, and that's a wonderful thing to be doing! You talk differently than most, sure, but that's not a bad thing. I..." Sue trailed off, flinching and persevering through some of her earlier emotions. "I really like you like this. You're amazing like this. I—I want to get to know you better like this."

Before the plant girl could do anything else, Sue shifted her hug until Lilly's head rested on her chest, right beside her horn. The Forest Guardian felt everything inside the dancer's mind in vivid clarity—her doubts, her fears, her ever-raw insecurities, all of them soothed by the moment. Despair gave way to uncertainty, and then, bit by bit, to her usual confidence.

As she opened her eyes, Lilly saw the impact yesterday had left on her crush friend from very close up. In an instant, she shelved her loathing for later, replacing it with nothing but concern for Sue. "Sue, happen what!? Hurt you! And, what bag!?"

By its own, the bag in the Forest Guardian's hand would've been scarcely interesting—but the several small, black tentacles reaching out from it made it go from mundane to alarming in an instant. Lilly had almost swatted the possible threat away before Sue undid her hug and brought the bundle in front of herself, immediately speaking up afterwards—"I'll tell you what happened in a moment, Lilly. This... bag, there's someone inside it. A little ghost, I think."

Spark's woofs had confusion and worry dripping from them at the sight, but Sue continued. "I don't know who, or even what, they are. I know they look scary, but they're just alone, scared, and very little. Whoever they are, whatever they are..." she trailed off as they all watched a black tentacle slowly wrap itself around Sue's wrist, shaking as it clung to their guardian. "They need me. I want to be here for them."

To say Lilly was taken aback was an understatement of the century. The bag, the creature within it, their weird appearance—she had no idea what was up with them, her insecurity aggravated by not knowing yet another important thing. Whatever was happening, though, Sue was convinced. Sue wanted to help them. And Lilly...

With a shaky motion, the leafy dancer reached her hand over towards the bundle, pressing its flat side into it and feeling the warmth radiating from the inside.

...wanted to be here for Sue. "Want help," she reassured, leaning closer into the bundle. "Know how not. But want."

A few stray tears forced their way past Sue's eyelids as she slid as close to Lilly as possible, the dancer's free hand holding her close. They watched as the little one wrapped their tentacle around Lilly's arm, the palpable warmth making her lean in closer.

"Thank you s-so much, Lilly. We'll figure it out, I-I'm sure of it. As to what had happened..." Sue shuddered, going over the events in her mind as she lowered her ghost-holding hand down onto her lap, letting Spark take a couple sniffs of the stranger.

"Let's start from the beginning, then..."



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 23: Namesake



Sue's strained breathing was the only sound filling their nook of the clearing by the time she was done with her retelling.

She wasn't sure when exactly Spark had left, only that she did at some point, and the Forest Guardian couldn't blame her. There's only so much tending to a soggy mess of a friend anyone can handle before they just want to retreat to something more reassuring.

Lilly only grew more concerned with Sue's every sentence, culminating with holding her tight to her front, as if afraid she would fly off and get herself gravely hurt again. The actual events she had described were... harrowing, scary, unnerving. All of those and more; the grave injustice at the center of it all, the denial of positive change at the hands of a single maddened owl, visible to her, too. By the time Sue was done with her retelling, though, the political situation between Moonview and Newmoon had taken a back seat to something else in Lilly's mind.

Sue might've already gone over all this more times within the past few hours than anyone ought to in their lifetime, but if anything, it only made her react harder to her own recollection. Both at the obviously distressing parts—Alastor's attack, the tension, the near-death—but also at what happened afterwards. Tears gathered in her eyes when she mentioned trying to sleep last night, waking up, her angry outburst earlier today…

So far from the Sue the leafy dancer knew, the impact of the stress over the past couple days made abundantly clear. It made Lilly ask about it—and then again, a few sentences later. About how it all impacted Sue, about whether she was holding alright, whether she needed more help.

Each time, Sue answered with nervous shaking, a visible fight against her own body to not cry any more, a thick silence that simultaneously concealed and revealed so much—and then, soon after, a polite rejection.

Because what can I even say here?

Sue wasn't coping with her inability to explain what was wrong any better than Lilly was. She wanted to let it out, to release her tension. About her, about everyone else here, about this world and her tattered mental state whenever she tried thinking any of this through—but she couldn't.

Lilly didn't deserve to deal with this weight.

The weight of Sue's struggles, the nigh-indescribable pressure of knowing that her stay here might be temporary. Of course, that concern had more selfish undertones, ones which Sue was well aware of and didn't hesitate to kick herself over.

Despite how much she might've loathed herself for it... Sue wanted this. To be held, to be comforted, to have someone she could confide in. Someone who adored her, someone she adored. And if being truthful with them carried a serious risk of them running away because they obviously wouldn't want to stick with an extra-dimensional alien that might just disappear on the spot...

I'm being so fucking scummy.

The thought stirred more and more tears inside Sue as they both sat in silence, Lilly's hug tightening by the moment. It was the one realization she couldn't even try to fight or paint as mere self-loathing. It was true, and Sue hated it, she hated herself for it, and she deserved all this suffering for being willing to lie like that—

"Sue?" Lilly whispered, her leafy arms holding the Forest Guardian that bit closer.

Strained breaths were Sue's only answer as her body fruitlessly tried to calm down. Regardless of how deserved it was, Lilly's concern was there and downright palpable to the Forest Guardian. It was accompanied by her warm, soothing care, a tangible desire for Sue to feel better, expressed with a restrained embrace and careful stroking of her shoulder.

"I'm... I'm here, Lilly." Sue answered, her voice weak. "I'm sorry, it's—"

"You talk want anything?"

So many things. All of them utterly, hopelessly terrifying.

Sue shook her head. "I'll be fine. Don't worry, Lilly." And it was the plant girl's concern, her care, her desire to help, that Sue needed to run away from, somehow. To keep the rot inside her hidden. Another distraction was in order, and the clingy kiddo on her lap would provide just that. "I think they're curious about you."

Two of their black tentacles were still firmly wrapped around Sue, with a third slowly reaching in Lilly's general direction. Sue was glad they had largely just calmed down as they all sat here, still clinging to her many minutes later. "Can lift look?" Lilly asked.

"Sure, just not inside the bag. Heh..." Sue chuckled. It was the most mirthless chuckle of her life, and despite having known her for only a few days now, Lilly could tell.

One more concerned look at the Forest Guardian later, the leafy girl carefully cupped her arm underneath the bundle and lifted it up before her, inspecting it from all around. The ghost inside the bag was less than enthused about that, though, fearfully shuddering the moment they left Sue's lap.

Before Lilly even noticed, Sue was already reaching over to cup the bundle's side with her hand. Her touch had an immediate impact, the little one relaxing as they wrapped a tentacle around her hand again. "Sorry, they got scared there," she explained, wanting to shrivel.

"No sorry!" Lilly reassured. "Glad help you." Her whistled voice was unusually focused for her, eyes narrowing as she inspected a part of the sack. Sue was of half a mind to try craning her head and see what her friend was looking at by the time Lilly finally spoke up, her words... confusing. "Sue, say in bag bad?"

Sue's attempt to parse the sentence failed, leaving her blinking a few times before going with the best hunch she could put together. "Yes, looking in the bag is bad for you. Why do you ask, Lilly?"

Lilly's answer was wordless, but no less surprising because of that. She rotated the bag in her grasp as she moved it closer to Sue, the subject of the leafy dancer's earlier focus now clearly visible to the Forest Guardian as well.

There was a small hole in the bag's side, and a pair of pinprick eyes were looking out of it.

Sue gasped at seeing it, trying to maintain enough concentration to look away in case the sight would end up affecting her again, but... it didn't. She stared at the small patch of the void, and it stared back, and all she felt was a slightly unnerving sensation in the back of her mind. Still conscious, still present.

Were those their… "I... I think that's their eyes," Sue pointed out, stunned. "They're looking at us."

"Think you?"

It was a hunch for which Sue didn't have any actual evidence... yet. Her head perked up as she came up with a way to test the idea, lifting her hand in front of the small tear and moving it around from side to side—and the pair of twinkles followed with her movements. "Yeah, see? They're looking at my hand."

It was all the proof Lilly needed. Pushing through her earlier worries, she turned the opening to face her as she put on her most welcoming expression and tone of voice, singing, "Hiiii! Hello little. Here Moonview, Lilly I."

"I don't think they can underst—"

"This Sue! She you find," Lilly added, turning the bag's hole to face Sue and giggling at her stupefied expression. "Sue, welcome say!"

Right, right, gotta greet them, uhhh—

"H-hello there. I-I hope you're alright," Sue tried to smile, her expression so shaky a stray gust of wind could've easily blown it away.

Her hand didn't fare any better as she waved timidly, a part of her worrying about potentially overwhelming them. The concern made her awkwardly stop mid motion; the resulting flinch reverberated through her body as she withdrew her arm—only to see another tentacle emerge from the incomprehensible bag, and clumsily wave in return. "Sue, they waved you!" Lilly swooned. "Awwwwww!"

The dancer was as elated at the scene as Sue was surprised. She needed a moment to come through before a much more confident smile started creeping on her expression. The reassurance made her try waving again, and once again, the gesture was returned—it seemed they understood that much, at least. "Yeah, they—they did. Wish I could speak with you and them at the same time," Sue sighed.

"Can not you?"

Sue shook her head. "No, not right now. I'm... still learning all this."

"Should ask Solstice you! Help she sure!"

"^That's not a bad idea at all,^" a tired, weary voice added, making both women jump as they looked up at its source.

As much as Sue had been dreading for her, Solstice looked... fine. She felt down, her expression was visibly weary, and Comet was clinging to her so hard in her arms that he hadn't even reacted to Sue showing up, but... she expected to see worse, deep down.

"Hi hi Solstice! Talk with Sue I—" Lilly stopped as she glanced up at the sky in shock; the three psychics around her left startled until she elaborated. "So late! Need back harvest! Sorry sorry Solstice—"

"^Don't worry Lilly, it's okay. Especially since it seems like you've had a good reason to be here, heh...^" Solstice chuckled, the sound accompanied by the world's weakest smile.

Lilly certainly appreciated the leniency, and a large part of her wanted to push the envelope even further and stay here until Sue got better, but... she knew it wasn't up to her, and she'd rather not fall afoul of Root even more than she already had. Especially not with him as furious as he'd gotten yesterday. "Sue, need go I. Hope hope good you soon!"

Before Sue could even respond to the well wishes, Lilly's tight squeeze lifted her from her seat and shook her around for good measure. It hurt a bit, but... goodness, did she need all the physical comfort in the world right now. "I hope so too," she gasped from between Lilly's arms. "I-I really appreciate you being here. Thanks, Lilly, t-take care—"

*smooch!*

With her one last gesture of affection tingling her cheek, Sue watched Lilly dash toward the farms, occasionally turning around mid-jump just to sneak in a couple more waves, the Forest Guardian stunned throughout.

That feels nice. Not deserved, but... nice.

"^Why wouldn't it be deserved?^"

Oh.

As much as Lilly's antics had warmed her up somewhat, Sue didn't want to burden Solstice with her mental muck, especially not right now. Maybe down the line once the dust has settled, and they both got a breather to just process everything they've been through, but not now.

Now, Sue wanted the comfort to flow in the other direction, looking up at the Mayor as she patted the seat Lilly had just gotten up from. "It's... a lot. It's probably best if I tell you some other time."

Thankfully, Solstice didn't oppose that misdirection, even if she clearly saw it for what it was. Regardless of how dissatisfied she might've been with that fact, she really didn't have it in her to be someone else's emotional support right now—certainly not to the extent she sensed Sue would need one. Sundance would've been able to listen, but... she couldn't, not now.

Still, a chat wouldn't hurt. "^Alright. Are you... doing okay overall, Sue?^" the Mayor asked as she sat down beside her student.

"I'm... fine. What... what happens now? With the night kin and all..."

Solstice flinched in her seat, making Sue regret asking. She couldn't hold her pupil's curiosity against her—if there was anyone in the whole Moonview who really deserved to know it was her, but...

Like Sue already knew, explaining the same distressing thing to the umpteenth person can grind one down to dust. "^There'll be a meeting of the Elders' Council later today to discuss just that. That's all I can really say right now,^" Solstice explained, distraught.

The once-human nodded weakly in response, the explanation making her even more worried than before. "Do you think they'll be alright?"

Solstice didn't answer right away, torn between wanting to remain truthful and not wanting to distress Sue even further. "^We'll see.^"

The biggest non-answer that had ever non-answered, and they were both well aware. Not much either of them could do about it, though. For a while, the two Forest Guardians just sat in silence beside one another, each with a clingy child of their own. As eerie as an almost entirely quiet Comet was, the nameless one on Sue's lap still had him beat in that regard, mostly because of his appearance.

Solstice knew better than to freak out at seeing a black, warbling tentacle reach out from inside the canvas bag on her pupil's lap, but she couldn't deny being confused all the same. As good of a change of topic as any. "^So... seems you've run into someone, eh Sue?^" she asked.

Sue's chuckle was so weak it was almost inaudible. "Yeah, I suppose. It's more like they ran into me. They..." she bit her tongue, uncertain of how Solstice would respond to the little ghost having attempted to impersonate Comet. As non-convincing as their disguise was, it didn't really negate them having tried in the first place.

Here goes nothing...

"They disguised themselves as Comet, after seeing me carrying him a few days ago. I ran into them at the playground, then their costume broke, and then I stayed with them to see if they were alright. Hazel said something about them being a ghost, and their body, or at least the bulk of it, does... something weird to you if you look at it. It's like you can't think at all. I've no idea what they are, but... they're not hostile, or harmful when they're covered up like this."

As Sue went on, Solstice cautiously lowered her hand to let them grasp it, seeing for herself just how warm their touch was—just like that of a living being. "^I see. I'm not sure what they could be, but from what you've described they must be very lonely—^" the Mayor paused, suddenly realizing something. Her sudden mental shift made Sue flinch, her heart rate jumping as she awaited Solstice's words, hoping it wouldn't involve any more misfortune coming the lil' ghost's way. "^Actually, I think I remember Sundance describing something like them one time.^"

Sue's focus was now squarely on her mentor, the change in mood sufficient to shake Comet out of his focus, too. He still wasn't quite as lively as she'd seen him be a few days ago, but a shaky wave and a handful of squeaky toddler noises definitely beat depressed silence, stirring a weak smile on Sue's face. Which only made the tyke livelier in turn, and so on, as his mom spoke. "^Yeah, she did. From what I can recall, they... by the Pale Lady, they are supposedly ghosts of unhatched eggs. Never had an actual body to be their own before death, and are cursed to remain formless and longing afterwards. She also mentioned something about the usual practice for dealing with them being to... banish them, so that they can finally move on.^"

By the time Solstice was done, Sue could barely breathe.

Every single word of that hurt, the hand that once cupped the lil' ghost having since been promoted to keeping them pressed against her front, just so that they knew she wouldn't leave them, even through the harrowing revelation at the end. It felt wrong; it felt vile; the mere thought made Sue want to scream at the injustice. None of that was lost on the Mayor, especially not as the tiny black tentacle kept holding her hand.

None of that was necessarily true, either. "^Again, that's just what I can recall from Sundance's words,^" Solstice stressed. "^She'd be the first one to go on about her recollection of the events not always being the best either, heh. Could be that all that was wrong, but even if it's right...^" she moved her tentatively held hand to rest on top of the bundle, right beside her pupil's grasp. "^That doesn't mean we'd need to follow those instructions, especially with them being at peace with you. Ghost of an egg or not, if they're happy here, then that's all that matters.^"

Solstice doubled down on her reassurance by wrapping her arm around Sue, pulling her in that bit closer. They might've both felt foul to a lesser or greater extent, but that didn't mean they couldn't comfort one another.

It wasn't much, but was still so much more than letting the idle, suffocating silence continue.

As quickly as Sue had grown unnerved at her mentor's tale, the clarification provided an equally swift relief. Especially regarding its core thrust, the part she was concerned about the most, the one that wouldn't have let her sleep had it been true.

I'm not hurting them. I'm not hurting them. At least I'm not hurting them.

"^No, no you're not. You're doing a good thing Sue, I promise.^"

It took Sue the utmost effort to keep her tears from spilling all over her cheeks in response. Such a simple sentence, such an immense relief, especially after the struggles and horrors of the past few days. "Th-thank you."

For a while, Sue just sat in silence as she was being tended to; each of Solstice's many pets forwarded to the lil' hauntling. The entire group gradually relieved the immense strain filling their bodies and minds alike—Comet included.

Despite the unpleasant tension still lingering all around him, he couldn't resist giving in to his curiosity after sensing the stranger on his friend's lap. With his mom feeling better and now Sue as well, there was no better opportunity to see who they were. And maybe even give them a big hug, too.

Comet liked his hugs.

His desire to be lowered down onto her mom's lap was expressed through a weak telekinetic force pushing at her arm. Solstice got the message right away, paying close attention to her son afterwards lest he'd use the opportunity to try falling off her thighs. Again.

Instead, he sat down and crawled over to the ghost on Sue's lap, their emotions no less turbulent than those of his mom and friend. Frightened, comforted, deeply uncertain about what was going on or what was gonna happen next. In dire need of more comfort.

Just the thing Comet was made for.

*pat pat*

The psychic trio felt a fearful flinch go through the bag in response to Comet's attempted affection. Not one of outright terror, but still unnerved, the unpleasant emotion soon spreading to Comet via proximity.

"Shhhh, shhhh, don't worry sweetie," Sue shushed, holding the stranger closer. "Comet just wants to say hi." Even with Solstice's translation, the ghost's grasp on what their guardian was saying was... limited. Many of the details were lost in the fog of confusion, but thankfully, not the gist.

Everything is alright. The stranger is a friend. You're safe.

I'm not going anywhere.

Meanwhile, Comet received similar support from his mom. The two tykes couldn't have looked any more different if they'd tried, but beneath the skin—or in the ghost's case, cloth—they really were almost the same. 'Almost' was an important quantifier, as evidenced by the lil' Forest Guardian doubling down on his comfort shortly after, thankfully to a much better reception. "^They feel so little,^" Solstice cooed. "^Poor sweetie. Do they have a name?^"

Sue shook her head in resignation, the question of name one she had no idea how to tackle. "No. They haven't responded when I tried speaking to them sooner. Aren't responding now, either. Can't really name them like that..."

"^Why not?^"

The unexpected question perked Sue up, leaving her uncertain how to answer. "I-I don't want to give them a name they'll dislike, o-or regret..."

"^If they turn out to dislike it, you can give them another. Or if they figure out how to communicate, they can choose one for themselves later,^" Solstice explained.

As simple as the explanation was, Sue had difficulties really wrapping her head around it on an intuitive level. "Just—just give them another name? How's that work?"

It was Solstice's turn to be stunned, the disconnect between her own and Sue's ways of thinking starker than ever and with no obvious cause she could immediately sense. "^...the usual way?^"

The non-answer forced Sue to flex her remaining neurons, much to the displeasure of all four of them. What did Solstice mean by 'just changing a name'? Wouldn't there be an entire hassle—

...

No, there wouldn't.

As blatantly obvious a realization as it was in hindsight, there wasn't anyone here keeping track of people's names. No magical pieces of paper or plastic tied to a singular, specific string of letters, no vast, ancient databases with one cranky, opinionated bastard in charge. Name wasn't a magical key to one's identity here, it was just... what one wished to be called. And if someone wanted to be referred to differently, then all they'd need to do was tell others. Especially in a place as small as Moonview, where that kind of stuff could easily spread by word of mouth.

Suppose the leniency with names made much more sense with that in mind. "I... see, now," Sue muttered, filling a bit stupid. "That's just... not how my world worked, my bad."

Solstice smiled. "^All's good, Sue~. I got a glimpse of what you were thinking about and... goodness it sounds like such a mess to deal with where you're from.^"

"Oh, you have no idea," Sue sighed.

"^I would've been screwed with this being my third name, ha...^"

"Third?"

Solstice flinched at the question before composing herself and slowly nodding. Before Sue could ask what was wrong, the Mayor continued, her free hand stroking Comet's stiff hair. "^Yes. In my clan... two, three, sometimes even four names are the norm. The very first one is given to you once you hatch and while you remain a Moon Child, usually the silliest and most whimsical. Liiiiike 'Comet', teehee.^"

The mention of his own name got the Moon Child in question to squeak out loud, and turn around in his seat to look up at his mom, nearly making himself dizzy in the process. "^Yep, I'm talking about you sweetie~. Love you,^" Solstice smiled, holding her son closer—much to his immediate, elated squeaks.

Both Solstice and Sue needed the resulting wave of giggles more than words could convey. "Moon Child…" Sue continued, "is that how Comet's... eh..."

"^Yes, that's the name for his form specifically. He'll evolve into his second form when he's close to three years old. Some call them 'Stardancers', some call them 'Twirl Fairies'. It's not as settled as 'Moon Child' is. If he wants, he'll get another name then, a more 'serious' one.^"

Sue had a hunch about what that 'serious' name could be. For a good while, she hesitated to ask it, not wanting to bring her mentor any more grief... but Solstice noticed all the same. It made her wince, but only that, composure preventing her from getting affected by it any harder. "^Yes, like 'Aurora',^" the Mayor nodded, her voice growing quiet.

The younger Forest Guardian flinched. "S-sorry—"

"^No, don't be, Sue. I won't say it doesn't hurt, but... the sooner I'm able to talk about her without breaking down, the better,^" Solstice figured. Her reasoning made sense, but that didn't mean she'd get to escape further comfort from her pupil, delivered with all the confidence Sue could muster. "^Thank you. Now, where was I. I think I already mentioned it in the past, but at around eleven to twelve years of age, one evolves into their last form, most commonly the one we share, the 'Forest Guardian'.^"

...most commonly?

"Is there a different form?" Sue tilted her head.

"^Indeed, though it's a very rare one. Only for males, and only after they settle out on a pilgrimage to a sacred shine far in the north, which holds... I believe it's some sort of artifact that allows the evolution into that other form.^"

Despite having interacted with ghosts, illusionist foxes, floating ice creatures and many varieties of living plants, this was the one explanation that Sue just couldn't buy. "...why only males?" she asked, somewhere between offended and dumbstruck. "And why that specific... 'artifact'?"

"^Hundreds of our kin have been pondering on those exact questions for centuries by now, ha! I don't know. Quite frankly, I greatly prefer our form and can't imagine the other one being in any way comfortable,^" Solstice snickered, before stopping herself at the cold dread going through her body.

"What's that 'other form' like?"

"^From what I remember... very physically strong. An exchange of the Moon's blessing for an unrivaled physique, with much the same psychics. I've seen them be quite fearsome when sparring, though no more so than a well-trained Forest Guardian—merely differently.^"

A shiver went down Sue's spine at the mention of a 'well-trained Forest Guardian'. Solstice's abilities were unnerving enough, and she sure didn't feel like she had any combat training. "I—I see. And that final 'evolution' brings with itself yet another name?" she asked.

Solstice took a deep breath. "^Kind of. While the previous names were all temporary ones that would be eventually discarded, this final name doesn't work like that. In my tribe, it is treated as your true name, the only one you were to use or be called from that point on. It wasn't given freely, either—just evolving wasn't enough; one had to earn it, prove oneself as a true member of the tribe.^"

Now that's closer to what I'm used to.

"How does one do that?" Sue asked.

"^In my case, it was through completing my healer training and making my vows to spread Pale Lady's glory through my actions. Once that or... a different way of proving oneself had been accomplished, you had to wait until the next full Moon. Then, your family would go through an entire ritual, in which they both gave you your true name and engraved your sacred bond towards the Pale Lady on your very body.^"

Solstice's pensive gaze resting on her tattooed arm let Sue connect the dots herself. Suppose that finally explained where these came from and what was their purpose, though not without some follow-up questions to be had. Any curiosity about her old names was immediately discarded—considering how much of a deal that 'true' name was for her tribe, it was probably a bad idea to ask about the 'false' ones. "Looks... painful," Sue intelligently observed.

"^On its own, it probably would've been. Thankfully not, it was a very joyous ritual, a celebration of truly becoming a part of the Pale Lady's herd—much singing and dancing was had. You have to drink a sacred concoction before others can apply these markings. It paralyzes your body, dulls all the pain into something almost ticklish, and... lets you commune with the Pale Lady directly.^"

The Mayor's recollection remained unenthusiastic until she got to the very final point. As much as everything else was tainted to her by association, the aforementioned communion wasn't. Sue leaned in closer out of curiosity, hand idly alternating between delivering affection to the pair of little ones on the Forest Guardians' lap. "If it's alright for me to ask... what—what did you see?"

Despite Sue's reservation, the question still stung something fierce, more than what she expected. Before she could worry about having made yet another faux pas, Solstice answered, "^She reassured me about my mission. That me running away and fighting against the heresy that portrayed night kin as monsters was righteous. She gave me her blessing on that task, and I, I—^"

Sue didn't know what to say to make her mentor feel better. She hasn't gotten any better at finding the right words for all this since yesterday, but... she was there for Solstice, and she wanted her to know it. Her embrace was shaky, her own raging emotions making it all so much harder than it would've otherwise been. Despite that, she kept doing what she could to comfort Solstice.

Because what else am I to do?

"I'm so sorry," Sue whispered.

Comet squeaked worriedly, hardly oblivious to his mom's worsening mood either. Before she could try to reassure him, he was already raising his arms up to be picked up again, and his mom wouldn't refuse. "^It's okay,^" Solstice shuddered. "That's my sin to bear. You shouldn't worry about it, Sue.^" Before her pupil could get a word in edgewise, she continued, "^If I remember, you mentioned something a couple of days ago about wondering if it was possible to straighten your hair out. I think relaxing like that could help you, if you can find Patina around.^"

'Getting her hair done' was pretty far down the list of things Sue felt she should be doing... but Solstice had a point—not like she had much ability to actually accomplish most of the other items on that list. Maybe something low-stakes to make her feel better was exactly what she needed right now. That awareness sucked in its own right, but it was probably best for her to just move on. "A-alright. What do they look like?"

"^Patina? Hard to miss her and Celestica. Tall, red, flaming, clad in greenish metal. You'll know them when you see them. They have their workshop over in that direction.^"

The addition of the second name took Sue aback, almost to where she overlooked Solstice's directions. They were vague, but they sure beat nothing. She wanted to ask for clarification about the appearance, but before she could do that, the Mayor had already gotten up. "^Alas, I should get going. I hope your day goes well, Sue.^"

"Y-you too, Solstice."

A sad, tired smile, a strained nod, and off the Mayor went, her son clinging to her for all he could—and so, Sue was left with just the lil' ghost.

All the arrivals and departures around them had left them quite confused, the realization making Sue chuckle. Now that she didn't have to share her attention with anyone else, she lifted their bag to inspect the eyes she saw earlier, and to let them see her some more.

Just a pair of twinkles in the dark, almost like stars in the night sky.

"Hey there. Suppose if names aren't as big of a deal as I thought they were, something temporary for you won't hurt," Sue wondered. Solstice's guidelines provided a starting point, but they were obviously tailored for a very different species and culture.

On the other hand... did that fact even matter? Sure, the blob-like ghost wasn't like Comet, but they both felt very young from the little Sue could piece together. She didn't have to go with the most serious name around, just something that could be uniquely theirs, like...

Like…

Words kept stubbornly not coming, making Sue tap her undamaged leg in annoyance.

It's just a name. It matters so little, and yet so much.

She kept staring into their eyes as a pair of black tendrils wrapped around her hand once more. Haunting as she found that sight not a few hours ago, by now it had turned into something entirely opposite. Reassuring, funny even, her imagination cheering her up with the mental image of a scared blob that keeps clinging to anyone halfway nice and doesn't want to let go—not far from the truth at all.

"Now, what do your twinkly eyes have to say for themselves—"





"Twinkle."

The darkness inside the bag blinked as if startled, before focusing on Sue again. "Yeah... that works," she continued, smiling. "Twinkle. A bit silly, but it fits. What do you think?"

Twinkle predictably didn't respond in any definite way, but... that didn't mean they remained idle. Sue didn't remember them wiggling their body this much before, but could be she'd just overlooked it. In either case, they felt happy too, which gave the once-human all the confidence she needed to stick with her idea.

And now; it was time to figure out how to get going again. Sue didn't mind carrying Twinkle with herself, but really wished she had a bag right about now, or even just a purse—something to let her do it hands-free. Maybe tying their bag around… somewhere could work?



I have an idea.


It was a position that wouldn't have worked at all back in her old body for several anatomical reasons, but one that felt just barely possible in this one. With as much care to avoid looking straight at the brain-melting darkness as she could, Sue untied one knot and lifted the bag to rest on her shoulder blade. Then, she wrapped the opposite corners around her neck and under her arm, respectively, tying the knot over where her breast would've been. Now to just rotate it all around so that they're on her front and not back, aaaaand voila!

One chest-mounted ghostly bag child.

The hole they've been using to observe their surroundings before ended up at too much of an angle to let them make out more than the ground immediately in front of their guardian. Which, combined with the bag's opening pressing against her chest, didn't leave them with much they could do, their anxiety palpably growing by the moment.

"Hey, hey Twinkle, I'm still here. Still here," Sue reassured, gently patting the quaking bundle. Thankfully, the mixture of her touch and occasionally erratic heartbeat reverberating through Twinkle's entire amorphous body was enough to soothe them down, one beat and pet at a time—and then some, if them growing mentally quiet soon after was anything to go by.

Regardless if they'd just calmed down or actually fell asleep, Sue finally felt ready to get going herself.

Twinkle, check.

Aching in her leg, check.

Vaguest idea of where to even go, check.

Let's do this.

How hard could it be to find someone as outlandishly looking as Patina?


As it turned out, 'quite'.

A solid half an hour of searching later, Sue wasn't doing any better with directions than before. She'd checked almost every landmark in Moonview she could think of off the top of her head—the plaza, the playground, the construction site, the vicinity of the farm, even the little bath house she'd cleaned herself in a couple days ago. Nothing, again and again.

On that latter note, I could use a shower again.

...



Later.

With nowhere left to go and one increasingly annoyed leg, Sue eventually had to sit down and reassess the situation. This wasn't working—not a particularly groundbreaking realization, but it needed to be said. She didn't have many other options that weren't asking someone else for help, which meant—which meant it probably was time to indeed ask someone for help, much to her dismay.

Burdening a passerby with being a lost tourist wasn't exactly her dream activity following the chaos of the past couple days. Sue wasn't even sure it beat sitting like this and sulking until the council meeting later today. She wouldn't be able to participate in it, but she sure as well wasn't gonna run and hide in some dark hole while Newmoon's fate was being discussed. Even if she wouldn't affect anything, she wanted to be present.

She needed to be present, to make up for all the times when she was too scared to be present in the past.

Attempting to distract herself from falling into yet another dark pit in her memories, Sue refocused on her immediate surroundings. The bench she sat on might not have been the most comfortable place in the world, but being located off to the side of a moderately sized intersection gave her a decent view of Moonview's everyday goings-on. She either didn't know or only barely recalled most of the faces around her, much to her annoyance.

At least nobody is staring at me anymore.

The realization helped, but only just. Sue would need a distraction soon unless she wanted to be left with just her thoughts again, and after the turmoil of this morning, she'd rather not. One suicidal tangent was plenty for a long, long time. Now, just to find… there they were. Sue didn't even know what that particular builder was named, but frankly, she didn't care. Their appearance was familiar, if barely, and that's all that mattered.

She sure didn't expect to ever think of the presence of a gray, hulking, bipedal rhino to be in any way reassuring. In the end, it was just yet another way in which this world was keen to keep surprising her—Duck's sake.

The once-human wasn't even sure whether her mind subconsciously erased the walking bouquet and the white-navy cat from her vision, or if she'd just overlooked them, but either way, the awareness of their presence beside the builder wasn't doing her any favors. At least it seemed to be one sided for the time being.

The two had been eating something together on a bench when the rhino approached the flower medic, Orchid's response one of apparent confusion. They exchanged words for a while, neither exactly growing enthusiastic throughout. Whatever the rhino had said, it had mostly brought on unease that then spread back to them. Sue watched Orchid extend one vine from the chaotic mess of flowers around her head and almost go through with using it to pat the rhino on the back, before ultimately choosing against it.

Shot down again, huh?

Even if that was the case, Sue wasn't really in the mood for schadenfreude. She knew nothing about that specific builder, but after witnessing their team's friendliness towards Ginger, she was more than willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

She had almost shied away from that unfortunate result in the search for someone else to focus on before realizing that despite that mishap, the two were still talking. The topic had changed, though, to something the rhino was much more steadfast about, and something that Orchid was much more overtly uncomfortable with—but only her. Northeast resumed her routine of flat, meowed-out questions, forcing the flower medic to engage with the subject further.

Regardless of what the discussion was about, it seemed that the builder ultimately came on top. Their confidence didn't waver even as Orchid's body language went from 'I'm really not sure' to 'I guess you're right'. The cat continued with her intermittent questions before pausing for a longer while and thinking things through.

Mission accomplished, rhino-man.

Right as Sue thought about looking away at someone else, Northeast asked another question to the builder. They answered with an immediate nod, underlined with being eager to help however they could.

The cat's second question, in turn, made everyone gathered look straight at Sue.

FUCK.

Their abrupt shift triggered Sue's fight-or-flight response immediately, though her brain was keen to stay stuck on 'freeze'—much to the displeasure of the rest of her.

Before she could even see what that massive builder was going to do now that they had her in their sights, Sue heard a loud call aimed squarely at her. This time, it was from much closer up, and combined with the startle immediately before, almost made her heart drop there and then. On the flip side, it also provided some actual answers, ones she'd even managed to process before her brain could whip her into running for the hills.

The smaller, blue bipedal rhino sat in a very similar category in Sue's mind to the gray one. Familiar in appearance, likely somehow related to the builders. Zero knowledge about anything beyond these couple of facts, making it rather difficult to piece the 'why' just from them standing there. Add to that their earlier cheer at finally finding her, their present concern for her, and the being that stood beside them, and it all suddenly made so much more sense.

Despite having seen that particular villager before, Sue hadn't made the connection between them and the name 'Patina' until now. They were bipedal, roughly her size, with an almost entirely red body covered by variously shaped plates of greenish gray metal. An honest-to-Duck flame ponytail sprouted from the back of their head, contrasting their expressionless face and palpably relieved mind behind it.

A minor jolt in Sue's brain, overlooked in all the chaos.

Wait, are they looking for me—

"There ya are!" the blue rhino roared. "Gah darn it, woulda thought findin' a Guardian woulda been so hard, ha!" The boisterous and slightly aged voice immediately derailed Sue's train of thought as she focused on the builder, too taken aback to respond right away. "Moon got ya tongue, Sue? Ha! AH—I see, I see, 'aven't introduced meself yet! Name's Daisy!"

Despite sounding like she was three days away from retirement and three more from the grave, the bespoke Daisy spared no vigor in walking up to Sue's bench and reeling back her paw for a high-five. The once-human wasn't faring any better in processing just what was happening, but before she could consciously act, her well-honed subconscious reflex of responding to high-fives in kind got the initiative.

*CLAP!*

OW THAT HURT.


"Ayyy, ya even know tha proper greetin', hun!"

As Sue reeled from the most forceful high-five of her life, Patina slowly caught up with them, only barely keeping her quiet laughter contained. Sue used the brief lull in conversation to grip her aching hand as forcefully as she could as she checked whether the other rhino was still approaching.

Both the rhino and Orchid were giggling while the former headed out back in the direction they came from.

"^Sure seems our arrival came as a shock, eh Sue?^" Patina asked. Her voice was the most clearly telepathic one Sue had heard during her stay here yet.

Whereas Solstice's and Sundance's were subtle enough to where she wouldn't have been able to tell without either watching their lips or paying close attention to the sounds, Patina's was unnaturally buzzy and slightly harsh, almost as if transmitted over radio—still ten times more understandable than anything Sue could mumble out, though. "I—yeah, that's true..."

"^Ahahaha. Solstice ran into me and mentioned that you were looking for me, so I started looking too.^"

Once Sue had gotten over the overall sound of Patina's voice, she paid closer attention to it. Feminine, middle-aged, somewhere around Sundance's age, if she had to guess. Slightly fiery, as if spoken on top of a crackle of a modest campfire.

"And I helped after they two kept stumblin' blindly!" the rhino lady added, smiling and gesturing.

"^I assure you, we weren't 'stumbling blindly'.^"

The third voice caught Sue entirely off guard, sounding unlike either Patina's or Daisy's. Imposing, metallic, and positively ancient even without having the same kind of dry croaking to it that Daisy or Willow had. She had absolutely no idea where it had come from, but that didn't seem to be an obstacle to the blue rhino. "Ya ya ya, sure sure sure~."

Brushing aside the confusion surrounding the third voice, Sue focused on what the first two were saying. The realization that two people had to take time out of her day just to help her look brought on another wave of embarrassment. "S-sorry for taking your time—"

Daisy rebuked, "Naaah, nothin' ta worry 'bout, Sue! Glad ah could help ya out!" Her words were delivered with all the earnesty it was physically possible for a voice to contain, and followed up on with a roaring chuckle.

"^Daisy's right, it's really not a problem,^" Patina reassured, walking closer and examining Sue's crutch. "^Besides, this will be a more interesting thing to tackle than anything else I could be doing, haha.^"

"See?!" the rhino slapped her knee. "Anywho, time for the ol' me to go! Take care and I hope ya feel better soon, Sue!"

"Th-thank you, Daisy..." Sue mumbled, still overwhelmed.

"Anytime, hun."

With Daisy taking her leave to the sound of mighty laughter, Sue focused on Patina as she prepared to get up. Right as she was about to go for it, a pair of voices spoke to her—

"^Can you walk on your own, Sue?^" / "^Do you require our assistance?^"

As Sue sat stunned, the voice she was confident was Patina's burst into giggling at the untimely overlap. Before either the fire woman or the voice beside her could ask again, the Forest Guardian's autopilot finally pushed her onto her legs, answering both their questions.

"^Good stuff. Follow us, Sue,^" Patina gestured, "^let's get you to the workshop, eh?^"

Don't know what a workshop has to do with doing people's hair, but who am I to argue?

Despite Sue's attempts to just quietly follow Patina and... someone, her curiosity wouldn't stay quiet forever. There was the worry she'd be asking something private, much like she almost did with Solstice earlier. Though, with that other voice being willing to speak up, the logical part of her brain managed to push through the tropical storm of anxiety and doubt for long enough to grow confident that asking about it was probably fine. Probably. "U-ummm—"

"^Confused about the ol' bell, ah?^" Patina chuckled.

"What—"

"^Me,^" the other voice answered. It wasn't the kind of clarification Sue was expecting, but she acknowledged it all the same, nodding eagerly. "^I am Celestica.^"

"^They're my... suppose you could say they're my parent. Raised me up many years ago, and now we're tied like this,^" Patina explained.

Having an actual name for the metallic voice was appreciated, but it didn't make it any clearer where it was coming from. As well as Sue had tried to hide it, her confusion about the subject was downright palpable. Eventually Patina made her flinch by turning around for a moment—and patting the thick metal plates covering her front and arms. "^That's them.^"

"^What remains of me,^" Celestica clarified.

"^Indeed.^"

The visual demonstration made the explanation finally click in a slightly disturbing way. All the plates on Patina's torso and arms were clearly a part of a singular whole, the engravings and even the corrosion matched. Sue sure didn't expect that 'whole' to have apparently been a person, much less a person who was, somehow, still alive. "I-I have questions."

"^Hardly the first, hardly the last, ha! Feel free, we don't mind.^"

Sue wasn't sure what to ask about first, or even how to word it. It all felt bizarre, and she couldn't think of any comparison for all this back from her home world. Actually... maybe something like one of those baby carriers or slings she saw a few fresh moms use? Just a hands-free way of carrying a kid around, but with... her parent, apparently. Just like—

Just like what I'm doing at this very moment.

Patina must've overheard her thought process—or at least enough of it to burst into fiery laughter at the realization. An unintentional release of tension is still a release of tension, Sue supposed. "Alright. Is your parent... in pieces?"

"^Correct.^"

"Isn't that painful?"

"^Not anymore.^"

That didn't inspire even a shred of confidence inside Sue. "That sounds rough..."

"^Well, it was either that or them dying; we're both glad for this outcome,^" Patina clarified.

Oh. "I'm sorry to hear. Was it a... sickness—"

"^A coordinated assassination attempt.^"

Ducking Duck.

"^Lemme give the background,^" Patina chimed in. "^So, we both hail from quite a ways away, from what people in Moonview call 'the divine mountain'.^"

"^Triune's Throne.^"

"^Yep, that's Her true name. Plenty of shrines close to Her peak, and Celestica served in one of them with others of their kin. And then I showed up!^" the flame-woman chuckled, unbothered by the graveness of her parent's state.

Celestica painted the picture, "^Lost, alone, hatched from a stray egg of unknown origin.^"

"^You mentioned that... how'd you describe it, 'dimensions get weird' so close to Throne's peak?^"

"^Spacetime frays,^" Celestica explained, their voice as heavy as always. "^Glimpses of distant lands and uncountable futures.^"

"^And apparently one of said Glimpses resulted in my egg making my way through.^"

"That's hard to imagine..." Sue put it lightly.

"^Throne's peak strains mortal senses. Our watch was to protect it and others from it in equal measure,^" Celestica continued.

"^Their fellow guardians... weren't happy about me being around for that reason, ha!^"

"^To dash an innocent life is to strike the Moon's Grace Herself.^"

The mention of Moonview's signature deity in a place so far away from it caught Sue's attention. "Is She worshiped over there?"

"^Among other deities,^" Celestica answered.

"^Her shrine there is so much larger than Moonview's, ha! Much uglier too, though,^" Patina chuckled.

"^My kin aren't artists.^"

"^Excuses! Anywho, Celestica took me in after I hatched and made sure I could handle the craziness of the near-peak. Eventually... their fellow guardians tried to take their life.^"

In literally any other circumstances, asking whether someone she was talking to in that very moment had survived a tragic event would've been at best crass, and at worst outright fucked up. And yet, considering Celestica's current state, Sue couldn't come up with any better question. "H-how'd it go?"

"^Well...^" Patina trailed off, some of her earlier carelessness finally replaced with seriousness. "^Celestica died, or at least that's what I thought.^"

"^There was a lapse in my consciousness.^"

"^I thought they would all come for me next, so I tried hiding inside what remained of them, and... evolved afterwards. No idea why—I've never met another of my kin and I doubt I ever will, but it happened exactly as I'm telling it,^" Patina insisted to an audience of one once-human who knew almost nothing about evolution in the first place.

"^Following that, I was conscious again.^"

"^We scorched a couple of them, ran off, and many, many years later... here we are.^"

Despite how horrible much of what Patina had just described was, her mood remained mostly upbeat through it all, taking Sue aback. Guess she really was used to explaining all that, for better or worse. "Well, I'm glad you two are doing better now..."

"^Thank you, ha! Yeah, I'd say we're managing,^" Patina smiled.

"^This existence is preferable to my previous one, overall,^" Celestica reassured.

"^See? Anywho, here's the workshop, come in!^"

The building dwarfed most others in Moonview. It was right at the village's edge, on the opposite side of the farm. The inside was split almost perfectly in half between two vastly different purposes. On one end, a mess of kilns, a small pile of charcoal, and a much larger pile of what just looked like rocks piled up almost to the ceiling in the corner. On the other, shelves of assorted wooden bottles, a few barebones metal tools, and a contraption of a chair in front of a large bowl of water. "^Bit messy, don't know when I'll have the time to clear it,^" Patina sighed. "^Lemme get it ready for you.^"

As uncertain as Sue was about touching, or worse yet, sitting on anything in this most definitely not OSHA compliant building, watching Patina adjust the chair so that it had a hole in its back for her horn made the once-human change her mind instantly. "^Take a seat, ha! I've been trying a few sorts of hair straightening solutions in the past, but never on Forest Guardian hair. This'll be fun...^"

Sue hoped that said 'fun' would remain of the non-corrosive, non-explosive variety as she sat down. And then, that anxious hope disappeared from her mind—together with everything else—the moment she rested her back and relaxed her shoulders.

Bliss.

Patina only acknowledged Sue's reaction with a smirk as the Forest Guardian struggled to think. It seemed it'd be a while until the fire woman had everything ready, and until then, there were quite a few parts of this place's... decor that begged to be explained. "If it's alright, what are those rocks in the corner?" Sue asked, her voice dreamy.

"^Ore. Copper, iron, a bit of zinc too, all from our quarry,^" Patina explained. ^"Some of it's quite old, likely corroded to hell. Been trying to figure out Aurelia's technique for it, but no luck so far!^"

An unfamiliar name perked Sue's attention up. "Aurelia?"

"^That used to be her smithy. I was giddy to become her apprentice, but we didn't get through much before... yeah. She'd scold me to Triune's Throne and back for letting it fall to such disrepair. I—I'll figure it out sometime, too many ideas for acids and solutions, not enough time to just sort all this mess out and move everything where it belongs.^"

As peppy as Patina remained earlier, this turned out to be a much more sore topic for her than that of her parent's near-death. Sue didn't want to judge, hoping it was just a matter of the passage of time having dulled old wounds. Odd or not, her explanation didn't clarify just who the person in question was. "I'm sorry to hear. Her name doesn't really ring a bell, though."

"^Figures! Going off what we saw ya doing back at the feast a few days ago, one description in particular ought to clean it up—^" Patina began, the spring having returned to her voice as if nothing was amiss.

Only to then send a chill through Sue's very core with what she said next.

"^Aurelia… was Pollux's mother.^"



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 24: Damnation



"^Aurelia… was Pollux's mother.^"

The words echoed in Sue's mind, the implications hitting her one after another. This entire building once belonged to Pollux's family before they were banished, leaving her feeling uneasy sitting here. Even more shocking, though, was Patina's mention of Pollux, and in such a casual tone at that—the night kin fox was hiding from Moonview for a reason, after all. "P-Pollux's?" Sue asked, stunned.

"^Yep! You know him, right?^" Patina chuckled. "^Swear I saw you hanging out with him back at the feast a few days ago, eh?^"

Sue had gone from confused to downright shocked in a span of moments, and she wasn't even sure which part of Patina's response did her in. Her having apparently seen through Pollux's disguise? Her not having raised any alarms after seeing him with her all those days ago? His presence so close to Moonview being treated so lightly, as if he were just another villager?

The latter would absolutely be preferable one day, but they all knew it wasn't so yet.

Regardless of which of these implications had stunned Sue more, she was left sitting on Patina's contraption of a seat mute and motionless. Her shock was palpable to the other two as they gathered ingredients from all over the workshop, Patina's upbeat, crackling giggles mixing in with Celestica's slow, almost entirely flat string of 'ha's. "^What's so surprisin'? I'm sure ya know him,^" the fire woman teased.

"I-I do, but... how do you know about him? Or even see him?^"

"^Oh Sue, that fox's good at his disguisin', but that sure ain't true about him focusing for more than five minutes, ha! Hard not to notice once he stops masking himself on accident, and that sorta stuff happens all the time. Even happened at that feast with you all, I think? I reckon I wasn't supposed to see your little campfire, pfft.^"

That made way too much sense for Pollux. "I see. But in that case, don't others notice him too?"

"^Occasionally,^" Celestica chimed in.

"^Yep. Nobody's really surprised to see him in here, not anymore. No point in raisin' a fuss about it, especially since all he ever does is hang out with Spark or other kiddos, anyway,^" Patina remarked. "^Or sometimes be a lil' scamp with Solstice and Root, pfft.^"

Sue acknowledged the response with an idle nod while her mind tried to fit that revelation in. Considering all the tension, considering Root's actions, she certainly didn't expect Pollux's presence here to be such a non-issue for most. At the same time, said priest was far and away the most militant person against night kin's presence here, so it only made sense for everyone else to be more laid back in that regard.

It was still messed up though, especially with people of Moonview merely looking the other way as opposed to wholeheartedly accepting Pollux. And with the recent events, Sue doubted that even that half-solution would remain in place for much longer. "Suppose that makes sense, but... I worry it might change for the worse with what happened to D- Night Mother's altar."

"^D... what?^" Patina perked up, uncertain.

"N-nevermind."

Celestica honed in on a different part of Sue's admission, though. "^With regards to the events you mentioned. Were you present when they took place, and if so, are you capable of clarifying certain contradictions we have overheard?^"

"^Oh yeah, with the way some people have been telling it, you'd think Ginger hit that ugly thing with a roundhouse kick from half a Moonview away,^" Patina chuckled.

Hardly something Sue wanted to elaborate upon, especially after spending so much time getting people up to speed with Sundance's situation earlier. Then again, considering that the fire woman had already clarified one part of Moonview's common opinion for her, Sue wouldn't be opposed in the slightest to learning more.

Even if it took retreading the same, traumatizing memories again. "I was there when it happened," Sue began, once more scratching along that mental wound. "Ginger was trying to feel along the backside of that wall, and it immediately lost its balance; he tried to stabilize it and all, but it just... fell. Kantaro got there soon after; Ginger tried to talk to him, but he just didn't want to repair it; I don't know why. Well, I can guess it's because it had been made from something he initially made for Night Father... right?"

"^Yep, heh. And that's all... surprisin', frankly,^" Patina admitted, taken aback.

I sure didn't expect the physical embodiment of protection against the night kin to fall to a couple of prods either, but I doubt that's what she's referring to.

"What is?" Sue asked.

"^The drama about the monument in particular. What happened to Sundance I can at least understand, but this? Hell nah, everyone's frettin' about something almost nobody liked to begin with,^" the fire woman sighed as she hovered the last of the small jars to a nearby bench. Sue's confounded stare conveyed her question wordlessly, making Patina clarify, "^Them side monuments, I mean. I remember when that happened, back when everyone was still recoverin' from that bloody plague, and Root kept doubling down on that dumb idea of his. Even back then, almost nobody wanted Night Father's shrine taken down, especially in such a crass way. Root, Willow, High Tide maybe, and a handful of others were the only vocal supporters. Though I guess, with time, more and more came on board just so that they wouldn't have to see the constant reminder of what they'd done.^"

Sue shuddered at the mention of Willow, and Patina wasn't far behind, the motion particularly visible in her flaming ponytail. She went quiet afterwards as she filled up a small ceramic dish with tiny bunches of several powders, most of them stinging Sue's eyes or throat from a good few feet away.

Something tells me I really should be wearing a rebreather here.

"^To think such a sublime shrine was defiled in pursuit of heresy... it hurts even me.^" Celestica did the closest equivalent to sighing they were capable of.

"^No kiddin', eh?^" Patina slowly shook her head. "^Sure ain't surprised Root pushed it that hard; you'd think with the way he talks that the entire pantheon consists of just the Pale Lady, but others... disappointin'.^"

Sue didn't disagree with that at all, but one word in particular caught her attention and wouldn't let go. One she wasn't entirely certain how to interpret, but which she really wanted to know how it was meant. "If… if it's alright—what did you mean by 'heresy' there, Celestica?" she asked.

As Patina kept playing the role of equal parts chemist and medieval alchemist who would be dead at age 45 of mercury poisoning, Sue watched the patterns on what remained of Celestica's body glow up in her direction. The small, reddish part down on Patina's side turned to face her, as if it was—as if it was their eye. "^These traits that Root had enriched the Pale Lady's shrine with are not Hers. They are of the Dark Lord, His domain and duty. To wrestle such traits from a deity to favor another is high heresy. My people were wretched, but their response would have been entirely appropriate for such a crime.^"

"...exile?" Sue guessed—

And felt her heart stop at the answer that followed. "^Death.^"

Oh, fuck.

"^C'mon Celly, you're scaring her,^" Patina chided.

"^My intent isn't such. It is not a punishment of a simple worshiper, it is a punishment of a high priest, such as one Root portrays himself as.^"

Sue supposed the clarification made it slightly better, but still... sheesh. Death penalty for a religious disagreement wasn't the sort of punishment she'd ever want to see established, no matter how much Root deserved it.



Okay, maybe just a little, if they'd be just for Root. "I... guess. Still, it's uncomfortable to think about."

"^You ain't alone in that regard Sue, doncha worry, ha.^"

Sue sighed—that did help a bit, yes. "I heard that they're gonna hold a council meeting today to discuss what's gonna happen to the night kin. Do you think everyone might start cracking down on Pollux harder if it goes poorly?"

Patina let out a low hum in response, a quiet hiss of something being seared mixing into the sound. "^I wish I could answer that with certainty, but I doubt it will, y'know. Like, hell, Pollux is still Pollux no matter what anyone else may or mightn't have done. I sure don't think any sort of harsher sentence means folk will start hurting him. Then again, I sure thought that exiling the night kin was a demented idea that would never happen in a thousand years either, eh...^" her voice trailed off as if scolded.

That was the opposite of reassuring.

Patina was right; Moonview had already extremely overreacted out of paranoia once. What certainty did they have that the exact same tragedy wouldn't repeat? Was anything truly different now compared to all those years ago? If anything, it all felt even more hopeless this time—Sundance was comatose; Solstice was tearing herself apart with guilt; she couldn't even trust Willow, and aside from them all, she didn't even know of any Elders around, and especially not the sort that would—

*HHHIIISSSSSSSSssssssss*

The nigh-deafening sound from so close almost made Sue bang her back horn all over the contraption of a seat. Thankfully, her mind had settled on 'freeze' rather than 'flight', and once it was done choking itself away from all thought, she could actually investigate what had happened.

Unpleasant-looking foam was spilling out of a small bowl Patina was preparing her concoction in, and into a larger bowl the smaller one was hurriedly placed in. Sue spotted the fire woman audibly sighing in relief at averting staining anything else, but that seemed to be the full extent of her immediate safety concerns.

I wish I knew enough chemistry to know just how terrified I should be right now.

"^Pheeeew! Just in time. Actually, now that I think about it... it should just take someone standing up to Root and persevering,^" Patina finished her thought.

Her delayed follow-up had Sue's undivided attention, eyes narrowing as she tried to slink ever so slightly away from the fire woman's freshly made hopefully-not-chemical-weapon. "Standing up to him, like...?"

"^Y'know, just opposing him and not backing down. I've seen how that old fart argues,^" Patina scoffed, "^he's never met a person he hasn't tried to pressure, shout down, or guilt trip. If someone can withstand that and push through, argue against him, then I doubt things will get any worse, ha.^"

Patina's description made Sue realize how many other 'Root's she has had to deal with in her past life, shuddering at recalling even a single interaction like that. "...I think I get it, yeah. Hopefully, it'll work out, then."

"^I'd say very likely it will! Aight, that's the mix I had in mind done. Should relax your hair and straighten it a fair bit—I sure hope so at least, hah!^" Patina chuckled as she poured some of the smaller bowl's contents into another container, diluting it with a hefty dose of water afterwards.

"Will it hurt?" Sue asked, partly because of curiosity and partly of worry.

"^Shouldn't be too bad. Like any chloride, it's gonna sting bare skin a decent bit, might lightly stain them curls, but a similar mix has worked well in the past for a couple other peeps at least!^"

Guess there was only one way to find out what 'decent bit' meant here, wasn't there. "Alright, then..."

"^Now just your... kid on your chest?^"

An eerie, unnerving impulse went through Sue at Twinkle being referred to in such a way. It was as if half her mind screamed in pain, and the other half in elation at hearing it, the combination just leaving her stunned for a hot minute.

"^...Sue?^" Patina asked, noticing Sue's stunned uncertainty.

Her words made the Forest Guardian finally snap out of it, hands subconsciously reaching for the bundle of ghost against her chest as she mumbled, "Uh, sorry. Should I move them?"

"^Oh up to you, I'd just assumed you forgot to do it earlier,^" Patina explained.

Considering what amounted to the lil' ghost's body was well protected with the rag they were sleeping in, there probably wasn't a need to disturb them. "They can stay here."

"^Suit yourselves!^"

Patina's hands felt just barely cold enough to not scald her skin as they guided Sue to lean fully into her seat, with a single adjustment letting her lean her head all the way back as well. Her and Solstice's touch might've been pleasantly tingly, but the fire woman's hands were almost an instant massage, making for a comfort even Spark had a hard time stacking up to.

Which was appreciated, considering how much her brew had made Sue wince afterwards.

It wasn't quite unbearable, but it sure got very, very close at times, especially when Patina tried to apply it to her roots. It was too late to back out now, which meant another conversation topic was in order—and there just so happened to be an overlooked subject that Sue really wanted to know more about, both for future reference and out of simple curiosity. And—*ow*—distraction. "How was A-Aurelia like? Pollux's mother you've mentioned earlier..."

"^Driven,^" Celestica answered, the little there was of their tone full of admiration.

"^Hatched with a hammer in her hand, I tell ya!^" Patina laughed. "^She got metallurgy like nobody I've ever seen, and kept on improving her craft every single day. Goodness, what she didn't do—metalworking, used to act battles out in Snowdrop's fancy group, used to do actual fights on the side! Practice ones, I mean, the kinds that hurt, but leave ya stronger. Never had too many takers, but always one or two—Daisy, High Tide, Alastor. Good gods, do I remember watching her fool around with Alastor. She'd keep letting him feel like he had the upper hand by hiding around, and then just punched him from thin air before any of us could even blink. And he'd keep on trying the same tactics over and over, almost like he wanted to be dominated, ahahaha!^"

Sue palpably felt Patina's mood improve throughout her recollection, her ambient heat turning that much stronger and more pleasant. Didn't help a whole lot with the stinging all over her head, but at that point, Sue knew she'd just have to suffer through it. "She must've been strong."

"^In so many ways, ha. She could've lifted this entire dainty hut up with one arm and got so good at bending metal that she didn't even have to use tools past a certain point, just her four limbs. And her fire, goodness, it was so bright it kept burning out of her entire head, day and night. I keep on tryin', and I sure ain't gonna stop, but a part of me doubts I'll ever compare. I'm still dreaming of figuring out smelting iron with even half the skill and heat she handled it.^"

Considering all the heat and fire references, Sue had at least a partial idea about Aurelia's 'types'. "Sounds like a Fire 'type'... right?" she asked for clarification.

"^And Fighting, ahaha! That part's also important, especially for crushin' all the ore before smelting it. From what she told me, tinkering with metal is rather common where she came from, though with nowhere near her sophistication, and mostly with gold. Trivial to work compared to even copper, and even children decorated themselves with gold leaf from time to time. Though hers were extra fancy—I remember seeing her for the first time and the sun glare from all the gold on her just blinding me for a hot while, oh those days were fun, ahahahah...^" Patina trailed off into quieter and quieter laughter, lost in her recollection.

In the meantime, Sue picked up on another curiosity from her words—'Fighting' type? The label didn't inspire confidence in the slightest. If anything, it made Sue think back to the many varieties of local chavs starting shit at the town she grew up in.

Who knew that such a mediocre football team could ever inspire such widespread violence, eh?

"It sounds like she was fun to be around," Sue remarked.

"^Worked hard, fought hard, played hard!^"

"^Drank hard,^" Celestica added pointedly.

"^Don't act like you'd be any different if you still had a mouth, Celly,^" Patina chuckled.

"^I do not know what inebriation feels like.^"

"^Call that the Pale Lady's blessing or something.^"

As pleasant as it was to hear Patina's recollections—the unnerving 'Fighting' type detail aside—the constant mentions of Aurelia having been a metal worker had Sue thinking back over to the couple of metal objects she'd seen around. And among them, one immediately caught her attention the most. "Did she make—"

"^Hon,^" Patina pre-emptively cut her off, "^if there's anything metal you see in Moonview, Aurelia almost certainly was the one that made it.^"

"R-right. I guess that includes Daystar's prosthesis... thing."

"^Dayst... you mean Frostbite?^" the fire woman asked.

"She goes by Daystar now," Sue stressed, remembering her reaction to being referred by the other name back in Newmoon.

As Patina took a moment or three to stash the new knowledge deep into her fiery brain, Celestica summed it up shortly. "^I am unsurprised.^"

"^No kiddin', ahaha! Good for her, hope she's alright. And yep, Aurelia made her that hook. No replacing all the usefulness or lethality of her natural claws with anythin' artificial, but at least being able to hold on to stuff with both arms is useful.^"

Sue was almost certain about the answer to the question she was about to ask, but went with it anyway, even if just to hear how Patina would explain it. "Did she just... make all that for Daystar on a whim?"

"^Yeah, why wouldn't she? Psychic tricks are one thing, but for a Fighting type to not be able to use all their limbs is a tragedy and a half.^"

...

Considering Daystar of all people was also in the said 'Fighting' category, it probably represented much more than just an overeagerness to fight. "I-I see," Sue mumbled. "Daystar must've loved it."

"^Ohhhh, you have no idea, hun. Then again, she never was too sad about having lost her paw in the first place, really. Apparently, it snapped her to the reality of what she was doing, and made her set out on the path that led her here. Sure never heard anyone else be simultaneously so thankful and hateful to anyone as she was to that one psychic bird that did her in,^" Patina sighed, some of her exhale further warming Sue's stinging head. "^If I hadn't already started being Aurelia's apprentice, then seeing that sure would've made me, ha!^"

"What—what initially interested you, then?"

"^Hmm...^" the fire woman tapped her fingers against Sue's lathered head, "^think it was another of Aurelia's gifts, actually. She told me she just got the idea one moment, and the second she was already forging copper with her bare hands! Ended up being a pretty pretty circlet, methinks.^"

Circlet. "Wh-who did she make it for?" Sue asked.

"^Solstice, ha! They used to be besties, way back in the day. And now... ah... yeah.^"

Figures why she handed it back to Alastor then...

"^Aaaaanywho. How're ya holdin' up?^" Patina asked, wanting to clear out the air.

"M-managing," Sue answered through gritted teeth.

"^Tell me if I need to slow down or any—^"

Sue winced again. "If you can, I'd rather you speed up."

"^I see, I see~. Lean back in, and let's get it done then, ahaha! Fingers crossed it works out!^"

It didn't work out.

Thankfully, a thorough washing after Patina was done got rid of most of the stinging, and what little remained eventually faded afterwards. Pain wasn't even the annoying part, though—nowhere near as the realization, after all was said and done, that the chemical assault on her scalp accomplished almost nothing for straightening these green locks out, instead just leaving some spots slightly bleached. Not that Sue minded that in a vacuum, but that outcome sure didn't feel pleasant after several hours of gripping the armrests as tight as she could, even with Patina being as accommodating as she could be.

At least I didn't break another leg.

Yay.


Disappointment or not, all that was behind her now. By the time she and Twinkle had stumbled out of once-Aurelia's workshop, the sun was already almost done setting, emboldening her further. There weren't anywhere near as many people drinking around the large clearing as when she was there a few days ago. Entirely understandable between yesterday's events and what still awaited today, but it still made that entire half of Moonview feel... eerie.

Not eerie enough for her to go through the rest of the day on an almost empty stomach again, though.

With Poppy's pastry in her hand, Twinkle on her chest, and plenty of the village still in front of her, Sue could start chewing through everything Patina had told her and which she'd already inferred about Root broadly and the upcoming hearing in specific.

Many of Moonview's worst mistakes weren't even all that popular amongst its people when they happened. Vote to exile the night kin passed with a single vote; the decision to turn Night Father's shrine into the extensions of Duck's monument was even more unpopular. Surely, after all these years and with so much shame fueling them, the people would avoid making the same harrowing mistake again. Avoid sentencing so many to so much suffering because of actions that were committed by so few, or which didn't really matter whatsoever.

At least, that's what Sue deeply hoped for.

If what Patina said was right—if it would really only take a single voice to take a stand against Root and his narrative and not let itself get shouted down—then things would almost certainly work out. After all, someone would have enough of a spine to stand up and prevent further harm, and from there, it was just... expressing support for that person.

Admittedly, Sue had absolutely no idea how such a council even functioned, but hoped it wouldn't be entirely filled with the badger's sycophants if it truly fell down to just them to make the decisions that affected both villages. She knew better than to let herself get overly hopeful while having so little concrete to work with, but figured that a little bit of hope wouldn't hurt.

As a treat.

As basic as the feat was, she was somewhat proud of herself for having figured out a way to the gathering entirely on her own. Granted, all she had to do on her part was to just observe the passersby and follow the majority's direction, but it was still more than the absolute nothing her self-critical thoughts wanted to portray it as.

While she marched over, alternating her limited brain capacity between walking upright with a limping leg and breathing deeply enough, another realization gradually crept in. This one she had very little idea what to do with, and neither the time, space, nor opportunity to mull it through—Twinkle had woken up at some point.

Good evening, little one! This is Moonview line, heading straight... north toward our final station. Will it be Salvation Alley? Will it be Damnation Street? Who knows, that's the fun of it!

That's the bloody fun of it.


Even though Sue didn't have any words for the little bag full of child, that didn't mean that she had no affection. She gently grasped the small bundle with her left hand as she turned the last corner, feeling Twinkle wrap their tentacles around it as she looked for a place to sit down amidst the crowd. This skin dress made that feat much more annoyingly difficult than she would've preferred.

The entire arrangement reminded her of the world's smallest concert stadium. A short, flat mound, only a dozen or so feet in diameter. In front of it was a clearing so underutilized that much of it was still covered in grass. Above it all, the customary floating fireballs, the sight having become little more than a modest footnote by now. Magical, floating, unending balls of fire? Boring, that was so three days ago.

Thankfully, Solstice was already present, her aura even more anxious than Sue's. It took the older Forest Guardian a while to even notice her pupil's arrival, despite her having towered over most of the crowd while finding a place to sit down. Beyond that delay, her immediate reaction was a shudder and an alarmed look, taking the once-human aback. "^Sue? What are you doing here?^" Solstice asked with a raised voice.

"Just w-watching," Sue answered. "Am I not allowed to?" She tried her hardest to keep her tone neutral enough to avoid her genuine question becoming a snarky reply, even though a small part of her really wished to say these exact words in that way.

All the Mayor could do was sigh, shudder, and try her best to forcibly relax her posture again as she answered, "^Of course you are, it's—nevermind.^" It certainly wasn't the response Sue wanted to hear, its nervous hesitation making her second guess her own presence here—it was ultimately more morbid curiosity than it was actually being able to help with anything, after all. "^I'll translate for you,^" Solstice sighed, "^but I ask you to not chat throughout. I-I need to focus on this.^"

As if I needed to feel even worse about being here.

"Of course."

Despite that bitter topic, Sue wasn't thinking of going anywhere, not now. More and more onlookers kept pouring on from all over Moonview while the raised stage filled up. The living bouquet medic, Orchid. The blue, bipedal rhino that worked with the builders, Daisy. Floating cotton puffball with an attached face that seemed to manage the farms, Equinox. The leafy mantis caretaker, Splitleaf.

So many others she'd either only seen in passing, or not at all.

Willow.

Considering everything she'd seen and heard about the medic over the past couple of days, Sue wasn't even sure if she trusted them at all. The thought stung particularly hard given they were the very first person here who'd visibly offered her care when she still had no idea what was going on or where she even was. Was all that just a lie? A facade they had put up to hide their true intentions?

The thought made little sense, and Sue was well aware. They weren't just nice to her, but to everyone she'd ever seen them interact with. She still remembered them barging in with injured Joy very clearly, and if not for that very act, the metal girl might've still been constantly afraid today.

And yet.

The looks they gave her and Ginger when the latter swung by Moonview. Looks of uncertainty, of fear, of everything she would've expected from someone much more simple-minded than them, not from someone who helped two separate weirdlings in the past few days alone.

Sue kept staring at the medic as she went through the unpleasant thoughts—and eventually, they looked back. A burst of upbeat surprise at seeing her here, accentuated with a timid wave in her direction. A smile that faltered with every passing moment at seeing someone they'd helped so recently staring back at them with earned distrust. And finally, a nervous, unsettled look away, at anyone but her.

Were they aware of why she distrusted them? Aware of her knowing what they did in the past, of the horrible causes they had allied themselves with, and judging them for it?

Does it even matter?

*woof!*


"Hey, Sparkie," Sue sighed. She had barely noticed the lil' vixen's blissful heat even as she had climbed onto her lap. Everything felt numb and tense, as if she'd hit a nerve with her entire brain. With how much laid on the line, comfort was hard to focus on—and yet, so much more important exactly because of that.

The Forest Guardian's right hand shook as she forcibly moved it to stroke Spark's back. The other one didn't fare any better, having to be constantly reminded to provide affection to Twinkle, else the sharp, haphazard motions would peter out after just a few moments. Sue wasn't good at multitasking like this, not when this tense.

Hopefully, her rocking in place wouldn't draw too much undue attention.

A small glare of purple light in the corner of her vision heralded the arrival of the final remaining elder. Their expression was cross and just as tense as Sue's; the spots around their neck burned with faint violet embers.

Root.

"^Greetings, everyone,^" Solstice spoke up once everyone had sat down. "^We have gathered together to discuss the events of the past few days, and settle on a way forward.^" Her voice was much more subdued than its usual self, keeping itself from cracking or even slightly withdrawing through the sheer forces of willpower and very heavy practice. Any remaining murmurs in the crowd faded away the instant she spoke up, the entire clearing's emotion honing straight into confused uncertainty.

My favorite.

"IT IS AN OUTRAGE THAT—"

"Root," Equinox interrupted, his single word comment derailing the priest's rambling before it could even begin. As the badger stared daggers at such interruption, the puffball continued, his voice dry and ancient, "There is another important matter that has transpired the day before what you're itching to talk about. Let us please deal with it beforehand."

Sue had to forcibly hold in a chuckle at Root being so unceremoniously held back, a task that many others failed at. With a deep breath, the flaming badger did just that, the flames around his neck not growing any weaker as he sat down.

"Thank you," Equinox continued. "High Tide, could you iterate through your concerns for us?"

The crowd's attention turned towards the massive, blue, black-finned amphibian as she raised herself onto her hind legs and cleared her throat. "Of course, Equinox. The water situation isn't looking pretty. We're straining our stream hard, especially as we keep expanding our farms. I worry what might happen if an unexpected drought hits us later this year." Her voice was croaky and dry, keeping itself professionally flat despite quite a few emotions brewing up inside her head.

"Thank you. What are the possible answers to those concerns?"

"In simple terms—we don't have enough water to have a comfortable buffer. We can either reconsider our cultivars and stop growing some of the particularly thirsty ones, source our local water supply from somewhere, or relocate our farms, in part or full, further downstream. Our stream joins a large river around two days of steady march away. There wouldn't be any concerns with irrigation there for the foreseeable future." Having delivered her opinion, High Tide sat down, letting everyone focus on what the elders would say again.

"Straightforward matter ta' me," Daisy spoke up, swatting her paw off to the side. "Gotta cut some chaff and stick with what works. We're sure growin' waaaay too many different species in there, dunno if anyone eats half these things," she smirked, not thinking much of the whole affair.

"In my previous exchanges with High Tide, she had indicated that to be a very temporary solution, especially if Moonview keeps growing," Equinox stressed, shooting the blue rhino down with a justified concern as he plunged most of the gathered into a deeper thought.

"Naturally, we should expand downstream, and use these fertile lands for ourselves," Root proposed.

It was Sue's first time properly hearing his voice, the keening, downright sleazy sound sending a shudder down her spine. Thankfully, he too would see objections being raised to his idea. "There is a very high probability of those lands being already used for such a purpose, or otherwise controlled," Equinox reminded. "We would not be claiming wilderness for ourselves. In all likelihood, we would be taking fertile soil that already belongs to someone."

The badger only gave Equinox's counterpoint the briefest of considerations before scoffing it aside. "I do not see why that would matter. We are the Pale Lady's chosen peoples, all where Her light touches is our true domain. Why should we settle for anything less?"

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Because we gunna find our butts gettin' whooped otherwise. Do ya think they'd just let us take them with a justification like that?"

Root's glare narrowed at the blue rhino's response, as if she's spoken a sentence in an entirely different language. "They may try, but they shan't succeed, not with Her Grace at our side. Any strife to further Her glory is a strife justified." Sue shuddered deeply at the badger's rhetoric, much of it deeply unpleasant to listen to.

"Well, I'd sure darn hope you'd be the one bargin' in to defend 'our' lands in that case," Daisy scoffed.

Before Root could respond to her dismissive words, Equinox spoke once more—"And that is only one of our problems. At such a vast distance, would whatever settlement arises even be called Moonview anymore? For all practical matters, they will be entirely separate from us, related through little more than the deity they worship. To them, we would be mere overlords, demanding they harvest resources for our use."

"Not if we send our finest farmhands to take care of such a farm, the ones with unbreakable devotion," Root insisted, his tone dismissive.

"Devotion will not help said theoretical settlement becoming its own independent entity, and merely becoming allied with us," Equinox stressed. "Unless your idea is to forcibly rule such a distant place yourself, them gradually turning independent is all but unavoidable." His comment didn't inspire as much rage in Root's as Daisy's earlier one, thankfully.

Instead came what looked like genuine thoughtfulness, culminating with a shudder that sent the badger's flames dancing. Which exact part said reaction was in response to, Sue had absolutely no idea, and would rather not speculate lest it turned her even madder. "Ghrmmmm... fine enough," he eventually spat out. "The solution of searching for further local sources appears to be the best one, then."

Most Elders agreed with varying levels of confidence, owing less to Root having raised any particularly good points, and more so to that option being by far the least unsustainable of the three presented earlier.

"^Does the council agree on that course of action?^" Solstice asked, startling Sue out of her spaced out state; the discussion's topic making it hard for her to focus. None of this was anything that even remotely affected her, but what would almost certainly follow suit would, and now it was time for her to pay very close attention.

Either no reaction or modest nods from everyone gathered, with Root glaring motionlessly into the middle distance.

"^Then it is settled,^" Solstice continued. "^High Tide, I leave you in charge of that task. Gather any help around Moonview you feel necessary to accomplish with and ensure our water security.^"

"Aye aye, Solstice."

With the mundane subject over with, everyone knew very well what awaited now, and exactly nobody was looking forward to it. Or rather, exactly nobody with a singular exception of a particular angry flaming badger, whose emotions appeared to be a paradoxical mix of outrage and downright giddiness to indulge in said outrage, if not a conscious one. It felt... weird, but she was hardly unfamiliar with the underlying behavior.

Doomscrolling was something Sue was guilty of on more days than not. Even beyond just her, people constantly searching for stuff to be angry about was an internet pattern as old as time, and equally embarrassing each time. The occasions where it happened in person were always the worst ones, though.

Nothing she had to deal with personally—her dad had grown aloof in his final years but never went down that rotten path—but something she'd heard plenty about, be it as complaints, or harrowing stories about people's parents having their brains entirely eroded by anger-inducing cable television. It was terrible when stuff like that tore a family apart, but here it ran a serious risk of hurting unspeakably many people if indulged further.

Before Sue could ponder through that kind of behavior any further, Solstice resumed the discussion. "^With the topic of our water troubles done, let us proceed to the next—^"

"IT IS AN OUTRAGE THAT ONE OF THE NIGHT KIN WAS PERMITTED TO ENTER OUR HAVEN, AND DEFILE THE PALE LADY'S VISAGE!" Root shouted furiously, the voice so much louder than needed to be well heard by everyone around. Unfortunately for all present, he wasn't done yet, either. "WE WERE ATTACKED—NAY, ASSAULTED—BY THEIR DESPICABLE, FILTHY DEN! WE HAVE TOLERATED THEIR PRESENCE IN OUR VICINITY FOR FAR TOO LONG, EVEN FOLLOWING OUR RIGHTEOUS BANISHMENT OF THEIR FOUL KIND. HOW MANY MORE OF OUR PEOPLE MUST BE HURT, HOW MANY MORE OF OUR CHILDREN MUST DIE, HOW MUCH MORE OF OUR FAITH MUST BE DEBASED FOR US TO TAKE ACTION AGAINST THOSE MONSTERS!?"

His ranting made absolutely no sense, nor did it need to.

Just need a single person to stand up against this nonsense, come on.

Sue clung to Patina's claim like it was a piece of wreckage in the middle of the ocean, hoping more and more it would turn out right by the moment. She was managing for now, but… the same couldn't be said for Solstice. However anxious the Mayor had been earlier, her expression was now entirely flat and shaking, her emotions already veering perilously close to a full on internal breakdown. Her pupil wanted to say something, encourage her to push on and stand up against the badger's tide of anger—but she couldn't.

Especially after it got even worse.

"AND WORSE YET! IT WAS ONE OF OUR VERY OWN THAT SOUGHT TO UNDERMINE OUR VERY OWN DECREE FROM YEARS AGO AND ALLY WITH THESE FILTHY MONSTERS! IMAGINE WHAT ALL OUR LOST ONES MUST THINK AT THAT, AT THE ONES THEY USED TO TRUST, GOING AGAINST THEIR VERY LEGACY AND SPITTING ON ALL THE SUFFERING THEY HAD EXPERIENCED!? THE ONE WHO HAD SAW THE LIGHT THESE MANY YEARS AGO, ONLY TO GO AGAINST THE PALE LADY'S JUDGMENT DESPITE HER GRACIOUS TRUST IN THEM! JUST FOR OUR FAITH TO BE DEFILED, AND ANOTHER OF OUR CHERISHED TO BE GRIEVOUSLY WOUNDED BY THEIR SAVAGERY!"

Root might've been saying his shouts to the gathering at large, but his eyes were downright drilling into Solstice, harder and harder with every single word. Every remark, every allusion to what had happened, both recently and so many years ago, pushed her deeper into locked-up, mute panic. All the shame she had tried to suppress, over everything that had gone wrong, over her hand in everything—Aurora, the night kin, Sundance's injury—all of it happened, ultimately, because of her action or inaction.

It was all her fault.

She was wrong, so very wrong, but Sue felt entirely powerless to help.

Sue looked away in panic, trying to feebly sense someone, anyone, who was as much as considering opposing the ever-growing madness. Almost entirely silence from all around, with only the group of builders, Daisy included, even considering anything.

Please guys, you can do it.

All the while, Sue's only response to Root's ever furious shouts was steadily growing anger. At the depersonification, at the slurs, at attempts to speak in the name of those whose deaths hurt the night kin no less than they had hurt anyone else here.

At invoking Duck's name for hatred.

"OUR COURSE OF ACTION SHOULD BE OBVIOUS TO US ALL! THE PALE LADY DEMANDS US TO ACT, TO STRIKE BACK AGAINST SUCH HERESY AND BARBARISM! US PERMITTING THESE BEASTS TO LIVE WAS A MISTAKE, ONE THAT SHOULD BE RECTIFIED AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!"

In the corner of her eye, Sue saw Daisy and a few builders nod at each other before the blue rhino gathered her bearings and rolled her shoulders. Once Root had finally stopped to gather his breath, Daisy rose and interrupted him, her voice raised almost as much as his. "You cry for so many people to die for the actions of a single bleedin' owl!?"

"HARDLY, YOU BELLIGERENT FOOL! IT WAS NOT A SINGULAR ATTACK, NO, THEY HAD STRUCK SUNDANCE TO MAKE US FEARFUL, HESITANT TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT! NO MATTER OUR FEARS, I SHALL LEAD US WITH THE PALE LADY'S GUIDANCE TO DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE!"

"You've no idea what you're talkin' about, you melodramatic pile of shite!" Daisy snarled. "None of this was a coordinated attack by Newmoon as a whole—"

"THEIR FILTHY DEN DOES NOT DESERVE THE NAME OF OUR LADY ABOVE!"

"Shut up! Juniper attacked Sundance on her own, and what happened with Ginger was a bleedin' accident!"

"TO THINK SUCH UNFATHOMABLE HERESY HAS SPREAD EVEN TO ONES WE RELY ON THE MOST! THESE ARE LIES UTTERED BY THAT MALEVOLENT DEMON, ONES YOUR BAND OF BRUTES HAS CONFIDED IN FOR MUCH TOO LONG. NONE OF YOU ARE TRUSTWORTHY, NOT AFTER HIM FILLING YOU WITH HIS POISON DURING HIS ATTACK ON OUR BEAUTIFUL MOONVIEW!"

"Shut your bloody—"

"SILENCE!"​

Despite Daisy's determination just moments prior, the explosion of frenzied, purple flame combined with the nigh-deafening shout had finally undone her resolve, especially with nobody else speaking out. Uncertainty, sheer intimidation, it didn't matter. No matter the cause, the result was the same—and Sue grew even angrier at that realization.

"I SHALL NOT SUFFER SUCH HERETICAL CLAIMS ANY FURTHER. NONE OF YOU KNOW THE TRUTH EXCEPT THROUGH THAT BEAST'S LIES. TO THINK ANY OF YOU TRUSTED HIM EVEN FOR A MOMENT DISGUSTS ME BEYOND WORDS. TRULY, WE NEED TO ACT SWIFTLY AND PURGE THEM, PURGE THEM ALL, LEST THEIR VENOM CORRUPTS MORE OF THE ONES WE ONCE TRUSTED!"

Angrier at Root's hatred.

"TO LET THEM LIVE, HOWEVER FAR, IS A MERCY THESE BEASTS DO NOT DESERVE, AND A RISK WE CANNOT AFFORD!"

Angrier at Solstice's paralyzed stillness.

"THEY MUST BE BURNED WITH SACRED FLAME AND THE GROUND LEFT BEHIND SALTED, FOR THEIR DEFILEMENT GOES BEYOND MERE ACTIONS, IT IS THEIR VERY ESSENCE!"

Angrier at Moonview's inaction, in nobody standing up for what was right.

"WE SHOULD MARCH AS SWIFTLY AS WE CAN, AND STRIKE DOWN THE VERMIN AND THEIR FALSE GOD WITH ALL OUR VICIOUS MIGHT, FOR THE PALE LADY DECREES IT!"

Angrier at herself for having expected them to.

Sue shook in place as her fists clenched and teeth ground. She had never felt anywhere near this angry—fearful, anxious, overwhelmed, yes, plenty, but never actively as furious as she was being right now. None of this was right, and she could barely think.

A wordless urge cried out to her from not just her mind, but her very soul. The very same unfathomable instinct that made her act when Spark and Pollux were about to die, one she had no name for or conscious comprehension of. She remembered acting against it then, desperately trying to overrule it for the sake of her own survival—but now, Sue felt it grip her entire body, and gave in entirely.

Her breathing grew shallower and shallower as the entirety of her furious mind concentrated on a singular purpose. From where it came from, it didn't matter in the slightest. All the Forest Guardian knew was that so many innocents were at risk of death because of a single village's virulent hatred,

And that she couldn't let it happen.

"LET US COME, THEN! LET US DELIVER UTMOST JUSTICE TO THESE FIENDS FOR STRIKING OUR FRIEND AND FAITH ALIKE—"

"LIAR!!!"​

The shout froze the entire gathering as dozens upon dozens of minds focused on a single, incomprehensibly furious one. All Sue knew was that she was suddenly floating above the ground—and that she wasn't done yet.

"SUNDANCE WAS ATTACKED BY JUNIPER ALONE, AND PROVIDED AID BY ALL OF NEWMOON AFTERWARDS! ALL GINGER DID IN MOONVIEW WAS PURGE YOUR FOUL HERESY!"​

No matter how imposing, her voice wouldn't be able to stand alone, and she knew it.

"SOLSTICE, YOU WERE THERE! ATTEST TO MY WORDS!"​

Sue stared where she remembered the other Forest Guardian being, but couldn't make her own through the blinding flare of her own eyes. She'd spoken with power unlike herself, unlike anything she thought herself ever capable of, with a power that drew from the very core of the being she became—

But would it be enough?

Seconds stretched into ages as the younger Forest Guardian glared into the older one with a force beyond her conscious comprehension. It showed no signs of fading, but the person subsumed by it did, fear beginning to drip into the chamber of emotional superheated plasma that Sue's mind became. This was all she could do, all she could ever hope to do. And if it wasn't enough, if her utter desperation wasn't enough,

Then what would she even do?

Her mind shook, the motion slowly spreading over to her physical arms. All this wouldn't last for more than just a handful of moments longer, not with doubt beginning to fill her mind whole. Tears streamed down her contorted face, straight down onto her gritted teeth.

And then; she heard a voice.

Afraid.

Ashamed.

Guilty.

Unwavering.

"^I attest to your words, Sue,^" Solstice strained to speak, every single word painful. "^Juniper's attack was an act of momentary aggression, and Newmoon had attempted to capture her afterwards. She is not welcome there and will not be until she atones for her actions. Ginger had no intention of damaging the Night Mother's shrine, and Kantaro has no interest in repairing said damages.^"

At last, the choking silence gave way into uncountable murmurs as Sue felt whatever had just possessed her gradually let go. Her body descended until her feet touched the ground again, followed by her overworked mind letting go of the rest of her. She collapsed on all fours, struggling to catch her breath as many voices surrounded her, in awe, in concern.

Even with Solstice's translation, she couldn't understand them. She couldn't even understand her own mind right now, not with how utterly the last few moments had fried it.

What the fuck did I just do.

The words and sounds around her kept coming, though fewer and fewer of them were aimed directly at her. Once her head had stopped tormenting her for the act of breathing anymore, Sue finally attempted to sit back up and look at what was going on.

Root stared straight through her in an expression of distilled, mute fury as the discussion continued around him. In any other circumstances, she would've shied away; wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes for just an instant. But not here. Not now.

I will not let you do this.

Sue gritted her teeth and returned the glare even as her entire rattled, worn-out body shook. She wasn't a warrior; she wasn't a hero; she was just an unremarkable, socially stilted comp-sci student of hardly any ability and even less renown—and yet, she might've just saved several lives.

She kept her eyes locked with his for as long as she could, thanking Duck for the badger Elder looking towards one of his fellow council at some point. Her shaking hands tried to hold Spark as closely as possible, but they felt so numb, so uncontrollable. Sue closed her eyes, held the lil' fox tight, and breathed as deeply as she could—until she could hear more than just her own heartbeat hammering into her ears, until she regained sensation in her body again, until she could think again.

One, two, three.

Warmth in front of her, on her chest, pressing into her stomach. Unbearable pressure all over her body, one of a spring wound much too tight.

Four, five, six.

Incomprehensible noise frayed into individual sounds, still too hard to make heads and tails of. Vague warmth became the sensation of Spark's soft fur and wet nose. Her shoulders loosened; her hands weren't just a blur anymore.

Seven, eight.

Twinkle squirmed against her, and Spark calmed down, bit by bit. She unclenched her jaw and straightened her back. Words, all around her. 'Newmoon', 'Juniper', 'punishment', 'Sundance'. 'Discussion', 'aid', 'mistake', 'support'.

'Forest Guardian'.

'Sue'.

Nine, ten.

Sue held the little fox down as she finished coming to, the discussion still ongoing. At last, a plan began to come together along the steps of Solstice's and Sundance's initial idea back in Newmoon—aid and reconciliation. All around her, remarks about all this having gone on for long enough that Moonview was going insane and rewriting history.

Less so Moonview as a whole and more so specific actors, but... good enough.

She focused her eyes and took the scene in. Many were surprised or engaged, including a fair bit of the audience. Daisy and Splitleaf chattered; Orchid looked around uncomfortably. Equinox occasionally chimed in, remaining calm despite it all. Some others talked, some others didn't.

Willow sat silently, aghast.

Root's rage burned in silence, overpowered for once.

Solstice.

The older Forest Guardian contributed to the discussion while putting on as composed an appearance as she could manage. Underneath it all, pain and guilt, leaking into her stoic expression every time she looked in Sue's direction.

Suddenly, gasps, rattling, chaos, shuffling, all behind her. Sue tried to look, to figure out what was going on, but she didn't have to—she heard it first. "Don't you dare YOU BASTARDS—*GAH!*" Sundance cried, the sound followed moments later by her collapsing mere feet away from Sue, followed by a large stick following in tow beside her.

"MOM!" Spark shrieked as she raced over to her parent.

Sue wasn't far behind either, immediately kneeling beside her mentor. Sundance's arms convulsed, her teeth gritted in pain, but both sensations paled compared to the singular, determined drive in her mind; one conveyed to Sue with the most strained telepathy she'd ever felt from the vixen. "^Sue, they'll try to justify revenge in my name, d-don't let—^"

"It's, it's okay, Sundance. It's over, it's over, they—they won't do that," Sue whispered, still in disbelief over it all.

The vixen's shock was downright palpable as she tried to lift herself back onto her knees, her shaking glare sweeping along the gathered elders. Shock, fury, guilt, the latter even more acute than when Sue looked at the Mayor. So much was left unexplained, but Sue seemed to be right—it was already over.

"D-do you need help, Sundance?" Sue asked, receiving a wordless, pained nod. Telekinesis or not, she wasn't about to leave the vixen there. She kneeled beside the vixen, waiting for her mentor to lean on her.

With utmost strain, Sue pushed herself onto her legs as the vixen's body cooperated to whatever extent it was capable of. They turned around in a few slow motions before heading away from the meeting, one shaky step at a time. Spark woofed at her mom constantly, and each time Sundance replied in kind, their words an enigma.

Sue still wasn't sure if she truly felt like herself again after what had just happened. Regardless of that, her emotions were clear, and growing clearer still with every step away from the discussing mass and into the relative quiet of nighttime Moonview. She was happy. She wanted to cry for days. "I'm—I'm so glad you're back, Sundance, I—"

"^It's alright, Sue. I—*agh*—I suppose a lot happened when I was gone, hasn't—*ugh!*^" the vixen muttered back, telepathic words interrupted by physical grunts of pain.

"D-do you want me to slow down?"

Sundance nodded, furrowing her brows at the resulting headache. "^Just a bit. Feels like I—*oww*—I can barely control one limb at a time. I'll make it there, it'll just take a while.^"

"T-to your dwelling?" Sue asked.

"^No,^" the vixen answered. Her pupil stared surprised at her pained expression, making her elaborate—"^Solstice's tent is closer, we can—*agh!*—we can sit down in front of it. Turn left.^"

The Forest Guardian followed the directions as she tried to wash the last remnants of her outburst out of her system. To her disappointment, the more she succeeded, the more tired she became—but they thankfully weren't far from their destination.

"^And a lot has happened to you as well, hasn't it, Sue?^" the vixen asked, trying to distract herself from her bodily pains.

"Y-yeah, it has," Sue whispered.

"^Someone, even,^" Sundance chuckled, inspecting the bundle tied around Sue's chest with as much curiosity as she could manage while constantly being interrupted with pain.

"Their name is Twinkle, and... Solstice mentioned you'd know more about what they are."

"^Well, let's see about that,^" the vixen muttered, closing her eyes to focus as they all shambled forward. Sue was about to speak up that there was no point and that, to the best of her knowledge, Twinkle couldn't speak—but by then, it already was too late. "^Good evening, Twinkle.^"

If nothing else, Sue appreciated the nicety. Having them be treated as any other child would help a lot in making them feel less weird going forward, even if they wouldn't be able to do certain—

"H-hello..."​



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 25: Acceptance



Hearing the weak, ephemeral voice froze Sue in shock, almost toppling them both over. Thankfully, she snapped out of it shortly after, even doubling down on her pace just to find a spot to rest sooner. The sudden shift was rather amusing to the vixen beside her, though she didn't comment on it—she had to save all the breath she had for walking.

One strained, shambled corner later, Solstice's tent finally came into view, and with it, somewhere to sit down at.

Neither Sue nor Sundance knew how they'd managed to make it down onto the grass without outright collapsing, but they accomplished it all the same. Their only reward was a scene so dark they could only barely make each other out—aside from the very faint glow emanating from the eyes of everyone gathered, the only source of light was a single fireball on a pole a few dozen yards away.

Above them, uncountable stars and a thin crescent moon. Around them, slightly chilly air of the late spring evening. With them, much pain, much strain, much aching of the still-injured chest-mounted extremity...

And a tiny, ghostly child, understandable at last.

"Hello, Twinkle," Sue greeted, voice quivering as she calmed her breath, focusing the entirety of her attention on the bundle around her torso. "A-are you okay?"

Just to her side, Spark was getting comfortable on her mom's lap, valiantly holding back tears of relief at her finally being back. Said mom was focusing harder than she should have in her current state—but if not for her efforts, the confounding mess of thoughts and emotions swirling inside the canvas bag would remain completely incomprehensible. She'd live.

"Y-yes. Confused..." the ghostly voice answered.

As Sue held the bundle of ghost closer, and the bundle of ghost held her back, she realized she couldn't hear their voice. She could perceive it, she heard it in her mind, but there didn't seem to be a physical—"Yes, that's on me," Sundance cut in. "They aren't talking like we are, their thoughts are still messy and I'm having to do some interpretation to get the meaning from them."

On the other hand, Sue heard the barked sounds underlining Sundance's words clearly. She wasn't sure how to respond to her revelation, settling on thanking her with a curt nod before refocusing on Twinkle. "It's okay, it's okay, sweetie," she reassured, gently petting the bundle. "Here, lemme unwrap you."

Sue's arms shook as she untied the weak knot holding the dirty bag to her body, lil' one's ghostly tentacles immediately wrapping themselves around her. The sight made her pause for a bit before reaching to hold the hauntling's limb with one hand as the other kept freeing them, just to let them know she was still there for them.

And that she would always be, for as long as she could.

Once they were down on her lap, they took a few moments to come to afterwards, but once they did, they only held her closer. "Hey Twinkle. I'm—" Sue paused mid-word, mind tearing itself between the two equally valid answers to that question. Or rather, one truthful answer, and one she wished so very much she could say in the moment, but which still felt both harmful to admit to herself, and impossible to ever accomplish. "I'm Sue. We're here for you sweetie, everything will be alright."

While Sue was laser focused on keeping the ghost as happy as she could after what they'd gone through, Sundance... had questions, ones that would hopefully help. She waited until she was sure that the lil' one had understood Sue's response—however much of it they could comprehend—before chiming in as well. "Hello there, Twinkle," she chimed in, keeping her voice slow and calm. "My name is Sundance. You ran into Sue earlier, right?"

The vixen's words had the ghostly child first shrink at hearing the unfamiliar voice, and then shift focus over to the warm stranger. As simple as the question was, their answer took its time to arrive, making Sundance worry about potentially translating it incorrectly. Eventually, they whimpered, "Not remember..."

The response concerned both women, Sue's affection only growing more tender. She wanted to help somehow, but had no idea what to ask, ultimately resigning that task to Sundance. Spark, meanwhile, felt it appropriate to point out the obvious—"But Sue found you earlier, right Sue? And-and-and then she carried you around!"

Her loud tone had Twinkle withdraw some more, but their guardian's presence helped immensely in maintaining composure. "Spark, sweetie, let's give them some more space, okay?" Sundance chided with all the gentleness she was capable of. "They're clearly lost. Now, Twinkle—what do you remember?"

A pair of Sue's fingers were tenderly holding one of the ghost's tentacle-like limbs as they shook at the mystic's question. An overprotective part of her wanted to swoop in and shield them away from any further questioning, to not expose them to any more doubt or worry after everything they had gone through today. But, on the other hand… she knew full well that getting an idea of what they were and needed, and how their shapeless species worked, was an important task, too.

Sundance knows what to do; let's just leave it to her.

"Remember... Sue,"
Twinkle whimpered a short while later. "Many voices... sleep... two Sue..."

The phrasing had the vixen scrunch her features in confusion as she tried to parse it—only for her student to crack it first. "Solstice came by when I was sitting with them. D-do you mean another person who looked like me, Twinkle?"

A full body, bag-shuffling nod. "Yes..."

"Do you remember anything prior to that?" the vixen asked.

Sue scrunched her features—it would've been so weird if they didn't remember. She'd spent so much time chatting with Lilly, and then earlier resting beside Joy and Astra; no way Twinkle would just forget— "N-no good remember. Bad remember..." they answered.

For an instant, Sue was about to hold them even tighter at the implication of them having been in pain throughout that entire period. Sundance cut in right after, though, clarifying it for everyone. "They mean they don't remember well, Sue. Did anything important happen while you were with Solstice? And for you, Twinkle—could you say what you remember of those poor memories?"

The explanation released the tension from Sue's body before it could build any further, in the form of a very shaky exhale. The question that followed was one she wasn't sure how to answer; it sure didn't feel like she'd done much with them at that specific point. Finding them was important, as was comforting them, then Hazel helping everyone figure out they were a ghost, but anything to do with Solstice?

All I've done after that gloomy chat was—

...

Was give them a name.

"Before... everything weird. M-me not here. No thinking... scared, scared scared... nothing..."


Sue was thankfully spared from having to go over the day's events out loud once more; the vixen's focus pulling all it needed from the whirlpool of her thoughts. Sundance knew well that she only had a fragmentary picture, but couldn't help but be sadder at this little ghost—it seemed they had only really woken up once given a name.

"I-I'm so sorry, Twinkle," Sue whispered. "I promise, you're safe here; we're here for you." Nothing the hauntling had said was reassuring, and every single word made her want to only hold them tighter.

They entirely mirrored that desire, clinging close to her hands and waist as their baggy body shook. "Sue nice... S-Sue like?"

"Y-yes, of course I like you, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere."

Such a simple, trivial affirmation, and yet it did wonders for Twinkle. They calmed down as affection kept coming from their large guardian, each word and each stroke melting through all the fear rocking their shapeless body. "Not know who me... Sue nice... now me Twinkle... thank you..."

"You're—*sniff*—you're very welcome, sweetie."

The battle with her own tears was one Sue lost almost instantly, but to her relief, there were only a few of them this time, paired with an emotional, shaky smile. As much as Spark didn't want to leave her mom even for a moment, not now, she dared scoot to the edge of her lap and reach over to provide her own affection with a single shaky paw. Twinkle flinched a bit at the sensation, before finally giving into warm relief.

Goodness, do they need it. Do all of us need it.

Sundance wanted to ask them a couple more questions, but was well aware they could wait until tomorrow. Mirroring her daughter, she reached over with her left arm, pulling the Forest Guardian over to lean on her. Sue said, "Th-thank you—"

*squeak!*

The sound was rather muffled, but both women were familiar enough with it to know exactly who had made it. Before they could even finish turning their heads towards Solstice's tent, its only other permanent occupant had already parted its entrance open. Said occupant then proceeded to dash towards their little gathering for a few paces, before slowing down to a waddle, and then further into a crawl.

All the emotions happening outside might've been enough to wake Comet up, especially without his mom around him, but he was still a tired lil' Moon Child. One that, after the past couple of days, really needed the happiness his big friend and Sundance were radiating.

Sue scooped him up into her arms before he could even finish crawling over. The lil' psychic rewarded her with his clumsiest hug yet, as well as a drawn-out gurgle that then turned into a yawn the longer he was held. "Hey, Comet. W-wonder how'd you get out of your cot," Sue giggled. "Did you wanna chat with us?"

*squeak!*

"Seems so. It's very late for you, Comet. You shouldn't be staying up this late," Sundance commented, smiling widely in her exhaustion.

He might not have understood much of the vixen words, but it was still enough for him to respond with the world's most ineffectual attempt to shake his little head. The sight drew laughs from Sundance and her student alike—and even Spark once she'd pushed through her own increasing drowsiness to make out what was happening around her.

With a ruffle of his hair—answered with more weak shaking—the Forest Guardian slowly lowered the psychic infant onto her lap, trying to lay him down on the edge of her lap so that his head would rest on a tuft of the vixen's fur. The instant she'd done so, his uncoordinated arms grabbed the closest source of emotional warmth they could sense, and held it close.

Twinkle's startle at being held was noticeable to the assorted psychics, but soon eased out after nothing bad kept happening—because nothing bad would happen now. Sue was there for them; others accepted and liked them even with them being... like this. They had a shape; they had a name; they could finally think; they could... be.

Comet was too drowsy to spot the pitch-black tentacles wrapping around him, but he enjoyed the sensation all the same. And so did the lil' ghost, all the relief and comfort making their own stressed exhaustion all the more apparent.

They must've gone through so much...

Neither Sue nor Sundance spoke for a while afterwards, both gently comforting the little ones on their lap as Moonview sank deeper and deeper into the night. It wasn't getting any darker now, but it was getting colder, making Sue lean further on the vixen—to the latter's amusement.

Both of them had so much to talk about. They also both needed to catch their breath, chew through what they'd seen, think of what to even say. Before they could finish doing so, though, someone showing up in this remote corner of the village caught their attention first. They weren't glowing, but the distant light still illuminated just enough of the blue compound eyes and red chitin to let Sue recognize them as the ladybug that had been hostile to her earlier in the day—

And for them to recognize her and, even more importantly, Sundance in return.

Surprise, anger, fear—all of them sudden enough to give Sue whiplash and make Comet mumble in his dreams. None of them acted on beyond the ladybug in question turning around and buzzing away from them in a straight line.

"What's up with them?" Sue asked, unnerved. Even if the ladybug was one of the least intimidating people in Moonview, she was still weary of having a local be so angry at her.

Root was one thing, a case she compartmentalized enough to not be in paralyzing fear all the time. The asshole badger made sense to be furious, especially now. But Sunrise? All she'd done was grab food from them a couple times and suddenly they were glaring at her like they wanted to eat her.

"Sunrise is a... sad, yet silly situation," Sundance sighed.

The word 'silly' didn't fit either the vixen's manner of speaking, nor the insect in question, only catching Sue's attention more. "How so?"

"They are unable to speak."

Sue nodded. "Y-yeah, Solstice told me that. Why does that m—"

"They were a hatchling when the plague arrived. Thankfully, they survived, but much of their respiratory system was damaged and left them mute. Unfortunate, however..." Sundance groaned, "they've been blaming the night kin for that fact ever since. I suppose it's a more understandable source of grief than with most others, but prejudiced all the same."

Sue couldn't argue with that, cringing at the entire situation. "That's rough."

"Indeed. Alas, if nothing else, it is a reminder that suffering doesn't ennoble us—it only scars us."

With Sunrise gone, the little corner of Moonview grew quiet again, filled only with the irregular breaths of the three sleeping children and the adults looking after them. It was calm enough to have brought Sue to her own rest, if not for everything on her mind—and good Duck was there a lot on her mind.

Sundance was very aware of that, having gotten a brief glimpse of the underlying murk when Sue hesitated giving her name to Twinkle. It was time to tackle it, at last. "How have you been, Sue?" the vixen asked, the question deliberately leading. "Much unpleasantness must've happened while I was unconscious."

"That's... yeah. Though it's not just that, it's—" Sue caught herself mid sentence, analyzing the situation.

If there was anyone she could be open about this, all this with, it was the vixen. Someone with friendly relations, but only that. Someone that wouldn't be immediately hurt by her revealing what had been eating her up for the good while now. Someone she trusted to be logical about the situation.

And yet, Sue still hesitated.

This all hurts, it all hurts so fucking much to approach, but I know I have to.

For Joy, for Twinkle, for Lilly, for Solstice.


"And for yourself, too."

Sundance completing her thought would've made Sue jump in her seat if not for the weight of two tykes pinning her down. She turned to stare at the darkness where her mentor ought to be, eyes as wide as they could get—and received quiet, woofing laughter in response. "Apologies," the vixen chuckled, "it is hard to not overhear with just us two and this clearly eating you up so much."

"It—it is, yeah," Sue mumbled, looking away in embarrassment, one hand gently stroking Twinkle's bag as she searched for words to drape her agonizing worries in. None of them made any sense with just the stuff Sundance already knew, forcing her to reveal a bit more of her hand. "Y-you know how I... arrived from a different world entirely?"

Sundance nodded, expression growing serious. "It is still hard to truly grasp."

"Yeah. A-and I... I have knowledge that I will eventually have to go back there."

Sue saw the vixen's dimly glowing eyes turn to look at her, coming together into a surprised expression. "What 'kind' of knowledge?"

For a moment, the once-human considered explaining everything to Sundance—the visions, the deities, the torments, physical and mental they had subjected her to. She hoped her mentor would've been able to make sense of them, but… there really wasn't much that any sense could be made of. Her dreams and the gods inside them had explained little concrete so far, and while she already had helped prevent another atrocity from being committed towards the night kin, she still worried that explaining her supposed mission would still undermine the relations between the two villages even further.

And so, Sue just shook her head—what had brought her here wasn't the point, after all. "I-I can't elaborate; I'm sorry. B-but it's not that I'm afraid of coming back, it's..." she trailed off. Her hand kept dishing affection to the two kids on her lap, the barely visible motions cluing the vixen in. "Joy and—and Twinkle, and Lilly, a-and even Solstice all... I already feel close to them. I r-really care for them, and I think they care for me too, and now that I know I'll eventually leave them it all feels so awful and I don't know if I'm hurting them by being close and caring of them if I'm just gonna disappear and leave them alone and betrayed and—"

The steadily growing pain in Sue's heart forced her to stop. She couldn't take it, this enormity of the loss awaiting her, awaiting them all. It felt like it was devouring her mind, subsuming each neuron one by one and replacing it with anxious despair with a sprinkling of guilt.

Sundance, however, drew… a different interpretation. "So... death."

What!?

"No, I wouldn't be dead," Sue insisted. "I would just be gone and—"

"I did not mean a literal death, Sue. Merely that, just like death, you... 'returning to your world' would be a permanent change that forever separates you from the ones you care for here. One you dread, and which you fear could strike at any moment," Sundance explained.

Sue was left reeling even after the elaboration, but the more she thought about it, the harder it was to disagree with that comparison. It really would be just like dying. Sure, she as a person would keep on living back on Earth—presumably—but to everyone here, she would as well be dead. A slightly different, but much more familiar frame of mind.

Equally terrifying. "I... I guess."

Sundance's soft chuckle relieved some of the tension of the scene, especially as she followed it up with a few pats on the back. Sue really needed them, as hard as that fact was to admit to herself. As if in response to that very thought, the pats were upgraded to one arm wrapping around her shoulders and holding her tight.

...

Yeah, that was in response to my thought, wasn't it?

As if there was any doubt, the vixen laughed right after, the sound eventually spreading to Sue. The Forest Guardian's laughter was nervous and somewhat forced, but still helped, even if a bit. "Do I wish I had my pipe with me," the vixen sighed. "Just the right thing for chewing through conundrums like these."

Sue considered offering her help for all of a quarter of a second before remembering that she neither had any idea how to find Sundance's home in the dark, nor a clue about where the vixen even held the pipe in her dwelling.

"I'll make do, don't worry Sue."

On cue, the once-human heard a faint snapping sound behind her and looked around to investigate—only to see a small stick enveloped by an orange shimmer, hovering towards the vixen's grasp.

And then, Sundance bit a solid half of it off with a single crunch, lit up one end of the remaining piece, and put the other in her mouth as if it was a pretend cigar, switching to telepathy while she chewed through literal wood. "^Does the 'death' framing help with these fears?^"

The question reaching Sue's mind snapped her out of staring at what in the world her mentor was doing, and back to the subject at hand. "I-I'm not sure. I guess it's a bit like death, but that doesn't help much. I still worry that I shouldn't be doing... any of this, like I shouldn't even be getting to know anyone here because when I leave, they'll just be suddenly left alone again. Like I just hurt people in the long run when I get close to any of them..."

As genuine as Sue's words were, she continued to defy her worries by constantly petting the little sleeping ghost on her lap—which didn't go by the vixen unnoticed. "^And yet, you keep doing it.^"

Sue felt called out, freezing in place. Her heart hammered as if trying to break free, all the shame suddenly returning in force to torment her all at once.

I'm hurting them all I'm hurting them all I'm hurting them all they're gonna suffer because of—

*snap*


The faint clicking noise instantaneously broke Sue out of her spiraling anxiety, drawing her attention to the barely visible paw in front of her face.

"^I apologize, Sue,^" Sundance whispered, expression having turned serious in the dark. "^Making you feel cornered wasn't my intent. However, I believe it remains a fair point, but not one you should admonish yourself over—that helps nobody. Instead, I want you to focus and give me an honest answer about why do you think you keep doing it.^"

The vixen's sudden gesture might've derailed Sue's train of thought for a moment, but the anxiety from which it had emerged didn't suddenly disappear. Still, her calm tone helped a lot, giving her pupil something to focus on besides just wailing on herself more and more. That didn't mean it was easy thinking about it as opposed to criticizing herself further, but at least it felt possible now.

It didn't help that Sue couldn't think of an answer. "I-I don't know, I—there isn't a big reason, I don't think," she shuddered. "It's all just been a very spur-of-the-moment thing. Like, Joy ended up with us at the clinic by accident and she wanted comfort and I gave it and we grew closer, a-and Twinkle just... saw me and disguised themselves as Comet and wanted me to find them, and Lilly... felt like she liked me."

"^She does.^"

"It's... it's moment to moment stuff, there isn't any real plan, just me... being clingy, I guess."

Even the framing of a more helpful, logical question couldn't withstand the barrage of Sue's loathing forever, and it was getting treacherously close to establishing control over her again. On cue, the vixen pulled her in again, holding her that bit more firmly. "^You have done nothing wrong, Sue. I know you know that too, deep down, but I also know how it helps to have someone else say these words. And so, I repeat: you have done nothing wrong.^"

Again, the reassurances helped greatly, even if it would take a while for the shift to really be noticeable to the Forest Guardian herself. For the time being, she just nodded idly, trying to maintain control over her breathing throughout.

"^In light of that, I have a broader question, if you don't mind,^" the vixen continued.

Sue idly nodded, eager to talk about anything but this. "G-go ahead."

"^What do you strive for in life?^"

Everything the vixen had asked previously might have been various degrees of confounding to anxiety-inducing, but this one... Sue had no idea whatsoever. It was one of those questions that she never treated seriously, because in every other circumstance, they either were asked in bad faith, as an excuse to have her join a cult, or like the person asking didn't really care about what she answered. Neither of these was the case here, and so she had to at least attempt to answer.

Even if all she could think of was 'none of the above'.

"N-nothing," Sue shuddered, her answer depressing her further. "There's nothing I even could strive for. Basically, my entire life back—back in my world—has taken place without my input. I've just been carried by these currents that I couldn't fight, went along with what people wanted me to do. School, now college, then work, hell even my emotions it feels like sometimes. I-It just feels like there's nothing I can strive for because there's nothing I can do to change anything. I'm just... powerless," she trailed off, her voice little more than a defeated whimper by the end of her explanation.

Sue gathered her thoughts, summing them all up with a grumbled line, the topic bringing forth a mix of anger and resignation—"How the fuck can I strive for anything if there's bloody nothing I can even do..."

Some concepts were unfamiliar to the vixen, some she'd really want to ask about sometime... but not now. Because no matter what had motivated Sue's understandable response,

It was incorrect. "^I disagree.^"

The unexpectedly curt, somewhat ambiguous reply snapped Sue out of her preemptive moping and drove her attention to the fox, just in time to see her bite off what remained of her stick and levitate another one over. "D-disagree with what?"

"^You being powerless.^"

I mean... of course you would in a magical, medieval world like this.

Sue rolled her eyes. "Y-yeah, because I know this world isn't like mine and I could just get up and go wherever I can and all that."

Her pupil's exasperation was amusing, enough so to make the vixen laugh quietly, despite Sue's bad-faith response. "^Could you?^"

Sue didn't expect to be challenged on that, stammering as she tried to clarify, "I-I mean, not me me, but most others wh-who aren't hurt could—"

"^Could they?^" Sundance pressed on, smirking. "^They'd still have to uproot significant chunks of, if not their entire lives, for that purpose. Leave Moonview's safety—unequal as it is—and expose themselves to the dangerous world, without others to fall back on. Even if many who live here would be reasonably safe from predation, that's hardly the only risk if they were to just get up and venture out into the world.^"

Sue got increasingly annoyed by the vixen's words. It felt as if Sundance was intentionally missing the point in an uncalled-for, mocking way, so unlike her. No matter how much that freedom might've been fleeing here, it was still much more so than most people had back home, and of course those here had much more of it. "Hard to believe that, since almost everyone in Moonview seems to have come from somewhere else..." she grumbled.

"^Well, you're obviously not going to meet anyone who has failed at that. Who had left their home, but didn't make it before finding a safe place.^"

...

That... wasn't a point Sue had considered before.

The long buried knowledge of her statistics class chimed in just to remark that this kind of error probably had its own name, but she couldn't remember it on the spot. She was left stunned as she tried to parse the implications of these words, letting Sundance continue. "^Most here had only taken that risk because their home, for one reason or another, had grown to be worse than the risk of braving the world. I can assure you, almost nobody here would ever consider leaving Moonview unless things got dramatically worse. Your thoughts aren't exactly subtle about how entrapping you feel your world is, and I doubt ours is as bad, but they're not that different, Sue.^"

Despite Sundance not raising her voice even slightly throughout all that, Sue felt as if she'd gotten schooled hard. A re-affirmation of the vixen's side hug helped, but she still had no idea how to respond at the moment.

And so, her mentor continued. "^I know how that powerlessness feels. The feeling of being guided through life along a predetermined path, of being a spectator in one's own life... isn't a new one to me,^" she explained, her voice somber as she held her pupil that bit closer. "^As pervasive and paralyzing as that sensation is, and as true as it might sometimes be, it won't remain so forever. Even if it really doesn't feel like it, each of us has many small decisions throughout our daily lives that can leave a lasting impact. Doing something nice for a friend. Following one's curiosity. Helping someone when they're down.^"

That last possibility made Sue lean in closer to the child on her lap as her touch grew shaky.

"^For the most part, they really are small, and they won't matter in the grand scheme of things,^" Sundance clarified. "^But sometimes, they will. Sometimes, even an off-handed decision can change someone's life, for good or ill. It can even change our lives. These opportunities come all the time, and even if most won't amount to anything, some will. Be it a small matter that turns out impactful or an ordinary important decision, there are only very few unfortunate souls out there that are truly powerless. For everyone else, I believe knowing what one strives for is important, so that when an opportunity like that arrives, be it large or not, we know what we really want and can act on that.^"

Sue remained silent, slowly parsing and comprehending everything the vixen had said, to various results. Sundance, however, wasn't done yet.

"^I wasn't referring to deciding on some arbitrary goal earlier or some transcendent concept. Whether we're aware of it or not, deep down, we all have a longing inside us. Devotion to a deity, a craving to see the world, a sense of duty to someone, even just wanting to be happy. They can all guide us if they're what we really want, deep down. Digging into yourself, coming to terms with your subconscious desires, elevating them from our soul's call to our mind's command—it's hard. It's very hard. And yet, it's oh-so-important, because if one doesn't know what they want, what they truly desire... they inevitably end up being swept along someone else's path. Someone else's desires. And more often than not…^"

Sundance concluded with a shudder. "^…it will be a path to misery.^"

The longer explanation made more sense in Sue's mind, but she still wasn't entirely convinced yet. Much of it wasn't sitting quite right, but before she could put that disconnect to words, a question from earlier made a reprise. "^So, Sue. What do you want to do? To be?^"

Sue's brain tried to wriggle away from that kind of introspection, immediately bringing up the most obvious concern: "Wh-what if I choose wrong?"

"^What then?^" Sundance asked back, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.

The instant response bluescreened the Forest Guardian's mind for a moment, leaving her utterly uncertain what to do but to persist in case she was misunderstood. "I-I'm asking you that!"

"^And I'm asking you!^"

Sue was entirely lost now, her confusion bringing the already amused vixen to soft laughter. Still, it was important to address, and that's what the mystic did.

"^Our desires can be incorrect. They can betray us; they can harm others. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is dig into ourselves and figure out what we desire, and then work on ourselves to change that. But even for that, we need to be aware of what we want before we can work on changing it. Hiding from our desires won't do us any good, because whether we're willing to acknowledge them or not, they're there all the same. They can change, they will change, they should change—what truly matters is being attuned to their cries. Being able to reach into one's soul and see what comes out.^"

The follow-up answered the most glaring detail in Sue's mind, leaving her with no choice but to finally face the vixen's question once more—"^Again. What do you want to be, Sue?^"

The words thrashed around in Sue's head like a rabid animal.

She'd gotten so disconnected from any thoughts of that sort that answering the question felt downright impossible. What she wanted deep down never mattered, never could matter; she had always just been a cog in a machine so large that her getting removed from it would never be noticed by anyone—and yet, she still had to face it all the same. There was one somewhat obvious thread she could see. It wasn't the entire truth, but it at least was in the right direction.

Suppose I can just go with it for now.

"I-I wanna... I wanna be happy, I think," Sue admitted, trying to hold back tears.

"^Happy,^" the vixen nodded. "^That's a good start. Has interacting with those you've bonded with so far, with Twinkle and others, made you happy?^"

The answer was the most obvious 'yes' in Sue's life, but framing it like that felt like a downright deceitful oversimplification. "Y-yes, but what about when I'm gone? Won't I hurt them even more by bonding with them just to disappear afterwards? How hurt will they be when that happens!?"

"^How hurt will you be?^" Sundance cut in, her words feeling as if an icicle had stabbed Sue's skull.

She froze, nigh-paralyzed, almost unable to think as she tried to focus on the eventual fate of the one person she hadn't considered in that worst-case scenario—herself. Her brain almost refused to consider that idea because of how much despair it brought within her.

Despair or not, though... she'd probably be fine in the end. She'd already lost those she loved twice—if needed, she'd endure life taking a third swing at her with a bat full of nails. It'd hurt, hurt so fucking much, but... she'd be fine. She would always be fine.

Even if she obviously wouldn't be fine. "I-I'll make it, a-and I guess Lilly and Solstice will too. B-but I'm worried about the k—about Joy and Twinkle. They'll be heartbroken. They already feel so close to me and I don't even know for how long I'll remain here."

"^Well... that's already happened, hasn't it?^" Sundance pointed out. "^They're already close to you. If you want them to not be in as much pain once you're gone, you can try to expose them to different people, steer their attachment to someone else.^"

Something deep inside Sue screamed at that thought, which her mind then disguised in a reasonable enough objection. "Th-that doesn't feel possible w-with how attached and scared T-Twinkle is, and Astra will be leaving Joy with me for a few days now, so I won't be able to do that."

"^Why not?^" the vixen pressed the point. "^You can still have them meet other people that would take care of them even if they aren't truly ready to be cared for by someone else yet. In the meantime, you can build them up to be more independent and courageous, so that they'll fare without you better. How does that sound?^"

It was an entirely rhetorical question, and knowingly so.

Sundance felt the despair within Sue the instant she brought up that possibility, and now that she'd elaborated upon it, it only swelled further. She could tell that her pupil obviously wanted the latter—wanted the little ones under her care to be independent and courageous, to be their own people—but the former, the idea of withdrawing away from them and having someone else be their guardian... was heartbreaking. She was well aware.

But it was Sue that had to consciously admit that to herself. "^You don't want others to look after them instead of you, do you?^" the vixen kept going.

A direct question provided a lifeline that Sue's despairing mind greedily clung to. Tears flowed freely down her scowling face as she nodded weakly, making Sundance push whichever psychics she had access to and envelop her student in a warm, full-body mental embrace. Sue needed it, but she also needed to be honest with herself. "^You want to be their guardian, now and forever, don't you?^"

"Yes, but I-I—" Sue whimpered, "—I don't w-wanna hurt them—*sniff*—"

"^You haven't hurt them, Sue,^" Sundance reminded, her voice as firm as it ever got. "^You have likely saved Twinkle's life, and even from the little I got to see, Joy has soared and been slowly coming out of her shell under your care. I promise you've done nothing wrong, Sue. Do you know when you'll be returning to your world, if such a thing will happen?^"

"N-no... *sniff*"

"^Then spend your days with them as if they were your last. Love with your entire heart; encourage them towards courage and independence; do what you can to soften the inevitable blow if you think you might be gone soon. Don't leave them, don't distance yourself from them, because they care for you as much as you care for them. You've been doing so much good Sue, and even if the worst happens, even if you disappear literally tonight, their lives will still be made so much better for having known you. Besides, we'll all still be here, ready to console them and pick up the mantle.^"

The reassurance helped, but it could only do so much, and it sure wouldn't be enough to sweeten all the truth it was delivered with. It only hurt Sue more; it only brought more pain; the torment of a purifying flame forcibly cleansing her mind. The muck in her head wouldn't go down without a fight, without flailing as it burned.

And the vixen was ready to take it all on.

"B-b-but what about L-Lilly?" Sue's mind thrashed. "I've b-been lying to her b-by—by not telling her, she'd never want a-anything to do with me if—*sniff*—if she knew I could just disappear—"

"^Everyone can just disappear, Sue, that's how life is. Fickle and unpredictable, sometimes it just ends without rhyme or reason, for the dumbest and most tragic of reasons. And yet, we have to live through it. We don't constantly think about all the ways in which our lives can end at any point, and neither should we.^" Sue wasn't convinced at her words, almost calming her breathing enough to respond—only for the vixen to butt in. "^Has knowing Lilly and being close with her made you happy?^"

"Y-yes—"

"^Has it made her happy?^"

Despite all the muck going through Sue's mind, she couldn't deny being certain of the answer to that. "Yes, b-but—"

"^Do you want to get closer with her, get to know her more, go beyond that blissful infatuation?^"

"Yes—"

"^Then why not? Why not do what makes both of you happy? Why would you choose not to brighten your days more? I know you've said that this 'return' isn't really death, but it might as well be—and as with any death, you can't let it take control over you. You have one life to fill with happiness and you've been bloody good about that, if I may say so. You've brought them all comfort, joy, care, even love. You've done so many good things, made so many lives better, and we both know you want to keep doing that. You can't let death stop you from living your life.^"

And then, one final blow that brought what remained of the once-human's composure down. "^You deserve happiness, Sue, and you've done nothing wrong.^"

Sue's slow trickle of tears grew to an all out wailing. She kept trying to think through Sundance's words, to come up with responses, but it was hard; it was so fucking hard.

Her worst fear had been laid bare for her, her desire to be these poor kids' guardian, her rapidly blooming crush on Lilly, all forcefully shoved into her face. She'd been running away from all this for so long, from the truth she'd been trying to suppress, but she couldn't do so forever.

I don't want to go back.

Even now, with her entire mind brought to a white-hot heat, that still felt so difficult to admit.

And the same went for each of her individual desires that had led up to that conclusion, stripped of any layers of self-deprecation or distance from what she really felt. It was so incredibly hard to overcome the thrashing part of her mind, the demon that always invalidated her desires before they could bloom, whose only purpose was pointing at her worst parts and using them to 'justify' why her wants were bad and she ought to feel bad for them.

But this time, she felt like she'd managed that feat, even if for a moment. She'd looked all the way into herself, into her very soul—or rather, was forcibly shoved in there by the vixen beside her—and came face to face with what she desired, stripped of her conscious mind's negative self-perception.

It felt liberating; it felt terrifying.

Even if she was aware of almost all of her hidden desires now, that still didn't change the fact that she wasn't in control and that she could lose them all. Before that realization could drag her into a dark, painful pit, she thought back to what Sundance had said earlier, about these small decisions that could matter, the choices. She tried clinging to them as much as she could, hoping that the desire to never come back would ever amount to anything—even if she knew all too well that it wouldn't.

Still, she pushed on, shouted the loudest internal 'LALALA' of her life to suppress that truth. Hopeless or not, she would persevere, and despite knowing just how powerless she was, she wouldn't let it stop her from being happy, from being there for those she cared about.

Sue had absolutely no idea whether that resolve would survive until the next morning—or even until her next yawn—but if nothing else, she had something to come back to, a conviction to copy at her darkest moments, however ineffectually. That was all just in case for the future, and now...

Now, Sue was utterly exhausted.

By the time she'd returned to the world around her, she realized her head was buried in Sundance's shoulder fluff, its warmth contrasting with the surrounding coldness. Her mind was a mess; it'd likely never stop being a mess, but... it was a slightly cleaner mess now. She'd finally dared clean up the pile of dirty dishes that had been left to fester for way too long, and as much as it sucked, at least she knew what color her cupboard was again now.

And just how much she wanted to stay in this wild world where so few things made sense.

"^Hello, Sue.^"

Sundance's telepathic voice, coming back after what felt like hours, had the Forest Guardian slowly pick herself back up into something approximating a sitting position. One of her arms was still embraced around her, while her other paw rested on the side of Comet's head, gently stroking it.

Oh shoot, I hope I haven't woken him up—

"^No, you haven't,^" the vixen reassured. "^I won't deny that it required a lot of effort to keep him asleep. Are you feeling better after all this?^"

As soggy, worn down, and utterly, completely drained as Sue felt after everything she'd just been through... yes, she was. She'd still need a good night's rest to really make that better feeling come through, though. "I-I think so."

"^Good, good. This... hurts, I'm well aware, but that only makes it more important to face. Or, at least, that's how I always thought about it.^"

"M-mhm."

Sundance chuckled at Sue's mumbled response, lightly patting her on the shoulder. "^Sounds like someone could really use some rest now, couldn't she?^"

Sue rolled her eyes, only for the blink that followed to last much longer than she thought it would. Yeah, it was time to—

"Sue?" Solstice's voice caught both women off guard, Sundance even more so than Sue. They couldn't see much of the older Forest Guardian in the darkness, but the little they made out painted a picture that was almost as soggy as her pupil. "Are you okay, Sue?"

"I'm—I'm alright..."

The response wasn't satisfying, but neither of the three were deluded enough to expect anything better by now. One aching step after another, the Mayor had walked over to Sundance's other side and sat down, sighing in relief once she leaned on her friend. As concerned as everyone gathered was for everyone else, the topic of the entire blasted council meeting was too important not to bring up right away.

"M-many people chimed in after you left, and we've figured out a plan for now," Solstice explained, exhausted. "We undid the banishment decree. We're also planning to send a bunch of resources—tools, food and such—to Newmoon in a couple of days, m-make that first step as a town. All the builders were pushing for that one."

Relief from all around, melting even further through whatever composure Sue still had left. "^That's very good. However, Solstice—what about you? Are you okay?^" Sundance asked.

"I'm..." Solstice trailed off. Sue couldn't see her shudder, but she felt it—and together with it, so many sad emotions that were only barely remaining contained under her eyelids. "I'm not doing the best right now..."

The vixen nodded wordlessly, immediately getting to thinking as words were silently exchanged between the two. Sue neither noticed nor cared; she was well aware of how much she needed her rest, but—

...

Joy.

The realization that she still hadn't picked up the metal girl from her dragon guardian startled Sue all the way to full awareness. She'd totally forgotten in all this chaos, Astra would be lost and Joy so distraught, she'd fucked up she'd fucked up—

"^Need to get a hold of Astra?^" the vixen asked.

Sue answered without looking back at the mystic, eyes straining as they scanned what they could see of the skyline.

"I remember spotting her flying overhead a few minutes ago," Solstice chimed in. "She must be looking for you, Sue." Her clarification brought relief, but it only helped so much with Sue having absolutely no idea how she would even catch Astra's attention.

Right as she was about to descend back into panic, she felt Sundance's left arm unwrap itself from around her and reach upwards. With a well-practiced flick, the fiery vixen retrieved her wand from the confines of her fur, simultaneously setting its tip ablaze. "^I should have enough in me to still pull that off.^"

"P-pull what—"

Sue saw it before she could even finish asking.

A weak orange shimmer filled the vixen's eyes as she moved her wand around, as if writing, with tracers of bright red embers weaving through the air a few dozen feet above them in tune with her every flick. Soon, a few symbols in Moonview's language came together to compose what appeared to be a single word.

And if the high-pitched, reptilian whine that had reached them shortly afterwards was any sign, the burning sign had reached its target.

With a final flick, the mystic undid all her magical writing, returning the surrounding skies back to darkness. None of the three could see much immediately after—not with their eyes needing time to get used to an absence of light again—but they very much heard the flaps of Astra's wings coming closer and closer, followed by a couple thuds on the nearby grass.

And then, a jovial greeting. "Hey Sue! Sorry it took me so long, I couldn't find—oh I'm sorry I'll be quiet now—Mrs. Sundance!"

Despite Astra's best attempt at keeping herself under control, seeing the vixen be alright again broke clean through her limited composure. If not for there being no room around the mystic, she would've crouched and held her tight there and then. Instead, a bit of laughter had to suffice. "^Yes, yes I'm back, Astra,^" Sundance sighed, giggling. "^I'm happy to see you and Joy are alright.^"

"She was excited to be spending the night with Sue. I know she'll miss me after a couple of days, and I hope I can be back soon, but I'm sure she'll really love it here. Right, Sue?"

Through the power of sheer willpower, the younger Forest Guardian didn't let Astra's words reopen any of her emotional wounds from earlier, keeping herself to the most strenuous nod of her life. "Y-yeah. I-I hope she will."

The dragon beamed at the small group. "I'm sure of it! Can you take her now, or do you need help with moving her to the bed?"

I don't think I can even stand up unassisted right now.

"Sue needs a bit of help, Astra," the Mayor explained.

"Sure, Mrs. Solstice! Want me to help you stand up, Sue?" Astra asked, the question taking Sue aback in how unprepared she and the contents of her lap were for such a task. Thankfully, Solstice soon whisked Comet away, and for Twinkle, she could just tie their bag around her chest again for now. Not the most comfortable solution—probably not even for the lil' ghost—but good enough for the time being.

From there, it was just a matter of grabbing the dragon's massive paw, letting her raw strength pull Sue's comparatively tiny self upright in one motion, then slowly stumbling over to Solstice's tent. "Thank you so much for agreeing to this, Sue!" the dragon cheered. "I know it's a lot to ask, but she really likes you and isn't this comfortable with anyone else. She was much more skittish when I had to leave last time, and now look at her! She even joined up with other kids and played with them for a while after you left earlier. I've never seen her do that before!"

Sue was so, so glad it was too dark for Astra to notice the tears flowing down her face. "I-I'm so glad to hear..."

Unfortunately, that didn't extend to noticing just how wobbly her voice was. "Are you okay, Sue?" the dragon asked.

Shoot.

"I'm... it's been a long evening," Sue sighed, trying to blink her tears away.

"I get it! I've heard you did something really cool at the council meeting earlier. That must've taken a lot outta you!"

Sue giggled in exhaustion. "Y-you could say that..."

"Hope you all get some good rest tonight!"

As weak as Sue felt, she had enough stamina in her to carry the sleeping Joy from the tent's entrance over to her bed, even if barely. As much as the dragon half-heartedly regretted not being able to give her one last embrace before her next trip, Sue was so incredibly thankful she left instead of awkwardly waiting for her to walk back to send her off.

The moment she sat down on the bed, she just about felt her legs fall off.

It took a couple moments orienting herself and Joy into a comfortable position—or at least what she hoped was a comfortable position in the latter's case—but she got there, eventually. She laid near one edge of the bed, and most of the toothy girl rested on the pillow, right in front of her face. Firmly outside the flailing range of her front horn.

I hope.

Even with them all laid down, Sue's mind needed a moment to finish reeling over the sheer totality of what it had experienced today. All the distress, all the relief, so many overwhelming sensations that each would've left her completely wiped back on Earth. A gauntlet that she somehow managed to push through, and was so grateful for it.

And now, it was just her, and a pair of kids that had stolen her heart.

Twinkle was already clinging to her; Joy got her one free arm to hold in her sleep; it was time to rest. There just so happened to be an appropriate tune that soon crept to her mind, the coincidence making her giggle. It wasn't much use with both the kids asleep, but... maybe it could help her.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, little star,
how I wonder what you are—
"

"^None of us are guiltless in this, Solstice.^"

Right as the last of Sue's brain cells were about to throw in the towel, hearing Sundance's voice in her mind snapped her back to semi-awareness. It wasn't aimed at her, and Sue had no idea about how she could even hear it. Either way, she had no choice but to eavesdrop while her conscience kept trying to make her finally doze off.

"^You've done bad things, so have we all. We have to push on.^"

"^I thought myself to be above all this, above the Elders' council. Indeed, I think me leaving resulted in more harm than good. I put my pride above ensuring the council wouldn't hurt more. I know it was my choice, Solstice, I'm just saying it was a selfish choice.^"

...

"^He's not. He never was, and never will. Remember your oath, Solstice. To bring peace and healing to all. Your bond with the Pale Lady is yours, and yours alone. It is your sacred guidance; treat it as such. Cherish it, make it fill you with conviction and resolve, and not with doubt. What Root or Solanum say doesn't matter, you know better than to treat their word as anything other than the heresy it is.^"

"^You're welcome.^"

...

"^Yes, I can't deny that. Sue is like Aurora in many ways, but she's her own person. I know you know, Solstice, but it's still worth stressing. I agree, bad things will happen if they remain mixed in your mind. What are you going to do with that fact?^"

...

...

"^Then it sounds like you finally have to bury Aurora, once and for all.^"


♪B♭ E♭ B♭ D. D. E♭—♪

Sue let her hands keep jamming on their autopilot while her awareness came together, one note at a time. The same clearing yet again, where incomprehensible horror and annoying deities lurked alike. Which of these would await her this time, she had no idea.

Only one way to find out, is there?

With one last deep breath, she opened her eyes and brought the music to a stop. She wasn't even surprised to be playing her mom's guitar anymore, not with how stubbornly it kept showing up here and just how... right doing so felt. A bit more annoying than the last time, with her fingers covered with what felt like cheap glue residue, but still manageable. Fittingly, the guitar looked like it had been glued together from hundreds of pieces, similarly stained and dirtied all over. Visibly damaged and repaired, rather dirty and in need of a solid clean-up,

But in one piece again.

Sue couldn't pay that fact much attention as she scanned her surroundings. To her right, a shadowy figure, just like she'd seen in some of her past dreams. To her left—

Joy and Twinkle sitting beside each other, jamming it out to the now-stopped tunes. She watched them turn towards her; smile and wave as if nothing was amiss. Happy to see her, happy to be with her. And then, they were gone in a blink, together with the shadow on her other side.

I don't want to think about this. Whoever's here better show up, so I don't have to think about this—

For once, Destiny answered her prayers.

Right as Sue's strained mind was about to connect the sight she'd just witnessed to the very-needed-but-equally-unpleasant discussion from earlier, something moved in the corner of her view. A single, torn sheet of paper, fluttering around as it landed on her mom's guitar. She had a hunch about what she'd see scribbled on it, and much to her dread,

She was right.

Well done.

"Justice," she muttered. "What does any of this—" Before she could finish her sentence, another page fluttered down from above. This time, Sue didn't rest her attention on the piece of paper itself, moving her gaze up instead, towards where it came from.

And there she saw... something.

And It saw her too, discarding the page It held before floating down to in front of her personally.

It was only about the size of her head, with a silver body and yellowish... crown, pointing straight up and to the sides. On each of its tips, plates of pure silver, engraved so intricately they hurt to look at. Behind It, a long cape the color of Its headpiece. Its three eyes stared into her, their gaze seeing deep into the future.

"Might as well."

Its words were uttered by a choir of a thousand silver voices, with just the slightest feminine slant.

"J-Justice," Sue whispered as she leaned in a bit.

"Correct, mortal."

Sue's eyes narrowed at being referred to like that, but she wasn't going to waste an opportunity to speak directly to someone so central to the mess she ended up in. "D-did you enter my dream earlier?"

To her further frustration, It rolled Its eyes before floating further away, scanning the surrounding dreamscape.

"Of course I did, mortal."

She really wasn't in the mood for this divine horseshit. "Fine, have an actual question—who the fuck did this to me!?"

"I have already answered that."

Sue faintly recalled the chaotic, golden scribble from a couple of dreams ago, the sight as frustrating for her now as it was back then. "That's still not an answer!"

"It is exactly the answer you can perceive."

"Bullshit—"

"I DO NOT LIE."

In the blink of an eye, Justice had moved to within an inch of her face, eyes burning with the purest of starlight. Despite their utter flatness earlier, there was a divine fury to these particular words, their sheer might enough to freeze Sue where she sat.

With another blink, it was all over. It was back to where It had been before, floating through the air as if immune to gravity.

It took Sue a few minutes to gather the courage to look away after witnessing that. She was still angry at everything about this, angrier still at being so outmatched even inside her own head, but had to put that aside for now. As much as she wanted to call almost every deity obscenities right now, there was something in particular she now, more than ever, needed to know. "Wh-what happens now with my 'plan'? Isn't it done? Moonview is going to give Newmoon aid, th-the night kin are allowed back, Duck and Night Father will get together and all that—what now?"

She dreaded thinking about the answer, but she had to know, for everyone's sake. If she knew how much time she had left here, she'd be able to act on that knowledge, make amends and say goodbyes, make sure her departure would hurt others the least amount possible. Any attempt to think about that entire topic drove a rusty, serrated knife deeper into her brain, but it had to be done.

And to her dismay, she wouldn't even get that.

A disjointed noise of a thousand overlapping laughs made her flinch as the deity floated back towards her. Its previous total flatness was replaced with the slightest of smirks, even that tiny change feeling significant and infuriating. Sue was too disoriented and unnerved to even be offended at what It said next.

"Mortals only see what's right in front of their eyes, do they not."

And then, It looked up. Sue was unsure about following Its gaze, but found her attention being dragged along against her will.

A full Moon loomed above them, several times larger than it ought to be. It looked profoundly wrong, as if infected and swollen. Massive, oppressively bright, with a light that burned and not mended. It forced Sue to reel and hide behind her arms, growing ever more mighty, ever more vivid, ever more crushing with every moment.

Looming ever closer.

"It will not be..."

The fell Moon's influence burned everything around her, crushing first the scenery, and then Sue herself, into the ground. All-encompassing, all-destroying, a dominating force with no relief or mercy. It ground at it all, until nothing remained, until all was subsumed.

Until the darkness was no more.

"...that easy."



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!​
 


Interlude IV: Investigation



It was as if every new day only made this mess of a case even more utterly incoherent.

The man stared intently at the scribble-filled chalkboard occupying much of his office. This wasn't their investigation to be undertaking—assisting the law enforcement as subject matter experts and for search and rescue operations, sure, but not as a driving force. They weren't equipped, trained, or—for the most part—even willing to have anything more to do with this case than the absolute minimum possible.

And yet, he found it too perplexing to look away.

To the surprise of the woodland authority and law enforcement alike, there just so happened to be several witnesses nearby when... whatever had happened, happened. None of them saw it, but they all heard it. One by one, their statements were taken, contributing valuable knowledge to what had become known as the 'Sue Mullins Incident'.

Contrary to all the throwaway YouTube videos released within the first week of the disappearance becoming public, no witnesses had heard a gunshot. What they did hear, however, were two loud bangs, described as sounding very unlike gunfire, and a woman's scream.

He wasn't supposed to know any of this, but sometimes having a cop 'friend' one barely tolerates paid off.

Investigation's quick action and well-detailed maps of the surrounding woods let many witnesses pinpoint their position when they heard it all start. From there, it became possible to triangulate the approximate positions of the bangs and the scream, as well as establish a rudimentary timeline of events. Which—

*ughhhhhhh...*

The man sighed deeply as he rubbed his forehead, attempting to focus after three shots too many. His every attempt to piece this together had ended the same way—with frustration, inebriation, or, more often than not, both. And yet, he just couldn't look away. It was a mess, an intricate mess that had to mean something, but which nobody could crack.

Sound 1—12.04.2023, 2:13 PM local time.

The first bang is heard. The approximate location where it had originated from has been nicknamed 'point beta'. Point beta is a location around 800 meters from where the victim's items were found—nicknamed 'point alpha'—in the east-southeast direction.

Sound 2—12.04.2023, 2:15 PM local time, described as anywhere from one to two minutes after sound 1.

A scream of a woman in her young twenties is heard, originating from point alpha. It is described as sounding agonized and abruptly cutting off.

Sound 3—12.04.2023, 2:16 PM local time, described as anywhere from twenty to thirty seconds after sound 2.

The second bang is heard, identical to the first one, originating from point alpha.

It was the most obvious instance of Foul Play that most involved in the investigation had ever seen in their lives, and yet they couldn't find a single piece of useful evidence. No traces of third parties' DNA, no footprints, no casings or gunpowder residue. Nothing that would indicate just what the bangs were, nothing pointing towards any specific perpetrator.

Or at least, that's what the case was until yesterday.

The report that had reached the police—and three hours later, the man's desk—took everyone aback in more ways than one. There indeed was no typical evidence, but a more detailed investigation of points alpha and beta found—

Good fuck, that felt silly to even think about, but was too significant to not be relevant somehow.

—small amounts of very fine gold dust scattered around the forest floor. And not just any gold dust, radioactive gold dust, enough so for the entire initial search and rescue team to be forced to undergo decontamination. In addition, the air at the two points was also discovered to have a substantial concentration of ozone, and the grass at point beta was noticed to have been slightly flattened in a radial pattern away from a central spot.

What the hell any of that actually implied, they couldn't figure out. Just what these two bangs were, they couldn't figure out. What was the significance of the dead squirrel they found near point alpha, determined to have died by being thrown hard enough at a nearby tree to break its spine while somehow having no foreign DNA on it and there not being any footsteps around,

They couldn't figure out.

All the revelations were weird enough to grab the attention of several government agencies—including Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs—but they didn't help the actual investigation one bit. Who knew, maybe it was some sort of centrally planned assassination? Maybe this college student with no friends and no family really knew enough state secrets to where she had to be eliminated in the most baffling way possible. Maybe she had become a victim of a mad nuclear chemist on the run.

Maybe Fate just felt particularly funny that day—

*ba-ping!*

Oh, fuck off.



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 26: Kinship



For the first time in a while, Sue let herself rest for as long as she needed.

The surrounding tranquility soothed her as her awareness drifted around, never quite falling back asleep, but not waking up either. Warmth, safety, just enough ambient glow for it to not be entirely dark, all combining into a profoundly calming experience. It's been... years, decades since she could recall being at this much of a peace in the morning. Without anything that needed to be attended to right away, without any persistent worries.

Granted, she wasn't quite sure whether the latter was earned considering just what she'd seen at the end of her dream, but she discarded it soon enough. Ominous, sure, but hardly meaningful, and she wasn't in the mood to try predicting the future based on her exhausted, trauma-influenced dreams.

Especially since, unless she tripped on a magical ocarina later today, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop the Moon from falling on her.

Or Duck, for that matter.

The thought—equal parts stupid and morbid—did wonders in speeding Sue's awakening. Just a few minutes later, she'd gone from idly resting to stretching and yawning as her mind felt around the room with its extra sense. Solstice was absent—understandable, with her having an important job. The same was true for Comet; she must've taken him somewhere. In front of her, Joy snoozed on, her quiet snores making up much of the quaint ambiance. Twinkle—

...

...

Twinkle wasn't here.

The revelation tossed Sue into the freezing lake of full focus, eyes not even wincing as they snapped wide open. Confirming her worries, the messy bag wrapped around her chest was empty, sending her straight into ever-tightening anxiety. "Twinkle? Twinkle!?"

Her aching limbs' complaints fell on deaf ears as Sue pushed herself up, frantically scanning around the room. The awareness that she was looking for someone whose true form wasn't meant to be looked at was present in her head, but shoved into a locker. She didn't care that the sight might hurt her; she needed to find them; she needed to find her—the little one.

With each nook investigated and found empty, she felt the stabbing feeling in her chest grow more intense, any remaining grasp on calmness fading soon. She kept looking around the tent, soon getting on her knees to check under the beddings and baskets, to the immense displeasure of her still-hurting leg. It could wait, everything could wait, she had to find them; they had to be somewhere in here!

R-right?

Only emptiness, again and again. Most trinkets she spotted were overlooked in the chaos, including a small bundle of a long needle and several tiny bags she found hidden under Solstice's bed. She didn't have the spare brainpower to think about it or even remember seeing it—all that mattered was finding the little ghost. With each passing moment, anxiety distilled into despair, catalyzed by the pulsating pain on her still-injured leg.

They must've headed out, but how am I gonna find them!? What if they ran off into the woods; what if they hate me now; what if they died—

*rustle-rustle*


The sudden sound made Sue look over hard enough to make her neck hurt, but she didn't have it in her to think about that. Or... anything else, for that matter.

For a few moments, she stared at the misshapen, pitch-black spot, unable to process the sight. Her body ached as her brain remained locked up, air slowly running out—

And then, the blob noticed what their presence was doing, and hid behind her bed with a distorted, terrified squeak. Sue's loud gasp that followed didn't help with their worries, but not even the Forest Guardian herself cared one bit about how much her airways hurt. They were here; they were safe, that's all that mattered, that's all that could ever matter!

...

They were also palpably scared, so even if she was crying tears of joy, it was best she took it slow. "H-hey Twinkle, I'm okay, I-I'm okay."

Sue's body shook as she crawled back onto her bedding and approached the edge the lil' ghost was hiding behind. Her tears flowed all the while, resisting being controlled despite how unnecessary they were. She overreacted and Twinkle was safe now; there was hardly anything worth crying about, but...

The mere possibility of losing them hurt so much more than she could admit to herself, even now. "I'm here sweetie, I'm here," she comforted the little ghost, voice wavering. "It's okay, it's okay."

After laying down next to the edge of the bed, Sue reached one arm towards the hiding ghost. Warm relief shot through her at feeling their ethereal, amorphous warmth grasp her hand, and then more of it once she switched to careful petting. "There, there. Let's—let's see if I can talk with you any."

With Twinkle's tentacle held firmly, Sue started maneuvering her mental link with her other hand. Despite knowing full well where the lil' ghost was, a psychic connection was surprisingly difficult, their 'signal'—for a lack of a better term—faint and smeared over a small area as opposed to being concentrated in a single bright spot. Nothing she couldn't overcome, though, even with the added difficulty of her horn aching throughout the entire process.

Even once Sue was as sure she was connected as she'd ever get, she remained uncertain how to communicate with the lil' one. Sundance's words were fresh in her mind, about her needing to do some legwork to get anything coherent out of Twinkle's murky, indeterminate thoughts. Legwork that Sue wouldn't have a shred of an idea of how to begin even without her current injury.

She needed something simpler—and it didn't get any simpler than a binary 'yes' or 'no'. "Twinkle? Can you hear me?"

Focusing on her sixth sense, Sue felt their attention shift at hearing her words, the slurry of emotions in their mind soon shifting from fear to contentment.

Let's take that as 'yes'.

"I'm glad. Are you okay?" she asked. In return, she felt happiness, paired with more of their pitch-black warmth wrapping around her outstretched hand. "I'm happy to see you, too. Did you leave while I was sleeping?"

Fright. Not an emotion she was sure how to interpret, leaving her uncertain what to say. Before she could figure out what to say next, though, Sue felt something be pressed against her palm, as if the lil' ghost was passing it over to her. With them backing off a few moments later, the Forest Guardian pulled her hand back, and saw...

A few freshly plucked dandelions.

The connection took its sweet time to form in her mind, time that only left Twinkle more worried. Sue laid the flowers on the edge of her bed before letting them hold her hand again, analyzing them with her other one.

Just some dandelions. Do they mean something to them, or—

...

...

Flowers.

"A-are these for me, Twinkle?"

A much firmer grasp on her hand, a lot more joy. As direct of a confirmation as she'd ever get, the sweetness of it all soon dissolving the last she had left of her earlier fear. In an instant, the small bundle in front of her went from assorted weeds to something she wanted to treasure. Some of those murky emotions were there, too—the kneejerk desire to reject that bliss filling her mind, to distance herself from both it and the little one that brought it.

After yesterday, though, Sue had it in her to push them away before they could worm themselves into her head, earlier tears coming back for a reprise. "Th-that's so sweet of you, Twinkle. Thank you so much."

Soothing happiness, bright enough to warm Sue's body up. More fodder for happy tears, ones she didn't even try to fight. She overreacted when they disappeared; she overreacted now—

Who bloody cares, I'm so happy and so are they.

For a short while, they both basked in the joy of it all, of delivering to and receiving a gift from someone they cared about so much. It'd still be best for the stressful part of this situation to be avoided in the future, but that could wait just a bit. Even at their happiest, even at the absolute firmest she ever felt them hold her hand, it was hardly any more forceful than if she'd submerged it in water. The realization made her want to hold Twinkle even harder—they must be so little and weak and, and—

And she wanted to be there for them, to protect them from any more fear or grief ever again. Though first she had to make sure they wouldn't squirm away again. "If you ever wanna head out, could you wake me up first, Twinkle? I... I got scared when you left earlier."

On cue, an unpleasant jolt of their own fear, one Sue tried to soothe as firmly as she could, be it by pets or words. "It's okay sweetie, I'm okay now! Just asking for the future. I... I really care about you, a-and want to know where you are, okie?" she asked. Twinkle kept clinging to her, calming down by the moment. They didn't want to leave her ever again—and neither did she. "Here, lemme give you your bag again."

As Sue unwrapped the makeshift costume from around her torso, it really hit her just how... unsightly it was. She was far from a germaphobe—the often-messy state of her college dorm was proof positive of that—but the condition of the rag the little one hid in still had her grow queasy once she inspected it. Dirt stains, discoloration, a couple specks she could swear were dried blood.

Twinkle deserved so much better, even if Sue had no idea how to help at the moment.

In just a few minutes, the lil' ghost was back in their bag and scrambling over to hold their guardian as close as they could. Two tentacles wrapped around her midriff, and a third around her petting hand, each gentle stroke calming them down bit by bit. As keen as Sue was to just stay like this all day long, though, Twinkle wasn't even the only child she was taking care of—and after her raised voice and the resulting chaos, the other one was slowly waking up as well.

Oh goodness, the maw yawns too. I don't care that I should be terrified; this is adorable.

After a couple of stretches of her own, Joy sat up and rubbed the sand out of her eyes. To little surprise, she was taken aback at the change in scenery, enough so to put her on edge—before spotting Sue, at least. And once she did, she didn't hesitate even for a moment before dashing over and wrapping her arms around her.

"Goodness, what did I do to deserve you both..." Sue swooned, only barely stopping herself from breaking into tears again. Joy spotted her near-sogginess, looking up at her with concern. With Twinkle taking her one available link, she had no idea how to verbally convey what she just said to the metal girl, but... verbally wasn't the only option.

Especially since something told her that Joy appreciated being lifted into a hug just as much as a spoken explanation.

With the display of affection done, the three of them calmed down some more—enough so for Twinkle to draw attention to the small bundle of dandelions on the bed's corner. Sue wasn't too certain what to do with them, but she knew they deserved something being done with them. Hmm, what about…

Taking Twinkle off-guard, Sue plucked one dandelion out of their grasp before weaving it into the loops that kept the ghost wrapped up. The second flower got clumsily wrapped around one of Joy's... curls, much to her confusion, and the third Sue wove into her own hair. "How's that, Twinkle?"

No verbal response, but gesturing made up for that in spades. One black tentacle pointed at Sue, then at Joy, and finally, after some thinking, at themselves.

"Yep, we each have a flower you brought," Sue giggled. "Thank you again; that's really sweet of you."

It was only at that point that the toothy girl had woken up enough to consciously notice the bag-child just a couple of feet away from her. She faintly remembered seeing them yesterday, including the fact that they weren't dangerous, but still had almost no idea who this stranger was. Sue didn't have a way to tell her, but... she could still introduce them, if clumsily. "Joy, this is Twinkle. I'm looking after you both."

One hand grabbed Joy's, and the other took a hold of Twinkle's tentacle, catching the attention of them both. Bringing them together went without any hitches, beyond reasonable apprehension. The metal girl was taken aback at how weird the ghost's limb felt, and in return, Twinkle was unnerved at Joy's maw. Nothing they couldn't work through, especially with Sue being there with them.

I won't let anyone hurt you while I'm here.

Before the lil' ones could meet each other more, they all heard the entrance to the tent being parted again, this time by a pair of much more obvious suspects. The smaller of the two immediately reacted with a drawn-out, elated squeak at seeing his friends awake, and the larger one wasted little time before following in tow with a rough spun bag in one hand, and a... bucket in the other. "Good morning everyone! I hope you all slept well."

Considering the strain of the past couple of days, Solstice was remarkably upbeat.

The mood shift was enough to bring some concern of its own to Sue, and the worries about the Mayor trying to mask what she felt inside didn't take long to pop up. The older Forest Guardian sensed them clearly, answering Sue's uncertain look with a firm nod and a telepathic whisper as she stepped in and lowered Comet onto the floor of her tent. "^You aren't the only one with whom a chat with Sundance helped a lot. I still have much to process, I'm very well aware, but... it feels possible now.^"

Sue didn't feel comfortable prodding for any deeper confirmation, but she didn't need to, either. To the contrary, it was her noticeably soggy state that was much more eye-catching of the two—enough so for the Mayor to want to investigate deeper—before deciding against it. Whatever had happened, Sue had clearly figured it out herself, and if she needed further help, she knew how to ask for it.

Which just left pride; equally pleasant for both Forest Guardians.

*squeak!*

And of course, the lil' Moon Child too.

As Sue tried not to laugh at the sight of Comet dispensing indiscriminate affection to her leg, she watched Solstice pull out everything she'd brought with herself, the assorted veggies making sense with what she said afterwards—"Breakfast time! Goodness, it's been a while since I had the time to prepare something like this, and now I get to do it for twice as many heads as usual, ha!"

Sue's scan of the laid out ingredients couldn't piece them together into any meal she was especially familiar with. Potatoes, onions, a couple of peppers and several of the local lookalikes of the vegetables she knew. She couldn't say she ever liked raw tomatoes, but at least the ones back home didn't have spikes jutting out of them. "What are you gonna make?" she asked.

"Tamato stew, used to have it all the time growing up. Despite everything, it... it still brings some good memories. Was always a highlight of the day."

Tomato, tamato.

The Mayor's words could be interpreted in many concerning ways. Instead, Sue settled on a sympathetic smile, eagerly accepted. The thought of having a stew for breakfast was... odd, but considering Sue's daily meal schedule back on Earth was 'anything goes', she didn't have any ground to stand on. "Can I help anyhow?"

"Hmm... I only keep one knife in here, so unlikely. I appreciate the offer, though! Hah... I remember helping with these when I was much younger than you. It was always a family effort, by and only for us; guests got something else instead. Don't see why I can't make an exception here—what use are rules like that which only make us more miserable to follow?"

Sue was equal parts appreciative of the nice meal, and internally aching at the implication, however true, that she was in the category of 'guest' and not 'family'. She didn't put words to that thought, trying as hard as she could to swallow it down, but... it was still here, and Solstice could still sense it clearly. Neither of the two knew how to work their way out of that unpleasant feeling, prompting the Mayor to focus on continuing her cooking instead, an apologetic expression clear on her face.

Comet aside, the other little ones watched closely as Solstice reached out towards the small hearth and filled the hole in the dirt with several pieces of charcoal. Sue expected her to bring out a piece of flint and scrape some sparks out of it next, but what she did instead was much more eye-catching, if unexpected.

A dim glow shrouded her eyes and fingers as she wove the latter around in a pattern Sue couldn't immediately piece together. If it was some sort of mystical spell, it was certainly working. The glow intensified until turning into a burning bright tracer, culminating in a small burst of intense flame striking the awaiting fuel.

Definitely something Sue expected Sundance to be capable of, but not Solstice.

"^Heh, she actually taught me that one!^" the Mayor laughed telepathically. "^Really handy, even if nowhere near as flashy as her way of doing it.^"

Sue didn't think the elemental magic of that sort was as... teachable as Solstice's description implied it to be. Before she could finish moving away from the earlier unpleasant topic and ask about the ingredients, she saw Joy lean in closer to the pot beside her, obviously curious about what was happening there. Something to ask her mentor about, after she figured out how to withdraw her link from Twinkle and reach Joy with it—

"^Communication is becoming a thorn, isn't it, Sue?^"

The question took the younger Forest Guardian from the left field, but she couldn't disagree with it. She dearly appreciated having a way to talk to people in here, but its limitations grew starker and starker by the day. Nothing Sue would let bring her down, nowhere near, but still an annoyance best dealt with sooner or later. "Y-yeah..." she sighed.

Her words and their uncertain tone caught the kids' attention, much to her embarrassed happiness.

"^Seems like some learning is in order, especially now that you're watching over two little people,^" Solstice giggled. Sue responded with a firm nod, hands indiscriminately dispensing affection to the tykes beside her as her mentor continued, "^Alrighty! Would you want to try it now while I'm working on the stew?^"

As much as Sue agreed she needed to get better at this, she didn't see how she could do so in her current state. She wanted to, she really did, but if the injury on her chest made it so difficult to do the little she already knew, there was no way she could meaningfully train anything more intense.

Outvoted by a frickin' papercut.

Before Sue could state the objection out loud, Solstice was already thinking through it while chopping vegetables on autopilot. She didn't disagree; an injury of this sort was an obstacle. However, it wasn't going away anytime soon. Horn injuries always took a long time to heal, an unpleasant detail the Mayor knew from experience.

And with Sue being the type to try running away with a broken leg, Solstice wasn't expecting her to not try improving her psychics in the meantime, anyway. The least she could do was to watch over her, make sure she wasn't aggravating it by accident, and—where possible—focus on the technique as opposed to raw, pain-inducing force.

...

She still hoped Sue would at least keep from bench pressing with her mind until her horn was all good, though. "^Don't worry, it shouldn't be too painful. Still, let me know if it ever gets too bad or you need a moment,^" Solstice reassured before switching to spoken word. "Alright everyone, would you mind giving Sue some space? I'll be teaching her some more psychics so that she can talk with you more easily."

Sue was taken aback at Solstice's eagerness as the young 'uns listened to her request. Joy followed it right away, but Twinkle… hesitated, for very reasonable reasons at that. Solstice was of half a mind to try calming them down, just like she remembered doing with Joy a few days ago, but noticed that her student wanted to tackle that instead.

Sue didn't have a magical anathema to them being clingy either, but could at least underline that yes, she would remain here for them—which was exactly what she did. "C'mere, Twinkle. I'm not going anywhere; I'm right here. You just need to wait for me to finish some practicing with Solstice, okay? You can play with Joy and Comet until I'm done."

Her hand carefully gripped their bag, while the other pointed out the two tykes as she mentioned them—with a loud, happy squeak adding to the Moon Child's description. It filled Twinkle with enough confidence for them to slowly slink off his guardian's lap on their own, to Sue's amazement. She didn't comment as she watched them lower themselves on the floor on their own, and hoped her wide, slightly soggy smile was self-explanatory enough.

Not even Comet's very pushy kind of friendliness and Twinkle's skittish reaction to it could ruin the sweetness all around her—not if Joy had anything to say at least. She stepped in between the two kids before the lil' psychic could finish excitedly crawling over, speaking up—"S-s-slow!" Her voice was noticeably less shaky than the last time Sue had heard it, adding another heaping dose of pride to her cocktail of emotions.

Vague as the single word request was on its own, his mom's translation helped Comet understand it while the metal girl looked over her shoulder to see if Twinkle was alright too, following her guardian's steps and patting their bag just in case they weren't.

Several tentacles wrapping themselves around her in response took her back a bit, but the two adults' laughter melted through any fear before it could even arise. "Thank you, Joy," Sue beamed, giddy in her seat. The girl answered with an excited smile of her own, ecstatic about her efforts to help the other lil' one having been noticed.

Solstice nodded, excited. "^Alright Sue, let's get to it. My only concern is that your previous technique of using arms to assist yourself might be ill-suited here. It's clearly helping you, but I have a hard time imagining how it could control more than two mental reaches at the same time.^"

Sue… wasn't sure how she'd deal with that problem. If she had to change tracks away from her hand-based technique for this, then she was unlikely to achieve any progress at all, with everything she would first need to learn the 'right' way before continuing.

All that, though, paled compared to the other fact she glimpsed from her mentor's words. "Wh-what do you mean, two?" she asked.

Solstice paused her breakfast preparation at her student's question. "^Oh?^" Once she figured out what Sue meant, though, it sent her into a giggling fit that she tried to contain as hard as she could—ineffectively. The situation made for a good teaching moment, if nothing else, making her explain—"^I see~. I want you to first tune out emotions and focus, so that I can show you something.^"

Sue did as instructed, the former task made much easier through practice. Even with several more minds compared to her last training session, she found dimming feelings' bright glare to be much more straightforward than just a few days ago. In no time, the world around her was reduced to just a few shining pinpricks of consciousness, and... a small glowing cloud where Twinkle was.

It wasn't just me, their mind really is different, huh.

"^Now, watch,^" Solstice instructed. Sue felt her body instinctively reel back a bit at seeing six protrusions reach out from her mentor's consciousness all at once, each waving in unison as her physical body kept chopping veggies. "^You can get much higher than just the one link you were using~. I'd say I can manage around ten or so, though not all at once.^"

If Sue's eyes were open, she would've been staring wide. "T-ten? How!?"

"^Takes a lot of practice, and is hardly ever useful, ha. The really tough part is independently controlling them, and there I can only handle three groups at the same time or so.^" Sue didn't think she was anywhere close to catching up with other psychics around Moonview, but this explanation sure cemented that fact even more. Sensing that, Solstice reassured, "^In your case, actively using multiple of them simultaneously won't even be needed for now.^"

"R-right, but what if I want to link up with more than one person?" Sue asked.

"^That can be done one at a time~. Once you're connected to someone, it doesn't really take much focus to keep that connection going, does it?^"

Sue's very tenuous grasp on much of this subject—and especially anything that went beyond the vague vibes she got used to by now—left her feeling anxious. Before the older Forest Guardian could intervene, though, her student took a deep breath and chewed through the question instead of immediately panicking. Once she processed it one word at a time, the answer was straightforward—"R-right. Sorry, just... it's overwhelming."

"^It's okay. Take all the time you need, Sue.^"

Sue smiled weakly, opening her eyes just for a moment. Her mentor had much the same expression, patient and...

Yes, patient and motherly. Congratulations, visual cortex, you have noticed the obvious. Want a cookie or something?

Solstice blinked, taken aback at the sudden jolt in her pupil's mood. "^S-Sue?^"

"It's—it's nothing," Sue lied, shaking her head. "Lemme get back to it."

Thankfully, Sue didn't spot the amused, raised eyebrow going her way. "^Alright. So, now that you know that multiple extensions of your mind are a possibility, let's start with just the one you're used to. I'm... unsure how well your hand-based technique will be suited for this, though. It'd be easiest for now if you tried reaching over using just your mind, if possible.^"

Oh well. "L-Lemme try."

Her recent injury didn't appreciate the efforts that followed one bit. Unfortunately for it, Sue didn't care, grimacing slightly as she first tuned out the emotional glare, and then reached out of her skull while her hands gripped her thin legs. It was much harder than what she'd been doing previously, more painful, but possible, contrary to her earlier worries.

Not particularly jaw-dropping progress, but progress all the same.

A minute of contorting her brain and slightly squirming her body later, the tip of Sue's mental reach had made its way over to the older Forest Guardian, adding a bright, warm glow of happiness to her emotions. Any relief gained from that action, though, was immediately undone by the slimy, chilling sensation of her mental tentacle being grasped and forcibly held in place, even as her mind tried to retract it.

It felt just like she thought a Wet Willie would feel.

"^I know, it's unpleasant, and I'm trying my best to make it less so,^" Solstice whispered. "^While I'm holding your reach, I want you to try extending another one. Just leave this one be where it is and go through this exercise again.^"

As straightforward as her mentor's instructions were, they were a solid contender for the single most confusing instruction Sue has had yet during her stay here. She had absolutely no idea how she could possibly 'let go' of her brain tentacle. It wasn't something she was guiding; it was a limb—the mental equivalent to a limb, at least. It was as if she was being asked to detach her physical arm or something.

Just have to let go of my injured leg and sprout another one to replace it. How difficult can that be?

...

...

No, I am not making that joke.

After forcibly shaking off any less-than-appropriate humor her brain tormented her with, Sue tried giving Solstice's instructions another go. They still felt impossible, but there must've just been something she wasn't seeing, some mental button she could slam her face on to let herself sprout another brain tentacle, simple as that.

What followed were several minutes of Sue shaking in her seat as she simultaneously tried to wrestle her physical Forest Guardian brain and her ephemeral human mind. She was barely capable of duking it out one-on-one with either, and taking on both left her squarely outmatched. A hearty bit of comedy for any mental onlookers that might've been nearby, but Sue herself only felt frustration creep on her.

These were basics; this was lesson three, and she already felt like she'd run into a concrete wall. A few more frustrated, aimless attempts resulted in the same results, the negative emotions filling the younger Forest Guardian's head soon stark enough for Solstice to intervene again. "^Sue? What's wrong, did something happen?^"

"It's—I can't. I just can't figure this out, I'm sorry," Sue admitted, defeated.

"^Don't be sorry Sue, you've done nothing wrong. Is there anything in particular that's giving you trouble?^"

"Letting go of that—that mental reach. How do you do that?"

"^Hmm... in my case, I remember helping myself with that by lightly yanking my head back when I was little,^" Solstice reminisced. "^Nowadays, it happens so fluidly I'm unsure how to explain it with words. I can try to show you how it feels, if you'd like?^"

Sue shuddered. "I-I don't know. It's more than that, it's like a limb, and I have no idea how to let go of a limb."

"^The 'limb' association is very helpful at the start, but you've just run into one of its many limitations. Our links can be moved independently like limbs, but they can also be severed, detached, or let go of.^"

"R-right, but I don't know how to shake that association off myself," Sue kept trying to explain, growing disheartened. "It's not just an unfortunate description, it's really how they feel to me."

"^I see... One more piece of advice I have is to try thinking of these not as your mind directly, but as something your mind steers; but I know that's not very useful for you right now. Lemme think about it...^"

As Solstice went back to preparing breakfast stew and study materials for her pupil simultaneously, Sue strained her brain in trying to accomplish just a single task. Several further attempts at multiple psychic tentacles went nowhere—at a certain point, she couldn't even get to where she'd make the magic happen, with even trying to focus away from her currently extended reach making it recede immediately.

This Duckdamned brain, I swear...

The analogy her mentor left her with sounded like it could be useful, but Sue wasn't convinced. She was certain she'd run into the same issue again, and almost didn't even bother trying at all. The frustration-fueled inaction didn't endure more than a few seconds, thankfully, not as her thoughts threatened to veer towards thinking of herself as a petulant child. Sue had no idea whether that counted as self-intimidation or not, but was glad it worked all the same.

With that murk shelved for the time being, she had little else left to try but to try taking Solstice's advice literally, to think of her brain tentacles not as her limbs, but something one step further down in the analogy, something they merely steered. Her first attempt to implement that vague guidance ended almost as soon as it had begun, accomplishing nothing—

Because she got another idea, one she was much more keen on trying.

The burst of motivation that revelation provided was enough to even distract Comet out of his play for a moment. Happy squeaks became focused silence as he listened in, only to return to giggles once Joy's peek-a-boo snagged his attention right back.

As the little ones enjoyed each other's presence, Sue was busy reaching out a mental tentacle as far out as she felt capable of. This time, though, she didn't keep herself to just using her mind, assisting herself with her hand. With that all-natural mental tool, her psychics floated fluidly around the room, enough so to leave Solstice impressed—and confused considering how unrelated this was to the exercise at hand.

Sue didn't notice either emotion, not with how much of her brain power was focused on wriggling her brain around and on her physical arm as she did so. She kept it clenched through that entire process, as if gripping the handle of her crutch. And then, once she reached as far out as she felt capable of, she let go of the handle and pulled her hand back.

And her mental reach stayed there.

It wasn't immobile, beginning to slowly retract right away, but it broadly remained where it was without her having to focus on it any more! Sue immediately followed it out with the next step, gripping a different pocket of air with the same arm and moving it around in much the same way. And… it worked. For a few seconds, she felt double the squirmy, indescribable sensations that accompanied these mental limbs; she was near sure both of them were out at the same time—

"^Oh—you did it!^" Solstice perked up, surprised.

I FUCKING DID IT!

"^Language please, Comet is around~.^"

Right, sorry.

The gentle chiding interrupted Sue out of her excited pop-off, replacing it with amused laughter for both Forest Guardians. "^Well done, Sue! What made it make sense?^" her mentor asked, beaming with pride.

"I tried applying what you said, a-and what did the trick was using my arms as something I steered these links with, n-not as the actual links, kinda like how I used a crutch for a while! Is that similar to what you had in mind?"

"^Huh...^" Solstice hummed, her genuine confusion taking Sue aback, enough so to make her recede from her focused state.

Once more, eyes stung once she opened them, but she was getting used to that, too. Before her, the pot in the tent's center was now halfway full of water, with a good chunk of chopped-up ingredients already added. Not all, though, with several herbs and chunks of the anomalous spiked tomato still waiting for their turn.

Reentering her body also clued her onto the pulsating aching emanating from her horn—much, much less of it than she thought she would have by now. It wasn't anything pleasant, nowhere near, but it was bearable. She still hoped that the wound would heal soon, though.

"^I think I have an idea of what might be going on?^" Solstice spoke up, uncertain. "^Suppose your arms are so tied to the concepts of control that you subconsciously envision all action as being done by your arms?^"

That was a much more abstract spin on the entire thing than Sue expected, and figuring out an answer took her a moment. Once she got there, though, it was just as self-evident as the last time the Mayor asked her a question about how humans thought of their hands—"Y-yeah, that tracks. I'd say that 'moving' is associated with legs and feet, but almost everything else is with hands."

"^That's fascinating. I was aware of how much your previous kin relies on hands, but this goes even further than that. Beyond how your brains are laid out, and into how you conceptualize these fundamental ideas...^"

Sue had no idea how to respond to that, and neither was Solstice expecting her to, chuckling quietly instead. "^Anywho~. Not done with breakfast yet, so you've got some time to practice! Do you want me to help?^"

"If it's—"

"^Of course it's alright, Sue. I'm gonna do what I did earlier and hold your reach in place when you reach it out far enough, okay?^"

With a nod, Sue went for it, jumping right back into her practice. It took a few solid tries for the slightly different role of her arms to sink in, but once it did, it was even easier to control her brain tentacles than it had been earlier. In a repeat of her very first exercise, she reached over to Solstice, got her reach grabbed, and started extending another one, to the side of the first one.

Harder than the one time she managed it earlier—the sensation emanating from her gripped tentacle made it hard to focus—but still very possible. She grinned with her eyes closed, grasping the invisible handle and extending her second mental limb as far as it'd go.

And then, Solstice gripped this one too, and focusing got even harder. "^It's tricky, I know~. Further down the line, I can go over how to deflect these interruptions, but for now just keep trying to push past them.^"

Sue didn't quite manage to extend the third tentacle out after all, her mentor eventually letting the first two go. The only way forward was practice, and she didn't waste a moment before immediately trying again—and again, and again, and again. Each attempt desensitized her to the slimy sensations more and more, each effort of extending a new mental reach made that barely coherent task easier.

Creating a third extension of her mind was still tricky, but doable after just a few solid tries. Going a step forward to attempt the fourth felt like walking into a brick wall. She couldn't, she just couldn't; there was no way for her to split her attention this many times. She didn't want to admit defeat, trying futilely a few more times, but her unfortunate observation was confirmed each time.

Guess that's as far as I can push it for now.

Solstice was more than satisfied with that. "^Alright! I'm gonna stop holding them now, and it'll be up to you to keep them all out,^"

The modified exercise turned out to be simultaneously easier and harder than the previous version. Without the constant bombardment of some very unpleasant sensations, Sue found it much more feasible to go for the fourth mental reach, but her attempts only made all the previous ones want to retract even more.

"^Focus on keeping them all out, Sue.^"

"I-I'm trying..." Sue grunted. Wrestling with her brain to keep the wacky figments of her imagination exactly where she wanted them to be was... tricky, and yet somehow not impossible. If she just prodded the correct bits of the gray goo between her ear spikes, she could stop the tentacles from retracting for a decent amount of time. It was something, but not truly keeping them all out at the same time.

Consciously switching which one she was controlling every few moments helped, but came with its own drawbacks.

It limited her to consciously moving a single reach at a time, and switching itself took a decent bit of effort—at least at the start—but each repetition of that boring task made it easier and easier, her mental model of it all changing over time to match. Instead of having to withdraw her hand all the way back to grasp an entirely different handle, it now felt more like... wearing a sweater with a sleeve that split into two at the elbow, and switching between these sub-sleeves.

...

I really hope I never have to verbally explain this stuff to anyone.

As Sue practiced, these figurative 'sub-sleeves' split further and further along. After a few dozen tries, she only had to flick her wrist back to switch the tentacle, after a few dozen more, she just needed to move her hand as if swiping something off to the side. Much of it wouldn't last for long, she was well aware. Muscle memory was one thing, but this was way too little for that to truly set in. It made for a great target for the next time she sat down and went through this entire mind-melting workout—

*clap!*

The sudden sound derailed all that remained of Sue's train of thought of focus, bringing her back towards full awareness. "^Dealing with distractions will also be something you'll have to practice!^" Solstice laughed softly. "^But that's something we can tackle later.^ Breakfast's ready!"

Sue blinked through her startle as she took the surrounding scene in, attention soon jumping over to the little ones. Joy seemed to be the mediator between Comet and Twinkle, with her and the Moon Child both holding small straw dolls. They didn't depict anyone in specific, but that didn't stop their play, as unstructured as it was. The lil' ghost was still rather overwhelmed by Comet, but not cripplingly so anymore. It would take a while for them to get used to each other, no doubt, but they had time.

They had time, and they had Sue.

Solstice's call had Twinkle look first at her, and then at their guardian. Once they spotted the latter being aware again, they scrambled over, catching Joy's attention as well. Thankfully, the Mayor's words barely elicited any reaction in the toothy girl anymore, as scared as she was of them just a few days ago. It was something worth asking about, but not necessarily postponing breakfast for—

"What are you doing, Sue?" Solstice asked, beckoning her over. "Come, come, sit down with us."

Sue wasn't sure how she expected breakfast stew to be eaten, but 'on the floor' wasn't an answer she had considered. Suppose it wasn't quite sitting on dirt with the rudimentary rugs that lined it, but these had to be uncomfortably dirty, right?

...

Wrong, apparently. Sure, they weren't the peak of pleasantness, but nowhere near as bad as Sue wondered they'd be.

Guess these tiny feet don't bring all that much dirt with themselves.

"Indeed~," the other Forest Guardian giggled.

The meal—now that Sue focused on it as opposed to passively taking in the scent while thrashing her brains around—smelled delightful. Looks were less stellar, but that was about what was expected from a stew. Hell, if anything, it was closer to a thick soup than what she'd recognize as a stew back on Earth, especially without any meat.

*sip*

...

Sue had no idea which of the ingredients she saw earlier had suddenly jumped several orders of magnitude up the Scoville scale, but at least one of them must have done it, because good Duck was this hot. Not unbearably so—her tongue was much too delighted by all the sweet caramelized onion and overall saltiness to complain—but noticeably. If not for her seeing Joy and Comet down their portions with no less delight than she had, the latter with the Mayor's help, she wouldn't have believed they could even eat it.

While everyone corporeal went through their bowls and Solstice tried to reason through what did Sue mean by 'meat' in her thoughts, Twinkle felt left out. They weren't hungry; they didn't even remember what hunger felt like, but this still smelled nice. They wanted some, too. It couldn't be hard, right? Just had to wait for Joy to put her spoon down, and use it, and then pour some into their—ACK!

Their loud squeak caught the group's attention, letting them see the fresh stain on the ghost's outfit, with only a few droplets having reached the void kept within.

"Twinkle, what—oh my, you wanted to taste some too, right?" Sue asked, taken aback. With another squeak, the ghost dashed over to her, holding her tight and whimpering quietly. Not in pain, but this was still uncomfortable, leaving the little one shuddering against their guardian. It was hot; it was wet; it was irritating, and they messed up. They weren't quite at the level of tears yet, but... they were close.

The perfect level for some closer affection. "It's okay, it's okay," Sue whispered, petting the clean part of their disguise. "Goodness, you really need a replacement bag, don't you?" Twinkle answered with a few mumbled, panicky squeaks, their volume lowering with each pet.

"I think Sundance would love to help with something like that. Right up her handiwork alley," Solstice suggested.

Sue nodded, liking that idea the more she chewed on it. They'd get to check on the vixen, they'd make something nicer for Twinkle, she'd get to spend time with both the little ones under her care—hopefully. "How does that sound, Twinkle? A prettier outfit for you, and maybe you could even tell us what you want to wear?"

By then, the hauntling had calmed down enough to process the idea, and... they liked it. They liked it so much they soon grew impatient for it, especially with their current costume having gotten rather uncomfortable.

Let's see if we can clean this thing up…


Turns out it was easier to find something new for Twinkle to change into than to clean their costume with them inside it.

Sue was almost certain that their new outfit used to be a pillowcase at some point, before... not being needed anymore, and getting stashed away for a few years. Regardless of what it once was, though, now it was only a source of comfort for the lil' ghost.

With Twinkle helped and breakfast eaten, the impromptu party headed out, destination: Sundance's house. Comet snuggled drowsily in Solstice's arms; Twinkle was wrapped around their guardian again, and Joy walked beside them both. As much as both she and Sue wanted her to be carried, the younger Forest Guardian's leg disagreed with that desire, especially after being put through extra strain a few hours earlier.

Cast or not, I just can't learn, can I?

Thankfully, the toothy one didn't mind a whole lot. She made sure to give Sue some space off to the side; the gesture appreciated dearly. When they were wrapping the breakfast up, Sue put her curiosity about the metal girl's fear of her two mentors to words. Solstice's translation was a Duck-send, helping convey the nuance without leaving Joy feeling alarmed or put on the spot.

As it turned out, two grownups summoning lights and fire while speaking loudly to a village-size crowd was the kind of sight that left an impact on everyone, intended or not. Sue sure didn't expect to share the 'got scared by Solstice during her and Sundance's speech after getting back from their trip' trait with Joy, but this wacky world—yet again—turned out to be weirder than fiction.

If she had the reach to lean in and hug the toothy girl, she would have done so without hesitation.

Instead, they both savored the late morning in their own ways as they marched on, one step at a time. Some steps were smaller, some larger, some even limped and needed others to wait for them—but it was alright. For the first time in too long, they didn't have to rush.

Unfortunately, the quaint walk wouldn't remain such forever.

Having to walk past the raised platform the Elders sat on last night sent shudders through Sue's spike. She didn't want to think about how close Moonview got to a point of no return, to that assault on Newmoon happening because of Root's sheer genocidal insistence. A part of her hoped it wouldn't have happened even without her intervention, that eventually his fury or others' motivation would burn out, but... she didn't know.

Thanks to her actions, she didn't have to know either, the thought bringing her some not-unearned pride—hold on.

Right as their group was turning a corner away from the scene, something small caught Sue's attention. She was deaf to Joy's confused squeaks, walking closer to make out just what the bright item was. It almost looked like it was levitating, and—

No, it wasn't levitating. It was stuck in a tree.

She only got a brief glimpse of Juniper's arrows, both before the owl's attempt at Solstice's life and after, but for better or worse, the sight was forever burned into her memory. This one had struck a tree with enough force to embed the entire arrow head into the wood, leaving just the orange fletching visible. It wasn't here before, it couldn't have been here before, others would've called it out, but what did it—wait.

Who sat there?

As unforgettable as yesterday's events were, recalling such an unimportant detail proved harder than Sue expected. A part of her didn't even want to bother; there was no way in hell it wasn't Solstice, but Sue could've sworn she sat at the other side. And if not for her, then...

...

Root.

Before the realization of the second worst person around having redirected her vendetta over to the first worst person around could sink in, Sue's focus was snapped away by a loud, ethereal whistle. Familiar, but not enough to do more than jog her memory.

And that held true for the being that had used it to catch her attention, too. "Ahahaha~! Can't believe I found you before ssshe did~," the ghostly voice spoke, with both their pumpkin-shaped bottom half and thinner, orange-haired top half laughing at the realization, leaving everyone else just confused.

Sue was too stunned by her earlier revelation to react right away—something that Solstice wasn't burdened by. "What do you mean, Soot?"

"Oohhh, Lillssss wrapped up her load for today, she ran riiiight off and hasssss been looking for you~!" the now-named Soot teased.

Beyond unleashing an entire flock of non-mutated butterflies straight into Sue's stomach, the ghostly pumpkin's claim got her quite curious. "W-was she really that excited?" she asked, trying to hide her own curiosity.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

She neither expected to be laughed at today, nor have said laughter result in such an intense fluster on her end.

"Of coursssse she wasss, hasss been for daysss~. Goodnesss, I remember when we firsssst got a glimpssse of you, when you sssat at the clearing with Poppy. She just wouldn't sssstop~! 'Aaaah, she's so cute', 'Aaaah, she saved Sparkie', 'Aaaah who even am I in comparison', you know, sssssilly things. Had to shove her a few timessss just to get her to act~!" Soot kept giggling. If Sue got embarrassed even a single iota more, she would've caught on fire there and then. "And dare I ssssay it'ssss worked out—ohhhh, ahahahah! Oh my my my, you're blushing harder than even Lillsssss~. Made for each other, you two~."

Sue didn't get spared from either Soot's or her companion's resulting laughter. Even Joy chimed in despite her limited understanding, falsifying Sue's earlier hypothesis—she could get even more embarrassed, and was persistently not catching on fire.

Even if a part of her really wanted to.

"Hope she runssss into you sssssooon~. Curioussss ghost on your chest, by the by~," Soot waved them off.

As they headed away and Sue recovered from her flustered overdose, the ghostly pumpkin's parting remark caught her attention. They realized Twinkle was a ghost, and they sounded quite ghostly themselves. Ditto with Hazel yesterday, who Sue knew was a 'ghost', ridiculous categorization as it was. Could ghosts sense other ghosts? Was Soot a ghost? Whichever 'typing' represented affinity for plants seemed to be a given, but 'ghost' felt rather far-fetched.

Now I wonder who else has been a ghost all along without me realizing.

The amusing thought didn't last very long, though. The follow-up realization of 'if they're a ghost, that means they might've died and come back as a ghost' steered Sue into just feeling sorry, unsure whether that was the case for Soot or not. To the best of her knowledge, it was the case with Twinkle. They sure wouldn't be getting away without some extra affection of their own—

!​

Sue felt the sudden shift in the air hit her like a slap in the face; calm immediately replaced with an alarm that wasn't even her own. She looked at Solstice out of reflex, her expression aghast. Before she could speak up, the Mayor passed Comet into her arms; her accompanying words as insistent as they were brief. "^Sue, go to Sundance's house now. Don't wait for me, I'll be there soon.^"

Without a moment of elaboration more, the older Forest Guardian turned around and headed out, her march as fast as it was possible for it to be short of breaking into running. This wasn't despair, this was something else, something even more worrisome.

Fear.

Sue was torn almost exactly evenly between obeying Solstice's request and following her to see what the hell had just happened. The latter impulse lasted just long enough to make her turn the nearby corner—and then, she saw them.

A Forest Guardian in the distance, at the other end of the plaza they were at the edge of, the plaza Willow and flower medic were teaching at in that very moment. At first, it didn't look like they had noticed their group—only for them to turn around to face her in the time it took Sue to blink.

On their body, tattoos like Solstice's. A different, more angular pattern.

In their mind, perfect calmness, standing out despite the distance.

At the other end of their gaze, Solstice.

They only spared Sue the briefest of glimpses—enough to send a jolt of freezing fear through her spine and spike. It made Solstice glance at her for just a moment, scared for her, before turning back to the stranger and speaking up with the loudest, most forceful delivery Sue had seen her speak with yet.

"^You are not welcome here, Solanum.^"​

In return, laughter. Cold, mocking. Sue felt a mind far more powerful than her forcibly link with her, the sensation harsh enough to stagger her. And then; the stranger spoke.

"^I wouldn't have thought you would grow even more insolent towards your mother... Snowmoon.^"



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 27: Snowmoon



"^I wouldn't have thought you would grow even more insolent towards your mother... Snowmoon.^"

Despite standing a few feet away, Sue felt Solstice shudder at the stranger's words, adding even more confusion to her increasingly terrified mind. The Mayor's reaction didn't settle there, though, overcoming fear and blossoming into fierce determination, underlined with cold resentment. If nothing else, it let Sue know her mentor had things under control.

Unfortunately, the younger Forest Guardian's certainty didn't extend to the little ones around her.

Comet couldn't resist contracting the surrounding fear, absorbing emotions like a sponge until they filled his tiny body to the point of tears. He didn't cry, instead only following Twinkle's steps and clinging even closer to their guardian. Behind Sue, Joy wasn't as terrified, but she more than made up for that in restless anxiety. She took a moment to remember which of her tall friend's legs had been injured recently before clinging to the other one, only braving brief glimpses at the stranger from behind her dress.

"^Leave, Solanum, and take your hatred elsewhere!^" Solstice boomed, trying to keep the children out of the conversation. Sue wasn't sure why she'd responded to a different name or who said 'Solanum' was, but whatever the exact relationship between the two Forest Guardians was, it was drenched in grudges and misery, intense enough to turn onlookers' heads.

To the regret of everyone who recognized her, Solanum only scoffed at the Mayor's words. "^Your delusional fantasies might have already swallowed you whole, Snowmoon, but I will not let my grandson be bathed in the same heresy that had claimed Aurora—^"

It was only then that she had properly noticed the third Forest Guardian on the scene, and everyone's hearts skipped a beat.

Freezing fear gripped Sue's body as Solanum's gaze drilled into her. The dispassionate mockery in the other Forest Guardian's expression first turned into genuine shock, and then gradual anger as she put the pieces together. Before the once-human could even react, she felt her mind be forcefully pried open as if it were a tin can, its contents spilling out to anyone who bothered looking. Her thoughts, desires, fears, and secrets, taken by force and examined by a hateful eye to the backdrop of Comet's alarmed cries, the sensation painful and overwhelming enough to almost make Sue collapse there and then—

Only to feel Solstice's mental grip embrace her as it cut the mental assault off, leaving her lightheaded and unsure of what the hateful intruder had seen. Whatever it was, though, it only made Solanum scoff harder. "^No, not her...^" she whispered, her words cutting into Sue's and Solstice's psyches alike. "^A stray mutt, bereft of the Pale Lady's blessings, yet wearing our symbols on her flesh.^"

The words were enough to compel the Mayor to take another step forward, her voice equal parts biting and trying to hide a building panic. "^She has no part in this, Solanum.^"

"^And yet, she is holding my family in her arms,^" Solanum muttered in return, eyes narrowing on Sue. "^You being a fool does not surprise me, Snowmoon, but to let someone like this look after your offspring... You have already learned the consequences of opposing the Pale Lady's will once, and yet you can't resist begging for it to happen again.^"

Solstice's buttons were thoroughly pressed, burning her cold resentment into an ever more intense, yet constantly silent anger. Her arms clenched, her body shook, her soul grappled with itself to hide her greatest insecurities from being struck so offhandedly once more. Sue could only keep inching backwards, only pushing past her 'freeze' reaction one tiny step at a time. As her body barely made any progress, her mind couldn't help but wonder—was Solanum really insinuating what Sue thought she was?

Was she threatening Solstice and Moonview as a whole with the plague?

The Mayor wasn't deaf to Sue's rumination; hearing her own fears being stated so plainly undermined her confidence. And yet, she persevered—this wasn't her first time dealing with this particular unwelcome guest. Before she could mount a response or Sue's panicky mind could force her legs to run, though, they and all onlookers saw someone turn the corner from behind Solanum. Someone whose appearance the younger Forest Guardian most definitely did not recognize.

Their humanoid build was much bulkier than her own or Sundance's, without crossing into Willow's kind of chubby. They were the most human-like out of any locals Sue had seen yet, but the general build was mostly where the similarities ended. Their short coat was vibrant yellow, gleaming in the sunlight and making it rather difficult to look at them. A thick white mane surrounded their neck, looking as plush as it did feral—and so did the pointed, triangular ears. Tiny eyes and massive nose completed what Sue could make of their head, making them look old, especially in tandem with a slightly hunched posture.

A brief glint of something metallic wrapped around their arm snagged Sue's attention and wouldn't let go. At least, not until she noticed the yellow stranger's attention being similarly enraptured with her, if briefly. They physically reeled back at the sight, only regaining composure after Solanum glanced at them from the corner of her eye and shook her head.

Solstice speaking up once more cut off any further examination of the newcomer. "^If you think I will let your fanaticism hurt anyone here again, Solanum, you are sorely mistaken.^" She then turned to face the newcomer as they took a stand beside Solanum. Her expression and mind alike jumped haphazardly between regret, sadness, and hope, before once more returning to her anger-hardened determination.

Hardened further mere moments later.

"^Snowmoon, dear,^" the newcomer psychically spoke, his voice soft and weathered, "^you have maintained this insane facade for so very long. Does your heart not ache to return home? To atone for your transgressions before the Pale Lady, to restore your honor in her eyes?^"

Home?

It was only then that all the pieces fell into place for Sue, leaving her gasping quietly under her breath as her mentor flinched. Flinched, and narrowed her eyes at the yellow psychic, her mental voice sharpened by hurt. "^I am home, Luneth. And you are trespassing.^"

The words were what the onlookers needed to turn lively, either approaching the newcomers or backing off from the scene entirely. It was enough for Solstice to drop her fierce mask for but an instant, to finally address Sue once more—and hurry her away. "^Sue, to Sundance's den, please.^"

To their shared relief, the nudge was just what the younger Forest Guardian needed. She backed off a step, and another, before finally breaking into the fastest jog she could manage with full arms and an even fuller mind, stumbling through the side streets while Joy dashed behind her, crying out as she tried to keep up. The words exchanged moments prior echoed through her mind, growing ever more deafening with each repetition, bringing forth not just idle disagreements but active threats if she'd understood them right.

Have they really threatened us all? Is this a prelude to an all-out attack?

Any worries Sue once had about the Forest Guardians' destructive capabilities came back in full force, the effortlessness with which Solanum had forced her way into her thoughts nauseating in hindsight. Sue was used to Solstice and Sundance overhearing bits and pieces of what was going on in there now and again, but this was different; this was malicious, almost intense enough to leave her on the ground—and it wasn't even anything physical! Solstice could lift her entire body up with ease; who says that someone stronger than that couldn't tear her apart with sheer force on a whim? Or scorch her with the fire magic her mentor had shown bits of in the past, or kill her in any other of the uncountable ways this terrible world was capable of—

"S-Sue!" a dry, shrill scream rang out from behind her, stopping her mid-step.

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned around, watching as Joy finally caught up to her on the verge of tears, immediately clinging to her leg. She wanted to do something to comfort her, anything, but between her own fear and the urgency in Solstice's command, she wasn't sure what she even could do.

Pushing her already overworked mind further, she haphazardly linked it with the metal girl, whispering as she kept her voice as calm as she could. "I'm here Joy, I'm here. I'm sorry for running, but—but we need to keep moving. Sundance's house isn't far, and once we're there, we can rest, but now we need to walk some more, okay?" Worries swirled in her head, about what the little one would think of her, whether that remark would cause any further panic in itself and how she'd even deal with it if it had. But, for once, her worries were unfounded.

Joy nodded shakily as she let go of Sue's leg, fidgeting hands holding each other with her guardian's out of range. She was still scared, but Sue was clear—they had to keep going. "Thank you, Joy. I love you," Sue whispered, sharing relief with the little one in response to those three oh-so-important words.

As she picked herself up, she gently placed a hand on Twinkle's disguise to check how they were doing. They felt rattled and withdrawn, only daring to extend a single tiny tendril to hold her and pulling it back immediately once she took her touch away. Comet kept clinging tight to her shoulder, nervously looking around to try to spot the threat everyone else was so afraid of.

Motivated to get the little ones to safety, Sue looked skyward, scanning what she could make out of the neighboring skyline in search of the vixen's den. It wasn't in sight yet, but a few structures within sight of it were, and that's where Sue's attention was focused. Before long, she was walking steadily again, with Joy keeping up beside her and putting on the bravest expression she could manage in all her fear.

Her mind was about to return to its earlier pondering, to imagining everything terrible the strangers' arrival could foretell—but it wouldn't get to do that. Right as her heart began to calm down, it was kicked into a higher gear again as an obstacle appeared before her in time it took her to blink, right as she was about to turn the corner.

The dark green limb was shaped like an arc, with a point on one end and a distressingly familiar three fingered hand on the other. Whether its outer edge was sharp, Sue neither knew nor ever wanted to find out, especially with it sticking horizontally in the air at her neck level, the pointed end striking the nearby bricked wall hard enough to leave cracks.

And even more so with the rest of the person revealing themselves soon after.

Sue took a half step back as they followed their arm around the corner, their slow, nonchalant movements giving her the terrifying feeling they'd been waiting for her. They easily had a foot on her, and that didn't even include the gray protrusion at the top of their head—their Forest Guardian head. However used to her kin's red eyes Sue might've been, the stranger's glare rekindled all her earlier fears and more.

Neither their different, bulkier build, nor the different hue of their skin even registered in Sue's mind—their dimly glowing blue tattoos and crimson eyes captured her attention whole, filling her with more and more terror. Their focused expression turned into a sinister, gleeful smile as they took her in, leering at her as if she was a juicy piece of meat on display. Terrifying as that was, though, it soon turned into something else, something worse—disgust.

"^I have no idea who you are,^" they began, their low, gruff voice dripping with contempt, "^but you best have a reason to be touching my nephew.^" Their grimace only deepened as they examined her tattoo-less body, her discolored hair, the patterns carved into the pleats of her dress, her psychic ineptitude.

The Limb Eater behind her.

"^Especially with that filthy beast behind you.^"

Sue gasped as she suddenly felt her head be grasped strongly enough to leave her with a headache. The sound didn't even register to her, though, not with Joy's pained cry occupying every fiber of her being. She wanted to act, to do something except inch backwards away from the stranger, to repel the threat. But she couldn't.

She pried her eyes away from the encroaching threat for but a moment, trying to make sure the metal girl was okay—and found her grasping her front head with her tiny arms, tears running down her face as she shook in place; the dandelion once tied into her curl laying torn to shreds beside her.

A low, amused chuckle tore her eyes away from the little one—and brought her face to face with the tall stranger, now so close to her the tips of their red horns were almost touching. They—he—continued, expression shifting to grim amusement at seeing Sue's terror, "^Someone like you has no business touching a blessed child. The Pale Lady would be reviled to hear that.^"

Sue's and Joy's mental anguish continued as Comet cried out, inadvertently feeling his friends' pain. The stranger only shot him the briefest flash of disgust before he grew quiet, little body shaking as he clung to Sue. "^But, who knows, maybe there's hope for you if you just give him up and let me claim you, you filth,^" he threatened, despair blossoming in Sue's body in response. She could barely breathe at the nauseating undertones in his words, trying desperately to come up with words only to be unable to.

He slowly reached his hand towards her face, as if to cup her chin, "^So, what do you say? The Pale Lady always welcomes more offspring to bless—^"

*crACK!*

The sudden sound, paired with the stranger's gasp of pain, broke through Sue's stasis. She skittered back, half kneeling and half collapsing on the trodden path as she pulled Joy in close, the psychic headache finally fading for both of them. With Joy in her arms, Sue finally looked up to see what had happened—and saw Lilly reeling back her leg; the stranger's knee now twisted at an unnatural angle.

With a quick dash, the dancer slid in between Sue and her attacker, arms raised up in a guard as she whistled loudly. Her stance was steadfast, but even it began to shake once the stranger recovered from and processed her strike; earlier disgusting flirting replaced with seething fury. Sue saw Lilly slightly bow her head as it shook, almost as if it was being forcibly moved, her whistles not letting any pain through.

The stranger shouted, "^How DARE YOU lay a hand on the Pale Lady's chosen, you reta—^"

"^Nightbane.^"

Solstice's voice froze everyone on the scene as she walked past Sue, leaving the younger Forest Guardian and her friend sighing in relief. Sue wasn't sure if the earlier situation had grown even worse or if it was because of the now-named Nightbane, but her mentor's fierce resentment had become something else, molten into a raging fury so vibrant she was only barely stopping herself from lashing out with utmost force.

It might've been only barely, but Solstice was still stopping herself—and Nightbane knew that. "^Well well well, look who finally decided to greet her brother,^" he taunted, slowly talking backwards as he stared smugly at her. "^Perhaps I really shouldn't have expected any better than thrusting your own children to a pit for a Limb Eater to dine on! Maybe expecting anything from you, Snowmoon, was just me being foolish~.^"

"^Begone,^" the Mayor boomed, fierce enough to send chills through even Sue despite the words having been aimed away from her.

And Nightbane felt them too, his composed facade fading for a moment to reveal genuine worry—though it didn't last long. "^You'll regret this, Snowmoon~.^" Without skipping a beat, he backed off behind the corner he'd originally crept out of before breaking into a limping run, leaving everyone else staring in shock at the spot he'd been in moments before.

It was only after a minute or so, long after neither Sue nor Solstice could sense him anymore, did anyone dare to move again.

Lilly took the first step, turning on a heel and crouching beside Sue, pulling her and all the children she was trying to comfort into as gentle an embrace as she could. Solstice followed suit shortly after, shivering as she assessed the situation—and focused on Joy, the little one still whimpering quietly. She gave the metal girl space, sitting down beside Sue before slowly reaching a hand towards Joy as her psychics carefully pulled Comet out of Sue's hold. With her child in her arms, she properly linked everyone gathered, including one little one off to the side that was only now catching up with her big sister, and focused to soothe any pains they all might've been feeling.

Joy panted deeply as the last of her psychic headache was dispelled. She clung to Sue, confused and scared. Twinkle also felt better, but that was more so because of all the chaos and noises finally easing out, letting them finally dare reach out a single tendril and wrap it around as much of Sue and Joy as they could manage. Comet received the tightest hug Solstice was capable of; any of Nightbane's stray mental influence washing off into quiet tears as wordless reassurance flowed freely from his mom.

For a few moments, the scene remained quiet, passersby aside, with Lilly and Solstice waiting until they were sure Sue and the little ones were alright. It was the younger Forest Guardian that finally broke that silence, tears streaking down her face as she held Joy tight, whispering, "Y-you're beautiful, Joy, y-you're not a—not filth, I-I promise..."

Sue wanted to scream at what she'd just been subjected to, at the unspeakable fear that she was about to become a statistic—but Joy took priority, now and always. The little one took her time calming down, with each repetition of her guardian's words, each gentle touch undoing a little bit of her earlier terror. Alas, she would never be granted full release from it; she would never be allowed to forget this—but at least this way it wouldn't haunt her every night for months at a time.

At least, so Sue hoped.

She wanted to do more, to promise Joy that nobody would hurt her as long as she was around—but she couldn't. After all, she had already lied like that to her at least once. Reality just stepped in and proved how little she could really do to stop harm from coming to those she loved; why would she lie like that again?

She didn't look up as she felt someone else join their little huddled group, their aura not entirely alien to her, but hardly one she knew well. It was only when the tiny newcomer whistled, "What happened?" did she finally look up at them—at her, recognizing the little plant bud child from around the place.

Didn't realize how similar she and Lilly look, at least face-wise.

Petal's question helped break the shell-shocked stasis the group was in as Lilly took her into her arms, shaking her head. "Not know, Petal. Bad person, mean and want attack Sue—and know Solstice," Lilly realized, perking up as she looked at the Mayor. Emotions stirred in her at the realization, everything from anger at Sue and the little ones having been mistreated like that, to despair at her having only barely managed to do anything, to fear at it all possibly happening again.

Lilly needed answers, and Solstice had them. "Who that was, Solstice!?" she asked, raising her voice more than intended and regretting it immediately afterwards.

The Mayor flinched at the hostile—but not wholly unearned—tone. She didn't want to talk about this; she didn't even want to think about any of what had just happened—but Lilly deserved to know. Sue deserved to know, to be aware of just how rotten the tree that had borne her mentor was. "That," Solstice began, out of breath, "...that was my family. My mother and father earlier at the clearing, and—and now, my b-brother," she explained, only barely keeping herself from letting fury consume her again.

The leafy dancer and child both gasped in unison at the revelation, Joy whimpered quietly, and Sue... softly nodded. The pieces haven't been exactly difficult to piece together, even if it took her mentor's clarification to fill in some of the remaining holes. In hindsight, with what Solstice and Sundance had told her, she wasn't surprised for them to have acted the way they had—at least, not on a detached, logical level.

On an emotional level, on a level where she had a hard time imagining how people like that existed despite rationally knowing they did, she was shrieking in confused pain. Not wanting to dwell on either that or her own powerlessness, she forcibly shook her head, redirecting her thoughts to a more productive territory. "Wh-why was he—why were they here?" Sue asked, her warbling voice making both Lilly and Solstice slide closer.

To their shared chagrin, her mentor didn't have anywhere near as much an answer as she wanted to. "I don't know what or who compelled them to show up right now, with everything else going on, but it seems they want the same thing as always," she explained, wincing at recalling their previous visits. "They've been trying to pressure me to come back to my tribe, or to at least 'give back' my children for as long as I've been here."

That much made sense with what Sue had seen so far, but one part of Solstice's explanation stood out to her, immediately inviting further worry. "W-wait, they've been here before?" she asked, aghast.

Solstice silently nodded. "Yes. I've lost count of how many times they have taunted me like this, how many times they've shown up demanding I give in to their ways. Has to be close to a dozen by now. I thought that after they showed up last time, a few months after—after the plague struck, they would finally decide to leave me alone. But... they seemed to be aware of Comet. I've no idea who or what clued them in, but if I get my hands on them, I'll—no, no, I—I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she lied.

It was Sue's turn to administer much-needed comfort. She laid her free hand on her mentor's shoulder, giving her as confident a smile as she could manage. "I-I'd say your anger is more than understandable, Solstice."

"Lilly always told me to be open with feelings!" Petal added, her words sounding like an even higher-pitched version of Lilly.

"Very, yes!" Lilly assured.

The Mayor slowly nodded as she took the reassurance in, culminating with a weak sigh. She wanted to be better than this, to not descend to her family's level, but that was always easier said than done. "I suppose," she offhandedly replied, changing the subject. "At least one comfort in all this is that they've never accomplished anything more than sowing doubt here and there. I doubt that'll change, especially after what you've accomplished yesterday, Sue, but I'm... I'm still a bit worried."

Warmth filled Sue at her mentor's comment; the resulting moment of brief bliss transferred to the little ones in her arms with as gentle a touch as she could manage. To be commended on something like that felt good on its own, to have Solstice do that felt—

No. Not the time for that.

"No worry here!" Lilly beamed, scooting up to Sue with Petal in her arms. "They rude and mean, listen nobody."

"I'd like to think that, yes..." Solstice sighed. She opened her mouth, about to continue to finish the thought, before stopping herself and taking a deep breath. Lilly was right—they wouldn't be eliciting any sympathy this time, and a much better choice of action than worrying about 'what ifs' was to ensure that fact with their actions. "You're right, Lilly. Many in Moonview have already seen and had the displeasure of interacting with them in the past, and for those that haven't... I suppose talking to people and giving them a heads-up about my family would help ensure their rhetoric won't get its hooks in people."

The dancer nodded with her entire body. "Like that I," she exclaimed, about to stand up and get to spreading the word before remembering she had a Forest Guardian to comfort. Sue was still clearly rattled after what she'd been through, and Lilly was not under any illusion that a few moments of physical comfort would be enough to wash it all out of her mind, but she still wanted to do what she could, here and for everyone else.

Sue, meanwhile... deeply appreciated Lilly's presence. She leaned on her more and more by the minute, hoping she wouldn't notice. Even beyond Solstice's motherly protection, Lilly's willingness to protect her even while putting herself in danger was comforting. It was something Sue had no wishes of ever being put to the test again, but seeing it be backed with action only blossomed more feelings towards the leafy farmhand inside her.

Lilly did notice Sue leaning on her—basically right away, even—but knew better than to do anything but silently smile at that.

As they all finished getting a grip on themselves, a chirped voice from nearby picked up the discussion. "By Night Mother's feathers, you can count on me too, ma'am Solstice! If that bunch ever try laying a hand on a child again, stars be my witness that mere glaring will be the last thing on my mind!"

Sue might not have recognized the speaker by ear even remotely, but the moment she looked up at the nearby roof, her eyes immediately filled in the villager's identity. The blue cloud bird wasn't someone she had any particular feelings about before yesterday, but after seeing the way they—she looked at her at the playground, she wasn't sure whether she was capable of anything better than slight animosity towards them.

Still, the bird clearly stood by what she'd said, even after noticing Sue and awkwardly looking away from her afterwards, an apologetic expression struggling to find the right words. Solstice noticed the weird atmosphere between Sue and the caretaker, but shook it aside, choosing to thank her instead. "Thank you, Cirrus," she weakly smiled.

"Not a problem, ma'am Solstice! After what that brute had done to poor Joy, my wings are positively itching to dispense a dragon's justice!" Cirrus sang.

As Sue wracked her head, trying to figure out which between the lanky blue bird and a small mobile cloud had anything to do with dragons, her mentor let out a faint chuckle. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I strongly doubt it'll ever be needed. For all their threats, intimidation, and combat prowess, they're much too cowardly to ever openly fight with how badly outnumbered they'd be."

The gathered adults nodded more or less in unison. Sue was the most hesitant, noticing the unspoken 'but' in Solstice's words—a 'but' that then grew in intensity in her mind, bringing with itself fear, and a lot of it. She scooted closer to the Mayor, wanting to reassure her that her logic checked out and that her family was unlikely to take the entirety of Moonview on. And then; she stopped—something was off. This wasn't that kind of fear; this was something deeper, more visceral, less of a conscious worry, and more of a flashback.

Solstice shook as she looked Sue and Lilly straight in the eye, her telepathic voice wavering. "^Wh-whatever you do, do not let Nightbane c-corner you alone. Scream, thrash, fight—don't let him.^"

Of the two, only Sue knew what her mentor might've been implying, blood draining from her face. She wanted to speak up, ask Solstice if she was alright—but her mentor spoke up first, forcibly washing the traumatic subject from her mind as she addressed Cirrus again. "S-still, thank you, Cirrus. I-If possible, talking to people you know and trust would be preferable, just letting them know what—what Nightbane and the rest of my family had done." Without skipping a beat, she then took a deep breath and stood up, gradually calming down as she instructed, "^Let's get going. I doubt sitting here will do us any good, especially since there's an outfit for Twinkle to be made. Eh, Sue?^"

Sue was almost dizzy from following her mentor's turbulent emotions, trying to focus on her suggestion instead. After Nightbane's actions, she didn't want to let go of Joy for preferably the next forever, and neither did the girl want to let go of her with how tired she now was, but her weight, combined with her guardian's weakness, made getting up something of a challenge.

A challenge that Lilly helped them with without skipping a beat, lifting Sue onto her legs before she could even think to ask her. Fluster was the last thing Sue expected to be feeling after what had just happened, but she couldn't deny appreciating that emotional distraction. "Th-thank you, Lilly," she giggled quietly, to the dancer's delight.

"Welcome, you!"

As they got going, an idea struck Sue, one just a few moments too late. She had neither the physical reach nor the mental dexterity to pull it off at the moment, not with both her hands occupied by the metal girl. The older Forest Guardian didn't skip a beat before giving her a psychic hand, swiftly unwrapping the dandelion from her hair before tying it into Joy's, replacing the torn flower. Joy didn't outwardly react to the gesture, and Sue considered asking her to thank Solstice for that, but this wasn't the time for that.

Still—thanks, Solstice.

To Sue's relief and chagrin alike, she wasn't the only one worried about the girl in her arms. Now that the earlier tension had eased out, Twinkle dared reaching out from their hiding spot once more—and extended their affection towards Joy, an inky tentacle gently holding her leg.

With the air temporarily cleared, keeping it free from earlier tension was paramount—and for that, they needed a distraction. "Lilly," Sue spoke up, the leafy dancer slinking up to her side before she could finish taking a breath, "is Petal your sister, or...?"

"Sister, yes!" Petal squeaked, sending Lilly into whistling giggles.

"Are you two from around here?" Sue continued. She wasn't sure which of the answers she was expecting more, but between asking about the place her friend had come from and asking about who in the village she was related to, either answer would've provided more than enough to talk about.

To her surprise, Lilly took a moment to think through her words, the plant bud in her arms looking up at her expectantly. "From far, think I. Not all sure."

That... wasn't an answer Sue was expecting, a tingling in the back of her head making her follow that thread. "Well, what was that place like?"

"Oh, it was a big mountain field!" Petal cut in, her big sister twirling as they both thought back to what they once called home. "Very big and calm, a-and there were many of our kin there! Really safe."

"That sounds quite idyllic," Sue muttered, keeping her reactions low-key enough to not give any hints towards her own secrets. "In that case, why'd you come over here—i-if that's alright for me to ask, of course, you don't have to—"

"Worry not, Sue, can answer!" Lilly reassured, briefly pulling the Forest Guardian into a gentle, one-armed hug. "Can answer, but... not know, think I."

If Lilly's earlier responses had caught Sue's attention, this detail left her staring at the leafy dancer hawk-eyed, trying her hardest to keep her shocked expression to a minimum. "Y-you don't know why you left?" Sue asked, her voice wavering. She caught Solstice looking over from her own mental struggles to pay attention to the discussion taking place, the similarities to Sue's circumstances not lost on the older Forest Guardian.

"Not all know," Lilly clarified. "Other my kin angry, remember I, then me and Petal left. Not remember walk here—Petal very very small, me angry. Anger make bad memory."

And she doesn't remember how she got here either...

Sue wasn't expecting her best lead in the mystery of how she was brought here to be the farmhand her heart was growing closer to by the moment. It was an exciting possibility, but also one that risked putting Lilly off if she were to ask too many, too prying questions—and that's without even considering the risk of revealing her own secrets. With that in mind, Sue went back to an earlier topic, hoping to spot more parallels between herself and her friend. "Y-yeah, it's really not. D-do you think your f-family is worried about you and Petal?"

To Sue's relief, Lilly's reaction was very light-spirited—but also a bit mortifying with how confident her head shaking was. "No, think not! There, no family like here. Many many my kin everywhere in big mountain grassland. Everyone help everyone, everyone care everyone. Who parent who, not know."

...

Well, there goes the possibility of her having once been a human.

"I-I see," Sue pretended, the actual mental image not sitting right in her mind. Some of her confusion was caused by the less-than-precise phrasing on Lilly's end, but even beyond that, trying to imagine what she had described proved challenging. Collectively raising children was one thing, but to the degree that nobody even knew who anyone's parents were just felt... wrong to her human sensibilities. Even with her emotional reaction being as strong as it was, though, she wasn't under any delusions that she was the best judge of how a wholly different, entirely non-human species raised their offspring.

It just felt... odd.

Though, now that she'd thought some more about it—mostly against her will—Sue couldn't help but ask about an earlier detail. "If everyone was helping each other, then why were others of your kin angry at you?"

As unphased as Lilly was about the earlier questions, this one finally touched on something she was much more self-conscious of, an almost imperceptible shudder going through her body. Sue may not have had a hand to spare at the moment, but she did the best thing she could in the heat of the moment, walking up to the dancer and offering her a warm smile. "I promise, you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Can answer," Lilly insisted, straightening her back and scooting closer to the Forest Guardian, her presence helping her regain confidence. "Think just my talking. Not talk good here, not sing good there. Not keep tune anywhere. Not like me others. One day I take Petal and run—think I."

Sue nodded firmly. Guess that explained why Lilly felt so insecure about the way she talked. There were still many question marks in her recollection of the events, many similarities the once-human would love to prod at some other time, but they didn't have the time for that—Sundance's dwelling was finally coming up ahead.

"Ooo, we here!" Lilly cheered—and sighed in disappointment, turning around to face Sue again. "Sorry Sue, need run for duties! Help harvest, gather food for N-new—night town," she elaborated, struggling with the village name until finally admitting verbal defeat.

Any disappointment Sue might've felt at her crush friend taking off was immediately overshadowed by the explanation of what she'd be doing today, though. "W-wait, you'll be gathering crops for Newmoon?"

"Indeed," Solstice answered for Lilly. "If everything goes right, we'll have many carts' worth of supplies for Newmoon by tomorrow morning. Transporting them all there won't be easy, especially with the only path we know of being barely wide enough for one person, but we'll figure something out.

"And I help!" Lilly pridefully added, her chin raised high with her leafy hands on her hips. "Strong, can carry cart!"

"C-can I come too?" Petal chimed in, her quiet squeaks sounding dizzy after being constantly moved between her sister's arms.

Alas, the lil' plant bud's idea was only met with firm shakes of denial. "No Petal, sorry! It long and hard, not with little ones," Lilly explained, defusing her sister's enthusiasm. A few squealing 'pleaseeeee' that followed had no effect, either. This would all be a challenge as is, and having to look out for kids through it all would've made it even harder.

And that wasn't even the only reason.

"I know you want to come along with your sister," Solstice began, giving Petal the warmest smile she could muster after everything they've been through today, "but think of Newmoon in all this. I can only imagine how rattled they'll be just by aid showing up after everything so far, and every person present will only make it all the more overwhelming for them."

That wasn't an angle Sue had considered either, dampening her own hopes of tagging along. Crutch or not, she wasn't a fast walker and barely had enough physical strength to keep carrying Joy in her arms. Any serious help with what sounded like hundreds upon hundreds of pounds' worth of supplies was out of the question.

Solstice had spotted the disappointment in her student's mind, but before she could talk to her about it, Petal finally had a reply to the adults' explanation—a slow, somber nod. "I see... sorry."

"No sorry, Petal! Will tell everything in night town! Now need go, bye Solstice, bye Sue!" Lilly replied, giving the Mayor a brief wave before turning towards Sue, about to sneak in a smooch on her cheek—

Only for the Forest Guardian in question to end up having the same idea. They were locked in a brief but intense kiss before Lilly regretfully dashed back, spinning in place in elation as her cheeks burned bright red. "Eeeeeeee, I-I—bye!" She was gone within moments, booking it behind the nearest corner in blissful fluster; Sue only prevented from following in tow because of the two exhausted children in her arms.

Comet's giggle at the silly emotions in the air helped everyone's psyches, too.

No matter how winding their path here had been, they had arrived at Sundance's dwelling. The stairs leading up to it were just as treacherous as they felt the first time, not inspiring much confidence in Sue after she'd calmed down. Solstice was eager to help, wordlessly embracing Joy and Twinkle in her gentle aura after untying the latter from Sue's chest—only for the former to squirm and whine even as she was about to fall asleep.

They might have gone along with it—or, more likely, not known how to stop it—but Twinkle wasn't a fan of being separated from their guardian, either. They futilely tried to reach towards Sue with their black tentacles, their squeaks quiet and distorted. Aided by Solstice's translation, Sue spoke up, trying to calm them both down. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay. I just need to get up these stairs, and I'll be back with you two again."

Solstice moved Twinkle within the reach of their guardian as they were being comforted, helping motivate them to endure that brief stretch without Sue. Unfortunately, her words weren't as effective with Joy, the metal girl clinging to Sue's shoulder even as she fought on against her tiredness. It was an impasse the younger Forest Guardian didn't mind waiting to resolve itself in theory, but her arms were starting to complain big time.

A sudden buzzing from down the road was the last thing Sue wanted to hear as she wracked her mind about how to calm Joy down, but the identities of the newcomers provided some much-appreciated balm for her strained mind.

Basil was as energetic and upbeat as ever, hovering right before Sue, what was probably buzzed greetings remaining untranslated. Splitleaf wasn't far behind, looking relieved to have found their group, even if the reason wasn't immediately clear. The scene was a bit overwhelming, and Sue could tell Solstice was about to extend her translation to include the two lovable insects—which is why she cut in, shaking her head. "H-hey, wait Solstice, I—I'll handle this. They want to talk to me, right?"

The Mayor blinked, taken aback before slowly nodding. "^Are you sure, Sue?^"

Not really, but I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to practice.

"Y-yeah. Y-you can take Twinkle upstairs, a-and I'll talk to them."

Solstice was unconvinced but didn't try to argue, carefully holding the small ghost as she made it up the stairs and into Sundance's den. If the many woofs filling the air were anything to go by, both foxes were home. The younger Forest Guardian slowly sat down on one of the lower stairs, sitting Joy beside her to free her arms as she prepared for a reprisal of her magic trick.

After double-checking that the metal girl wasn't about to yank on one of her arms and cause a reprisal of her embarrassment from a few days ago, Sue went for it. Her left hand tuned out the surrounding emotions while her right hand repeated its crutch grasp, extending one mental tendril out of her skull at a time and carefully navigating them first to the bee, and then to the mantis.

Judging by the lack of agonized buzzing and anger in her immediate vicinity, it seemed she'd pulled it—

"Sue Sue you okay? Not sleep Sue, mom want fix your horn wound," Basil buzzed, the hum of his wings moving all over the scene before zipping right to her free side.

The Forest Guardian took a deep sigh of relief, opening her eyes to smile at the two bugs, catching Splitleaf rolling her eyes at her son. "She not sleeping, Basil. Doing psychics, my guess. Hello, Sue, can hear us?" the mantis asked, growing palpably relieved at the firm nod that followed. "Good, good. Willow tell me about injury. Sensitive, my bandage better. Can try change?"

Sue only needed a quick glance down at her wounded extremity to realize just how necessary a change of bandages was. The sight had turned from worrisome to unsightly—especially with the chubby medic leaving them untouched yesterday morning. She didn't see any bandages in Splitleaf's possession, but had assumed she was just keeping them hidden somewhere. "S-sure! Thank you for the offer, Splitleaf."

"Problem not," the mantis reassured.

As she unwound the bandages already there, making Sue wince while comforting the girl beside her, Basil took it upon himself to satisfy his curiosity about the big event yesterday. "Sue Sue, what yesterday happen so loud and glowing and you did! Wonder how!"

"Aye. Everyone in hive talk about it at night," Splitleaf followed up.

Sue felt a bit self conscious about being the talk of the town as she desperately tried to gather words. To her chagrin, words kept not coming—because she had no idea what exactly had happened there either.

"Yes yes yes! Look like Night Mother talk you, strong and bright and good good!" the bee geeked out, leaving Sue feeling even more flustered than before.

His mom might've just weakly chuckled at the idea that yesterday's outburst was in any way divinely inspired, but the Forest Guardian herself wasn't sure either way. "Truthfully, I—I don't know," Sue admitted, catching both bugs' attention. "It was a really long time coming either way. If it really was Her, then..." she trailed off, looking up at the barely visible moon in the corner of the daylight sky, "then I want to thank Her for setting things straight again."

"How it feel when shouting and angry and glowing?" Basil asked, swooning at the idea of his silly friend being a vessel for divine will.

"The angriest I've ever been," Sue chuckled, the admission catching the other two aback. "It's like when you get so angry you can't see straight anymore. I was already there, and then I got angrier and angrier, I panicked, and then... that happened, and it was just a blur."

"Guess it only right for Mother to anger sometimes," Splitleaf chuckled before returning to her work. Sue felt that remark well, looking down at Joy and reminiscing about how angry she felt when it looked like that bat kept wanting to make her miserable—

And then; she spotted what the caretaker was actually doing with her horn.

To the best of Sue's tattered knowledge of biology, mantises weren't capable of spinning silk. It was a fact that Splitleaf decided to conveniently ignore, carefully weaving the thick pearly thread around the shallow cut. It didn't feel anywhere near as disgusting as Sue would've thought from the description alone. The silk wasn't putting any additional pressure on the sensitive tissue, either. If it worked, it worked—Sue just hoped it was sterile, though.

...

Pretty please.

"Anger no anger, glad you did, Sue!" Basil buzzed, taking Sue aback with a buzzing embrace and dragging her attention away from the mantis. "Excited tomorrow, help Newmoon help Ginger too! Talk yesterday fun, want more." Before she could respond in kind, though, he was already gone, to her disappointment.

"Ginger good sort, aye," Splitleaf added, effortlessly moving the ever-weaving thread to the bite-sized cuts on her arms each time she had to talk. "Glad have stockpiles important items."

"Yes yes! Tomorrow tomorrow ahhh, excited! Never think I live important times," Basil sighed—and finally spotted the metal girl beside Sue. "Oh, Joy sleep?"

A quick glance confirmed his observation. Joy had indeed dozed off in the meantime, to Sue's relief. She kept her close, nodding softly as she explained, "Yeah. We ran into N—Solstice's family, unfortunately..."

"Solstice family?" Basil tilted his head. "That not good?" he asked, unsure, inferring based on Sue's tone.

"Ugh, them," Splitleaf grumbled, getting up from her finished work. "Nasty. Stay away, Basil—don't want you hurt."

"Wh-why they hurt me?" the bee asked, excitable voice noticeably wavering. His mom sighed in return, about to gather words—

*woof, woof!*

Only for Spark to cut her off, rushing down the stairs—and leaping right into Basil's arms, taking Sue aback. She watched as the two of them exchanged affection to whichever extent their differing anatomies let them, uncertain where it'd come from. She'd seen them be friendly in the past, sure, but this felt like more than just acquaintances.

Splitleaf wasn't blind to her surprise, buzzes sounding like giggles as she explained, "They always play when little," clarifying almost nothing. Sure, Spark wasn't an infant anymore or anything, but she was still firmly a child, whereas Basil had always given off the impression of being an adult. He even had children, for crying out loud. The mantis wasn't done with her explanation yet, though. "Don't look it, almost same age. Basil... one Moon older Spark."

"Two!" the bee cut in as if his honor were on the line.

"One, two, ten, still my baby," the mantis laughed, forcing the most embarrassed buzz out of Basil Sue had heard yet.

It was all immensely amusing, though the Forest Guardian couldn't help but feel a bit bad, still. If Basil was an adult despite being the same age as Spark, didn't that mean his lifespan was much shorter than hers would be? She supposed it made sense; insects weren't known for their long lives, but... she still felt bad about it.

Sure, random chance shaping people's lifespans was just as true in her old world, but there, living into your sixties was a relatively safe bet anywhere, infant mortality aside. How much time did Basil have left if he was already an adult at around five years old? Ten? Fifteen? Nowhere near enough either way.

Though... it certainly wasn't bringing him any despair at the moment, and focusing on the happiness in the scene would only do Sue good, too.

"Basil, gonna go?" the mantis beckoned, prompting her son to place the fiery kit down on solid ground and finally follow her. "Care Sue—please rest, let wound recover, let you recover. Okay?"

Won't hurt to try that, yeah.

"S-sure," Sue nodded, smiling as she watched the bug family head out. With them gone, she finally got her overdue share of affection from the fiery kit, her excited woofs remaining untranslated. After she'd gathered the strength to stand up again with Joy in her arms, Sue finally made it the rest of the way upstairs, her legs definitely appreciating a moment of rest.

Inside, Sundance was laying in the bedding part of her dwelling, rifling through the drawers and boxes in her workshop and psyching out everything that looked like it'd be useful for the crafts project at hand. Fabrics, needles, thread, dyes, oils to impregnate the material with after they were done, and more. As she gathered her supplies, Twinkle and Comet intently observed the spectacle from beside her. The former's spectral limbs were carefully examining the small patches laid out before them to test which of them felt the most comfortable to the touch.

A few feet away, Solstice sat in the chair usually reserved for her friend, calmly enjoying her tea as her mind worked on overdrive, chewing through everything that had happened today and what it could mean. It took until Sue had closed the front door behind herself for the Mayor to finally notice her having caught up, extending the translation to her and giving her a weak smile. "^How's the new bandage feeling?^" she asked telepathically mid-sip.

"As if it's not there at all," Sue remarked, the gentle numbing effect of the silk making the constant aching almost completely ignorable.

Hearing her voice finally stirred Sundance from her impromptu inventory check. The older vixen winced as she looked over her shoulder and shot her a reassuring expression, with just a hint of concern. "Good morning, Sue," she greeted, her voice much less weak than yesterday. "I hope you're doing alright after what happened earlier."

Comet was happy to hear her too, squealing in her direction and considering waddling over before choosing to stay beside his little ghostly friend.

"Awww. I'm—I'm okay now, I think," Sue sighed. "I'd rather not think or talk about it much if it's alright."

The older vixen firmly nodded. "Of course, it's your call. Feel free to rest Joy beside me. Something tells me she'll enjoy the warmth," Sundance smirked.

Before Sue could even take another step in her direction, Solstice was already helping her out, carefully hovering the little one to rest wrapped in the vixen's warm tail as she slid up the free chair over to her pupil, saving her those few steps. Spark, however, was confused about what her mom and friend had just talked about. She asked, "What happened, Sue? Are you—*ow*—okay?"

"Sue just answered that she'd rather not talk about it, sweetie," Sundance chided.

Sue's attention, however, was more so on the wince that had left the younger fox. She chuckled as she sat down, half joking and half guessing, "Hey Sparkie—is everything alright? Did you pull something while running towards Basil?"

"Noooooo," the kit insisted, wasting no time leaping onto her friend's lap. "I felt like that all—*ugh*—all day, I don't know why." Regardless of where her aching had come from, Sue was keen on comforting her as much as she could, careful pets relaxing the little fox as the stone den returned to its earlier silence.

Leaning back into her seat once more, Sue tried to take a hint from Joy and Spark and sink into the surrounding serenity. To let herself fully relax after everything she'd already been through, after having to go face-to-face with Solstice's family—

But she couldn't.

The events she'd witnessed were awful, and she'd rather forget about them, but... the words continued to linger in her mind. The threats towards Moonview as a whole and Comet in specific, the hatred towards them all, towards Solstice, towards her. And, of course, the mystery at the center of it all,

"Solstice," Sue whispered, pausing as she saw the Mayor wince quietly, "why did they call you 'Snowmoon'?"

Spark woofed at her in confusion, the vulpine sound making Sue realize she'd been taken out of her mentor's translation—probably for the best, considering the topic. Off to the side, said mentor sipped on her tea and tried her best to keep her son from noticing the shift in the room's emotions, eventually finding the courage to admit to her untruths. "^'Snowmoon' is my... real name, the one that had been given to me when I received my blessings.^"

Sue nodded slowly, having vaguely pieced together that much. "I see. Would you want me to call you—"

"^No, please no,^" Solstice insisted, a flash of fear shooting through her face. "^I'd like you to continue to use 'Solstice', please. 'Snowmoon' is... a deeply hateful name, one I do not want to represent me. I-I can only hope m-me refusing to use it doesn't bring on the P-Pale Lady's anger...^"

"^It does not, Solstice,^" Sundance reassured, taking the other two aback as she continued to calmly sort through her supplies.

Still, Sue was confused. "What makes it hateful?" she whispered.

"^In—in my tribe, each full Moon had its own sacred name, and the traditions associated with it. Snowmoon is the name for the full Moon of freezing winter. When life is still, land is barren, and the world is little more than white ground and blue sky. On the day of the Snowmoon, our warriors would head out far and wide to scour the land and strike the night kin when they were at their weakest, bereft of strength and starving—and it is these hunts I was named after.^"

The once-human could only sit there in shock as she processed Solstice's words; her tribe being so vile they had named her after an act of genocide. It was all the explanation she could ever need, only whispering a quiet "Thank you" afterwards, her understanding appreciated deeply by her mentor.

Thankfully for everyone, the mystic of the house knew just what to do to redirect everyone's heads toward less oppressive subjects. "^Alright, I think this is everything,^" Sundance spoke, making sure the little bag ghost in particular understood her words.

"^Now, the question—what do you want to look like, Twinkle?^"



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 28: Shape



The assortment of fabrics, threads, and dyes was dazzling, and to say that Twinkle was overwhelmed would be an understatement. They didn't have the time to investigate even half the sights before them by the time Sundance's question arrived, impossible to answer in its vagueness.

Both in how much it encompassed, and because of the tiny ghost's limited communication.

Sundance wasted no time focusing on the link between herself and the obscured being, eager to help them make as informed a choice as possible. Her determination burned bright—but it had little fuel to go off, especially without the leftover adrenaline that had helped her yesterday evening. Both Forest Guardians immediately sensed her strain, Solstice giving her a mental hand soon after. She chuckled under her breath. "^Goodness, it's like trying to touch fog.^"

Sue exhaled through her nostrils at the remark, trying to reassure the lil' ghost that everything was going alright. Her mentor continued, much more clearly this time, "^Hello, Twinkle! Now, how to go about this... oh—have you chosen a fabric you like yet?^"

Now that was a question Twinkle both understood much better and which they had the ability to actually answer. They scooted along in their disguise, inky tendrils touching many patches at once as they examined the stunning selection. Beside them, Comet was also playing around with the patches, babbling at all the different textures as the ghost settled upon something.

Or rather, many somethings.

Sue was taken aback as their spectral limbs stretched many feet out, bundling many samples together into a haphazard pile. As good as the ghost themselves felt at finding all those things they liked, the adults' expressions faded as they watched them pick up more and more patches of fabric. Eventually, they settled on a stack half their size and with over a dozen different choices. Cotton, linen, silk—they had everything there, with the only trait most of their picks had in common being a yellow or yellow-adjacent coloration.

They like yellow, hmm. Worth keeping in mind.

As much as Solstice appreciated her son enjoying himself and the tiny ghost bundle patting their choices in satisfaction, this wouldn't help them much. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out how to ask them to narrow down their selection—only for Sundance to step in. The fox swiped everything Twinkle didn't select off to the side and laid out their choices in a neat grid. She smiled at the ghost, a blunt claw tapping on each misshapen patch before them. "Alright. Which of those feels the nicest, Twinkle?"

Another question, and this time they even knew the answer! The little ghost squeaked at the happy realization, bounding toward the smallest patch and repeatedly poking it with their tentacle. Sundance wasn't surprised by their choice, psychicing the off-white rectangle into her paw. "Silk, eh? Good choice, I'd say. We'll definitely need to ask Dewdrop for more, but that can come later."

Sue leaned back in her seat at the mention of silk, Spark mumbling quietly on her lap as her stream of affection was interrupted. On a rational level, she knew silk was neither modern nor even that much of a challenge in a village full of mutated insects—as evidenced by the very similar-looking patch covering her horn. Still, the word was associated with poshness in her mind.

If there was anyone who had earned a bit of luxury, it was Twinkle, so all was well.

Even beyond that, silk didn't strike her as being the most durable material. Certainly not something that would endure being in use around the clock, which... Twinkle needed, for better or worse. Before she could bring up the concern, she watched Sundance tilt her head towards her and shoot her a knowing wink before addressing the little ghost again. "Alright, so this will be the part of the inside, what you'll be touching. We'll use something else on the outside, something tougher..."

The vixen's gaze swept over the selection again as Twinkle scooted closer, left rather confused by her tangent. There was a limit to how much someone so tiny could understand, and Twinkle was right on its edge. Sundance was well aware, tapping a claw against one of the linen patches before snapping her fingers. "Alright, I have an idea. Now, where'd I toss that thing..." she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

The two Forest Guardians felt her aura probe around the corners of the room, its motions jerky and unwieldy. It went through drawer after drawer, having harder and harder time finding the unnamed item in question. Solstice leaned forward in her seat, telepathically asking, "^What are you looking for?^"

"^Metal octagon the size of your hand,^" Sundance explained, her focus faltering as the bundled ghost scooted closer and closer to her fluff.

Increasingly louder rattling filled the vixen's dwelling as Solstice focused harder and harder, uncertain why it was so hard to pull that item out. Before the mystic could suggest anything, her friend went for the brute force option. Her eyes lit up with a flare as she lifted everything in the workshop corner of the dwelling up and away from the wall—and whisked away the item in question, freeing it from its prison behind one of the drawers.

Sundance blinked, uncertain how the trinket could've ended up there. "How in the world... huh. Much appreciated, Solstice." She then gently tapped on Twinkle's outfit to catch their attention as she lowered the freshly retrieved item to their eye level, hovering over a couple of yellowish patches of linen beside it. "Now, Twinkle," she began, bringing both patches to their outfit and laying them on the ghost's sides as she drew their attention to the mysterious item. "Which color do you like more?"

The item turning out to be a mirror made sense, but its appearance... didn't. It wasn't framed in wood or stone like almost everything in Moonview, didn't have any decorations in thread or fabric. It appeared to be made entirely out of metal, brass outer rim surrounding the central reflective circle. She could spot cracks and imperfections in the mirror even from her vantage point, but they paled in significance to the item's very existence here.

Still, there was fashion to be done first.

Twinkle stared at their own reflection, jolting as they watched the clothed blob in the mirror move in tune with them. The realization brought them not a small amount of discomfort, almost making them hide on the spot—before Sundance reached in with her paw, covering the central part of the mirror and only leaving the two patches visible. "My apologies. I should've guessed seeing yourself like this would be uncomfortable. Still—which color do you prefer, Twinkle?"

The choice between lemon yellow and wheat yellow was a difficult one, especially with added stresses of being acutely reminded of their own appearance. Eventually Twinkle settled on the latter, shakily clutching the small patch. The material was chosen—now for the shape, and nobody was under any delusions that figuring that out wouldn't be the hard part of this entire undertaking. Sundance sighed, sliding away everything but the correct patch of linen and the bit of silk chosen earlier. "How we will figure out the form, I am unsure."

This time, Sue knew just what to do. If they would be designing something for Twinkle, then they'd have to sketch it out first. She suggested, "Maybe we can draw it for them? Ask them one thing after another to see if they like it."

Drawing on paper was decidedly not the wheelhouse of either of Sue's mentors, but they could see the utility in that approach. The vixen focused on a small pot in the corner of the storage corner, levitating out a single page of very dry paper and unfurling it on the ground before her, almost snapping it in half as she did so. "Let's try that, then! Twinkle, come, let me draw some ideas..." Sundance began, taking a deep breath as a stick-shaped piece of charcoal joined the paper in front of her—before leaping to the page's other side the moment Comet spotted it.

The sketching that followed… didn't go well.

Sue grew increasingly concerned as the makeshift pencil twitched in the vixen's mental grasp, its lines jagged and much longer than intended. Sundance wasn't blind to her mind not being the best suited for fine detail, soon trying to replace it with her paw—only for the results to be even worse.

The once-human didn't want to impose or come off as bragging, but... she could do a much better job than this. "Maybe I could try? I have a lot of experience with writing."

For a moment, she felt the vixen's mind reject her offer out of a knee-jerk impulse, about to double down on trying to do it alone—before catching itself and relenting with a tired sigh. "If you say so, Sue. Here, let me..." Sundance muttered, moving everything needed to the part of Sue's lap that wasn't being occupied by Spark. A thin plank to lay the page down on, paper, charcoal, the patches, and one small ghost, surprised by all the motion but happy to find themselves on their guardian's lap again.

To her immense dismay, the fiery kit had to vacate her current resting spot, groaning as she hopped off and curled up on the ground next to her friend.

Without an eraser, Sue couldn't quite undo the mess the older vixen's attempts at drawing left on the page. With a bit of effort, though, she incorporated them into an improved sketch of what Twinkle's current outfit looked like. A plain bundle, tied with two knots at the top, and with a couple of small holes for them to look and reach out through.

Despite her drawings being many, many levels of complexity away from the standards of even the most backwater art school on Earth, they still ended up catching Solstice's attention. It was one thing to draw quickly and nicely enough—it was something entirely different to do so without any psychics, with only physical fine motor control to rely on.

Guess human hands really are special, huh?

"Alright, this is how you look like right now, Twinkle." Sue explained, tapping the ghost's current sketch with a black-stained finger. Considering their reaction to the mirror earlier, feeling them shudder and withdraw further into her at her words was entirely expected. And yet, it still left her feeling sadder afterward. The emotion was undercut knowing that she was helping them overcome that discomfort, but not entirely erased. "Alright, if you'd rather look different, then... how about this?"

After they'd gotten over their shudder at seeing themselves again, Twinkle scooted along Sue's drawing arm, watching as she came up with a similarly blob-shaped outline, but one that was also much taller. Their guardian didn't even have to ask to sense their disapproval, stopping mid-stroke to tap idly on the brittle paper instead, struggling for ideas.

Though, for once, the ghost themselves pushed through to put their desire into words, weak and whispered. "Head..."

The word drew the attention of all three women—including the older vixen, increasingly feeling the call of the same exhaustion that had knocked out Joy. Sue nodded intently, lifting the charcoal stick and scribbling three tiny outlines at the top of the page. One with their current blob-shaped base and a head attached on top of it without any neck, another with a short neck like Spark had, and a third with a longer one, like her own.

Attaching a head on top of their outfit would be tricky either way, though. If the openings of their baggy bundle were on top, then that'd make it much harder to attach anything there. Ideally they'd do so at the bottom, but—

Before Sue could continue that thought, she glanced at Twinkle to get a feel for their current proportions—and blinked at seeing them clinging to her arm upside down, with the bag's openings at the bottom. They seemed to have no issue with that, observing her drawings through the small hole in the fabric. They then turned around to look up at her, briefly scared of her having accidentally seen them again.

That simplified things.

"Okay, which of these three do you like the most, Twinkle?" Sue asked, pointing at each doodle. She couldn't even finish showing them off before Twinkle settled on the neckless sketch, tapping it repeatedly with their tentacle. Their guardian beamed, drawing a larger version of the chosen outline, now with the opening for locomotion at the bottom. "I don't think you're big enough to fill all this in unless we make it really small, so you'll need holes to see through."

"Next, what would you want for the head—oh, Sundance, could I take a look at that mirror?" Sue interrupted herself, catching the vixen's attention right as she was about to stash the trinket in the depths of her workshop again.

Sundance blinked at her drowsily before nodding in return, her orange glow pale as it hovered the thick-rimmed mirror into Sue's waiting hand. Twinkle shied away from it—at least until she turned the reflective side firmly away from them, the inability to see themselves calming the ghostie down again.

Which Sue was very glad for, considering the wealth of inscriptions on the mirror's back side.

She wasn't as naïve as to let herself believe she'd suddenly found a human artifact in this world after so long. Still, having that idea be crossed out still felt just a bit disappointing. Human or not, the materials it was made of still implied a much more sophisticated knowledge of metallurgy than anything Patina and her little workshop could hope for in her dreams. The reflective part was made of a metal that didn't quite look like the silver mirrors she was familiar with, marred by a slight brown tint. It sure came much closer than anything she would've guessed could exist in a pre-industrial world.

The reverse was made of what looked like solid brass. It was corroded at the edges, but no less impressive because of that. Its outer rim was filled with geometrical engravings that Sue could only guess were supposed to be a writing script of some sort, one slightly less overwhelming than Moonview's own language—but only just. Each... symbol was very dense, made of upwards of a dozen straight lines and as many tiny circles, reminding Sue of Chinese at a glance. It contrasted greatly with the sigil at the center, looking oddly like a modern logo with how simple and elegant it was.

An outer ring, covered in a very thin layer of gold that had almost entirely faded away by now.

Three silver-ish, parallel stripes inside of it, intertwining at the edges.

Sue just barely stopped herself from asking questions about the trinket right away, instead first sketching yet another set of doodles for Twinkle. They showed off a few different ear shapes she was familiar with, with an additional option for no ears on their costume's head whatsoever. As the little ghost pondered, their guardian asked, "Sundance, where did you get this mirror from? It doesn't look... uh..."

"Doesn't look primitive enough to have been made in Moonview?" the vixen smirked, chuckling at the brief flash of embarrassment that went through her pupil at her joke. As Sue calmed down and Solstice got a good look at the mirror herself, their mentor and friend explained, "I'm quite sure I bartered for it in Central City a few years back. Though it wasn't made there either, got it from a traveling merchant."

That was an answer, but it didn't come close to scratching the itch of Sue's curiosity—and the vixen could tell. "As to who actually crafted it... I believe they name themselves 'Golden Sky', or something to that effect. I've picked up bits of information about them here and there, but am unsure how much of it is hearsay."

The phrasing took Sue aback as she added large triangular ears to her sketch, moving onto doodling several arrangements of limbs. "You've never interacted with them in your travels? Are they not around anymore, then?"

"^I think they're just not on this continent,^" Solstice chimed in, latching onto the discussion as a means of distraction.

Sundance nodded. "To the best of my knowledge, that's correct. They aren't on our landmass, and if they were, we'd be very aware of it."

Sue raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong with them?"

"I doubt a civilization this massive isn't hiding something repulsive underneath their facade, based on the places I've visited—but that's not what I meant. They are incredibly numerous, and from what I've heard, eagerly spread their influence far and wide. As to why nobody on our landmass has crossed paths with them yet, aside from a few traders insane enough to cross the seas to and fro? Beats me."

Her pupil nodded along with her words, imagination taking her for a ride as she tried to come up with an analogy for her own world. She wondered if this was how it felt for people far, far from the Roman Empire to interact with their items, if briefly. To be a rural community in present day Scotland or Finland, for whom Rome and its grandeur must've sounded more like a myth than a real place, and get their hands on an item that didn't just prove that Rome was real, but that it was also far more technologically advanced than what they could make.

Hilarious, especially considering the divine meddling in her dreams.

It was one thing to be kidnapped from her world, to be thrust into a conflict between deities central to the largest civilization around, with the fate of the entire world at stake. It was something entirely different to have gotten whisked away into what must be an utter backwater in comparison, all that just to play divorce counselor for two bitter deities.

Come forth, glorious hero from another dimension, you must come to Earth to save it from a catastrophic divine conflict! Which of the many grand and breathtaking cities will you be sent to, you ask? Oh, hero, you are going to Dumfries, population thirty-three thousand—

"^...Sue?^" Solstice asked, worried at the younger Forest Guardian having spent the last ten minutes with an increasingly silly expression as her drawing hand tried to sketch gods-know-what in the air.

"Oh—uh, sorry," Sue mumbled, blinking as she grounded herself to the amusement of everyone around her. Everyone except Twinkle, that is. The little ghost grew worried that their repeated pokes at the sketch featuring simple, relatively stubby paws made their guardian upset with their choice.

To their relief, it wasn't the case at all, as shown first by Sue sketching their selection down, and then by holding them tight, stroking the top of their disguise. Both she and they needed it. As fun as it was to drift off into imagined absurdities and giggle at her own bad jokes, she had an increasingly excited little ghost on her lap, eager to look like someone again. "I'm here Twinkle, I'm here."

As Twinkle held her close and she stretched her hand, Sue took another look at their sketch so far, finding it... broadly complete. Sure, much of the detail was still missing, but they were getting close to finished as far as the outline went. Two segments, triangular ears, and short decorative arms. What else could they even add? Sue smiled, happy with the results so far. "I think we're almost done."

"Oh oh, can I see?" Spark yawned, stretching on the floor beside her friend and standing up on her rear legs to get a better look at the sketch. To her body's relief, the drawing was lowered to her soon after, letting her examine the messy arrangement of various small sketches—and notice something was missing. "Awwh, Twinkle doesn't want a tail?"

...

Right, tails exist here.

"I knew I forgot something," Sue lied, chuckling in as non-awkward a way as she could manage as she scribbled another row of doodles. Each of them had all the details that had been chosen so far, but with a slightly different tail poking out from behind their disguise. Cat-like long and thin ones, dog-like shorter and fluffier, Spark's large and bushy—even a thick reptilian one like Astra or Ginger had.

Satisfied with the selection provided for the hauntling wrapped around her, Sue dared going back to where her thoughts had taken her earlier. "That 'Central City' place," she began, catching her mentors' attention. "You've mentioned it a few times, but I'm not sure how big it is. It kinda sounded important, but now I'm not sure, especially with that 'Golden Sky' land sounding a lot bigger than it..."

Solstice giggled. "^Believe me, Sue, it's a lot less impressive than that name makes it sound.^"

"I'm quite certain they thought they were the largest settlement in the world when they chose it," Sundance smirked, "but that's far from the truth, even on our landmass. To the little credit they deserve, you'd have to march for most of a Moon to reach any settlement that's larger than it, so I can't blame them too much for coming up with that name. Nowadays, however? No excuse but their ego."

"But what is it like?" Sue asked again.

Sundance tapped her claw on the stone floor. "Much more sprawled out. It used to be a cluster of villages, each with their own farmland, folklore and traditions, before they unified a hundred years ago or so. Much of that happened by force, and it left relations... strained between what are now different parts of Central City. They're quite hostile towards each other and any outsider that isn't able to immediately contribute with their labor."

Oh, it's just London.

"I see. And you went there for diplomatic relations recently?"

Solstice nodded. "^Just before you showed up, from what we were told. It might be an... unpleasant place, but its population is still much larger than ours, five- or six-fold if I were to guess. The last thing we need are more enemies.^"

*nudge nudge*

Before Sue could continue to probe the topic of Moonview's unpleasant neighbor, she found her arm being gently pulled on by the ghost clinging to her. She leaned forward with a faint nod, bringing a finger to the choice of the tail and waiting for Twinkle to pick the one they liked—only for them to not do that. Their guardian waited for a moment, then another, before finally realizing something was afoot. "What's wrong, Twinkle? Can't choose?"

They shook with their whole body at the idea, concentrating as they gathered their amorphous thoughts. "...other..." they whimpered, keeping their tentacles close to themselves.

Now that was a development Sue wasn't expecting. She was the furthest thing from a biologist, but there couldn't have been too many possible tail types for them to choose, right? She sure didn't include all of them in her selection, but struggled to come up with anything markedly different that still belonged to a terrestrial animal.

...

Well, there was that pink nightmare bat with a stinger tail. If it was up to Sue, their butt would've been kicked off all the way to Mars, but for the time being, they counted as terrestrial. That blue bird they had talked with earlier was an option too with their avian tail. And Willow had something else entirely too, to the best of her recollection...

Oh, bother.

Undeterred, Sue got to sketching all her new ideas for the bag of child attached to her arm to pick from. She encouraged them with gentle taps and eager nods as their inky tentacle moved from option to option—and again, didn't like any of them. She'd kept a 'no tail' option so it couldn't have been that, but if not, then what? This world was weird, but there was no way there were that many options as far as tails went.

She hoped so, at least.

Still, it was clear her intuition had run into a dead-end, and she'd need a more informed perspective. Said perspective was struggling to stay awake with no discussion to keep her occupied, but it wasn't exactly hard to spot Sue's mind veering towards her, even while this tired. "Something on your mind, Sue?"

"I—yes. I'm trying to find the right tail for Twinkle, and I tried all the different kinds I could think of, but none of them are what they want. Do you know what they could want?" Sue asked, handing the almost full page of sketches to the vixen's orange psychics.

Sundance squinted at the drawing, mouthing to herself after she'd found the scribbled corner with different tails. And, to Sue's surprise, ended up similarly confused. As opposed to her pupil, though, she remembered many other species she'd seen, talked, fought and... bonded with, out there in the wild. "Hmmmm," she intelligently began, "try a spiral, a zig-zag, and a segmented one with a large bulb at the end."

All of those sounded more like attributes of Lovecraftian entities than anything that even resembled an animal, but Sue didn't have the ground to argue. Once she got her hands on the page again, she wasted no time sketching the options—and got a match almost immediately. As dismissive as she'd been to the idea moments earlier, if Twinkle's reaction was anything to go by, having a zig-zag tail meant a lot to them.

With the tail added, the rest of the details almost filled themselves. A pair of eyes, a simple smile, a few more lines to better separate all the individual parts. Sue hoped that having their default be a warm, friendly expression would help with first impressions. Duck knows Twinkle could use all the help they could get with that. Once the hauntling themselves signed off on the finished design, she would upscale it and copy it on the other, clean-ish side. Still, had to get their approval first. "So, Twinkle—do you want to look like that?"

They erupted in happy emotions before Sue could even finish her question, tapping the finished sketch repeatedly as they wriggled on top of her arm. Their joy soon grew infectious, even catching Spark's attention. Sue eagerly showed the drawing to the fiery kit, taking in a not-insignificant amount of pride in both the little ghost and the almost-as-little fox being impressed with the quality of her scribbles—

"Was this how you used to look like, Twinkle?"​

The hearts in the room skipped a collective beat at Spark's question. The vixen herself soon realized her own faux pas too, especially with the lil' ghost's reaction being so immediate. They froze mid-movement, letting out a drawn-out whimper as their tentacles shook and withdrew. "I-I'm sorry Twinkle, I-I—" Spark pleaded, her alarmed woofs only making Twinkle sadder and sadder. Wordlessly, Sue pulled the ghostie into her arms, holding them to her chest as Sundance beckoned her daughter over.

"Shhhh, shhhhhh..." Sue tried to soothe. Despite how hazy many of their emotions were, their despair was very clear. They didn't even dare reach out to hold her hand, curling up as tight as they could inside their disguise. They tried to cling close to her, too scared to make themselves seen again—but she was there for them. She held them close for as long as they needed it, the stability of her heartbeat and regular, warm touch bringing comfort.

Not the same heartbeat they once pressed their cheek against, not the same touch brushing through what used to be their fur—but just as safe. Just as loving.

On the other side of the room, Sundance was offering much the same comfort to her own child. Spark was hurting less because of what she was or wasn't, and more so because of having hurt someone else. It was an understandable, innocent mistake—but one Sundance knew better than to portray as such right away. The point wasn't that Spark had or hadn't done something bad, but that her mom was there to reassure and explain, in that order.

Comet was there, too, pausing his uncoordinated play with patches of fabric to snuggle in between the two foxes. Partly because of his friend hurting and him still wanting to help them out as much as he could. But mostly because his de facto aunt was very warm and comfy.

Regardless of each little one's specific reasons, the comfort they all sought calmed them down bit by bit, the presence of their guardians and parents soothing their hurt. Sue didn't know what to say to the ghost, the specifics of their situation beyond her capacity to imagine. Sure, her case was similar in broad strokes, but that was it.

Though... maybe that's all that was needed. "I know it hurts to not be who you once were, Twinkle," Sue whispered, holding them closer and looking them in the eyes through the hole in their disguise. "But no matter how you look or want to look, we love you the way you are."

The little ghost might not have understood every nuance of Sue's words, even with the best translation Solstice could provide, but they got enough to reach out of their disguise and cling tight to her once more. Even at their firmest, their embrace still felt like it was barely there, but that only made feeling it even more special.

A snarky rational part of Sue's mind pointed out that the wetness she was feeling on her chest was much more likely to be her own tears and not Twinkle's, but she gave that outlandish possibility no thought.

As both the hauntling and their guardian calmed down, the two foxes chatted among themselves. Sundance whispered something to Spark, the quiet woofs between them remaining untranslated but bringing them both relief despite that. The same couldn't be said for the lil' kit whimpering at yet another ache going through her body, making her curl up closer to her mom. For a split second, Sue felt terror grasp the older vixen's mind, a possibility so paralyzing in its horribleness it left her speechless—

And then, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by its almost exact opposite. There was nothing to fear, things would be alright. More than alright, even.

Sue neither knew what was going on there nor wanted to pry, distracting herself and the bagful of child wrapped around her with her sketch once more. Twinkle's actions had all but confirmed that this creature was how they used to look like, but with that in mind... did they still want to look like this? To be reminded of what they no longer were?

Ultimately, there was only one way to know. She tapped on one of their many tendrils wrapped around her. "Twinkle, do you still want to look like this?" she asked, tapping on the mostly finished sketch. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."

The ghost outstretched their limb towards the drawing, about to disregard their worries and tap on the drawing after all—before stopping in mid-air. It all hurt, and they didn't want to hurt. They wanted to be this familiar shape, the shape they saw in puddles and streams many times, the shape that shared burrows with them, the shape that played with them in the tall grass. But they weren't, and to some extent knew that they couldn't ever be again.

But it was still familiar. It still made them feel happy.

Maybe it could make others feel happy, too.

Sue held the ghost closer as they pushed through their hesitation. They then extended their limb around the entire page and the plank it rested on, pulling them in until they were wrapped around it. Their impromptu embrace didn't last long, but it was no less needed because of that, palpably soothing their wounded soul. Even after they had let go of the drawing, they were afraid of it being taken away from them, as if they would lose this one thread tying them to what they once were.

Which posed an issue for finishing it, but not a massive one. "Could I get some more paper?" Sue asked, carefully petting the bundle of ghost as she tried to memorize everything she could about her cobbled-together drawing.

Sundance closed her eyes to focus—and grumbled, posture deflating. "I'm... afraid this was my last page. Will a plank work as a replacement?"

At this point I'm just about ready to draw it on everything and everyone around to make sure it won't be lost.

"Sure."

The moment the thin piece of wood touched her hands, Sue got to sketching, copying her design one stroke at a time. Head and torso, small arms, triangular ears, openings for Twinkle to see out of, the ever-important zig-zag tail, their new face. Everything was there—now to finish it. Which... Sue had no idea how to do, and any fine details were likely beyond Twinkle's ability to describe.

Fortunately for them both, Solstice recognized the outline immediately. "^Ahh, I see. Yes, I've seen their kin around, though I do not remember any living in Moonview's vicinity. I'm so sorry, Twinkle,^" the older Forest Guardian comforted, extending her hand for the lil' ghost to grasp on their own terms as the plank was passed to Sundance.

Oh yes, the vixen was well familiar with their kin. Considering the circumstances, it was probably for the best to not bring up them having annoyed her many times during her travels, though. "I recognize them well, yes. Would you like for me to fill in the missing detail, Sue? I haven't seen much of this particular form, but I remember the broad strokes."

Sue nodded on autopilot, comforting the ghost in tandem with her other mentor—but something about Sundance's description still caught her attention. "Why not this form? Is it special?"

Sundance sighed. "Less so special, and more so well-protected. That is their hatchling form, tiny enough to hide in tall grass and even small burrows. Maybe their family had hoped there weren't any ground-digging predators around that could exploit their reliance on electricity for self-defense, and—no, that is crass of me to theorize out loud, I apologize."

Twinkle was thankfully much too focused on calming down to overhear, let alone understand much of Sundance's words. Sue still appreciated them greatly, though. The explanation brushed against something she had only seen very brief glimpses of in this world, and was eager to find out more about. She wasn't the most avid of readers, but the trope of a savvy, intelligent (and nearly always white and male) time traveler bringing the knowledge of electricity back to unenlightened masses of civilizations past was one she was well familiar with.

Alas, any ideas of doing so here ran into some fundamental issues. It was almost impossible to do anything useful with electricity without advanced metallurgy and a solid grasp on chemistry, of which Moonview had neither. They'd also need the ability to actually generate said electricity, which wasn't a given, even with both Twinkle's old form and at least one local villager having an ability to use it for self-defense. They weren't milking electric eels back on Earth for a reason.

...

Wonder if that makes electricity one of those fancy 'types'? Feels like it should.

Sue wanted to comment on electric abilities being really cool—but kept her mouth shut, not wanting to rub the ghost's loss in, even if unintentionally. To the relief of everyone, Sundance soon returned the sketch back to her pupil's hands, who then showed it to the hauntling clinging to her. Judging by them letting go of the paper drawing to grab the plank of wood, the vixen's sketch seemed to be accurate.

Of the noteworthy changes was the zig-zag tail and the outer edges of the ears being filled in with black, together with a small spiky collar around their neck. The firm lines at the base of their ears took Sue aback a bit, before she realized they were most likely meant to denote a different shape. Not exactly triangular, but more so arrowhead-shaped.

Those changes made sense, which couldn't be said about the circles on the sketch's cheeks. Was that intended to be a blush of sorts? A really strange addition if so. Odd as it was on its own, it made her think—maybe they could still add something to the outfit to make it truly Twinkle's? "Thank you, Sundance. Do you all think we should add anything more, something more personal?"

The question perked up the two women and Spark alike, shaking the kit out of her earlier gloom. "Oh oh oh—how about a nose? It doesn't look like they have a nose right now," she woofed, about to describe her own nose—before her mom stopped her.

"Spark, sweetie, to the best of my memory, Twinkle's former kin didn't have a prominent nose."

The kit tilted her head. "But why not? Won't it help them smell better?"

Sue and her mentors blinked in unison at the idea, their shared confusion prompting Comet to fill the air with a drawn out, confused squeak. "^Spark, I don't think that's how it works,^" Solstice explained calmly, trying her hardest to keep her emotions away from her face.

"Awwwh... but what if?"

Sundance chuckled, catching her daughter's attention. "Spark, I reckon it's best we don't try. You'd feel very weird if you suddenly woke up with a very different nose, wouldn't you? I feel the same would happen to Twinkle if we just... added it on."

Now that was something the smaller fox could empathize with, trying to not let it get to her. "Awwh, okay. But maybe something pretty instead? Oh oh, like... like... agh—*ow*—I can't think of anything..."

"Maybe the Pale Lady's blessing tattoos?" Sue giggled—and froze almost immediately, realizing how ill-timed her humor was. She dreaded to look at the other Forest Guardian, fearing her abortion of a joke had at best plunged her into sorrow and at worst infuriated her. Either way, a swift apology was the best thing she could do. "Umm, s-sorry Solstice, I—"

"^You've done nothing wrong, Sue, worry not,^" the Mayor reassured, her somber tone betraying her words. Sue didn't feel any better at hearing it, hand twitching as she searched for the right words to say. Solstice could tell, elaborating soon after. "^I mean it, Sue. I'm not offended, it's... *sigh*, your idea isn't bad—shouldn't be bad, at least.^"

Sue's attention was now firmly pulled away from despair, instead focusing on what her mentor really meant. She looked at the Mayor, wincing at her conflicted expression, her own shame clear on her features. Shame, worry, and indecision, the latter partially alleviated as Solstice glanced at her best friend for reassurance, delivered with a confident nod immediately after.

"^These markings should be everyone's bond with the Pale Lady; you're not wrong, Sue. That they had been wrested from the other kin, stolen by Forest Guardians, and turned into a graven symbol of our so-called superiority over others is—it's abhorrent,^" Solstice mumbled, chewing through many years' worth of thoughts on this very issue. "^To think they even keep it from their apparent allies, that they kept it from da—f-from Luneth, my father, because of his different kin... loathsome.^"

Sue found herself leaning towards the other Forest Guardian in her seat, nodding along with her words. This wasn't her faith, not really, and hearing Solstice's opinions on how it was being used and abused reassured her she wasn't somehow gravely misreading the situation. The Mayor needed reassurance from time to time, her expression twisting and threatening to withdraw into shameful deference—but each time, the vixen would step in.

Anything to make up for the one time where she wasn't able to.

"^And the things they use them for, the kinds of people they are bestowed upon... I doubt Solanum has ever uplifted another person through her actions in her entire life. And Nightbane...^" Solstice began, digging through her mind for words—but there weren't any. There was only ever a wound deep in her psyche, only a few dozen Moons younger than herself, excruciating to so much as acknowledge. Her face twisted as her hand grasped the armrest of her chair, anger building up on itself until it threatened to lash out at everything around—

"Solstice."

Hearing her name be spoken jolted the Mayor out of the traumatized spiral her psyche was all too eager to send her down, the fury that had already built up leaking out as tears. This wasn't the time for this; this wasn't something Sue or anyone else should be involved in. Before the younger Forest Guardian could speak up to offer whichever reassurance she could, Solstice continued, forcibly pushing past that mental hurdle. "^Their—their markings have only ever been symbols of allegiance to our tribe, not to the Pale Lady, not to anything she stands for. Hell, if we were to treat the markings the way they ought to be, as a sacred bond with the Pale Lady after earning them through virtuous acts, then Sue would've earned them more than Solanum and Nightbane taken together.^"

As the Mayor wound down from leftover anger and other emotions, her pupil could only sit there, stunned at her words, uncertain and afraid of how much they were truly meant. A part of her wanted her to elaborate, needed it—but the rest of her overruled it.

This isn't meant for me.

Solstice sensed the turmoil in Sue's mind—and stepped around it, no less scared by it all. "^Either way; is that everything on the sketch, Sue? If so, then we could head out to get all the material we need for it from Dewdrop.^"

Before Sue could answer, Sundance chimed in from her end, her expression betraying her worry about the exchange that had just taken place. At least before she shook it off, returning to her usual level-headed confidence. "I'd appreciate some more paper, if you could. Will come in handy."

"^Of course. Do you have any estimates for how much of each fabric will you need?^" Solstice asked, pushing through the tension in the air.

"I'd say... a piece of silk the size of both your hands, and four... no, five times that of pale yellow linen. Oh—and ground charcoal from Patina."

They had their impromptu shopping list; it was time to head out. Sue was torn between wanting to head out to get some fresh air, and hesitating to stay beside Solstice, worried about the reprise of their first training session together. One of those impulses was stronger than the other, though, and with the other Forest Guardian doing her best to push past that ill-fitted remark, she figured she could do that, too.

As Sue got up from her seat—to the immediate complaint of her recovering leg—Twinkle clung to her, no less willing to let her go now than they had been earlier, especially after their harrowing revelation. Neither did Sue want to leave them alone after all that, wordlessly securing them around her chest as she watched Spark scramble over. "Do you—you want to go with us?" Sue asked, hoping to Duck the kit wouldn't acknowledge the crack in her voice.

"Yes!" Spark woofed excitedly, only for her confidence to fade. "But... but..." she whimpered as she looked over her shoulder at her mom, afraid to leave her alone so soon after she'd come so close to losing her.

"^It's okay if you'd rather stay with your mom, sweetie,^" Solstice reassured, putting on a smile that was only partially forced.

"Yeah!" Sue reassured, kneeling beside the lil' fox to dispense some more affection. "I can't blame you one bit after what your mom has been through, Spark. I'll be alright, promise."

It was all the reassurance the kit needed, nuzzling her tall friend's hand, then leg, before doubling back and huddling in close against her mom, well on her way to join the drowsy fates of Joy and Comet. With one last round of soft waves and goodbyes, it was finally time to go.

To run away from the ever-gnawing thoughts.



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 29: Dissonance



The return to fresh air didn't have anywhere near as large an effect on Sue's mental state as she wished it had.

A light gust left her shuddering as she followed Solstice down the stairs, resting one hand on the wall of Sundance's dwelling, just in case. Her injured leg hurt a bit with each step, but she managed. Between the uneasy discussion at the vixen's house and the earlier scares, the ever-winding worries made it hard to focus on bodily sensations.

Neither Forest Guardian was oblivious to their shared troubles, either. And yet, they remained silent, hesitant to look at each other in their current state. Praying under their breaths that the murk coiling inside their heads would just slither away on its own in time. Anything but facing it. Facing each other.

Thankfully, they wouldn't be sentenced to a silent death march—not with the door to the dwelling downstairs from Sundance's den opening right as they got going. The younger Forest Guardian paid little attention to the movement in her peripheral vision, eager to get this done with as fast as possible. The older one, though, wanted to check up on the craftsbug just heading out of his house. "^Good afternoon, Kantaro.^"

The familiar name finally grabbed Sue's attention, redirecting it onto the bipedal beetle carrying a large chisel and several pieces of carefully cut limestone. His movements weren't as steadfast as the first time she saw him, but he was managing, to the relief of both of them. "Afternoon, Solstice," he answered, grunting as he corrected his hold on the off-white stone.

"^How are you holding up?^" the Mayor asked as the three of them got going, the memory of Root's furious outburst still fresh in her mind.

"I'm doing well. The incident at the Pale Lady's shrine may have hurt my pride and body alike, but I am recovering fast," he added, his occupied hands twitching as if praying at the mention of the lunar deity.

Solstice put on the most confident smile she was capable of, glad to have at least that relief. "^That is great to hear, thank you.^"

"The knowledge we have avoided the worst helps, too."

Sue shivered, feeling the group's attention be drawn to her at the beetle's remark; the ordinarily neutral sensation turned unnerving with everything going around in her mind. She nodded shyly as she held Twinkle closer to her chest. The tiny ghost wasted no time wrapping their tiny tentacles around her hand, squeezing it as strongly as they could. She mumbled, "Y-yeah, we have."

Kantaro continued, "You are a strange one... Shu-eh? Sh-khae? Su-u-eh. I suppose the old truth of the value of an outside perspective is no less true here than it had been back at my hive, though. Even if I would never have thought you fierce enough to stand up to Root, you did so anyway. For that, you have my gratitude."

The praise might've been veiled in stiff wording, but as far as Sue could tell, it was in earnest. She hadn't gotten any better at taking those over the few days she'd been here, resorting to a nervous chuckle and an awkward nod as Solstice spoke up. "^Indeed. If not for her, I don't know what would've happened.^" Her voice was slow, regret in it heavy enough for even the mighty beetle to hear clearly. Still, she tried to not draw any more attention to it. "^What's the status of the broken wall at Her shrine, Kantaro?^"

The craftsbug wasn't a fan of the clumsy misdirection, but the topic being invoked grasped his interest immediately. "To the best of my knowledge, it hasn't been touched since it fell over. As of now, I have no plans of doing anything with it, or moving it anywhere."

Solstice nodded absentmindedly, glad that at least that mess hadn't gotten any messier overnight. "^I see. How… how difficult would it be to put Night Father's monument back together, d-do you reckon?^" she asked, wrestling with—and defeating—her leftover discomfort with each word.

Sue watched as Kantaro moved his less-occupied arm closer to his stomach, rhythmically tapping his claws against the dark blue chitin as he thought the idea through. "Highly challenging at the best. Between previous weathering and the complex shattering, I imagine I would have to recreate a substantial part of Night Father's relief. Even that presumes the ability to repair the slab without the result turning unsightly or non-uniform. Furthermore, even discarding all the aforementioned issues, not even I am bold enough to deface Her shrine by removing the other half of Night Father's old monument."

Not what either the stonesmith or the Mayor wanted to hear, leaving them chewing through the problem in silence. Sue was the furthest thing from knowledgeable about the full extent of the grudges between Moonview and the night kin, but she figured her suggestion wouldn't be too controversial. "Sounds like you'll have to just ask Newmoon, right? I guess some of them will want a new shiny shrine, but others will just want their old one back, even if it's not as pristine as it used to be."

Kantaro nodded. "That does appear to be the best course of action, yes. I'll ask Ginger about it tomorrow after we deliver the supplies."

The change of topic brought the older Forest Guardian out of the uncertain confusion she had been in, forcing a shaky, hurried nod. "^Yes, that—that's true. About the supplies, what's their status with your team, Kantaro?^"

"Daisy has been preparing stone for Newmoon since daybreak, and the last I checked, she's still at it. She threatened to tie our limbs together if we bother her, which leaves us preparing lumber in the meantime," the beetle answered, almost sneaking in a chuckle here and there.

Sue's weary mind didn't appreciate the mental image of a blue mini-godzilla twisting her spindly body into a pretzel, hurriedly shoving 'don't bother the grandma rhino' into her mind as Solstice continued. "^How much stone do you reckon we'll have for Newmoon by tomorrow morning?^"

"More than we're capable of transporting."

The Mayor sighed—guess that was the ultimate limit on how much aid they could even hope to provide. "^I see. That's good to hear.^"

"In the worst case, we'll just have to make that trip several times," Kantaro remarked, his expression approaching a smile. "I doubt Granite and his team will mind much."

Considering how affectionate the builders were towards Ginger the last time they got to meet... yeah, that tracks.

"^Thank you for your input, Kantaro. Sue, we're almost at Dewdrop's shack, it's just up ahead.^"

Solstice's comment jolted her pupil out of her autopilot as Kantaro continued to walk straight ahead, towards the builders' current work site. Most of said group was busy cutting wood down to size, even the team members that rarely worked with trees. The sight made Sue realize that, even despite having not interacted with them much, she was familiar with them enough to tell someone was missing. The gray four arms—Granite—was present, the spiky brown pangolin—Hoff—was present. Even the gray bipedal rhino, their name still unknown, was nearby, chatting with Patina—

"Oi, Bedrock, trying to romance everything that moves again? Or angling for Celestica this time?" Kantaro hollered, his low tone cutting through the crowd. Neither his fellow workers nor Patina spared the rhino their amusement as he grumbled under his breath. Sue was uncomfortable with the situation for as long as it took her to sense that the now-named Bedrock didn't really mind, taking the ribbing in stride.

Guess a sensible chuckle wouldn't be out of line here.

As the two Forest Guardians giggled and the bagful of ghost attached to one of them grew confused, the older psychic realized there was someone missing from the scene. Nothing she would mind normally—the less she had to micromanage people, the better. Still, having anyone be missing when the rest of their team was diligently working on Newmoon's supplies was... odd. "^Hmm, where's...^" Solstice cut herself off, rocking her head as she tried to recall the youngest builder's name, to no avail.

It was only at that point that Sue also noticed the absence of the last member of the builders' band, the insect-looking robot that acted weirdly apprehensive towards Ginger. Even putting aside their odd appearance considering how little metal there was to be found elsewhere in Moonview, their past actions got Sue just as focused as her mentor, scanning her surroundings—

"Oh, Chisel?" Kantaro cut in. "She's... away, somewhere."

The four-armed Granite perked up at the mention of his crew member. He stilled the saw in his many arms before speaking up, voice like a rock slide, "At the mill, boss! Been carryin' all the wood scrap there for paper makin'!"

The beetle nodded with his entire body, satisfied. "That makes sense. That answers your curiosity, Solstice?"

"^Yes, thank you. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to head over there ourselves later and fetch the paper Sundance asked for,^" Solstice added, voice unfocused.

With the last question answered, the two psychics parted ways with the craftsbug, exchanging a handful of waves each towards the builders' squad. If their responses were anything to go by, though, there was one Forest Guardian they were much more enthusiastic about, and it wasn't the Mayor. Fortunately, the realization couldn't quite worm itself into either Sue's or Solstice's psyches.

Both of them were already full of other unprocessed junk.

Dewdrop's shack turned out to be larger than the choice of the name implied, though not sturdier. With all the walls made from long, thin branches weaved between wooden beams, it looked just about insecure enough to be blown off the face of Moonview with one firm gust. It wasn't its outside what the group was interested in, though. Solstice gently knocked on the door before backing off a step and a half, with Sue following in tow.

Having the opportunity to brace herself for the red spider's appearance helped immensely in preventing another freak out on Sue's end. The impulse to hit the legs once Dewdrop had opened the door and peeked out from under the top of the door frame remained as strong as ever, though. He greeted, "Good afternoon, Solstice, Sue, ...unknown guest on Sue's front. How may I help?"

As Sue looked down at Twinkle, realizing they've been holding her with their tentacles for a while now, Solstice picked up the conversation. "^Hello, we'd like to grab some materials for this little ghost here.^" She smiled as she nudged her head towards said ghost, Dewdrop's eyes narrowing at the sight.

"How curious. If you'll forgive me, though, I would like to finish my current weave before digging into the inventory. I assure you, it will not be long."

Neither Forest Guardian minded, with the Mayor giving Dewdrop an eager go ahead moments later. In the blink of an eye, he was out of view again, withdrawing into the depths of the shack—the depths that Sue's position gave her a good view of.

A loom the size of a car spanned the entire width of the shack, most of it filled with a silky white thread. Sue knew nowhere near enough to have an exact idea about how they worked—but Dewdrop did, and he was rocking it. The two rows of upright threads kept wriggling back and forth as he kept spinning and threading his silk between them, using his front horn and agile legs in place of manual tooling. The rough wooden frame on the edges of the loom gave him room to maneuver. Which he did, with his entire body, not letting the thread stay still even for a moment.

His busy and too-jittery-for-Sue's-comfort work was certainly eye-catching, but it wasn't the only sight to be seen in his shack. Off in the corner and under the floorboards laid several spools of material, the latter peeking out into view out of their sheer excess. An array of shelves rested on the opposite wall, its numerous bowls, bags and bottles filling the cramped space with a somewhat chemical scent. Sue really, really hoped the spider didn't actually sleep in here.

The last sight forced Sue to crane her head past the door frame to spot it; attached to the shack's front wall. A much smaller loom rested there, currently unused, and next to it, a contraption that reminded her of a primitive spinning wheel. It was being worked on by the green smiley-faced spider Sue had seen a few times by now. Not a definitive proof that they and Dewdrop were related, but it was a solid indication—

"Tassel, how's the last spool going?" Dewdrop asked.

A high-pitched, clicking voice answered soon after, "Almost done, dad!"

Guess that solves it.

"Good. Almost done here, too. You've done a lot today, I'm proud of you."

The smaller spider didn't answer with any words that Solstice could readily translate, but the repetitive chittering sound certainly felt happy. Unnerved as the two spiders still made her, by reasons beyond their control, it was nice to feel that affectionate warmth here. It, together with Solstice's reassuring presence behind her, made it not even that difficult to keep on watching Dewdrop put his entire body into his work—including the two... limbs on his back, their actual purpose unknown.

And judging by Twinkle's confused mind easing out into a silent focus, they were enjoying the spectacle, too. Sue's hand absentmindedly navigated towards them, gently cupping the bundle of ghost. The constant stream of stimulation made it easy to suppress the dour topic from earlier for that bit longer—

"Hello, miss!"

The cheerful, hissing call came from mere inches away from her, launching Sue into the most uncoordinated backstep of her life, avoiding falling straight onto her vulnerable back by the virtue of multiple deities watching over her. Probably. The mental image of the green spider the size of her head silently hanging from a thread beside her before deciding to finally greet her almost sent her into a panic attack there and then. But only almost, Solstice's hand on her shoulder soothing her psyche enough to avoid that.

Right, she had to greet them back. "H-hello there, uh, Tassel? Y-you—you surprised me a bit, is all."

The green spider nodded eagerly at the mention of his name, the angular momentum making him slowly turn around on his thread. Before he could respond himself, though, his dad stepped in first, clarifying the situation. "Tassel, this is Sue, the Forest Guardian I mentioned to you a few days ago."

Tassel's initial reaction might've been a couple of slow, confused clicks, but it didn't take long for the realization to come crashing down on him. "Eeeee I'm sorry! Are you okay? Dad told me a wildling cousin attacked you and I never asked if you were okay! I hope it didn't hurt too much."

Sue stared at him in silence as she processed his words. She was simultaneously touched by his concern, yet glad he hadn't previously asked her about her… experiences with their kin. Her first proper meeting with Dewdrop was tense enough, even with both him and Solstice doing everything possible to soothe her scaredy self. Having someone much younger, much more energetic, much less preoccupied with matters of personal space might've had her heart just stop on the spot.

Wonder if any of the electricity-controlling locals would've been able to defibrillate me.

Still, Tassel was clearly trying his best, and with one portion of Solstice beside her and seven portions of deep breaths, Sue had enough calmness in her to answer. "I-I'm okay, thank you. It... hurt a lot, yes," she muttered, looking down at her bandaged leg, "but I'm getting better now."

Tassel clicked his mandibles happily. "Yay! Why didn't you fight them off when they attacked you?"

A long, heavy silence filled the space around the shack, the question one nobody was expecting—definitely not in this blunt a form, at least. The younger Forest Guardian tried to put something together and think back to Solstice's pretend story for her, but to her relief, the Mayor had her back. "^She got taken off-guard, Tassel. It's not always easy to sense approaching threats when you're already dealing with a lot.^"

Sue held in a chuckle at her mentor's fib—it was almost the exact opposite, really. She remembered how easy it was to sense that beast when it took off after her, how starkly bright Spark's fear was. Sensing these wasn't ever an issue. Doing something, on the other hand...

Thankfully, the lil' spider took the explanation at face value. "Okay! Oh—who is that? Are they attached to you and sucking your blood?"

I beg your pardon.

"Tassel, please don't pry into matters like that," Dewdrop chastised.

The green spider shook his body to the sides, radiating worry as he continued to spin on his thread. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"^It's okay, Tassel—but no, Twinkle here isn't doing anything like that. They're just holding Sue,^" Solstice explained, simultaneously amused by how morbid the question was and concerned for Sue's increasingly weary headspace.

"Ooohhhhhhh. I see!"

Whether he actually understood what the Mayor meant was up in the air, but Sue was more than happy for that answer to put an end to further questioning. She took another step back and breathed heavily, trying to center herself with Twinkle's help. Sure, this little trip to grab fabrics hadn't been the most... serene so far, but she hoped that she'd be able to get her bearings soon and avoid adding further fuel to the dumpster fire going on under her skullcap.

Would've been nice, for a change.

Dewdrop was done with his weave soon after, giving it one last look all around before climbing off the loom and finally reaching into their makeshift storage. Sue tuned out much of the exact discussion of sizes and amounts, unfamiliar with Moonview's measuring system and hoping her mentor remembered everything Sundance had told them both. The two spiders worked together to measure and cut off the required amounts of materials. The realization that even their legs were sharp enough to effortlessly cut fabrics didn't sit quite right with her.

Around a square foot of un-dyed silk, four square feet of off-yellow linen, a thumb-sized roll of sturdy thread, and a couple of small dye pouches. If everything worked out well, these were all the ingredients needed to make one small ghost happy, the mental image warming Sue's soul. She wondered how it felt for them to be in a form like this after having lived their past life as a much more ordinary creature. Were they uncomfortable, deep down? Sue couldn't imagine them not being so, but she was uncertain about the intensity of that emotion.

Would they ever be happy like this? Would their external appearance being closer to how they remembered themselves help much? Would the outfit just be a metaphorical bandaid on top of a goring wound, momentarily helpful but ultimately only adding to all the festering sadness underneath? As with so many things, no solid answers, no way but to try their best and find out the hard way, and if that doesn't work, keep exploring other ideas.

A determination Sue was well familiar with, though which she had a hard time applying to more than the most urgent college assignments back in the day. Maybe that's what she needed, to focus on solving the issues troubling her—at least the ones that could be solved. And if only she had any idea how to 'solve' her thoughts veering into more and more unpleasant areas over the past few hours, she might've even tried to put her hypothetical solutions to action. But she didn't, and she couldn't. And so, she was forced to, yet again, distract herself.

Thankfully, an obvious tangent presented itself, one that was simultaneously apparent but which she hadn't really investigated much. How was she finding her own body after over a week? It was perfectly serviceable as far as basic locomotion went. Weaker and slower than she would've preferred when going up the stairs, sure, but walking was long solved by now. Or at least, 'solved' on a subconscious level, with what remained of her human programming having adapted to walking on two points impressively fast.

Even acknowledging that these were two points and not just feet, and that her leg anatomy was wildly different from what she once had was... unpleasant, but that didn't matter. Her legs were working, her arms were working, she could get around, she could fiddle around and occasionally embarrass herself with her psychics. She was entirely functional. How she felt about it all, how these feelings were affected by all the adjacent mental murk, including the very topic that has been gnawing at her all day—that was a secondary concern. Something to be pushed away with stimulation and distraction, swept under the rug until it solved itself.

It didn't matter. It couldn't matter. Because to acknowledge that it did was too painful to even imagine—

"That is all you asked for, right?"

Dewdrop's question provided a lifeboat Sue's mind greedily latched onto, shaking after being brought to the edge of a bottomless pit. She had no idea when exactly her eyes had grown so damp or her chest so tight, but that was something for later. Solstice's concerned glance in her direction wasn't reassuring, but the words that followed were, mostly because of their mundanity. "^It seems so, yes. Thank you, Dewdrop, Tassel. Apologies for interrupting your work.^"

The red spider shook his head off to the side, chittering slowly. "It is of no concern, Solstice. I am glad to help a little unexpected newcomer in need. They're certainly the nicer of the sudden guests lately, no doubt," he grumbled, the allusion not missed on either Forest Guardian.

The Mayor shuddered at the attention being drawn to her relatives, worry about whether they had hurt someone during their visit flashing through her mind. She interrupted her absentminded nods, sighing, "^Apologies. I hope they haven't been too much trouble today.^"

Dewdrop clicked his mandibles a few times, shaking his body to the sides in response. "If nothing else, they've at least been keeping their distance. Unpleasant as they all are, if they limit themselves to just snarls then they're not that much worse than the other reactions I've seen in Moonview throughout my stay here."

Sue winced; her mentor sighed. The older Forest Guardian was much too aware of the less-than-ideal treatment of some of her town's inhabitants for these words to affect her much. It was unpleasant, but said unpleasantness was neither new nor hard-hitting. Not anymore. Much the same was true of the Forest Guardian visitors, and Sue had already picked up on that—which shed light on an unsightly question. "Why not get rid of them? Solanum and the—the o-others..." she muttered, heart rate spiking near the end despite her best efforts to keep herself calm.

It was a good question with the same fate as almost all good questions—a disappointing answer. "^Not everyone cares about them as strongly, unfortunately...^" Solstice sighed.

Her pupil raised her eyebrow. "Even with them being this... unpleasant to be around?"

"If we banished people for being unpleasant to be around, we'd end up splintering into more groups than I can count to before the day was over," Dewdrop chuckled, the clicking sound not particularly reassuring. "It would no doubt be appropriate for that particular group, I do not disagree on that. I am not everyone, however. As many of my friends as there are that wouldn't flinch if I were to ask them to chase Solanum away themselves, there is an even larger group that simply does not care strongly enough. I suppose I understand their point—boorishness is no cause for exile in itself."

"^And that's without even mentioning the ones that still hold them in high regard...^"

Solstice's remark made Sue shudder, the idea nauseatingly offputting. For a second she wanted to raise her voice about it, press her mentor about which awful neighbors seemed it fit to hold Nightbane to a regard placed any higher than the bottom of hell... but it didn't take long for answers to trickle in. Both in the ever disappointing specifics, and in the broader groups.

Duck's chosen my fucking ass.

Trying to stop herself from getting any more upset about it, Sue just sighed, admitting defeat with a weak nod. The sight added another to Solstice's growing list of concerns about the younger Forest Guardian. Before either of them could act on it, though, Dewdrop continued the Mayor's point. "Or those that are afraid of them, even. I suppose it is much easier to just endure their visits than to stand up and do anything about them, especially with said visits being just days separated by years. Incredibly unpleasant days, days that occasionally make me wish that my kinmate who had attacked Sue would've waited a few more days for a better target... but still, only days."

"So it's just not worth the effort?" Sue asked, too tired for there to be any mockery in her voice.

"Broadly correct, yes."

The younger Forest Guardian nodded absentmindedly. As she stroked Twinkle's bag, the ghost shifted their attention from the shack to their caretaker, cloudy emotions turning to uncertainty. She doubted they were catching the emotion from her in the way the Forest Guardians did from others—that sounded like a runaway reaction in waiting. They were probably just noticing the changes in her voice, posture, even motions. All the things she could individually control when actively focusing on them, but which nonetheless slipped out of her the moment that focus ceased, or when it was time to lower her guard.

A guard that, despite having already been lowered a handful of times in the past few days, was still as high as it ever got.

"And all this is even without taking enforcement into account," Dewdrop smirked.

His words caught Sue's curiosity for just long enough to keep her thoughts afloat, naturally giving way to a question. A question that Solstice was already answering, telepathic words elaborating, "^Indeed. We've never had to descend into combat to enforce an exile in the past, and while I hope we'd be able to avoid it with Solanum and Nightbane... a part of me doubts. They may be cowards, but they're nothing if not cocky—even if they're acting on their own, without our tribe's backing. Their skill and strength wouldn't come close to offsetting the numbers disadvantage when taking all of us on, but I can't discount the possibility of them thinking it could. Ultimately, just yet another reason an exile would be a bad idea.^"

The pretend battle from a few days ago was more than enough to relegate the idea of an open combat between anyone here firmly into the category of 'nightmare fuel'. Sue certainly wasn't itching to even encourage it, but Solstice's wording still caught her attention. "They're acting on their own?"

The older Forest Guardian nodded intently, the fact almost reassuring her at least a bit. "^Indeed. Not for the others being any better, though. To the best of my knowledge, the rest of the tribe sees all this as an impure, dishonored family desperately trying to claw back their standing by either exacting revenge on me, or by taking Comet back. I'd say 'good luck with that', but... *sigh*. Best not taunt Fate.^"

With that desperation in mind, the threats Solanum had shouted earlier today felt much less harrowing. It was one thing to have an entire army threatening them with their deity's wrath; it was another to have that threat be just three people, only two of whom appearing intimidating at all. How much harm could just two people cause, after all?

...

The more Sue thought, the more she realized she really didn't want to see that question answered. She shook that idea off. "Back to the topic of exile—what about the Night Kin? Did they all just leave willingly?"

Solstice endured the hit to her psyche, only flinching for a moment before sighing, "^Thankfully, yes. I—I don't want to imagine what would've happened if they stood up and fought against that verdict, how many more lives would've been pointlessly lost...^"

"It would not have seemed pointless for them at the time, I presume," Dewdrop added.

The chilling theoretical didn't last long inside the group's minds, banished into the same dark corner of the psyche that held visions of the loved ones' deaths, be they nightmare or worse—memory. Sue was more than fine not touching that entire subject again for as long as she remained here, but... there was still a question on her mind. One that immediately arose once she'd tried imagining a similar situation in her own world. "Wouldn't there be someone to keep them from stepping foot in Moonview if they got exiled? Solanum and the rest, I mean."

The question drew the attention of the spider and the psychic, leaving both uncertain. "^Keep them from stepping foot in what way?^" the latter asked.

"If you can exile people, isn't there someone here who would enforce their exiles, or act when other laws are broken?"

I sincerely hope I'm not about to poison their minds with the concept of cops.

"I do not see why we would need that," the spider remarked, baffled at the idea. "It'd be an awful waste to lay all that on even one person, to task them with either doing nothing all day or with staring down their neighbors with a distrustful eye."

Sue knew full well that anyone in that position would end up doing much more than just these two actions, none of them good—but so did Solstice, much to her pupil's surprise. "^I believe I know what you mean. When they weren't fighting, the warriors of my tribe were tasked with 'standing guard against night kin corruption'. In practice, all they ever did was harass those less 'pure' than them and especially outsiders living nearby. Sundance has seen it play out like that on her journeys too, if memory serves. And on top of all that... we do not have formalized laws here to enforce in the first place.^"

Now that was something Sue wasn't expecting. "Really? But—but why?"

Her mentor shrugged. "^It's not a conscious decision, merely a fact. There weren't any specific laws when this settlement had started to expand from just being the dwelling of Willow's clan, and nobody since has seen it necessary to formalize a set of laws—and neither do I. We're doing fine without them. I'm guessing you—^" Solstice began before stopping herself, course correcting before Dewdrop figured out anything was amiss. "^I'm guessing your clan had a charter like that in place?^"

Her pupil nodded uncertainty, though 'charter' felt like a woefully inadequate word for the entire penal code. The Mayor continued, "^So did mine. It hasn't always had one, though. It used to be small and self-contained enough for tradition and social pressure to be enough to keep people in line, though that changed as outsiders began to move in.^"

Definitely not something Sue would associate with what she knew of Solstice's clan so far. "Th-they didn't strike me as someone particularly accepting of outsiders…"

"^They aren't, no. But their surrounding area was clear of predators, much more of it than they themselves could ever hope to use. Before long, other kin had thought to settle in that relatively safe stretch of land—and my clan figured it could take advantage of that. Take the traditions they already had, formalize them, and enforce them upon everyone living nearby. Tithes, offerings, deference towards their 'superiors', both Forest Guardian and of other kin my tribe held above theirs. A cudgel to be used against those deemed lesser, enforced at the warriors' whimsy.^"

Sue wasn't entirely sure how to react to Solstice's words. Sure, laws were absolutely chock full of clauses whose sole purpose was to either hurt people or to let the truly evil get away with a slap on the wrist. But to take a leap from that to laws being inherently unnecessary... was just a few steps too far for the once-human. "I-I'd be lying if I said that laws weren't abused where I'm from, sure, but fairly applied laws are more often used to enact justice on those that had done truly evil things. Maybe not always the most thorough justice, no, but at least some consequences."

"^Fair application sounds like it'd be a problem there,^" the older Forest Guardian chuckled.

"I-I won't say it isn't, but it's better than no laws—I think, at least. Like, without them I am unsure how does Moonview deal with, say, murder."

Sue's point got the two other adults thinking while the smaller spider and Twinkle locked eyes. Tassel was only barely following the boring adult conversation, much more curious about the kinda-bag-but-also-kinda-leech-shaped stranger. Sure, they might not have actually been sucking the psychic's blood—at least if what Mrs. Solstice said was to be believed—but they looked like they were doing it! And that was just as important! Looks were everything, after all.

Guess them waving back at the little spider looked unlike what a parasite would do, but maybe that was just another in their arsenal of tricks to blend in better? It was fun to imagine. Maybe he'd even get to befriend them sometime? He couldn't imagine what a parasite friend would end up being like, but the idea sounded cool in his head.

He'd have to ask about the stranger some time later, goodness was he tired now.

Dewdrop clicked his mandibles together as he thought. "How many instances of genuine murder have we had over the years? Three?"

"^Three sounds about correct, though I remember Daffodil's was purely accidental...^"

"Wouldn't that make it manslaughter?" Sue asked.

Solstice had to focus hard to translate the term, only arriving at 'unintentional killing', despite all her efforts. Under that definition, Sue's question was obviously true—but the mere presence of a term like that caught her attention. "^I see your language has a separate term for that.^"

Sue blinked at the remark, having a hard time conceptualizing there not being a distinction like that. "Y-yeah, of course! Wait, does that mean that the one person who had accidentally killed someone else received the same punishment as the two that did so intentionally?"

The tremble in her voice would've been amusing if the topic hadn't been as dour, forcing a weak laughter out of Dewdrop. "Of course not, Sue. We understand the difference—the two perpetrators that acted in malice were exiled shortly after, the other one... *sigh*, she eventually left on her own. Had an awfully hard time coming to terms with it or forgiving herself, even if most others were understanding."

That sounded unpleasant, indeed. Though, without there apparently being any laws here, the mention of exile still raised her eyebrow. "Who exiled them, without any laws?"

Solstice chuckled. "^Us, the elders did. We might not have an all-encompassing list of laws and punishments, but that doesn't mean we are blind to the necessity of any rules whatsoever.^"

"Do you just come up with sentencing on the spot, then?"

"^That's... an unflattering way to word that, but effectively yes. That's how it has worked since the days of Willow's clan.^"

Sue reached up to rub her forehead, not entirely certain whether she'd entirely missed the point earlier with Moonview's apparent lawlessness. "I—I suppose I don't know why not at least use those sentences as starting points for laws going forward. The way I've always seen it, the biggest reason for laws being formalized was for them to be applied fairly without being subject to biases or whims of the judges."

"^But does that formality lend itself to fairness?^" Solstice pried. "^A large reason for my hesitance is the inability to describe all the possible factors that could influence a fair judgment, even in something as simple as murder. It being an accident or not is just one intricacy. What if it is done in self-defense? What if it is intentional, but follows an extended period of abuse from the victim? What if the perpetrator was under constant psychic influence?^"

"What if the perpetrator was starving?" Dewdrop added, making the hairs on Sue's head stand on end.

All of those were valid points that Sue didn't have a single all-encompassing answer for—but what she did have was some scattered knowledge that felt appropriate. "I-I understand those concerns. I suppose thinking about it, the laws where I'm from were rather extensive for that very reason, to accommodate as many possibilities as possible and be fair with them. In theory, at least. I never knew them well, but to the best of my knowledge, every crime had a range of punishments as opposed to a single, fixed one, to account for the circumstances. I don't know—I know full well that laws where I'm from aren't ideal, but I still believe having at least a range of punishments to choose from is better than coming up with it on the spot every single time."

"^But what if punishment isn't the right answer at all? What if it would only make things worse, however reserved? I certainly don't believe there are no circumstances where it's appropriate, but it feels like too harmful a tool for many, if not most situations. Though, that specific point aside, I get your point about laws being ranges instead of exact punishments. Guidelines, perhaps. I suppose that is a good reason to have them... I'll have to think more on that point, that's for sure.^"

Neither Forest Guardian felt any more confident about their position at the end of their conversation than at its beginning—the exact opposite, if anything—but both felt good about having their reasoning be acknowledged.

Unfortunately for that entire tangent, Dewdrop still had some more thoughts to share, as well as one... unfortunate reminder. "Broad guidelines sound sensible. However, I doubt how useful they'd be for the most severe transgressions. The two murder sentences I've mentioned only happened after the crowds had already done their deed and exiled the perpetrator the hard way. All the elders' voice did was affirm Moonview's collective punishment."

...

Oh.

Solstice sighed. "^Indeed, that might be the biggest obstacle of all, in the end. It's one thing to calmly approach insults or theft, another to mediate something everyone will be feeling so strongly about.^"

"Especially when it ties into an already present prejudice," Sue added, shuddering. There were many, many more things to be said on this subject, of course. And, had she been feeling better, she might've even tried arguing for a specific position, however makeshift it was.

Alas, she wasn't, and she didn't.

The supremely uncomfortable topic of mob justice was the tipping point, finally convincing her to take a step back and recenter herself. Thankfully, Solstice didn't immediately notice, lost in the discussion with Dewdrop as the small rolls of fabric and other supplies in her hands accumulated dust.

Unfortunately for Sue, even her attempt to cool herself off wouldn't go without a hitch. A pretty massive hitch at that—almost tall enough to reach her waist, white and navy in color, and with two tails swaying idly behind her as she turned the adjacent corner.

Her outburst at Northeast had taken a step back in favor of other, even more harrowing topics for Sue to beat herself senseless about, but that didn't mean it was gone. Or even that it was any less unpleasant than it had been in the immediate aftermath of that unfortunate conversation. The young Forest Guardian shook in place as she stared at the psychic cat, fully aware of what she should be doing—solving that entire mess. The solution was right in front of her, so blatantly clear her brain didn't even hesitate before screeching 'GO APOLOGIZE TO HER' at full blast.

After all, she'd already done it once with Basil, someone she'd been much more viscerally scared of. Why not do that with someone that came off as almost comically harmless? Looks were deceiving and all that; she had no idea how dangerous Northeast actually was—but it didn't matter. She wasn't scary in a way the lovable-in-hindsight giant bee had been.

This was so fucking easy; the solution to this entire mess was just a few dozen feet away—and yet, that exact fact made it all the more difficult. Because she already had a chance yesterday to take that objectively correct, straightforward action, and she didn't. She was too much of a coward to do it then, and her psyche wouldn't let her forget that, reminding her of her past failures.

With each mental reminder, doing what needed to be done in the present only grew harder and harder—and that was without accounting for all the other insecurities, more than eager to cut in and remind her of Solstice's past words. Past words, past feelings, all the feelings and things unsaid that had been brewing between them as long as they'd known each other. They were only beginning to truly take form, terrifying in how alluring they were. A dream come true when imagined,

A living nightmare when used as an example of something she wasn't worthy of.

Because she wasn't, of course she wasn't. She was standing there like an idiot, on the verge of tears at the thought of the most basic of courtesies instead of going and finally doing it. She couldn't; she was too tired, too weak, too pathetic. Just what in the world would Solstice think, what would Aurora thi—

...

The emotional shift in the person she was simultaneously fixated on and terrified of shook Sue out of her anxious spiral. She almost gasped as she focused on what she was seeing, almost ran when she realized Northeast was looking at her over her shoulder. Sue couldn't sense any emotions accompanying that display, certainly no hostility—and yet, it was too much. She had to get away from there, and she had to do it now.

Without waiting for Solstice, Sue shuddered before awkwardly turning around on the spot and walking away, leg in too rough a state to permit even jogging. Nothing but a slow, pathetic shamble, only her and the ghost wrapped around her chest.

For a moment, she tried to focus on Twinkle as a source of reassurance, lifting her hand towards them and letting them grasp it as tight as they could—but even that backfired soon. It was one thing to take comfort in the hauntling's trust, but it was something else entirely for even that to fall apart under the crushing pressure of 'why?' Why did Twinkle trust her like they did?

She had no answer, and even thinking about it veered into the awful realization that their trust, their care, was unfounded. Yet another being she had manipulated into caring for her, yet another soul that would no doubt leave her alone if they truly knew just what kind of rot sat at the center of her—

"^Sue?^"

Solstice's alarmed voice finally snapped her pupil out of the ever tightening loathing—for a moment, at least. If nothing else, it nudged Sue to keep her self-hatred under control—she didn't want to subject Solstice to all the junk in her head.

Noble as the idea was, it ran into the immediate issue of Solstice being subjected to all the junk in her head anyway.

The older Forest Guardian wanted to say something, needed to say something, bring the reassurance her pupil so obviously needed. It wasn't difficult on its own. Mistakes happened; there was no reason for Sue to be so harsh to herself, yadda yadda. But then, she finally made it to the catalyst behind all those comparisons, the spark that had set the garbage fire in motion—and realized she had no idea how to stop it.

For it was burning inside her, too.

And so, the older Forest Guardian limited herself to weakly patting Sue on the shoulder as they headed off back to Sundance's dwelling in silence, their respective murk feeding off each other. It was the simplest thing in the world to just stop and be adults and go over what they were feeling and why they were hurting so much. Something that would've been, if not trivial, then at least easier in any other circumstances, if it had been caused by any other reason.

By anyone else's ghost weighing heavy on both women's souls.

Their silent march, only occasionally interrupted by a sniffle or by Twinkle's quiet whimper, didn't last long. Before they knew it, they were already making it up the stairs to the vixen's dwelling with lesser or greater difficulty, only realizing that Sundance had another guest seconds before they stepped in. And while Solstice didn't mind seeing that particular visitor... Sue wished it had been anyone but her.

The bouquet medic perked up as she watched the two Forest Guardians step back in, wrapping up her examination of the fiery vixen ahead of schedule. "Ah, greetings, dear Solstice—and Sue! I thought it appropriate to check up on Sundance considering her state as recently as yesterday, but since I have the opportunity... would you mind me taking a closer look, Sue?"

Sundance was presently sharpening what looked like a large needle with a whetstone, rolling her eyes at Orchid's concern. She was about to speak up in response—but kept her words to herself in the end, the ones responsible for that choice visible in plain sight as they napped, snuggled up in her fur. As comforting as seeing the asleep Comet, Joy and Spark was, Sue knew she had to respond eventually, giving up with a weak nod.

"Wonderful! Pardon my concern; yesterday was intense for everyone, you most of all," Orchid sighed. As she got closer, Sue sensed the hesitation in her. Too weak to be off-putting, but present all the same. "I have to say, your... display was certainly touching and effective. More flashy than would've been preferable, perhaps, but I suppose all our mistakes have to be brought to light eventually, and that was no exception."

Sue wanted to writhe as the medic examined her; the intent of her comment missed entirely with all the murk plaguing her mind. As far as her self-sadistic psyche was concerned, there was only one thing Orchid might've been referring to, a mistake Sue has had two chances to bring to light now, but haven't yet. Sundance noticed the festering loathing and Sue knew she had, but neither of them wanted to bring it all up. Not with Orchid around, not with Solstice.

Preferably never.

"You appear to be doing perfectly well, fatigue aside! Always a relief to see," Orchid exclaimed, genuine to the best of Sue's ability to tell. "Thank you most graciously for having me, but now I must bid you all—"

As unnerving as seeing anyone else pause mid-sentence would've been, seeing it happen to the plant-like healer of all people took those gathered even further aback. It didn't last long, Orchid soon collecting herself as she passed a concerned glance towards everyone in the room. While Sue immediately assumed the worst, resuming earlier beatings about not having apologized to Northeast, the other two women were keen to hear what was up—and their curiosity was answered soon after. "Before I leave, I must ask—have any of you seen or heard of Snowdrop's present whereabouts?"

Sue paused her self-loathing for just long enough to go through her memories, not finding anything featuring the floating icy performer ever since seeing her in Newmoon a couple of days ago. The other two psychics were similarly clueless, adding to Orchid's distress, however veiled. "Most unfortunate. I have not heard a word about anyone having seen her since yesterday morning. She had missed her practice session with the rest of her team, something I've been told hadn't ever happened before. I'm certainly not suspecting the worst, not yet, but... an indubitably worrisome situation."

A weak shudder went through the young Forest Guardian at the thought of something having happened to Snowdrop, especially with Newmoon's exile finally undone. She tried not to worry about it too much, especially with her utter inability to do anything about it or even meaningfully contribute to any eventual searches for her, but... easier said than done.

As was almost everything.

"I have hope the situation will resolve itself, still. Farewell, Solstice, Sue, Sundance."

Contrary to the hopes of those gathered, Orchid's departure didn't clear up the atmosphere any. Solstice wordlessly dropped off the crafting supplies, seemingly trying to keep her distance away from Sue as they both shuddered in silence.

Sundance's eyebrow was raised as high as it ever got, the tension in the air thick enough to carve with a chisel and uncomfortable enough for her to have to focus on keeping Comet from waking up. The vixen looked at Sue, then at Solstice, opening her mouth to ask what was going on—only for the Mayor to get ahead of her. "^I-I think I need to go clear my head.^"

Neither her friend nor her pupil commented as the Mayor turned straight towards the door and headed out, taking her share of dread with her as she passed by Sue. The two Forest Guardians didn't dare look each other in the eye, afraid of what they would end up finding there.

The words that followed helped little, woofed out as quietly as the vixen could manage. "Do you want to talk about something, Sue?"

I want to run until I can't anymore.

Sue tried her best to weigh the offer, attempting to distill the murk in her mind into a single topic she could talk about with Sundance—but she couldn't. It was too scattered, too festered, so sensitive to being examined that it threatened to make her break down there and then. Her logical brain reminded her she wouldn't be able to run from it forever, to which her emotional brain responded with ear-piercing screeching.

She was just too weak for that right now. "I-I don't know, I... I-I think I could use a walk, too..."

Her words were barely louder than whimpers, striking a wellspring of Sundance's concern—one the vixen got under her own control shortly after. There was only one person who knew when Sue would be ready to talk again, and that was the Forest Guardian herself. It was not the vixen's place to rush her. And so, she didn't, firmly nodding before responding, "That is perfectly fine, Sue. Considering just who's creeping around Moonview, though, I advise you to stick to someone as you walk, just in case."

The last thing Sue needed was a reminder that even going out for a walk wasn't as safe an option as she wanted it to be, but the vixen's point was valid. "S-sure, just... l-like, follow someone?"

"Yes, that is what I had in mind. Before you leave," Sundance spoke up, catching her pupil right as she was about to grab the door handle, "would you want to leave Twinkle with me?"

A voice deep inside Sue's soul cried out, 'NO!' at the idea, so attached to the little ghost that the thought of even temporarily leaving them stung fiercely. Said voice was being drowned by a waterfall of mental sludge, however, reduced to a whisper surrounded by a tornado of self-loathing, a tornado that was ambivalent about the idea. Guess it ultimately wouldn't hurt—Twinkle didn't deserve to have to deal with her like this, after all. "S-Sure."

With the ghost untied and passed over, too confused and worried to do much more than withdraw at the realization, Sue finally turned towards the door and left without saying another word. The spot on her chest felt weird, downright cold without Twinkle's constant presence there—but it was the last thing on her mind as the door closed behind her.

Because now there was nothing and nobody left to stop her from diving all the way into the abyss of her thoughts.

No matter how hard she'd been trying to not think about them, to pretend they weren't there, that she was just misrepresenting them... Solstice's maternal thoughts towards her were there, they had been all along. Bright and warm and anxious and conflicted, breeding further conflict inside Sue even at the best of times. Even without doubt and insecurity choking her mind, the very idea stirred dread about what her actual human mom would think about that.

And, even more importantly, what Aurora would think.

This wasn't fair to either of them, of course it wasn't! The former would've been devastated knowing her daughter just abandoned her like that for some alien, and the latter... would be *furious*, the kind of furious that stirred vengeful ghosts from their eternal slumber. Her mother, her family, her place in life, her house, all up for not just being stolen, but stolen by a clueless, idiotic alien that barely knew what was happening all the time and was woefully inadequate for the other half.

And that's without mentioning said alien also being too much of a coward to even apologize for shouting at a child.

Sue tried to think back to yesterday's chat with Sundance, tried to clear the mental hurricane for just long enough to figure out if all this was something she truly wanted, if she really reciprocated Solstice's occasional feelings towards her deep down—and she couldn't answer. Even with all her focus, the mirror of her soul was just too unclear, smeared by bile of knowing how unfair it'd be to her mom and Aurora alike, the mere thought of how hurt they'd be stabbing Sue through the heart.

Solstice herself seeming to grow more eager at the idea with each passing day only made that pain worse. Her remark about how Sue had earned the Pale Lady's blessings was a splinter digging itself deeper and deeper into Sue's mind, painful enough to where even acknowledging it drove her to tears. She kept trying to not think about it. To seal it away with reminders of none of it being really meant for her, reminders of this not being her world, her religion, her true body, doing anything in her power to just endure it until it finally left,

But she couldn't.

It hurt so incredibly much, this scar at the bottom of her mind. The pain was made even worse by knowing just how selfish she was, how unfair, how unworthy of it all, sending her physically wincing each time she inevitably ended up circling back around to that mental splinter. She couldn't stop it. She didn't want to stop it.

Because there was that tiny, battered part of her, deep inside, that did want it all. And Sue wanted her dead, wanted it all to finally stop hurting—

*rattle, rattle*

The nearby sound was loud and grating enough to snap Sue back to reality, distracting her from her aching body, bleeding soul, and tearful eyes. She watched the red insectoid robot pass by her, the woven baskets they carried in each arm full of sawdust and finger-sized scraps of wood. They paid her no mind, but she needed them more than ever. She remembered Sundance's guidance about sticking with someone before straightening herself out and trying to follow them. Where to, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

Lead me wherever you may, robot bug.

Anywhere but here.



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 30: Mercy



Sue didn't expect the bug robot to lead her away from Moonview, but figured it still fit what she had wordlessly asked them for.

The road was narrow but reasonably well worn. Not the kind with daily overwhelming traffic, but which was established enough to stand out from the surrounding grass and shrubs. Where did it lead to, why was the bug robot heading there, and why were they carrying all this wood in their baskets? Those questions were preferably for someone else to answer.

She already had her fair share of pointless thoughts filling her mind.

To Sue's dismay, a change of surroundings helped less than she would've wanted. She appreciated the most acutely painful thoughts easing up, but getting rid of all this crushing pressure, of ceaseless comparisons, and of suffocating inadequacy would've been nice, too. Alas, none of that—so sayeth her broken soul.

She would've appreciated an opportunity to choke said soul into silence, just like she'd done time and again. Alas, she wouldn't be finding it yet—for there was something else to focus on at the moment. Something just as silly and pathetic on the surface, just as threatening to shake her very foundations if she dug into it too much.

Probably not the best distraction all in all, but it was the one she was stuck with now.

As off-putting as Justice and Its intrusion into her dream has been, it was hard to deny that Its vision had left an impact on her. Even despite just how worryingly unclear it was. The basics were straightforward—she had been doing well so far, but there was still more left to do. Oh, and the stupid three-eyed thing had a chip on Its shoulder at being accused of lying, too.

The specifics were where it got... tricky, however. Tricky enough to where Sue was of half a mind to just discard this entire topic, just like she'd done after waking up. To consign it to the pile of 'deities being dumb'. Alas, her mind really needed this distraction. And so, here she was again, pondering the exact associations of the mental image of the fucking Moon falling down onto her.

Come on you dumb mortal, you simple pawn in our quaint game of Ludo—think! Figure out this oh-so-intricate puzzle of mine, dance for my amusement and do my chores while you're at it!

With everything they had meddled with, in her personal experiences and Moonview's history alike, Sue wished to never see another deity again. Both because of them only ever using her like a tool for their own means, again and again, and because of a... different reason, one that reinvigorated her mind to think about. Even if just for a moment.

As awful as Sue had been and was still feeling, her realization from yesterday remained true. She didn't want to go back to Earth. And even if she had a hard time thinking herself worthy of staying here right now, that didn't change her underlying desires. With that realization, she grew much more keen on actually figuring out what in the world that Justice entity wanted—and then doing the exact opposite. Anything to sabotage Its plans.

Anything to not have to go back.

Alas, her pursuit of optimal contrarianism was undermined by Its plans being incomprehensible. Literal interpretation was one approach, in which case she was already all good—no way in hell was she gonna be protecting anything and anyone from the falling Moon.

Mission solved! It was time to rest on her laurels and start thinking how she would spend the rest of her life in a mutated animal wonderland.

...

...

I mean, a girl can wish.

Sue's pitiful chuckle was lost in the noise of shuffling grass and distant, ever-intensifying clacking. By her own admission, she knew little—especially when it came to this incoherent world—but even she was positive her dream wasn't meant to be taken literally. Not with both deities involved in her task, and their villages, being associated with the Moon.

To the best of her recollection, the Moon that fell down on her at the end of that dream was full. Full, massive, blinding in its radiance. Downright oppressive, even long before it had actually crashed into—

The metallic insect ahead of her paused mid-step at Sue's gasp of realization. Their gaze lingered on her for one moment, then another, until finally the weird Forest Guardian got over her shock and resumed her slow march again, letting her impromptu bodyguard continue, too.

There was something—someone else she'd run into recently that had felt just as oppressive, after all. Three someones, to be exact.

The connection chilled Sue's body to think about, even after she forced herself to keep moving again. It fit too well, but its implications were worrisome, no matter the way she tried to interpret it. If Justice intentionally drew her attention to them, that meant they were important for some reason. Her imagination didn't shy away from suggesting the many ways in which their presence in Moonview could prove important, all of them tying into either murder, kidnapping, or—or worse.

Even with the Moon figured out, the question of what she was supposed to do about it, what she was supposed to do about them, remained. The answer her mind immediately gravitated to was simple—she had to stop them. Whether from all the horrible things she had just thought about, or from something even worse, it didn't matter. Whatever they had in mind, whatever they had come here for, they had to be stopped. But how?

If her earlier chat with Dewdrop was any sign, Solanum and the rest of Solstice's relatives weren't liked in Moonview. The same, unfortunately, couldn't be said about them being respected or worshiped—but at the very least, nobody was angling to be their friend. If the worst came to pass and they decided they wouldn't be satisfied unless blood did spill, they were extremely outnumbered. And that was if they got over the cowardice that Solstice had mentioned.

But what if they were to be stopped in a more abstract way? What if they had to be exiled, or chased out, or even just had their rotten ideology be questioned and replaced by Solstice's quote unquote "heresy"? Sue didn't know, and it terrified her.

Solanum unnerved her; Nightbane made her want to run and never turn back. The third yellow one, Solstice's father if she remembered correctly... she didn't know what was up with him, but he was just as suspicious as the other two. Solstice's reminder that they wouldn't dare strike while so outnumbered rang hollow as she thought back to Nightbane's predatory, hungry glare, the way he stared at her like a trophy to be taken after a successful pillage. Especially since, even if they would be ultimately defeated, they would still hurt and kill many before they'd be stopped.

And that assumed it would be just these three.

Sue almost let out another gasp at the realization she didn't even know if these three were here on their own. They apparently only ever visited in the past on their own and weren't thought of highly amongst their people in the first place, but… who was to say this would be like those past occasions?

No matter whether it was just these three or their entire tribe, she couldn't let whatever they were planning happen. She had no idea how to do that, or any confidence whether trying to be watchful of them would even accomplish anything, however. She'd have to drill into Solstice and Sundance and everyone she could reach to watch out for them. To make sure that someone is keeping track of them and knows what they're up to as long as they remain in Moonview, and—

...

And everything else that would ultimately only fulfill what Justice wanted her to do. That would 'complete' her task here, or at least bring it closer to completion. To bring on her 'reward' of being thrown back to Earth, alone once more, with this entire world becoming nothing but a hazy memory.

With everyone here ceasing to exist, as far as her continued existence was concerned.

The realization drove a rusted nail into Sue's heart, but she refused to scream. It... hurt. She couldn't even pretend that it didn't, that it wouldn't if she were to complete her task here. At the end of the day, however, it was her continued fantasy being weighed against the wellbeing of everyone else here, in either village or even beyond. She didn't have a leg to stand on, and she wouldn't even pretend to. She'd do what was right, even if it took carving her heart out to accomplish that.

It took immense effort for Sue to maintain her composure. Her steps lost their cadence, her clenched fist shook something intense; even the steadily building distant noises were making her jump more and more. And yet, she persisted regardless, keeping the hurt well-hidden, hiding it from the judging eyes of a single insectoid robot that wasn't even looking in her direction. It wasn't even about being seen, after all.

It was about having earned the right to that hurt.

A change in mental topic was in short order, but... there was one connection she'd realized just now, shocking enough to briefly freeze her dread where it lay. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but stunned silence inside her. As she was recalling everything she knew about Solstice's relatives, any shred of her limited knowledge that would help her and others stop whatever they were planning, a... peculiar detail popped up. One offhandedly conveyed by the fiery vixen a few days prior.

Solanum and the rest of her rotten ilk lived over of a week away on foot—and yet, they were here the very morning after Justice's warning.

The contradiction was stark, starker still with the most obvious answer for it getting dismissed out of hand. If them venturing all the way here was tied to Sue having showed up all those days ago, they wouldn't have acted the way they have. They disrespected her, sure, but she was just a footnote compared to all the ire and dismay they held towards their relative. They came here for Solstice, for Comet, not for Sue.

Which, of course, raised an obvious question. Why did they arrive here on this specific day? How did Justice know they would show up? Sure, Solanum and others arriving here might've just been a Fateful accident; the two facts could've been entirely unrelated, merely a stroke of cosmic un-luck—Sue wasn't buying that, though. Not for a second.

After all, Justice was awfully shy to actually name the deity that had supposedly brought her here—

*buzz, buzz?*

The bug robot's words snapped Sue out of her increasingly unhinged train of thought, bringing her back to the surrounding reality. A wild, terrifying reality, one that featured psychics and ghosts and beasts of fire, of lightning, of ice. Dragons, gods, and awful relatives alike.

One where the builder was staring down at her, confused, from approximately two feet away.

Their confused emotions were muffled, taking Sue aback once she'd tried to focus on them. Sure, not everyone expressed their emotions—or even felt them—as strongly as others, but the red bug's feelings were especially hard to make out. With most people, it was like she could feel their emotions by touch, be they smooth and silky or spiky and fiery-hot. Here, though, it was as if she was trying to do so through a blanket.

Or, in night kin's case, through a brick wall.

Sue tried to gather words, uneasy at the sudden confrontation. As they buzzed on to an audience of effectively nobody, their uncertainty steadily waned, turning into relief. By the time she remembered to focus on establishing a connection with them, however, they were already done, turning away and heading off in the middle of her makeshift ritual.

At least they feel better after getting whatever that was off their chest.

Embarrassed and not wanting to be left behind, Sue scooted ahead, wincing at her injured leg as she caught up with them. She didn't have to run for long, though—they had arrived.

The sizable clearing was split between a few areas, a few of which she could make out from its entrance. To her right laid what appeared to be a quarry, a wound in the earth stretching for a few dozen meters, showing off bare soil and light-colored rock at the bottom. A dozen or so blocks of stone were roughly lined up beside the quarry's exit ramp, raw and uncut. From the thudding steps and light taps, Sue could tell there was someone in there working on the next block, but her view was obscured by the nearby cliff.

Further along, past that quarry, laid another excavation. It was much shallower than the first one, only uncovering silvery dirt as opposed to stone. Its significance wasn't immediately apparent, but if the fenced-off stretch of drying bricks and tiles next to it was any sign, the 'dirt' was actually clay.

As nice as it felt to figure out where in the world all the neat bricks and tiles in Moonview were coming from, the rest of the clearing wasn't as... straightforward to examine. The last of its many attractions looked by far the most industrial, a complex setup of several water basins, sieves, piles of various plant materials, and free-standing, barren walls.

It was overwhelming, but the bug robot was here to explain it all—or at least to demonstrate what its purpose was. They first lifted the nearest basin from what had initially looked like a pedestal but turned out to be a charcoal fired furnace, and placed it down further along the clearing. They then grabbed the basin that was already laying there and brought it back to the furnace. No matter what this entire process entailed, Sue was... unsure whether having the water inside the second basin be as murky as it had been was a good idea—it wasn't her place to judge, either way.

...

Not competently judge, at least.

With the basin set down, they began to toss charcoal into the furnace, one pincer-ful at a time. Freed from her duty to gawk at anything even remotely interesting going on around her, Sue walked the last few feet to a fallen log beside the clearing's entrance, its top side being stripped of bark signaling its purpose. The small basket of goodies—mostly roasted fruit slices and thick crackers—beside it hinted at this being some sort of break area as well. Sue wasn't sure if she was hungry right now, but even if she was, there was no way in hell she'd be caught stealing from someone else's lunchbox.

Especially with that someone else being a six-foot-tall red robot that, for all she knew, was already only barely putting up with her stalking them.

The robot's charcoal-pouring duty was interrupted a couple times by them flinching at a particularly loud sound coming from the quarry. For the most part, the clacking of stone against stone had a steady, rhythmic pace to it, but sometimes it would slow down, each strike turning so powerful Sue could feel it going through her body.

Seems excavating all this stone is a lotta effort even with magical powers.

Even with the ground shaking and their hands busy, the person inside the quarry was still eager to chit chat some, speaking up before the next round of clacking noises began. Their rumbling growls echoed through the clearing, perking the robot's head up. Sue wasn't having any more luck with understanding them than she usually did, but she... recognized them, she thought. Where from, and what did they mean, she had no idea, but she could've sworn she had heard them before.

As the stranger and the tall bug chatted on, the latter wrapped up fueling the furnace, capping it off with a small bundle of kindling. They then picked up a couple of pieces of flint and got to work, chipping the stone and raining sparks over their body and the ground alike as they got some fire going.

It didn't take long.

With the flames building up and the clacking resuming, the bug turned to the baskets of wood they had brought with themselves. Sawdust was unceremoniously tossed straight into the basin, but the larger chunks had to be broken down first, unceremoniously crushed between the robot's pincers along the grain. Wood wasn't the hardest material out there, but the ease with which they reduced chunk after chunk to splinters with their bare hands was... impressive. Quite terrifying, too, but definitely impressive.

Even with all the wood added, the robot's job there wasn't done yet, however. They began making rounds between piles and jars of ingredients lining the edges of the clearing, scooping a pincerful of each material before breaking it apart and adding it to the wooden broth. Some of them Sue could recognize well enough—cotton, inner layers of bark, branches of hemp. Others were tricker to figure out, though, such as what looked like shredded rags, or an unknown white powder. They only grabbed a small pile of the latter, but whatever it was, it still stung Sue's eyes, even from a distance.

Suppose this answers why all this isn't closer to Moonview.

All the ingredients were added, which just left stirring the off-white soup—and calling for help. The bug's whistle was closer to a car alarm going off than any sound Sue thought could be made by a living being, but it was all the more successful because of that. The ear-piercing noise was followed by a loud call, finally beckoning the robot's assistant over. Unfortunately.

Sue held in a groan at seeing the pink bat scorpion yet again, putting her utmost effort into not letting her dissatisfaction show on her face. Sure, they might have apologized for Joy getting hurt, but if they thought that would be enough to get themselves off her shit list, they were sorely mistaken. After all, they still had done it, right? They still thought it would be oh-so-funny to hurt a little girl who could barely talk, to bully her so much their mere sight had her clinging to her guardian. Joy might have forgiven them, but Sue hadn't.

And she wasn't terribly fond of that fact.

As vivid as that kind of righteous anger felt, Sue was well aware she wasn't in the right anymore—assuming she'd ever been in the first place. Yes, they had hurt someone and didn't reconcile until prompted by someone else, but... was she literally any better? Hell, if anything, she was worse because of being one apology behind. She didn't have a moral leg to stand on, and she was well aware.

And yet, she still had a hard time not feeling angry towards them. She caught herself leering at them, even as they harmlessly talked with the robot before dashing off to the basin the bug had previously removed from the furnace. She had to forcibly pry her eyes away as they went on about their day, stirring the water in the basin before submerging a large sieve in it and giving it a hearty shake.

She was being fucking pathetic.

Thankfully, this time, she at least caught her thoughts before they could spiral all the way out. Good as coming here might've been for escaping from her self-destructive thoughts, focusing on the bat threatened to undo all that tenuous progress. She didn't want to, or even really could, make it back to Moonview on her own, which just left a stroll around the clearing. Away from the bat, away from the guilt. Preferably, away from her own brain, too.

With an exasperated sigh, Sue stood back up and turned towards the quarry half of the clearing, trying to focus on anything but her thoughts. The terrain here was much more uneven than back at the village, interspersing the already demanding walk with occasional grunts of pain when she had to put a lot of force on her injured leg. A footnote compared to everything else going on, though.

The intense, brief shock that went through the bat—no doubt at having spotted her—didn't help either.

Now that she was walking along the quarry's edge, she could actually make out the being working there. Good news was that she recognized them—or rather, her. Bad news was that she still remembered Kantaro's warning about not interrupting the blue bipedal rhino, Daisy, pushing her towards keeping even more distance between each other. Sure, she didn't want to fall in and hurt herself, but what she didn't want even more was to inconvenience someone else and have them grow annoyed at her. Nightmare fuel, that.

Still, that didn't mean she wasn't curious about how the elderly builder worked. Daisy's tools weren't as distinguished as those Sue had seen others use in Moonview proper, but she was making it work all the same. A stick of charcoal, what seemed to be a wooden level, a long, pointed rock, much darker than the surrounding stone, and finally, her own body.

Sue always wondered how blocks of stone were cut out from the surrounding material—at least, before industrial tooling—and the rhino was set to give her a demonstration of just that. The outline of the desired block was drawn on the stone in charcoal, the black line clearly visible on the light stone. Or, at least, the parts of it that hadn't already been dotted with cracks and indentations, both along the sketched lines and where the block connected to the surrounding stone. Daisy's chisel held steady as she hammered it along the remaining edges with her bare hand, each strike hard enough to either make or deepen the cracks in the rock.

Wherever she could reach, however, she preferred to use her all-natural tool instead. Sue would've guessed that using her horn for this would be excruciating—or at the very least, a recipe for repeated concussions—and yet, the builder managed without a care in the world, swiftly wrapping up the block's outline with a few well-aimed strikes. Her horn glowing throughout that entire process gave Sue a pause, but what did she know? Maybe that was the secret to her not shattering her head open with all the forces involved.

Fun as all this has been to watch, there was a walk to be done. With a deep breath, Sue refocused on the treacherous path ahead and resumed her walk, expecting the chipping sounds to resume shortly after—

*RUMBLErumblerumble...*

The world shook for just a second, but that second was enough to swipe any balance from underneath her. Sue shrieked as she tumbled, half-grabbing and half slamming into a nearby tree to remain upright. The rough bark dug into her skin and she was quite sure it had left a scrape or two, but other than that and the ringing in her ears, she seemed to be alright.

The trees had not failed her once more.

The alarmed noises going on from behind her didn't help, though. The robot bug's call was aimed in her direction, its harshness unnerving. Before she could react, it was joined by another call, one much more obviously alarmed and from much closer. Still remembering Kantaro's remark, Sue slowly turned around towards Daisy—and only saw warm, genuine concern on her face. Beside her, an uneven stone block, successfully separated from the surrounding wall.

Sue didn't know how to react, gaze snapping between the blue builder, her recent efforts, and her red coworker in the distance. She shouldn't be here and she knew it, the thought chilling despite nobody else being visibly angry or anything. What they were, though, was uncertain, and her lack of response sure wasn't helping that any.

Daisy knew what to do, though. Rambling on in her low grumbles and growls, she lifted her hand and beckoned Sue over before pointing toward the seat the Forest Guardian had just gotten up from minutes earlier. It was the clearest instruction Sue'd be getting here, and with the lack of any hostility—or even annoyance—she didn't hesitate before following along.

Once she'd sat down, she watched the blue dino climb out of the quarry and approach her, bestial laughter interrupting her every other sentence. It was quite a contrast to Sue's motionless, silent self, too stuck in a bind between not wanting to cause further trouble, being apologetic, and dealing with a metric shitton of nasty thoughts to even acknowledge the builder's thoughts.

Daisy didn't mind though—she knew just how to handle this. She grabbed the entire basket of goodies and sat down beside the fallen log, sending aftershocks as she impacted the ground. She then pulled out a hearty, pear-like fruit for herself and passed on a few thick crackers to Sue, before finally leaning back and relaxing some.

Guess a snack won't hurt.

The treat was much thicker than any biscuit she ever had back on Earth, closer to an unleavened flatbread or hard tack than a digestive. That didn't mean it wasn't tasty, though—not by a long shot. Salty with a hint of vinegar and an herbal aroma, the perfect junk food to turn one's brain off to, if only for a minute. And, alas, a minute was all that Sue would get before Daisy got to gesturing again, this time drawing a line in the air between Sue's head and her own.

Here goes nothing.

Pushing through the combined effects of her emotional discomfort, aching in her horn, and hesitation, Sue went through her little ritual, hands weaving through the air as she manipulated the extension of her mind. She was growing so used to all this that it began to obscure just how fascinating having those abilities was. Not something to ponder on here and now, though.

After controlling her mental tentacle with enough grace for Daisy to not even flinch at the connection being established, Sue took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, firmly nodding towards the blue rhino. "Hear ya?" Daisy asked, her accent clear despite the less than ideal translation. It raised the question of whether said accent was coming from her or if Sue's recollection of their brief chat was affecting how she was understanding the builder.

A question that would go unanswered for the time being. "Yes, yes, I can hear you," Sue answered, rolling her shoulders as she prepared to be... questioned, she guessed.

"Good! What with ya, girl? Not look like anywhere walk person. No light, anger, power like yesterday."

What was up with Sue indeed.

She didn't piece every single detail of Daisy's question, but the thrust was clear—and the answers were muddled. "It's—it's been a lot, *sigh*. I've... I've done things I regret, and now they just won't let go of me, and I can't stop thinking about them."

The hefty bipedal rhino pensively nodded at Sue's conundrum, raising her paw towards her chin as if to rest her head on it—only to just scratch her chin and chuckle out, "Mistakes ya make? Everyone make mistakes, girl. I make four, all days! Bad measure, rough cut. Much thinking on them never help. Drink, another measure, another cut, recover all can."

It was a delightfully simple response to Sue's worries, one that—had she been feeling any better already—she would've tried to take. But she wasn't, and she didn't, and considering the details of what she'd done, it wouldn't even be appropriate here. "It wasn't just some measuring mistake though, I-I hurt someone—"

*buzz-buzz?*

The metallic noise cut Sue's murmurs off, yanking her and Daisy's attention towards the robot bug that had since moved to stand in front of them. As Sue reeled back from their sudden presence here, the blue builder continued, unamused. "Nah Chisel, not good way. It—pardon. Sue girl, hear Chisel can?"

The Forest Guardian blinked at being addressed, connecting the dots soon after. At last, the robot had been baptized with a name, and assuming Sue could repeat her earlier feat with Splitleaf and Basil, she'd be finally able to hear from them herself. Another moment of concentration, another mental tendril, right beside the first one and aimed at the red builder. Reaching their mind proved much trickier than Sue had anticipated, tying into her earlier difficulties with sensing their emotions. She'd have to ask Sundance or... probably just Sundance right now when she got back.

But that was then—and now it was time to keep chatting. "I-I think I have it now," Sue muttered, keeping the aching in her horn at bay with stable breathing. "Hello, Chisel."

"Greetings," the robot insect answered. Her voice was no less choppy and compressed-sounding even with translation, but at least the mood and gender were easier to tell now—calm and feminine, respectively. "Realize you deaf me earlier. Correct?"

Sue reeled at Chisel's words before realizing she probably didn't mean 'deaf' in a literal way. That would've been... impressive to do on accident, if utterly terrifying and disgusting on every level. Maybe she meant Sue was the deaf one? She wasn't and hoped she'd never be, but considering her lack of reaction to the last time the robot bug had attempted to talk to her, she could understand why she'd think so.

"I didn't understand you when we were walking here, yeah," Sue admitted. She watched as Chisel took a deep sigh at that, her emotions muffled enough for her earlier uncertainty to have only become noticeable now after it'd changed into relief.

"Fortunate. Considering, then: Greetings again. I, Chisel. I, others, everyone—thank you, yesterday for."

The fluster at being thanked so directly didn't undo her worries or anxiety, but it shone beautifully for the few seconds it decorated her cheeks. The moment of thick silence that followed left her unsure if either of the two builders was expecting her to say something in return, sending Sue's brain wracking to come up with something to fill the air—

But Daisy had her back. "Aye, mighty thanks, Sue. As I saying Chisel—not good idea. If weigh good to avoid bad, no relief. Just hide bad. Just let bad get dirty. Dirty, nasty, shameful. Have clean it, have look it, have responsibility. Use it, not let bad beat you with it."

Sue wouldn't have even dreamed of using the arguable few good things she'd done to pretend she'd done nothing wrong. She wasn't the best person, but she wasn't that, and not a small part of her insecurity over making things right was to make sure she would never become someone like that. The messaging about pride being a sin she'd heard during the mass when she was little might've all been consciously forgotten by now, but its associations haven't.

And if only Sue's mind saw it fit to end that tangent there and then, she could've had some comfort in not being that person—but it didn't. Of course it didn't, it couldn't, because that kind of thinking was precisely a part of the problem. If she took relief in that, that'd just be letting her pride in being good once more offset her wicked deeds. There was no relief, no mercy to be found within that mental thread, and it hurt.

But she'd bear through it.

Instead of acknowledging just how far her psyche was willing to stretch to have another sin to jot down, Sue focused on another part of Daisy's answer, one far more unequivocally bad. "But what if you do have a chance to fix it, to take responsibility, and you just mess it up again? O-or you get too afraid to even take that chance, and the problem remains unfixed?"

"Hah!" Daisy chuckled. "Sound like another mistake!"

Correct.

"Which mean, have to fix too. Just another measure, another cut, again. Like any mistake. Look close, think what wrong, next chance. On, onward!"

Not the answer Sue thought she'd hear, and not one she cared for, either. It sounded much too... simplistic, dismissive of the underlying issue that this was about people and not slabs of rock. "This isn't about mining or crafting something wrong though, this—I hurt someone and I haven't apologized. It's not like I can 'just' fix that; I had my chance to apologize to her, and I blew it."

"Unfortunate," Chisel muttered. Off in the distance behind her, all the chatter was steadily distracting the pink bat out of their task, but nobody noticed—and especially not Sue. She wanted to continue with her tangent, wanted to put words to her fears and hopelessness, reassert that everything was indeed doomed.

She didn't get the opportunity, though.

"'Course different with people, girl," Daisy sighed. "Core the same—another measure, attempt. Need forgive you first, too. Nobody without mistakes. If want fix them, need calm and forgive self first. What happened is, ain't not-happening it. Need live with that. Live, breath, measure, try. Try and try. Better not anger at you, but if, then forgive first."

Was this really all the wisdom Daisy had? Sue clenched her hand as she listened in, the simplistic advice grating away at her composure. Wasn't forgiveness exactly how she ended up here in the first place? If she'd just tried harder and been more relentless with herself, she would've pushed through and done what was needed there and then, just like with Basil. This leniency, this 'forgiveness', clearly had only made things worse.

She grumbled, trying to keep what remained of her cool, "But that only makes things worse, right? If you just keep forgiving yourself, you'll grow okay with not fixing things and stay where you are. Won't it result in stagnation, in not caring about anything bad you do just because you can forgive yourself afterwards? I-I don't know, it just sounds like a recipe for becoming the worst sort of person, allowing us to freely hurt others before just absolving ourselves of everything wrong."

The other two women took a while chewing through Sue's words, the heady mix of emotion, imperfect translation and complicated topic muddling the waters further. For a while, Sue thought she had indeed 'won' the discussion, with Chisel turning to silence and Daisy heavily considering something. As much as she had wanted it to, that fact brought her no joy. Yes, she had won the medal for being the correctest little girl in the room—her reward was the crippling awareness of how much she'd fucked up for the rest of forever.

Sue didn't want to be right, not this once. She wanted someone to step in and prove her wrong, to hack away at her excuses and anger, piercing through them one after another before finally reaching the wounded emotions at the core. She wanted, needed to be wrong on this, inwardly praying for someone to bash through her contrarianism and offer her a hand towards somewhere where she wouldn't feel this awful anymore.

And Daisy was keen to deliver.

"Ya know, thinkin'. Sound like you focus mistakes. Not measures, fixes, but mistakes. It's punishment, from us to us. Makes feel awful. Shameful, angry. Imagine raisin' hand at yourself. Your soul. Focus mistakes is punish soul."

The Forest Guardian had no idea where the blue builder was going with this, but she had her entire attention.

Daisy continued, "Thing—nobody like punishment. It hurts, from us or not us. Nobody want, avoid if can. Focus mistakes is punishment is pain is not want fix, because hurts."

That sequence of events broadly tracked, yes. Of course having to think about what she'd done hurt. Whether that counted as actual punishment Sue wasn't as sure of—it more so felt like the only right thing to do in such a situation. But, what she was more positive about, was that it was necessary. It had to hurt, otherwise there wouldn't be any change.

Right?

Before Sue could put her doubts to words, though, Chisel had done it for her. "Need punishment occasionally," the red robot muttered with a pensive expression. "It shapes virtue."

The blue rhino wasn't convinced, firmly shaking her head. "Punishment from others? Not sure if, but not that about right now. Punishment from self? Nah, never. Look—all hate punishment. All want away punishment. Not want tell elders that crops trampled if get punished. Not want force out into rain in night. All the same when you, not others. Two ways runnin' away punishment. One good, but two common. One—you abuse self, fix mistake. Used hurt, now gone. Two—hide. Not look. Give up, hide, anythin' not look. When two, mistake never fix. Hide from us, from mistake and shame. Disappointment, yes. Mistake hurt, punishment hurt, shame hurt less. All hurt much."

Nobody was sure how to respond to Daisy's words. In no small part because she was clearly not done yet, tapping her claws against her bulky hide. After a moment or two, she sighed and continued, voice much more somber than before. "I say because I live that. Dozens dozens Moons ago, when Moonview much small, I... afraid night kin. Afraid, angry, awful. Not Root-like, but much close than want admit."

Sue stared at the builder wide-eyed, shocked at the admission considering how she had stood up to the badger last night. For once, she wasn't the only one shocked at the mundane events around her, the other builder's yellow eyes similarly wide. "...you?" Chisel asked, stunned.

"Ya, me," Daisy admitted. "It mistake, long big mistake. I watch, Moonview change. Everyone less afraid when Solstice here. Not me, not much. Still worry. Know worry bad. Bad mistake, hurt lot, shame lot. Hurt think, so not think. Only run and away look, forever. Moons go, others less afraid. Me still afraid. Afraid about afraid. Punishment thinking about afraid. No change, only hurt, only shame."

"Wh-what happened to change that?" Sue asked, leaning further in.

"Long talk Granite. Was afraid talk. Not want anger others, punishment others. Granite realize wrong something, listen. Hurt, but I explain what happen. I remember, he ask—'You want change?' Obviously yes. Then he, 'Sit, think about night kin afraid. No you anger, no you shame. Sit, think, accept you there. No judgment.' It hard, y'all! It very hard. He help. We sit talk. Eventually easier. Less anger at me from me. Can look at mistake without fear. Without feeling sin. After talking many times, finally can change and measure and fix. Only when no think 'I'm bad'. 'I'm bad' burn, paralyze, poison. 'I did bad' tells fix, change. It very hard then. Talking about very hard now."

Sue shook in her seat as she processed the admission, the lesson contained therein as straightforward as it was hard to accept. It was one thing to reassure others that just because they had done a bad thing that didn't mean they were a bad person, but doing that to herself bordered on impossible. And in her case, it wasn't even about her being a 'bad' person—she didn't consider herself to have done enough of either good or bad to think of herself as more than just 'a person'. 'Worthless', however... yeah, that tracked.

*click-growl-hiss...*

The unfamiliar, bestial sound perked Sue up, her gaze snapping towards its source. Her reaction at seeing the pink bat draped over Chisel's shoulders was much more subdued than when she first spotted them earlier, but it still wasn't exactly pleasant. Still, she tried her hardest to push through that subconscious emotional response—and instead, try linking with them.

Furrowing her brow and clenching her right hand, she pushed through the mounting aches as she extended the third link from her head. The first two grew treacherously weak as she maneuvered it through the air, tuning out the bat's uncertain, pensive emotions just enough to touch the underlying mind.

The attached body just blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation, getting entirely distracted from what they'd just heard. "Sorry I not hear you Chisel something distracted!" they squeaked. Their translated voice was surprisingly high-pitched for how boyish it was, and nowhere near close enough to adulthood to conceivably fool her like with Northeast.

Congratulations, you got repeatedly pissed at a kid—wait, no. I... I probably want to avoid thinking that, right?

The red builder was unsure how did the pink scorpion manage to not hear her with her mouth being inches away from his ears, but she repeated regardless. "Ultimately, apologize you?"

The bat nodded fiercely, "Yes! Apologize did but hard and Mrs. Splitleaf help."

As Sue squirmed under the pressure of her self-consciousness, Daisy just chuckled. "Ain't thing wrong that, Copper. Realize mistake, realize harm, take responsibility. You want apologize, afraid alone, asked help. Still apologize, all good."

The newly named Copper clung closer to Chisel, looking away with a faint blush on his cheeks. "Mrs. Splitleaf and Ms. Cirrus talk me about it. I mean and hurt and wish not. Everyone mean and joke Joy and I think can too and... hurt hurt hurt. Hope others not mean Joy now."

"Better others with time, sonny. Good you for apologize and think better, others time take. Believe they better get too," Daisy beamed, about to reach up to scritch the bat on the chin before realizing she didn't quite have the reach from her sitting position.

Unfortunately for Copper, however, Daisy wasn't the only one who could understand him in their exchange. "Yeah, I—I hope nothing like that will happen to Joy again," Sue muttered, catching the bat's attention. He flinched at not just hearing, but understanding her voice, leaving her worrying she should've given him a heads up about it. It was too late for that now, but...

It wasn't too late for other things.

The small gathering remained silent while Sue gathered words, green fingers tapping against white, thin legs as she stared down at the ground. A part of her didn't want to bother with doing what she was about to do, kept chiding her for 'admitting defeat' like this. After all, her original anger was right—Copper had hurt Joy and took his sweet bloody time before doing anything more than pathetically running away from her.

A much larger part of her didn't want to be angry, though. Anger was so tiring, especially one she had to forcibly maintain with so much time having passed since the original incident. She was under no delusion that he and Joy wouldn't be buddy buddy right away after something like that, especially with the scar still visible on the girl's maw, but... they didn't have to be. Healing was gonna take a while either way; what mattered was that he'd finally apologized. And if Sue could find in herself the mercy to let those bygones be bygones and actually meet the bat without judgment as an equal,

Then maybe she could figure out how to do it with herself, too.

"Hi, Copper. I... I'm sorry for getting so angry at you over those past few days," Sue mumbled, finally finding the courage to look up at him. "I can't imagine that helped a lot, and I only scared you a bunch..."

Surprise, hesitation, confusion—and finally, relief. "Oh! Thank thank... *click-click-click-click—*" the bat began, drifting off with repetitive noises.

"This gal Sue, Copper!" Daisy chimed in.

The bat acknowledged the clarification with a few rapid clicks. "Thank thank Ma'am Daisy and thank thank Ms. Sue!"

If he had "Ma'am"'d me I would've probably crumbled into dust on the spot.

"Understand I Ms. Sue. If all happen me then my mom would angry angry like you," Copper continued, almost short-circuiting Sue's brain. She wanted to deny that comparison—she wasn't Joy's mom; the very idea was... i-it was silly, and the more she could do to dispel it, the better. And yet, for all her wants, she remained silent, just nodding along and persevering through the warmth that bloomed within her at the comparison.

Unaware of any internal debate going on right beside her, Daisy continued. "Goin' back. True Sue, forever forgive can stagnation. Can happen. But if want fix, from heart, then forgive help bunch. Forgive allow help from others. Sometimes, even true want fix not enough. Need others help. Without forgive, with anger, others help hard. Very hard. Too hurt to talk about. With forgive, remove anger, judgment, shame. Without shame, can ask help, fix. Punishment and anger make shame. Shame make not want talk, want protect. Protect the hurt to pride, hide guilt. Forgive destroy shame."

After flicking her fingers a few more times, the builder had just the thing in mind to cap her point off with. "Forever forgive can stagnation. Forever punishment, forever shame will stagnation. Forgive not hide responsibility—allow it. Allow overcome shame, fix."

As much as that kneejerk part of her still wanted to argue against that, to insist that she should be angry at herself and not let herself rest over this... it didn't have the strength to do so anymore. Not now. They might've taken a bit of interpretation to truly grasp, but Sue wanted to take Daisy's words to heart. Of course, even with them, even with that temporary balm of forgiveness of someone else's making, her mind still wasn't clear of everything that plagued it—and she knew it.

The situation with Northeast was messed up, but if it had been just that, Sue guessed she would've been able to apologize earlier today. And yet, she didn't. There was more to it, a Forest Guardian-shaped scar in her mind that covered up another, much larger, person-shaped scar. The latter one was all but invisible for now, and the former still hurt to acknowledge, but at least now she felt like she was capable of it.

The chat with Daisy didn't fix everything, but at least it left her feeling well enough to ask for help towards fixing things, be they with Northeast or Aurora. Even with the road ahead more visible now, it still wouldn't be as straightforward as she would've wished for.

"If only it was this easy..." Sue sighed.

"Ha! Never easy. Not even when help. If try try try, at last succeed, girl. How feel, Sue? Better?" Daisy asked, giving the Forest Guardian a modest smile at seeing her straighten her back at least somewhat.

Sue returned the expression. "I'm better, yeah. I still have a lot on my mind, but it feels more feasible now. It's also probably something I should talk about with someone else, heh. Thank you, Daisy, Chisel, C-Copper."

"Anytime, girl!"

"Much appreciated."

"Thank for talking Ms. Sue! Oh!" Copper perked up, drawing Chisel's attention right as she was about to turn around and head back to the basin-ful of boiling something. "Can tell Joy hope I she better?"

"O-of course, Copper!" Sue answered, her earlier smile blossoming as she kept a single annoying tear from leaking out. The bat chirped happily in response, the sound high enough to peak into ultrasound and slipping out of her mental translation—assuming it was supposed to be understood as words to begin with. With all the reassurance she could reasonably expect, Sue stood up and took a deep breath, earning herself a couple pats on the back right as Daisy got up and began to head back to the quarry. She just barely avoided losing her balance this time, netting both herself and the rhino a chuckle—followed by a realization. "Um—Daisy?"

"Yah?"

"Would you mind escorting me back to Moonview? I-I know there's a path here, but... uh—"

"'Course!" Daisy cut through Sue's uncertainty about how to word the current situation. "Not fret, Sue. More stone than need half Moon. Grab snack, three. Ready go now?"

No point in delaying it.

"Yeah!"

She had some well-wishes to pass on, after all.



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Also check out my other story, From the Vast!​
 


Chapter 31: Descent



The walk back to Sundance's dwelling was largely spent in silence, to Sue's relief. She greatly appreciated Daisy's help, the new perspective to chew through her mental murk with, but couldn't deny that having to put so much effort into just making sense of her words was draining. And that's without even mentioning all the digging through her emotions the topic of conversation demanded.

Instead, both of them got to enjoy silence and clean air. The blue rhino didn't linger for long after the yellowish sandstone of Sundance's roof came into view. Instead, she patted Sue's shoulder from behind to catch her attention and spoke, pointing at the tall building, "Sue girl! Here where want go?"

Sue's firm nod was confirmation enough. "Y-yes, that's here. Thank you for talking with me, Daisy."

"Not worry! Glad help. Need walk anyway. Safe be!" Daisy laughed. After patting Sue's back a couple more times—which Sue finally endured without losing her balance—she turned around and headed out, towards where the other builders were working.

As Sue made her way through the last stretch towards and up the stairs to Sundance's home, worries refused to leave her. Everything going on in her head had been merely subdued, far from excised, and she was acutely aware. She knew she'd have to keep talking—or at least, that she should talk to the vixen once she got back—but the thought of that still intimidated her.

And the worst thing was that she didn't know why.

Sundance hadn't been anything but helpful in all their conversations so far, be they about Moonview's history or what might be going on in her head. Sue knew she could trust her, that the vixen was likely the most capable person here for helping her process those feelings, but... that didn't make said feelings any less scary. The opposite, even. They've been perfectly content remaining quiet and digging away at her confidence in silence, and hurt now that any attention had been placed upon them. And that was just from her own surface thoughts! Sundance might not have been the most keen on using flames as a solution to all problems, but boy could she shine a light at all the bile in her head.

Sue wasn't even sure if she could be helped. She felt just about confident enough to try, but doubted said confidence would last long. Either way, that had to wait for a bit longer—she was there. She had to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun as she made it up the last few steps, about to push on the door before her—

But then; she heard a familiar, if distressing, sound from the inside.

She brought her head to the ajar door, peeking in at what was going on as she listened to Joy's distress. To the best of her ability to make out, everyone else was feeling perfectly alright in both looks and feelings alike. Sundance was still lying on a couple pillows, drawing sketches both on the stone floor and whichever scraps of wood were lying around. Twinkle was happily accompanying her in that, and so was Comet; the latter's excitable scribbles interrupted at Joy's unrest. Spark was comfortably snuggled into her mom, woofing quietly at the metal girl. Joy was a few paces away from all of them, facing them with an uneasy expression as her maw shuddered.

As much as it hurt to see Joy scared, Sue was hesitant to step in—the last thing she wanted to do was startle her further. And yet, it looked like there wasn't another way of handling that, not with the girl only growing more and more upset by the moment. She was tired; she was confused, and more than anything she was scared—and Sundance's words weren't helping, despite the vixen's clear effort. Neither was Spark's help once the kit had tried to slowly approach the girl with concern in her woofs, only prompting louder cries from the toothy tyke.

Once Joy's shudders had turned into scared squeaks and her maw lifted from its idle position behind her, though, the Forest Guardian knew she had to do something, even if the sight and sound of those metal teeth rattling together still intimidated her. Waiting no further, Sue knocked on the door and stepped in, not even having the time to speak up before Joy was already racing towards her, whimpering as she clung to her good leg.

Something bad had clearly happened here, but figuring out what exactly could wait.

C'mere, sweetie.

Pushing through the aching in her leg and horn alike, Sue kneeled and picked up the crying, frightened child into her arms. She held her tight as she walked to the chair she sat in last time, taking her time in case walking closer to others would spook Joy further. Fortunately, it didn't. The girl was much too focused on clinging to her guardian to notice much of her surroundings anymore.

Just a few feet away, all the scary noise and the return of their guardian had pulled Twinkle away from their own drawing. They shuddered in place, confused and withdrawing their tentacles into the confines of their bag. Sue continued to whisper reassurances to Joy as she watched for the little ghost under her care, passing Sundance a concerned look. Seeing the vixen be as uncertain as she was didn't help any, but at least the scene was finally down.

As spooked as Twinkle was, they thankfully only needed a small nudge to scramble to their guardian. With a gentle tap and a quiet whisper from the older vixen in the room, they outstretched their tentacles again and scooted towards Sue, picking up the pace with each little dash. Behind them, Spark followed too, mindful enough to limit herself to laying beside Sue's leg instead of joining the other kids on her lap.

Despite all the tension moments prior, things seemed to be in the clear. Even more so once the bundle of ghost had joined the toothy girl on Sue's lap, pressing into her torso. She knew of no mental magic that could help them calm faster, but steady breaths while being held by someone trustworthy were a foolproof cure for that already. And, especially in Joy's case, there was another thing she could do, unnerving as it still was.

Scared or not, there was a girl to comfort, and the worst of her fear was already behind her. Nothing bad should happen if she'd just—

Sue was anticipating the tip of Joy's maw to grab her hand again, but she certainly didn't expect that to happen before she'd even touched it. It was briefly startling, but the shift in the girl's emotions was immediate, her whimpers ceasing basically instantly.

One toothy tyke clinging to one side—check. One bundle of ghost wrapped tight around her other side—check.

One messy situation she'd walked in on but which was now easing up, check.

With Sue's right hand temporarily immobilized, the left one had to pick up the slack. It moved between all the gathered heads, bags and maws, cooling off a bit of the turbulent emotions with each touch. All that was missing were words, something that Sundance would help immensely with.

"Sundance?" Sue whispered, perking both kids' heads. "Could you—"

The vixen nodded. "Done, worry not. It's good to see you back, Sue. I apologize for such a situation awaiting you."

Joy clung tighter as she heard Sundance's words, the small pang of negative emotion not missed on either psychic. "What happened, though?" the Forest Guardian asked, more stunned than accusatory.

"Joy woke up a few minutes ago and was scared to see you not be here," the vixen explained. "I tried to calm her down afterwards, but I... mishandled it, to say the least. I'm sorry, Joy. I didn't mean to scare you."

The metal girl listened intently to the woofed words, their contents much more understandable now that fright wasn't gripping her mind anymore. As scary as this situation was, if unintentionally, her big friend and guardian was here now, and that's all that mattered.

And said guardian wanted to help, too. "I'm here Joy, I'm here. You got scared bad, didn't you?" Silence filled the room for a few moments as the girl processed the questions, calming down as she responded with a handful of quiet nods. Sue continued, "That bad man from before we got here scared you bad and it hurt, and I'm very sorry."

Judging by Joy's whimper at the mere mention of these events, she might've just nailed it. The sound, compared with the flash of terror, left Comet startled as well. He put down his little drawing before scrambling towards the nearest adult, the worst of the fear not lasting long before Sundance's warmth melted through it. Sue smiled weakly at his antics, and at the confirmation of her hunch.

Still, as much as acknowledging what had happened helped, it wasn't an immediate cure by itself. Sue continued her silent reassurance—that Joy was seen, that her emotions were normal and justified. And, a few moments later, that she was safe. "I'm here for you, Joy. You're safe here, I promise."

"I-I-I... safe," Joy whimpered, more so to herself than to anyone else. Sue had to keep a grip on herself to not startle her with a tight hug, whole body yearning to comfort the girl as much and as fast as it could. Alas, had to take it easy. The progress they've already had was plenty reassuring.

"Yes, you're safe, Joy. And so are you, Twinkle. I'm sorry about what happened earlier. A bad man scared and hurt us, but he's not here anymore. We're safe," Sue continued, spreading some of her affection to the little ghost. She cursed herself quietly for overlooking them until now and only focusing her efforts on Joy, but on a rational level, she knew such slip-ups were expected. Especially since Twinkle's method of expressing fear was quiet withdrawal as opposed to panicked whimpers.

Something, something, forgive myself. Let's stop distracting myself any further with my nonsense.

Addressing the elephant in the room helped, but the reassurance took its time to fully worm itself in. The brief splashes of fear in both kids' psyche at being reminded of the event took Sue aback. For a few long, terrifying moments, she wondered whether she had made a grave mistake by bringing it up, whether she shouldn't have just waited until they forgot it on their own. Thankfully, the distress didn't last long once her words caught up with the kids' memories—even if Joy's little mind wasn't quite done with getting over its recent scare after waking up.

But Sue was here. They were safe with her. She loved them; she was their guardian; she was there for them. She was their—

"I'm sorry for not being here when you woke up, Joy," Sue continued, sensing that lingering thread in her mind. "I was..." she drifted off, torn between wanting to keep them in the loop and not spilling any of her muck onto them. "I was feeling bad too, and I wanted to be alone for a while."

Sue monitored both kids' emotions as she provided her simplified explanation, keeping watch of anything bad creeping into their minds again. So far, so good. "I was feeling bad, but it wasn't because of you, I promise. I love you both, and I want to be here for you as much as I can." Continued success; no fear or self-consciousness yet. That's not to say that her words didn't elicit any emotion in the young listeners, though, taking their guardian aback as the leftovers of their fear turned into a desire to comfort.

Their—their guardian was feeling bad. And they didn't want her to feel bad.

One breath, two breaths, any expression of emotion more intense than a wobbly smile averted—Sue could continue. She was about to do so even—before a quiet, harsh voice caught her attention first. "H-hope good you..." Joy spoke, her words the clearest ones Sue had heard yet.

It sure didn't help with making her smile even wobblier, ha.

"I'm feeling good now, thank you Joy," Sue beamed. With the topic having swung around to something more positive, Sue was keen to get the most out of it, continuing, "There are other people out there that helped me calm down and feel better. Just like there are others that want to help you, too, because I won't always be here," she added.

Both kids reacted by clinging to her that bit closer, each processing their own brief pangs of fear at the reminder that Sue was her own person and, as such, lived her own life. It was unfair! Sue made them feel safe, and they didn't want to feel unsafe. They wanted her to always be there for them. The selfish thought lingered in both their minds, but was weakened soon after by the reassurance that came afterwards.

"I-I know it's scary when I'm not here. But~, there are many people you can trust and that will keep you safe even if I'm not here." Direct as that reassurance was, it could only do so much—even once it was accompanied with an example. "Sundance will look after you when I'm not here. I know she might look a bit scary and unfamiliar, but she's a friend. You can trust her."

"Yeah! Y-you can trust mom! *Ow,*" Spark added happily. The older vixen herself remained quiet at the shout out, holding her chuckles in as she just opted to wave at the pair of kids on Sue's lap. Comet, being Comet, joined in on the waving, underlining the fun gesture with a drawn-out squeak that sent the rest of the room giggling.

Sue kept her hand on the pulse of the two little ones, literal and emotional alike. She'd been keeping them calm enough so far, especially with Spark and Comet's help, but was worrying about how much she'd actually end up accomplishing. Especially since, as her brain murk was eager to point out, their fears were right to an extent. Not about them being unsafe without her specifically, but rather being unsafe whether she was there or not.

Postured as she may about keeping them safe and being there for them, once push came to shove earlier today, once it was just her, them, and someone that wanted to hurt them—what did she even do? Nothing; she just stood there paralyzed, just like Joy. She was supposed to be their guardian, someone they could trust for more than just idle words about being loved and safe, trust that she'd be able to back up her words with actions. But she couldn't.

She was just too weak. She could and should be doing more to protect them, but for that, she had to get stronger. Strong enough to keep them safe from Nightbane; from Solanum; from everyone who'd ever hurt them; from them, the bad people that only wanted to hurt the ones she loved—

No, stop.

Before Sue knew it, it was her heart that was racing the hardest of everyone around. She held the two little ones that bit closer as she calmed down, immensely relieved that neither of them noticed her turn for the worse. Joy was conflicted between wanting to follow Sue's words and trust the big vixen, and still feeling just a bit too spooked to do so. Twinkle, however, seemed to have entirely calmed down. Though with their mind feeling more like a glowing cloud than a single point of light, it was quite hard to tell.

There were a couple more things she could say and do to help them further in feeling better, too. Sliding her free hand under Joy's seat, Sue gently lifted her into her arms, all the while tilting the elbow of her other hand for Twinkle to grab onto to pull themselves closer to her heartbeat. It took a while for the ghost to notice, but once both kids had shifted to a closer position, the effect was almost immediate, if slight.

She wasn't done yet, though.

"I'm proud of you for staying here while I was away," she beamed, feeling Twinkle's spectral embrace loosen a bit. "And even if you got a bit scared, that's all good, too. I'm so, so proud of both of you."

For the first time since she got back, Sue saw a smile creep its way onto Joy's face. Before she even knew it, it had reflected onto her face too, bright and proud as the girl relaxed—and Twinkle concentrated. Moving the hand of the arm that held Joy closer to the lil' ghost, Sue carefully stroked the fabric of their bag, giving them all the time they needed to put their thoughts together. Sundance focused alongside them, soon putting words to Twinkle's ethereal feelings—

"C-c-can stay here?" Joy cut in, oblivious to what was happening less than a foot away from her. Her high-pitched squeaks and growls cut the vixen off and sent Sue giggling—both at the badly timed words and what they implied. She didn't mind Joy sitting on her lap one bit, but having the girl be asking for that while still holding onto her hand with the tip of her very toothy maw was... amusing. Suppose that was just such a natural thing for her, she didn't even realize anyone else could mind.

Adorable.

The best kind of amusing, lighting Sue's face up as she nodded firmly and answered, "Of course! Stay here as long as you want, Joy. We're not rushing anywhere." Obvious as the answer was, Joy appreciated it being stated out loud all the same. She wasn't feeling tired, but wanted to wait some more before trying to engage with the world around her, and neither of the adults around minded.

Neither did the other kids, for that matter. "Yeah! I hope you're feeling better—*ow*—Joy!" Spark woofed out, putting on her brightest smile before withdrawing into her mom's comforting presence. Guess if Joy wouldn't be joining them soon, there was no point to her friend waiting there just in case—especially while still feeling so crummy.

Alas, said crumminess persevered, even with Comet dropping everything he was doing to squeeze all he could reach of the younger vixen, hoping to make her feel better. Mission accomplished, if not the intended way.

While Joy got her bearings in silence, it was time to focus on her fellow little one. Sue resumed her affection of Twinkle's bag as she whispered, "Did you want to say something, Twinkle?"

Being put on the spot made them flinch a bit, especially after Joy had interrupted them moments prior, but a beaming smile and a warm presence did wonders for melting through their hesitation. And so, with the vixen's help, finally came the words: "When I feel bad, I alone too..."

Sue put on a reassuring smile at the translation, lowering Joy down to free the hand that wasn't being held by the girl's maw, before comforting the little ghost with it. Before she could even respond about how that was all okay and that some people want to be alone when scared while others want to be with others, though, Twinkle continued. "N-n-not like..."

Their guardian blinked, taken aback. She thought back to the Nightbane incident again, trying to ignore her fellow Forest Guardian while recalling how Twinkle behaved through it all. It was hard to remember, and she soon realized why—they just didn't do anything. They withdrew all the way into her bag, pressed against her, and just stayed there, silent, without as much as feeling afraid in any way that Sue's senses could pick up.

All of which didn't quite sound like just being afraid. "When you're 'alone' like that," Sue began, lifting the tiny ghost closer to her face, "does everything else grow... more quiet?" It was the best phrasing for dissociation Sue could come up with on the spot, and she dearly hoped they'd understand her intent.

For once, her hopes were fruitful. "Very quiet. Very far away, like before Sue..."

Deep breaths kept the pang of tearful pain at Twinkle's admission from crawling all the way up to Sue's face, letting her maintain composure as she held the small bag close to her chest. The implications of the discussion—and how unpleasant the sensation involved was—were lost on Joy. That didn't mean she'd ever skip on helping someone else out if she felt capable of it, and the little ghost was just about the only being around smaller than herself. She scrambled to her feet on Sue's lap, digging into the Forest Guardian's thighs as she reached up to dispense some of her own affection; what remained of earlier fears was replaced by hopes that they'd feel better.

"I'm so sorry you felt like that, Twinkle. That is a very unpleasant sensation," Sue began, idly stroking the fabric separating her thumb from the ghost's true body. "Me and Sundance are here to help if you feel afraid or bad. It's hard to not hide, but it will feel better when we're here to comfort you."

All this would've been absolutely impossible to explain to any kid even close to their age back on Earth, hah.

Sue wasn't deluding herself that her somewhat vague explanations would induce sudden and permanent change for the better, certainly not in kids this young. At best, it'd nudge them in the right direction, with much of the needed growth ahead being entirely in their court as they got more in control of, and conscious of, their emotions. They'd probably not stop being entirely afraid whenever she was gone anytime soon, but Sue hoped she'd at least be able to nudge them towards seeking comfort in others as opposed to growing terrified or freezing up.

On that note. "Have you been feeling safe here, with Sundance?" Sue asked, briefly moving one hand to pet Joy's maw.

Thankfully, the girl didn't grow self-conscious at the question, merely listening closer as Twinkle answered, "Yes... Warm, nice..." It was just what Sue was wishing for, hoping that seeing the ghost's confidence would inspire some of it in the girl as well. To her surprise, though, Twinkle wasn't done yet, following up with a question of their own: "When you alone, it help...?"

Ack, that was a tricky one. One was taking a walk to clear her thoughts, the other was hollow, fear-gripped dissociation, and she worried about having mixed them up in Twinkle's mind. Then again... it wasn't like the connection was entirely without merit. Her earlier departure was basically a flight response to Twinkle's typical freeze, and it was only by talking through it with Daisy and others that she actually calmed down.

...

Yeah, that's the point.

"Hmm... being alone can help, but talking with others can help even more. When I went on a walk, I didn't feel good until I talked to Daisy and saw what she and others were doing." There, a simple answer that hopefully redirected the ghost where she wanted them to go.

Joy was listening keenly, too, but for other reasons. 'Daisy' was a name she recognized! She was always nice to her whenever she passed by their daycare. Even gave her a snack when she was clinging to Mrs. Splitleaf after getting scared one time. She liked Daisy, and now that someone else she liked a lot had brought her up, she wanted to hear more. "D-D-Daisy! What she do?"

Sue couldn't remember seeing Joy this excited, her smile threatening to split her head. "Oh, you know Daisy!"

"Y-yes! She nice," Joy answered, tripping over words less and less.

"She cuts stone for the buildings in Moonview, sweetie. I watched her do it and then talked with her about how important it is to forgive yourself when you make a mistake."

"Did it help?" Sundance asked, her woofs pulling Sue's attention from the two tykes on her lap. Sundance was equal parts curious and hopeful, and the words that followed soothed both those emotions.

"Yes, it did. So, so much."

A part of Sue wanted to keep going, to ride that wave of feeling better in order to address the things that still troubled her—but not with the kids in earshot. She figured that them knowing that she felt bad earlier was fair, but any specifics were best avoided.

You'd need to cut them off from the translation—actually, hold on.

Sundance blinked at the sudden swerve in her pupil's thoughts, looking up at her from her laying position as she waited for a follow-up. Before doing anything else, Sue wanted to put a bow on the conversation she was already having. Joy, however, knew what she wanted to see the next chance she got, enthralled by what she understood of Sue's recollection. "Want see Daisy!"

"Awww," Sue swooned. "It's late and I'm tired right now, so we can't go there today. I'm sorry."

"T-tomorrow?" Joy asked without skipping a beat, sparking laughter from both her guardian and the vixen.

"We will see, Joy," Sundance answered.

"Yes, we will! And the last thing—Joy, Copper said he hopes you're doing better."

The name didn't ring a bell in the girl's head right away. Sue wasn't particularly eager to go into charades to describe him, but figured it'd be necessary. "He's pink with wings and—"

*shudder*

Yep, now she knows who I'm talking about.


In spite of Sue's worries, though, Joy didn't react to the news any more intensely than with a bit of shaking. Maybe she took the well-wishes to heart, maybe she just wasn't as afraid of him now in general after their partially forced reconciliation yesterday. Either way, Sue was still proud of her.

"For now... Joy, Twinkle. Me and Sundance will be talking about some adult things, and you won't be able to understand us for a while. And don't worry—you can stay on my lap if you want to." To Sue's relief, her heads-up achieved the desired effect while avoiding stirring any worry. Both the little ones nodded to the best extent their respective anatomies allowed them to, though they weren't eager to move anywhere else.

More than fine by Sue.

Without skipping a beat, Joy and Twinkle felt a squirmy sensation in their heads as the translation was pulled away from them, leaving just the two adults, each with two kids under their watch. Sundance had it arguably easier, between half-asleep Spark not being eager to move much from her comfort and Comet having scooted back to scribbling on a plank of wood with charcoal.

It was time to dig into the murk that went deeper than anything she'd talked about with Daisy. "Now it's just us two, right?" Sue asked.

"^Indeed. I am really glad to see you doing better, Sue,^" Sundance answered, switching to telepathy.

"S-so am I, yeah. The chat with Daisy really helped a lot. She stressed all about how I should forgive myself if I make a mistake, how that's the path to actually getting better and making up for anything bad like that, and more importantly how being harsh on myself only makes it all shameful and awful."

The vixen smiled, absentmindedly ruffling Spark's tummy. "^All very helpful observations, I imagine.^"

"They are, and they helped me feel better after... *sigh*, did I tell you about what happened with Northeast?" Sue asked, deflated at the realization she'd have to run it by the vixen.

"^Hmmm...^" Sundance trailed off, claws tapping against the stone floor. "She never struck me as the sort to engage in personal spats, so I am curious."

"Oh, it's just—I got really angry at her yesterday when she was asking me questions about what happened to you, and at some point I just... snapped and screamed at her and upset her. That was when you were comatose, and just earlier today I spotted her while out with Solstice and had a chance to apologize, but I didn't. Got too self-conscious, felt awful, and kinda just ended up running away and feeling even worse afterwards. I still have to apologize to her, and what I talked about with Daisy will help with that, though."

The vixen listened intently to her pupil's explanations, finding the mental image of the meek Sue yelling at anyone to be... quite comedic, in all honesty. Still, it certainly wasn't funny for either Sue or Northeast when it happened, and so Sundance kept that observation to herself. Instead, she touched on a different point. "^I see. Best of luck with apologizing to her. From your phrasing, however, it seems as if that wasn't the event that left you upset.^"

Sue sighed weakly. "No, no it wasn't, it was... it was thinking about Aurora, and about what Solstice said."

To the once-human's relief, her mentor was still on the same page. "^That does seem the right topic to talk about, indeed. Both you and Solstice grew rather upset before you headed out for Dewdrop. Could you go over what exactly sparked this foul mood? If you feel you can and want to, of course.^"

"No no, don't worry, I—I want to. It's just..." Sue trailed off, looking for something to latch her focus onto. The sunroof above, together with the deities dancing around it, made for a right target. More so because of the latter than the former, though. As pretty as the gradually yellowing light of the outside was, the divinely inspired dolls inspired nothing but spite and contempt in the Forest Guardian, Duck included, sobering her up for just long enough to start talking. "Earlier, when we were all talking about Twinkle's costume, Solstice brought up her kin and their markings after I made a crass joke."

"^I would argue it wasn't crass, but—please continue, Sue,^" Sundance reassured.

"R-right. Then, at the end, she just said—*sigh*, she mentioned how Solanum and Nightbane weren't really deserving of those markings, right? And after that, she added I deserve them more than they do. And—and I know that this was just a small offhand comment, it wasn't her focusing and officially decreeing me worthy of that or whatever, but..." Sue trailed off, the free hand nervously flexing as she desperately searched for the right words to continue with.

Words that her mentor was keen to provide. "^It stuck with you?^"

"Yes, that—that's a valid way of describing that. It stuck with me real bad, and then I—oh? Twinkle?"

The movement on her lap cut Sue's increasingly wobbly recollection off as she watched the bagful of ghost scoot towards Joy. The spectral embrace that followed was abrupt and weak enough to just leave the metal girl confused as she and her guardian watched Twinkle let go of them both and climb down onto the floor. After one last moment of hesitation, they scooted back to where Comet was playing with their drawings, the Martian tyke squeaking in elation at their tiny friend having returned.

Without saying a word, Sundance psychiced over some more wooden scrap for them to draw on, together with another stick of charcoal. She then nudged Comet further away after sensing them wanting to use the little ghost's outfit as more canvas for their doodles, before refocusing on Sue once more. "^Alright. Would you be able to say why it stuck with you as much as it had?^"

The answer was simultaneously already obvious and obscured to her consciousness, veiled by layers upon layers of denying herself what her innermost desires were already clear about. She wrapped her free arm around Joy, holding the girl tighter and sending her into weak giggles as her tiny arms wrapped themselves around Sue's. Some of her wanted to pretend she didn't know, to avoid being direct with what her heart was yearning for, to not have to face something that was so stark inside her, but which hurt like a motherfucker to think about.

Then again, not like it hasn't hurt me plenty today already. Least I can do is get back at it. Take that... me, you piece of shit.

...

...

Something tells me I shouldn't have thought that either.

With that bit of motivation in mind, fueled further by recalling yesterday's lesson with the vixen about being honest about her desires, Sue focused. She thought harder than she ever did, pushing through the pain and actually trying to examine the unsightly wound in her mind, as well as what had fueled it.

And, even more importantly, just what desire that wound was trying to mask.

"So, I... I don't know much about those tattoos, but Solstice said a thing or two about them yesterday," Sue began. "Obviously, they mean a lot to her people, and I know she still really cares about it even if most of her people suck—or at least her relatives, sorry—"

"^You need not apologize, Sue,^" Sundance reassured, trying her hardest to conceal a chuckle at Sue's phrasing.

"Right. So even with all that, the tattoos mean a lot to her, and more importantly, they're a kind of family thing, right? She told me it's the family that's supposed to... unsure what's the word, paint them on you. So then when she mentioned I deserved them more than her actual family, it really got me thinking. A-and—" Sue froze, the pain of having to put those vulnerable desires to words almost stealing her breath whole. It was so, so hard.

And yet, she persevered. "And I want it, the tattoos, that—that connection with her, but I don't know whether Solstice meant it that way. She could've just been joking and now here I am, completely misinterpreting and making a joke out of myself. A-and after all, even if she did, that's still terrifying because what would Aurora think about that!"

Sue observed Sundance's reactions, waiting for a response. To her worry, it kept not coming, the vixen only offering her a gradually creeping eyebrow in response. Guess she had to elaborate on it some more, as much as even thinking about that hurt. "I-I mean, that's really the thing that left me feeling awful. Just the thought of what Aurora would think about me just stepping in here and wanting something—something that Fate took away from her. Just thinking about this is making me feel awful, and it was why I was so off before I left with Solstice, and then that whole mess-up with Northeast happened and it left me feeling ten times worse."

To the Forest Guardian's relief, the vixen was finally satisfied, putting together words as her pupil leaned back into her seat. Sue shook harder than she ever did, perking up Joy and making her check up on her guardian. Her smile was shaky, and the moment of stillness she disguised her anxiety with was fleeting, but it was just enough to keep the metal girl from growing worried.

The last thing she needs is to be concerned about someone like me.

Sundance was taking her time coming up with a response, leaving Sue uneasy. Was that loathing voice actually true, and her mentor was trying her hardest to look for something feeble to contradict it with? That'd be funny.

...

No, it would not be funny, it would be fucking dreadful; the mere thought enough to send Sue's heart rate spiking—

*squeeeeak!*

The high-pitched noise came through just in time to drag Sue away from the precipice of a deep, deep hole, pulling her attention towards a much more adorable sight. She remembered just how rattled Twinkle got when Comet pulled them into a sudden hug yesterday. They still weren't perfectly calm this time, but they pushed on and scooted towards Sundance for comfort instead of withdrawing again—and the lil' Moon Child gladly followed, always eager for some warmth from what was basically his aunt.

And that extra bit of comfort finally made Sundance's response come together, delivered once she was done ruffling Comet's hair. "^How much do you know about Aurora, Sue?^"

Sue expected several questions, but not this one. It felt like she was about to be asked about assorted trivia, about things that Aurora would've known as a real Forest Guardian, but which she, a pretender, could never hope to experience. It would be wildly out of character for Sundance to do, too. The thought provided enough of a life raft for the once-human to not panic there and then as she answered, "V-very little. All I really know is that she was Solstice's daughter; she tragically died when the plague hit Moonview, and... th-that's it, really."

It was an entirely honest answer—and one that Sundance immediately pounced on. "^Why would you think she would be displeased if Solstice were to adopt you and give you the Pale Lady's blessings, then?^" Seeing her pupil's eyes immediately going wide, she added, "^I really want you to focus on that question Sue, as much as it'll be likely to hurt.^"

Hurt... wasn't on Sue's mind once she followed her mentor's instructions. More than anything, she was taken aback by the vixen's frank phrasing, making her feel like she'd been flashbanged. Trying to put that moment to good use, Sue gave the task an honest attempt, putting herself in the dead Forest Guardian's shoes and really trying to imagine how it'd be like if, say, the roles were reversed. If it was her observing the scene from beyond, watching her human mom adopt a daughter a few years after she'd passed away.

She wanted to be angry, wanted to answer Sundance's question that way, but she just... couldn't. No matter how hard she tried to get mad at her hypothetical mom and the hypothetical daughter said mom was to adopt, she just couldn't do it. Her mom would be heartbroken after that had happened to her, but she wouldn't have used another kid as a replacement; she wasn't that shallow and selfish. A-and even if she somehow had, it'd only be her that Sue would be mad about, and not the poor orphan given a second chance at life.

But this isn't about my mom and me, though, it's not comparable in that way. It's not some random orphan replacing me, it's me replacing Aurora. It's so much worse.

Whatever progress Sue might've made, the stray thought undid them all in an instant. It almost made her double over as she whispered, "Wh-why wouldn't she be angry with me?"

Sundance... laughed.

It took Sue aback just at how unexpected her response was. Fortunately, words followed the canine sound up before her shock could turn into more hurt. "^Well, I could tell you about how Aurora didn't have an envious bone in her body. I could tell you about how she just kept asking Solstice and Jasper for a younger sister ever since she evolved. But... hah, we both know that isn't what all this is truly about, is it?^"

"Wh-why wouldn't it be?" Sue answered, dumbfounded.

"^Because you don't know Aurora, Sue. I don't mean that as an accusation, but in how you're entirely working off assumptions about how she'd behave towards you. And, yes—that is how all social interaction works, to an extent. Each of us has assumptions about how the other will respond whenever we interact with them, built from our biases, our experience, our hopes, and so on and so on. With Aurora, however... you're basing your assumptions off nothing concrete, merely off her being Solstice's daughter.^"

Sue half-sighed, half-groaned, not appreciating what sounded like a massive tangent towards some random semantics. She almost wanted to refuse this thread of discussion out of spite, to rudely ask what the point was—but in the end, a part of her wanted to see where the vixen was going with this. "Sure, I suppose."

"^Good!^" the vixen beamed. "^Now, the big question is as such: where do these assumptions come from? You aren't basing them off on any knowledge about Aurora, but they come from somewhere. And that somewhere is likely deep in your mind. You'll have to dig to find out where they're coming from—and that process will hurt. And it is even more important because it will hurt.^"

Again, a silly tangent. The answer was... not immediately apparent, but obvious once it had emerged from the recesses of her mind. "I mean... I just wouldn't be a good daughter. That's—that's all there is to it."

Sue didn't even notice how much harder she had to fight to keep her expression steady after that thought.

At the opposite end of the room, the vixen lifted an eyebrow once more. "^Why so? Why wouldn't you be a good daughter? Why wouldn't you, the whole of you, be enough?^" Sundance asked, each question stabbing again and again at a mental wound Sue didn't even know was there. "^Aurora wasn't some magically perfect person, and Solstice definitely isn't either. They both had flaws and shortcomings, as do all of us—why would you be any different? Why would you be 'not good enough' for them?^"

Sue tried to maintain whatever cool she had left as the questions hit her like a series of blows, each hurting more and more. Her expression had turned into a strained grimace, her gaze jumped to anywhere but the vixen; she was only barely keeping the hand Joy was holding with her maw from clenching tight. Deep down, there was only one true answer to that question, one that Sue ended up whispering before she could think of something to cover it up with.

"Because I've never been."​

*sq-squeak-growl?*

The sound of Joy's untranslated speech made Sue freeze, unable to simultaneously process Sundance's words and respond to the girl. The vixen had her back, calmly responding to the toothy girl, "^Sue is busy right now. Yes, you can come over here, don't worry.^" Joy nodded intently, hopping off Sue's lap and onto the stone floor before breaking into a quick dash—

And forgetting to let go of Sue's hand with her maw before she did so.

As startling as the sudden yank was, the Forest Guardian was more thankful than anything. She hastily put on a smile for Joy before leaning back into her seat, dropping anything that remained of her pretense of being okay the moment the girl joined the other kids with their drawings. She wanted to laugh at the mishap, to let it take the pressure off for just a moment—but the relief kept not coming.

She was in too deep, so close to the wound at the bottom of her mind that any wrong move threatened to make her implode. At least, that's what it felt like as she sat in the wooden chair, hands shaking and tears rolling down her cheeks without her having any idea when she'd even started crying. There was only one way to go from here.

Down, down, down.

"^If it's okay for me to continue—how was your relationship with your parents, Sue?^" Sundance asked, noticeably more hesitant.

Contrary to the vixen's woes, that was a topic that Sue had more of a grasp on—at least the 'bad' parts of it. "D-did Solstice tell you about... about what happened when I ran into her at the cemetery?"

"^Only in the broadest of strokes. If you feel you can handle it, I'd appreciate hearing it from you.^"

Oh, this was perfect. Sue's been through this before, and while it hurt like a motherfucker, she felt at least somewhat in control of the traumatic memory. Without skipping a beat, she gave Sundance the rundown, avoiding lingering on any point for too long. "When I was six, which is a bit younger than Spark is right now—I-I think—my mom died in a tragic accident. A-and I saw it happen."

"^I'm very sorry for your loss, Sue.^" Sundance answered quietly, pulling the almost-asleep Spark into a gentle hug.

There, perfect delivery. Sue didn't linger, didn't think, didn't break down. Only went over the parts that matter, and none of the—

But then, to her horror, Sundance continued: "^What happened afterwards?^"

Sue felt her entire body stiffen. This wasn't supposed to have been the important part; the rest of her childhood was normal. Why was she being asked about this? "Uh, n-nothing really..." she tried to deflect.

And was instantly seen through. "^I would still want to hear about it. It affected you just as much as the accident itself.^"

But there wasn't anything wrong with it!

The Forest Guardian tried to catch her breath, to recenter herself and continue the tale without losing her cool—and felt unable to. And yet, she had to, letting the tears flow as she put effort into keeping her voice from wobbling too much. "D-dad never remarried and raised me on his own. We weren't well off or anything, but we w-weren't poor either and we made it work. A-a-and before you ask," Sue subconsciously raised her tone, "he—he wasn't ever abusive towards me! He did the best he could with what he had; he wasn't a bad dad!"

Not an assertion Sundance was about to dispute. It wasn't the point, anyway. "^How did he process your mom's loss?^" she asked.

Sue flinched, the memories much foggier than she would've wanted. "W-well, he was really sad about it, a-and cried most days for a while. I mean, I—I did too. I don't blame him; that's just how you go through stuff like that, you know."

"^Did he talk to you about the accident?^"

"Oh no, o-of course not; why would he? It'd just be more pain for both of us; we already knew what had happened all too well and just had to keep on living, you know. After a while he stopped crying mostly, a-and then I stopped seeing him be sad about it, so I tried to stop being sad too. He spent a lot of his time at work anyway, really had to work hard to make ends meet. It was 2008 and—" Sue cut herself off, trying and failing to figure out a way of conveying the year's significance to Sundance. "Those were bad times a-and he had to work really hard. He was a bit absent in hindsight, b-b-but I DON'T BLAME HIM OR ANYTHING!" Sue shouted, teeth halfway bared.

The tears were flowing freely at that point, and it was only thanks to Sundance's active intervention that the entire room wasn't growing alarmed. All the little ones but Spark were separated by a faint, shimmering barrier, not noticed by Sue in her turmoil. She hurt, the pain downright radiating from her—but they weren't done yet. They were close, though. The vixen could feel it. "^What happened then?^"

Sue breathed as deeply as she could, with her entire body hurting this much. This was a much more innocuous question, and after all, nothing was wrong. She just had to answer it. "I-I mean, it kinda stayed like that. He spent a lot of time at work. I mostly just stayed at home after school. Spent a lot of time on the inter—that won't make any sense and I don't think I can explain it right now. J-just, stuff I could do on my own. Dad—dad didn't have much time to take me places, so I stopped asking. I mean, he was already having to support us both and raise me by himself, so I don't—don't blame him. He really tried his best, a-and never hurt me or anything."

"^Did you two do much together?^"

The once-human weaved her fingers together as half her body shuddered in nervous tics, hurt from wounds long past rattling her body. She kept trying to focus. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong.

Can this FUCKING body stop crying already!?

"I mean... n-no, not really. He kept trying to take me places for a while, like we used to before, but... it just never felt right without mom. We kept trying and then we just eventually stopped. B-b-but again, that's normal! He was busy with work and worked his ass off and just didn't have the time! Besides, I was a little shit sometimes. I would've been a challenge for any parents, let alone a single father! He was doing his best; he loved me and I loved him! It's not his fault!"

Sundance nodded slowly in response. Sue hoped beyond hope she was convincing her that there was nothing else to find down this dark path of her memories, because NOTHING WAS WRONG. HER DAD DID NOTHING WRONG AND SHE WASN'T BLAMING HIM FOR ANYTHING. She didn't want to think about this, and judging by all the cold wetness flowing down her neck, neither did her body.

And yet, she had to.

"^I see. If you couldn't go places together, did you talk together often?^" the vixen continued.

Finally, something simple and reassuring. "O-of course! We talked every day after I got back from school a-and he from work, over dinner."

And yet, the questions wouldn't stop coming. "^What did you talk about on these occasions?^"

"Y-y'know, just normal stuff," Sue answered offhandedly. "H-how was my school, how was his work, dinner, the weather and such. Sometimes I'd ask him if he was planning to take us places, but he never did because we always had to save money. A-and again I DON'T blame him, we had to save money for college and just in case! And he didn't have much to save in the first place, so we just couldn't do much, but he was trying his best."

"^What about talking about things important to you?^"

Sue opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. She tried a few more times, churning through the murk of her memory to find something, anything to bring up on that front, anything that wasn't the end of his life or that one ANNOYING memory that kept popping up. It was bad, whatever, not something she should've been dwelling on; there had to be something else, ANYTHING else!

Please let there be something else.

"We-we didn't do that much either. I..." she drifted off. Tried as she did, there was nothing—nothing she wanted to bring up, at least. That annoying memory wasn't the only one of its sort, but it was the starkest. Sue hoped that if she'd just go through it, just get it over with while replacing the term 'flash game' for something Sundance would understand better, then she'd be able to redirect the conversation where it should've gone to begin with.

"There was one time when I was... ten or eleven or so. I really got into a—a small game, you could say. It was just a small dumb thing, a toy basically, nothing—nothing actually important. It was dumb, b-but I liked playing it and got quite invested into it, more than I should've been. I was just a dumb kid like that. Got invested, e-even a bit excited, a-and I wanted to tell dad about it. He had a long day, he was already quite annoyed, and I just didn't notice and he was nice enough to not speak up or anything. I just began rambling about it, about all the characters I liked and so on and he listened and nodded. A-and after a while he asked if I could talk about books with him some other time since he was busy, a-a-and I realized he hadn't even been listening and—"

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP

Sue tried to see, but her eyes were too blurry from all the tears. She wanted to breathe, to continue, but her sobs wouldn't let her. Her hands were clenched together, her expression was twisted in pain, and she couldn't stop crying. It hurt too much to stop—but it shouldn't have! She shouldn't be hurting; nothing had gone wrong! It was just a dumb memory of her being a dumb kid; there was nothing there to actually hurt her! Nothing like with Mom, at least!

And yet, it kept hurting, and Sue kept crying.

Despite Sundance's best efforts, Comet eventually noticed the excess despair, letting out a quiet whimper as he tried to look over his shoulder. The vixen intervened fast enough to distract him back and prevent the two other tykes from noticing, keeping tabs on Sue's mental state while at it. Immense pain, but... nothing unexpected, sadly. There was only one way this could've gone from the very start.

Spark might've not been attuned to Sue's emotions, and wasn't feeling as well—or as awake—as she would've liked, but she could still hear Sue's sobs. The sound stirred her back to awareness as she climbed out of her mom's comfort and onto her own four legs, gasping at the state her friend was in. Before her mom could ask her to wait, the kit was already dashing towards her tall friend, nudging her leg with her wet snout.

Sue jerked back at the sensation, pried her eyes wide open as the lil' fox jumped onto her lap and began dispensing affection—and doubled over once more, holding Spark as close as she could with her shaking arms. Seconds turned to minutes as the sound of weeping filled the room, the burning pain deep inside Sue leaving her one sob at a time. It couldn't last forever, but it sure felt like it would, like she'd be stuck here, unable to move on by herself—

She wasn't alone, though.

"^Sue, how are you feeling?^" Sundance asked, concern clear in her voice.

Having a question to respond to hastened Sue's efforts to get in control of herself again. Her success was partial at best, but it far beat the opposite, making her cling to it—and the warm kit in her arms—for all she could. Eventually, words flowed again, staggered and delivered in a constantly cracking voice. "I-I don't know why it hurts so much. H-he was just doing his best, i-it's not his fault. He, *sniff*, he had so much o-on his plate, I had no idea how bad it was u-until he died a couple years ago—"

"^But it still hurts, doesn't it?^"

"I-it SHOULDN'T!"

"^But it does! Your feelings aren't a matter of 'should' or 'should not'. If it hurts, then it means you were hurt—^"

"BUT HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST A-AND HE LOVED ME!"

"^And yet, you were hurt all the same. Over, and over.^"

Sue wanted to snap back, to shout back at her for daring to imply that her dad had hurt her. Yes all this hurt and yes she wished he'd done more things with her and took her places and talked to her more and took her to Mom's grave and read her books to bed and played games with her and did everything she'd heard of other kids doing with their parents but he still loved her and he'd been trying his best! She didn't want to, couldn't blame him for this, not when it was someone she loved so much.

Not when he was the only person she had left.

The vixen had been hesitant to use her telepathy for this beyond finding the right questions to ask, but it would be hard to avoid it this time. "^Sue, this isn't about blame. I don't doubt you at all when you say that your dad loved you and that he was trying his best. I genuinely believe that he had been, just like you. But his actions still hurt you, didn't they?^"

They shouldn't have...

...

...

But they did.

"I-it hurt, yes..." Sue whimpered. "B-but—"

"^But it hurt,^" Sundance cut her off, keeping her mental voice as gentle as she could manage. "^That's all there is to be said—you were hurt. It doesn't make your dad evil; it doesn't mean he didn't love you. All that means is that his actions, or lack thereof, had hurt you. Those we love can still deeply hurt us, even if they're genuinely trying their best.^"

The truth was staring Sue in the face, but she still couldn't face it. She had to keep running, to bring something up that would obscure this ten thousand foot tall mountain of pain and grief staring her in the eye, anything to delay it just that bit longer. Facing it wasn't an option, couldn't have ever been an option.

Because it meant that him never finding the time for her wasn't her fault.

Because it meant that them growing distant wasn't because she was an awful daughter.

Because it meant that she really had done nothing wrong and still ended up like this.

"^You were a child, Sue. You loved your dad, and trusted him to not hurt you. But he did, and that fact alone hurt so much more than what he'd done. It's awful when that happens, especially when we're young enough to not know any better, or worse yet, that we assume it's our fault—but it does happen. Those we love, those we trust wholeheartedly to look after us when we're little... they're just people, too. They make mistakes and can hurt others; they can hurt us. If we don't accept that, if we just keep running away from our emotions after we're hurt like this, then they'll never loosen their grip on us, and we'll be forever stuck at that moment our little hearts broke, unable to move on.^"

It was such a simple truth, so blatantly obvious and excruciating at the same time. Sue tried to go along with Sundance's mental image, to imagine herself as that little girl, how she must've been in that memory, trying her hardest not to show her little broken heart to anyone else.

And, for the first time she could remember, she didn't run. She sat still, watching the ten-year-old that would one day be her try her hardest to blame her dad's avoidance on anything, anyone but him. On herself, only on herself, more eager to gouge her eyes out than to face the facts. She leaned closer, as close as she could get to this child, this scar at the bottom of her mind—

And touched her.​


For a while afterwards, all Sue could hear was her strained breathing. Her heart raced, her eyes sobbed until they had no more tears left within them, her throat grew dry. It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes; the sun was only a bit further ahead in its downward journey—but she felt utterly exhausted. She was of half a mind to fall asleep then and there and let someone else deal with the consequences. But she couldn't, and she didn't.

There were a couple of little people in here with her, looking up to her. She didn't want to hurt them, to accidentally pass on the pain she was only now coming to terms with.

She was still not done processing all the aching, even if it had dulled enough to let her think about something other than itself.

And last—she was hungry, and this chair wasn't that comfortable.

The very final pair of reasons finally made her twitch as she sat back up, shaking hand stroking Spark's back. She was still so, so very lost, no less so because the pain was still there. It had eased up a bit; it no longer threatened to crush her in an instant, but it still surrounded her. What was she to do now?

...

...

She didn't know, but someone in the room did. "S-S-Sundance?" she whimpered.

The vixen turned to face her, a weak smile cutting through the earlier concern. "^Yes, Sue?^"

"It—it still hurts..."

"^It'll keep hurting for a while, I'm afraid. However... there is something we can do to help with it, I reckon.^"

Sue looked up at her mentor, away from Spark's diligent attempts to cheer her up by nuzzling her stomach. "Wh-what do you have in mind?"

"^How much mourning have you done after your dad passed?^"

Such a simple question.

Such a painful answer.

"N-not much, I-I don't think..."

"^Then maybe we should try just that.^"



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 32: Purgation



"^Then maybe we should try just that.^"

Sundance's words echoed in Sue's head as she recovered from the blinding pain she'd spent her entire adult life trying to keep hidden. It took a while until her surroundings had turned from an indistinct blur, only dotted by her sixth sense pointing people out to her, back to the vixen's dwelling. And, of course, all the little people present in it. The edges sharpened, and the colors saturated by the moment, until Sue finally felt normal enough to consider Sundance's idea in earnest.

Grieving was something she never cared much for, even when it was just her mom who had tragically left her life. She may have prayed a lot for her to come back, shed mute tears at glimpsing her in the photos around the house before dad took them down, but she never sat down to just... let herself cry over the loss. There was always something else she could do, or that dad wanted her to do, something more active and yet more hopeless. Anything but truly acknowledging what happened.

Because the one person she had left to look up to never truly acknowledged it, either.

It was an awful thing, it happened, and then normalcy resumed, even more pretend than before. On one hand, Sue had a hard time rationally imagining why her dad never did anything like that. Why he never made peace with his wife's loss, why he never noticed that it was eroding the family he still had left, why he never noticed that it was tearing him apart, too. On the other... Sue already knew why. Because she was no better.

Because it hurt so much. Because running away from that pain hurt less in the moment than confronting it, even if not that much less. Because that momentary agony felt so much more imposing than an incomparably larger plateau of suffering, built one distraction at a time. The world could never wait for them, could never wait for her dad. And so, avoiding it became a survival tactic. If it was the only way to keep their family afloat, then it was what had to be done.

And with each passing day, the wound they tried to run away from only festered.

Sue shuddered as she clenched her fist tight, and gritted her teeth at feeling a wave of anger crash against her mind. Anger for what her dad's actions had taken away from her, for every unseen scrape his neglect had left on her psyche until it had accumulated into a goring wound. She wanted to punch and shriek, to scream in fury about all the ways in which he had hurt her, for nobody to understand. For everything he had done,

And which she had inevitably ended up repeating.

The bitter reality delivered another gut punch to Sue's brittle psyche, forcing a stifled cry out of her as tears resumed irrigating her cheeks. They had ended up so much alike, in good and bad. And with that insight, the awareness of how badly all this hurt her inevitably cooled her emotions towards him, too. Worse yet, he didn't even have anyone to help him with it all. Didn't have anyone to step in and give him a hand before all the anguish could metastasize into shame at itself, at one's coping mechanisms becoming so painful it was impossible to even examine them, let alone the wound they obfuscated. Sue looked up at Sundance through blurry vision, smiling weakly as she wordlessly thanked anyone who'd listen for having her around to listen to her...

...

...

I wanted to say 'nonsense' again, didn't I? Is this just another way I've been burying all this for so long?

The split-second realization sobered Sue up just enough to let her wipe the excess tears off her face, and give calming down another attempt. Ultimately, the very thing she'd been running away from for so long had come to pass.

All this hurt! Like an absolute motherfucker! And yet, beyond wanting to lash out at the pain, beyond the subconscious desire to shield her wounds from all sight even as they festered, she felt this pain would be good for her. It wouldn't be pleasant—for anyone—but at last it'd help in closing that entire chapter of her life. Sue could only hope for that, of course. For once, however, doing so was... almost surprisingly easy. She had swum down to the very bottom of her mind, after all.

Nowhere to go but up.

With that realization to comfort her, Sue closed her eyes and breathed deeply, putting herself together enough to resume the unpleasant chat without breaking down again. Before long, though, she felt something touch her arm, some kind of rough fabric—a pillow. A plain canvas pillow, neither the softest nor the most comfortable in the world, but at least something to hold. Something to cry into. Something the vixen on the other end of the room didn't really need three of underneath her and could spare one for her pupil.

As one hand administered pets to Spark and the other wiped her tears with the pillow, Sue craned her head to check up on how the little ones were doing; what kind of drawn masterpieces were they working on? She saw little of the latter. Hard to, with their wooden canvas being obscured by their bodies. To her momentary regret, however, she saw some of the former—and vice versa. Joy's effortless glance over her shoulder left the girl worried, making her drop the stick of charcoal she was holding and waddle over to her guardian.

Her untranslated words sounded concerned, leaving Sue worried about her troubles rubbing off on others. With a few deep breaths, though, she overlooked said worries for long enough to let herself actually address them. She leaned forward, making sure to not accidentally poke the curled-up Spark with her horn, before holding Joy's hand as the girl hugged her uninjured leg.

"I'm here Joy, I'm here," she whispered, shooting the girl a soft, if tired, smile. "I'm crying a bit, yes, but I'm doing well. Sundance is looking out for me, and everything is going to be okay." Of course, the lack of translation was an issue in the other direction too, but Sue didn't hesitate to ask for help. Restoring the translation between her and the kids was best avoided for now—they weren't quite done talking with Sundance, after all—but Joy deserved an explanation. "Sundance, c-could you pass on to her what I just said?"

Sue sighed as the fox responded with a wide smile and a slow, understanding nod. She watched Joy perk up and turn towards the vixen as the words were soundlessly passed onto her, all the while opening the girl to some more affection on her maw. And this time, she'd even figured out how to keep it gentle enough to not startle her.

I really wonder what her skeleton looks like, though.

With the last of the affection received and her guardian's leg held tight one last time, Joy turned around and returned to the play area, catching Twinkle's attention with her sudden return. Or rather, making the ghost realize she had even left to begin with. They turned towards her, and she didn't hesitate to send a wave their way. To her relief, they seemed satisfied with that sight alone, especially when accompanied by Joy saying something to them in her rough, growly, cute voice. They didn't understand it, of course, but their... friend was calm. And that's all that mattered.

And Sue was calm, too. Enough so to finally tackle the heavy topic ahead of them again. "Okay. I-I think I can continue now," she said, petting Spark's back while the lil' fox tried her hardest to huddle even closer to her midriff.

"^Excellent. I hope this conversation has been providing some reprieve, however painful,^" Sundance answered, looking up from the little one's drawings.

"Oh, it's definitely painful; lemme tell you that much," Sue chuckled dryly. "But... yeah, it's still some reprieve, at least. It's easier to understand why I feel this way now. And even though I still do feel that awful way a bit, it's much weaker now. It feels like something I can face now, and not just something I'll have to run away from forever, like—"

Sue blinked at the tangent, thinking back to moments earlier with her thoughts about her dad. She sighed, and continued—"Like he's done in the past, and like I've been doing, too."

"^It gets tiring, doesn't it?^"

The Forest Guardian considered Sundance's question, slowly tilting her head to the sides. "Kiiinda. I suppose moment to moment it does hurt and tire you, but it's also hard to notice it doing that until it gets really strong. Just sits there in the corner, being a vampire and sucking a little bit of our strength at a time."

Sue put on a confident-ish smile at her point, glad to have finally made a decent comparison herself. Or, at least, a decent comparison to a potential audience who knew what the folklore creature she had referred to even was. "^...forgive me for the tangent, but—are there really creatures in your world that feed by sucking others' blood?^"

Oh, Neptune.

At least this question had a straightforward answer. Key word 'had', as the instant Sue thought about it, she realized that just answering with 'no' would commit the worst sin known to man, mutant or god—be technically incorrect. "Yes, but the 'vampires' I offhandedly brought up don't exist. They're—they're a folklore thing. It's only like mosquitoes and leeches that feed on blood like that, I think."

"^Ahhh, lesser beings, then. Either way, I see your intent now, and your comparison is accurate.^"

The phrase 'lesser beings' sounded very unlike what Sue expected Sundance to ever say, and a part of her really wanted to inquire about just what she meant by that. Alas, said part was summarily overruled by all the other neurons, eager to keep up their streak of tackling uncomfortable topics and get into the next step of the process. "I'm glad. So, this mourning. Is there anything specific you mean by that, or just... crying about the dead for a while until the tears stop?"

"^Your description is broadly correct. However, it ideally is much more than just crying,^" Sundance clarified. "^Beyond just expressing sadness, it's supposed to be a time for us to come to terms with all our feelings about those we lost, and let them out. Further still, even that description is incomplete, as it is just one kind of mourning.^"

Sue raised her eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'one kind'? What other kinds of mourning are there, then?"

The smirk on her mentor's expression grew two sizes at her words—seems she had inadvertently walked right into the point the vixen had wanted her to. "^The other one that I feel is relevant here is mourning for what wasn't. If you feel you're capable of it, think of what else you've lost with your parents' passing, beyond simply them as people.^"

The once-human wasn't yet convinced this wasn't a point made entirely out of pedantry, but she played along. "You mean like, their house, or...?"

"^Your future with them.^"

Sue leaned back at the straightforward clarification—and remained somewhat confused. Because... yeah, that kinda went without saying, didn't it? She lost her parents, which by definition also meant losing the future she could've had with them. "Riiiight. That feels kinda obvious," she muttered, uncertain.

"^Oh, I am not saying that it isn't obvious—but that, obvious as it is, we still need to mourn for it. Mourn for the future we never had, memories we could never remember, achievements we could never cherish. All the things we could never be, the different paths our lives might have taken, but didn't because of reasons outside of our control.^"

The clarification helped. To Sue's surprise, even it was enough to stir some emotion within her, catching her by surprise as she thought back to the times when she remembered hurting for that stolen future. "I-I used to daydream a lot about my mom turning out to have survived, or having suddenly showed up when everyone thought she was dead, and our life magically returning to how it was before. Is... is it something like that?" Sue asked, wiping her face of the tears that had sneaked up on her as she went over her childhood hopes.

"^Exactly. They... they are sweet. I know full well just how alluring it can be, that pretense that things hadn't gone wrong. And maybe, in some other time, some other world, things would indeed have not gone wrong. But they did in our world, and at some point we have to make peace with that. To look at everything we've lost, all the paths through our lives that had been stolen from us by cruel Fate or someone else's actions, and accept that they're gone without lingering on them.^" Sue was about to respond with an immediate point, before the vixen put a bow on her idea, taking her pupil aback. "^And to accept ourselves as we are, on the path we had either stumbled upon or been forced into.^"

Sue shifted nervously in her seat, one pointed fingertip repeatedly tapping on the pillow in her grasp. She didn't mind the broad outlines of Sundance's point, but didn't feel comfortable with all the implications. "What if the 'things that had gone wrong' were awful and preventable, though? I-I guess it's one thing if it's just entirely bad luck, but what if the thing that went wrong was something that can be stopped? Shouldn't we use the events that happened as motivation to ensure they won't happen again?"

Sundance nodded firmly. "^We should, you're correct!^"

...

"I feel like I'm missing something," Sue admitted, petting Spark's back.

"^Sounds likely, yes. To elaborate on my point—making peace with the tragedies that have happened is not the same as not finding them atrocious. It's not the same as not fighting to make sure nobody else suffers the same fate, either. More than anything else, it is accepting that they have happened and that their awful consequences are here to stay, without denial or fury. As with everything else—you cannot move on if you're unwilling to acknowledge where you stand.^"

Sue stewed on her thoughts before responding, chuckling under her breath at how tied together everything she'd discussed with Daisy and Sundance over the past couple of days had been. The topic differed each time, of course—guidance on facing one's desires wouldn't ever be identical to a pep talk about how to learn to move on from mistakes—but the core thrust remained the same.

It all starts by facing oneself in the mirror, and coming to terms with what one finds there.

The realization calmed Sue down more than she expected it to. Maybe because it was another hint that she was on the right track, maybe because she'd walked this general trail enough times by now to make the rest of this trek easier than what came before. That didn't mean she didn't have any objections, or any doubts about some finer points—but this entire neighborhood of her mind was one that only ever grew more familiar with each passing day. Once terrifying, once disgusting, and now?

Now, it's just in need of some professional cleaning. Doubt these chats with Sundance count as more than a broom and a dustpan, but they still beat nothing.

"R-right. If there's anything else I've learned so far, it's that, heh. I still have more questions if it's alright."

The vixen smiled. "^It always is, worry not Sue.^"

"About being at peace and accepting ourselves with how we are now. Won't that lead to complacency? None of us are perfect, and I've always felt like I should strive to be a better person, even if my execution has sometimes been... yeah. B-but, if we get too comfortable with ourselves as we are right now, won't that lead to us just falling into complacency and resting on our laurels, so to say?"

Sundance's eyes danced around the room as her blunt claws tapped rhythmically on the stone floor. Of all the responses Sue expected from her mentor, a cheeky chuckle wasn't one of them—especially not one accompanied by such a sharp point. "^That sounds like it would only be a serious issue if you think that you as you are right now isn't enough and that you need improving.^"

Sue froze at the piercing remark, mentally scrambling to find a response. Try as she might to deny it because of it being reaching, though, the vixen's point struck true the actual motivation behind Sue's point, leaving her hunching over in her seat. Guess for all her progress, she still had a lot left to do. It was a realization that would've been crippling to face just a few days ago, and now...

She felt just about strong enough to keep moving on.

Just because her mentor was right, it didn't mean she had nothing to say in response. A response that never came, however, as the vixen out-sped her once more, continuing her point. "^If you genuinely believe you ought to improve something about yourself, then no—it is not an excuse for that. It has to come from your desires, however, from you looking at who you truly are and only then deciding on what, if anything, you ought to change. It is much too easy to look at all the people you could have been and exclaim that those are who you should be, however possible that feat even is.^"

'Coulda' and 'shoulda', my old, beloathed friends.

"^I cannot claim to know what person you truly wish to become, Sue, so I ask you—what is the one trait you wish you had more in abundance?^"

Sue nodded absentmindedly, calming her fidgeting hands by holding the pillow closer as she thought through the question. The answer was 'many different things on many different occasions', but from them all, there was one thread that was clearer to see than others. "I suppose I could stand to be more courageous—w-with the Northeast matter and all."

"^That is what you discussed with Daisy earlier today, if my memory holds?^" the vixen asked. Her pupil nodded firmly, making her continue—"^In that case, some other area would be preferable. Not to diminish what her chat with you had accomplished or the relief it provided, but I believe an older, much older example might illustrate my point better.^"

It was time to dive into the mental murk of memories again, and Sue... dreaded it less than she thought it would. It was still unpleasant, obviously, but shifting her focus from the events of the past couple days lessened shame's grip significantly. And since Sundance asked her for something 'much older', Sue guessed she meant an occasion from before she had become one of Duck's own chosen. "Before I ended up here, I wasn't very social. In college—think like an advanced school for adults—I was always too scared of people to talk much, so I stayed this eternal outsider. It didn't feel good then, and it doesn't feel good thinking back to it now, heh..."

"^That is a great start. What does thinking about that situation make you feel?^"

"Just kinda embarrassed. Not terrible or anything, but I continuously flunked my one good chance to meet people. I already had a year of it taken away because of the pandemic we had at the time, so the remaining time was even more important. It felt like I should've, had to take that opportunity because once it ended, meeting any other friends would be impossible. Which... I now realize is something that is quite hard to believe considering how social Moonview is," Sue chuckled, gaze sweeping nervously around the floor.

"^Well—yes,^" Sundance admitted, looking at her pupil in disbelief, "^but that isn't the point. The point is about how that self-perceived failure made you feel.^"

"Disappointed, mostly. It was something simple I knew I could do, I knew I should do, but which I never did, and eventually just seeing the cafeteria was a big downer in itself and so I stopped—oh."

The vixen tried—and failed—to hold in a chuckle. "^Ha. I will spare you another conversation about how shame ties into it all, because you already have a decent grip on it. Instead, let me ask you this—why do you think you didn't rise to your expectations?^"

That was something much simpler to answer. "Because I was scared of people. S-still kinda am, even. And everyone already had their cliques, and I was worried I'd come off weird if I just sat down with someone, and... piles upon piles of other reasons. Most of them probably silly."

"^Not silly if your mind takes them seriously enough to act on them. Misguided, incorrect, sure—'silly' is not the right adjective for them, since those impulses aren't stupid. They're not fooling around, they're not pranking you into coming short of your goals, they're doing what they can based on what you've been through,^" Sundance clarified.

Her pupil rolled her eyes. "Sure, incorrect then, nitpicking."

"^I disagree with it being nitpicking, but—not the point. Now, why do you think all those misguided impulses had their hooks in you?^"

This was where the conversation stepped into painful territory. Nowhere near as blindingly excruciating as it would've been mere hours ago, but still unpleasant. "Probably from how I grew up with my parents, right? I wasn't a very social kid even before... even before I lost my mom, and after, it got even worse and I basically became a shut-in growing up. Never as bad as some people on the internet—I still showered and didn't become a violent misanthrope—but it wasn't pretty. Guess that was enough to just make social interaction too scary by the time college came."

"^Are you surprised, then, that you failed to reach the expectations you had set at that point?^"

"Surprised? No, obviously," Sue chuckled, sighing in defeat. "It was quite the predictable outcome. I still felt disappointed, though."

"^Why, though? If you acknowledge it was predictable, then why feel disappointed with it?^" Sundance kept pressing the point—much to Sue's confusion.

"Because I could've done better! Yes, it was unlikely, but it was still possible."

"^That 'better' word you used there is quite indicative. That's not what I want to focus on, however. More so on the assertion that you 'could' have done better.^"

Sue blinked. What in the world did Sundance mean by that? Obviously she could've done much better; she had free will. It wasn't some magically impossible task for her. "Is there... something wrong with that assertion? Of course I could've done better."

Without skipping a beat, her mentor doubled down—"^Could you? From the explanation you just provided for why you think you fell short of your expectations, it certainly sounds like the odds of you accomplishing them were vanishing, if even that.^"

"It wasn't likely, no, but it was still possible," Sue insisted, growing slightly annoyed. "It wasn't a problem for almost anyone else there. Yes, I grew up as a shut-in, but there was no other way for me to get to where I wanted to be but to keep trying, even if it hurt."

"^Was it where you wanted to be, or where others insisted you should be?^"

The line between these two was a blurry one. Even in her terseness, Sue wasn't naïve enough to think that her desires were pure and untainted by her surroundings. The influence was there; the pressure was there; but in the end, they only acted on a yearning that has been there all along. "Where I wanted to be, yes."

Sundance waited for a few moments, looking over Sue with a raised eyebrow. In not too long, she was satisfied with what she saw and sensed, though—Sue had really meant it. "^Good! So, you wanted to talk to people more, wanted to become that more social Sue, right?^"

"An odd way to phrase it, but yes."

"^Was that more social Sue someone you could have become, considering what you told me about your experiences with your parents?^"

Sue was getting an idea of where Sundance was trying to lead this entire discussion towards, and she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. "Yes, of course I could—actually, lemme just ask that head-on. Are you trying to imply that it was impossible for me to become more social?"

"^From what you've described so far, yes—barring any external influence outside of your control.^"

"So I... shouldn't have even tried to get better?" Sue asked, disbelieving.

"^That is not what I said~. Striving to become better is admirable, yes, but refusing to acknowledge one's circumstances in that striving only leads to further misery. Because of reasons outside of your control, you went through years of not receiving the attention you needed. You grew up lonely and weren't as good at socializing as you wished you were, on top of eventually losing your dad, too. These are not setbacks we can just brute force our way through, they require help from others.^"

It might not have been the bad-faith interpretation Sue had brought up earlier, but she still wasn't entirely convinced. "So what was I supposed to do instead if I was so doomed? There's nothing I could've done about what happened to my parents."

"^Yes, exactly!^" Sundance replied, making her pupil's heart skip a beat. "^Nothing you could've done there, nothing you could've done to prevent yourself from ending up in that miserable spot you ended up in. And from there, is there any wonder you failed to pull yourself out of that dark pit alone?^"

"No, but—" Sue began, cutting herself off right as she noticed the vixen perking up, as if about to stop her herself. She waited for long enough for her mentor to come to rest again, receiving nothing but an amused smirk in return. "I'm still not sure where you are going with all this, in all honesty."

The vixen nodded, taking a moment to gather words before replying, her voice creeping towards seriousness again. "^Let me be as direct as I can, then. It's not about not trying to be better, it's not about thinking you're a perfect being that needs no changes. It is, above everything else, accepting ourselves as we are, together with our shortcomings brought onto us by forces beyond our control, without shame. It's about not using 'what could've been' as a cudgel to beat 'what is' with. It's about realizing where our limitations lay, and reaching outwards for help with overcoming them if we feel we need to do so.^"

Now that was something more concrete—but also, which left a detail unaddressed. "But what if that help never comes?" Sue asked. "Or what if we keep reaching out for it, doing our best to change ourselves and reaching for others, only for all of them to ignore or blow us off? What if we fail?"

"^Then that... *sigh*, is a sad outcome,^" Sundance whispered, memory venturing towards all the people in her past who didn't succeed despite their best efforts. "^That is an important point as well. Not blaming ourselves in such a situation is one thing—we did our best—but it is not the crux of the issue now, is it? Ultimately, it's an argument and encouragement to help those you can; for us all to help one another. Sometimes, a nudge is all a person needs. Sometimes, it's just having someone, anyone by their side to ease the load of their anguish.^"

All wonderful messages—but still incomplete. "So, if you're unlucky enough to not have anyone to help when you need it, you just... fail? Die?" Sue knew the answer to that question already. Earth had already beaten it into her plenty. She still hoped that her mentor would have some out, just to let her avoid that cruel reality for a bit longer.

"^It is possible to make no mistakes and still lose, yes. Pretending we're in complete control of our Destiny is a blanket of falsehood that lets us avoid acknowledging that grim fact. Avoid facing our successes not being entirely our own, and avoid facing others' failures not being theirs. Comforting as it may be at times, it is still a lie. One as harmful to us as it is to others.^"

Sue nodded idly as she took the wisdom in, shaking in her seat despite Spark's warmth. She wasn't ever particularly religious, not even when both her parents were still alive and regularly took her to church, but the comfort of preordained Destiny wasn't lost to her. The prayer that doesn't ask for a different, more just world, but one that claims the world is already just as is. Where everything happens for a reason, where those who succeed are saints and those who fail sinners, where everything is its own justification.

Where there is no Capricious, Fateful Chaos—merely a Just, Destined Order.

A very cold, cruel world.

Even if she knew better than to assume that everything that happened to others was their own fault, it was exceedingly hard to pull all the hooks that line of thinking had left in her mind. Despite being reassured again and again, ad nauseam and then some, she had a hard time seeing her being unable to make those changes she wanted to, not being able to apologize to Northeast when she had that chance, as only a personal failure. As only her own sin.

Sue was trying her best to pull them away, at least temporarily, and it was just barely possible now that she was consciously aware of them. She didn't know how long such a state would last, though. Had to make it count. "H-how do I just... accept myself, both back then and now? How do I look over all my flaws, all the things I did wrong, all of it?"

"^You do not look over them,^" Sundance replied, keeping her voice calm at seeing the tension shoot through her pupil's body. "^You accept them, too. Pretending your flaws don't exist doesn't bring freedom—it merely gives them more power over us, lets them bind us all the more effectively. No, you need to embrace them, just as you embrace your strengths. Make peace with yourself as you are, woeful and flawed, burdened by grief and shame and a thousand different scars that make up our minds—and yet, beautiful all the same. As are we all.^"

Spark's quiet whimpers went unheard as Sue tried to focus, closing her eyes and gripping the pillow tight. Her mentor continued; "^Don't let those echoes of paths untaken, of things that could've been, of the people you could've become, browbeat you into misery over not being who you could never be. I don't think they would like that, anyway—to know they're used in malice, as a mallet for your mind to inflict harm onto you with.^"

Sue tried to focus on herself in the way the vixen had described, tried to encompass all of who she was as a person and bring it into her arms to embrace—but couldn't. She could try to make peace with some of it, with not fulfilling some of her dreams, but many parts of her psyche were still just too raw to touch. If she was to grow more comfortable accepting her mistakes, this sounded like a good one to take on—not being ready for the worst of that introspection.

Doesn't mean I can't do anything else, though.

Instead, she clasped her hands and clenched her eyes even tighter, shifting gears towards the kind of mourning she was more familiar with but one she'd still not done as much as she probably ought to. Sue thought back to her parents, trying to put together a vague prayer in her mind based on the little she could still recall from church. She doubted anything she'd come up with would comply with what her local priest's teachings, but neither she nor they cared for that. The latter, not least, thanks to no longer sharing a universe with her.

She had to start somewhere. And of the two people she'd lost, one was much more recent, and the wound left in their wake much larger.

Dad?

Her mental whisper into the void went unanswered, but she was too focused to care.

I-I hope you're happy, Dad, wherever you are. It's been hard to really process it all, everything that happened to both of us after Mom died. I'm only now realizing just what kind of impact it left on me, and it's scary to think about. I don't want to be angry at you. You were just as stuck in that position as I was, after all—weren't you?

Sue's expression scrunched, tears remaining in their ducts thanks to sheer willpower alone.

Just like I ended up in a spot where I couldn't grow more social by myself, you... you weren't able to come to terms with it all, were you? It's so obvious in hindsight, good god. We were both so destroyed by it all, maybe you even more than me. It's little wonder we ended up like we did. I wish you would've reached out for help when you had the chance. Maybe it would've helped us both overcome her loss sooner, maybe it would've at least helped me. I don't know, and... I don't think fantasizing like that is the best idea, either. All I know is that you tried your best, but I was still hurt afterwards for years to come. I miss you.

It was awkward; it was painful; but she was doing it.

I don't have to be ashamed of the person I became anymore, though. I don't—don't want to be ashamed.

Sue focused on that thought, repeating it in her mind as many times as she could stomach. She wasn't sure what effect it was supposed to have, whether the relief from it was supposed to be immediate or not. Either way, it wasn't doing as much as she wanted it to, even if she could feel the headache-inducing pressure in her head grow just a bit more bearable with each repetition.

The relief didn't last forever, and at a certain point the words had turned from reassurance to just empty sounds—as good a moment as any to take a breath and refocus onto something else. Mourning for her dad had been a… limited success, which left her antsy about how doing the same with her mom would go.

Only one way to find out.

Mom?

To her relief, the thoughts associated with her other parent were much easier to stomach, despite the much more gruesome way in which she'd lost her. There wasn't any drawn-out decline to remember, no second hand shame or trauma passed onto her. Only the image of a loving, radiant woman, colored that much rosier with the passage of time, and the accident that took her life.

I hope you're happy too, Mom. It's been so long, and I still think of you often. I remember the things we did together, all the camping trips you took me to, all the guitar lessons you gave me, all the strawberry ice cream you got me whenever I was feeling down.

The memories ached to be recalled, and the fight against her own expression of sadness was swiftly lost. Though, in a way, those were the easy, straightforward tears, something she knew that at least she had the full right to cry over.

It hurts to know you're gone. I wish you were still with me, that you were there to see me grow up and how similar I ended up looking—but you weren't. And I think... I think I'm finally okay with that. I think I'm ready to move on, after all these years. I still love you so, so much though, and I wish I could've expressed that to you while you were still around. I'll be okay now, I think. I have people looking after me, little people I look after, m-maybe even someone looking at me the same way you looked at Dad. Maybe if you'd been there, then stuff with Dad wouldn't be anywhere near that bad, but—it's okay. It's okay.

Sue held in a small flinch at that last point, at the release of tension turning sour because of the impact her mom could've had on her dad. She ignored that thread in her mind, hurriedly shoving it off to the side to concentrate on everything else instead. To grieve and mourn over the things she was ready to, to make a long overdue peace with that reality.

And, that small tangent aside, she'd managed just that.

Goodbye, Mom. I'll always love you.

The discarded thought was still there, small and shriveled and refusing to be forgotten wholly. For better or worse, she'd just have to endure it for now, grumbling to herself as she withdrew from her focused state. It wasn't a total success, not by a long shot—but it was progress. She didn't succeed at everything she wanted to, but... it was okay. It was okay to not succeed at things.

Things were okay.

With one final deep breath, Sue pulled her palms apart and opened her eyes—and almost broke into laughter instantly at the sight that awaited her. On the floor, beside her seat, Joy and Twinkle were mimicking her prayer to the best extent their respective anatomies allowed them to. The metal girl was clasping her hands while pointing both her face and her maw at the floor, while the bundle of ghost beside her was reaching up with a pair of tentacles, intertwining them in lieu of keeping them pressed together.

Both of them sat still and with closed eyes—and they weren't even the only ones in that regard. Further into the room, beside Sundance, Comet was just as focused as his friends pretended to be, entirely still as he sensed all the emotions in the room, now that Sundance had dispelled her sparkling barrier. Sue wouldn't maintain her focus at seeing all the tykes being so focused, and as much as she tried to hold her amusement in,

She just couldn't pull it off, not this time.

Instead, she broke into loud, relieved giggles, forcing Spark to scramble off her lap as she leaned in and pulled both the little ones onto it. Their reactions were positively confused, squeaking and clinging to their guardian as Comet babbled and wriggled at the emotions in the room finally clearing up. Twinkle wasted no time wrapping as many of their tentacles around Sue's stomach as they could, easing out only with her touch. Joy, in the meantime, pulled the arm, petting her into a tight hug—and spotted the glistening wetness on her cheeks. Taken aback, she asked, "M-more cry?"

Indeed—but those are the good sort of tears.

Glad at her mentor for having restored the translation in the room, Sue responded. "Mhm! I'm—I'm still doing good, Joy, and Sundance is still helping me. I was sad earlier, but I'm good now. Those were good tears."

Fascinated, Joy nodded at every translated word. "T-Tears not bad?"

A smile bloomed on Sue's face before she even realized it, the pride accompanying it warm and radiant. "Not always, no," she answered. "Some tears can be good. And even the 'bad' tears aren't naughty or anything. It's okay to cry."

It was such a massive insight for the lil' metal girl she had a hard time processing it all, her hold of her guardian's arm growing weaker as she considered it. No words in response—only a lot of relief and scooting even closer to the tall psychic's body.

Just a couple feet away, a much older girl had her own question. "Are you feeling better, Sue?" Spark asked, leaning on her friend's uninjured leg.

Not as much as Sue would've wanted, but... yeah, the answer wasn't really debatable. "Yeah, I'm feeling better now, had a long and very needed talk. Thank you, Sparkie."

"Yay yay yay—*ow*," the fiery kit shuddered, curling up to Sue as she turned around to address her mom. "Thanks, mom!"

"You are very welcome, sweetie," Sundance replied, clearing her throat as she switched back to spoken word.

Sue looked up at her mentor, the wordless gratitude clear in her expression. "Still a lot of... well, everything on my mind, and I'm quite tired, but I am better now, I'm sure."

"That is great to hear, Sue. None of this is easy, and any progress is something to cherish and be proud of," the vixen beamed. "And speaking of nothing being easy," she groaned, her expression noticeably faltering. Before Sue could speak up in concern, Sundance looked over her shoulder towards a basket of elongated sticks. She then rifled through them with her mental grasp, before settling on the straightest, most cane-like one. "I sure wouldn't mind having something to eat before bedtime."

Won't say no to that either.


Sue didn't even think about dissuading her mentor away from going out on a walk—she sure was attempting it in a much more responsible way than her pupil could've ever claimed to. Instead, she stuck to the vixen's side, offering her a shoulder to lean on, alongside her makeshift cane. The resulting march wasn't fast, but it was much more steady than Sue's early attempts at walking, while inflicting notably less injury to the vixen with her every step.

Not an especially high bar to clear, but Duck be my witness, it is possible to fail it hard.

Even Comet was cooperating so far, not wriggling too hard even as he squeaked in Sue's arms. He took up most of her attention, leaving the other little ones to march beside the adults on the ground. They didn't seem to mind that—all it meant was that Twinkle clung to Joy's maw instead of Sue's torso, the difference in weight unnoticeable for the girl. And even if it had been, having a wispy, pitch-black tentacle to hold with her hand as they walked through Moonview was worth all the extra weight. Spark walking beside her, keeping her company and warm, helped too.

If only she'd been tall enough to hold Sue's hand.

The increasingly orange sunlight nudged them to keep up their pace, but they weren't in any rush. For once, they could take their time, get comfortable, and just have something to eat. Tomorrow would be a big day for some of them, even if Sue was still doubtful if she even should contribute to carrying all the supplies towards Newmoon. Largely because... yeah, there was no way she'd be carrying anything worth a damn there, not with her slow pace and general roughed up state.

On the other hand, maybe they'd be happy to see her again? Even then, just getting there was itself a problem Sue didn't know how to solve. Again, something for tomorrow. Right now, they had arrived at the clearing.

The bulk of the tables were already occupied, but there were a couple of stragglers, and a few more that had just one or two people sitting at them. Sundance homed in on the almost-empty one not far from Poppy's stall, the plate of the person sitting there already almost empty. Sue, however... was focused on somewhere else.

Someone else.

To her relief, Sundance didn't react as she paused, instead trying to make it the rest of the way to the table by herself. It gave her pupil all the time needed to chew through the sight, her pointed fingers nervously tapping on her forearm as she thought through what to do here. Because she wanted to do something with the sight ahead, didn't want to waste the first good chance she had to talk with them in a while.

But what exactly she could talk about with Willow, she didn't know. She still didn't trust them, but... there were just so many unanswered questions. They weren't feeling angry or vengeful, merely distraught and broadly sad. Enough so to draw quiet, concerned squeaks from the lil' Moon Child in her arms, but nothing more.

Sue just couldn't get it. Couldn't comprehend how someone who had been so incredibly kind toward her and Joy could have such an issue with the night kin, something that should've meant so much less to them since they weren't even psychic themselves. She didn't understand—but wanted to. For all her past anger towards them, she didn't want to just leave them there, didn't want to discard them over just that. There had to have been an answer to this, maybe something she could say to sway them the other way. What exactly... she didn't know. Couldn't know. Only one way to find out.

Joy's harsh, confused squeak snapped her out of any further daze, prompting her to catch up and take a seat at the edge of the bench. Joy and Twinkle to her side, Comet on her lap, Sundance off to the stall. A perfect opportunity to chill and grab her bearings. If not for one tiny logistical detail, that is, one that she'd have to intervene with sooner rather than later.

No way is Sunny gonna be able to carry all the dishes by herself.

Sue patted the two kids and got up, walking up to the fox right as she was talking to the unpleasant ghost behind the counter. Trying to not pay attention to Hazel, she spoke up. "I-I don't think you'll be able to carry it all back to the table."

"—and for them—oh? Well..." the vixen began, searching through her mind for an excuse that would let her carry the dishes regardless, to let her feel more helpful. Alas, no catch, again and again. Her psychics weren't reliable, and her physical paws especially weren't, either—best to just call this one a loss. "Sure, sure," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Before I head off, I need to finish the order. Any requests?"

"I suppose something sweet for me and the little ones? Don't have anything more specific in mind, sorry," Sue answered. Comet didn't even come close to understanding her words, but couldn't resist squirming in her arms at the mention of sweetness.

"Sure," Sundance replied, taking the lil' Forest Guardian from Sue. "Hazel, something sugary and nourishing for Sue and all three little ones, please. Wonderful." With that, she headed off to the bench, Comet vocalizing his displeasure at being carried away from all the yummy scents through his many baby sounds.

Truthfully, Sue didn't care for a waiter position, especially not while possibly having to deal with any more of Hazel's... pranks? Shenanigans? Assaults? All three fit in different measures. Either way—not for her, and she made that distaste clear by leaning on the stall's wall and looking away from the ghost. To her dismay, that didn't guarantee she'd be left alone, and she was very aware of that. Though, considering the intense discussion going on between Poppy and her wife, she might've just been able to get through this without any further incidents.

Sue couldn't care one Duck less what they were talking—or more accurately, bickering—about, keeping her gaze trained on something that brought her joy instead. Namely, Joy. And Twinkle, too, the two soon catching onto their guardian smiling at them from afar and waving at her as hard as they could manage. Adorable enough to melt her heart on the spot? Check. More than welcome considering all the struggles and strains of the past day? Check. Eagerly replied to in kind? Check.

Rudely interrupted? Check.

Hazel's ethereal, croaky voice made Sue jump a bit, afraid to look at the prankster that now stood beside her, lest even more nonsense happened. Still, it seemed like she had no choice. She kept her expression flat as her eyes met Hazel's fiercely red ones. And, for the first time in her recollection, she saw in there one emotion in particular that seemed to be the ghost's anathema—hesitation.

Without any reply on Sue's end, Hazel spoke up again. Unfortunately, the communication would be necessary. Pushing through the many, many desires to flip her off or continue to just stare idly at her in a sort of juvenile battle of disrespect, Sue sighed and went through her linking ritual. Her arms were sore after a long day and she really, really didn't want to deal with the ghost's nonsense, but figured Hazel felt just about the same and wouldn't be bothering with her unless it was important.

Dial-up noises, dial-up noises, ding! There.

"*Sigh.* Yes, Hazel?" Sue spoke, not even trying to mask her emotions.

The ghost blinked, taken aback at her bluntness. Still, she continued. "Wanna... thank for caring Joy and lil' ghost," she grumbled.

It was Sue's turn to be stunned, focusing on Hazel as she tried to suss out whether there was any ulterior motive to her words, any sense of mischief in her mind. No such thing as far as she could tell, with the ghost's emotions dominated by unease, mixed with warmth as she turned towards the kids in the distance herself. The once-human still wasn't entirely convinced that the interaction was in good faith, but... why not play along. "Um... thank you, Hazel. I'm glad I could help them out, too, especially Twinkle. The ghost," she added, sensing the seed of confusion in the ghost's mind.

"Bag ghost Twinkle," Hazel chuckled, her unnatural smile gradually creeping back to its full size. "Very happy, they."

"I hope so, yeah."

The conversation wasn't gonna be winning any awards for the best flow or the least awkwardness, but at least it was progressing. Not even that was enough for the pink cook behind the counter, though. Poppy raised her twinkly voice from behind the backdrop of searing sounds, leaving Hazel cringing despite its gentleness. "Really?" she asked in return, looking over her shoulder with an embarrassed, almost pleading expression.

The unenthused flatness and tapping of Poppy's foot against the beaten dirt floor she got in return straightened her out soon enough.

Take that, you—

"Want sorry for prank," Hazel unknowingly cut the nasty thought off, almost bluescreening Sue's mind.

Out of everything she expected the ghost to do, apologizing was almost at the very bottom of the list. Though... sure, the apology was entirely unlike her, but when it was nudged by her wife and also motivated by Twinkle doing better under Sue's wings... she supposed she could see it.

Anger was tiring, and she really didn't want to push herself through any more of it. Sure, why not. "Well... thank you, Hazel. Apology accepted." Sue then did something she knew was a bad idea, bracing for regretting it soon.

Second by second, the hand she'd extended towards the ghost remained un-taken and un-pranked, though. Until, at last, she felt the unnaturally cold touch return her handshake, without anything underhanded. Hazel was even appropriately anguished for wasting such an occasion to inflict misery on prank someone, only proving to Sue that she meant it this once. "Thank, Sue. Look Twinkle, please."

"I will."

With the handshake over, Hazel wasted no time retreating into the kitchen, to Sue's relief. She returned moments later, carrying a wooden plate and a couple of small bowls. The two more bowls Poppy then placed on the counter in her wake, one larger and one smaller, completed the order. Sue realized what was going on just soon enough to grab them before the ghost could get back, wanting to bring them to the table herself. That's what she was there for, after all.

Ignore the thick, sweet aromas emanating from the bowls, please.

With all the bowls brought over and the little ones sat down in places where they could eat from them—mostly on the table—they all got to eating. Everyone sans Sundance and Twinkle got the same meal, though the portion sizes differed. It almost reminded Sue of one of the very unhealthy kinds of cereal. Marble-sized, gently fried balls of what seemed to be molasses-flavored cookie dough, mixed with seared black... spheres. They kinda looked like the individual granules blackberries were made of, but scaled up to the size of blueberries, tasting somewhere between the two. All that drizzled with a pinch of ginger and three pinches of sugar.

It was almost enough to make Sue overlook the topic her mind had latched onto earlier, especially when she crunched through the individual marbles of dough and berry and let their flavors mix in her mouth. Only almost, however. Sooner or later, it'd still return, and only nag her into finishing her meal faster before she'd waste the opportunity.

Once her greedy fingers felt nothing but the wood of the bowl and a few loose grains of sugar at its bottom, she made her move. Without saying a word, she got up, looked past Sundance's furrowed brows, and made her way to a table further into the clearing.

Willow was still there, having long since wrapped up their meal, but still lost in thought. It was only when she sat down at the opposite end of the table did they finally notice her presence, perking up as their eyes went wide. For a moment, Sue worried they'd just run away there and then, unable to look her in the eyes ever again. The medic sure looked like they were about to do it... and then, they deflated with a sigh, resigning themselves to whatever was to follow.

One more repetition of her ritual, one more ache in her horn—onto a long overdue conversation. "Good evening, Willow."

They perked up at her voice, looking away with an absentminded nod. "Evening, Sue. Hope day good, injury good. What thank for presence here?"

"I want to ask you something."

They didn't immediately react to the elaboration, evidently waiting for the inevitable follow up. Before Sue was about to present it, though, someone else butted in, someone that brought a pained smile to both their faces.

Joy smiled brightly at the medic who had bandaged her maw just days prior, waving and pointing at where the barely visible by now scar was. After her efforts were acknowledged with a gentle head pat, she ran towards her guardian, squealing happily as she was lifted onto the bench beside Sue without another word. At least she was happy about this interaction.

With one hand passed onto the girl for holding, Sue got to thinking, mobilizing whatever wits she still had about her to come up with the question. The one that would accurately sum up all her feelings about the medic, about their past, about their choices and beliefs, about their situation. One that would cut through this jagged, uncomfortable contradiction and maybe even convert them to her position.

Alas, try as she might, the words escaped her. Which left the fallback option, one almost as evocative if much simpler.

"Why?"​



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 33: Ghosts



Willow stared at Sue as the question washed over them, confusing yet clear in equal measure. They glanced away from her, expression twisting into an uncomfortable grimace as they tried to interpret it in some other way. No obvious alternatives presented themselves, but the medic wouldn't let that get to them—Sue had to have meant something else, right? Of course she had to; there was no way she'd just barge in with a topic this heavy.

Or, at least, that's what their uncertain mind clung onto as an excuse. "What 'why', Sue?" they asked, forcefully putting on a soft, tired smile. "Not sure you mean."

To their dismay, Sue wouldn't let them have said excuse for long. "Why are you supporting Root and his plans?" she clarified, trying her hardest to keep her voice from getting too accusative. She was confused, she was disappointed, and she was even angry to an extent, but that wasn't something she wanted Willow to see. Despite everything, she trusted them to engage with her as an equal, to have reasons for their actions that went beyond simple bigotry.

They had to have been different. Right?

And, fortunately for them both, the chubby medic had their reasons. They weren't comfortable thinking about them even at the best of times, and the distraction of Joy's adorable, confused self could only help so much, but they didn't run or mouth her off for daring to ask. Their paws tapped on the rough wood of the table—or on each other—as their gaze jumped all over the place, until finally hiding behind their eyelids. There, Willow had an answer, something to get Sue off their case. Hopefully. "Not me place to question forefather faith."

Sue narrowed her eyes. "But this isn't just their faith, right? As far as I understand it, D—the Pale Lady has been worshiped in this wider area for a long time, and that hasn't changed. It's not like Solstice is championing to demolish her altar. Or, say, banish all her worshipers from Moonview," she snarkily added—and cursed herself for doing so immediately afterwards.

To her relief, Willow didn't burst into anger at her jab, focusing on arguing her point instead. "Solstice still pressure our faith. But when she come, siblings still alive."

She lifted her eyebrow at their point, wondering what their siblings had to do with anything. They were their own person, and if maintaining the unbroken sanctity of their ancestral bigotry was such a priority for them, they would've been devoted to that cause from the get go. Even beyond that, their assertion still left room to be argued against.

At least, so Sue thought.

She had much less confidence about her idea than she wished she had, forcing her to take her piercing gaze off the medic to focus. Before she could get too far into it, though, she felt a tug on her arm. Joy was staring back at her, confused and uneasy at the chat going on around her.

No easy way out of this, I'm afraid.

Sue pointed back at the rest of the group, trying to suggest Joy go there instead, but the girl steadfastly refused. She was uncomfortable; she wanted reassurance; she wanted her big friend to make things right—which said friend was entirely eager to do. Sitting on her lap helped, carefully leaning on her torso and hearing her heartbeat helped even more, even if it left the toothy girl staring at her bandaged spike from an inch away. Which just left offering one hand for her to hold in the tip of her maw, the other for her to hold in her little arms, and voilà. One soothed, metal girl, trying her hardest to relax in her guardian's comfort.

By the time Sue was done comforting her, Willow had already shed much of their built-up discomfort, leaning over the table to watch Joy with a genuinely affectionate expression. Alas, it wasn't to last, especially once their eyes met Sue's once more, making them sit back down and sigh as their interrogation continued.

"Why would your siblings being alive make any difference to your faith?" Sue asked, keeping her voice as quiet as she could, rocking the lil' girl on her lap. It wasn't the question she wanted to ask, but it was the safer of the two.

Safer, and ineffective. Willow responded, sighing, "Significant plenty. Spread pressure."

The mention of pressure caught Sue's attention. "Pressure of what?"

"Forefather faith. Need respect, need worship," they answered, straining their voice as if responding to a dimwitted, self-explanatory question. Sue didn't appreciate that tone, about to get back at them with her riskier question—before stopping.

No, I don't want to do this to Joy.

Instead, Sue took one deep breath, then another, then rolled her shoulders for good measure, and only then put the words to the question on her mind. "You mentioned Solstice's influence. What about all the other influence from people of this land? Are you insisting that your forefathers' faith somehow remained unchanged this entire time, free from the influence of Solstice's clan, and it was only her arrival that introduced heresy?"

This was an angle that could backfire spectacularly, one Sue expected to set off people like Root if they ever heard it. She trusted Willow to be smarter than this, to recognize the faith they inherited as but one variant of many that all influenced each other, as opposed to a fixed dogma thrust upon them from Duck herself.

And she was right.

Willow clenched their paws, flinching so hard the curls under their ears jiggled as they turned to stare at the dirt path beside the table. The setting sun highlighted their age, bringing the grayish, spottier patches of fur and wrinkles on their snout into focus. They contrasted greatly with their intense blue eyes, shaking faintly as more intense emotion began to build up within them. Annoyance, offense, everything Sue had hoped she'd be able to avoid, making her lean away from the table just in case.

Thankfully, the medic kept themselves under control, letting their emotions subside before arguing, "We good, peace people, Sue. Peace, faithful, help other around, help everyone. Did good acts, good help, make good world. Not only who dislike night kin."

Channeling her willpower, Sue stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Willow's misdirection. They weren't wrong—their people did a lot of good to the best of her knowledge, and that alone was worth admiration and praise. If not for their willingness to help whoever needed aid, Moonview wouldn't exist. They obviously weren't evil.

And yet, they weren't without flaw, either—even if that flaw happened to be shared with others. "I'm not sure how one makes the other right, Willow. Yes, your people did many great things, but that doesn't make them beyond reproach. Just because they helped strangers, or just because other peoples weren't friendly towards the night kin, that doesn't make their attitudes right."

Sue kept her mouth open, wanting to continue. She wanted to go on about how their insistence that others' hatred of the night kin justifying their hatred was backwards logic, how it assumed that they had somehow earned or deserved that hatred, how it could be extrapolated into painting the world as a cruel, 'just' place where everyone who was suffering had somehow had it coming. But she didn't.

There was a much better point to be made, one she only noticed just now. Two, even. "And you already know that their attitudes aren't right, don't you, Willow? You wouldn't be trying to excuse them if you knew they were in the right. Besides, that the others are doing it too is no excuse—isn't it a point of pride to you, to your entire people, to be better than others, more righteous in your acts?"

She leaned back once she was done with her polemic, more confident about her approach to this discussion. There, something she knew they wouldn't be able to argue much with, not if they wanted to approach the topic in good faith—they were getting angrier.

Nope, maybe not the best of ideas after all.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at the pink and cream medic, their expression so much fiercer than she'd ever remembered it being. Sure, she'd seen—and caused—their annoyance in the past, but this went beyond that, beyond grumbling and huffing. Their paw shook as their blue eyes glared into her, brows furrowing hard enough to make her genuinely afraid she was about to be hurt.

Fortunately, that didn't end up happening, with their emotions finding another outlet. "We still better!" they insisted, squeaks and whines combining into something much more intimidating than Sue would've ever thought possible. They weren't shouting, but only by the thinnest of margins.

For all their intensity, though, their point made little sense. "Then why not lean into being better?" Sue pressed back, pushing through her hesitation and leaning forward in her seat. "I'm sorry, Willow, I refuse to believe you of all people aren't aware of the hurt your forefathers inflicted on the night kin with their decisions. You were here when the plague struck, you were here when they were exiled, why continue to insist on excluding them just because your ancestors did!?"

This time, it was her that had ended up with a raised voice by the end, the final syllable leaving the young girl on her lap shuddering. Willow wasn't doing much better with remaining calm, but at least Sue's pointed response took them aback enough to choke some of their flame. Sadly, that helped little when it came to their reasoning. "Forefathers did for reason," they insisted, clarifying nothing.

It felt circuitous, but Sue was too invested in this silly chat to not dig as deep as she could in search of something that would make it all make sense. She responded, "What reason, then? What about the night kin is so uniquely terrible they deserve shunning and exile?"

For once, something the medic felt much more comfortable about answering, staring back at the Forest Guardian with confidence. "They enemies of Pale Lady. Not know already, Sue?"

Oh I know a fair bit about the relations between the extremely divorced lunar duo, and it sure ain't what you're insisting it is, Willow.

As much as Sue wished she could respond with that thought verbatim, she had to resort to a different point. No amount of confidence could offset her having arrived in this world only a week ago, making all her theological assertions moot. Still, she had other options. "Says who? Solanum?"

Bringing Solstice's clan into the conversation again didn't do either of them any good, leaving both Sue and Willow repulsed at the mere mention, if for different reasons. With how unsightly and vulgar as Sue's comparison was, though, the medic couldn't resist arguing back right away, raising their voice and leaning over the table. "They are by nature! That how world is! Just reality, just truth! Not me who decide, Sue! Just reality, just truth, dozens dozens generations. My role is listen truth, not doubt, not defy—"

*whi-whimper*

The shrill sound coming from the toothy girl on Sue's lap sent a chill through both their hearts, leaving the medic shaking as they backed down. Sue was trying her hardest to comfort Joy, holding her even closer and before humming a half-remembered lullaby, hoping it'd bring her the comfort she deserved. It was slowly working, but the little one was still confused about it all. Joy stuttered out a couple words as she looked up to her guardian, intended for Sue's ears but only understood by Willow.

They visibly winced at the sound, closing their eyes and taking deep breaths as they reached up to rub their temples. The Forest Guardian had no idea how to answer, kicking herself over not having established a link with Joy the moment she'd ran over. What if she'd just asked her something important and would grow confused—or worse yet, terrified—about her guardian not responding?

She didn't know, couldn't—

"Apology for loud voice, Joy," Willow cut in, their voice deflated. To Sue's immediate relief, the girl on her lap not only understood the apology, but was comforted by it, nodding weakly and leaning further on her guardian. It was okay. Things were okay.

This entire cursed, tensed discussion wasn't over yet, but everything would be alright.

Sue was torn. She wanted, needed to continue, but didn't want to subject Joy to more of this if she could avoid it. The girl wouldn't want to be separated from her right now even if she were to physically carry her back to Sundance and others, but who knew when she'd get the next opportunity to truly discuss this topic with the medic one-on-one and without anyone eavesdropping?

Thankfully, despite their stubborn dismissal of her points, Willow seemed just as keen on not exposing the little one to any further shouting. And if there was something Sue could still respect them for, it was that. Everything else, though... it was growing harder and harder to. Yes, they were a selfless healer, but was pride really their motivation behind doing so? Sue didn't believe that, couldn't believe that. She hadn't felt a smidge of superiority in their attitude in the past, nothing but good intentions.

And yet, here they were, adamantly excusing their wrongdoings and blaming them all on their ancestors and the steps they had laid out for them. Sue wasn't satisfied with that, nowhere near. And, once she felt Joy's heart grow calm and her own ease out as much as if it would be today, she expressed her dissatisfaction.

"Why, though?" she asked. "Why is it not your spot to challenge or change your people's faith? Are you not one of them? Do you not have the right to contribute and shape them?"

Disdain flashed through their short snout, muffling into dismissal by the time it had reached their vocal cords. "You not understand. Would not understand. You, Sue, one person. Me, descendant. Above, dozens dozens generations. Me they watch, judge. Me, only left, only who can carry tradition and faith. You, not have that burden."

It was Sue's turn to grow annoyed, sharply exhaling through her barely visible nostrils at the implication she didn't have any expectations placed upon her. It was maybe true in this world, now that the intended pathway of finishing college, settling down and starting a family was no longer possible, but that didn't mean she was unfamiliar with how they felt.

On the other hand... Willow had a point, too.

She wasn't a stranger to familial expectations, but they paled compared to the sheer pressure the medic must've been feeling. All she had on her shoulders were the best wishes of her parents, a single generation, and their kind words as opposed to the many, many more Willow was struggling with. The only one left to follow traditions, to follow their faith, barely withstanding the crushing expectations and the peer pressure of thousands upon thousands of ghosts.

At the end of the day, however, they were just that—ghosts. Willow was still their own person with their own volition, free to act as they pleased. And, judging by their scrambled excuses, it wasn't as if they were utterly blind to the harm they were causing. Sue responded, "Are these traditions, that faith, even something you want to carry?"

Willow jerked back, mood snapping from discomfort to a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Y-yes! Beside, what matter if not? Have to. What forefathers think if last child disrespect tradition, how angry they be?"

'What would they think', forever the unrelenting specter.

As much as Sue wanted to snap back, saying that it didn't matter, she knew better than to go there. This entire topic wasn't her strong suit. She wasn't tied to any traditions, any cultural identity; about as plain a slice of white British toast bread as they got. She didn't know if what she was saying was even right.

But Willow didn't know either. They were sure trying to convince themselves they knew, to relegate having to think about it all to long-established traditions and beliefs that would answer it for them. Unfortunately for them, they were too smart for that to work perfectly; too aware of the consequences of theirs and others' actions to let the thick blanket of deferring blame smother all their doubts away and leave only devotion behind.

And it was these doubts that Sue knew she had to use to her advantage. "I can ask you the same thing, Willow," she began. "How angry will your ancestors be to see the last one of their people clinging to oppression even after almost everyone else has moved on? How disappointed will they be to see you put hatred over the values they valued the most—"

Sue paused mid-sentence, freezing at the realization of just how furious Willow had gotten.

She looked at them in fear, watching as their wide eyes drilled into her with wrath far beyond what she thought the medic was even capable of. A voice in the back of her head was yelling at her to get up and run, shouting about how she wasn't safe anymore and she needed to get away now—

Only for Willow to storm off with a huff instead, infuriated and—to all the relief Sue could find within her anymore—conflicted. She sat still, panting as she watched the medic leave the clearing and disappear between the Moonview's many buildings, taking some of the evening sunlight with them. She'd shone a light on their doubt and made it grow stronger, and it was the only reason Sue wasn't considering this entire discussion an absolute waste of their combined time.

It sure could've gone a lot better, though. Much, much better.

Sue knew she shouldn't have been focusing on what could've been, but that fact only slightly muffled the persistent thought's effectiveness. She still felt down, both at her missteps and at having antagonized someone she once looked up to as a friend. The rational part of her argued the latter wasn't her fault, that Willow had brought it upon themselves the moment they let their mask slip off about how they felt about the night kin.

Her emotional part wasn't convinced. Too late to do anything about it, though. It was time to get up, rejoin the others, and probably start heading in the general direction of a bed. Sue lifted Joy into her arms proper, the girl shivering as her maw had to let go of her friend's fingers. She slid out of her seat, straightened her legs, began turning towards the rest of the group—

And saw someone in the treeline.

Someone who looked like Nightbane.

Sue jumped at the sight, deaf to Joy's alarmed squeaks as she tried looking at that spot again—and found nobody. She looked around in panic, whole body shaking as her gaze fixated on every blob that so much as resembled a person between the surrounding trees. None of them amounted to anything on a closer look, though, and the more she thought about it, the more she doubted whether the 'someone' she'd spotted was even real to begin with.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was Nightbane. Or worse, someone else from Solstice's clan. All the reassurances that it was just Solstice's immediate family suddenly meant nothing, the fleeting observation eroding much of Sue's remaining confidence in them not being a serious threat.

*sq-squeak?*

Right, sorry, Joy.


"I'm—I'm here, I'm here," Sue whispered, holding the little metal girl tighter as she grabbed her bearings. No matter how unnerved she felt, Joy no doubt had it much worse, and it was her comfort her guardian ought to have been prioritizing. "I'm sorry sweetie, I got spooked by something. Here, let's go back to the others now."

Hearing her big friend's voice helped Joy remain calm, which, in turn, reassured Sue. Together, they turned towards the table their friends were sitting at, only to spot a welcome addition—especially now that she was feeling better again. Still not at her best, but miles ahead from the last time Sue had seen her, and that was all she could reasonably expect of her. 'Not quite perfect' sure beat 'so foul her and Sue only wound each other up with their mere presence'.

And, even all that aside, Sue was happy to see her. "Good evening, Solstice!" she spoke up with as much cheer as she could muster, catching the table's upbeat attention. "I'm—I'm glad to see you're feeling better now."

Comet answered her greeting first, squeaking happily from his spot on his mom's lap and earning himself a gentle hair ruffle. The Mayor's smile wasn't as wide as it used to be, but it felt noticeably less forced, a trade-off Sue eagerly accepted any day of the week. "^I'm glad to see you too, Sue—and you as well, Joy~.^" The addition sent giggles through the table as the metal girl in Sue's arms squirmed happily, letting her big friend lower her down onto the ground again.

After a moment of hesitation and looking up at Sue for reassurance, Joy took a step towards the older Forest Guardian. And then, another, and third, until she had made it and gently embraced her legs, trying to feel at ease. It took Sundance all the restraint she had to not swoon at the sight, instead giving Sue an upbeat smile as her friend leaned in and lifted Joy onto her own lap with her physical arms, seating her beside her son. The movement made the girl flinch, but she eased out once she was sat down and comfy—especially with Sue right behind her with a beaming, almost tearful smile.

"Oh, my goodness..." Sue whispered, catching Joy's attention and further calming her with her happiness. "T-twinkle?" She looked around the table, and the ghostly bundle of a child immediately perked up. Within moments, they were scooting up Sue's body, holding her tight and relaxing at her touch. "Do you want to sit with Joy for a moment on Solstice's lap?"

The lil' ghost gave the question as much consideration as they could before declining in their own way—namely, by extending another pair of inky tentacles to hold Sue's torso with. The Mayor didn't mind, starting a chorus of 'awww's' at the sight, one without judgment or mockery, only added to further with Comet's bubbly babbling as he held his friend. Instead, Solstice gently stroked Joy's head and—inspired by Sue—her maw, too. The girl grew stiff at the latter, but soon relaxed, unable to resist how pleasant it felt, even when coming from someone she wasn't as close to as Sue.

"^Did you and Sundance end up talking about anything?^" the Mayor asked, taking Sue out of idly smiling at the sweet scene.

The younger Forest Guardian glanced over at Sundance, wordlessly asking if it was alright to talk about it—and received an immediate nod of confirmation. These were her struggles, after all. "Y-yeah, we did. It was... mostly about my family," Sue answered, smudging the truth somewhat. She didn't want to be dishonest with her mentor, but was afraid to bring up Aurora unprompted lest it would send them both into a very unpleasant territory again. "About my family, and how they kinda still haunt me."

"And haunting like that is ever miserable indeed," Sundance pointedly added, ruffling the fur on Spark's head.

Solstice didn't need to be a psychic to get the allusion, closing her eyes as she nodded. She couldn't deny that the topic still hurt; she didn't know if it would ever stop truly hurting. But it wasn't a pain she had to run away from, a pain she had to keep to herself. It would do neither her nor those she cared about any good, and she finally felt ready to confront that plain truth.

She took a deep breath, dispelled her son's worries with a gentle hair ruffle—and talked. "^Oh yes, it is miserable. I've... I've been thinking about Aurora,^" she admitted, bracing for the pain. It arrived soon after as if beckoned, but weak and muffled, defanged by having been summoned with words and not with ever-winding thoughts. "^I wanted to check up on her at the cemetery, maybe talk to her, but—but I couldn't push myself to. I promise I tried; I just didn't have the strength to take those final few steps. It feels like I should've pushed through regardless.^"

Sundance acknowledged her friend's words, giving her a small but proud smile. "You can try tomorrow, Solstice. It will hurt, but I am glad you're confronting those feelings. I believe in you, whether you succeed tomorrow or need more time still."

"A-and I believe in you too!" Sue added, upbeat and... proud. It was such a weird sensation to acknowledge for Solstice, unexpected and yet more comforting than she had the words for. The Mayor might have doubted whether tomorrow's attempt at talking to her daughter would end any differently than today's, but now she felt willing to give it an honest attempt.

And her pupil wasn't done yet, either. "And now that you've mentioned Aurora... *sigh*, we talked about her too," Sue admitted. Every single bone in her body screamed for her to shut up, to not make things even worse now that she'd admitted to something so dumb and embarrassing. The voices were winning, leaving Sue shuddering as she looked awkwardly at the grassy dirt,

Only for Solstice's words to dispel them all.

"^I understand. I can't—can't imagine all this is any easier for you, Sue.^" Solstice was struggling almost as much, internally debating whether to acknowledge what they were both feeling, the obvious and yet unspoken detail without which Sue's focus on Aurora didn't even make sense. It would've probably helped them both, but she didn't have the strength for it. Not today. But that didn't mean she couldn't express what she thought. "^I'm—I'm proud of you for mentioning this.^"

It was a painful sort of pride, one filled with regret at all this even being so difficult in the first place, but no less genuine because of it. And Sue could definitely tell. "Th-thank you, Solstice," she replied, fluttering her eyelids to abate any more tears for today.

Off to the side, Sundance found a moment to roll her eyes without being noticed. Not as much progress as she might have hoped, but more than she expected. The two Forest Guardians working through their respective ghosts wasn't the only thing on the vixen's mind, though. "I'm not gonna pry what you talked about with Willow, Sue, but... are you sure you're alright? You were terrified afterwards for a moment."

Oh boy, and here I hoped they didn't notice. Though...

Sue shivered at the recollection, nodding firmly. "Well, yes, I got quite spooked there. I was just tired and saw something weird in the woods. Nothing serious, but I do have a question unrelated to that."

Precisely nobody bought the pretense that the question about to be asked was unrelated to what had scared Sue, but none of the older women saw it fit to point holes in it. "^Go ahead, Sue,^" Solstice reassured.

"Is... is someone looking out for what Solanum and the rest of your family are up to?"

As composed as Sue had tried to remain when asking her question, some of her earlier fear still slipped through. Again, neither Sundance nor Solstice could blame her, with the latter answering soon after, "^I don't think so, no. I doubt they'll linger around for much longer after today.^"

Not the answer Sue wanted, but one she knew what to say in response to. "Well, I think it might be a good idea to have someone looking after them." She had many reasons to want that, but realized that one of them would be what the other two women would immediately leap to. "A-and yes, I know I'm still affected by what they had done today and Nightbane's entire f-fucking thing, and I'd be lying if I said this isn't contributing to me asking for it, but it's not my only reason. I'm seriously worried they have an ulterior motive for coming here, more so than just wanting to harass you, Solstice."

Hardly the most convincing argumentation in the world. Thankfully, it was still enough, if almost entirely thanks to that first, emotional reason. "^Alright,^" Solstice responded, hiding her incredulity. "^I'll ask for someone to keep track of them tomorrow. Astra would've been good at that, though she's unfortunately absent.^"

...

Of course.

Sue's eyes went wide. So that was why Root was so eager to send Astra on another scouting mission. He wanted her gone for a reason, and that reason must've been leaving Moonview without someone capable of spying or fighting Solanum and her band! She had no idea just how capable a fighter the dragon was, but her raw strength alone would've made her formidable, even against the invaders' psychics. This was it, this must've been it, the realization winding Sue up even more—

Something cold, slimy, and wriggly was touching her leg.

She had only barely kept herself from jumping at the sensation, rational mind cutting in with a candidate for who this sensation might've belonged to. And sure enough, said hunch was correct, turning Sue's panicked leap in the making into a weak, unnerved chuckle at seeing Basil's little one trying to slither along her leg. And, given that she'd never seen him be intentionally left on his own, meant that someone was probably looking for him.

And she was down to help return him to said someone, and air her mind at the same time.

"H-hey there, little guy," she faux-confidently greeted, carefully picking the brown caterpillar up. He was about as uncomfortable to hold as Sue would've guessed, especially with the constant squirming, but she tried not to pay that much mind—especially with him finally spotting her back once he was brought to within a few feet of her face, held at an arm's length.

As if a switch had flipped, confusion and agitation filling his not-yet-formed mind turned into calm happiness at recognizing someone. It didn't result in much change to his behavior, and especially didn't help with his squirming, but it was still appreciated. "Let's go find your dads, eh?"

Sundance's and Solstice's giggles were a pleasant backdrop for Sue getting up and turning away, but Joy was still unsure what was going on. She was torn between being interested in the brown caterpillar, and being skittish about her guardian walking away. Luckily, there just so was a course of action that satisfied both concerns—leaping off the Mayor's lap and breaking into a dash to catch up with Sue.

If the once-human had trusted herself to be able to carry the lil' bug in one hand, she would've kneeled to pet Joy once she'd caught up with them. But, in the absence of that, words had to suffice. "I'm here Joy, I'm here! Everything is alright, we're just helping our little friend find their dads—oh, and I think we found... uh, Basil's mate."

Her memory of names might've failed her, but she was sure the giant butterfly's appearance would remain seared into her mind forever, even past the shock of their... mutual introduction. Though, to be fair, that was true of almost everyone else in Moonview as well. As striking as their massive red compound eyes were, though, their vision didn't seem to be all that good. It took until Sue was within fifteen feet of them or so for them to finally make her—and the lil' bug in her arms—out.

Their emotions were much more dire than Sue had expected, but they didn't last. A chirping buzz of relief and joy filled the air as they dashed over, subsuming the grief and fear that had shone through earlier once they took the brown caterpillar into their tiny blue paws. Sue wasn't sure whether actual butterflies even had arms, but that was not a limitation this world cared about either way, so what did it matter? Either way, their son was as happy as his infant mind could express; the butterfly was ecstatically nuzzling their little one all over the underside of their head segment, and things were—

BIRCH! His name is Birch. Finally remembered.

—and things were good. Once Birch was done making their baby bug flail and squirm, he shifted his attention to Sue and Joy instead; the latter waving at him happily. Just like Sue earlier, he didn't have the spare arms to wave back at her, forcing him to express his greetings differently. He flapped his powerful wings a few times, the resulting gust of wind somehow ruffling Sue's hair even further and almost knocking Joy off her feet—to the girl's amusement, surprisingly. She half-squealed, half-growled something in return, and just like earlier, Birch responded with another gust of wind, letting out laughter-like buzzing all the while.

And if only the wind didn't contain some weird glitter that made Sue sneeze and feel itchy, she wouldn't have had any issues with it. Thankfully, Birch realized what was going on and spared the Forest Guardian a third Gust, flying over with mild concern. Joy was more overtly disappointed, but didn't let it get to her—especially when she still could play waving at each other back and forth with the caterpillar.

Sue wasn't even sure if her sneezing was Birch's fault, but either way, it was annoying more than anything. "Oh, I'm—I'm—*achoo!*—I'm good. *Sniff*, good Duck I wouldn't think my allergies would flare up hereeee—*achoo!*"

Not hearing any alarm in the Forest Guardian's tone, the big butterfly calmed down instead, flying back to keep his distance as the buzzes continued. Giddy but controlled and apologetic towards her, excitable towards Joy, and relieved towards the little one. It probably involved thanks of some sort, and Sue acted proactively by slightly bowing towards him in return.

His amusement hinted at her having either gotten his intent or the timing way, way off, but Sue was feeling too good—and too sniffly—to let that get to her.

Once Birch had flown off, his son buzzing in his paws all the while, Sue turned around towards their table—and saw it was already empty. She only caught a brief glimpse of Sundance and Spark before they disappeared behind buildings on their way back to their dwelling, leaving just Solstice and Comet walking towards them. For once, the latter was allowed to walk on the dirt and grass beside his mom. Or, at least, to try to walk beside her, constantly stumbling and stopping, tripping and falling, and failing all that—awkwardly waddling.

Still, progress! "Good job, Comet!" Sue smiled.

*squeeeak!*

His antics helped keep the atmosphere light once he and his mom had caught up to Sue, the two adults exchanging tired, but unfaltering smiles. The air between them wasn't perfectly clear yet, but they could look each other in the eye again. And just having that was more reassurance than either of them would've expected—or been comfortable admitting to themselves.

"^Is Birch doing alright?^" Solstice asked once Comet was just a few steps away from Sue.

"Oh? Why wouldn't he be?"

The Mayor hesitated for a while before admitting with a sigh, "^He has had a recent tragedy in the family, to my knowledge. I'm glad he's keeping positive through it, though I hope he'll talk with someone if it gets too much.^"

Sue winced, feeling bad about not having said something to reassure him in that case. Then again, aside from that instant of awful murk, he genuinely felt good at being reunited with his son, and not even in the pretend way she and Solstice were all too keen on. Maybe she would've only made it worse by bringing it up.

Yeah, I've had enough fretting about stuff like this for a while.

She had much more important things to be thinking about, after all. Things, and people. Shaking the previous topic aside, Sue looked straight at Solstice, with the older Forest Guardian noticing the attention and looking back at her after picking her son up into her arms. Once, she would've been terrified at those demonic eyes staring into her. Once, she would've been aghast at the idea of a 'real' Forest Guardian facing her like this. Once, she would've felt too guilty about everything they were both feeling to maintain eye contact for more than a shameful instant.

Once, but no longer.

Taking a bold step forward, Sue raised her hand and patted Solstice's shoulder. The older Forest Guardian wasn't familiar with the gesture, but she didn't flinch—Sue's intent was obvious. And so, so appreciated. Instead, the Mayor's eyes shone as her psychics embraced her pupil and oriented her into a side hug, gentle and warm to the touch. Not something the younger Forest Guardian would've done, but all the more reassuring because of it, the combined warmth undoing more of their respective insecurities than any dry chat.

Especially when accompanied by words. "I'm glad you—you're trying to face it all, Solstice," Sue whispered.

Her mentor beamed. "^Thank you, Sue. And I'm... I'm proud of you. I haven't said that enough, nowhere near enough. I'm proud of your intervention yesterday, of your determination to make things right in Newmoon, of how you've been looking after Joy and now Twinkle, too. I know none of that has been easy for you, but you've been trying your best each and every time. You're doing great things, and more importantly, you're a great person yourself. And I'm hardly the only one that thinks so~.^"

Sue had no idea when all these tears had snuck up on her, but she didn't have it in her to mind that much. She let them flow freely, basking in the warmth of Solstice's words. Twinkle and Joy were quick to notice what looked like distress, but the Mayor was on top of things, covertly whispering reassurances about their... their guardian being happy. Because she was happy.

She hadn't remembered feeling like this, this comfort, ever since that fateful memory Solstice had watched with her in the cemetery.

The sun was setting around them, but they didn't rush. Sue's eyes were puffy from tears, her cheeks glistened with sticky wetness, but neither of these facts mattered, neither of them could matter. Things were okay. She was okay, not just in the moment, but... in general. Inherently. It's been so, so long since she'd last allowed herself to think that.

"Th-th-thank you, *sniff*, Solstice..." Sue mumbled, voice unsteady and cracking.

"^You're very welcome, Sue. Feeling ready to walk back home?^"

Sue was taken aback at the nudge, but couldn't blame her mentor for it—the very last sliver of the sun had just crept its way behind the horizon, best not to waste any more time. "Y-yeah, I-I think I'm ready! How about you, Joy?"

The metal girl perked up, looking away from the beautiful shades of shifting sky above her and towards her guardian. "G-g-go, yes! Y-you happy?"

More than I know how to describe, Joy.

"Yes, yes I am, sweetie. And I hope you are, too!"

"Yeeees!" Joy squealed. "P-p-pretty, up!"

"^The sunsets are beautiful this time of the year, indeed. Imagine if you could capture all those shifting colors in a painting, or weave them into clothing.^"

Sue held in a chuckle—all the 'smart' junk back on Earth could probably do something like that, but even with all its wires and power usage, it still wouldn't have come close to the real thing. "That would be pretty, yeah. Wanna hop into my arms so that you can watch the sky?"

It wasn't even a question.


The route back to Solstice's tent wasn't a particularly difficult or busy one, especially with much of it passing through the outskirts of Moonview. Duck's altar was in the same state Sue had last seen it in. The flowers in front of the shattered wall were wilting, evidently untouched since before it went down, with nobody exactly certain on how to handle it now. She could only chuckle at the realization—and this time, Solstice was feeling confident enough to laugh along with her.

For all his excited wriggling, Comet didn't last long once their path grew dark, easing out more and more in his mom's arms. Joy, however, was still enthralled with the skies above, watching closely as the dark reds faded to purples, then blues, then finally darkness—and, at the other end of the heavens, to pinpricks of stars. The Moon was there too, its thick crescent silently watching over them.

And beside them, between the buildings, a trembling, dimly glowing bundle.

The younger Forest Guardian took a moment to come to after Solstice had pointed out the dim fear in a nearby alleyway, but once she knew where to probe with her tugging sense, she could sense it too. She could even tell who it belonged to based on that feeling alone! Or at least so she hoped—it was hard to deny the possibility of her sight influencing that 'hunch'.

"^Crackle? Are you okay?^" Solstice asked, kneeling beside him.

Sue had no idea how a fire could whimper, but the hidden glowing boy had managed to make that sound, regardless. Worryingly, he didn't react to the Mayor's words, leaving her unsure as her pupil tried her luck. "Crackle, did something happen to you?" It was the most obvious reason for Sue, and it wasn't like Moonview was lacking in suspects for having done such a thing, letting a few drops of anger into her thought process.

Not this time, though. "S-S-Sue! Nothing happened to me. I'm—I'm just afraid of the night," the lamp child answered, telepathy turning many tiny variations of hissing and crackling into tones and words.

Too bad it didn't help with making his answer make sense. "W-why?"

"Because Mr. Root told me the night kin are gonna be coming now! A-and that they're evil and they're gonna hurt us!"

Had Solstice been any more tired, the impulse to facepalm would've won. Sue, instead, was just left disappointed—but still somewhat hopeful. They were clearly listening to her, so maybe she could try to argue? "Oh no, that's not true, Crackle! Some of them are a little scary, sure, but they won't hurt you more than anyone else would."

Immediately, conflict filled his mind, a battle of 'he said' versus 'she said' that threatened to subsume him whole. "But how do you know that, Sue?"

"Because... I visited them a couple days ago, and they didn't hurt me!"

They didn't, only that fucking bird. And, well, Alastor had tried, but Crackle doesn't need to know that—

"Ooooohhh. I see," the bedsheet ghost sighed, picking himself up from the ground. Sue wasn't sure why he was even taking her assertions at face value instead of bringing up Sundance as a counterargument, but she wasn't about to argue with that. The mean side of her brain suggested it was because Crackle sure didn't feel like he got to talk much with anyone, but she was sure there had to have been a different explanation. "Won't they want to hurt me because I make light?"

Sue blinked. "What—oh no no no," she answered, trying to hold in giggles. "They don't sit in darkness all day."

Crackle gasped. "Oh! I didn't know that. Thank you, Sue!" Reassured, they hovered closer to her, carefully wrapping their black... limbs around her waist. Even beyond their uncomfortable warmth, they felt less like flesh and more like stiff metal, making their affection about as pleasant as hugging a kettle. Didn't matter, though—she was glad to have helped them out, especially since she hadn't gotten burned yet.

"Y-you're welcome, Crackle! U-um, gonna be lighting up the—"

"*GASP!* Yes, I almost forgot, thank you Sue!" Crackle jolted into the air. "Goodbye Sue, goodbye Mrs. S-S-Solstice!" Before either of them could respond, Crackle was already gone, his trek through Moonview heralded by the streets lighting up with a dim, purplish light.

As silly as this entire exchange had been, one detail in it had left Sue worried, even after they were on the move again. "Does he interact with Root often?"

Solstice sighed. "^Unfortunately, yes. Root's the one looking after him to the best of my knowledge. Mentors him, too—for better or worse, he's the best suited person in Moonview to do so.^"

Sue wasn't convinced how well that overgrown ferret was suited to mentoring anyone about anything that wasn't putting on a pointy white hat and matching robes, but she had little room to argue. And so, she didn't, letting that point fade into the night as they reached the Mayor's tent.

Joy grumbled about being taken indoors just as the stars were getting really visible, but her annoyance didn't last long in the light of her own drowsiness. Twinkle needed little prodding to fall asleep either, and all Comet required was being lowered into his cot. Before long, it was just the two Forest Guardians, exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally from a long, long day.

And yet, they felt good—better than they have in days.

In some ways, better than they have in years.

It wouldn't be long before Sue joined the two little ones beside her in unconsciousness. Still, she was hesitant to let go of awareness yet, even as warm as Solstice's affection had made her feel. Her fears from earlier in the day had been dulled, soothed, overshadowed, and weren't threatening to tear her psyche apart—but she was still curious about the catalyst behind them. "S-Solstice?" she whispered.

There were no words in response, merely a faint psychic touch on her head, accompanied by the other Forest Guardian's dimly glowing eyes opening to look at her.

"If it's not too much... what was Aurora like?"

Predictably, Solstice's eyes closed at the question, her emotions threatening to sour from their previous mute contentment. It hurt to think about, and Sue feared she'd inadvertently triggered another breakdown—but her mentor held through it. The Mayor wasn't sure if she'd be able to maintain this kind of focus when the time came to talk to Aurora, but she could cling onto it now. "^Always wanted to help everyone she ran into, no matter how much or how little she was really capable of it, hah.^"

A sniffle filled the silence, then another.

"^Loved to practice her psychics, even if they were quite hard for her. And...^" Solstice trailed off, breathing heavily. "^Could we talk about her more tomorrow? I'm not sure how much I can do it tonight, I'm afraid.^"

"Oh no no, it's okay," Sue whispered. "I really hope we can do that."

Her mentor opened her eyes again, looking at her with a soft, motherly expression. "^I'll try my best. It is long overdue.^"

And that's all Sue could ever ask for. "Thank you, Solstice. Sleep well."

"^May She keep your rest peaceful.^"


♪C A E♭ F♭ A E♭ F♭ G A E♭ B♭—♪

Sue kept her eyes closed as her hands played music on their own, putting her mom's guitar to good use. Even once she'd come to, she took her time opening her eyes to whatever awaited her this time—it's been a while since she last had the chance to just sit down and listen to something pleasant.

Alas, this un-reality would only indulge her for so long, with the individual chords growing disjointed before stopping altogether as her dreamed-up guitar skills had finally descended all the way down to her actual guitar skills. Killjoy.

Even with the music gone, she was still hesitant to look at what awaited her. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with Justice—or worse. How about a calm dream where it was just her, the kid—the little ones, Lilly, and a nice beach? Or a cafe? Or hell, even a decent chip shop. None of that, yet again, that much she was sure of without even having to open her eyes.

Into this replica of a replica of the place where I saw my mom alive for the last time.

Many of the surrounding details were growing almost distressingly familiar. To her right, a shadowy figure, the twisting darkness trying its hardest to coalesce into a vertically elongated shape but failing. To her left, just like in her last dream, Joy and Twinkle, still dancing and squirming in their seat even with the music gone. Just like the last time, they turned to her smiling and excited, waved at her—and were gone in the blink of an eye.

Before her, someone else. Someone like her.

Freezing dread filled Sue's mind as she took in the details of the stranger, so similar to what she was familiar with and yet so different. White body, green legs, short skirt of loose skin. Green hair falling onto their shoulders, twin red horns sticking out of their head, though not in the same way as with Comet. Taller than him, much shorter than her. Facing away from her.

As much as Sue tried to focus on them, she couldn't figure out who it was. She felt she should know, but she didn't, and each moment where the facts refused to click together only added more fuel to the quickly burning panic within her. Who was this; why were they so familiar!?

Before Sue knew, a Dark Void began to encircle her, closing in on her while her entire attention was focused on this shadow, this ghost before her. At last, they moved, twitching as if shocked as they lifted their head and began turning it towards her—

"BEGONE."

And then, a blink later, the shadow before her was gone, joining the usual two beside her. Sue panted as she caught her breath, panicking eyes looking around the scene in trying to figure out what was going on. The darkness was gone; the fire was back; everything was as usual—and Night Father was there, too.

Sue could faintly recall seeing Him a couple nights ago in a terrible, injured state, and He sure hadn't gotten any better since. His left arm hung limply from its shoulder, only attached to it with a handful of thin, dark threads. That aside, He was as usual—black body, white head, crimson collar and all, calmly watching the fire as He sat a respectful distance away from her.

The last time they had interacted didn't go the most... swimmingly. On one hand, that was decidedly His fault for siccing multiple cruel deities upon her in His dumb investigation, but on the other, He was just about the only celestial being that was genuinely trying to help her out, even if for His own reasons.

I just hope he isn't too upset with me.

Left unsure what to say, Sue broke the quiet with a greeting. "Um, good—good evening, Night Father?" At last, a reaction, His pale blue eye turning to focus on her.

"Greetings."

"Hi, hi. Uh, sorry for your arm?"

"Inconsequential. Gratitude towards you."

It took Sue embarrassingly long to realize what He was referring to, a nervous chuckle leaving her afterwards. She expected people to thank her for that, sure, but not... deities. "Y-you're welcome. So, uh... any reason for the visit, or just to say thanks?"

"Knowledge of the guilty party."

Sue froze at the admission, not expecting Him to have gone from blindly fumbling to figuring out the culprit in just a few nights. "A-are you sure? Who is it? Is—is it Justice?"

"Certain. Identity..."

His voice trailed off, almost as if uncertain. Sue didn't like this, not after Justice's many non-answers about which divine bastard had the bright idea to spirit away her, of all people. "Wh-who is it!?"

"Cannot answer."

She had had enough. "WHY!? I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF EVERYONE PLAYING THESE STUPID GAMES—"

"Remember last dream. When saw guilty, dream shattered."

...

"Wh-what do you mean? You mean our last dream t-together? I remember th-that fucking Justice douche talking to me with its dumb piece of paper, and then... Th-then—"

Sue tried to focus on what happened afterwards. She flexed every neuron her brain would allow her to, recalling everything up to when some unknown voice made her look over her shoulder. Then… nothing.

The same nothing as when trying to recall what happened before she ended up in this world. "W-wait, so that thing isn't even letting me know who it is!?"

"Almost certain. Apology inadequate answer."

If she hadn't already been so tired of swearing revenge on assorted celestial beings, she would've promised the deity responsible enough punishment to make Margaret Thatcher's eternal resting place seem like a five star resort. "It's—it's fine. W-wait, so it's not Justice?"

"Correct. Justice not likely cause. However, very likely meddling."

"S-so It has something to do with all this! It came in, has been bothering me in my dreams, brought even more pain and confusion into this entire mess and it wasn't even who brought me here!?" Sue half shouted, half begged for an answer, only barely keeping herself together.

"Correct."

None of this was making any sense. "B-but for what?"

"Revenge against the guilty party."

The same reasoning Justice Itself gave her when first talking to her. She had no reason to suspect Night Father was in cahoots with It, which meant that not only Justice didn't lie, but that It was fighting against the 'guilty party'. Sue's mind was much more keen to use more flowery descriptions for that unknown deity, but couldn't decide on which—or whether she ought to keep herself to under fewer than five swear words in a row.

Even that confirmation provided little relief. "So, Justice is just using me like a tool to get back at the 'guilty party', somehow?"

"Basing on knowledge of Justice—almost certain."

Sue felt sick, and so did her imagination. With the stage now set beyond any doubt, it inspired new exciting and terrifying possibilities for what might've been going on. The most harrowing one of all was one where whoever had sent her here was the 'good' one, and Justice was the actual 'evil' she would have to somehow defeat in her stay here. Did it make any sense? Hell no.

Was her mind feeling capable of coming up with anything better? She sure fucking wished. "None of this makes any sense..." she whimpered, distraught.

"Guilty party, very annoying. Justice, very petty."

The mental image of being used as a cudgel for one asshole to beat another asshole with sure is thrilling.


Sue shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Wh-what now? I'm—I'm not sure what to do with this knowledge."

"Long term, continue as were. Only Justice knows its plan. Short term, want confirm."

"C-confirm what?"

"Knowledge of guilty party destroy dream."

She nodded idly, not particularly caring about His experiments. Guess in the best-case scenario, she'd have her hollow answer, a name to curse but which she had no hopes of ever hurting in the waking world. Otherwise—assuming she understood His explanation—she'd just wake up.

That sure sounded nice after having been through all this. "Sure, go ahead."

"Certain ready?"

"Not like I'm waiting for much in this cruel fucking joke of a place—"

Sue blinked.

The dawn creeped across the walls of Solstice's tent, and it was beautiful.



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Interlude V: Velocity



Something very important, huh?

The Windrider sighed as she opened her eyes once more, her faint psychic grasp lifting Latch's letter before her yet again. She'd read and re-read it dozens of times, unable to stop thinking about it even as the sun set around her. Despite her many attempts to rest, sleep refused to arrive, just like her friend's words refused to leave her mind.

The excitement therein wasn't anything unusual for him. However, it was almost always aimed towards his research—and even then, only when he had confirmed a discovery or another. To see it regard something concerning her, and sensitive enough for him to refrain from describing it... left her confused.

For what could even be out there that truly concerned her anymore?

The thought cut through her idle pondering. The shrieks of her friend's letter getting creased in her psychic grasp broke the silence. It hurt to think about, but was a valid consideration. For all the years they've known each other, Latch knew little about her. Definitely not for the lack of trying, either. She was a friend to him, a title she held with joy. At the same time, he also treated her like a puzzle, a living box of secrets and mysteries that had grasped his curiosity and refused to let go.

His nickname for her—a single sound his language approximated to 'V'—was the closest he'd ever gotten to glimpsing one of said secrets. She remembered being annoyed at it once; angry that he'd overheard her drunken reminiscing of the conversations she'd had with her kin over a millennium ago and had somehow figured out which of the whistled, growled sounds corresponded to her name.

Nobody would ever utter it ever again; the intricacies of its pronunciation lost to anyone not of her kin. Nobody was to even try, either. For their names were sacred, gifts from the emerald deity of dragons itself.

And yet, the Windrider was glad Latch kept trying.

It wasn't much; he would never even get close, but... it was a connection. One much closer than she'd had with anyone since the tragedy that had devoured the archipelago she'd just made her pilgrimage to. She doubted she would ever meet someone like him again, someone so willing to chip away at her defenses, so determined to find out more about her as a person and not a demigod or a being of legend. Too stubborn to ever bounce off her aloofness. Maybe one day she'd finally crack, finally open up, finally admit to the most terrifying truth of all—

That, between her solitude and fraying memories, there just wasn't much to her anymore.

Anyhow.

She let go of his letter and closed her eyes once more, focusing on the sounds of the ocean. She'd maintained her determination for an impressive two minutes before curiosity reared its head again. And, once more, it honed in on the subject of Latch's message.

The best—and most unrealistic—scenario would be the news of more of her kin having been found by some distant exploratory mission. The Windrider considered it only for a moment before shaking the thought aside. She had already lost many, many decades to futile searching. The last thing she needed was to fall into that hole again.

So, if not that, what else? Very few even remotely plausible ideas sprang to mind, and she had lived far too long to derive any pleasure in outlandish speculation anymore. Or, at least, so she thought. Perhaps she just hadn't had any topics interesting enough to daydream about in the recent past; her mind suffocated by idle reminiscing, regrets, and... less than pleasant sights surrounding her whenever she stayed with Latch.

Not from him, thankfully. As far as the dragon was concerned, her friend was the shining star of his people; the very best and most thoughtful that Golden Sky had to offer. Sadly, all that meant that whenever she looked out the windows from his workshop, whenever she descended from his tower, whenever she attempted to talk to anyone, she only saw misery.

Castes upon castes. A vast empire, fueled by forced labor in its many vassal territories. Ruled by bureaucrats who have long since lost the ability to perceive their people as anything but an amorphous mass to be assigned and optimized. Whether there were any noble ideas left in its heart, any of the light she had once seen in its people when it was but a single settlement...

The Windrider didn't know.

She didn't want to think about it, either.


With her train of thought sufficiently chilled by the unpleasant topic, sleep didn't take long to arrive. It was arduous, bereft of either physical comfort or emotional calm, but it was there. She was used to it, really. Rest was something mortal beings experienced, something she was by her very nature above.

Which wasn't true in the slightest. But sometimes, when she really tried hard to, she could just about delude herself into thinking so. It was easier that way, to pretend she had never lost anything and her current state was just how she'd always been—broken and restless.

There was bliss in that doomed finality, release from any effort to even try to move on. It wasn't ever strong enough to overcome her profound exhaustion, but that was a minor detail.

Like many times before, the Windrider woke up before dawn, already protectively curled up and shrouded by her reflective down. After pulling her body out of its defensive posture, she cleaned up the space around herself and finished the leftover provisions she couldn't force into her stomach the previous evening. If today would go as planned, she'd arrive in Golden Sky before noon, get comfortable in what was once a storage room in Latch's workshop—now her makeshift den—and preferably stay there until the next full moon.

While listening to Latch go on about whatever he'd discovered, of course.

The thought provided just the kick needed to wrap up her meal and clean up everything she could after herself. Latch's letter, shed down and feathers, any crumbs large enough for her keen eyesight to spot. All of them were grasped with her psychics, crushed, incinerated with a few wisps of dragonfire, and their ash discarded into the wind. Until, at last, no signs of her presence had remained.

Until, at last, she had joined her kin in being but a ghost.

With her ghostly host not seeming to be around, the Windrider closed the door to the tiny outpost and flew off. The earliest tinges of light were brushing against one end of the sky, wordlessly guiding her on where to go. Westward, towards the jewel of the empire. Away from the light. Outracing the sunrise for just that bit longer.

Each mile to the west brought her further and further into skies and seas she recognized, the increasingly familiar path getting rid of at least that source of stress. She was certain she could traverse the rest of the way there with her eyes closed, guided solely by her sense of place in the world. Or, if she were to be mean—and not undeservedly so—by her nose alone.

The juvenile thought forced the briefest of chuckles from her snout; the sound utterly dwarfed by the deafening rush of wind brought on by her flight. As much as she wanted to sprint the rest of the way there as fast as her aging body would allow, it was in hers and Latch's best interest to avoid being noticed as much as possible, and that demanded more conservative velocities.

Being exposed to the Golden Sky's ships and the forced labor force that powered them for any longer than necessary was regrettable, but it wasn't what annoyed her the most. It was the sun, rapidly gaining ground on her and lighting up the surrounding skies. Oh, how it burned, from Wiki purple to Pecha pink; from Sitrus yellow to Rawst blue. A divine spectacle, possibly the only one in the entire small world that hadn't ever ceased to fill her with awe.

She hated it. It made her reminisce.

How many nights she had spent talking with Love about the nature of mortal and divine existence, how many days she had spent resting in the ornate shrine the pink-shelled deity had called home. How many dawns she had watched by her side, exhausted, exhilarated, sometimes even exasperated. Too many to count—or forget. The cruel reality of that fact filled the dragon's white and red body with rage.

Tried as she might to contain her emotions, they only kept building up, handily winning the fight against her usual detachment. They screamed for release, one she finally granted them once the any and all ships were firmly past the horizon. Thunder after Thunder obscured her cries as it boiled the waters below, promising to relieve her fury but only adding to it while draining her strength.

Love wouldn't have wanted her to do this, to degrade herself to Valor at His worst. The thought stung, cutting her display of impotent wrath short. And with it stopped, the feelings it had been obscuring were finally allowed to resume.

And so, the Windrider wept, resuming her invisible flight.

The only thing that hurt more than losing them all was knowing what happened to them afterwards. She might not have been successful in finding her kin, but with time, she had tracked down the whereabouts of the husks that used to be her friends and mentors. Most of them, at least.

Passage had been swept away in the waves She once reigned over, carried by the tides until making landfall. The suffocating mists She had brought with Herself drove away all those who once lived near, and the briny tears endlessly spilling from Her shell had eroded the very land beneath Her. To the best of the Windrider's knowledge, She was still in the same spot over two centuries later, sinking into the earth and poisoning the groundwaters, surrounded by endlessly growing crystals of salt.

Hers was the most merciful end of the ones the dragon knew for certain.

Love's lust for life and cruelty alike had persisted, even with her mind gone. Drawn to the former, only to inflict the latter upon it. All who as much as saw Her were subjected to incapacitating mental torture, ending only with their deaths or an exceedingly lucky escape. Beyond just sentient beings, however, Her curse extended to all that was alive. Plants flayed and withered, the soil grew barren, fungi turned into ash; the air itself was brought to a standstill.

She was the most dangerous and the hardest to track; Her bond with Her islands intense enough for any disturbance to draw Her attention. Sometimes, what followed was a Teleport across the globe—a display of psychic power obscene enough to glass the sterile sand all around her—followed by swift death of whatever fool that thought it wise to disturb the cursed land. But only sometimes.

Bloom, on the other hand, remained unaccounted for. Year after year, decade after decade, all spent scouring the shores of the surrounding continents in search of Him, with nothing to show for it. The dragon's best guess was that He was terrorizing the depths of the ocean, a place not even she could reach.

Valor's fate was the most violent one, as befit Him. Locked into an unending, fiery rage, His movement throughout the globe used to be as unpredictable as the lightning itself. One day, He would circle the same spot in the middle of the ocean; another, he would race straight towards the nearest coastal settlement before blasting it into shreds and hunting down everyone trying to escape.

Golden Sky averting that fate—and containing what remained of Valor—made the Windrider pay attention to them.

According to their boastful legends, their mine was sacred, blessed with unending ore, with their city having grown around it. The truth, to the best of the dragon's knowledge, was... less glamorous, but broadly the same. There was a scar in reality going through those caverns, forever changing and renewing them—and forever trapping any soul unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Mining was a crucial job, relegated to prisoners and vagrants; their mummified remains doomed to be one-day discovered in a 'new' tunnel of this Mysterious Dungeon the Golden Sky viewed as hallowed.

Realizing they could not fight against the husk of a deity, the rulers of Golden Sky staked everything on their sacred mine. Valor was lured there, body after body, until He was far enough in for the unending caves to trap Him. It was a costly, nigh-pyrrhic victory, costing thousands upon thousands of lives, as well as their main supply of raw ore.

And if that was where their involvement ended, the Windrider might have even found them respectable.

There have been talks—still rumors, at this point—of tapping into the trapped deity's unending wrath and His raw electric power. The mere thought of one of her mentors being reduced to a pile of charcoal in a furnace disgusted her. She knew her opinion wouldn't amount to anything, though.

After all, she was just like Him—a ghost of an age long past, thrashing aimlessly in a world that was no longer her home.

...

...

Onward.



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Chapter 34: Charity



For once, Sue woke up early enough for everyone else to still be asleep, even despite the creeping dawn. It took her a few minutes of staring upwards in a daze to finally recall what had happened in her dream before she was suddenly pulled out of it. The gash in her recent memories where the events that transpired should've been didn't reassure her any. Once she'd pieced it together, though, she just sighed and got comfortable on her bedding.

Seems Night Father was right, after all.

That answered one mystery, but so many others remained. Mysteries that not even having the identity, fingerprints, and mugshot of the responsible deity would have explained, but which still burned her psyche to think about. Why was she the one thrust into this world? Why was she being taunted with her memories being kept from her, over and over again? The questions hurt to think about, no less so even after Night Father's recent assistance, but... Sue didn't let them get to her. Not this time.

Yes, she wanted to know the answers and hoped she'd get them one day, but they didn't matter anywhere near as much as what she had right beside her. She carefully reached to stroke Joy's maw with one hand as the other brushed its fingers against the canvas of Twinkle's bag. No matter the reason for her god-given task, no matter their excuse for putting her here, in this dangerous world where she'd brushed against death more in days than she had in years back on Earth, she was here now; she had people, big and small, caring for her. And she cared for them in return.

As far as she was concerned, this was her actual mission here, her grand goal in this world. To help these two lil' oddballs feel loved and cared for, to make positive change around her wherever she could, maybe to even help Moonview and Newmoon mend some of their scars—not because an asshole god told her so, but because she wanted to help, however she could.

All that and more could come later this morning, though.

Hopefully Solstice won't mind if I snooze a bit...


A few hours later, the first part of Sue that awoke from her nap was her nose. The thick, peppery smell of yesterday's breakfast filled the air once more, now somehow even more intense. Her ears chimed in shortly after, noticing the distant murmur of a well-awake town, the quiet crackling of flames, and diligent scraping of a wooden spoon as it stirred the pot's contents. All those would've been lovely on their own, but occasional interjections from a shrill, harsh, girly voice, responded to by a smoother, older, more sing-song voice only made the scene incomparably more pleasant.

Triply so once the latter voice had noticed Sue having woken up, and extended the tent's telepathic translation to her.

"Wh-wh-what... umm, red a-and yellow?" Joy asked, uncertain.

"Red and yellow?" Solstice responded, unsure. There was faint shuffling in response, quickly interrupted by the Mayor cautioning "Careful Joy, the pot is very hot. Here, let me levitate some of the chopped veggies—"

"Th-this one!"

"Ah! That's a carrot, sweetie. They're really sweet, and orange," the older Forest Guardian explained.

Joy tried her best to pronounce the sounds she'd heard. "Orh-rgh-oooorhhha—"

"Oooooorange," Solstice repeated, an audible smile in her voice.

"Orgh—orhange?"

"You got it, Joy! Their color is orange, between red and yellow. Any other veggies you wanna know more about?"

*yaaaaaaaaaawnnnn—*

Sue didn't realize the sound came from her until she felt the focus of the rest of the room home in on her, the little toothy girl included. A smile crept on her face as she heard Joy get up from her seat and walk closer. Before long, her little hands were clumsily patting against her chin to catch her attention. At first slowly, then increasingly faster as Sue's smile grew without her responding.

"Joy, I think Sue still wants to rest some—"

"No no, I'm okay, I'm okay," Sue giggled, finally prying her eyes open and squinting at the metal child beside her. "Good morning Joy, good morning Solstice." Joy responded with a shrill, excited squeak before kneeling and pulling all she could reach of the sleeping Forest Guardian into her arms. Sue couldn't resist laughing in response as she held the girl close and sat up. A quick check determined Twinkle to still be asleep, snuggled up to her torso. "Someone's really excited to see me," she smiled.

"Goo-ood mh-mhorning!" Joy responded, excited about having pronounced the words right—and about her guardian being awake, of course.

Once Sue had finished rubbing the sand out of her eyes, she slid to the edge of her bed and sat the girl comfortably on her lap. As if on autopilot, one hand let itself be gripped by the tip of her maw as the other carefully pet Joy's front head, the little one's relaxation downright palpable for her psychic senses. Twinkle themselves was creeping closer to awareness after Sue had sat up, but wasn't there yet—giving her a perfect opportunity to check in on Solstice.

Their eyes met each other as they put on their most confident smiles, neither as unerringly upbeat as they would've wanted. And that was okay. They had a lot to talk about later today, and Sue was glad to not sense much hesitation in the older Forest Guardian at the thought of having that important conversation. Either way, that was for then, and now they were here; they were feeling okay, and more than anything else, they were glad to see each other.

"How was your rest, Sue?" her mentor asked, redirecting her gaze down at the pot before her.

I could go on and on about that, but something tells me the last thing Solstice wants to hear right now is the melodrama of gods squabbling with one another for unknown reasons.

Sue stretched in her seat, and Joy followed in tow, mimicking her motions. "Had quite a dream and woke up early, but overall I'm quite good. Whattcha making?"

"Thickening yesterday's leftovers, adding some spices to soften the flavor, and we'll be having them with some bread," Solstice explained, nudging Sue's attention to a small loaf of what looked like cornbread. "Gotta make the most out of it, ha."

As spicy as her last breakfast was, Sue most definitely didn't mind having some more of it. She absentmindedly nodded at her mentor's explanation, before looking down at Twinkle's gradually creeping tentacles wrapping around her and smiling widely. "Hello there, Twinkle. I hope you slept well." Taking care not to disturb them too much, she unwrapped the knot that kept them attached to her torso—and her skin most definitely appreciated it.

The little ghost wasn't as talkative as Joy, but they didn't lack in ways of expressing their affection and gratitude for their guardian's wishes—if at the cost of some of the affection going the metal girl's way. They reached up to the hand that was currently dispensing affection toward Joy's front head, and pulled on it with all their might, managing to nudge it just enough to lower it down between themselves and the other little one. At last, their reward, Sue's hand, theirs to wrap themselves around. And Joy's to pet in return, letting her have her revenge.

A revenge that Sue couldn't get enough of—and probably never would.

"Goodness, I'm so happy to have you two," Sue sighed dreamily. The little ones were happy, too, expressing that by holding her hand even tighter. Sweet as the sight was, though, the younger Forest Guardian knew full well today would have a lot more in store than just observing the tykes' antics, even excluding the difficult discussion she was hoping to have. "So, how's the aid to Newmoon looking?" she asked. "Lilly mentioned it yesterday, and I was curious."

To her relief, Solstice didn't seem taken aback at all, maintaining her calm as she switched to telepathy and explained. "^The current plans are to wrap our preparations in the morning, and head out around noon. If I were to hazard a guess, all the supplies are already individually prepared. It's just a matter of figuring out the transport for them all, and prioritizing what we take.^"

Only good news, just the balm Sue's mind needed. "That's great news! Is transport gonna be the bottleneck?"

"^Potentially, yes,^" Solstice answered, chewing through the question in her head. "^Thankfully, I reckon we have enough strong, eager hands to carry everything we'd want to there—can't imagine having to leave anything behind for a future round of aid.^"

The Mayor stirred the pot some more once she'd answered Sue's question, only to stop herself at realizing she'd forgotten something. "^Aside from stone and lumber. We have a few people strong enough to carry it, but it might still be a better idea to carry only a minimal amount of them this first time. Can't imagine anyone in Newmoon having much need to build much right now—^" she stopped herself, wincing at having made yet another assumption. "^Actually, best to just ask what they'll need in the immediate future once we arrive.^"

That sounded reasonable as far as Sue went, and her mentor catching herself brought a tiny, but well-meaning smirk to her face. Though, there remained one part of the entire aid undertaking that she was woefully uncertain about, selfish as it was—herself. She hoped it wouldn't be an issue if she tagged along, but the multi-hour walk from Moonview to Newmoon would pose a challenge even if she were to just walk along them. And after her mentor having discouraged Lilly's younger sister from doing just that yesterday, Sue doubted her odds would be much better.

Still, no way but to ask. Guess I'll never stop learning that lesson the hard way, will I?

"Actually, I had a question. Would it be alright if I tagged along with you all?" Sue asked. Her true motives might have been... less than perfectly innocent, what with Lilly also helping in the effort, but she hoped Solstice wouldn't be able to see through them so easily.

Solstice sharply inhaled through her nose in amusement. "^Yes, of course, Sue, why not? Just would have to ask someone to look after Joy and Twinkle. Sundance already agreed to look after Comet, and I don't think she'll say no to your little duo. Besides, if she's gonna