Poisonous Fox

Naturally, I refused to share my secrets.

I would be mothersworn if I revealed my trump card, my Illusions, or anything else that I had yet to share. But then again, I could not just remain silent, at least not while expecting cordial, non-violent, relations. An added difficulty was that Muleater could potentially detect falsehoods.

Truly, my options were limited.

Likely, I needed to give her something. But, did that mean I needed to give it for free? Why should I share, when she has not? She had abilities, she had marks of her own. An unequal trade of information, that was what she offered. And I was no fool. I had a path forward.

Naturally, she refused. But an impasse was still preferable to revealing my hand.

Evening soon came, and with it, the infested returned, tossing gourds and cuts of raw meat down to the floor. Fortunately, they threw towards the center of the pit, and away from the corner Muleater used to relieve herself.

Before the infested had a chance to leave, I shouted up to them, while broadcasting as much indignation and curiosity and piteous emotion I could muster, all in the hopes that they might provide me better accommodations, away from Muleater.

“Why am I down here?!” I shouted up at them.

But they remained silent. However, that did not mean that they failed to respond, for seconds later, I scented something akin to ‘patience.’

They wanted me to be patient? Or were they talking amongst themselves, and I merely ‘overheard’ them?

Of course, my vocalizations drew Muleater’s ire.

“Heh. Think they’re gonna answer, girl?” Muleater asked.

She found a wrapped bundle that had been tossed down and began rummaging through it. She passed me a gourd, presumably full of water, while she kept the hard canned biscuits and left the raw meat to me.

“Disgusting,” she said, sniffing at the meat.

The meat could almost remind me of bacon, or ham. Though it was no pork. It was filled with purple ligaments and off-colored stripes of fat.

I also shared Muleater’s distaste, but I was beginning to learn to accept my new biology, and my new dietary requirements. So I humored her.

“Because it’s raw?” I asked.

“No, well, that too,” she said. “But it’s the source of it that’s bad.”

“Why’s that?” I asked. I still was not exactly sure where the meat came from, but I thought it was a meohr, or what the humans used as mules.

She spat. “It’s nearly cannibalism.”

I eyed her. Dubiously. I had literally eaten Kissen in front of the humans.

“Look, I might expect that outta you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to commit it. It’s bad. Wrong.”

“But… it’s not from a human…?”

“Close enough. Crown save me from explaining it. It’s bad enough that Kate eats that shit.”

Interesting. So Kate’s interests were not aligned with Muleater. And it sounded like Kate might still be alive, at least from the tense used. Muleater failed to sound depressed when mentioning Kate, which indicated that Kate might still be alive.

Though why I cared, I was unsure.

Muleater took the biscuits and a gourd, and she scuttled off to her lean-to. She mumbled, “godslovin’ freaks,” under her breath as she left.

I decided I would

My stomach rumbled. I was hungry. And the food was already there. It would be a waste to turn my nose up at it, even if it was raw. I tore into the strips, not even realizing blood dripped down my chin. I washed it all away with water from the amphorae, some of the sweetest water I had ever tasted. If this was what getting captured was going to be like, I might not be terribly opposed.

Though they could still put me somewhere nicer than this pit.

Later that evening, Muleater relieved herself. In the furthest side of the pit from her lean-to. I turned my back to give her the illusion of privacy. The noises… were not genteel.

“The fiberless shit always turns my stomach,” she complained, referring to the wet and gross biscuits she had eaten.

I nodded weakly, unsure of how to respond, except to be grossed out.

Though Muleater was not through, even though she was squatting, and releasing… things.

“Guess the meat sat well with you?” she asked.

A particularly audible release sounded.

I winced, but nodded again.

Eventually, she finished. Thank Mother for that.

Muleater wiped her hands on the loose vegetation which she then threw over the corner.

“Well?” she asked.

“Hm?” Unsure of what she was after, I could only hum to demonstrate confusion. My thoughts raced to all the terrible things she could be meaning to ask. After that performance, my own stomach twisted.

“Your turn.” She looked at me expectantly. When it became clear I was missing her point, she grunted, “Whatever. Don’t expect savages to know manners anyhow.”

She stomped back to her lean-to. Not long after, her breathing settled, and I assumed she slept. Likely lightly. If I wanted to, I could kill her. Likely. Maybe. At least hurt her, or draw muck on her face. And yet, she still slept. Was it a ruse? Or did she genuinely feel such exhaustion that she would take that risk.

I pondered this as I found my own corner of the wall to curl up.

It was cold, and I slept fitfully that night, with almost memories plaguing my dreams. They felt so effervescent. I could almost grab them, remember them, recall my sister, recall my… I awoke with a shudder.

And when I woke up, I found a coarse cloth covering me, providing a modicum of warmth. Where had the cloth come from? I was hesitant to call it a blanket, but it was appreciated all the same.

Muleater was up and stretching.

She saw me lifting the blanket.

“Guess one of ‘em took pity on you,” she said. “Sure as gods wasn’t me.”

Apparently, the infested had been down in the pit while we slept. At least if I was to trust what Muleater was saying. Perhaps, perhaps the reason that Muleater could trust herself to sleep the night before was that she knew our lives were already at the hivemind’s mercy. But even then, the infested hivemind and my own agency were independent.

I needed to make sure she knew that the hivemind and myself were separate entities, lest she take her frustrations with them out upon me.

While I pondered, Muleater spoke an observation.

“You don’t piss or shit, do you?” she asked, or more stated.

“Pardon?” I said, taken aback.

“I’ve been watching, trying to figure you out. You probably didn’t know the customs, one turn for another and all that. But I had some suspicions, thinking back on it. I never remember you actually making waste. Is that one of your Marks?”

I swallowed saliva, wetting my mouth, before I remembered I still had some water left in the gourd. I took a drink and wiped my chin. I guessed there was no point in really lying about it at this point. She would just be watching me from here on out, which would only lead to further distrust. I might as well tell her.

“I’m not sure if it’s from the Mark,” I said. “But no, I don’t make…” I grimaced in disgust, “waste.”

She scoffed. “Takes all sorts.” And she shook her head.

Not long after, we were interrupted by the Jungleborn guard.

Muleater’s face fell. She swore. “Gods take it.”

“What?” I asked.

She groaned and just shook her head. “Infesting us probably,” she might have whispered.

“Hnn–uh-uhp,” the infested guard said in his halting, cracking voice. He threw down the ladder once more.

Both Muleater and I eyed the rope ladder with some trepidation, unsure of what the infested planned. I could tell Muleater was more nervous than I, but I was still unsure about the whole situation. Not that it mattered, my feelings.

“You first girl,” Muleater said. “I’ll be right behind.”

I groaned in protest, but complied all the same.

I climbed the ladder, where I found well over twenty of the infested serving as sentries, including hundeor, and two infested human guardsmen. I kept silent, though prepared to try an Illusion if things went south. From the scent, nothing seemed dangerous. But the entire situation had me on edge.

“This the end of the line?” Muleater asked as she came up behind. “Surprised it didn’t come sooner.”

“Hnn–Nhoo,” the nearest infested guard said, and not the same who had tossed down the ladder. He pointed at us, then away from the pit, towards the center of the valley. “Wwhaalhk.”

I gave a confused shrug and began cautiously to walk in the direction indicated. An infested hundeor walked directly before me to direct my path, while others flanked me.

Muleater hesitated, and was shoved forwards for her trouble.

“Alright, I’m moving,” she grumbled. Then under her breath, “I know you can hear this girl. Get ready to move on my signal.”

What? “No,” I said. “Just wait. I don’t think it’s bad.”

“How would you know?” she derided a bit louder than she ought to have.

She likely failed to realize that even if the infested hivemind failed to hear her intentions, that they would likely be able to smell them, or however else they perceived the world. They were not audible creatures, at least so far as I could discern.

“Just a feeling,” I replied to her, again insisting that she only comply, and take no aggressive actions.

Surprisingly enough, she listened. Though not without complaints.

“Gods loving animals, Crown save me.”

We arrived at a pond at the center of the valley, a shallow one, with a putrid gelatinous mound rising from the center. I thought I could see tendrils writhe in the mound, though the water itself was completely pure.

“This is gonna be it,” Muleater groaned.

“Just wait,” I insisted, noticing a trail that went around the pond. A trail which we were now being led on.

Fifteen minutes later, nothing happened, and we were a quarter the way around the pond. Soon, we were halfway around. And then, we were back where we started.

“What was even the purpose of this?” Muleater asked. “Are they walking us like… pets?” she sounded disgusted.

“Stretching the legs?” I said. I refrained from mentioning that it was the exact same thing the humans had done to the Kaiva and myself. Though it felt like a better walk this time around. Judging by that alone, I would say the infested were superior pet owners. Not that I would ever consent to being anyone’s pet. That was just degrading. Humiliating even. Feelings which Muleater might be struggling with herself.

“Gods take it and this blasted fate!” she swore, beginning to lash out.

The infested grabbed her from behind. “Hkk-qu-hh–et,” it said.

She growled, pulled away and shoved back, but made no more aggressive moves. The infested gave her some space. Soon, we were walking back towards the pit, and my stomach turned. That pit was fetid and nasty and I wanted nothing to do with it. Which is why I was somewhat pleased, when an infested guardsmen pulled me aside, off the path.

Muleater paused as well, but the Jungleborn behinder her pushed her forwards, insisting that Muleater keep walking.

“But, the kid?” she asked, referring to me, curiously enough.

The infested continued insisting with their broken voices, growing more aggressive in their motions, clearly communicating their intentions should either Muleater or myself fail to follow orders.

And still, Muleater looked like she was ready to ‘throw down.’ Was this for my sake, or was she solely looking for an excuse. I worried that if she acted out and rebelled, that I would be dragged along with her and the consequences.

I had to keep her from acting rashly.

She acted like she had never been a captive before.

It was the basics, comply, earn rewards, and avoid punishment.

The trick was knowing who called the shots, and in this case, it was the hivemind.

“Listen to them,” I told her, irritated with her own naivety.

“-but,” she started to protest.

I cut her off. “Keep going, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure kid?” she asked. “You know infestation is probably worse than death, right?” She eyed one of the guards skeptically.

“Hnn–ihs not,” they protested.

“That’s–I just don’t think they would have spared me this long to hurt me all a sudden. It should be fine,” I reasoned.

She hesitated, but another shove sent her stumbling forward. “Alright! I’m going. Crown burn you, I’m going!”

And then she was walking past, towards the pit and the ladder.

Meanwhile, the infested held me aside, and I waited in confusion.

After Muleater was secured, they soon led me in a direction I recognized. Towards the creature. I really needed a proper name for them.

Towards the hivequeen.

Whatever the outcome was, I absolutely needed to make a better introduction.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (1/9)

Featherlight (5/9)

Stealth I (4/9)

Trackless Tracks (8/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver (2/9)

Evasion (6/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (6/9)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)