System Lost: My Own Best Friend

Despite my exhaustion, I can't do much more than toss and turn restlessly in the stiff bunk. It's not the bed—which is a solid six out of ten on the scale of places I've slept in this world. Probably third best after Maari's guest room and Kiera's futon. Nor is it the gentle rocking of the boat on the river.

No, my restlessness is entirely my own fault. My mind is swimming with thoughts and ideas, and I can't keep them contained any longer!

"What about...Alvima?" I ask.

"What are we, an elf or something?" Maggie scoffs. "No."

"That does sound a bit high-fantasy," Vi agrees. "How about just Avm?"

"That's just our initials," I sigh. "And in a weird order, too. I don't want our name to be boring!"

"It's not boring," she protests. "It's practical!"

"A name that's just a random assembly of letters that Fa'aun can't even pronounce isn't practical."

"Don't act all high and mighty," Maggie interjects. "Your idea was just our initials in Fa'aun!"

Oops! She caught me.

"And you left out E'ava!" she adds.

"Please leave me out," Evie sighs. "I will repeat it as many times as necessary—I'm not one of you."

It's practically a mantra for her now. As much as I'd like to let her have her way, I don't want to encourage her to keep distancing herself from us like that. It's a tough balance.

"Good point," I say. "We need a name that represents all of us—even Evelyn."

"Do we?" Maggie complains. "I'm fine with just introducing ourselves as ourselves. You don't have to name us just because a buff goat lady told you to."

I roll my eyes. "I bet you'd be singing a different tune if it was Talla."

"Yeah, and?"

...

It's hard to argue when she just owns it like that.

At the sound of her name, Talla glances up from the book she's reading in the bunk next to us.

"Yes?" she says. "I'm not using the translation spell, so you'll need to speak Fa'aun if you need me."

"Sorry," I reply, switching back to Fa'aun. "We were talking about a name for ourselves."

"Mine's already taken," she comments blithely, turning her gaze back to the little leatherbound tome. I can't read Fa'aun yet, so I'm not sure what it says on the cover.

I snicker at the joke. "Well darn, I'll have to think of something else."

"How about Maev?" Maggie suggests.

I'm about to blast her for suggesting yet another combination of our initials, but something about the name tickles my brain.

"Like the mythological queen?" I ask.

"Holy shit you're such a nerd," Mags teases. "Yeah, sure. The faerie queen or whatever."

"Actually, she doesn't have any association with fair folk," I correct her. "That's a modern interpretation that only comes from one or two popular fiction authors. There's no historical—"

"Oh my goddess, Allie, shut up," Maggie giggles. "It's a good name, though, right?"

Honestly, it's not bad. I kind of like it. It's cute, it has ties to our home, and it represents all four of us—albeit in the lamest way possible. I feel like I might even have some small connection to the place that name comes from, but it's not strong enough to overcome the spongy holes in my memory.

"Maybe," I hedge. "What about you, Vi? Evie?"

"It's as good as any," Vi says, probably as much to be done with the conversation as anything.

"It sounds alright," Evie adds. "But the last part is difficult for Fa'aun lips."

That's true. They do have a "V" sound, but it's not quite the same.

"Talla," I call, getting her attention again before switching to Fa'aun. "What do you think of the name 'Maev'?"

She looks up and cocks her head. "Maev...Ma'evi'i? That's an interesting one. Pretty, if a bit weird."

It sounds more like "Maivie" the way she says it, but close enough. I wonder if I should have told them to call Violet "Vee" instead if that's easier to pronounce.

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"I like it," Talla decides. "Is that what we should call you from now on?"

"I guess?"

I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Now that I'm facing the prospect of people using the name to refer to me directly, I'm a bit lukewarm on it.

"Only if you don't know," I hedge. "Or if it's all of us."

Bleh, I still don't like how simple I sound in Fa'aun, but I'm slowly getting better. Talla doesn't judge, nodding slowly as she chews on the name a bit more.

"Maev. Alright, I'll remember that. Anything else, Allie?"

I feel a lot better knowing that she'll still use my own name most of the time.

"Nope, you can go back to your book now," I tell her. "Thanks for helping us figure it out."

"Of course," she replies with a polite duck, before returning to her reading.

With that settled, I'm about to try getting some sleep again, but curiosity gets the better of me.

"What are you reading, anyway?" I ask. "I thought you could instantly read books with your skill."

"I can," she says, twisting the book to present the cover to me. "But it's easier to internalize things if I read normally. More fun, too."

"I can't read that," I remind Talla, blinking at the incomprehensible script.

"It's called 'Division of the World: The Creation of Sagaa,'" she supplies helpfully.

"So it's a book of history?" I ask. "Or I guess mythology."

"Neither," Talla answers. "It's fiction. It tells the story of a girl who journeys across the desert to beg the Goddess to supply her people with water. The river Sagaa doesn't exist yet, so she has to survive on wells and the hospitality of tribespeople."

Huh. "Then what?"

She smiles and turns the book over to show me that she's only about a third of the way through.

"I don't know yet. I'm guessing that either the Goddess will grant her request, or she'll level up enough on her journey to create the river herself—which is essentially the same thing. That's how these apocryphal tales tend to go."

"It sounds like the sort of thing that some people would claim is entirely true."

"Not any active sects," she says with a shrug. "Most people accept that stories like this are just stories. Both imperial records and the oral tradition of the tribes agree that Sagaa has been here as long as Fa'aun have, and the level one would need to create an entire continent-spanning river is higher than anyone who's ever lived."

"Why bother reading such worthless lies?" Evelyn asks.

"It's just a story, Evie," I say. "It's fun—and sometimes educational."

"Educational?" she gasps. "You can't learn from fiction!"

Oh boy. I guess I'll add literary analysis to the curriculum...eventually. We've got a long way to go before we get there.

"Sometimes there are moral lessons or different perspectives to learn," I explain for now. "But mostly, it's just fun. Stories can be exciting."

"Not this one," Talla drawls. "Maari said it was her favorite when I borrowed it, but the girl—who doesn't even have a name—never struggles at all. There's always a convenient tribe to save her, or a random relic that shows her the way. Everybody she meets drops everything to help her on her quest."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Evelyn mutters. "I only wish my own mission was as clear and easy to follow."

"Meh," Maggie interjects dismissively. "Suffering builds character. The more suffering, the better the character."

"Everyone has their own preferences," I say before another stupid argument can start. "Can I borrow that book later, Talla? Once I learn how to read."

"Sure," she agrees readily. "I'll let you know if it gets better later on."

With our new name settled and my curiosity sated, I finally give sleep another try. It's not easy with the sound of stomping footsteps and shouting overhead, or the slightly queasy feeling in my stomach—probably from the boat rocking—but eventually, I manage to drift off with Nipper curled at my feet.

* * *

I have decided that I hate boats. We're not even on the ocean, but the constant rocking and bobbing makes me feel sick. It's noisy—once we set sail it's a neverending storm of activity above deck. We're always moving, so there's always crew stomping around up there shouting orders. And guess what? Hooves are fricking loud!

What little sleep I can get is fitful and restless, and while I'm awake there's not much to do. There's a total lack of privacy and Fa'aun have extremely different standards for modesty. I won't sugarcoat it—I've seen more dongs in the last twenty four hours than I would expect to see in a year. Most of the crew are men, with the exception of Jira herself, her second-in-command, and Talla.

And yes, we are in fact part of the crew.

"If you're on my ship, you're on my crew," Jira insists. "No idle hands!"

Not that we know the first thing about crewing a ship, but Jira finds things to foist on us. Usually tedious tasks like mending or washing. I suppose it beats staring out at the river, but handling a bunch of sailors' dirty underwear isn't exactly my idea of fun.

All of this, combined with my steadily worsening stomach ache, is putting me in a seriously crabby mood.

"Blood and fricking acid, what the heck did I eat?" I groan, clutching at my stomach and sweating as I desperately try to keep down a lunch of crackers and—of course—more lizard jerky. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You don't have any parasites or diseases," Talla sighs, checking me with magic yet again. "And you haven't been injured either. Are you sure it's not just seasickness?"

That's exactly what I thought it was at first, but it just keeps getting worse.

"There's no way," I say, shaking my head. "I don't just feel sick—it hurts! I haven't had stomach pain like this since the first time I got my—"

I freeze, the words dying in my throat as realization strikes. Oh no. Oh no! Now?! Here?! I mean, I guess I've been in this world for around a month now, but I just hadn't been thinking about it.

"T-Talla..." I groan through clenched teeth. "I'm going to need some spare cloth. Like...I don't know—rags or something. I'd rather they not be too dirty, but it should be something that nobody is going to miss."

She furrows her brow. "What? Why?"

I meet her eyes with a desperate gaze, searching for a sign of understanding that can only come from someone who's experienced the same thing.

"I only have one set of underwear," I mutter, blushing furiously.

Her eyes widen as comprehension dawns. "Oh! Of course. I'll go talk to the captain."

"No!" I gasp, but Talla is already running off to find Jira. "Not her..."

There's nothing to do but lie in bed feeling miserable for the next few minutes. My headmates are conspicuously absent—leaving me to suffer in solitude. Or at least as much solitude as one can get when surrounded by snickering sailors—the ones that overheard my conversation with Talla.

It's about to get a whole lot worse.

The tell-tale clomping sound of Jira's heavy hoofsteps heralds the captain's arrival and draws the attention of off-duty sailors.

"Clear out and make yourselves useful above deck, boys," she bellows. "Maev's on her period!"

I bury my face in my palms and groan. Just kill me already.