System Lost: My Own Best Friend

"Come on Nipper," I snap my fingers in front of the weird lamprey-worm that we've somehow adopted as a pet. He can't hear, but he can feel vibrations in the air if the sound is close or loud enough. "I could really use some string right now."

Despite Maggie's best efforts, we haven't exactly made much headway in training the little guy. She made big promises at the start, but I've yet to see those darn shoes materialize. I'd settle for socks, or even just some string at this point.

"I'm pretty sure he'll only spit thread if he feels threatened," Maggie sighs. "We did too good a job at making him comfortable around us. Try throwing him, that worked last time."

"Absolutely not!" I shout, drawing my hand away from Nipper protectively. "I still haven't forgiven you for that!"

The one time Maggie managed to get Nipper to produce thread, it was by hurling him across the room in frustration. He was okay afterwards, but Violet and I both agreed that repeating the "experiment" is forbidden. We may have to kill things to eat, but that's no excuse to be cruel—even to gross worm thingies.

Anyway, that means we do have a little bit of string that I managed to braid together from those threads after washing the sticky gunk off of them. But it's barely enough to tie the waterskin closed. I'm currently trying to pack as many candles as we can carry into the lizard skin, but getting the makeshift sack to stay closed is an exercise in frustration.

"You could always just bring fewer candles," Maggie suggests.

"We need as many as we can carry if they're going to be our only source of warmth," Violet says. "Even if we find a way out of here, we don't know what to expect on the surface."

"Yeah, yeah..."

I ignore their banter while I wrestle with the problem of packing our candles into what is essentially an awkwardly shaped sheet. In a moment of inspiration, I stack as many candles as I can parallel to each other and fold the hide around them like a giant burrito.

"Phew," I wipe the sweat from my brow and admire my handiwork. "Now I just need something to use as a pin to hold it closed."

Though really, that just puts me back at square one.

"What about our hair clips?" Violet suggests.

I cover them defensively with my hand. "I don't think they're strong enough—besides, how will I keep my hair out of my face?"

"Actually..." Vi hesitates, her voice the awkward tone one uses to tell someone a relative just died. "About that. I've been thinking..."

Oh no. I don't like where this is going one bit.

"Yes?" I hedge, willing to at least hear her out.

"Our hair is too long," she blurts out, trying to rip off the bandaid all at once. "It catches on our glasses, gets in the way in a fight, and almost got us killed once already. The hair clips aren't enough to keep it controlled and we don't have anything to tie it back with. I think we should cut it."

...

"But..." I cover my head helplessly with both hands now, lips quivering. "It's my—" I hesitate for a second, but I feel too strongly about this to waver. "It's my hair! I like my hair! It's not that bad, is it?"

"It's a liability," Violet insists quietly. "I know you've been trying to take care of it, but by now it's so tangled that we'd probably have to cut it anyway."

"Plus, we might be able to use it to make the twine you need," Maggie interjects helpfully. "Human hair is stronger than people think."

My eyes water and my voice quavers. I know I'm not going to win this, but I feel like I have to fight. "I don't want to cut it," I whine helplessly. "It's mine."

My words feel hollow, even to me. It's not about the hair, I know. It'll grow back. It's just that it feels like I'm losing a piece of myself. Something that I've been desperately trying to hold onto ever since I arrived in this horrible place. I don't have the words to describe what it is, but I know that won't grow back.

"I told you she'd never go for it," Maggie sighs.

I blink, and a hot tear rolls across my face, wasting precious water. When did that conversation happen?

"I know it must be difficult for you," Vi says softly, ignoring Maggie. "It's not easy for me either, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important."

I wipe my eyes and sniffle. A thousand responses go through my mind, but I hate all of them. I hate myself for being so selfish about something so trivial. Words fail as I try again and again to articulate myself in my head for what feels like minutes, but nothing comes. Violet waits patiently for me to get myself together, and with one last sniffle, I nod weakly.

"Okay," I mutter, my voice still nasally. "Just do it."

And then she's gone, retreating into some quiet corner of our mind where she won't have to experience what comes next. I sigh and pull my knife out of our belt.

"Well that went well," Maggie remarks sarcastically. "God, she's such a fucking baby."

"Don't be crass, Maggie," I scold her. "Allie has a stronger attachment to our body than we do."

"Meh," she scoffs. "I don't see what's so great about it. We should be taller, with scarlet hair instead of this lame ginger, and bigger boobs. Can't be a proper sexy witch without a huge pair of—"

"Maggie!"

"S-sorry..."

She actually sounds surprisingly contrite, for once. As much as she gets on my nerves, I can tell that she's as stressed as any of us. Her attitude is just her way of coping. I only wish she didn't do it at our expense.

I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my nerves—switching in the middle of an emotional episode like this always results in a bit of bleedthrough. As Maggie says, we may have separate minds, but we still all share the same brain chemistry.

When I'm ready, I remove our hair clips and inspect them for a moment. They're pink, with little green hearts on the end. A bit childish, but Allie's always liked to project a bit of girlish charm. She's right, though—the flimsy plastic and aluminum would never hold our pack shut.

I'm stalling.

The realization bothers me in a way that's hard to put my finger on. I asked for this. Practically demanded it. But if I'm being honest, I don't want to cut Allison's hair either. It's a weird contradiction. I want to have short hair. If I had to choose, it would have been my preference from the beginning. But I don't want to cut it. I want to let Allie have her last vestige of vanity.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

In a painful moment of clarity, I realize that it's one of the few things about herself that she feels good about. I look down at the knife in my hand—my knife. I didn't even realize I'd been calling it that. Giving it up would be like losing a piece of myself. Like asking Maggie to quit her pursuit of magic.

Allison has been so worried that she doesn't have a role here, and here we are, telling her in no uncertain terms that we don't need her vanity right now. That the things she cares about are not only unnecessary, but hindering us. And the worst part is that it's true. For now.

All I can do is resolve to make it up to her one day. We will get out of here. And when we do, Maggie and I will need her as much as she needs us now.

I set the hair clips and knife aside, then draw Allison's hair back as though I were tying it into a ponytail. Once gathered, I grip it firmly with one hand and retrieve my knife. Steeling myself one last time, I bring the knife up to her hair and slice it off in one smooth motion.

Or at least, that was the idea.

"Ow!" I wince as individual hairs get caught in the tiny nicks and chips in the dull blade.

I end up having to saw away at it painfully for a few seconds before the clump of hair finally comes away.

"They make that look a lot easier in movies," I grumble irritably.

"Dumbass," Maggie snorts.

I don't really have the heart to retort.

* * *

Short hair is going to take some getting used to. I keep trying to tuck it back behind our ears in vain, and while it isn't quite falling in front of my eyes, it's present in my peripheral vision in a way that I'm not accustomed to. Thankfully, the hair clips still help with that, and with less to hold in place, there should be far less risk of them coming undone at an inopportune moment.

Meanwhile, taking Maggie's suggestion, I twist the cuttings together into a few strands of rough cord. It takes a few attempts, quite a lot of effort, and the results are badly frayed even before using them for anything, but it's enough to at least tie the pack Allison made closed, once I poke a couple of holes in the skin to thread the twine through.

With that, we've got almost everything we need. I fasten our waterskin to our belt with some leftover scraps, heft the pack up onto my shoulder, and prepare to make our last detour before we leave.

"Don't forget Nipper," Maggie reminds me before I can set off towards the Dark Corridor.

I frown down at the little worm, then begrudgingly kneel down to pick it up by the sweet spots Maggie found.

"I hope you know I'm dropping it at the first sign of trouble," I sigh.

"Sure, sure," she responds, her tone unreadable. "You don't need to carry him like that. He won't bite us anymore."

"Forgive me for not sharing your confidence," I deadpan.

All that's left now is to refill our waterskin as much as possible. Even following the same general direction as the stream, I have no idea when or if we'll find another cavern that connects to it. It's risky, and we're going to need to ration carefully, but it was always going to be risky and it's better to leave now rather than wait until we're already nearly starved.

"Let me know if you sense anything unusual, okay?" I tell Maggie. "And I mean, anything."

"I will. You can get off my ass about it."

Good enough. The walk to the stream is uneventful as always, except that now I'm the one feeling like we're being watched. That's probably just regular paranoia, though, and Maggie doesn't say anything. I fill the waterskin with as much as it will hold, and drink my fill before resecuring it to our belt and setting off towards the tunnel where we first met Maggie.

Once more, it's a long and quiet walk, but I reach the ledge without issue, then frown pensively up at it.

"So how are you planning to get all this shit up there?" Maggie asks.

Honestly, I hadn't thought of it. Although I managed to scale the cliff a second time without incident, the first attempt was traumatic enough that I try to spend as little time thinking about this place as I can get away with.

I set down Nipper and remove the cloak, then heft the pack experimentally, swinging it up towards the ledge without actually letting go, just to get a feel for it.

"I don't think I can toss this up that high," I admit, awkwardly.

"If only we had [Thrower]," Maggie says with a chuckle.

I spend a few minutes awkwardly trying to shove the pack up over the lip of the ledge, nearly dropping it twice and cursing my short stature before setting it back down and crossing my arms.

"Hm."

Once again, the fact that none of us have classes that improve Power is a hindrance.

[Violet: Tier 1 Human]

[Class Slot 1: Tier 1 [Unified Wanderers]** - Level 7/10

[Class Slot 2: Tier 0 [Defender]* - Level 6/10

[Attributes]

Power: 2

Resilience: 32

Awareness: 2

Ego: 26

Will: 2

[Skills]

Locus of Thought

The Beaten Path (Foraging)

Retaliation

I'd lose a lot of progress if I switched now, and while Allison has fewer levels to lose, we literally bled for those, and she's sacrificed enough today. That just leaves Maggie, but...

"I've got an idea," she says, interrupting my thoughts. "Leave the pack here and get us up that ledge, and I'll take care of the rest."

"I don't suppose you're going to just tell me what you plan to do?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Where's the fun in that?" she cackles. "You're just going to have to trust me."

I sigh helplessly. "Fine, but I'm leaving Nipper here too," I warn her. "If you don't come back for the pack, you're leaving him behind too."

"No faith!" she complains. "I wasn't planning on it."

I'll believe that when I see it.

I look up the ledge and take a moment to steel myself. Just don't think about face-planting into the rocks again. Ugh, why did I do that?

After failing miserably to clear my mind, I take a running start and spring off the wall, barely reaching the ledge and scrambling my way up in a very undignified manner. I'm just glad that my higher resilience helps shrug off the uncomfortable feeling of rocks jabbing and scraping me all over the place as I struggle to lift myself up over the lip.

"Alright," I pant, catching my breath. "Everything we have except my knife is down there. Please don't make me regret this."

"Oh just get on with it, you drama queen!"

I close my eyes and try to relax. It's not easy. I feel so tense I might snap at any second. None of this is going the way I hoped it would, and I still don't know what's been stalking us. Hunting us. I'm not even certain there is anything, or if I'm just being needlessly paranoid. While it doesn't help me relax, I focus on that unease, the frustration I feel at our lack of progress, the guilt I feel about making Allison let us cut her hair.

I don't want to do this.

I sit upright and crack my neck, then lean over the edge of the cliff to wave at Nipper.

"Stay right there sweetie, I'll be right back!"

Let's see. It's a pretty long walk down the tunnel before the Gecko Lair, and I'm really gonna have egg on my face if I come back to find all our stuff missing. Ugh, it's really not my style, but I guess I'd better hurry this one up. Good thing most of our Resilience comes from the shared class, but I bet I'm gonna need all eleven points of Will for this.

"Alright, brace yourselves in there," I say to myselves, dropping into a runner's crouch. "This'll just take a sec."

"Your form is awful," Violet responds.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, fuck you too, Vi."

With that, I take off down the tunnel at a dead sprint. Even I'm surprised by how long I'm able to maintain it, even if I'm not that fast and Violet keeps shit-talking my form. What must be an entire minute or two of full-on sprinting later and I arrive at my destination, doubled over with my hands on my knees, panting for breath, dripping with sweat, and with a serious stitch in my side.

"M-made it!" I wheeze between breaths.

"I don't get it," Violet mutters. "This is just the place where you ran into the worm eggs before."

"Exactly!" I confirm, gesturing vaguely at the mess of cobwebs all over the place. "We left it in a real state, didn't we? Don't you think someone ought to tidy up?"

[Class Slot 2: Tier 0 [Organizer]* - Level 9/10

Just one level to go, right? Shouldn't take long at all.