The Non-Human Society

Lomi's stomach gurgled and her face contorted into an annoyed expression as she turned to look at me.

“It'll be ready soon,” I said to her.

She sighed but nodded. She sat closer to the table, and turned a little to stare at the nearby counter. Where the lone young girl was working.

The girl was most undoubtedly the daughter of the family who owned this small tavern. I could hear her parents, and what were most likely siblings, in the back working. Preparing not just our lunch, but the large dinner that would soon be demanded by the townsfolk once the sun started to set.

“Smells good,” Lomi mumbled, as if angry about it.

“That's a good thing isn't it?” I asked her, amused by her upset expression.

“I... I suppose,” she admitted, and realized she herself wasn't sure why it made her angry.

It wasn't like we've been waiting too long. We spent more time picking a table than anything else. Lomi had sat in one, hadn't liked it, and moved to another. Three times, before we ended up here.

She had complained that the seats weren't right. Yet to me they all felt lopsided and worn down. If anything this table felt worse for wear than the last two had.

Running my hand along the table's edge, I felt the smoothness not from just a sanding but time. Wear.

These tables were older than Lomi.

“How old do you think she is?” Lomi then asked.

Glancing at the girl at the counter, trying to clean a smudge off a large copper platter, I wondered if she was asking as to compare herself or just out of curiosity.

She looked like a young girl. In my eyes she was no older than Lomi. But she was taller. Nearly a foot or more in height, even including Lomi's ears.

“Probably not much older than you,” I said.

“Hm...” Lomi studied the girl as she hummed.

“We age a little slower. You know that,” I said to her.

“Yes, but... She's twice my height,” she whispered.

“And some folks are just taller than others. Crane was taller than me, remember?” I reminded her.

“Ah true,” she nodded.

The girl finally cleaned the platter well enough for her standards, and with a brisk jog she ran around the counter and up to us.

“What kind of drinks would you like?” she asked happily.

“Milk for her. Anything cold for me,” I said.

“Two milks!” Lomi said quickly, showing both her outstretched hands as if she was going to order far more than two.

“That's six,” I said as I counted her fingers.

Lomi smirked but didn't correct herself, as I nodded to the girl. “Couple milks,” I said.

“And for yourself, ale or...?” the girl paused, as if unsure why she was hesitating in asking me such a thing.

“Whatever's the coldest,” I said.

She nodded quickly and hurried away, back past the counter and through an open door to the back of the tavern.

“She probably thinks you're a drunk,” Lomi said.

“Maybe. But they wouldn't understand if I told them the truth,” I said.

“The truth?”

“That I can't get drunk,” I said plainly.

Lomi nodded, as if finding what I said perfectly reasonable. I knew that was simply because of her age.

Anyone else would have found my comment odd.

“Why cold?” she asked.

“When it's cold outside? Why not? I'm already cold so why change it?” I asked her back.

She sighed and shook her head, finding that comment odder than the last.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“About a week. But we'll spend a day here I think,” I said.

“Huh? Why?”

I gesture to the nearby window. Outside, even though it was the middle of the day, was dark. Very dark. Foreboding.

The humans wouldn't, couldn't hear it yet, but I could. The roar of the storm was distant, but approaching quickly.

“That storm. We can traverse it, but the roads from here on out are very busy. Too busy. If anyone sees us traveling while it's so stormy; we'll be questioned,” I said.

“Oh... Are we going to stay here?” she asked.

“No there's an inn next door. After we eat we'll go get a room,” I said.

“Hm.”

The young tavern girl returned, carrying a small half-box full of cups and a pitcher.

Putting the box on the table, Lomi and I watched as she quickly dispersed the drinks. Two large cups of milk for the fox, and a large wooden cup of dark brown liquid for me.

There was also a pitcher of milk. Telling me she had believed Lomi in her ordering of multiple cups.

The wooden cup had frost all over it, telling me that they had stored it in their ice room.

Instead of storing the liquid, they stored the cups. It worked. Sometimes.

“Thanks,” Lomi happily thanked her as the girl smiled and hurried off, back to behind the counter.

Before I could reach out and take a drink, or rather find out what kind of nasty brew they had given me, Lomi had reached out to touch the cup.

“It's cold!” she sounded happy over it.

“To chill its contents. No you can't try it,” I said, although I let her touch the cup for a moment.

“Hm... Can I get one of those cups too?”

“Go ask,” I said.

I had expected her not to, being the shy girl she was, but she quickly hopped off her seat and ran to the counter.

Watching her greet the girl, who gave her a huge smile on her approach, I gave a small nod in confirmation when the tavern girl glanced at me.

After a moment she hurried to the back, disappearing again. Lomi stood at the counter happily, waiting for her cup.

Although a part of me hoped Lomi had simply become less skittish, I knew the truth. She simply saw another child. A friend. Someone she didn't need to fear.

If it had been an old man, or even a woman, Lomi wouldn't have done such a thing.

Not as happily, at least.

The tavern girl returned promptly with a cup similar to mine. It had more metal on it than mine did, but was empty.

Lomi happily thanked her than ran off, hurrying back to the table.

“Happy?” I asked as she returned to her seat.

“Very!” Lomi quickly went to pouring the contents of one of her cups into the chilled one.

She spilled some of it, but I didn't chastise her or clean it up. She'd probably make a mess later anyway once the food came out.

A few extra coins would be more than enough to purchase forgiveness.

Lomi took a drink from her new cup, and I noticed the way her eyes twitched and her hat moved. Her ears had twitched even harder.

“Well?” I asked her.

“It's... chill to the lips, but the milk doesn't seem that much colder,” she said while touching her lips.

“Let it sit for a moment, like I am,” I said, gesturing to my cup.

“Ah...” she realized her mistake and nodded.

Lomi studied her cup, and its contents, as she went to patiently waiting.

“Is it hard? To run a restaurant like this?” Lomi then asked.

“Sometimes. Just need enough people, and of course a good source of food. Travelers will forgive bad food, but the locals won't,” I said.

“Travelers? We would? Why? I want good food,” she said sternly.

“Because we're strangers. Most wouldn't dare complain about the quality of food when they're alone in a whole village. Think about your village, what would all of you have thought if some random guy showed up and started berating and insulting your food, houses and home?” I asked.

“We'd... we'd be upset,” she said, barely taking a moment to consider it. “But!” She spoke up before I could, and nodded. “We'd not hurt anyone for that though. Maybe kick them out, but...”

“Exactly. And being kicked out from a village, or banned, is life and death for most travelers. So they'll just keep their mouths shut and eat and drink. With a smile,” I said, hefting my own cup to do just that.

Lomi sighed, but seemed to understand.

“For most humans traveling is terrifyingly dangerous. Most never leave their homes, or only travel to one or two villages away. It's like another world to them,” I said.

“This is another world...” she mumbled, and went to drinking her milk.

It must have gotten colder, for she paused momentarily to enjoy it. She seemed happy that it was cold now.

Another world...

It felt like it sometimes.

“Almost done with your food!” the young girl shouted from behind the counter.

Lomi startled at her shout, but the girl didn't notice. She hurried into the back after letting us know.

“Will it get loud here like the last time?” Lomi asked, worried.

“Probably.”

Lomi groaned.

Sitting back, I heard the whistle of the wind as it grew stronger. The storm was here.

Which meant so would we be, until it passed or at least softened enough for our trek not to be seen as strange.

Hopefully it didn't take too long.