“Your fur is growing back in,” Priestess remarks to Vortex. Looking down at her own body, the werewolf sees all of the patches of fur not covered by the teal are being restored. The elk lady is patching Vortex up after she was picked up from Gungle’s landing. The fighter winces at the various herbs and ointments applied to her wounds, staying as still as she can. “Yeah,” she responds. “My body conditioner tends to do that.”
“Don’t talk back to me like that,” Priestess tells her, tightening the wrap around Vortex’s bicep. “I was giving you a compliment.” Vortex rolls her dark brown eyes, taking extra care for Priestess not to see her doing so. “What was that magic you used back at the cave?”
“Gravity manipulation,” she simply says, tightening the wraps to a snug fit on the werewolf’s torso. “I learned a thing or two in my time back in the day. Used to only know sheer ice.”
“How did you jump from ice magic to gravity manipulation?” Vortex asks. “It was one in the same. I worked as a doctor for the space station before I became an elk lady.”
“You know how to manipulate gravity at your own will, and haven’t thought to bring that up to maybe try sending Nebula back without the stones?” the werewolf deadpans. “In a concentrated area. If I could send people to space with my magic alone, you think I’d be here of all places?”
“Some help you are,” she grumbles underneath her breath.
“Eske’m samble zanmi’w (do I look like your friend)?” she reprimands, paying no mind to her yelp of surprise.
“I don’t have friends-” the werewolf says, “-just acquaintances.”
The two fall silent afterwards. Priestess knows how difficult all of this is for Vortex. But she knows that the young monster is trying her best. Making friends at her age is crucial; the little one insists on staying isolated. It’s not healthy for any social creature, much less one that needs socialization like a wolf does. There isn’t much someone like Priestess can do to help with this situation.
Or maybe there is.
“Is Nebula one of those acquaintances?”
“Huh?” Vortex says. “Oh, Nebula. I… I guess?” the werewolf answers, shrugging with her hands semi-curled. “We’re kind of. Hmn. It’s more of a- a classmate thing? Sort of like a school project where we don’t know each other well but have to finish before the deadline.” Priestess makes note of this. She carefully considers her next words here. Vortex doesn’t consider classmates as friends- rather, this specific situation of friends. The only way to make someone go from an acquaintance to a friend is to… well. Talk to them. Get to know each other. Open your heart a little bit. Priestess finishes wrapping Vortex up in gauze, placing down the last of the medical tape on the cloth.
“Could you do me a favor, Vortex?” Priestess asks, placing her medical instruments and materials back into her first aid kit. Vortex scratches at her chin’s underside with her dull fingertips when she accepts. “I have some extra money from selling my potions and medicine in the city. Go get me something from the Shrubstack stall. I like anything with berries in it,” the elk lady requests, passing Vortex a handful of big bills. “Sure. This seems like a lot of money for a salad bowl though,” she points out, counting the cash in her palms. “Yes. I want you to go get something for yourself too. You did a good job coming back with the second moonstone. You earned a big meal.” Vortex’s tail comes alive on its own, wagging side to side with reckless abandon. The werewolf realizes what’s going on behind her and grabs the base of it with her free hand to stop it. Priestess merely laughs amusedly at the scene. “Someone’s excited.”
Vortex packs up her satchel with the money, some small honeydew melons, and a few packets of moist towelettes (Priestess insisted she take them). She says goodbye to Junebug the tortoiseshell with a gentle two-finger pat to her head, and is almost out the door when she hears Priestess say “and take Nebula with you!”
That makes the werewolf screech to a halt, turning her head so swiftly to gawk back at the elk doctor. “Nebula?” Vortex says, dumbfounded at the suggestion. “Too bizarre to invite the little miss mermaid along with you?” Priestess says, cocking a brow up. “No no, it’s just that- she doesn’t do too great with people.” She is telling the truth; so far, Nebula has been incredibly stiff and to herself when it comes to meeting anyone they cross paths with. Vortex tries her best to accommodate her shyness, but it can only take the two so far. Not to mention that the food area can get so damn busy. The last thing Nebula (and Vortex) need is to get separated because of the bustling nature of it.
“Ou prol alo (you'll be okay)”, Priestess waves her hand off at. “It’ll be good for both of you. Now, fè vit,” the wapiti lady demands, gesturing to Vortex to get out.
“Dame un momento (give me a moment),” Vortex says, yanking a few items off of the coat hanger positioned beside the door.
She swiftly grabs onto her illusion cloak, ensuring she also had one of Priestess’s enchanted hoods that would hide her face. Additionally, she grabs a cloth mask with printed text reading “WOLFIE”. The things this woman does with a fabric printer amazes the young monster. “How do I look?” she asks the Priestess. “Ridiculous. Now shoo!” Vortex ducks her head underneath the doorframe to exit the hut, observing her surroundings to make sure which way she needs to go. She jogs off to Garriz’s cottage with a skip in her step.
Vortex makes it to the cottage but stays behind in the trees. There’s gotta be a way to grab Nebula along without alerting Garriz that she’s here. She was able to narrowly avoid the chewing out by skittering off to Priestess. Vortex sees that Garriz is outside at his forge, buffing Axle’s metal to a shinier finish. Great. He’s about to be done with repairs. She looks around more before finding Nebula at the training dummies. It appears she’s… staring at them. They are rather silly; a sandbag core with hay wrapped around it, donning a canvas bag filled with more sand as a head on a wooden pike. There’s a crude pair of eyes and a smile etched on its features, no doubt finger painted with soot from the forge. The top of the head is dressed with a silver pot that has a copper base. She watches Nebula stare at the dummy. The siren puts her hand out to its chest, flattening her palm on it. She gives it a push and watches the coil beneath it wiggle back and forth. She gives her second go more oomph, watching it wobble, giggling to herself. Vortex tries calling out to her with a whisper.
“Psst. Hey. Psst!! Nebula!” She whisper-shouts while cupping the front of her snout with her gigantic hands. Since she’s not wielding Axle at the moment, her fur has reverted to its original state, blending in further into the woods. She’s completely camouflaged. Nebula does not notice Vortex’s calls, experimenting with a fin smack to the dummy’s chest. It wobbles back and forth from the hit. Nebula backs up to look at the training dummy, eyes never breaking away from it. She backs up further and gets a head start into rushing at it. With the built up momentum, Nebula jumps up in the air and comes down to smack the dummy’s head with her tail. It bends back so far, almost parallel with the ground, before coming back up, unaffected by the intensity.
“These things are so sturdy! How did you do it?” Nebula shouts at Garriz. He stops buffing Axle on the grinder, placing them on the prep table. “Just a bit of good ol’ springs, sandbags, and a lot of determination. These things can take whole fireballs and not burn up!” Garriz wipes the sweat off of his brow as he approaches Nebula, listening for her further attacks. “My niece likes to bring her kid to practice at this range sometimes. Maybe you’ll get to meet her one of these days. I gotta give them a call to visit,” he says.
‘Good to see you’re here,’ she hears a voice rattle in her head. Right, Axle still has a mind link with her. ‘Garriz is not finished with me. Said something about upgrading my handle,’ they inform Vortex. ‘Lucky for you that I came only for Nebula then,’ Vortex responds internally.
‘Oh. Okay,’ Axle says. It takes a moment for Vortex to realize that it sounded bad and begins to clarify, ‘oh no no no! I want to pick you up first, honestly, but the Priestess is making me take Nebby out to the night market. They have a no weapons policy over there, so…’
‘I understand. We all need our alone time. This repair and revitalization session with Garriz has me feeling the best I have in the 243 years I have been around.’ Vortex is taken aback at that age. ‘243? I thought you said you could only recall over 200’ she questions. “A good way I remember is witnessing the Tea Party Riot. Headless was gearing up to pillage the ships but had to retreat when the colonists threatened to pour tea down his hole.’
‘... huh. Alright then,’ Vortex accepts, clearly confused. ‘There were minotaurs over here in the states?’ she asks, hearing a hum come out of them. ‘Immigration tends to bring all walks of life around the world. It would be insensitive of me to ask why you are a werewolf if you yourself are not European.’ That analogy doesn’t sit well with her. ‘A curse does not care for geography, Axle. Anyone can become a werewolf,’ Vortex says in her head.
‘Enough with the pedantics,’ she continues, ‘I need to pick Nebula up but I do not want Garriz to see me.’ Axle “hmmn”s at her request. ‘The way I see it, Garriz would see you regardless. He used me as an echolocator earlier to scope out where Nebula was at all times.’ Vortex smacks her teeth and sucks a breath in. Right. With how often he works at his forge, of course Garriz would learn how to use the vibrations emanated from his projects to “see” his surroundings. There is no way of winning this or luring Nebula away. Not to mention that, without Axle, she can’t wear her armor. Vortex has noticed that the siren has a tendency to block out her vision in favor of anything right in front of her.
She has no other choice but to brave the bull.
Vortex comes up from her crouch and stretches out, walking towards the three. Garriz is the first to feel her presence, and turns his head towards her direction. “Well well, if it isn’t the dog of the hour,” he says. “Care to explain why Axle was in such rough shape?” Straight to the point. Yikes. Vortex straightens her chest out and lets a steady breath out. “Axle protected me from some extremely sharp rock webs.”
“Rock webs?”
“The moonstone leads us to this cave full of crystals,” Nebula starts explaining, gesturing the sizes of the gems she saw without breaking her attention from the dummy. “And the ones protecting it were these big spider monsters that had…, what do you call the shape down here? I say tz’ath,” the siren says, tracing the shape in the air with her fingers. Vortex thinks about the shape in her head. “I don’t know the name of it, but it’s like the ones you see on rings. The ones that strut out,” the werewolf elaborates for the minotaur. He takes a moment to think, then snaps his fingers together. “A round cut?” “Sure?” Vortex says, unsure and shrugs her shoulders with her claws jutting outwards. “I don’t know, I was too busy trying to survive.” She realizes that Nebula is still too distracted with the practice dummy. “The twins landed a really powerful rock acid to try to crush or corrode us alive,” she continues, “and Axle took most of the hit.”
“Well,” Garriz starts, putting his burly, callused right hand into a fist to cover his lips. “Tough call. I’ll… give you that,” he says. “Still. You need to take better care of them. Axle is not just an extension of you- they’re your partner. Treat them like a damn equal.”
Vortex meekly nods, trying her best to not make the situation worse for herself. “Yes, sir,” she says. “But I came here to take Nebula to the night market. Priestess wanted me to introduce her to our Earth food.”
“Hmn,” the minotaur acknowledges. “Not a bad idea. She has been doing okay eating scrambled eggs and leafy greens. She should see what else she can eat.” He turns to face Nebula and passes her a pouch from his pockets. “Here’s some meal money for you. Don’t spend it all in one place, okay?” Vortex’s eye twitches slightly. He’s guessing she’s broke (which… fair, she supposes). Nebula takes the pouch, nodding her thanks to him. “Get back here soon. I’m almost done with the repairs.”
With that, the two set off to the path in the crowded forest. Vortex pulls on ahead, knowing the area better than the siren. Nebula swims behind her, uncertain of how to fill in the silence. It’s unnerving. Every twitch or crack the densely packed forest makes causes her to jump or flinch. The pitter patter of the werewolf’s feet making contact with the ground comforts her.
“So… where is this night market?” Nebula asks.
“It’s further into the sanctuary,” Vortex explains. “We’ll see a few houses first, then a plaza. There will be a lot of people over there, so brace yourself for that. They’ll most likely look at us a lot.” Nebula curls her face in distress. Being the center of attention at any given point by more than two people makes her nervous. “We’ll have to take a right in the plaza and head towards the farmer’s market. Next to it will be where we need to go.”
True to her word, the thickness of the trees begin to slow to show family homes. Most of them are small, with a few medium-sized two-story homes sprinkled here and there. The path remains mostly dirt. Hidden amongst the bushes and trunks are small families playing with their children outside. Nebula spots a harpy hatchling learning from their mother how to fly, fluttering their baby feathers to give it all they’ve got. She giggles at the sight. It’s sweet. Reminds her of when her family tried to teach her how to take her first swim strokes.
“Look mommy, a princess!!” one of the other kids shouts, pointing their index finger at Nebula. She freezes, unsure of what to do- only able to look away timidly. “Sweetheart, it’s not nice to point. Sorry about that, miss princess!,” the mother apologizes. Nebby waves with an awkward smile in acknowledgment. “Keep moving. We’ve still got a way to go until the market.” Vortex picks up the pace, beginning to speed walk through the neighborhood. Some other families that are out on their porches or patios wave to the two- others exchange whispers. Ones that Nebula can’t help but assume are about her.
As if Vortex read her mind, she interrupts those doubts with, “they’re talking about me. Calling me suspicious and dangerous looking. Like they’ve never seen a werewolf before.” This part of the neighborhood always made the werewolf anxious. Anyone could easily say she was out to try and hurt their kids simply for passing by and she’d have no way to defend herself. The hoodie and cape does her no favors in reducing suspicion. “We’re three blocks away. See that clearing off in the distance?” She points to the path with her whole hand. “That’s where we need to go. Come on.” She starts jogging to their destination, which forces Nebula to pick up the pace. She really needs Vortex to understand that a single step translates to three to five swim strokes for her.
“We’re here,” Vortex says, revealing the clearing. As far as the two are able to see, the city is bustling with all sorts of mythical folk. Fairies, vampires, harpies- many otherworldly beings only spoken in human folklore. Save for a few exceptions, this barrier extends out miles upon miles, securing the dome in the dangerous mist. Vortex huffs her displeasure at the swirling dark purple mist she spots in the distance.
“Stay close,” she commands Nebula. “There’s a lot of people here, including shady ones. They’ll try to rope you into anything they possibly can.” Nebula gulps, nodding firmly at the werewolf’s warning. She swims beside Vortex, catching the attention of many passersby. Her sensitive webbed sea-bunny-like ears pick up the whispers, but can barely make out what most of them are saying. Is this the area where everyone speaks a different language too? How is she going to know if they’re talking about her? In her panic, she leans on Vortex’s arm, wrapping her arms around the werewolf’s cloth-covered one. Vortex merely glances down and sighs, picking up the pace so Nebula doesn’t freak out any further. Seeing a mermaid swim on land is rather strange- weirder that she’s doing it while floating off of the air.
The two make it to the plaza, finding the more open space a slight respite from the crowd. Nebula is noticeably more damp, her mucusy hands moistening the armor. Vortex squints her eyes at it, the edges of her lips curling downwards. Thank goodness that didn’t touch her fur.
“Do you need a moment?” Vortex asks Nebula. She’s breathing semi-heavily, trying to keep her anxiety under control. How are there so many people at once over there? It’s deep into the night! Is it more busy during the day time? She could never imagine running errands for Garriz if they’re going to be this crowded.
“I’m- I’m okay,” she tries to assure the gigantic she-wolf. “Let’s keep going,” she says, pulling her forward with a steady larret. Vortex easily keeps up with Nebula, guiding her to the right and reading the street signs above them to find the market. She sees the telltale sign of lychees for sale and knows to keep walking two more blocks. Nebula stares at the lychees as they pass by.
“... if we have time, we’ll get some,” Vortex says. Nebula perks up at that. “They’re so weird looking! You can eat those?”
“Not whole,” Vortex says, weaving through the narrow alleyways. “You’ll have to peel the shell first before eating them. Some of them have large seeds, so you’d have to be careful not to bite down hard.”
“Are they good?” Nebula prods further.
“They’re delicious,” the werewolf confirms. “If I got a bag every time I passed by the stand, my body would be about twenty percent lychee.”
“Is that how you pronounce it? I thought it was ‘lui-schee’.”
“... I say ‘lie-chi’, but some say it as ‘lee-chee’.”
“Terrania is so interesting,” Nebby offhandedly says, aweing at the fruit. They continue onwards, noticing the crowd beginning to disperse into fewer clusters. She sees the bridge banners flying off in their faded red and white text. “Here it is,” the werewolf says, pointing with her clawed fingertip to the sign:
“WELCOME TO THE BUBBLING POT”.
True to its name, the shape of the market resembles a cauldron with stray vendors rising up from the dense circle of operations. As far as the eye can see, everyone is bargaining, haggling, and advertising their goods for a sale. The cooked food section of the market is just a bit beyond the farmer’s market, which is located in the upper right corner. A wide river sits at the edge of the bustling street vendors, providing an air of calm with a generous amount of wooden park tables.
“Woah…” Nebula says, marveling at the whole scene. “I never knew there were so many monsters like you here!”
Vortex hides her grimace in the comfort of her hood. She decides to change the subject. “Let’s get a midnight dinner inside your… you.” Does Nebula have a stomach the same way Vortex does? Or is it some extraterrestrial digestive tract where she has a pouch organ to store food in for later? “Stay next to me. I don’t want you getting lost.”
The two push forward, weaving as best as they can between buyers large and small. Nebula accidentally bumps into someone’s manticore, causing her to freeze up when the flying lion growls at her for the transgression. Vortex growls back at the pet. It backs off, letting out a dissatisfied huff. They get back on track- now with Nebula more on guard. “Come on,” Vortex commands Nebula. “Okay, okay,” the siren says nervously, swishing through the air. Nebula observes more, noting the monsters she does recognize, like a harpy and a gnoll. These stands hold such diversity!
She’s hardly seen monsters like these in her Terrania history books! Nebula was too caught up in learning about the deities residing on the planet. But she does distinctly remember that Chelonia was circling to celebrate Luna’s day of formation. If she can get back home in time, she might be able to make it for the celebration party. She’ll be able to tell them all about the ones she saw firsthand.
“Almost there. Keep close,” Vortex says, taking a left turn. Nebula follows suit, yet briefly pauses to sniff the air. “What is that delicious smoke?” she asks the werewolf. “Food,” the fur giant responds. “People are outdoor cooking. You don’t have that up in Chelonia?”
“We do cook, but not a lot of it makes smoke. It has to be on a fire- then it’ll smoke a bit.” Vortex nods at that piece of information, but turns her head and cocks it. “Wait, it doesn’t smoke a lot on a fire?” Nebula ‘mhmn’s in affirmation. “Our planet is dense with water just like yours. But your atmosphere is different from ours. I think our fires don’t burn as hard as yours do. They stay trapped inside of the hulf- but you call it rings?” Nebula observes the grills up ahead, and notices the charcoal pieces blazing red. “Our wood definitely doesn’t look that color! Is that safe?” Vortex rubs the back of her neck with her hand, trying to formulate a reasonable answer. “Not to touch, no. You’re safe otherwise.” The siren lets out a relieved sigh.
“So…” Vortex starts. How does she talk to Nebula but maintain their distance? “What…do you like to eat, Nebula?”
“Well, on Chelonia, I'd eat sky kelp root, aged milkflower soup, and anything hearty and warm…but we'd never find anything like that here.” she explains, staring at the various food vendors now that they’re officially in the thick of it. “The only things I've had to eat so far are honeydew, herbs, salad and eggs. I'm not sure where to start...” Vortex’s hand moves from her neck to tuck underneath her chin, trying to figure out a good recommendation. “Well, you’re clearly an omnivore, so that’s a start. Would you want to go to one of the seafood stands and see if anything catches your eye?”
“Seafood? Does this world happen to have a fish called a snapper?”
“We have red snappers if that’s anything.”
“What are we standing around for? Let’s get going!” Nebula says, swimming ahead. “Ah- HEY!! Wait up! You don’t know where it is!” Vortex jogs after her, being mindful not to hit anyone with Axle on her back. The crowd thins out as they head further back into the Bubbling Pot area. They arrive at the designated seafood stalls with Vortex guiding Nebula down the options. “No way,” Nebula says, pointing at one of the signs, “there’s decaclaws on this planet too?!”
Vortex stares at what Nebula is pointing at- one of the benefits of being as tall as she is is that some vendors have their stalls a smidge shorter than hers. “Crab?”
“‘Crab’?” Nebula questions. “That's their name? My teachers told me your people call them decaclaw. Why in the world would you call them a crab?”
“I don’t know! I was told as a kid they’re called crabs and never questioned it. I don’t make the rules,” Vortex huffs.
“Can we get some? I hear they taste wonderful down here!” Nebula pleads, her starry pupils sparkling ten times harder. Vortex checks the price on the dish and wrinkles her snout. Thirty gold pieces for a plate of crab. Priestess gave her seventy to spend. “Maybe another time. We don’t have enough to afford it and get Priestess a meal too.”
“Aw…” Nebula says, her webbed ears flopping down. Her pout pulls at Vortex’s heartstrings. She looks like a kicked puppy.
“... I’ll see what I can do,” Vortex says. “But for now, I think we should stick to snapper or chicken. I know I’m craving a chicken hoagie.”
They do find a snapper platter for sale a few stalls over, Nebula drooling at the sight. handing it over to the siren wrapped up in a plastic bag. Vortex is about to make the turn to head for the poultry chefs until a heavenly aroma wafts in front of her helmet. She can’t help but take a deep breath of the scent, then sniffs it out. She closes her eyes and follows the smell, leading her to a tucked away stand with the juiciest steaks and meats to offer.
A tall tanned ogre with a bushy mustache mans the station, chopping away at the meat. Some sparks from the open flame pounce on his skin, but he pays no mind. His menu is displayed on the side of his stand- looks like he serves all sorts of regional dishes. The specialty order for this evening appears to be grilled steak gyros. Vortex feels her mouth salivate, overflowing into a drool. She shakes her head to get it together.
“You not want food?” The ogre asks the werewolf. She perks up, realizing she’s the only one standing in front of his stall. “No, no, I do,” Vortex responds.
“You look so skinny. Wolfie not getting the big meals?” he earnestly questions. If it came out of anyone else, she would think she was being patronized. But the pity in his eyes seems genuine.
“I try not to eat steak. It makes me look… crazy,” she says. The ogre man merely shakes his head, heartily laughing as if she told him a funny joke. “Wolfie needs meat!! Important nutrients for your heart and soul. You’re big big, so I give you two for one,” he offers, beginning to work on the order. “Oh no no no, that’s okay sir!” Vortex tries to kindly turn him down. “No no, I insist! I have kids of my own to feed- gotta grow big and strong.” As he shoos her rejection off with the side of his cutting knife, he turns around to look for pita flatbread suitable for the hungry wolf’s stomach.
“Isn’t eating cows not allowed for you?” Vortex tries to inquire as sensitive as possible, twitching her hand forward. The werewolf does not want to assume anything, but based on his menu items, he appears to largely focus on Middle Eastern and West Indian dishes.
“Ah ha! Giant-worthy pitas are still here.” The ogre turns around with a comically large stack of two pita breads and begins working his magic to fill it up with lettuce, diced tomatoes, and tzatziki sauce. Slicing and sliding the steak pieces over, he effortlessly layers them on top of the two gyros, garnishing with a generous amount of cilantro and olive oil. “Not worry, little wolfie. I knew that people are different from me and I need to accommodate accordingly.” He sprinkles the last bit of garnish on top of the meal.
“Two steak gyros for you! That’ll be twenty gold,” he says, letting Vortex find the appropriate amount from the pouch given to her as he wraps the meals in multiple aluminum sheets. “Are you sure?” she asks the chef. “ This seems like it’d be worth more than twenty!” He waves her off with a click of his mouth. “Ah, no worry about it! I can’t let a starving stray wolfie like you wander the streets with an empty stomach. All I ask is to enjoy yourself,” he says, collecting the gold and passing it off to Vortex. “Have a good night, big Wolfie. Come back anytime!”
“Wait! What’s your name?” Vortex shouts. He turns to look at her again to register what she inquired. “Oh! It’s Samir, but everyone call me Sam. What about you, big Wolfie?”
“I’m Vortex.”
“Ah, Vortex? You mind if I call you Wolfie?”
“...” under any other circumstances, Vortex would have banished such a childish, unoriginal nickname. But this ogre has shown her such generosity and kindness that she can’t help but feel as if she can accept it just this once. “That’s okay. Thank you for the lovely meals tonight, Samir. Buenas noches,” she kindly departs with, giving a slight bow of her head to show thanks. “And tisbah ala khair to you,” Samir reciprocates, getting right back to work. Vortex scampers away with her two meals, tail wagging a mile an hour.
“There you are!” she hears a voice call out to her. Confusedly, she turns her head left to right, trying to find the source. “Down here,” Nebula reminds her, causing the werewolf to do a small jolt when she recognizes who it is.
“Damn it- I got us separated, didn’t I?” Vortex realizes, sighing in frustration to her own carelessness. “Sorry, Nebula. I picked up the smell of something yummy and…” she trails off, then lightly bounces the gyros in her hands. “Yeah.”
Nebula stares at the covered food for a moment and her nose begins to wiggle around, sniffing out the gyros. “Those smell really good,” she comments. “So where do we go now?”
“Let’s go find a table to sit down at,” Vortex says, walking towards the river area to search for any open seats. The two go down the three step stairs to situate themselves at a potential table. She finds a free one hugging the cobblestone walls beside the staircase and sits down to settle in. Vortex crosses her long legs together on the wooden plank, settling into her criss cross position and placing her food down gingerly. Nebula follows suit, unpacking her snapper out of the plastic bag and sorting through the utensils. Her body still floats an inch or so off the ground while seated. Nebula grabs the plastic fork and knife while Vortex pulls back the aluminum foil down on the gyro. They lean down to start eating.
Except a soft squishy sound of sauce and meat slaps against Vortex’s mask. She completely forgot her face was covered. The werewolf freezes in place, flicking her eyes up to see if Nebula saw it.
She did. Nebula’s eyes are wide at the scene. The werewolf has a squeeze of tzatziki staining her mask to only read out “W E”. Her shoulders shrug up, and her face begins to puff. A snort escapes her lips, and soon, she cracks with cacophonous laughter echoing throughout the outdoor food court. Some people turn to see what the commotion was but most go back to their meals. Vortex is incredibly grateful that her face is covered, lest her furry face is revealed to resemble natural cherry wood rather than teak.
“You didn’t see that,” she mumbles, placing her food down on the table once again to undo her mask. Nebula is still cackling maniacally to herself, tears forming on the tips of her eyes. “I’m sorry- it just- hahAH-” the siren sputters out, trying her best to get it under control. “That was- WHOO- that was too funny. I needed that!” Vortex’s ears are furled downwards, pointing to the floor. “I’ll pretend I didn’t do that just now.” “I won’t,” Nebula cheekily says. Vortex merely squints at her from the enchanted cape, not having it in her to try and growl her displeasure. “Buen provecho,” she unevenly spits out, wishing that the ground would swallow her whole. She picks her gyro back up to take a frustrated bite. Just like that, her worries instantly melt away.
The marinated meat was mixed prior to cooking in a beautiful combination of yogurt, dill, more cilantro, minced garlic, red vinegar, and chopped onion. The open-flame charcoal grill from Samir’s stand adds a smoky essence to the charred yet tender steak. He didn’t ask her how far she wanted it cooked, yet the ogre chef nailed it with the phenomenal medium rare.
Whenever Vortex eats steak in her werewolf form, it has to be well done. Her previous encounters with innocent woodland creatures had her go wild-mode for raw meat. A precautionary measure. However, she can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. It’s savory, it’s coating her mouth with incredible savory, sweet, and a touch of sour melding together into a harmonious experience.
The vegetables are nothing to sneeze at either. They feel as if the cook had hand-picked them from his own garden. Fresh, juicy diced tomatoes and sliced cucumbers cut through the fattiness of the protein. Acidity is added with the generous helping of red onion slices adorning the pita. The tzatziki brings the whole meal together with a mild, yet much needed creaminess, coating the werewolf’s tongue with each chew she takes. How has she never seen this man’s stand before?! The smell struck through her senses faster than the majority of the market she’s been through in the past!
A guttural groan escapes Vortex’s lips, signaling out her delight at the meal. “This is unbelievable-” she says, chomping down another large bite out of the dish, “-and amazing.”
Meanwhile, Nebula was taking her time to admire the red snapper’s own flavors. It's a simple dish, yet Terrania snappers are wickedly scrumptious. Based on the grilling style, the cross char adds a noticeably crunchy bite to its skin. The stuffed herbs and lemon slices inside the fish’s body brings out a full experience of the soft meat. Her serrated teeth plow through the leanness of its flesh effortlessly. The citrus’s sourness elevates the natural sweetness of its flesh, delighting her tongue. Though it seems like Terranians get rid of the guts and organs for their meal rather than leaving them all in like they do (save for the veins and other gross excrement inside the organism’s body). Other than that, Nebula can’t see herself eating snapper the same way again. The plants used in it have a flavorful rootiness that she can’t get in Chelonia. She’s gotta ask Vortex what they are.
“I think,” Nebula starts, swallowing her bite. “If this wasn’t such a long journey to get here, I would live by the seafood stalls.” Vortex swallows her next big bite, looking to wash it down with a drink. “Ah bellbottoms, I forgot to get drinks for us.” Nebula shrugs, digging further into the snapper. “Don’t need it- look, there’s free drinks right here!” She points to the bottle of hot sauce as a complimentary condiment, and Vortex scrambles fast to stop Nebula from unscrewing the top. “Wait wait WAIT WAIT-!!” she screams, gripping tightly to the bottle. “This is NOT a drink! This is hot sauce! It’s made out of marinating hot peppers in vinegar. You put that on top of your food to give it spice!”
Nebula stares at Vortex and slowly puts the hot sauce down. Vortex releases her hold on the bottle and swipes the sweat from her forehead in relief. “Here, let me show you.” She takes the hot sauce and shakes it down on her gyro, squirting out a heaping helping of it. “I wouldn’t suggest you do what I do since I can handle spice better than most.” She takes a bite out of the spicy coated gyro and grunts out in delight. “Mmn, that’s great. Now you try it, but only a few shakes.” the siren nods, taking the hot sauce from Vortex and placing a small amount on top of the fish. She takes the bite while the werewolf watches for her reaction with bated breath.
“This is…” Nebula says, letting the mix rest on her tongue. "...DELICIOUS!! It's just like the comet plant back home!!! We grind it into flakes and marinate meat in it, but this is so much more flavorful!!"
Vortex ‘phew’s out in relief, glad that the hot sauce didn’t make Nebula suddenly implode or swell up. She’s still not sure what foods are safe for Nebula to eat down here. “This is a pretty basic hot sauce we have. Some people around here can’t take the heat, but me, I think it’s a sweet heat.” Vortex swallows her food, belatedly realizing she was talking with her mouth full. “A month or so back, the pot held a competition where they’d make a whole cauldron full of the spiciest peppers filled to the brim. There’d be noodles, vegetables, rice, and a lot of heavy filling carbs in there, but the first to finish the whole thing would be crowned ‘Spice Knight’ and have their picture taken.” Vortex gestures to the noodle vendor section. “Plus you’d get discounts on the cooks’ stalls until the next one.” Nebula wiggles her way up to see if she can spot the picture at the stalls. It’s a bit hard to see what with the bustling vending, but she manages to find a clear shot of the winner and-
“No way!” she cries out. “You were this year’s champion?!”
“Thirty seven minutes and that cauldron was wiped clean,” Vortex semi-jokes. “Last year’s champion did it in forty one minutes. Never saw me coming!”
“What kind of peppers were in there?” Nebula asks, stars twinkling in her eyes as she leans forward to listen intently. “Oh, it has all the possible peppers we can harvest here. There was jalapeno, serrano, habanero, poblano, guajillo. There were some I didn’t recognize, but I knew they also had some trade secret super peppers inside. The skin is not the hard part. What was the hardest was the seeds coating the top of the soup like a layer of ice.” Vortex has put her food down to gesticulate the story more animatedly towards Nebula. “Most of my opponents tried to stall off on eating the seeds first but I was smarter. The longer you let those seeds steep, the spicier your soup is gonna get. So I got to work on the seeds, swallowed it like pills, and kept going,” Vortex details, making a scooping motion. “Man, it hurt like crazy at the beginning! I felt like my tongue was ready to fall off! But after that, it was smooth sailing. I burned through the rice first- soggy rice is atrocious to eat. After that, it was the noodles, then the vegetables, and then picking up the cauldron to chug down the soup plus peppers. Wooo, I really upset the veterans this year!” She finishes her story with a hearty two-clap, a toothy smile adorning her face. “Ahhh, good times, good times. Next time we come here, I should grab some spicy noodles. Sure, it hurts, but I like spice too much to give it up.”
“What do you mean it hurts?” Nebula asks, diagonally tilting her head to the right.
“Spicy hurts Terranians,” Vortex says. “We’re not supposed to actually eat it but we do it because it tastes good.”
“It’s not poisonous?”
“Not to us, no.”
“So… you eat something that hurts you, but you do it because it’s tasty?”
“Yyyyyeah…?”
“Does it have any nutritional value?”
“... not that I… know of?”
“... what,” Nebula whispers. “The actual kchk. Terranians continue to baffle me.”
Vortex belches out loudly, laughing heartily after the fact. “It’s the thrill of the heat! If you think that’s crazy, you should really see what pepper breeders get up to.” She and Nebula continue to share stories of their planet’s dishes together. Sometimes the siren would point to another table’s meal and the werewolf would explain, to the best of her abilities, the dish’s origin, ingredients, and cultural significance. Her eyes sparkle at the newfound information, taking in as much as she could in one sitting.
“You’re pretty smart, Vortex,” Nebula compliments.
“Huh?” she responds, confused about where that came from.
“You know a lot about your own world. How the plants grow, your body, and the meals the people here make. My teachers told me that we would avoid contact with humans because they were stupid and dangerous. But you’re neither. You’re really nice!”
“I-” she starts. Should she deflect to a different topic or make a joke out of this? Getting compliments like these aren’t anything special at school- but over here, no one seems to have a nice thing to say. “I’m… gonna go grab us some drinks,” she decides, getting up from the wooden bench to head over to a drink vendor. She gets called smart quite often in her human form, but to be praised in this one? It’s making her stomach squirm like a worm. Usually, people treat her as if her instincts determine all of her decisions.
Vortex slides in her coins and punches numbers at the beaten up vending machine. It spits out two bottles of soft drinks- one mango flavored, the other grape. In her rush, she forgot to ask what the mermaid would like. She turns around with the pop in tow only to face three other monsters that close the gap.
“‘Scuse me,” she politely asks.
“No,” one of them says. It is a strangely tall goblin, wearing a beaten up blue tunic and brown pants. “‘Scuse you, who do you think you are, showing your face around here?” Vortex’s face scrunches in confusion. She flicks her gaze to the other two monsters and it starts making sense. Two trolls- one chubby, the other top heavy. These three are part of the junior guards to the Beastial Barrier. Their emblems are at the back of their uniform, which is why she didn’t recognize them at first.
“I’m not doing anything. Leave me alone,” she says, trying to sidestep the trio. The goblin cuts her off. “Nah, nah, nah. Walking around here like everything’s all hunky dory.” Her temper begins to bubble, but she takes a breath in to relax. “I’m having a midnight meal. Please let me go,” she reasons. The other trolls tighten any potential escape gaps. It would be simple to swipe at them. But it would cause too much commotion. People down here in the Bubbling Pot may not care about her presence; however, these three are connected to the Beastial Gatekeepers. Trying to defend herself would look like a wild wolf attack. She has to be the bigger person. The heavier troll speaks up- “Yeah, and youse looking for one of these nice folks to munch on, eh?” Her ears lower, a whine threatening to spill out. She has to keep it together. “Always bad mouthing us guards and the mist for trying to protect our own. You expect us to trust you being here?” the top heavy troll intimidates. She glances around to see if anyone would step in to help. Everyone else in their proximity appears to be intentionally ignoring it or trying their best to walk away from the confrontation.
The goblin continues, “who’s to say that you’re not here trying to figure out how to get rid of the mist again? Yucking about how it’s evil and out to get us sounds like a real fearmonger for a wolf like you.” Vortex’s tail tucks in, and she curls in on herself. “It’s a waning crescent tonight. I can’t do much like this. Please let me go back.”
“Hmn,” the goblin hums. “You’re right. You aren’t so strong like this, eh? Well, why don’t I teach you a lesson to stay in the doghouse next time-” and he goes to swing at her face. She flinches, shielding herself, bracing for impact. But the hit never comes, and one of her eyes peek out to see that it’s Samir, the ogre from earlier.
“Hey, HEY! This is my customer! No hitting!” The teenage trio step back in surprise. Samir chastises them with, “Beastial Keepers shouldn’t hurt valuable customers! Senior advisor name? Who is in charge of unit?” Despite his broken English, his authoritative voice booms through. It catches everyone’s attention, and the boys begin to sweat. “Leave! Now!!” he shouts, and the three do so. Vortex sighs out a breath of relief, and her ears catch the faint wind of Nebula’s swimming. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you??” she asks, inspecting Vortex’s poked out masked snout. Samir harrumphs at the ruffians, and turns his attention to the werewolf. “She’s okay! He didn’t hurt her,” the ogre reassures. Vortex’s heart is burning hot red with her blood pumping down to the tiniest capillaries from panic, rage, and frustration. Her breath is too clammy caught up against her face mask. “I’m. I’m fine,” she simply says.
The market goers mutter to themselves, all unsure of what happened. “Is she okay?” “what did she do?” “All I saw was her getting a drink” and “should we say something?” is what Vortex picks up. Her hands grip tightly at the aluminum cans still in her hold. She needs to get out of here, stat.
“Let’s go,” she orders Nebula. She strides out of the thin stalls to make her way back to the picnic benches on the shore side. “Wait, hold on!” Nebula shouts, sprinting to keep pace with the werewolf. “What was that all about?” she asks. Vortex does not answer at first, too preoccupied with setting the fizzy drinks down to put their food away back in the plastic bags. “Why were they surrounding you like you were a criminal? All you were doing was getting us something to sip on!”
“...” Vortex remains quiet. Her mind swirls as a maelstrom of thoughts swim around the crevices of her brain. She ties the bags into a knot, holding on to both of them with one hand while picking the other two cans back up with the other.
“Vortex…?” Nebula whispers out, trying to look into where her eyes should be.
“It’s always been like this,” the werewolf grits out. “Everywhere I go in here, people treat me like that.” She starts speed walking off to the side where more benches stretch out. “There’s a shortcut to the Shrub Stack if we go this way. I don’t want to come back to Priestess with a full belly and nothing for her.” Nebula opts to follow suit, not uttering another word.
She doesn’t understand. Why would anyone treat Vortex so cruelly? Ever since Nebula crash landed here, the werewolf has been nothing but kind to her. Risked her life twice to keep her safe! All of these under-the-breath insinuations that the young lycanthrope was not who she was only upsets the cosmic siren further. They cross the cobblestone path to this “Shrub Stack” in silence.
Nebula decides to pipe up. “You know-” she starts with. Vortex slightly angles her snout to face the siren. The hot pink merfolk clams up. “I- I think you’re kazhuln (kah-zoo-ln).”
“... what in Artemis did you call me?” Vortex puzzledly asks.
“Ah. Uhmn. Kazhuln is a phrase in Chelonia to… how do I translate this…? Describe a siren- or in this case a werewolf- that is not who everyone says they are. Usually when it’s someone that is made out to be mean but is really nice. The term was invented during j'eol-nuptturil campaigns of the past, which translates to… Against acts of Bully.”
Vortex absorbs the newfound information. A puff of air escapes her nostrils. “And what would this word be useful for?”
“Er… well, the idea was to combine two other existing words, kazala (cuh-zah-luh) and hulnos (ool-no-s). Kazala means ‘condemned’ with a plural implication, as in 'by others', while hulnos means 'to be kind'."
“Hmn,” the werewolf acknowledges. “If your people ever met me, I think they’d call me a Kazhuln as a name rather than my actual one.” They continue walking while chatting. Vortex notes the neon sign of “SHRUBSTACK” up ahead.
“I still don’t understand,” Nebula continues. “Garriz told me that the sanctuary was a place for all kinds of monsters to be safe and accepted.”
“I’m tolerated, not accepted,” Vortex says. “There’s a difference.”
“But you’re all still living beings that have feelings,” Nebula says, trying to make sense of the nonsensical nature of these bizarre exceptions. “Shouldn’t that be enough?” Vortex scoffs, taking two steps up the staircase at a time. “Here’s something your people need to learn about us Terranians: the ones who make up the rules can keep making them up, no matter how ridiculous they are. Haven’t you noticed that there aren’t any other werewolves here?” Nebula takes a scan around the area. She sees orcs, fey, centaurs, trolls… but she’s right. The only werewolf around here is Vortex.
“About twenty five years ago or so, there was a great fight that caused the barrier to go up in the first place. Apparently everyone that was there said the reason why the mages cast it was because a group of human conquerors tried to invade the sanctuary to ‘cleanse’ them of evil monsters for ‘good’ ones. The ones they considered good were a band of werewolves who had a bone to pick with someone in here.” Nebula listens intensely, her ears angled facing fully at the she-wolf. “When the community was able to drive them off, they agreed to never let werewolves in the sanctuary again.”
“Are- are we breaking that rule right now?” Nebula asks.
“No. I’m allowed in the market because traders still wanted to do business with werewolves. That is an exception.” The two are closing in on the outdoor shop. “If I’m to come here, I need to hide myself. That’s why I wear my cape and hood at all times. They let me in here so long as I’m hidden away from their eyes. An out of sight, out of mind deal.”
“Not to say that everyone around here is mean to me. Samir was nice while he cooked up my food. Priestess takes care of me when the night falls. Garriz… trains me. Thierve is always letting me in on the latest fish hauls so I can take them to the village at the outskirts. I like to make sure the little ones are fed.”
“So long as I have them, I’ll be okay.” Vortex tries to show a smile from her face mask, momentarily forgetting that her snout is covered. Nebula nods, glad that Vortex is keeping an optimistic outlook. What does bother her, however, is the werewolf’s undoubtedly underlying mournful tone.
“What about me?” She asks, catching Vortex off guard. The two make it to the line for Shrubstack- luckily, there are only two or so monsters ahead of them in the queue.
“Huh?” Vortex responds.
“I’m nice to you,” Nebula points out. “Why didn’t you include me…?”
That. Is a loaded question and a half. A loaded baked potato of one, if you will. Nebby looks a little bit sadder the longer Vortex takes to answer her. Vortex clicks her tongue, sucking in air between her jutting lower two teeth.
“You… won’t be around for very long for that to matter,” the werewolf ultimately answers. “We still need to get you back home.” Keeps their arrangement non-personal.
“I see,” Nebula mutters. Her ears droop down, looking away from the werewolf. They finally get to the front of the stall and Vortex orders Priestess’ usual elk-worthy salad bowl. The food is paid for, given, and they’re off once more.
When they get back to Priestess’ hut, she is out on the porch sitting down on her rocking chair. The elder lady is petting Junebug, who is curled up on her pitch dark robed lap, purring rhythmically.
“Ah, there you are, you two,” she greets. Though neither of them can see an actual mouth on the elk woman, her pure white eyes crinkle upwards. “Were you able to get me my usual?” Vortex extends her arm to pass off the bag to the Haitian priest. She gingerly takes it off of Vortex’s furred hands. “Mèsi, little one.” She places it beside her on her small, round outdoor table. “Oh, but before you go for the evening, there was one more thing I was hoping you could help me with. Is it too late, or?” The werewolf checks the analog clock hanging up inside the hut through the glass window panes. A quarter until five in the morning. She has about an hour or two before the sun rises once more.
“I’ve got some time,” Vortex says. “What is it?”
“Come with me,” Priestess beckons, gently prying Junebug off of her lap and places the fluffy feline back inside the hut. “There’s something I need to show the both of you.” Vortex and Nebula diligently follow her, entering a thicker part of the bushes that surrounds her abode. “A long time ago, back when I first happened upon the Beastial Sanctuary, I made some good friends. We expected us to spend our lives side by side. Nothing ever romantic, mind you-” she explains, weaving through the thick forest’s roots effortlessly. “-simply that our lives would be more adventurous if we did it together. We pooled our resources together in hopes of settling down in a big home.”
“Did you guys ever do it?” Vortex prods. She nearly trips on a stray branch, caught by Priestess’ quick hand. They give her a chance to steady once more before continuing forward. “That’s exactly what I wish to show you.”
The three make it to a semi-clearing, hidden behind vines and overhanging branches. Priestess pushes the overgrowth aside. “Gaze upon the Cabin of Tablet Lake.”
“Woahhhh,” Vortex awes, staring at the marvelous scenery. She crosses through to straighten her back up. A warm, mahogany red-brown cabin sits in front of a luminous, glowing lake, the water sparkling from the moonlight’s gentle kiss. Logs of firewood rest beside the home. True to its name, the lake sits on the hillside plateau in a tablet shape. Various environments graze all sides of this home. One part of it has evergreen trees bleeding into the mountains above, a light sheet of snow covering the top of the grassy cones. Another warps into strange blue leaves with equally strange spruce wood matching the hue. It appears to be an epicenter of all sorts of biomes, short of desert cacti. “This is so beautiful,” Nebula comments. “But why bring us here?”
Priestess leads the two to follow her to the front door of the cabin. “I need your help finding some new… tenants, so to speak.” She reaches into her deep, dark indigo cloth. They hear rustling before she pulls out a set of keys, showing the glint of the worn brass-nickel. “Will you two take care of my old home?”
Both of them gasp, taken aback by Priestess’ request. “But Miss Priestess,” Nebula says. “It’s clearly more spacious than your other place. Why not move back in here rather than let us have it?”
“It’s… been a long time since I last stepped foot here,” Priestess admits. “Twenty or so years. I got close with my hut a decade back, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. With you two on this adventure, you’re going to need a hub to meet each other. Better than my place and that ol’ grump down the road.” She takes Vortex’s hand in her free one, and releases the key set in the werewolf’s palm. “I also thought that Nebby might like to have a swim in the lake every now and again to keep her scales moisturized. Isn’t that right, scaly lady?”
They turn to look at Nebula, but do not see her. Instead, the two hear a loud splash as the siren has practically shot down to the lake like an arrow flying off of a bow. “There’s her answer,” Vortex remarks.
“Go ahead and get situated. I need to speak with Nebby in private for a moment,” Priestess says. Vortex nods, turns the key in the lock to open the front door and examine the layout. She is surprised to see a living room immediately to her right. A comfortable looking pale green canvas couch is snug in front of the windows. Two throws cover the sofa- one a faded woven yellow fabric, one a polyester dark gray. A CD tower accents the corner of the room, set beside the couch. Albums from various artists fill the gaps. Beside it is a basic lamp. An old television set is supported by a horizontal wooden bookshelf, filled with other media. She recognizes that there are a few game consoles in some of the cubbies.
A couple of feet away from the living room is the dining room and kitchen behind it. Three chairs surround a white, quaint, humble dining table. A kitchen island squishes the space. The kitchen area is wide. A gas stove with four burners and an oven stands surprisingly clean. The eggshell white fridge is disconnected. The spice cabinets are still fully stacked, untouched in practically ages. Everything else is stocked with all the necessities- as if time had not gazed upon the interior until now. Now’s a good time to finally put down their leftovers and drinks next to the sink.
She checks down the hallway. Three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a big closet. A staircase is next to the closet door, leading up to what appears to be a studio. Stray carved wood, clothing, and some strange contraptions dust the sides. Parts of the roof above her are covered in spider cobwebs. But overall, it’s a clear space.
Meanwhile, Priestess approaches the edge of the lake, waiting for Nebula to resurface. When she does, she gestures to the siren to come closer.
“Nebby, be honest with me: did anything happen while you two were at the market?”
Nebula hesitates to answer, but sighs. No point in lying to the woman. “Yes. There were these three strange monsters that tried to corner Vortex. I tried to rush over to help, but by the time I got there, someone else had intervened.” She draws circles on the ground, letting the grassy blades tickle her webbing. “She looked really shaken up. She wouldn’t tell me why they did it.”
“I understand,” Priestess says, lowering her gaze to the floor.
“Miss Priestess,” Nebula says. “Am I… doing something wrong?”
“Why do you think that, little one?” the elk lady questions, tilting her head and antlers.
“Earlier, when Vortex and I were eating together… She was so animated. We were sharing stories, laughing, and sharing our food to try out. It really felt like I finally made a breakthrough.” Priestess nods along.
“But after that scuffle, she shut me out. Was it something I said?” Nebula asks, flattening her body out to a partial starfish formation, floating along the glowing lake’s gentle current.
“What could you have said to warrant that worry?”
“... I asked her why she didn’t say my name when she was talking about the people who are nice to her here. She told me ‘because it wouldn’t matter’ since she’s trying to get me home.” Nebula cannot make out eyebrows on the elk woman, but her eyes shoot wide open. “She really said that? Ay. How harsh of her. But that may have been on purpose,” the elder priest explains.
“What do you mean?” Nebula asks her.
Priestess elaborates, “Vortex is someone who can easily make friends. It may come as a surprise, but she’s perfectly capable of understanding people’s emotions and the tones in their voices. Much better than the average person if I may add.” She gesticulates with her hooved hands, her jewelry slightly jingling from the motion. She curls her fingers into her palm. “However, she gets attached far too easily to others. Knowing your fate- be it good or bad- she will have to reckon saying goodbye to you, one way or another.”
“So… you’re saying she’s doing this on purpose because she doesn’t want to be sad when I have to leave?” Nebula asks. “But… she’s still doing this to help me. She must care. That has to count for something, right?”
“Of course it does, little one,” Priestess assures.
“So, why…?” Nebula whispers. Small budding tears stream down her face to join the waters below. “I want to go home, but I’m so lonely in all of this.”
Priestess has no words to comfort the siren. The quiet looms over the two.
“Hey!” Vortex shouts from the patio. The two turn to look at the werewolf. “This place is amazing! Thanks so much for letting us live here!” She trots over to the ladies, sitting down in front of the lake. Nebula wipes her eyes and grounds herself; she's nimble in subtly drying her tears, masking the motion by running her hands backwards through her hair.
“Not a problem, little one,” Priestess says. “Now comes the matter of payment.” Vortex’s eyes stretch from her hood, hands freezing mid-air in a crunchy position. “P-payment? You know I have school to worry about, right?”
“Not that sort of payment,” Priestess says. The werewolf lets out a massive sigh of relief. “Now, I will allow the two of you- and Axle- to live under that roof under this one condition as payment.” They lean in, anticipating whatever comes out of the elder elk woman’s mouth.
“Memories,” she utters. “Make memories during your time adventuring and in the cabin together. Tell me good ones once a week- at minimum once a month. If you can do that, then you are free to stay here as long as you’d like.”
Vortex nods eagerly, her hooded head a blur in how speedy her acceptance was. “Memories, got it! We’ll make ones we all will never forget!”
“Thank you,” Priestess said. “Now, I must return back to my hut. Junebug might be getting antsy without me there for bedtime.” The two wave their goodbyes at the spiritual elk. “Oh shoot, I forgot we never got to pick up Axle!” Vortex shouts. “Come on Nebula- let’s go back to Garriz’s place and grab them. Get your stuff out of his house too! We’ve got a cool as heck cabin to ourselves. Most people would spend their entire lives saving up for something like this!”
“Ah, right!” Nebula says, peeling herself off of the waters to venture off to Garriz’s blacksmithing quarters with Vortex far ahead of her. Everything is coming to fruition for a grander adventure ahead of them. As to what they might encounter sends a thrill of adrenaline down Vortex’s back. With the moonstones in their hands, she’ll be one step closer to completely reversing this curse AND getting Nebula back home. The crack of dawn begins to rise as they sprint off into the distance, unaware of the stories they shall weave side by side.