Chapter One: Island Madness
Dehydration is a funny thing.
Being surrounded by undrinkable water while suffering from dehydration is a funny irony.
Being stuck on a dinghy that looks nothing more than an impromptu hotel room for horny pirates, if the used contraceptives, liquor bottles, and suspicious stains were anything to go by, is just plain horrible. I suppose this is what one gets when trusting a pirate captain, who just so happens to owe you a life debt, to ferry you across an ocean. You end up in the S.S. Syphilis after the ship gets taken down by a sea monster with dicks for tentacles.
I wish I was joking.
I got slightly nudged by one, and all I want for now is a bath. And freshwater. But so far seagull blood has been getting me by. Well, it was. Up until they got smart to my little string trap. Then I tried to fish with their inedible innards, just to lose an oar to some unspeakable horror that ripped it out of the holder it was screwed into.
I hate oceans.
Just as I was starting to consider strangling myself with my jacket, then realizing that I could have just slit my throat with my knife, I felt the dingy run into something. Sitting up from my prone position, I saw that I had drifted onto a beach. I wanted to be happy, but my happy was broken.
Putting my jacket back on and slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder, I disembarked from the dinghy, promptly fell on my face from lack of movement for a few days. I stood back up after stretching a bit.
(
The feeling of sand under my hooves was a feeling I hoped to never get used to. From being told by others, of whom I still have no idea why they were telling me this, is that beaches are very romantic places to take a special someone, to take your family to on a vacation, or to just be alone. I am also reminded of how people love to litter. A liquor bottle here, a used needle here, a dropped knife over yonder.
To me, the beach seems to be a place where tetanus likes to take a loved one, take the family on vacation, or where it just likes to be alone. Yes the beach may seem like a great place to go, until the littlest one of the family decides that the shiny red thing needs to be chewed on, or your loved one has glass shoved into their back from the motion of your ocean. Or belly. Whichever position really. It could be your lover's penis being cheese grated against glass, or your penis as he or she rides you. Either way, its something no one wants.
I made my way up the beach towards what looked to be a road. Or flat ground. Same thing really.
As I walked, it began to rain.
"Really?" I said, looking up at the sky, "The entire time I'm stranded out at ocean, and not a drop. Really?"
Cursing the weather I zipped up my jacket from its previous badassery four-fifths of the way up, and began what looked to be a long walk up what I am dubbing tetanus family incest resort and spa. Because you can only bring a special someone or your family to a beach, so why not make your late night sex buddy your family! Don’t be the lonely, creepy guy masturbating with broken glass and rusty metal bits, make it wholesome family bonding time!
My brain is weird when dehydrated. All the time, in actuality.
Getting off the beach, I entered what looked to be a valley with what appeared to be a town far away in the distance. By experience, if there was a town, then there is a freshwater source to be had.
I thrust my head into the fountain's waters, gulping like mad. The water tasted horrible and stale. I was sure to get a nasty illness from it, but all that be damned, it was drinkable.
Resurfacing after a long while, I breathed in like it was going out of style. Taking a moment, I looked at the town surrounding me as the rain continued to fall. It was a quaint little town. Lot of thatch houses though. Could very easily burn it down if the need became apparent.
I spotted a tavern, and my stomach decided to pitch in its needs, but seeing as I did not have the local currency needed for such an endeavor, it was quickly dismissed. There was, however, an awning above a shop of some kind that would work as temporary shelter from this accursed rain.
After filling my canteen with the drinkable herpes water, I made my way over to the awning and sat below it. Dripping wet, but safe from further wetting.
Der’mo, I’m tired. Should look for somewhere to sleep later. Hopefully the rain lets up soon. Sleeping in snow is one thing, but rain just gets everywhere.
Without anything else to do, I resigned myself to where I sat for the time being. It was nice in a way. Gave me time to think without having to worry about dying of something or another. Thank Mat’ Zima for that, at least. Though it did make me want for some vodka to celebrate making landfall in relatively good condition. Considering what I have been through to make it at least this far was saying a lot.
Which brings memories of that one d'yavol that was shaped like a penis. Balls and everything. Wiggled around like a short, fat snake, spewing white colored acid out of its vertical mouth. Felt dirty just killing the damned thing. Not to mention when I did, its ‘tescticles’ exploded with smaller d'yavol shapped like wriggly spears.
Weirdest d'yavol ever.
Now that I’ve brought that thought into being, something even worse will be in my future. With a small groan of annoyance, I took a sip of the foul water from the canteen to further quench my thirst.
Leaning my back against the wooden part of the window frame behind me, I felt my full exhaustion set in. I really did not want to fall asleep here, but to be fully honest with myself, I do not think my body will let me stay awake much longer.
With a sigh, I pulled my arms into my jacket and leaned further upon the building. I fought to keep my eyes open a bit longer, but it was a losing battle. With the rain providing a soothing melody, I reluctantly fell into unconsciousness.
“Vy delayete khorosho, ditya moye.”
My eyes snapped open at the familiar voice, darting wildly in their sockets, looking for someone I knew wasn’t there. I did hear a familiar crackling sound. Looking down, I saw an arrow made of ice, pointing towards the west. As soon as I saw it, it melted away, as if it wasn’t actually there. But I knew better. Putting my arms back into the sleeves, I turned west and began walking, my pains forgotten.
It was then that I noticed what was wrong with this town. The day was almost over, the clouds turning a dark orange as the sun began to set. One would suspect that the villagers would be hurrying to finish their last minute tasks before dark, but there was no one. Not a single soul. Not a sound outside of the rain falling down.
I slowed to a stop and looked around, my ears swiveling as well. There were no signs of life, no distant voices, despite being in the center of town. There were lanterns lit, so the village hadn't been this way for long. The village felt wrong. Looked wrong.
I continued West, putting the village out of my mind.
A lighthouse.
It was the only thing in this direction, seeing as the land was nothing but rolling valley in any other direction, except the hill before me with the lighthouse on top, over looking a very steep cliff. Seeing nothing better to do, and wanting to get out of the rain, I made my way up the hill.
The lighthouse itself was nothing special. Red and white stripes wrap around the building horizontally all the way up to the glass dome at the top. A bright beam of light slowly rotating at the top. Reaching the door to the tower, I knocked three times and backed up a little bit.
I heard the sound of shuffling hooves, followed by something thumping against the door, moaning all the while.
“Blin,” I cursed under my breath.
Stepping forward lightly, I gently put a hoof on the latch to the door, twisted and pushed. The door slowly swung inwards, guided by my hoof. A stallion shoved his blood covered muzzle through the small gap, aiming his snapping jaws at my neck. Pulling the door closed, I trapped the beasts head in between the door and its frame.
“Nezhit',” I growled.
Using my free hoof, I pulled my knife out of my belt. Delicately, I got the knife lined up with the beasts’ neck. With a quick thrust, the blade lodged itself nicely between its vertebrae. Although weakly, the beasts’ struggles continued. A hard turn of the knife, followed by a loud crack. Aside from its head that I was still holding firm with the door, the rest of its body went limp. Wiping the knife off, I put it back in its sheathe.
Opening the door, and stepping around the still snapping jaws, I made my way inside the lighthouse. There was what remained of a pony on the floor, bones covered in blood with bits of flesh and organs scattered about. Dragging the beast away from the door, I closed and locked it, shoving a couch from the corner in front of it. I took a blanket that was resting on said couch and covered the nezhit' with it. Luckily, the windows on the ground floor were too small for even a child to fit through. Now that two main problems were taken care off, I started to rummage through to place to see if there was anything worth value, and to attract anymore nezhit' that might be inside.
Looking around, I saw that the bottom floor of this place was arranged to be like a living room with an attached kitchen, lit up by electric lighting. I don’t remember seeing any power lines leading here, so the power must be coming from a different source. A dining table sat to one side, piled high with what looked to be random junk. Mostly bits of driftwood. Rummaging through the kitchen proved fruitful. The cabinets were stocked with canned food, and a cold box held perishables. There was also a sink and a gas powered stove.
Guess who is going to have a hot meal tonight? This Kozak, thats who!
Leaving the little kitchen area, I made my way toward the stairs leading up. There was blood leading down them towards the aforementioned bone and blood pile. I carefully made my way up, avoiding the blood as not to slip. Reaching the second floor, I saw utter chaos. From what little was not thrown around, I guessed that this place was the bedroom. A bed was flipped over towards the stairs I just came up, with two more by the far wall, and a dresser by each bed. A pool of blood rested before the side of the bed facing me.
Its a crude barricade, I surmised.
“Hello? Is there anyone up there?” I yelled from the base of the stairs.
I was answered by a small box being thrown at me, of which I barely dodged.
“Go away!” Yelled a mare from the next level.
“I’m only here to help, ma’am. I am good guy,” I replied in the nicest tone I could manage.
“No! That… thing, is still down there!”
“The nezhit? I took care of that. There is no danger.”
“I don’t believe you!” She yelled, throwing another box down, missing me by a kilometer.
I let out a long sigh. Thinking hard, I decided on a plan.
“Alright, alright. You stay up there, I go make food, da?” Maybe clean up a little, “Then you come down, then, okay?”
“Go away!” she shrieked again.
“Fine, be stubborn. You take too long, I don’t promise to save you food.”
With that, I went back downstairs.
I didn’t take very long to clean up the remains. Being as respectful as possible, I put the bones and organ bits into a bag, then tossed them under the stairs like potatoes. I then went about cleaning up the blood with a rag and a bucket of water. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot less slippery now. Cleaning off my hooves, I started on dinner.
There were mostly vegetables and fruits in the cold box, no meat, but I could do without. While chopping up the vegetables, I put a pot to boil on the stove. Once all the vegetables were all chopped, carrots, potatoes, and a few I couldn’t name due to my lacking Equestrian vocabulary, I put them all in the now boiling pot of water.
Helping myself to an apple, I walked over to the cloth covered nezhit. Finishing off the apple, I pulled the blanket off the damned thing. It was still chomping away at nothing. I pulled out my knife, and got to work.
Despite nezhit, or undead as I have heard some call them, being simple in nature, they are actually quite hard to produce. A fungus powered nezhit is the most simple, but easiest to deal with. Those you just kill and be done with it. If its koldovstvo, witchcraft, then its a bit trickier.
Such as, if the witch is good enough, they can make the nezhit with the ability to heal as long as the beasts ingest food. Such as the pony I had to clean up a moment ago. They can also make the beasts turn to ash when killed. Which is why I left it alive. They can also tell when one is killed. Like a beacon, it tells the caster precisely where their servants were killed. A very effective add on for them, trouble, for ones such as myself.
I first used the knife to cut the muscles needed to move the lower jaw, making it safer to work on. Checking the inside of the mouth, I looked at the gums to see if they were inflamed and leaking anything. They were not, and thus ruled out the fungus.
Closing the mouth, I contemplated where to check next. There is almost always a mark of where the witch’s magic penetrated the body, making him into a nezhit. Be it a burn mark, a symbol of some kind, or what have you. Checking behind the ears yielded nothing. Moving the beast onto its stomach, I then began to check its back for any marks.
There.
Right where the neck and shoulders met. A small black circle with an eye at the center, weeping blood from either side, was burned into its fur. Shaving away the fur with my knife, I saw that it was also on the flesh, and that dark lines had begun to spread from the circle. So… a day, maybe two, is how long this thing has been walking around, judging on how far the lines were.
“So that mare has been trapped up there awhile,” I muttered looking towards the ceiling, “Poor thing.”
Odd. I don't usually care about others. At all. Wierd.
With the knife, I stabbed the creature in the skull, the blade passing right through. There were no muscles attached to the brain for the body to twitch, so all I got in response was the thunk of the blade. The beast did not burst into flames, so that was a skill beyond the witch. The beacon part is apparently easier, if the witch that was ‘interrogated’ back home a few years ago is anything to go by.
I wiped off and sheathed the blade. I then wrapped the corpse in the blanket from before. Finding some rope on the cluttered table, I used it to bind the blanket around the damned thing. One can never be too careful with things like this. I dragged it under the stairs and put it next to the organ bag.
Heh… nezhit’ doggy bag...
Taking a rag, I whipped off the beast’s stale blood off of myself, then checked on the stew. The water was still clear, and the vegetables didn’t fall apart at my prodding with a knife from a drawer, so it needed a bit longer. Putting the knife on the counter, I looked around the room to see if there was anything to entertain myself with while I waited on the stew to be ready.
All of my gear had been cleaned, sharpened, or what have you while I was stuck on the dinghy, so that was out. Noticing the blood trail on the stairs, then remembering the mare upstairs, I sighed and grabbed a rag.
Kozak cleaning service to the rescue!
Cleaning up the blood didn’t take as long as I would have liked, so after that was done I tidied up the second floor some. I put the bed back where it looked to have gone, found some more coins while putting the bedside table back, and a sword when standing a dresser that I hadn’t noticed before backup. The sword was ordinary, and definitely mass produced. The blade was sharpened to a point, but not as well as it could have been. I slipped it into my duffel nonetheless. One can never have too many sellable items.
“You still there?” the mare upstairs weakly yelled do as I was about to leave.
“Da, ma’am, I am still here,” I replied, turning around and walking over.
“Is it really safe now?” she asked fearfully
“Da.”
“What?”
“Oh, uh… yes. Yes, it is.” Damn new languages and their infernal need to be different.
She took a few seconds to respond as I waited patiently. Well, as patient as someone starving as they smell food cooking, and knows that said food is theirs.
“What's your name?” I detected a small bit of hope in those words.
“My name is Iosif. I mean you no harm, and it is safe down here. The nezhit’ has been dealt with, and the door downstairs is blocked off from entry. Please, come down?” I asked with faked sincerity. I honestly did not care if she came down or not. But Mat’ Zima sent me here for a reason.
“Okay… okay, I’m coming down.” She said mostly to herself.
Sure enough, a blueish-green aura appeared around the boxes and furniture blocking the stairwell as they started to float up the stairs. After barely a minute, all of the barrier was removed and the mare showed herself for the first time.
Her mane was bright green with a horn sticking out of the mess that it was. Her fur was light red, and her brown eyes showed nothing but fear and uncertainty as she looked me over. I offered nothing but a kind smile. At least, I hoped it looked kind. After taking that all in, my brain decided to transmit what should have been most apparent. She was naked.
“Vot der'mo,” I cursed under my breath as I did an about face, shutting my eyes tight. “Sorry!”
“What!? What is it!?” she shrieked from the stairs.
“I’m sorry! I did not realise you were unclothed up there!” I responded, my eyes still firmly shut and back turned.
“What? But I hardly ever wear clothes…” She said, sounding confused.
Oh my, shes a whore…
“You’re not from around here, are you?” She still sounded confused.
“No ma’am. The dinghy I was in washed ashore a few hours ago.”
“Are you a foreigner?” she asked with what sounded like fascination.
“Da. I’m from a… very far away place. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“Oh, alright. Anyway, ponies around here usually don’t wear clothes.” What. “Besides you, I don’t think anypony here ever has outside of winter.”
“Is this place a nudist colony?” It was a reasonable question.
“A what?”
I… I can’t, I don’t… what. My brain fumbled for a coherent way to process this information. Her patience, however, ran out.
“Whatever. You said you had food right?”
“Um… Da.”
“Good. I haven’t eaten in like… two days.” and with that, she walked down the stairs, around me, and down the other stairs. Leaving me not knowing anything about what was going on.
Der’mo.
Opening my eyes, I caught sight of her tail as she went down the stairs. I was very thankful that was all I saw. So… theres a naked women downstairs. And were all alone. Not sure what do.
I don’t like people. At all. Most of whom I run into try to kill me, along with most everything else that I come across. Except Mao. He was a nice person. Taught me Equestrian. So not everyone is out to kill me. Just most.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I decided to just wing it, and hope this didn’t end with me stabbing her to death. I did not enjoy doing that to women. Most of the women I have killed deserved it, but I still did not like doing it.
I slowly made my way down the stairs, keeping my eyes high. That is, of course, when I tripped down said stairs because I was not watching where it was walking. I heard the mare giggle from where ever she was in the room. I offered a miserable moan in response.
“The proper way to respond when someone falls down a flight of stairs is to make sure they are all right, not laugh, suka,” I growled as I righted myself.
“Excuse me if I find it hilarious that the rough and tumble bladeslinger fell down some stairs,” she said smugly, getting herself a bowl of the stew I made.
“What is a ‘bladeslinger?” I asked, stealing her bowl of stew.
“Hey! That was mine!” She yelled as I walked over the couch.
“Not anymore.” I sat down and immediately dug into the bowl of stew. Oh, yeah, thats the stuff… Despite being just a simple stew, it tasted delicious. Did I mention that I was starving?
She glared at me as I ate. I guess that she was trying to set me on fire, or something. With a huff, she got another bowl, filled it, and sat on the couch a small distance from me.
“A bladeslinger is somepony that wanders around with a sword, doing good and such.” she muttered.
“Ah. Thank you for clearing that up. One flaw with your logic.” I said in between mouthfuls.
“And whats that?” Huffy Puffy blew her house down.
“I’m not wearing my sword.”
“But you do have one.” And Smuggy rebuilt it…
“Alright, you got me.” I finished my bowl and got up to get more. “Where I’m from, we are called Kozaks, or ‘free men’, in your language. Its mostly used as a tittle for those of us in my home that fight in place of regular people.”
“What kind of things do you fight?” she asked, her full attention on me as she ate the stew absentmindedly.
“Well, Nezhit’, like our dead friend over there.” I gestured towards the stairs as I filled my bowl. “Theres other tribes of ponies that want what we have, wild animals, ublyudok Teutons, and d'yavoly. Most d'yavoly.”
Wait… why am I telling her all this?
Boredom.
Ah.
“Whats a… dee-ya-vo-lay?”
“First, thats the plural form of the word. Second, your accent is horrible. Work on it. A d’yavol, in your language, means demon.”
In an instant, her bowl hit the floor, mine went sailing across the room, and her face was right next to mine. Her eyes looking straight into mine.
“You’ve killed demons!?” she asked surprisingly well with my knife against her throat.
“Yeeesssss…” I answered slowly.
“Thats great! You can help me with the one on the island!”
“A d’yavol?”
“Yeah, that! Lady Blood, my mentor, summoned one a few days ago!” With that, she got off me and started walking around the room, “This is perfect! You can kill it, then kill Lady Blood, and I can take over the mine and start getting some real powers!”
I stood up and put a hoof on her shoulder. She looked up at me with a bright, gleaming smile. Of which disappeared when I slapped her.
“So what you’re saying is… that you’re a witch's apprentice, da?” I slipped my duffel bag off my back and opened it. She was starting to stand back up, with a really big welt on her face, when I pulled out my sheathed Shashka. Her eyes went wide. “Where I am from, witches are killed with a lot of hatred. Mostly because they keep making life worse for other people. Like cursing a land with nezhit’.”
“But I didn’t do it! Lady Blood did!” she yelled, backing up against the wall as I advanced.
“Yes, but she couldn’t have done that without sacrifices. And seeing as you are her apprentice, I am guessing she had you bring them to her, da?”
“Well, um... “ Her eyes darted around, till they met mine. She froze. “Yes… b-but they were total bitches! They made my life horrible!”
I stopped a half-meter from her.
“With your own tongue, you have damned yourself. A life is a life, no matter how horrible the person, you can’t waste it without reason.”
Hypocrite.
“I-I ran away! I don’t want to be a witch anymore!” she cried, her tone desperate. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!”
I unsheathed my sword. Well, tried to. Looking at the sheath, I saw bits of frost around the small guard of the saber. With a sigh, I backed away from the snivelling girl.
“It would seem that your life is not mine to take.” I growled as I put the belt of the saber around my waist, securing it tightly.
“W-what?” she snivelled some more.
“It would appear that Mat’ Zima prefers you to be alive at the moment.” Securing my duffel over my back again, I walked towards the door.
“W-who?”
“I’m fairly sure you will find that out soon.” I said as I moved the couch from in front of the door, then opened said door. “Anyway, I have a witch to kill.”
Into the night I went.
“Wait! What am I suppose to do now!?”
“I am sure you will figure that out.” I called back as I walked into the night, as it was night now. At least the rain had stopped. I took a glimpse over my shoulder, seeing the girl fidgeting at the open door.
One bottle of vodka says she runs after us.
Sure enough, the sound of running approached from my left as I walked further into the darkness. I looked back at her, with a half smile. She looked angry, and about to say something, but instead of words, she screamed at something ahead of us. I turned my head around to barely see a crowd of nezhit walking towards us.
“Oh.” Was all that came to mind. “I need to pay more attention.”
Then they rushed us.
My saber was out before the first one got whiten a meter of us. My blade is sharp and well cared for, I reminded myself as I cut off the first ones head, then stabbed another through its eye socket. From years of using my hoof in sword combat, I moved and danced my bloody way through the mass of them. Stab, slash, shove, run, stab, slash, slash, stab, and so it went as I made my way around the field in front of the lighthouse, going by the bright light passing over from its top.
A flash followed by a fwump went off behind me. Turning around and kicking a nazhit’ back into its brothers, I saw that the damned things had started to box us in, the witch screaming as she sent out fireballs from her horn.
Time to go.
Sheathing my blade, I made a run towards the witch, knocking aside a few nezhit’ in my way. Getting close to the witch, I ducked my head and aimed for her barrel. She turned towards me, her horn lighting up with another fireball. I was faster. Sticking my head under her chest, I flung her onto my back.
“Hang on, suka!” I yelled as I kept running.
Luckily, she grabbed ahold of my duffel. I made a wide left around the horde of damned beasts, trying to get around them. There were more than I thought. Pumping my limbs harder, I gained a little bit more speed, and saw the end of the line of nezhit’ not far from the cliff's edge. As I made another wide left, the witch on my back had apparently gotten her sense back, and began firing fireballs again.
We made it past the line of the nezhit’, in thanks to her fireballs. I hate saying it, but credit given when due. After another fireball, by the light of it, I could see that the horde of nazhit’ were still mostly clustered behind us, with a few stragglers in front of us. Seeing that, for the most part, we were in the clear, I began to run at my all, drastically speeding up.
Soon enough, and a few hill tops later, the lighthouse was but a speck behind us.
After about twenty minutes of running, we came across a stream, and I decided to collapse on my side next to it, panting my head off. I could hear the witch panting from behind me as my head grew fuzzy from the adrenaline withdrawal.
“So… suka… you okay..?”
“My name… is… Ember” she gasped out from behind me.
“Okay, suka Ember, are you okay?” I asked, my breathing coming back under control. “And why are you panting? I was the one running.”
“Because I... almost… died.”
She needs to work out more.
With a grunt, I hauled myself onto my hooves. Sluggishly, I made my way over to the stream. Slipping off my duffle, I pulled out a lantern. Taking a match, I lit it and set it by the waters edge. I looked into the clear waters, focusing on my reflection.
I’m covered in blood again.
With a sigh, I splashed some water onto my face, removing most of the blood. I then check the rest of me. I was absolutely saturated in the dead blood. With a silent curse, I jumped into the water, barely hearing the witch Ember give a yelp as I did so. I stayed under for a bit, enjoying the sting of how cold the water was. It reminded me of home.
After a short time, I surfaced with a small gasp. Paddling the way back to shore, the current being a joke, I hauled myself back onto land with a grunt
“Are you crazy!?” Ember yelled right into my ear. Right. Into it.
“Maybe.” I grunted, rubbing at my ear. “But you are a witch who willfully sacrificed others for a selfish reason.” Hypocrite! “So you have no right to judge me about such.”
She seemed to wilt a little bit at that. Good. Feel the guilt. Kill yourself so I don’t have to.
Pulling my saber out, I took a cloth out of my duffel and began to clean it and the sheath. I hate sheathing it when there is blood on it, but running is far more effective when one is not holding a sword. Good thing was, because I kept it so clean and maintained, hardly any blood stuck to it. But there was always that little bit that needs to be cleaned.
“So now what?” Ember asked. Turning my head, I saw that she was looking at the water. At her reflection, most likely.
“What do you think we should go do?” I asked in return, removing the sheath from my belt to continue the cleaning process.
“I… I don’t know.” Her ears drooped down and she looked ready to cry.
“Well… for starters, we rest up here for the time being, then you are going to lead me to where Lady Blood is. Then I kill her and the d’yavol.”
“That easy, huh?” she asked skeptically.
"Oh by Mat' Zima, no.” I chuckled. “Thats just what I have so far.”
“Okay.” she started, turning towards me. “Who is this ‘Ma Zima’? You’ve mentioned her a couple times now.”
I hummed as I thought of a way to explain Mat’ zima. She is… complicated, to say the least. There was also the question of how much to tell her, and what not to tell her.
“She is… lets just call her my people’s savior for right now, and leave it at that.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” she pouted. It was slightly adorable.
“It will have to do for now.” I replaced the sheath, sheathed my saber, and stood up.
“What is it? More zombies!?” she shrieked, panicking a bit.
“Zombi? Is that what you call nezhit’ here? Hmm. My language actually has a direct translation for that. We just always called them nezhit’, to group all the different kinds together. Funny, seeing as my language and yours developed completely void of each others influence. Odd.”
“What are you going on about!? Are there zombies or not!?”
“No. I just felt like standing up.”
She sputtered a bit, her eye twitching a bit. She finally seemed to decide on screaming to the heavens in response. I just picked my my lantern, put the rope that was tied to it around my neck, and waited for her to finish freaking out. Now she was laying on the ground in the fetal position, crying a bit.
“Suka, we need to get moving. All your screaming might attract more nezhit’.” I said, poking her with my hoof.
“How did we go from eating soup together, to you almost killing me, to talking about your language.” She stated more than asked.
“I stopped questioning things a long time ago. Now get up.”
With a few sniffles, she stood up and turned to face me. She was crying a little bit. Her ears were flat against her head as she used a hoof to brush away some of the tears from one of her eyes. She sniffled, rather freaking adorably.
What is wrong with me today!?
Handing her a handkerchief, which is a weird word to have in a language for a race that doesn’t posses such, she accepted and whipped her eyes with it. I took the moment to put my duffle back on. She then blew her nose on it and offered it back.
“No, no, you keep it.” It has your juices. It is legally yours now.
“Thank you.” she sniffled.
“Alright, now which way to Lady Blood?” I am so punching her in her cunt for that name. I mean, really, Lady Blood? Originality much?
“Towards the center of the island. We’re in the Green Tail woods right now, and this stream flows past it going south. I always followed it upstream when I went to the mines. Before… all of this...”
“Then north it is!” I bellowed with a tooth filled smile, pointing north, and totally ignoring her irrelevant backstory.
“Can I ride on your back again?” She asked pitifully.
“Suka, no!”
