Pug woke with crusty eyes and a mouthful of fur. He sputtered and spat helplessly as he cleared his eyes with one hand, the other struggling to lift Slink’s tail. He stumbled free after a bit of wriggling, his newly available hands pulling clumps of hair off of his tongue as he stumbled out into the morning light. He shuffled over to the well and pulled up a bucketful of water which he used to wash his face and rinse out his mouth of the last few stray hairs clung persistently to the deepest crooks and crannies of his mouth. Once he was cleaned, or at least cleaned as he could be with nothing more than a bucket of cold water, Pug refilled it and nearly lost it as he pulled it out of the well, the rope securing it snapping and falling apart. Pug gave the mangled old cord a frown before tossing it back in the well. It wasn’t likely anyone would be using it again regardless.
In the darkened hall Pug set about doing the chores he would need to start the day. He kindled a fire and withdrew a pot from their collective baggage to boil water in. He, of course, found one in Lina’s bags but was more than a little uncertain if he should use it. He scraped at the inside of the vessel with a questing finger before withdrawing his hand and sniffing at it tentatively. It didn’t smell very alchemical, but he wasn’t sure it meant it wasn’t contaminated by some concoction or another.
“What are you doing with Lina’s pot?” Pug’s eyes flicked over to Slink, who was watching him with a bemused grin. The fairy covered his startlement with a cough and a quick retort.
“I’m trying to make sure I won’t accidentally poison the water.” His words were terse and clipped by embarrassment, though he hoped the marten didn’t pick up on it. He slapped the pot down over Slink’s nose before the marten could say anything. “Now smell this and tell me if it’s clean.
“It’s clean, it’s clean! It just smells like metal.” The marten’s voice was tinny and nasally as he whipped his head back to free his snout. He skittered back, eyeing Pug and the pot in his hands warily. Pug ignored him though, satisfied if the marten’s finely tuned sense of smell hadn’t picked anything up then the pot was at least mostly trustworthy. He filled the pot with the contents of the bucket and set it on the fire before tossing it away into the shadows in the corner of the room
While he waited for the water to boil Pug moved over to Lina, who had been hidden under Slink’s tail until the furry creature had fled from the might of the pot. Pug’s so-far congenial mood soured as he checked her over, noting she was just as pale as she had been the night before. Slink’s fur was stuck to her sweat-slick skin, and the only positive change Pug could see was her breathing had deepened and normalized overnight. Letting out a sigh, Pug picked himself up off his knees and went to his bags, where he rummaged about for a few scrap articles of clothing, which he cannibalized for rags. These he dropped into the now boiling pot of water, watching them intently for several minutes before using his knife to fish out the largest looking of the batch. This he let cool to the point of handling before bringing it to Lina. He paused for a moment, standing over her, shooting Slink a look.
“She hears nothing about this.” His voice was flat and serious.
Slink sobered and looked away as Pug began the awkward and painstaking process of bathing an unconscious friend. The silence of the hall was broken by the occasional shuffling and groaning, punctuated by sharp whispers of ‘why-are-gnomes-so-blasted-heavy’. He laid the gnome back down on her bedroll with a sigh of relief once he was done, immediately fishing out the rest of the smaller rags. These he used to clean her wounds, most of which were small and innocuous and not at all life threatening. The worst by far was the wound on her head, the flesh around it red and inflamed even though there was no pus in the wound. Pug cleaned it thoroughly and applied another poultice before applying a fresh set of bandages. While he had the materials out he did the same for Slink, who dipped his head in gratitude as the fairy worked.
done, he dried and dressed Lina as best he could in some of her spare clothes. He took up the old bandages and rags he used to clean her wounds and began to feed them to the fire. Slink watched on with a curious twinkle in his eye. As Pug tossed the last scrap in, he spoke.
“Why’d you burn the bandages?” Slink asked, his tail covering his nose as the foul smelling smoke wafted past him.
“Goblins were just living here, and they’re likely to come back once we move on. They never forget a hovel they can scurry into. They’re wicked creatures, and a shaman can work many fell magics with someone’s blood. It’s best not to let them have access to it, even if it is old and befouled by the time they get to it.”
Pug’s mouth twisted in disgust. Goblins and evil magic were topics disturbing enough to leave a foul taste in his mouth. The idea of them digging up their trash pit to pull dirty rags out of it turned his stomach, and when Slink spoke again he was grateful for the distraction.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help with… well, all of it.” Slink said sheepishly.
“It’s alright Slink, we each have a job to do. Hers is to heal, mine is to help her while she does .” A mischievous grin split his face as he continued. “And your role my friend? Your role is to carry her.”
“Alright, alright, cool it for a second. We’ll load her up after I get a chance to eat something.” Slink sighed. “You stay here, I’ll be back lickety-split.”
Slink bounded out through the gaping hole in the wall of the building, his wounds hardly impacting his dexterity. Pug was left with little else to do but eat his own food in silence, keeping a concerned eye on Tourmaline as he forced down what he could before packing up their things. He’d have to figure out some sort of treatment for her soon, or else he’d have to start making broths to try and feed her. Worry gnawed at him with no distractions to keep him otherwise occupied, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face, half hoping she would grumpily slap at his hand for disturbing her slumber.
Thankfully the marten returned surprisingly quickly, no evidence of his recent meal aside from the vague scent of blood. His meal was evidently very satisfying, for he suffered through the laborious process of getting the gnome onto his back and getting her strapped in. Pug had the marten take an experimental lap around the building to verify everything was secure, adjusting a few of the ropes and straps for Slink’s comfort. The marten seemed to be confident he could go the distance, though neither of them were sure what distance would be precisely, so they set off and left the keep behind them.
“I suppose we should backtrack to the gnome burrow. What do you think?” As much as it stuck in his craw to go back to them, his friend’s life was in the balance here. He began to brace himself for the welcome he’d receive after what he’d let happen to Lina, but Slink surprised him.
“I know of a village that’s pretty close to here. One with a healer.” Slink’s voice trailed off nervously.
“And what’s the matter with it, Slink? If it has someone who could use healing magic then that’s Lina’s best bet.” As much as he wanted to push for them to depart immediately, Slink wouldn’t show so much trepidation if there weren’t real concerns.
“It’s in the Owl King’s territory. As a matter of fact, it’s right next to his roost.” Slink looked away with the marten equivalent of a scowl.
“Wait, what? How is the heart of his domain so close?” Pug asked incredulously. He hadn’t noticed them crossing into Owl territory, but then it didn’t really matter to him. Not like it did to Slink.
“We’ve been in Owl territory for a while, honestly. I thought it would be fine if we were just skirting by and traveling during the day.”
This new information brought Pug to a stop as his mind whirred, considering the implications. Owls and martens were natural enemies, and even the intelligence of the variants found in the Wylde did little to assuage the hate and fear. They were supposedly at peace for the moment, but Slink wasn’t supposed to be in their territory. No one would bat an eye if a trespassing marten were slaughtered here, in fact many of the Don’s martens would say anyone foolish enough to cross into Owl lands deserved it. Pug wanted to warn Slink away, but the marten seemed to know what he was thinking and preempted him.
“Stop right there Pug. It wouldn’t be good of me to leave a friend in a bind and if I did go, what would you do with Lina?” Slink asked calmly. “Poor girl needs to get to a healer soon.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t be able to carry her far.” Pug admitted. “As soon as we get her to this village though, I want you to get out of here. Capiche?”
“Capiche.” Slink chuckled, disregarding Pug’s stern tone as well as the stance he took with his hands on his hips, the fairy trying to muster up some sort of authority.
The conversation died then, but not in a way that was uncomfortable or awkward. They fell into the same pattern as they had the day before, Pug ranging out and scouting the trail ahead and guiding the marten past any obstacles or dangers. The only difference this time was Pug had to do his best to follow someone from in front, which was more difficult than it sounded. He did his best to alleviate the issue by making sure to ask Slink for landmarks or directions, only to be frustrated by the fact the marten operated on an instinctual level.
Despite that they still made good time, Slink’s shoulder evidently healed enough to support Lina’s weight at least a little better than before. They were both still worn, and had to be careful not to over-exert themselves as they moved. Pug found himself walking alongside Slink fairly often, worrying over Lina whenever he could. He tutted and fluttered about, dabbing away sweat until Slink would snap at him. Then he’d go back to scouting, only to begin the cycle again when he wearied too much to fly.
It was to both of their relief, though perhaps more to Slink’s, who was at his wit’s end with Pug’s fussing, when they stumbled across the village Slink had mentioned right around noon. Despite being in the air at the time Pug failed to see the village, twitching in surprise as Slink called out to him. Pug looked about, seeing nothing. They had just breached into the space below the outstretched arms of a massive oak tree. It’s great boughs and wide leaves allowed enough sunlight through to see, though the area was dim like it was perpetually under the approach of a storm. In such a dark, damp environment, littered as it was with leaf litter and detritus, an abundance of mushrooms grew. They flourished in the shade of the tree, clustered between massive roots in dense packs.
The majority of the mushrooms were of the iconic cap-and-stem variety, though each of them grew far larger than Pug was accustomed to. Even stranger, they were all vividly coloured in such a manner as to be strikingly vibrant even in the shadow of the oak. The caps ran the gamut of colors, across the entire spectrum, perched atop milky white stalks stubbornly holding their garish hats to the ground. In any other creature such vibrant colourings would mark them as poisonous, and Pug had no reason to suspect these mushrooms were any different. It was only then Pug saw small forms scurried to and fro, between the thickly set stalks and underneath the riotous colors of the caps. Indeed, the mushrooms were actually arranged in a pattern, the very largest amongst them set in the middle, and the rest radiating out in a spoked circle from it.
Before his very eyes Pug watched an individual walk right up to a mushroom and pull it open, revealing a door set into its flesh. The creature strode inside of what Pug now realized was not just a fungus but perhaps a home or business. Pug dropped lower to get a better look at the hustle and bustle of this strange little village, unfortunately catching the attention of the guards. Immediately they began to point to the outer edge of the village, where the two roots framed it opened wide and burrowed more deeply into the ground. They made gestures Pug was accustomed to, those landbound beings everywhere made when they wanted you to get down on their level. Pug floated away from the village and to its edge, landing in front of a rather surly looking guardsman.
“Announce yourself and your purpose here.” The guard said, his voice like the hollow whisper of wind through trees.
Pug normally would have respected the guard for getting straight to the point, but he found himself somewhat distracted by the creature’s visage. Its body was made of pale yellow fibrous strands interwoven and bundled together in the rough approximation of a bipedal form, though it had no discernable features. No nose, mouth, or eyes were set in its ‘face’, the being’s surface instead a porous mess of gaping holes where the gaps between each strand of material made itself evident. The thing looked like a straw doll, or like it was made of wicker, but its material was far more flexible and robust than either. This was made evident as it brandished a spear at Pug threateningly.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but my friend got hurt by goblins during our travels. I was told there was a healer here, and I was hoping we could seek aid here.”
“You want me to not only let strangers into our village, but let them seek our shaman?” The myconid, for Pug was relatively certain that’s what this being was, scoffed. “And where is your friend? I see no one with you.”
Pug bit his tongue, the guard’s mule-headed nature frustrating the fairy. Perhaps this one was descended from something particularly toxic, as his personality suggested. He forced himself to take a breath, advocating patience as he continued to converse with the guard.
“My other friend is carrying her here now. I was scouting ahead, and certainly couldn’t carry her while flying.” Pug gestured behind himself to where he assumed Slink would be in a few moments.
They myconid twitched, a reedy whistling seeming to signal it inhaling in preparation of some sort of snarky comment when it seemed to notice something over Pug’s shoulder. Pug looked and saw Slink, right in the nick of time, trotting up. The marten was clearly eager to be beneath the cover of the mushroom canopy.
“Hey Ellie.” Slink’s tone was chipper on the surface, underlied with iron. “Do you mind if we get past you? Our friend here needs some help.”
“Slink. This is the last place you should be, ermine.” The mushroom-thing said, though Pug noticed it withdrew the spear it had been menacing him with. He struggled to hold back a chuckle as yet another person misidentified Slink, earning himself a glare from the other two members of the conversation as muffled noises of amusement slipped past the hand he pressed over his mouth to stifle them.
“I’m a marten, and you know that.” Slink huffed.
“I’ll have to speak to the mayor about this. Wait here, and make sure you stay out of sight.” Ellie nodded towards the sky, indicating exactly what he wanted Slink to be wary of.
Slink sat primly, hardly batting an eye under the withering scrutiny of the guard. Pug was shocked as the myconid simply shuffled away, clearly trusting them to remain where they were. Fairies didn’t take guarding their village seriously either, but at least theirs was in the air above the forest floor. What made the myconid so confident he left the two of them here with no supervision? Perhaps Slink was simply well known and trusted?
“Well come on then, we don’t have time to wait for this bureaucratic hullabaloo.” Slink hopped to his feet and trotted into the village, catching Pug entirely off guard.
As he scurried after the marten, he came to believe Slink was simply known here. He knew his way through the village, sliding sinuously between people, stalls, and buildings with purpose, all the while responding to various greetings and well wishes from myconids who clearly knew the marten. The myconids were a diverse species, each one of them different from each other. They reflected the entire variety of mushrooms the fungus kingdom could encompass, and within the border of their village few of them made any attempt to look even remotely humanoid. Pug waved and nodded at them as he passed, but couldn’t help but feel as though they stared after him awkwardly, as though affronted by this stranger in their midst. He was reasonably grateful when Slink finally slid to a stop in front of a mushroom near the center of the city, therefore making it one of the largest in the village. This particular specimen seemed to be larger than Orchid’s mansion, though apparently its size did little to intimidate Slink who simply pushed open the door set into the flesh of the building with his snout.
“Inky are you in?” Slink cried into the open doorway.
Pug could hear someone yelp in surprise, and the clatter of knocked over items and faint cursing sounded off. The cursing gradually drifted closer until a wispy, ragged looking myconid stood in the doorway. While their facsimile of a face did little to convey emotion, myconids seemed to have mastered body language for the new arrival looked incredibly surprised to see Slink in its doorway. This myconid had taken on a humanoid form, something Pug was beginning to think they did when they worked in roles where they were expected to deal with non-myconids. Inky looked all the world like the classical image of a witch, a wide brimmed hat shadowing what would be her face. Curtains of thin flesh material mimicked hair, which fell to her hips. Thicker sheets of mushroom flesh draped around her to make a dress-like formation. Its hem hung a hands-breadth from the ground, and the off-white color of the flesh made Pug think of an old wedding dress. Everywhere the panels of meaty white material came to an end it darkened, rapidly deepening into a pitch black condensed on these edges and seemed to drip away like… well, like ink, Pug supposed.
“Slinky, wha-” Inky began before cutting themself off when they saw Lina on Slink’s back.
“Oh my! You there, help me get her down!” Inky snapped, a sharp gesture indicating she meant for Pug to assist her.
He leapt to immediately, untying the knots kept Tourmaline secured and lowering her gently into Inky’s waiting arms. He took the gnome’s legs, working together with the myconid to haul her inside through the yawning doorway. Inside the mushroom was a cavernous hall, each side flanked with rows of small cots with a thin sheet reminiscent of a mushroom’s gills separating each of them and giving the occupant therein privacy. Pug could see a few shadowed silhouettes but little more, though most of the cots Pug saw were empty. They took Lina to the nearest cot, for even with the two of them she was rather heavy, and laid her atop it. Inky immediately began to look over her head wound.
“What is she?” The mushroom snapped.
“A gnome!” Pug replied almost without meaning to. He had to wonder if all myconids were so straightforward and direct, or just the ones he’d had the pleasure of meeting today.
“Gnome. Good, I’ve worked with gnomes before. Let’s see…” Inky muttered to themself, lost in thought. Their pale fleshy face remained placid and serene, but their body bent under the weight of their stress as they considered solutions. Then the myconid seemed to remember Pug existed and waved him away.
“Go outside. I don’t need you looming over me while I do my job. Go make sure the marten isn’t making any trouble.”
Pug hesitated, reluctant to leave Lina alone with the strange msuhroom. He wanted some sort of assurance she would be alright, but the myconid healer was already moving on, closing the membrane curtain surrounding Tourmaline’s cot with a snap. Pug sputtered, wishing there was something more he could do for her while knowing all the while there was not. He was at least wise enough to know interrupting a doctor at work was a terrible idea, and so found himself doing as he was told. He strode outside to check on Slink, but the marten was nowhere to be found.
Pug peered around in the gloom, the shadow of the oak tree redoubled by the thick fungal ceiling developed where the caps almost touched each other. Once his eyes adjusted he saw Slink off in the distance, by the largest mushroom sat in the very center of the village, which dwarfed even Inky’s medicine hall. The marten was deep in conversation with a familiar face, Ellie, and another myconid who was wearing what Pug could have sworn was a three piece suit.
Pug debated going to his friend’s aid, but the conversation looked rather benign and he could not help but worry his own presence would disrupt . Since Slink was going to be busy for the foreseeable future, Pug sat down on the stoop in front of the door to Inky’s hall, slumping back. A deep seated weariness, confusion, frustration, and worry warred for attention in his mind, and he struggled to put his thoughts in order. Bending forward, he crossed his arms over his knees and laid his forehead on them, closing his eyes.
Though he only meant to rest for a moment and get his thoughts in order, he immediately drifted off into sleep. Having failed to get his thoughts and feelings in order, the sleep he found himself in was fretful and tense, a heavy weight draped across his mind as the vistas of color splotched darkness opened up into troubled dreams. Slowly form took shape, rough hewn walls and muddy floors, the air thick with humidity and the rank stench of sweat and filth.
Distant crying could be heard, as well as yelps of pain. Pug tried to crawl through the mud, knowing he had to leave this place, but the thin slurry was slick and the floor of the room seemed to tilt to work against them so he was always crawling uphill no matter which way he moved. After ages of struggling he managed to grasp at a doorway, the floor behind him nearly ninety degrees in an effort to stymie his progress. Beyond the doorway tightly packed stone corridors wept blood from the mortar between stones, flooding the halls. The blood grew inches deep rapidly, and soon he would drown. He sloshed onward, navigating blind through snaking tunnels echoed distant screams, echoed his own screams until he could no longer tell where each piercing wail of despair had come from.
He threw open door after door, their rough wooden bulk swelling with the thick moisture of the blood soaking them. They caught on door frames and the thick mud coating the floor, working with the weight of the blood, which was nearly hip deep now, to keep them closed. Each room he opened held twisted and ruined corpsed, menacing visages torn and cracked open by the long fall taken onto unyielding stone. They would bob as they floated in the fluid pouring in, twisting and turning until the redcap’s twisted face came to resemble faces much more familiar and friendly. Had he killed them just as surely as he killed his enemies? Their exposure to him simply a poison killed slowly rather than the quick mercy of the blade? Jet, Slink, Lina, the scene repeated itself behind every door he opened until at last he came to the final door set at the end of the hall.
He all but swam to the door, the blood up to his shoulders. Pug had to brace his leg against the doorframe to pull it open enough for him to see inside. An immense pressure behind the door forced it open against the weight of the blood, knocking him back. A tide of pale flesh cloaked in dirty brown wings poured forth in a torrent, nearly burying him. Pug backed away, but out of the tide of wings and body parts a bone white hand shot forth. The blood around him was like tar and Pug could do nothing to evade the hand as it reached for him. The tip of its fever reached his forehead as the echoing screams became crying and laughing, and it touched him.
…and it was…
…so cold…
…hoarfrost formed in his mind…
…the blood on his face thickened into a half frozen slurry as the hand caressed his face and-
“Pug!”
Slink’s wet nose was pressed against his forehead, its chill touch startling him awake. Pug twisted away, falling off the stoop in his hurry to flee the cold sensation. His eyes were drawn wide and his heart was pounding. His mouth was dry, but his throat was so tight it felt like it was swollen shut. He swallowed, loosening the know in his throat achingly slowly.
“You okay?” Slink asked, concern clouding his expression.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, just a bad dream is all.” Pug’s words were shaky and Slink eyed him skeptically, but the marten didn’t push the issue further.
“If you say so. Anyways, I spoke to Inky a little bit ago. She’s a good dame, whip-smart, and she said Lina was going to be alright.”
“Really? Where is she, can we see her?” Pug shot upright in excitement and tripped over his own feet, numb as they were from his brief nap on the steps outside Inky’s hall. Slink caught the falling fairy gently with his snout and pushed him back into a seated position.
“Slow down a second, bo. Inky says she needs to be under observation for a little longer to make sure nothing’s wrong with her head. She’ll be snoozing for a few more days yet.
“Days?” Pug whispered. Did they have days? They had to be at Hummingbird Hearth soon, and it was still a distance off.
“Hey, pay attention chief. I need you to keep up cuz I have to get out of here. Night’s coming fast and the last thing I want is to be right underneath the Owl King’s roost when they start their hunt.
Slink nodded at the massive oak tree the village was built in the shelter of. Pug gave him a surprised glance before worriedly staring into the branches above. He couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there, especially when it came to owls. Who knew what eyes were watching, and what they saw.
“The Owl King lives in this tree? You have to get out of here, now!” Pug whispered harshly, prompting Slink to roll his eyes.
“I know I do, so listen up! The mayor is going to let you crash in his place until Lina’s all better okay? He’ll probably have you do some odd jobs around the village, but you’ll be taken care of while she’s here.” Slink gestured again with his head, this time at the grand mushroom in the center of the village where he’d been speaking with Ellie and the other myconid before Pug had fallen asleep. “
“What about the cost of Lina’s care?” Worry clawed at his heart as yet another issue laid itself at Pug’s feet, though thankfully it was quickly resolved.
“These guys owe me a favor or two, so don’t worry about any of that. Just do me a favor and don’t cause them any trouble.” Slink reassured him.
“Right, help with chores, keep my head down.That’s doable.” Pug grinned.
“Excellent. I gotta hightail it outta here. Stay out of trouble and hopefully I’ll be seein’ you around Pug.” Slink made to leave, but found himself held in place as Pug’s hands gripped his coat.
“Wait, aren’t you going to meet up with us after this?” Pug choked out.
“No, I don’t think so, Pug.” Slink said gently, not quite meeting his eyes. “I got some news from the mayor that I’ve got to get back to the Don. I’m sorry, but this is as far as I go.”
“Right, well. Thank you for everything up to now Slink. Take care.” Pug tried and failed to hide his sorrow, his voice choking as his throat tightened painfully.
The marten was already moving though, not looking back as he sped away. Clearly he wanted to be far from the owls come sundown, and Pug couldn’t blame him for . Unfortunately it seemed to Pug without Slink, they had just lost any chance of getting to Hummingbird Hearth in time. Pug dropped his head into his hands, considering his options. He could go now on his own, and with his wings he could probably make it in time. He’d travel lightly and rest seldomly, but it was doable. However, could he leave his friend here, in a village full of strangers? If something happened to her now he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself.
Pug ground his palms into his eyes as tears of frustration tried to make themselves gnome, smearing his hands wet with moisture. It wasn’t long before the tears flowed enough to run out of his hands and down his arms. His only solace in the moment was that myconids couldn’t cry, so he had nothing to be embarrassed about as he cried in front of passersby.
Yeah, solace. He thought with grim humor did little to light his heart.
