Ida should’ve told me she was concerned about me looking different from everyone else, and I would’ve addressed that right away.
“Mreeeowww!”
My head turned towards the sound echoing within the cavern. Nurghle was trying to get into Theo’s bag, protesting loudly at the difficulty posed by its buckles.
“Nurghle!” I hissed. My eyes darted to Theo, who stirred ever so slightly.
Please stay asleep. Please stay asleep. Please stay asleep.
I hurried to the bag and began fumbling with its straps, hoping to quiet the noisy little guy. His cries of woe turned into eager chirps.Better. Not great. But better. Thankfully the jerky satchel from the night before was on top. I didn’t want to dig through the assortment of heavy tools this man had brought.
Tools to build me a cabin. I didn’t know how to process that level of generosity.
The blade of a hefty axe scraped my wrist as I withdrew my hand from the bag. I startled at the sharpness and quickly inspected the damage. Just a tiny scratch. Barely bleeding, really. Thank god I’d been the one to brush it, instead of Nurghle.
I tossed a strip of meat to my demanding and noisy companion.
Grateful Theo didn’t wake, I slipped into my dress for the day. My bodice was a little damp still, but not bad.
I couldn’t resist staring at the sleeping giant as I fumbled with the laces of my leather bodice. Ida had given me the run-down of Trebianna’s seven humanoid species, but she was the only person I’d actuallyseenup until now. The other six options might as well have been fiction.
Theo wasmassive. So massive that I might’ve been distracted from the extra set of limbs at first, had they not been carrying me. The lower set of arms that branched out from hisback hugged around his waist, while the others formed a pillow under his head. Two small, dark horns sat above his eyebrows. Was this his “feral” form? Ida said black markings were a staple of that for Quadmos, but otherwise everything seemed “normal”.
Could this man get even more monstrous?
Quadmos qualities aside, Theo’s body told a story. A rough one. His tattoos masked a collection of scars. Thin white lines. Thick pink gashes. Burns. A raised pale slice above his ear where his buzzed brown hair no longer grew. The body art was a distraction, and the closer I looked, the more injuries showed themselves. Was this a normal amount of scarring for someone who took on the wilderness? I’d spent most of my life in a city, so I wouldn’t know… but it seemed likea lotfor the average hiker.
I didn’t realize how hard I was squinting—focusing on every detail of his body to unravel the mystery—until Nurghle’s antics started back up. I heard rustling and turned my head to find his furry butt hanging out of Theo’s bag.
“Shit.” He was going to cut himself on one of the many blades I’d dodged.
I hurried over, grabbing him by the haunches and yanking him from the bag.Please don’t be hurt.He hissed in protest, eager to retrieve more treats. In the struggle, the bag toppled over and thick metal tools clanked to the rocky dirt ground.
Theo startled awake, jolting upright. I apologetically held a frustrated Nurghle and grimaced, my eyes darting to the spilled bag contents.
“It wasn’t me!” I cringed. “It was Nurghle.”
He rubbed his head, eyes blinking groggily.
“He wanted more of that jerky you fed him last night.”
Four hefty arms stretched in different directions, large joints popped loudly. Without a word, he got to his feet, eyeing the extra blanket I’d laid over him when it hit the ground. He bent at the waist to pick it up and tossed it back onto the fur that I used as bedding.
“If it’s hungry it can eat as much as it needs to.” Theo’s gravelly morning voice was a low rumble as he grabbed the satchel and pulled out another scrap. Nurghle wiggled in my arms and I let him down to feast.
“You didn’t pack much food,” I reflected, doubtful this man wanted to survive on only berries if he gave into Nurghle’s consistent demands. The fruit got tiresome, even if theywereadequately nutritious according to my special book “TheDemigoddess Bible: Self-Destructing Edition”. Or whatever it was called. I couldn’t read the language on the cover.
“I’ll get more soon.” He grabbed the handle of the axe and pulled it from the bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.
I followed as he stepped out into the field. The morning mist was starting to clear, but it was stillsoearly. Way too early to be toting a fucking axe around. He sounded groggy, the base of his voice so deep I felt it in my bones.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trotting after him.
“Firewood,” he yawned.
Oh… well that kind of makes me feel bad. He just woke up!He’d have plenty of time to be productive without getting straight to work. Trebianna days weren’t short; they were forty fucking hours long.
“You really don’t have to start right away,” I objected.
