Chapter 27: Stonetown is a Stupid Name

Chapter 27: Stonetown is a Stupid Name

 

I stared at Mom.

 

She stared back.

 

I looked down at the table picked clean of any and all food. It had been truly tasty food, with a lingering aroma even now, but I was, for the first time in a long time, stuffed. However,  even that didn’t detract from my sheer, unyielding, confusion.

 

I looked over at the cat folk woman cleaning the pot of bouillabaisse we’d finished off. She waved.

 

I looked back to Mom, and spoke in clear Illia. “They named this village,” I swallowed the rising incredulity down. “Stonetown.”

 

“Yup,” Mom said, checking her nails.

 

“For the nearby quarry you crossed to get here,” I didn’t ask a question. I merely stated a fact.

 

“Yes,” Mom replied. She saw a bit of fur on her hand out of place and gave it a lick before smoothing it out with the tip of a claw.

 

“But the ‘town’s’ mostly made of wood.”
 

“Yes,” Mom said.
 

“And they don’t use the quarry because it’s flooded.”

 

“Yuppers,” Mom said with a small, childish lilt to her tone.

 

“Also, it’s too small to be a town. It’s more a village.”

 

“Indeed,” Mom nodded.

 

“Yet they still use ‘stone’ and ‘town’ in the name.”

 

“Yes,” Mom smirked.

 

…

 

“That’s stupid.” I couldn’t put my words any simpler if I tried. In fact, I was still struggling with this town’s name and that it was real.

 

Mom nodded. “Town names often are. I once passed through a village called ‘Someplace’ that neighbored another town called “Somewhere”.”

 

I stared. Opened my mouth. Found no words to respond.

 

…

 

I was already disappointed by civilization.

 

“To be fair, it’s an old name. They resettled it, according to Sasha here,” Eliza said.

 

Said cat woman, Sasha, perked up at mention and said something I didn’t catch. Mom laughed and said another thing I didn’t catch.

 

I fumed. I hated being out of the loop!

 

Around this time, a scent hit me. It wasn’t soup.

 

It felt oddly root-like but almost charged in a weird way. I blinked, looked around, and spotted a bird at the window.

 

I couldn’t exactly tell given the glass was cloudy, but it was clearly perched on the outer edge and pecking. It looked a bit like a pigeon?

 

I don’t think I’d seen a pigeon in this life, alive or in the books Mom managed to scavenge. I don’t think my first life’s memories counted, either. I was curious if feeding them would be fun like all those people in parks did.

 

Sasha’s ears perked up as soon pecking resonated in the room. She did nothing. Instead, she sipped her tea.

 

I looked at Mom. She shrugged and raised her cup to lips.

 

“Um. Are you going to open the window?” I ventured, more out of a lack of anything else to say.

 

“The little [bastaird] can wait until I’m done with my tea,” Sasha said. I gasped. Mom snorted tea out of her nose.

 

Mom coughed. “Sasha, you can’t, my daughter, she is —” My mom began.

 

Sasha shrugged and downed her tea. Said something, I didn’t catch, but she moved to undue the latch.

 

The thing had clearly waited for this moment as it promptly leaped, then glided in…

 

I blinked.

 

That wasn’t a pigeon.

 

It had iridescent wings and a head like a pigeon. Mostly. It had a single, brightly colored orange feather sticking on top of its head that made it look like a doofus. But its body sure as heck wasn’t a pigeon. Or any bird’s.

 

The bottom half was a rat.

 

I blinked again, wondering if I was seeing things. It cooed excitedly as it glided about the room, pivoting to land on a corner table. The table was covered with a white cloth with dark red stains on it while a metal contraption with a funnel-like top and a handle jutted above. The thing strutted by, bobbing its head and cooing excitedly again. It had a twig in its mouth.

 

“Mama? What is that?” I asked. 

 

Mom blinked. “Oh, right, you’ve never seen one,” she said, as if even surprised by the fact she had to explain it. I didn’t think my question was that stupid, was it? “We didn’t have those back on the island. That, Kitten, is a pidgrat. People sometimes keep them as pets but mostly use them for eggs and meat. Tasty enough, little bit like sea bird but earthier taste. Had one as a little kitten myself growing up,” Mom said.

 

“Okay,” I said, for lack of anything else to say, staring. It looked so proud as it turned and scrutinized the spot it’d found in the contraption, before looking back to us.

 

“Is,” I began, staring. The pidgrat, turned to me inquisitively. It eyed me up and down before it placed the twig down in the metal device I now incredulously recognized. “Is it trying to build a nest in a sausage grinder?

 

 

Mom faceclawed. The pidgrat jumped and took off for the window.

 

Sasha grabbed it out of the air by the neck. She hadn’t stood up. It cooed affectionately and rubbed against her claws as much as it could.

 

“Yes,” Sasha said. “The little [bastaird] has no survival [greddf[.”

 

I frowned at her unknown word but nodded. Instinct? I think that’s what it was, from context.

 

She then spoke again, too fast for me to keep up, but I got the gist.

 

“First he eats all my [gwraidd lleuad], somehow doesn’t die, and then he wants to make his nest in my [selsig malu].”

 

Despite the iron grip, she brought a claw tip to its feathers in a stroke.

 

“Um. I don’t know what [selsig malu] is, but if it’s valuable, why didn’t she just eat him?” I asked, again in Illia to Mom. Sasha’s ears twitched in my direction at my words.

 

I was rather curious what a pidgrat tasted like now. Not at the moment, given I still felt stuffed from all the delicious soup, but like, later.

 

Mom got an odd look as she glanced away. “You were very sick, Gwen,” Mom said slowly. “Because of what the pidgrat ate, the moon root, Sasha was able to make a medicine from its blood. It helped you get better.”

 

I blinked. I looked at Sasha, who’d been listening to Mom, but I’m not sure how much she got. I then looked at the pidgrat and…

 

That saved me? I knew I was sick, but the thing looked so goofy it felt hard to take serious even as it cooed happily in Sasha’s hand. Speaking of, she finally let the pidgrat go. It jumped off her hand and, with a surprising grace, took off outside. “I’m going to eat him [ryw ddydd], and it will be one of the best meals of my life,” Sasha said. “Until then.”

 

She pivoted to look at us, and me in particular. “Enjoy your food?”

 

I felt taken aback at the sudden change and focus but slowly nodded.

 

“Feeling sleepy, Kitten? You ate a lot.”

 

I snapped to Mom. “No!” I said and scrambled to my paws. “I wanna look around!”

 

I felt a teensy bit sleepy, but…

 

This was the first time I was in someone else’s house.  Scratch that, there was a town nearby. Or a village. A stupidly named village if that was the case, but still! I wanted to see things!

 

Mom laughed. “Kitten, you just got better. We’ll take it slow, okay?”

 

I stared at Mom, processed her words, and was slammed upside the face with a tungsten baseball bat shaped reminder that I’d nearly died. I’d been so sick and it hurt soo smuch and I remember seeing blood on my fur after coughing and oh godsIalmostdiedagainwhydoesthiskeephappeningand—

 

…

 

I chose to deal with that by not dealing with it.

 

“Can I go outside?” I asked Mom.

 

“Sure thing.” Mom stood up and held out her claw. I took it and felt a little reassurance at her warmth. Soothed a little of the worry away.

 

“You two go ahead, I will clean up here. Just don’t go beyond the [lili'r nos].” Sasha said, waving us off. Mom nodded at her as she grabbed my claw and guided me from the table.

 

I wondered how she and Mom seemed to know each other. They seemed, well, friendly. I know it’d been a few days, but were they already on good terms? Did Mom just show up with me? Mom trusted her enough to eat the same food, at least, and hadn’t been too worried about finding me in the same room as her.

 

We stepped out and I came to a complete, frozen stop.

 

Sasha’s cottage was a cozy building in the middle of a large glade surrounded by conifers and great pines. There were a few things I didn’t see as too out of the ordinary, like a small pond with some stone steppingstones leading up to it, or an animal pen that and small shack attached to it, albeit they seem unused. Other things simply seemed practical, like a small garden filled with herbs, or even well made from neat bricks to draw water from.

 

But this was all the backdrop. The star that stole my breath away were the flowers. Thousands of them.

 

“Pretty,” I breathed, staring. I sniffed the air and promptly felt overwhelmed as the air was saturated in sweet, floral scents.

 

In every single space not occupied by the structures or a walking path, vibrancy bloomed. I saw proud and perky white, pink, and yellow daisies growing everywhere. Petunias grew in small groups, breaching the soul with dark pinks and reds, especially along the pond’s edge. Along poles, in trees, and more around the clearing’s edge trailed flowering vines, each vine dotted with hundreds of small wisteria flowers flourishing in the glade. These are just the flowers I recognized. I saw bell like white and yellow flowers, I saw a garden bed with starry flowers less than five cm off the edge and so tiny but looked so lovely I just wanted to put my face in them and inhale.  I saw golden flowers standing individually tall and proud everywhere, the sunlight seeming to reflect off their petals in a mesmerizing way. Even the pond had what looked like lilypads on it. About the only thing I didn’t see were roses.

 

This wasn’t even to speak of the palpably thick, sweet, floral scent that pervaded the air so densely I felt as if I could scoop it out with my bare claws. It all combined like a proverbial brick to my senses and my brain, but in a good way.

 

“I was taken aback when I first noticed too, Kitten.” Mom tussled my hair, making my perked ears twitch. “Sasha maintains the flowers here as part of her job as an herbalist for a nearby village. A lot of them have some medical value, but between you and me, I think she does it mostly because she likes pretty things,” she whispered the last part conspiratorially.

 

I nodded; eyes focused on all the flowers. Then a thought occurred to me. “But, Mama, I thought it was too cold this time of year? How?” I asked, gesturing.

 

Mom stretched, tail flicking behind her. I only now realized she wasn’t wearing the old uniform she usually did back on the island. She had some sort of knee-length dark greenish dress on, similar to the one Sasha had worn.

 

For a brief moment, the flowers faded as that fact was surreal to me. I don’t think I’d ever seen her in a dress, but she wore it so, utterly casually.

 

I blinked as I realized I was wearing a dress casually. I mean, I’d noticed it earlier when I got out of bed, but only processed this was the first one in my life I’d worn.

 

“I wondered that too. Spring’s coming but felt a bit early. Sasha, though, said she has a bit of a magic touch with plants and was able to help them wake up early,” Mom said. I thought about that and felt like Mom wasn’t saying everything. Spring brought flowers and all, but this was a lot. I wasn’t complaining, but still!

 

 “Come on, I feel like going for a run.” Mom hopped in place before she leaned down to me at eye level, claw on her knees. “Boop,” she said, poking my nose. “Catch me if you can!” with that, she took off at a jog.

 

I knew she was playing me, that there was no way I could catch her if she genuinely tried. Yet I couldn’t resist the chance to punish her audacity, so I sprang after her with a leap that brought me closer to her. She merely laughed and hopped to the side, and with that I chased after her after into the countless flowers.

 

~~~

I…

 

I felt happy. I panted after our play, sitting on a fallen, mossy log by the pond with Mom. I’d leaned into her and she had an arm around me. She wasn’t even winded, but she was cheating with those long legs. Still, I appreciated her warmth as a breeze blew through the glade, gently swaying the many flowers.

 

We hadn’t gone far, just barely poking into the trees outside the glade, but even there we found more flowers in the shade of the trees. Was Sasha some fairy princess to live like this? It felt that way.

 

Yet something felt off…

 

I gasped and sat forward. “Where’s Sandy!?” I looked around as if I’d find her hiding in the flowers and promptly felt silly given I knew she was in the room. But my main concern wasn’t her location. “Is she okay?”

 

Mom frowned. “It’s,” she began, and glanced around. “Walk with me a bit.”

 

She pulled me up and while I still felt a little bit out of breath, I was able to pad after her easily enough over the rich, grassy soil.

 

We walked for a bit, well into the trees and where the flowers had finally become a bit more sparse, looking less vibrant and more like, well, wildflowers in the woods.

 

Mom sat on an old stump. “Sandy has, well, shut — er, gone to sleep, for the time being.”

 

“Why?” I asked with a head tilt.

 

“A few reasons. The trip here saw the ambient mana — wait, you remember that, right??” she asked. I nodded. “The ambient mana has been really low. She was eating into her batteries.  So, she shut down after a certain point and, well,” Mom sighed with a sad shrug.

 

“I haven’t been able to wake her up since. I can tell you she’s fine, but she’s not responding at all. For now, please don’t mention her to Sasha. I think I trust her, she saved you, my little miracle,” Mom reached over to stroke my hair. “I don’t think I can ever repay her for that, but I don’t know how she’d respond to a spirit core, so I haven’t brought it up. I don’t know how the locals would, either.”

 

I processed Mom’s words slowly, turning them up and over in my head for a bit trying to piece what more she wasn’t saying because I was young. But, I didn’t think there was much she was hiding right now, but something was definitely up with Sasha, beyond the obvious magic scent, but I assumed Mom had noticed that already. “Okay. I understand,” I said, taking Mom’s hand.

 

She smiled down at me, the tips of her fangs showing. “Sandy will be fine, I think. Her core isn’t cracked, so I’m sure it’s just some deeper level diagnostic or something,” Mom said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “I think we have enough excitement here for one day, but Sasha offered to take us on a tour of the nearby village, Stonetown, for a tour when you woke up and were feeling better. Feeling up for that tomorrow, Kitten?”

 

I nodded my head as fast as I could and felt slightly dizzy. Mom laughed. But I had to add one final comment. “Stonetown’s still a stupid name.”

 

Mom didn’t laugh so much as giggle. “That it is, Kitten, that it is.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 27 Author’s Note

 

Okay, I know I’ve said it before, but good fucking lord this chapter fought me. It didn’t help I was writing this at the height of the semester last year, had to do a fair bit of world building, and was dealing with issues with my job, motivation, depression, and more. But those were the contributing factors.

 

I think I was paralyzed with indecision. This entire story has been an experiment in smaller scale. Write about their lives on an island. Get to mainland, well, now survival, escape, travel with a refugee group, etc. Linear paths even with a lot of stuff to explore. But here I was just waylaid by all the possibilities at once, and I won’t lie, I think I shut down for a bit.

 

But I got this out. Hopefully Sasha’s proving to be an interesting side character thus far, plus I got to use the Pidgrat art I commissioned from Gab0o0 way back in scene, even.

Check it out at this post here: https://bsky.app/profile/hiddenmaster.bsky.social/post/3mffrnp4si22o 

Next chapter we see the town!

 

Fun fact, we are nearing the end of arc two. We got a few chapters yet including an interlude, but we are close, and with that, I think I will have a time skip and take a look at Gwen’s teenage years in her grand journey.  So if you wanna check the climax of the arc, do check it out on my Patreon :3.

 

One final note. I’ve mentioned it before, but I was let go by my university. Still sad about that, but I am making a go at actually trying to live doing what I love—and that is writing. So any support is appreciated, and again, I take commissions, so if anyone is interested, let me know and we’ll talk details and hey, I know an entire community of writers. If I can’t do it, I’m sure I could direct you to someone who totally could write the fic of your dreams.

 

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