Underneath the burning summer sun, your scythe decapitates yet another bushel of wheat.

Ever since you’ve come down to the southern part of the continent, the plant has become something of an irritant to you. Being a wandering soul, you often trade your labor for food and shelter, and at this time of year all there is to do is cut wheat. Although you aren’t unused to farm work – hell, that’s filled your stomach for the six years you’ve been wandering – doing so much of the same thing has grown monotonous. You’d give up bread in protest if it wasn’t on so many inn menus, honestly!

But, at the end of the day, it’s irrelevant. Especially when you’ve harvested three men’s share of the golden strands. Your calloused hands no longer struggle to hold the scythe like they did when you first began your journey. Back then, you were but a local bureaucrat who had reached the end of his rope – and overnight, you decided that enough was enough. Without notifying a single friend or family member, you disappeared into the night, never to return.

Nobody ever came to look for you, and that suits you just fine. It also doesn’t help that you left from the Northern kingdom, and are now at the bottom of the whole fucking continent.

The one thing that’s weighed heavy on your heart is the lack of consistent communication. Over your vast experience with drifting, you’ve only settled down for a week at most, flitting between towns without a care in the world. Sure, you often revisit the places you’ve been, but it’s not enough to form a fire-forged bond – you are a worker, and they compensate you. Although plenty of pleasantries are exchanged and compliments are given to you, it all ends with that relationship. And for a long time, you were content being by yourself, treating familiar faces with respect and never traveling with another soul.

That all changed a month ago when a fennec beastkin snuck into your life.

It was when you had settled down at a bustling tavern that Omaru Polka had made herself known to you. She had taken the stage and sung loudly above the sea of bodies, captivating everyone in the room – including yourself. Through chance or otherwise, your eyes ended up meeting, and after her set she came to sit next to you with a curious glow in her eyes.

Just as you’re about to slip into your memories, you’re sharply brought into reality when an airy voice cuts through the sweltering field.

“Hey, Anon! You almost done over there?”

You gently guide the scythe to rest on your shoulder as you clock a young woman jogging towards you, her fluffy tail bouncing up and down all the while. When she skids to a stop in front of you, you have to turn the scythe’s wooden end away so that she doesn’t crack her forehead against it.

“Yep, done about as much as I can today without getting heatstroke. How about you, Polka?” You give the girl a tired smile, which she returns in kind.

It seems she’s in a similar state to you – her bangs are pasted against her forehead, and the shirt she bought a couple towns back is sticking far too close to her curves. You’d told her that a looser fitting one would be better for travel, but she’d only cackled and picked it up anyways. Regardless of her appearance, her smile is still as bright as ever, and she hurriedly shuffles to take one side of the cart.

“Done on my end too, so we can just double back and grab my cart. I still don’t get how you can load all of that in there…I got mine up to half and called it good!” She nudges you with her elbow, and you give her a chuckle as you lift up your side and begin to walk towards the village gate.

“Well, you’ve only been on the road for a month. I’ve got quite a few years on you, miss.” You reach over and pinch one of her fluffy ears, earning yourself a playful swat. “You’ll grow into it with time. If anything, I’m impressed at how quickly you’ve adapted. Considering your prior occupation.”

“Hey, singing in taverns isn’t easy work, you know! They expect you to advertise and set everything up all on your own, and that’s exhausting in a different way. Especially when that’s the only choice you have for a meal, you know?”

“Yeah, I can’t say I know how the life of a songstress goes.” You run your hand through your hair, trying to slick it back against your scalp so it’s out of your eyes. “Nor will I ever, but at least you have some more options now.”

“That’s true enough, but I have you to thank for that. I’m surprised you even let me come with you to begin with.” Her plum eyes look you up and down for a moment, before settling on locking them with yours. “You didn’t seem like the type to pick up strays, you know?”

“Don’t call yourself a stray, Polka. And back then…well, you caught me in a good mood.” You look away from her to hide your own embarrassment, because she knows damn well how that encounter went.

In short, after Polka came and plonked herself down next to you, you had begun to consume quite a bit of ale to guide you through that whole social encounter. You couldn’t help yourself after being spellbound by her singing! Unfortunately, one thing that you’ve always done when drunk is complain. At some point, you had started to bitch about how lonely you were, and how hard it was to go on such a long journey without anyone to talk to. Maybe part of you was hoping that it would cause her to leave, but you’ll never forget the way she looked in the bar’s amber light as you unloaded your worries onto her.

“We talked a long time, didn’t we?” Polka says casually, flicking one of her ears at you with a mischievous smirk. “They told us to either get a room or ‘get the fuck out’, no?”

“Yeah. And when I went to leave, you followed me.” You remark back to her, stretching your shirt out with a spare hand to allow airflow. “And you’ve been following me since.”

“Hey, I asked if I could, and you didn’t say no! Don’t talk like I’m a drooling puppy or something.” She reaches up to poke your shoulder, and you quickly counter by grabbing her hand to keep it still. Neither of you remark on how your fingers intertwine just after the motion.

“Well, it’s like I told you. The road’s a lot nicer when there’s two.” You mumble the latter sentence, but due to the warm smile she gives you, you know she picked up on it. Beastkin hearing is a whole different playing field from human ears.

“Mhm…I’d always wanted to hit the open road. That town was the only home I’d ever known, and after a while, I guess I got wanderlust.” She begins to ramble, almost as if she’s talking to herself. “When you play in the same bar over and over, you start to pick up on adventurers coming through and their stories. But I didn’t want to slay monsters or delve through dungeons. I just wanted to see the world, and I don’t think I could have done that on my own.”

“I think you could have.” You immediately pipe up, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. “You’re a strong girl. A lot stronger than I was at your age.”

“Man, you’re only four years older than me. Don’t be a drag.”

“A drag? Don’t pick a fight with me when we’re carrying this damned cart. God, it always feels like the road back’s twice as long.”

“Well, we still have one trip to the field left, so how about we hit the lake after? I think we both could do with a bath, and I need to wash this shirt before it stains.”

“Don’t be so casual about getting naked around me, Polka. You’ll make me blush.”

“Pffft, I’ve not seen you blush once since I’ve met you, ‘cept when you’re four mugs deep in ale.”

The two of you continue the banter all the way up to the village gate, where you begin the long process of unloading the cart so that the full-time farmhands can separate the wheat into their proper storage. As you do this, the pair of you fall into silence as you instead focus on the young men chattering between themselves – at one point, you would consider piping up to fill the void, but you’re comfortable around Omaru Polka.

Whether that’s because you’ve gotten to know her over the past month, or because she still has you spellbound to this day, you don’t know. All that you’re conscious of is when that cart is unloaded and she’s skipping back to the fields, the sun makes her plum eyes all the brighter when she turns and gives you her most radiant smile.

“Hurry up, Anon! The lake awaits!”

Yeah, you don’t regret letting her come on this journey.

Your life has become far richer with this woman in it, after all.

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Pub: 17 May 2024 01:51 UTC
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