“What do we do now?” Spring tried to play dumb, fearing she had revealed too much ability. Newly blighted could hardly process the world around them, while she rushed, making plans to infiltrate a human settlement, something a bloom-folk had never seen before.
“You need clothes,” Thorn pointed out, without a hint of interest in Jasmine Searing’s nude form. “Humans cover their bodies for decency, warmth, and protection. You will need to eat. I have a composter, a graft which helps digest human and animal food. You must keep it inside a separate sack within your pitcher, otherwise it will consume the blood you stored…”
Thorn explained all the peculiarities about imitating humans. However, Spring noticed a bunch of gaps in his instructions. He’s still only considering how to imitate humans from afar. From up close, I will need to pass a basic medical checkup. Fortunately, he gave me second-teeth, those consume a real tooth once a month, but at least they don’t wither if the teeth come from different people or animals.
I need something which resembles a tongue, but they have nothing of the sorts. I could conceal my mouth with a veil. Women do that often enough, and it shouldn’t draw too much attention, especially if I’m an engaged woman.
I can improvise pulse, heartbeat, and lung sounds without grafts. Excretions and copulation will be slightly troublesome, but I have enough time to prepare before I marry Salazar.
Thorn gave Spring the mandatory grafts and helped her implant them. Another half an hour passed before Spring could pass for a human even upon closer inspection, but she would still fail a detailed physical exam.
Good enough. Now for the clothes.
However, there was no need for Spring to say anything. Creep had already found a dress similar to the torn one on Jasmine’s corpse. Spring donned it without a word or instructions.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We must remove the bodies from the scene. We would’ve chucked them into the fire, but they sent a distress signal, and their reinforcements may check the ashes when they arrive. So, we’ll have to take them with us. Who knows, they might even have useful grafts.” Luckily, Creep knew what to do. As he mentioned the humans’ grafts he paused and frowned.
“We need to check the human whose skin you’re wearing. It would be weird if you returned, lacking grafts for no reason.”
Thank you, Creep! What would have I done without you? Thorn didn’t even consider that discrepancy, and raising it would be difficult. Spring wanted to smile, but kept a calm, slightly confused face. She looked at the bunch of muscle and tendons which was once Jasmin Searing. The odds of her having a graft are low, but it’s not impossible.
Meanwhile, Thorn slapped his forehead for the third time since Spring met him. “You’re right! Creep, you should be the leader.”
“I’m not cut out for talking with people.” Creep shook his head, and focused on Spring. “When they find you, you must say you can’t remember anything. Humans can experience memory lapses from sudden stress, just like us. For example, I don’t recall years of my life I spent in the laboratory, they became hazy and merged, turning into a lump of pain I’m still trying to forget.”
“Yes,” Spring confirmed without nodding.
“Nod when saying yes, shake your head when you say no. Humans often make redundant gestures. There’s a bunch of them, but you seem to mimic them innately.”
Your eyes are as sharp as ever. Luckily, Creep did not linger on the discrepancy.
“That is not bad, but your display so far isn’t enough for a functional human. In the beginning, pretend you don’t understand them, or that you cannot speak. Observe them and learn. Communicate with them only once you are certain you know what you’re doing. We had to kill two slaver parties because this pod-head messed up.”
Thorn grinned, but Creep scowled. “Don’t feel proud, every time we kill humans we are risking our lives, and doing so because you ate walnuts without cracking their shells means you gambled our lives over nothing.”
Spring nodded. “Crack nuts before eating them. I’ll remember that.”
“No! Crack and shell them,” Creep said. “In fact, don’t eat anything unless you see others eat it first. Now, how do we make your survival seem plausible?”
“I have an idea,” Bough raised his hand and called for attention, surprising Spring. As far as she recalled, Bough was the densest in Thorn’s group. And yet, he had a solution for a fairly difficult problem.
***
Darin’s party of five trudged through the forest the whole night until daybreak and some three hours after that. Finally, after hours of marching, they approached the location where the clan’s elites had shot a priority one signal flare.
The faint scent of old urine grew stronger with each step, soon becoming so unbearable it made Darin’s eyes water.
Nine hours have passed. Whatever happened, happened. We all know it, even the high council knows it, and yet, our outpost was the closest. We had to send a healer and an escort to help the survivors. If anyone is going to shoulder the blame for this fiasco, it’s going to be me.
Darin bit his lip, his face sour. He knew they could offer no help. If humans resisted the topiary horrors, they could heal them and help bury the dead. Otherwise, he could only hope the topiary horrors had left after sating their hunger. What could five men do when a dozen better trained, better equipped had failed?
As Darin took another step, he sensed the bile in his stomach rising from the obnoxious smell.
We still haven’t reached their final stand, yet the stench is so potent.
Darin’s heart pounded like mad, the rush of blood through his eardrums nearly deafened him. Despite his unwillingness, he shifted a bush before him and finally saw the scene of his clansmen’s battle. His eyes first drifted to the faint red glow.
Only a mound of ashes and dying embers remained of the giant pyre. Countless wooden corpses surrounded the still simmering pile, but there was no sign of humans or movement.
Thank gods. Darin let out the breath he had been holding and heard the others gasp behind him.
Poor sods, a slight pang of guilt stabbed his conscience. Feeling relief after seeing a scene of his clan’s total annihilation was both distasteful and treasonous. Fortunately, there was no gentry around.
It smells much worse than it looks. While the acrid stench made Darin’s head spin, the scene looked quite mundane, resembling heaps of discarded, warped wood soaked in tar and black oils. There was hardly any blood, and no body part bigger than a hand.
The horrors took their bodies, he concluded and cleared his dry throat.
“Ish—” Darin croaked, then licked his dry lips and swallowed spit to wet his throat before giving it another try.
“Is anyone alive?” the rescue party’s brave leader whispered quietly, appearing like he did not wish to hear any replies.
Nothing but silence answered, and Darin relaxed a bit more. He took two more breaths to calm himself and to give the hypothetical survivors a chance to speak. After he sufficiently relaxed, he licked his lips again and wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Check the dead topiary horrors for grafts. Call me if you find any survivors in need of healing.” The four peak first level hunters, who acted like Darin’s retinue, did not need his instructions. They yearned for a chance to rummage through the battlefield of their betters. However, the order was a permission and a reminder of his higher status, as well as an implicit threat not to do anything stupid.
With the warning given, Darin started scavenging, hoping to find any equipment or grafts which the Sun clan’s people might have dropped before the horrors devoured them.
Elder dogs, Darin frowned as he lifted two legs and a bit of torso connecting them. There must have been hundreds of them. Why did they appear so close to our lands? Is another tide of horrors upon us?
Darin shuddered, recalling how he had barely survived those two months of constant fighting. Thrice.
And yet, I became a second level hunter thanks to that last tide, no longer a grunt, but a respectable member of the clan.
He rummaged through the wooden remains with zeal, examining them with great care, hoping he would find another second level graft which had survived its host’s death. Such a find might make him the luckiest man in Searing Flame’s history.
Five minutes passed in silence. Occasional sounds of discarded wood clattering against other wood interrupted the quiet, and the rescue party’s mood improved. While they found no grafts, around one third of the corpses had intact mana cores. The reward for bringing back such wealth surpassed the group’s several months’ pay for the level ones. That was enough for them to advance to level two, assuming their talent proved sufficient. Unfortunately, it was nowhere near enough for Darin to make progress.
“Gods!” Terr screamed, snapping Darin out of his brooding.
“Survivor,” the man stuttered, still holding half an elder dog’s corpse.
“What do we do now?” Spring tried to play dumb, fearing she had revealed too much ability. Newly blighted could hardly process the world around them, while she rushed, making plans to infiltrate a human settlement, something a bloom-folk had never seen before.
“You need clothes,” Thorn pointed out, without a hint of interest in Jasmine Searing’s nude form. “Humans cover their bodies for decency, warmth, and protection. You will need to eat. I have a composter, a graft which helps digest human and animal food. You must keep it inside a separate sack within your pitcher, otherwise it will consume the blood you stored…”
Thorn explained all the peculiarities about imitating humans. However, Spring noticed a bunch of gaps in his instructions. He’s still only considering how to imitate humans from afar. From up close, I will need to pass a basic medical checkup. Fortunately, he gave me second-teeth, those consume a real tooth once a month, but at least they don’t wither if the teeth come from different people or animals.
I need something which resembles a tongue, but they have nothing of the sorts. I could conceal my mouth with a veil. Women do that often enough, and it shouldn’t draw too much attention, especially if I’m an engaged woman.
I can improvise pulse, heartbeat, and lung sounds without grafts. Excretions and copulation will be slightly troublesome, but I have enough time to prepare before I marry Salazar.
Thorn gave Spring the mandatory grafts and helped her implant them. Another half an hour passed before Spring could pass for a human even upon closer inspection, but she would still fail a detailed physical exam.
Good enough. Now for the clothes.
However, there was no need for Spring to say anything. Creep had already found a dress similar to the torn one on Jasmine’s corpse. Spring donned it without a word or instructions.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We must remove the bodies from the scene. We would’ve chucked them into the fire, but they sent a distress signal, and their reinforcements may check the ashes when they arrive. So, we’ll have to take them with us. Who knows, they might even have useful grafts.” Luckily, Creep knew what to do. As he mentioned the humans’ grafts he paused and frowned.
“We need to check the human whose skin you’re wearing. It would be weird if you returned, lacking grafts for no reason.”
Thank you, Creep! What would have I done without you? Thorn didn’t even consider that discrepancy, and raising it would be difficult. Spring wanted to smile, but kept a calm, slightly confused face. She looked at the bunch of muscle and tendons which was once Jasmin Searing. The odds of her having a graft are low, but it’s not impossible.
Meanwhile, Thorn slapped his forehead for the third time since Spring met him. “You’re right! Creep, you should be the leader.”
“I’m not cut out for talking with people.” Creep shook his head, and focused on Spring. “When they find you, you must say you can’t remember anything. Humans can experience memory lapses from sudden stress, just like us. For example, I don’t recall years of my life I spent in the laboratory, they became hazy and merged, turning into a lump of pain I’m still trying to forget.”
“Yes,” Spring confirmed without nodding.
“Nod when saying yes, shake your head when you say no. Humans often make redundant gestures. There’s a bunch of them, but you seem to mimic them innately.”
Your eyes are as sharp as ever. Luckily, Creep did not linger on the discrepancy.
“That is not bad, but your display so far isn’t enough for a functional human. In the beginning, pretend you don’t understand them, or that you cannot speak. Observe them and learn. Communicate with them only once you are certain you know what you’re doing. We had to kill two slaver parties because this pod-head messed up.”
Thorn grinned, but Creep scowled. “Don’t feel proud, every time we kill humans we are risking our lives, and doing so because you ate walnuts without cracking their shells means you gambled our lives over nothing.”
Spring nodded. “Crack nuts before eating them. I’ll remember that.”
“No! Crack and shell them,” Creep said. “In fact, don’t eat anything unless you see others eat it first. Now, how do we make your survival seem plausible?”
“I have an idea,” Bough raised his hand and called for attention, surprising Spring. As far as she recalled, Bough was the densest in Thorn’s group. And yet, he had a solution for a fairly difficult problem.
***
Darin’s party of five trudged through the forest the whole night until daybreak and some three hours after that. Finally, after hours of marching, they approached the location where the clan’s elites had shot a priority one signal flare.
The faint scent of old urine grew stronger with each step, soon becoming so unbearable it made Darin’s eyes water.
Nine hours have passed. Whatever happened, happened. We all know it, even the high council knows it, and yet, our outpost was the closest. We had to send a healer and an escort to help the survivors. If anyone is going to shoulder the blame for this fiasco, it’s going to be me.
Darin bit his lip, his face sour. He knew they could offer no help. If humans resisted the topiary horrors, they could heal them and help bury the dead. Otherwise, he could only hope the topiary horrors had left after sating their hunger. What could five men do when a dozen better trained, better equipped had failed?
As Darin took another step, he sensed the bile in his stomach rising from the obnoxious smell.
We still haven’t reached their final stand, yet the stench is so potent.
Darin’s heart pounded like mad, the rush of blood through his eardrums nearly deafened him. Despite his unwillingness, he shifted a bush before him and finally saw the scene of his clansmen’s battle. His eyes first drifted to the faint red glow.
Only a mound of ashes and dying embers remained of the giant pyre. Countless wooden corpses surrounded the still simmering pile, but there was no sign of humans or movement.
Thank gods. Darin let out the breath he had been holding and heard the others gasp behind him.
Poor sods, a slight pang of guilt stabbed his conscience. Feeling relief after seeing a scene of his clan’s total annihilation was both distasteful and treasonous. Fortunately, there was no gentry around.
It smells much worse than it looks. While the acrid stench made Darin’s head spin, the scene looked quite mundane, resembling heaps of discarded, warped wood soaked in tar and black oils. There was hardly any blood, and no body part bigger than a hand.
The horrors took their bodies, he concluded and cleared his dry throat.
“Ish—” Darin croaked, then licked his dry lips and swallowed spit to wet his throat before giving it another try.
“Is anyone alive?” the rescue party’s brave leader whispered quietly, appearing like he did not wish to hear any replies.
Nothing but silence answered, and Darin relaxed a bit more. He took two more breaths to calm himself and to give the hypothetical survivors a chance to speak. After he sufficiently relaxed, he licked his lips again and wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Check the dead topiary horrors for grafts. Call me if you find any survivors in need of healing.” The four peak first level hunters, who acted like Darin’s retinue, did not need his instructions. They yearned for a chance to rummage through the battlefield of their betters. However, the order was a permission and a reminder of his higher status, as well as an implicit threat not to do anything stupid.
With the warning given, Darin started scavenging, hoping to find any equipment or grafts which the Sun clan’s people might have dropped before the horrors devoured them.
Elder dogs, Darin frowned as he lifted two legs and a bit of torso connecting them. There must have been hundreds of them. Why did they appear so close to our lands? Is another tide of horrors upon us?
Darin shuddered, recalling how he had barely survived those two months of constant fighting. Thrice.
And yet, I became a second level hunter thanks to that last tide, no longer a grunt, but a respectable member of the clan.
He rummaged through the wooden remains with zeal, examining them with great care, hoping he would find another second level graft which had survived its host’s death. Such a find might make him the luckiest man in Searing Flame’s history.
Five minutes passed in silence. Occasional sounds of discarded wood clattering against other wood interrupted the quiet, and the rescue party’s mood improved. While they found no grafts, around one third of the corpses had intact mana cores. The reward for bringing back such wealth surpassed the group’s several months’ pay for the level ones. That was enough for them to advance to level two, assuming their talent proved sufficient. Unfortunately, it was nowhere near enough for Darin to make progress.
“Gods!” Terr screamed, snapping Darin out of his brooding.
“Survivor,” the man stuttered, still holding half an elder dog’s corpse.
