Brianna
I’ve
always struggled picking out clothes. It doesn’t matter if it’s for travel,
work, or a special event, I seem to hit a point where I regret my choices.
Like
today.
Late
afternoon sun glared in my eyes, the wide brim of my slouch hat unable to
shield me. Mostly because it was on the ground a dozen paces distant. It was
hot, and this close to the marsh, humid too. My linen blouse was drenched in
sweat, though a breeze provided a modicum of relief from the heat—that part,
I’d gotten right. The leather traveling vest was well-vented, my padded
breeches also a good compromise between comfort and protection. But my boots
were clearly wrong. Light beige leather with flexible soles prioritizing
comfort over armor seemed a good idea for the long trek between Halamar and
Barricayde.
But the
bog toad with its jaws locked around my right ankle seemed intent on demonstrating
the error of my ways.
It was
half the size of a coach, with an underbite and stubby tusks thick as my legs.
I kicked it with my free foot as it shambled backwards, dragging me toward the
marsh. Vision blurry from sweat streaming into my eyes, I squinted, trying to
sight along the barrel of my single shot pistol.
One shot.
At this range I can’t miss.
I fired,
the pistol belching gray smoke and a dull wumm.
The toad
lurched back, blood oozing from an apparently non-critical wound. It blinked a
pair of fist-sized ruby eyes, lunged at me again, this time snapping both legs
up to my knees in a maw as broad as my arm span.
How did I
let a minor predator ambush me? Along a marked path! Big city’s making me soft.
No! I will
not die to an oversized frog. I shoved the pistol in its holster, unfolded my
collapsible spear with a metallic klink, jabbed it at the creature’s head. A
head which seemed to comprise half its mass. The third strike to its thick hide
found a sensitive spot: it spat out my legs, sneezed a blob of mucus and blood
on me, and shambled back into the marsh.
“Oww.
Filthy beast. That hurt.”
I stood,
yelped in pain, collapsing to my knees again.
Those
critters might not have sharp teeth, but they bite hard.
First
things first: I reloaded my pistol. It may have been as effective as poking a
troll with a toothpick, but it was my toothpick, and it was gonna be loaded.
I pulled
off boots caked with blood and saliva to reveal a souvenir of the encounter: bruises
from ankle to mid thigh.
Should
have worn armored boots. Blood or mucus colored armored boots would have been
ideal. But on the bright side, none of the blood was mine.
“It’s a
well-traveled path. You can wear comfortable traveling clothes, no need for
armor.
Owww.
You’re an idiot, Brianna,” I muttered, managing to stay up on the next attempt.
“Hope they
have a decent healer in Barricayde. Not to mention a laundry.”
Shard
Murky
water burned my eyes as my feet sank into the mud. The caprid in my arms
flailed and kicked, I could feel its chest heave in panicked breaths. “Juro, a
little help?” I called.
“I am
helping. I’m watching out for predators.” Juro crouched atop a low branch of a
live oak tree, gaze darting between trees and clumps of reeds. He grinned.
“None here. You’re welcome.”
“I meant,
could you grab the other two trapped caprids.”
“Theoretically,
I could.”
I waded
ashore, set the waist-high, hoofed creature next to its flockmates, hoping the
presence of the herd would calm it.
“At least
keep the flock from panicking while I get the other two.”
Juro
bounded from branch to branch, finally settling on the ground beside me. He had
auburn fur, stood a tad shorter than me, his tail shorter as well, and lacking
the white puffy tip he made fun of when we were growing up.
“If we
leave them out here,” he said, “our neighbors might learn a valuable lesson
about the merits of proper animal husbandry.”
“The
creatures horns are blunted, they cannot defend themselves against predators
and would most likely be devoured by bog toads before the humans were able to
recover them all.”
“Which
would certainly be a valuable lesson, Shard. Hurt what they value most.”
Juro
didn’t need to complete the thought. We all knew what that was. “It would
indeed hurt their coin purse, but caprids shouldn’t pay the price to do so. The
creatures are innocent.”
“Didn’t
you want to visit the bookseller this afternoon? New volume of that pirate
series you’re always talking about.”
I dove
back into the stagnant green-brown murk at the edge of the marsh, swam around
the last two stragglers, managing to shoo them toward the herd without having
to carry them.
I spat,
trying to clear the taste of marsh water from my mouth. Mud, slimy strands of
algae, and decaying vegetation plugged my nose, clung to my ears, obscured my
normally keen senses. But I wasn’t worried, Juro was a rascal, but he’d have my
back at the first hint of danger.
“Yes. It’s
supposed to be out today. But after all that effort, we can’t leave the task
unfinished.”
Juro
shrugged, but helped guide the flock toward the shepherd’s day shed.
We
encountered the herder’s daughter a few minutes later, sprinting toward us, a
wooden crook in her hands, single shot rifle slung across her back.
“You’ve found
them, thank you!” She huffed heavily, her armor and gear sized more for an adult
human than an early teen.
“That’s
the third time this month,” said Juro.
She
mumbled, pointed at the creatures with an index finger as she counted. “All
here. My stupid little brother needed help with…” She shook her head. “It’s not
important. I’d like to thank you, but I don’t have my coin purse with me. Come
with me to the day shed, maybe there’s something there.”
“It’s OK,”
I said. “I’m still hoping to make it to the bookseller today.”
Juro snorked. “Looking like that? The humans won’t even let you through the
city gate! You’ll be lucky if they don’t mistake you for a swamp monster and
hunt you.”
“Good
point.” I turned to the girl. “How about a few buckets of fresh water, some
rags, and a brush?”
She smiled. “Deal.” She moved to clap me on the
shoulder, hesitated, backed off half a step. “Maybe after a bath.”
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