Chapter 015 Names

I've heard it all before.

******

******

The chill of night had made way for the damp of the early morning as moisture clung to every service it could find across the heath, just shy of freezing over. The sky was grey and overcast, ready to unburden itself at the earliest convenience.

"How about Vulpecula," Neron asked the fox, pulling his cloak's hood over his head in case of rain. It helped a bit but could not completely keep out the slight westerly wind as he continued his way south. "It translates to little fox and is a constellation of stars in the sky."

"I don't like the 'V' sound," she denied. With a hop, she landed a small pile of boulders and navigated around them quickly to keep pace with him. It wasn't too hard. He'd left the well traveled paths days ago to look for beasts with a Self. Walking without a road or path was slow going as he navigated rocks, holes, and bushes. He'd known intellectually that traveling with a road was quicker and easier but hadn't internalized it until he'd lived the difference. That was happening a lot in God's Nature. "And I don't want any full names."

"Teumessia? The Teumessian was a fox that could never be caught so Laelaps, a dog that could catch anything, was sent to chase it for eternity." Neron hopped over a small divot in the earth, jostling his pack. It was pretty light at the moment, as most of his food had been eaten in his days out on the heath. "They both ended up as constellations as well."

"Chased forever?" She yelped, diving to hide in a shadow between two of the boulders as if afraid a hound would appear at just this moment to chase her. "No way!"

"How about we return to non-mythical names?" Neron suggested. Most foxes in myth were tricksters, deceivers, or sometimes just plain monsters. 'Fox-like' or 'vulpine' characters were a trope, usually indicating someone conniving or duplicitous. This led to such characters, foxes included, getting their comeuppance in ironic or gruesome manners. "You liked Anna. Or Cassie."

"No!" The skinny creature leapt back out of its hiding place to land on the tallest boulder it could reach to glare up at him. With the perch, it came up to his navel. "I'm not going to have a boring name! If the snake gets a dragon's name then I need one that's just as amazing!"

"Psh," Jorry poked his head out of Neron's clothes to continue to rib the canine. "Good luck. Nothing's cooler than a dragon. And Jormangandr was the biggest dragon. Which made him the best."

Then the cold got too much for the 'best dragon' and he went back to hiding under Neron's clothes, using his body heat to stay as warm as he could. It wasn't even that cold today.

Neron kept walking. He hoped to reach the road before sun fall now that he wasn't taking his time looking at every animal he came across. If he could camp near it and travel along it tomorrow, they should be able to reach the town of Provent in the afternoon. A few hours to attune himself to its Sanctuary, stay the night at a local establishment and continue to road south in the morning.

"Just you wait," the as of yet unnamed fox scurried to keep up. "We'll come up with the greatest name!"

Jorry deigned that responding was not worth exposing himself to the air.

Neron would admit to being a tad exasperated at this entire ordeal. Many cultures placed great emphasis on names. It was a popular occidental belief that a name was the whole of the person or being and it had power in such. Whether it was to claim that giving something your name was to give them power over you or to get their attention. Neron would point those people to a lot of Asiatic countries where it was expected to have multiple names, each representing different stages of their lives, their affiliations, deeds, and titles. 

At the end of the day, a name was simply something used to denote a thing in particular. If you responded to that name, it was your name. Or, at least, one of them.

Perhaps that was an idea that could work.

"Are you still against Tamamo, Inari, Huli, and Kumi?"

"Yep." She paused to briefly scratch behind her right ear. "And no full names! What if they come after me because I took it!?"

"I doubt they will," Neron denied with a touch of exasperation but continued his lead up to his actual suggestion. "But you did like the extended titles of the Asian names."

"Sure!"

"Any in particular stick out to you?"

"Xian! I want to be immortal!"

"What about Tien? Tinh? For titles I mean. They also mean immortal. Or sage, or hermit, or spirit, depending on the translation."

"Hmmm. I think I like Xian more."

Neron did not comment on the fact that her pronunciation of the name likely gave it a different meaning. He wasn't an expert in mandarin and certainly not enough to be able to use it's tonal inflections properly. That, and he had no room to speak. He'd been mispronouncing most of these names himself, his native tongue being largely romantic and Germanic from the heavy influence of English in its development. A passing familiarity with IPA helped him, but not to the degree of native speakers or even a properly trained linguist.

"Then, how about something that takes inspiration from multiple sources? We will keep xiān as a final title, throw together a name from the parts you liked."

"Hmmm," she repeated as she gave it some thought. "Alright, we can try."

"Any parts you liked from the names?"

"I liked the flow of that one."

"Which one?"

"The one you said was vetnameeze."

"You mean Vietnamese. Hồ ly tinh?" Fox spirit, with the Ly serving as the counter for fox-like or similar animals. "Or would that be Hồ ly xiān?"

"Uhhh," she ruminated on the name for a moment, seeming dissatisfied, and Neron had a flash of inspiration.

"How about this? Cu hồ ly xiān. Cu, from Vulpecula." Cu could also mean hound in Irish, which was appropriate for the fox, and both it and the Latin were pronounced with 'Koo'.

"Cuholy Xian?" She tasted the name on her tongue, eyes lighting up. Then her eyes darted toward where Jorry remained hidden by his clothes.

"It could be something like Cuhồly nhất vĩ xiān," Neron suggested seeing her reluctance. "Cuhồly the single tailed immortal. That way, if you evolve to have more tails you can be Cuhồly nhị vĩ xiān, and so on." A bit more flair would hopefully push her over the edge.

And it seemed to work.

"Right! I am now Cuholy nhat vi xian and some day I will be Cuholy...Um, what's nine tailed immortal?"

"You would be Cuhồly cửu vĩ xiān at that point." Neron wasn't a hundred percent certain of his Vietnamese, only having picked up a bit of it from a lover six or seven years ago, but he believed that was correct. He vaguely remembered something about two counting systems and thought he'd used the correct one in this context.

"Right! One day I'll be Cuholy cuu vi xian!"

At the end of the day, the bastardization of languages he'd just puled off didn't really matter. If someone someday could talk to the fox without him there to translate, then it wouldn't be his problem if they took exception to playing fast and loose with their language.

"Hey snake! Come greet Cuholy nhat vi xian."

"No. Go away."

"Wha-! Hey!"

So long as Cuholy responded to the name then it served it's purpose for Neron.

It was just a name after all.

******

I didn't have a name then. None of us did. 

I wasn't even I yet.

Not fully.

Not completely.

We weren't dumb, no matter what others say. We learned. 

We learned how to hunt. We learned how to work together. We learned how to move quietly. We learned to work with the birds. We learned what was prey we could take by ourselves, needed others to trick, or required the entire pack to take down.

We learned through play. We learned through watching the older members of the family. And yes, sometimes we learned by dying.

Death was... terrible. It was bloody. It was violent. It was painful. 

And when we came back we weren't quite... us.

Not in the way I am I now, but in another way. A lesser, more subtle way. 

Those who died learned slower. They were a tail twitch behind even the slowest of us. They moved alone more. Were more violent. We had to watch them. Protect them. Or they'd die again and they'd be not quite right for longer.

So we learned to avoid death no matter what.

We weren't always successful.

Before my time, there was a time where everyone was dying. Everyone was not right.

But that was many moons ago.

In my time, we were powerful. Not the strongest. Never the strongest. But we were powerful in other ways. In the ways of the many. In the ways of learning.

We avoided the greater beasts. Lesser beasts were prey.

A time of abundance. Of new life. That was my time.

Then Players came.

They came from the rising sun. A few, at first, but they were strong. Stronger than we could handle. And they hunted us. We couldn't understand their words. Not then. But we could understand their intent.

We did not hate them.

It was natural that they would kill us. Just as we hunt the stag that grows too quick to grow quicker, so too would others hunt us. We hunt beasts. We hunt the Blessed. Blessed hunt beasts. Blessed hunt Blessed.

It is the way of things. 

We kill to eat.

We eat to grow.

We grow to live.

We were strong and many yet they were stronger and many more.

We died. All of us.

Once. Twice. An uncountable amount of times as we came back not... us and thus we weren't there. Not fully.

I cannot say how many moons passed before we were us again.

I was not the first. Nor was I the last. Yet, even when we were not, the pack was.

And that saved us.

It was a slow thing. One day at a time. Sometimes, there were setbacks. One of us would die. The pack would find them again. And we would wait until they were them.

One day, we all were. Not as we are now. Not as I am now. But more than the half empty shadows we were.

Not all of us were there.

Half the pack was lost to us, never to be found again. Age, perhaps. Many of the older members were gone. But many of the younger pups were gone too.

The ravens found us there. In the time of uncertainty and fear. They had fared better than us, taking to the skies which were yet free.

Together, we would live.

We knew we could not stay. There were too many Blessed, too many Players, for our territory to let us grow. They were weaker than the first Players. But they moved in numbers.

We had to leave.

To the stars was the plains. Territory of the hunters.

To the setting sun were more Blessed. In larger numbers.

To the rising sun were the Players. The reason for our flight.

Thus we headed toward the moons.

A mistake.

We should have taken out chances with the hunters. Many of us would have died, but the pack would have survived.

Do not blame us. We had no way of knowing Players avoided the plains as well. They too were heading toward the moons' cradle.

Do not blame us. We never hated or blamed you. You simply wished to kill to eat to grow to live. That is life.

Do not blame us. We were desperate. We did not know Kaiser was there.

******

The rest stop was occupied when Neron and his two bestial companions found it.

A score of men and women, of a variety of races, were setting up tents as the light faded from the sky. The fires were flickering to life, not yet hot enough to cook but bright enough to catch the eyes.

Neron saw them from five hundred meters away as he crested a hill on the dirt road. He kept moving, not changing his cadence in the slightest as Cuholy froze at the sight for a moment, before dashing off to the side of the road, trying to disappear into the brush.

"Do not bother," Neron said, his tone conversational and steady. "They have already seen us."

"How can- ugh!" Jorry started asking a question, poking his head out of Neron's shirt to do so, but a late day breeze sent him back into the warmth.

"The setting sun is at our backs," Neron explained simply. He was well past the end of his sleep cycle but had pushed on to get to a waystop. He'd underestimated how tiring a day of nonstop walking would be. For the last few weeks he'd traveled in starts and stops, pausing regularly to look for beasts with a Self. "And they might not have animal eyes, but enhanced vision is one of the most common abilities. Any player with a bow or who wants to shoot spells will try and get it. There are a dozen common Jobs that grant it. So long as they are not idiots they will have seen us coming for at least a kilometer."

Cuholy, reluctantly, left her hiding place in the tall grass and rushed to catch up with Neron.

"Why are we getting closer?" She hissed, trying to keep her voice down as her eyes and ears darted around in search of threats.

"Why would we not?" Neron asked simply.

"Because they could be dangerous!"

"So could we."

It was one those things that weren't written down, at least not explicitly. If it weren't for Neron specifically looking for words written between the lines while reading in Optim's shop, then silent indicators of culture like this would have passed him by. Nobody ever wrote 'this is common sense' because everyone assumed people had it. That was why it was common.

It was 'common sense' that the Law of the Wild ruled beyond Sanctified settlements. It was common sense that traveling beyond those settlements was putting your life in your hands. And it was common sense that there was safety in numbers. 

People to watch your back. People with complimentary skills or Jobs or even just an extra pair of eyes to take up watch when it was time to rest. And with people came word of mouth. Witnesses. Large groups usually came with large reputations. They were known quantities. They could be negotiated with and wouldn't want to loss their members in pointless fighting.

So, what does it say when a small group or an individual travels without those numbers? It means that they are confident in their strength, stupid enough to not realize the risks, or have nothing left to lose with death. Any of those three are dangerous. Any two of them were a threat. And all three of them together wiped out teams, groups, or towns.

If an expedition is wiped out, it means the loss of time, arms, armor, and supplies. One catastrophe was enough to absolutely ruin a mercenary band's prospects, on top of their reputation. Without reputation, returning to life was inconsequential. Nobody would want to pay someone they thought would fail. And it wasn't solely other Blessed that roamed the world. There were Rogues. 

Monsters with a Self that wandered from place to place in search of prey. They were almost always the product of an evolution that left them the sole member of their new species in their area and would set out in search of more of their kind, or more advantageous prey for their new abilities. They, being alone, wouldn't feel the need to establish a dungeon to ensure the survival of their compatriots. A Rogue could range from as week as a ratman to strong enough to destroy cities. And many of them were humanoid.

So Neron maintained his casual approach toward the rest stop, careful not to take hostile action but also to not seem intimidated.

A group of five stepped from the settling camp, hands on weapons and body language tense as he drew nearer. Neron did not miss the fact that the rest of the group were keeping an eye on him as well, though they continued to pretend to set up camp. They were experienced, Neron noted. Experienced and knew their roles well.

"Where are you heading stranger?" The most heavily armored of the five, a massive orc a head taller than even Neron, held up a hand to stop him. His chain-mail jingled against the platted gauntlets.

"South. To Provent, then further to see the Bone Wall." Neron had expected them to relax as he spoke. A few humanoid monsters used clothes, even if rarely as nice as his own, but very few of them could speak with the Blessed.

Instead, their tension seemed to rise and one of them lowered themselves to lunge at the sound of his voice, the dagger she'd been spinning idly in her hand suddenly poised to lunge. Cuholy yelped at the sight, rushing to hide behind Neron and put his legs between her and the warriors.

It took Neron a moment to realize what the cause was.

"Ah, I apologize if my face and voice startled you." Neron did his best to sound contrite as he tapped the side of his extended face. He'd forgotten to deactivate it as he approached. He really needed to sleep if he was making this kind of easy mistake. Or was it a by product of spending days on end in the wild with only Jorry to talk to? "A side effect of my first Nature skill is that I gain traits from my beasts. I do not control which I get, unfortunately." Neron let his serpent's tongue extend and flicker out. "I have been trying to stay out of towns till I can level it up so I stop looking like... well, this."

Neron carefully watched their reactions to his words. Two of them, both human, winced in sympathy and relaxed. It was a pretty common thing for players' Natures to have unplanned side effect. Nothing overtly detrimental, at least not till the second Step, but more than one player had deleted their character and restarted because of aspects they didn't like in their Nature and its skills.

The other three didn't have the same reaction, but the one with the daggers, a subspecies of elf with shorter ears but larger eyes if Neron wasn't mistaken, ceased looking like they were going to gut him. The other, another human, suddenly looked a lot less interested as well.

Neron had given away a lot of information with his little apology. He was a Player. He was new. He'd been out in the wild a while with only one bag, thus his supplies were low. The reason he was accompanied by animals was that he had a Nature similar to the popular 'Beast Master.' And his first skill wasn't anything directly damaging.

Altogether, he was a weak idiot, unaware of the risks of the road, and with nothing worthwhile to rob. The same as a countless number of other Players.

"A Player? Did you come from Calderine?" The leader did not show any reaction whatsoever, which in of itself was telling.

"I did," Neron nodded, reaching behind him slowly to his pack, careful not to make any sudden movements as a half dozen eyes tracked his hand. It took a second of blindly groping before he found what he was looking for.

It was the turn of the three natives to truly relax as they caught sight of the tin cup he used for tea.

"Are you headed that way?" Neron kept talking as he took a moment to shape his spirit into something that could be called a W, 8, O, or demented wave depending on the angle one viewed it. The spell came quickly. Instead of the minutes when he first learned it repeated usage over the last weeks allowed him to cast Spring in only thirty seconds. It was one of his quickest. 

"We are," the leader said brusquely, hand reaching down to his belt and unhooking a small plate with an indent in its center. "The guilds are there? Are they still recruiting?"

"They were when I left," Neron nodded as he held a clench hand over the cup. Water, a clear trickle, started to drip from the point right below his skin. "The leaders for the Tower, Bank, and Troupedoors returned to the frontier, and the festival is done, but they all left recruiting stations when they did. They are all paying a premium for experienced teams. Any dangers to the south?"

It took a little while, only a small trickle of water falling from his hand, but Neron eventually had a full sip pooling in his cup. Usually it took him ten minutes and multiple castings of the spell to refill his water skin but a sip was all he needed at the moment.

The orc, by contrast, was a deft hand with the basic spell. In the blink of an eye, and without the need to use his other hands, water filled his small saucer.

"A dungeon break two days south of Provent," he grunted as they exchanged containers of magically generated water. "Goblins. Cave went unnoticed too long. Cleanup is being led by the Hijal Guild. They're the power in the area."

As one, Neron and the orc raised their containers to their lips and drank.

The natives relaxed completely, stowing away their weapons and the players followed their lead.

"Kulku. I lead the Interlopers."

"Kaisar," Neron said. "Just planning to pass the night at the waystop."

"If you take the south side we'll keep our distance."

The two share a nod and Neron walked past the group and they parted to let him.

With the exchange of information from their mind, water from their Spirits, and names for their bodies, they were free to lay out their requirements for peaceful interactions. 

There was no conflict so a deal was reached and both sides would trust the other to maintain peace and defend their communal resting place during their time together. The Law of the Wild was still present, and there was no guarantee either side wouldn't break the ritually agreed peace, but nobody would do so lightly. To do so was to go against three pillars of the Self and to find no succor or relief against the world. They'd be alone and no Blessed would trust them, no Sanctuary would accept them, and Délaash would claim them. 

If peace hadn't been possible one of them, most likely Neron as he was the weaker party, would move on to find another place to lay his head for the night.

Cuholy hurried to follow in Neron's footsteps, head swiveling back and forth between him and the group to keep an eye on them.

"Isn't your name Neron? That's what you said last night!"

"You need to pay attention, fox," Jorry said poking his head from Neron's shirt to look down at the creature. "He clearly lied so that he can betray them later. We'll attack when they're asleep!"

"But there's so many of them," the fox cried, its voice trembling in fear.

"That's why we'll be quiet. And careful."

"But, but, but," Cuholy stuttered, trying to come up with a reason not to yet unable to to formulate the words.

Neron rubbed his eyes tiredly as he let out a yawn.

"Think about it," Jorry purred in glee. "All these Blessed, sleeping, unprepared, and all ours. It's gotta enough to let us evolve. Both of us!"

Cuholy swayed, looking from the snake to the mercenaries watching Neron walk passed them. Then she shook her head and hurried in front of Neron so she could stand in front of him.

"We can't! We'll die!"

Neron stepped over her and kept walking.

The fox, stunned by the disregard, remained in place for a moment. Then she caught sight of all the curious eyes that remained on her and dashed to follow Neron.

Neron kept his eyes toward the road south, hard packed earth stretching into the distance with subtle twists and turns to avoid large groups of rock or small ravines. Provent wasn't visible, but the waystop was set atop a roughly flat hillock allowed a commanding view of the heath for several kilometers. It was past the grouping of tents, at the very edge of the ground flattened by countless travelers over the centuries, that Neron finally stopped.

Setting down his bag beside a small ring of stones, he set about constructing his small camp. As he did, he spoke to his traveling companions sotto voce. Whispering carried but a conversation at this low level should be fine seeing as Jorry's head was right beside his mouth and Cuholy had the hearing of a fox.

"We will not be killing anyone tonight," Neron started as he began to take items from his pack. "I did not lie. My name is Neron Kaisar. In my world it is common to have two or more names. I simply gave them my last name because it will be easier for people to separate me when I use my skill and look off putting from me when I look like a regular human if I use separate names for them."

"Oh," Jorry sighed, disappointment tinging his voice.

The nature of Neron's skill was such that he needed to keep traits active to learn to use them instinctively. Right now, it was relatively easy but that would not always be the case. He wasn't even level ten in The Nest yet and he knew every skill got harder to increase the higher its level. Neron could not be certain, but he had a vague inclination on where it would go once it crossed its first threshold. He'd probably need to learn to use all his traits together, something that would get harder the more he gained, or he'd need to acclimate to multiple traits at once.

Right now Neron looked like a human with fox's jaw and a snake tongue. The other two traits he'd gained from Jorry weren't visible, so they weren't a concern but what happened when he had other beasts and traits? If he managed to find an insect like he wished? Or an aquatic creature? By the end of it he'd look more monstrous than an actual monster. He could deactivate the skill in towns but in the wild it was better to have a separate identity.

It wouldn't hold up to great scrutiny, as there probably not too many people traveling with a snake and a fox, to say nothing of any other beasts he found, but separate names would create a layer of distance between 'Neron' the player who wandered into town and 'Kaisar' the monstrous creature on the road.

Besides, he had this last name, he might as well use it for something and he'd had the idea when helping Cuholy find her name. Neron did not really care how people addressed him and was fine using another name to his advantage.

"Also, if I do not want others to know my ability to talk to you, I will not respond to you verbally," Neron addressed the fox. "Jorry knew this already but it is my fault for not telling you. I am sorry for forgetting."

"Ah," Cuholy's tail swished behind her. "It's okay, I guess. Why don't you want others knowing you can talk to us?"

"It is for your safety, and my own," Neron explained, keeping his voice low as he set up his tent. Best to frame this in a manner the fox would understand and attach it to his promise to her. "Just like you wish to kill the Blessed to evolve, they also want to kill beasts with Selves to grow. But you are rare and that makes you valuable. So, I either put you at risk by saying you can speak back or I seem crazy to hold conversations with you when you can not. Neither are desirable."

Neron wasn't even lying. That explaining things in this way increased the creatures reliance on Neron was a side benefit.

Really.

Optim had been able to accept Jorry because he'd been tiny, cute, and Neron had built up a report with her over months meaning that she trusted him. Yet even she, well read and connected, had believed he was a monster as soon as she heard he had a Self. That had been in the safest place on this side of the continent, surrounded by guards and high level Players and Natives. If were anywhere else? Or with a larger creature like Jorry was now? Or an active carnivore like a fox? There was a good chance the beast would be killed and Neron might be as well. It would loose its Self and he would be punished for bringing a dangerous element into a Sanctified zone.

Then there was the lure of the creatures themselves. Many would simply see them as experience to increase their level. Just poking his head into the occasional stream or forum online Neron knew how valuable news of an 'Elite,' 'Named Enemy,' or 'Boss' was in God's Nature. Just the hint of one was enough to mobilize hundreds of players to hunting it down if they thought they could catch it, to say nothing of Natives who'd be concerned for safety on top of the greed for levels. Both Jorry and Cuholy were weak right now, only fitting for low level players, but that was the vast majority of them. Why waste days hunting and risk death when there is an easy kill nearby that practically guaranteed a level or two?

"But, even if I do not respond out loud, I am still listening," he continued, taking his equipment out of his pack and laying it down. "Feel free to speak your mind. If I need to communicate, I will use my fingers, tongue, or eyes, so keep track of them for signals."

"...Alright," her agreement is slow, as if unsure she'd actually be able to recognize the signals, but Neron would cross that bridge when it became relevant. That kind of communication came with time and experience, not rote memorization of prearranged signals for situations that would never happen in real life. This wasn't a military and he was wasn't a general.

His tent was little more than a water resistant blanket, sewn together in such a way that three pikes of metal were all that it took to keep it up with a flap for an entrance and four spokes for corners, anchoring it into a second blanket that acted as a floor. It would keep the wind out and his sleep roll would provide most of the actual insulation. The nights still got cold, but he wasn't at risk of freezing to death and his feet didn't poke out.

"We're not killing these guys but we are going to find others, right?" Jorry asked. "I can't evolve into a dragon by walking." 

Neron could have pointed out that he was the one doing the walking, but instead nodded at the snake's words. Cuholy's tail drooped.

"Killing Blessed is off the table for the moment," he explained and the fox perked up slightly. "It might be the most expedient for you to evolve but that only matters if we do not die."

"But I'll come back!"

"And when we do the guards at the Sanctuary will be ready to ship me off to prison or a Work Sanctum. You will become an experiment." 

Jorry looked like he'd protest but thought better of it. Cuholy let out a little whine at the thought. If that happened Neron would just delete his character and create a new one in Leidon. His face wouldn't change but a few murders weren't worth the effort of posting a bounty across cities. 

That is if he didn't just stop playing God's Nature altogether. 

Inertia and curiosity about his skill, fueled by the sheer convenience of the time difference, were the main reason he was still around now that he was sure his sisters would be able to take care of themselves without him.

"So we obey laws. Customs. We work with people," Neron continued, careful to keep his voice low as he set about gathering up some brush as kindling. "We do not make ourselves targets by chasing short term gains. I promised to help you and to keep you alive as much as possible." Neron's eyes slid up from the snake whose head bobbed beside his to the fox that followed beside him. "I can not do that if you do not listen to me."

It was important to start setting rules down now. Jorry had been compliant, or rather, harmless and Cuholy was skittish and hesitant but there was no guarantee other beasts he managed to recruit would be as amenable. But Neron could side step the issue entirely by creating a structure now and then folding them in later.

Tell people to do something and they chafe.

Tell people this is how it is done, show them everyone else doing the same, and they will conform.

There were exceptions, of course, but those exceptions wouldn't join Neron in the first place.

"Are we supposed to ignore opportunities like this?" Jorry asked, tongue flickering rapidly in agitation even as Cuholy lowered her head in obedience. "There are a lot of them now but what if they were alone? Or just a few? Should we leave them alone then? They'd just be lying there! Vulnerable!"

"No," Neron denied. "They will not. They will have guards. They will be careful. As will everybody else. And if we were successful in eliminating them? We get a bit stronger. They get smarter. And the next time we meet they will not give us the chance."

Jorry could, with some help, slip into some tents. If they chose the right target, someone who didn't invest in Body more than strictly necessary, he might even be able to kill them. But they'd struggle. Jorry was not venomous, he was a constrictor and, unless he choked off sound, it would take a while for them to die and they would not sleep through it. One noise and they'd be doomed.

"You are thinking like a monster," Neron chastised. "You see prey and you attack. That is how you die. If I am here, you will come back. But if I am not? When I am not? You will die and might not return. Ever. If not to these people, then to the next. Or the next. You need to think like a dragon. A smart one."

Jorry shrunk back into Neron's collar, sulking. But he didn't argue anymore. He remembered the stories, about dragons who died because there were a lot of humans and they were alone.

"So, we're not going to attack anyone," Cuholy sighed in relief, laying on the ground beside the pit Sculpted into the stone by previous travelers as Neron started laying out the smaller branches and grass for kindling.

"We are not," Neron nodded. Then he gave the carrot after the stick. "But Jorry is correct. Any encounter is an opportunity." The snake poked his head out of his collar again. "You just need to know which are worth the risks. And how to get what you want."

The fox blinked dark eyes up at him and he responded with a smile that stretched his lips upwards. It would have been called foxy on its face. On his, it just looked disturbing. He wiped it away a moment later.

"Now." Neron said. Loudly. "Who wants food?"

The noise attracted eyes from the camp of mercenaries. Most of them had been keeping an eye on him as he set up his small camp, gazes drifting casually over from games of dice and the motions of equipment maintenance. Wariness and caution warring with curiosity after a long day on the road. 

Not worried. Experienced. With a few exceptions. For as much as they had been watching him, he'd been observing them. Who was close to whom. The small cliques. Who had better armor and weapons. The nicest tent. The structure of the camp. 

And, most importantly, who dug the latrine. 

Neron's own experience lay not with swords and the dance of death, but with the exchange of words and the twisting of opinion.

So, when the same man who dug the latrines returned to his tent on the border of the camp to find a dead roe dear and set about carving it up on a makeshift table of stone, Neron kept track out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the young man, barely out of boyhood, flayed and gutted it with the efficiency that spoke of long practice. 

It was this boy that Neron approached with the casualness of the ignorant under the barely concealed gazes of Players and Natives more experienced than either of them.

Nobody tensed. Nobody drew weapons. They just went about their evening as their eyes and ears remained locked onto the unknown amidst them.

"Evening," Neron greeted the boy, couldn't have been more than sixteen, with a yawn and the slump of shoulders that spoke of two days without sleep.

"Huh?" Immersed in his work, the boy looked up in surprise at his approach. Blue eyes widened and knuckles tightened on the knife cutting meat from a leg.

Neron pretended not to notice.

"Do you mind if I get rid of those?" Pointing to the two buckets, one filled with drained blood and the other with viscera of the kill, Neron jerked a thumb tiredly over his shoulder to where Cuholy watched. She hadn't followed him near the mercenaries. "Got to feed the fox."

"Uhhh," the boy, thrown by the request and not having had time to gather his thoughts, looked around as if for advice from the others in his camp.

Neron did not give him time to gather his thoughts.

"You would be doing me a favor. And I will bring back the buckets."

The tone was what sold it. The slight exasperation and exhaustion, barely bordering a whine, spoke of a shared exhaustion, of a long day for both of them. It was a tone that asked 'are you really going to argue over this? Is it worth it? I'm doing work for you. Nobody else is.'

"Suuure?" He stretched out the word, eyes still shifty and unsure as he waited for anyone to tell him no.

"Thanks."

With permission, and as quickly as he could while pretending to be slightly more tired than he actually was, Neron picked up the buckets and returned to his own tent.

He dropped the one filled with organs in front of Cuholy and took the other one out beyond the waystop, taking a few minutes to Sculpt a hole in the dirt to dump the blood in before covering it. By the time Neron returned, the eyes of the mercenaries had returned to the casual acknowledgement that came with caution and indifference.

"They just... gave you food? For nothing?" Cuholy's fur was splattered with blood. She was a messy eater.

"Most Blessed do not have the ability to digest that," Neron gestured to the half eaten bucket, lowering his voice once more. "Some cultures will turn them into dishes, and anybody will eat it if they are starving, but we simply lack the powerful stomach acid you have for most of it. It was worthless to them. And I asked the right person, at the right time, using the right words."

"But... its food! Shouldn't they save it for later?"

"They are confident they can get more," Neron explained, pulling out the last of his own food from his bag. "With abundance comes the ability to choose based on preference."

"That's just wasteful," the fox grumbled, returning to her meal with gusto.

Neron watched her with blank eyes as he chewed his own food.

Almost every animal, with very few exceptions, were omnivorous to one degree or another to maintain proper nutrition. The difference was in ratio. A cow would eat a snake if it caught it, but most of its diet was plant based. Foxes, in contrast, were obligate carnivores. Their diet consists of over seventy percent meat. And meat moves. It doesn't want to be food. A huge portion of their life was spent in looking for food. Just staying alive and healthy was a full time job.

Cuholy was not healthy. Not by a long shot.

In the light of day it was clear that she was emaciated and starving. The rabbit from last night had probably been her first meal in a long time and, judging by its wounds, it had been a lucky kill. She'd devoured it, but one meal did not cure the effects of starvation.

Yet she hadn't said a single thing.

He'd promised her food and protection, yet she hadn't asked for the first all day. Even after walking the whole time, burning energy she probably didn't have, and not taking a break for longer than a few minutes, she'd kept up with him. Without complaint.

Either she had blind faith in his ability to hold up his end of the deal or, more likely, she was more terrified of being left behind if she pushed even a little.

What a little coward he'd picked up.

Subservience he could use. Fear was acceptable. Self-sabotage due to fear was not.

Would she even be useful?

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