~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bowman POV ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Uh, hey boss. Somethin’s lookin’ at me from the trees,” Dale said more calmly than he felt.

The sound of George unsheathing his sword rasped through the clearing behind Dale.

“What is it?” Ken’s voice asked from across the clearing as he brought the other torch closer.

“Uh, no idea. I can’t see nothin’,” Dale replied, not taking his eyes off the branches above. “Just know when I’m bein’ looked at.”

“Real bloody helpful, Dale,” came George’s voice from behind. “You’re the sodding scout, have you tried looking harder?”

“I’m lookin’ right at…whatever it is, but it’s either real small or invisible,” Dale said, slightly hurt.

“It’s not another Shadow Panther, is it?” Ken asked.

“Nah, don’t feel that dangerous,” Dale said. Or dangerous at all, he thought to himself. “It’s just…there. Lookin’ at me.”

“Could just be an owl,” George suggested, to which Dale scoffed.

“Not this close to a Shadow Panther’s den. Not even bugs’ll come within a mile o’ here.”

“How far did we track that thing, anyway?” George suddenly asked.

“Probably…eight to ten miles off the trail,” Dale said.

“You bastard! Why the fuck didn’t you say we went that far!” George said angrily. “Quick, hide the torches behind your back!”

“Why? How are we supposed to see the thing if we do that?” Ken asked.

“Just do it! Here, hide them behind my shield,” George said, sliding his arm out from the straps and holding the shield out to his side to cover Dale’s torch. “Put yours back here too, moron.”

Ken grumbled, but walked over to comply. Dale’s eyes never left the branches, and as the light from the torches threw a heavy shadow into the branches above, he gave his eyes a moment to adjust. Right there! Just below the leaves of the lowest branch was a small pinprick of golden light, like an ember hanging in the air.

“S’right there,” Dale said softly, “Just below that clump ‘o leaves. Like an ember. Real small like.”

“I can’t see shit,” Ken complained.

“No, I see it too.” George confirmed.

“Well, what is it?” Ken asked.

“That small, floating there in the wind, gotta be a Fairy.” George said. “Damn, this is why we aren’t supposed to go this far from the trail!”

“Well, I still can’t see it,” Ken griped. “Point it out.”

Dale raised a finger and pointed at the little light, which started to slowly float higher up toward the leaves, barely moving at all as if pretending it wasn’t moving in the first place.

“Oh, I see it!” Ken exclaimed, pulling out one of his smaller blowguns.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” George hissed. “Moron! If you were good enough to hit a Fairy, you wouldn’t be out here with us running shitty errands for shady assholes. You miss, and that thing bolts for home, we’ll be tits deep in an angry cloud of tiny teeth before we even get half way back to the trail.”

Ken fumbled to put his blowgun away, but dropped it.

“Damn Shadow Panther, hand’s all messed up,” he complained.

“Well, whadda we do?” Dale asked.

“Think it knows Metrish?” George asked.

“Hey Fairy! Come on down! We won’t hurt you!” Dale called out in Metrish. “Got any o’ those Fairy potions?” The ember didn’t move. “Uh, prob’ly not, boss.”

“Well, wave it over, then,” George suggested.

“Don’t wave it over!” Ken said. “Those shits are always high Level! Damn, the stories are true. [Identify] doesn’t work on Fairies.”

“Then why, for the love of God, did you even think about shooting it?” George asked.

“I, uh. Didn’t think that far ahead,” Ken mumbled.

“We ought to leave it alone,” Dale said. “Make it think we aren’t a threat.”

“Oh! I can feel it looking at me, now!” Ken said with a shiver. “That’s creepy. It doesn’t even have eyes, but it feels like it’s looking at my insides.”

Dale shivered too. “Fairy’s Gaze,” he said. “Heard about it from a man in the south. Let’s just leave it. Come on. George, I’ll skin that cat and let’s get out of here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pel POV ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pel thought for sure he was going to die. His first short trip outside The Glade and he was already toast. At first it seemed like they weren’t going to find him, but then they hid the torches to make him stand out against the night. Clearly familiar with Fairies, then. At least Shieldy, anyway. When Blowhard pulled out that mini-blowgun he almost ran for it, but Shieldy stopped him. Seems like a nice guy.

Bowman tried calling out to him, but Pel couldn’t understand what he was saying. Erring on the side of caution, he elected to remain still instead of slowly backing away. Which was clearly the right decision, as they had finally turned away and left him alone. Blowhard felt almost like…dark wind, with a tinge of something slick like oil. It was a feeling just short of being gross. Shieldy had felt like a prickly wall that might just as likely collapse on you as protect you.

Blowhard’s hand is hurt. Shieldy is limping. Should I offer to heal them? Well, maybe not Blowhard. Pel stayed in the air unmoving as he considered it. They left him alone, so they probably weren’t evil kidnappers. Two of them were hurt, and in a dangerous forest. Bowman was cutting into the panther, making rather disgusting ripping sounds, but otherwise appearing in good shape. I bet I’d get a long way toward my next Level if I healed something as big as them.

Humans were huge! How could they even move so quickly! Even a sock would be big enough for two Fairy outfits. Their armor was…poor. Either low quality from the beginning, or that fight was way harder than it looked at the end; Pel couldn’t tell. They were all somewhere between Level 20 and 30. Maybe their gear is just low Level? What’s low for Humans? Compared to the average Fairy, they were pretty low.

Shieldy was wearing the most metal, having greaves, gauntlets, bracers, and a very dented breastplate strapped on over a big padded shirt and pants. Or big, padded muscles. Blowhard and Bowman were both wearing leather armor, with Bowman’s having some patches of chainmail here and there. They all look ragged, though. Maybe they’re out here hunting the Panther to sell the skin? It seemed like a lot of effort to come this far into the forest for one panther. Why are they so far into the forest, and why so far to the northwest?

Pel was stalling. To heal, or not to heal. What would he do if he left The Mother Tree? Where would he go? How would he get there? He was in the middle of the forest and the only survivable option was to go back ‘home’. He found some Humans who didn’t seem like a danger to The Mother Tree, could he take a chance with them? Am I ready to just…go back? His mental freedom was likely on the line here. He couldn’t outright hate it, even knowing it was happening. It was nice. But in a scary way, now that he was outside The Mother Tree’s influence. His friends were there. His questionable mentor, too. And Hugo’s food. But out here, there was everything else. He could be Pel out here, and not just Apple. Although, he was actually starting to like that nickname. Which was another fright all on its own.

Realistically, the only way I can leave is to go with these guys. I can’t survive on my own. Not yet. Pel made up his mind. He changed back into his normal form, clothes still a bit damp, and slowly flew down into the clearing. Blowhard noticed him first, turning to look over his shoulder from where Bowman was using a small, curved knife to cut into the panther with gross tearing sounds. He loudly said some words to the others which caused them to turn and look as well.

Pel waved and smiled, wondering how exactly he could communicate with people speaking a different language. The men stared back at him silently, standing shoulder to shoulder and not making any moves. Shieldy had his hand resting on the pommel of his short sword, but that was as close to threatening as the group got.

“Erm, fine night for a monster hunt, eh?” Pel said awkwardly. Bowman tilted his head at Pel’s words, Blowhard stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around, and Shieldy simply shrugged his shoulders. Right, no way they’d understand Fairese.

“Does anyone speak English?” Pel tried, the words feeling strange and chunky. Bowman and Blowhard both looked to Shieldy who looked thoughtful for several moments before shaking his head.

“Ees vaes neet,” Shieldy said with a shrug. “Keet vee a hener, en ees ehmal tohten aba.”

Well shit. So much for English. Pel flew slightly closer, stopping only two meters away. They’re even bigger than I thought. Seeing them from the trees was deceiving. I can’t believe I used to be so huge and didn’t even know it. They also smelled awful, and he had to suppress the urge to crinkle his nose. Like stale sweat and teenagers who haven’t discovered deodorant. All out of language ideas, Pel fell back on the oldest method he could think of; charades. He pointed to Blowhard, and then at his own left hand. He pointed to Shieldy, then at his own right leg. He then pointed to himself, then at Blowhard, then back to his left hand, rubbed it a couple times and then made a few fists with his hand and acted like it was strong. I hope this works, otherwise I look stupid.

The men looked at each other, whispering none too quietly as they debated the meaning of Pel’s actions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dale POV ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Whadda you s’pose that means, boss?” Dale asked. Never knew Fairies were so cute. Hard to believe the tales ‘ol Gran told me as a kid.

“It pointed to our obvious injuries,” George said slowly, thinking things through.

“What language was that?” Ken asked, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like the way it made a fist at me.”

“I think it’s offering to heal us,” George concluded. “Or threatening us with our weaknesses.”

“Think it’s got some potions stashed ‘round here someplace?” Dale asked. “Got some Fairy potions down south o’ the forest once. Bloody delicious, they were.” Way better than what ya get at the regular alchemist’s, he thought to himself.

“Why would a Fairy offer to heal a Human?” Ken asked.

“No idea,” George replied, “but if that’s what it is saying, might be a good idea. It’s a long walk back to the cart. Even longer if something got the horses already.”

Dale looked back at the Fairy, still flying at head height. Why’s it look damp? Hair the color of golden wheat stuck out messily like it had taken a bath recently. Its eyes were a little intimidating, like looking into a black crucible holding molten gold. They look kind, though. It’s hard to smile with the eyes when you don’t mean it.

“Well, let’s see what it wants. Dale, be ready to throw the glitter bomb,” George ordered, nodding toward the Fairy and gesturing for it to do something. Dale surreptitiously ran a finger over one of the pouches on his belt, hiding the action as he wiped the skinning knife on his thigh and sheathed it.

The Fairy looked relieved, glancing quickly around the clearing before pointing to a shin high, grey rock near the shadowy tree line opposite the dead Shadow Panther. It crossed the intervening 20 feet in less than a second, causing Ken to jump slightly. That’s dangerous speed. I don’t think any of us could stop it. Maybe George with a [Taunt], but only maybe. The Fairy gestured to the rock, pointed at George, pointed at the rock again, then sat on it while it patted the top.

“Ken, go sit on the rock,” George said.

“Fuck no, you go sit on the rock,” Ken muttered back. “You have a scratch on your calf, but I can walk back to the trail with this hand just fine.”

George grunted in disapproval, giving Ken a dirty look that practically shouted ‘coward’. Dale could tell he was angry being talked back to like that since George just shook his head and walked across the clearing. If he was shouting and swearing it wasn’t bad, but not talking at all…

The Fairy cleared the rock as George approached and took a seat. It flew toward his leg before quickly backing away in surprise. It pointed to its own shin, and mimed taking something off and throwing it away. Iron. It doesn’t like the armor. At least those stories are true. Guess the glitter bomb will work, Dale thought as George undid the straps behind his leg and removed his right greave. He slid his chausses up to his knee, revealing two finger-length gashes running horizontally across the back of his calf.

The Fairy approached once more, looking at the wound. It glanced up to George and pointed, tilting its head to the side as if asking permission. George nodded to the Fairy, watching it with curiosity. It looked back at the wound and reached out a hand. A moment later a soft golden glow surrounded its hand, looking like it was holding a tiny sunset, which it then pressed next to George’s wound.

George let out a strange moan, a sound Dale never thought he’d hear from a man. Relief washed over George’s face, and he closed his eyes.

“Oooh, this is fucking nice! Like a hot cider in a comfy chair by the fire,” George commented.

“What kind o’ Fairy is a healin’ Fairy?” Dale wondered aloud.

“My money’s on Sun Fairy,” Ken bet. “Think about it, the sun gives plants life.”

“Sure, but boss ain’t a plant,” Dale countered. “How about a Holy Fairy? Or a Church Fairy? I saw a priest heal a man once, looked kinda similar.”

Within ten seconds the Fairy was finished, backing away from George with a smile. George reached around his leg, thumbing the spot where the wound had previously been.

“Not even a scar,” he mentioned. “Ken, come get your hand healed. If you refuse, I’ll fucking cut it off, and then we’ll see if the Fairy can heal that.”

Dale heard Ken mutter something about ‘bloody abuse’, but he walked across the clearing all the same and handed George the torch. Ken took a seat on the rock, leaning away when the Fairy landed on his knee and pointed to his hand. He reluctantly offered his hand to the Fairy while trying to keep his distance at the same time.

“Might not be able to hit it with my blowgun, but I bet I could grab ‘em before it knew what was happening,” Ken said as the Fairy’s hand began to glow again.

“You fucking better not,” George said, shoving the handle of the torch into the dirt and walking to the large satchel thrown carelessly against a tree. He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a small Spatial Pouch. “Dale, finish skinning that panther, we’ll need to leave quickly. I know exactly what kind of Fairy that is.”

“Oooh, yea. That’s the stuff,” Ken moaned. “You weren’t joking, this feels great! Is this a heal with a pain relief element? It doesn’t itch at all!”

“What kinda Fairy is it?” Dale asked over Ken.

“A Money Fairy,” George replied with a smile, pulling a lantern from the Spatial Pouch.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pel POV ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pel thought things were going great so far. His first encounter with iron was rather disconcerting; how could something feel both cold and hot at the same time? But his first encounter with Humans was turning out to be rather pleasant; still, aside from the smell. Shieldy’s wound cost more Mana that any other wound I’ve ever healed. Blowhard’s hand, though… Looking at the hand he could tell that he probably couldn’t heal the whole thing with how much Mana he had left.

Just those two cuts were over 70 Mana, I’m pretty sure I can see muscle and bone through this one. Can my Skill even heal something this bad? His Skill description specifically mentioned ‘light wounds’; he hoped it would at least make more serious wounds less serious. Pel activated [Gentle Touch] once more and placed his hand carefully over the ragged flesh ribbons on the back of Blowhard’s hand. The Humans were talking jovially about something when his Mana began to drain into the Skill causing Blowhard let out a moan similar to Shieldy’s, which made Pel smile. Hearing these rough looking guys sound like that is almost enough to make me laugh!

Pel could hear the tearing and ripping sounds start up again from behind as presumably Bowman resumed skinning the panther. Pel watched in fascination as the skin and flesh of Blowhard’s wound slowly, very slowly, began to close up under the light of his Skill. Until tonight, the only wounds he’d healed were bruises and small scrapes. Watching an open injury like this put itself back together was fascinating. The transfer of his Mana into the healing effect of the Skill was still a sucking tide he had to throttle back, but it was getting easier as he Leveled up. Either the Clarity, or the Willpower. Maybe both?

Pel could feel his Mana in the Skill outside of his body as it rapidly passed through the light before making contact with Blowhard. As the Mana disappeared from his awareness, small amounts of new tissue formed around the edges of the wound. It was less like watching the wound reverse through time, and more like watching it get filled in with a flesh pen. Pel kept an eye on his Mana, after Shieldy he still had 200 to go before empty. He’d never channeled the Skill for so long at once before, and not only was a headache forming the lower his Mana got, but his Pathway was beginning to ache as well.

At 25 Mana Pel had to stop, cutting off the Skill and closing his hand. He plopped onto his butt atop Blowhard’s knee and blew out a breath. The wound was nearly closed, just a few small lines the width of two of Pel’s fingers and the length of his arm were still open in the skin that hadn’t healed yet. Bowman said something while inspecting his hand, and Pel held up a finger to give him a gesture as if to say ‘give me a few minutes’. My Pathway for this Skill feels like a muscle that did too many curls. Pel could feel that he wouldn’t be able to use his Skill again right now even if he tried. Maybe even if he waited for his regular cooldown period to pass. It was tender like a sunburn, and felt weak to his mind.

Pel had learned something new about Skills. Just because his could be channeled forever, didn’t mean we was capable of doing so. If I can rest for ten to fifteen minutes, I’ll give it anoth-

An icy hot hand closed around Pel’s entire body from behind. He felt his wings melt at its touch an instant before it seared across his upper back; giant fingers clamped across his body like burning bands. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed like a man on fire as the air was driven from his faux lungs, futilely trying to turn into a mote. He’d never imagined pain could feel like this. It hurt more than just his body; his mind was searing white hot too.

Seconds later the hand released him, tossing him violently into a wooden post which bent his back painfully. He landed on his side on a floor which felt like laying in one of Hugo’s frying pans. Still screaming with empty lungs, Pel pushed off the floor on burning hands, opening he eyes once more as a loud clang came from behind him. The floor was shiny metal, reflecting his own tortured appearance. His skin was red and starting to blister, and his hair appeared to have been burnt short in places.

Pel frantically looked for any escape, but three walls of green tinted glass and a fourth of shiny metal blocked every direction. He turned back to the post he struck when he was thrown into this Fairy oven; the wooden post. Pel hugged it like a literally lifebuoy in a sea of fire, wrapping his arms and legs around it to pull himself from the metal floor. Instantly the pain he felt diminished from ‘just kill me now’, to ‘sitting a little to close to the campfire’.

He shimmied upward on the post, reaching the top which flared outward like a golf tee. Mote. He turned into a mote, thoughts of flying upward to escape spurring him on, except the ceiling was also metal. He flew toward the glass, but that started to burn and he could feel his mote form wavering, nearly cancelling on its own.

“Fuck! Let me out!” Pel shouted as loudly as he could, pain and panic making him sound hoarse. He returned to the wooden post, finding the top to be cupped like a shallow bowl. He flew into it, as far from any of the iron as he could get.

“Who the fuck has ever heard of iron glass! Let me out!” The proximity of the iron around him was still uncomfortable, but closer to standing under the sun and knowing you were going to be burned later rather than the actual burning of earlier.

His felt Health critically low, looking at the Party- There was no Party interface, all the names had vanished. He opened his Self Help interface, confirming he only had 12 of 50 Health. Just a few short seconds of exposure to iron had nearly killed him. He looked angrily out of the glass at the giant, leering face of Shieldy watching him from the other side like someone who just found a nugget of gold.

Shieldy looked away and shouted muffled orders to the other two Humans as he walked across the clearing carrying Pel’s personal hell with him. The landscape bobbed past the glass windows, and despite the dire situation Pel couldn’t help but at least be slightly grateful that he didn’t get motion sick. And grateful that despite this turn of events, I'll be well guarded on they way through the forest.