The uekisheile was a curious creature, quite literally. For a solid hour, I did nothing but reflect back to them their curiosity, puzzlement, and intrigue. Imagine a puppy finding a mirror for the first time--that’s what it felt like. And now imagine the puppy’s surprise when their reflection in the mirror does something different.

I had to show the uekisheile that I was more than a toy. They tended toward three-tone bundles of emotions and mental states, so I started by reversing the tones. Curiosity-expectation-eagerness became eagerness-expectation-curiosity.

Then after a round of three bundles, I changed the order, from 3-2-1 to 2-1-3. A round after that, I switched to 1-3-2. Then back to 3-2-1 after another round. Essentially, for every round of three bundles, I rotated the sequence by one.

The uekisheile’s surprise gave way to delight. They began varying their tones in order to hear what would happen, and quickly picked up on the pattern. I knew, because they started mimicking me; radiating the tones along with me, like we were singing together.

We quickly fell into using the same three tones over and over again though. It was time for another change, so at the beginning of the next round, I replaced one of the old tones with a new one. The uekisheile was confused at first, but quickly understood what was happening.

It was a game: at the top of the round, the first bundle was a call and response, while the following two were sung together. We went through three rounds before I changed the rules once more: where I would normally call the new bundle, I was silent. Instead, I carefully and gently nudged the uekishelie with my qi.

Surprise-delight-suspicion.

I responded to their call with, surprise-delight-suspicion.

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the uekishelie repeated the bundle, and I made sure to sing along with them. The game was on again, except it was now their responsibility to call for three rounds. Then, once their turn was done, the uekishelie carefully and gently nudged me.

I smiled with relief. They got it! They understood the game’s rules. Did they also understand they were interacting with another player? I hoped so. That was my aim after all.

We played the game for an hour before I worked up the courage to talk to the uekishelie. When my turn came up next, I radiated, gratitude-fun-fun.

The uekishelie thought it was another variation of the game. They responded with gratitude-fun-fun.

I offered, welcome-friend-welcome.

The uekisheile’s qi stumbled. Confusion-confusion-disorientation.

I took a deep breath and strung together a sequence of, Comfort-relaxation-welcome. Curiosity-questioning-hunger. Hunger-satiation-action. Patience-patience-patience.

Working quickly, I shot a brown bat with my bow and dressed it. I nudged the uekisheile. Welcome-hunger-satiation.

The uekisheile repeated my tones with a questioning bent to them. Their qi began to spin, but I couldn’t catch every tone. There were glimpses of the tones I shared during the game--peacefulness, friendship, ease, and whatever else I thought would be helpful. My qi nudged the uekisheile again; directing them down my arms.

Cautiously, the lichen’s tufts appeared on the tops of my hands. They found the dead bat ready for them. Hunger-satiation-satiation? It was clearly a question, and a question directed at me, which only confused the uekisheile more. To whom were they communicating?

My sense was that prior to meeting me, the uekisheile understood themselves to be the only intelligent being in their universe. How strange then to find themselves not alone. How disconcerting.

Suddenly, the uekisheile was on high alert. The tufts disappeared into me, leaving the bat untouched. All their qi retreated to their main body in my heart dantian. I radiated peace-peace-peace, but that only made them more uneasy.

I watched as the uekisheile’s qi rippled, like there were explosions under the surface. Is this what an epiphany looked like? I hoped so. I very much hoped so.

The qi around the uekisheile’s body thickened into the walls of a fortress. I couldn’t sense their tones anymore. They sat like a weight on my heart. Time passed, and I waited with bated breath. I always thought that was just an expression, but it was true--I had to remind myself to keep breathing.

Eventually, tendrils of qi poked out of the fortress to scout the situation. The uekisheile’s curiosity won out over their caution.

I offered, welcome-peace-friendship.

Caution-curiosity-question, they replied.

“My name’s Ol--Eight. It’s Eight,” I said. Well, the words didn’t matter. More importantly, I radiated what it felt like to be me; the sense of self I experienced in deep meditation.

Caution-curiosity-wonder. The uekisheile surprised themselves, as they’d never experienced wonder before. Wonder-wonder-wonder. They were dazed by the new emotion.

I let go of the breath I was holding. They didn’t attack, they didn’t eat my qi, and they could feel wonder. We’d be able to work something out, I was sure of it.

###

It was a painstaking process, tentative on both sides, but we were able to communicate. Taking turns, we expressed a desire, and then the other would react to it, either positively or negatively. That way, over time, we built up an understanding of wants, needs, and boundaries. The boundaries were tough to explain at first, but the uekisheile was a fast learner. They were a genius among lichen.

The uekisheile, unsurprisingly, wanted a warm and cozy environment full of fast, condensed qi; some of which would be eaten. As for me, I wanted their help in developing my qi, both in its speed and density. The only limitation I placed was on the amount of qi that could be eaten.

During the negotiations, my life was never one of the bargaining chips. The uekisheile didn’t realize it could be one, and I wasn’t going to be the one to educate them about effective bargaining. I’ll take whatever advantages I can get, thank you very much.

Eventually, our mutual understanding was:

We should work hard to make sure I don’t die, because then the cozy, delicious qi would stop. The uekisheile could stay and enjoy the cozy, delicious qi. But not too much, because then I would die, and the cozy, delicious qi would stop. See point number one. Qi was even cozier and more delicious if we worked together to condense it.

Effectively, I became a qi farm for a hyper-intelligent colony of lichen, but hey, it beat being dead. And there were benefits. Like, really good benefits:

Now that I wasn’t fighting it, the uekisheile could circulate my energies for me, which in turn let me effectively “meditate” while I was doing other stuff. And when I actively meditated, I now had the choice of: Condensing qi into a more compressed state. Or speeding up the recovery rate even more.

All of the above in exchange for a few points of qi day? That was a deal. And if, in the back of my mind, I was still freaking out about an alien invader residing in my body, the uekisheile fortunately didn’t notice.

By the time the uekisheile and I were done talking, I was hungry again. Fortunately, I had a bat dressed and ready to be grilled. While the uekisheile ate the qi, I used the last of my old spear for firewood.

Hit Points 7/10 Mana 11/18 Qi 8/13 Conditions Occupied (Truce)

It occurred to me that I was now a mobile home. I was also mentally and emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was to get out into the sunlight again, but I held off until I was healed and rested. It took two casts of Healing Water to bring me back to full Hit Points, and four hours of meditation to fully recover my magical energies. (Without the uekisheile’s help, it would’ve taken almost eight.)

I picked up my new spear and made my way back to the Red Room. The chamber was dark. Night had fallen, and there wasn’t even a sliver of moonlight. Instead, water fell in thin streams from the chimneys in the ceiling. Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing strangely. It sounded like the cave growled.

The eilesheile leaned away from me when I walked toward the room’s other exit. It could’ve been my imagination--there was a breeze--but I didn’t think so. No, I was sure. They were afraid of me--or more likely, my passenger. As a test, I walked among them, and the eilesheile recoiled.

“Huh.”

Inside, the uekisheile didn’t react. They were happily soaking in my heart dantian, like it was a spa. My mind spun at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but all I did was shake my head and keep going. If I’d let every confusing and strange situation on this world stop me, I’d have been dead the first day. It was with that thought that I entered the next tunnel. (I’d decided the chimney was too narrow and slick to climb.)

The tunnel was wide and flat, and I had to stoop to continue. The stalagmites and stalactites were so close, they looked like teeth. The breeze was stronger here, flowing between the gaps. It carried with it a pungent scent, musky and manure-like.

Hope for an exit and fear of the Murder Cat mingled in me, which apparently caught my passenger’s interest. I felt their confusion. I was at a loss, though, at how to convey threat without seeming to threaten the uekisheile. I tried feeling threatened, and that must’ve worked, because tufts of fuschia lichen sprouted on my face, neck, and hands--the exposed parts of my skin.

They expressed, defend-delicious-satiation, and urged me onward.

“Holy smokes, I really am a mobile home.”

Impatience-hunger-hunger.

Ah, so they really just wanted to eat again. “Okay, okay. I’m going. I’m going.”

The tunnel opened onto a chamber about the size of a small house. The scent was stronger here, and I found another pile of scat in the corner. Cautiously, I kept going, spear at the ready.

The path sloped up in a natural spiral. Long fingers of stalactites reached down its center, and rivulets of water flowed along them. There must’ve been another entry for the rain somewhere ahead or above. The water made the stone slippery, and on another day, in another world, I would’ve slid down the spiral for fun.

I loosened my deathgrip on the spear. “Easy now,” I whispered.

The spiral continued for another fifteen yards. At the top was another small chamber. The floor here was pitted with holes, some only a foot deep, others deep enough for me to fit into. The more shallow ones were already filling up with water. I cupped some to sniff, and it smelled clean. Rainwater for sure.

Two exits led out of the room. One sloped back down and quickly ran into a dead end. The other continued to up, and with every step, my heart beat with more hope and more dread. Ah, the breeze suddenly carried with it the scent of electricity in the air. Under it, was the pungent smell of the big cat.

I cupped the Candle Stone with one hand to limit its light to a narrow beam. My feet tread softly, as I crept forward. Ten yards and a hundred years later, I found another small chamber. At the far end, a Murder Cat slumbered, framed by an opening to the world outside. Lightning flashed, illuminating the creature. I quickly put the stone inside my shirt.

It was the size and color of a mountain lion, with thick, hunched shoulders from which five furred tentacles grew. At the end of each tentacle was a dark razor. The cat slept on a dry mound to the right of the entrance. The rest of the floor was slick with rainwater.

I considered trying to sneak past, but the uekisheile had a different plan in mind. Excitement-hunger-anticipation. Hunger-hunger-satiation.

Well, they were probably right. Even with at one with the land, I didn’t think stealthing past was an option. I stunk to high heaven, and once I was near the cave’s exit, the Murder Cat would scent me for sure.

Chliapp Lion Talents: Sharp, Lazy, Opportunistic

Nascent: ???

For now, I put aside the question of how Lazy could be a Talent. I needed a plan.The creature outweighed and outmuscled me. I had more reach with the spear, but not by much, not with its tentacles. I put my odds at winning a direct confrontation at nearly nil. I might surprise it with a Cold Snap or Anesthetic, but neither spell would stack the deck enough in my favor. If only this really were a game, it’d be a perfect opportunity for a stealth kill.

Wait. Maybe there was a way to do it. I looked over the route--the floor was stone, with nothing that might crunch under my feet. The cave echoed with the roar of the storm and the tinkling of water as it streamed past the cat. Even the wind worked in my favor, sucked down into the tunnel like a breath into lungs. As long as I stayed behind the lion, I should be able to get close.

I can do it, I thought, and the boundary between fear and excitement blurred. I carefully set my spear down and drew both stilettos. I gently stretched one foot out to step onto the dry section of the chamber and eased onto the elevated stone.

Step-by-step, I crept closer. I didn’t let the tufts of fuschia lichen sprouting from the backs of my hands distract me. All my attention was on moving silently towards the chliapp lion. I was about ten yards away, every nerve on edge, when suddenly it hit me what I was about to do--that I was sneaking up on a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, razors, and death--and the insanity of it just stopped me. I froze.

I’d had run ins with mountain lions and bears in the backwoods, but back on my old world, none of us wanted to fight. All we wanted was to avoid the scary thing we’d come across and go back to what we were doing, whether that was hiking, searching for game, or fishing up some delicious berries or salmon.

It was strange, but in that moment--sneaking up behind the chliapp lion, so that I could stab it with stilettos made from the spikes of parasites I’d found in a waist high pile of dragon poop--that it fully hit me that I was living in another world. And that it’d force me to do things that would otherwise terrify me.

I’d committed before to living in this new world, but there was a part of me that continued to cling to the ideas and memories of the old one. I slowly acclimated and furiously trained, but something held me back. Fear? The animal inside fighting to hold onto the safety and comfort of my old world?

Even if I hid myself away in Ikfael Glen for the rest of my life, that wouldn’t be enough. Trouble came to the glen twice over. There was no avoiding it. And if that was true, then it’d be better to meet it head on. Or in this case, sneak up on it in the dark and stab it in the back.

And so in that moment--as thunder crashed outside and the lion stirred, as my heart jumped in my chest and the lion re-settled into sleep--something changed in me. I’d held on, unconsciously, to my old life, but that wouldn’t be enough. To survive, to thrive, I’d have to embrace this world and the life it brought with it.

Of course this world would change me. How could it not? I’d been an immigrant before. I knew the process. Whether you want to or not, the world changes you, shapes you, and molds you. Even the act of holding on is a change in and of itself.

This was old territory, the thoughts well worn, so the epiphany unfolded quickly, blossoming through me in a visceral understanding of myself and the situation in which I’d found myself. Fear was and would forever be my enemy. And just as in my past life, I’d do everything in my power to spike it through the heart. To embrace the life it hid from me. To hold onto the hope of something better.

Yes, on the cusp of danger and death, I realized I was afraid of losing my old life. And I realized that I needed to let it go if I wanted to live my new one.

It was an impossibility to begin with--my old life was gone, and so was my old world. The important things that mattered--Helen, Alex, and Daniel-- I’d carry with me in my heart. Just like I carried my grandparents in my heart after they died. How I even carried my parents (and their baggage) with me too.

I took a slow quiet breath, and blinked the thoughts away. I became one with the land. I was terrified. I was focused. I was a mobile home. I was Ollie, but I was also Eight. I would survive. I would embrace the life offered to me and stepped toward the lion.

The ears were still, as was the tail. There was a soft whirring sound, as it breathed steadily in and out. The hilts of the stilettos were rough. I was glad of it, as I was afraid they’d otherwise slip from my hands. My palms were so sweaty. My back soaked. Carefully, I wiped my eyes clear.

With each step, the tension wound through me tighter and tighter. I needed to focus on my footing, so I didn’t bring to mind the Anesthetic rune till I was just within reach of the lion. There was a two-foot gap between the creature and the cave wall. I siddled in between to better reach its torso. I briefly considered stabbing it in the neck, but the tentacles lay all around like sleeping snakes. There was no way to get close to the lion’s head and upper torso without stepping on one.

The cool energy of the Anesthetic spell flowed through me and into the area around the gutsack. Just in case, I also enchanted the stilettos. Gently, slowly, I stuck the stilettos into the lion.

I worried about the ruffled fur disturbing the lion’s sleep, but the Anesthetic dulled its sense of touch, as well as the pain. I slid the weapons in and out, blood following in a stream. In and out. In and out.

Using different angles, I stabbed the lion six or eight times. I was so focused, I wasn’t sure of the number. It was like being at an award ceremony, and you give your speech, but you don’t remember what you said or how you said it.

The last stab I left inside its body. The chliapp lion stirred, uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to risk further disturbing it. I eased away, and snuck back toward the tunnel.

Back in my hiding place, I watched as the lion slowly bled out. The lazy thing never woke up once, and when it stopped breathing, I nearly fell over from the release of tension. Still, I was careful and waited for another twenty minutes to be sure. I prodded the lion with my spear, but it was dead, good and truly so.

I thanked the gods. I thanked Helen. I thanked everyone and everything that led to the me that was me; to the me that had the wherewithal to survive an encounter with a chliapp lion. I was on my knees, inundated with gratitude, when the uekisheile prodded me with a question. There was no actual question though, just the intent of one.

“Yes, I’m here.” I shaped the tone-bundles along with the words. My hope was that they’d eventually learn to understand me.

Gratitude-question-wonder. Question-many-wonder.

“The world is full of people,” I said, sitting back. “Some good, some bad, but most a mix of the two. Do you know good and bad? I can’t imagine that you do.”

Hunger-satiation-coziness. Fear-threat-danger.

“It can be that simple, I suppose, but things get pretty murky once you start working your way up into higher orders of thinking. Intelligence can be a wonderful rationalization for all kinds of horrible actions.” I paused, at a loss for how to convey that thought. Then I realized I was having a conversation about moral grey zones with a lichen. “Maybe stick to simpler topics, eh, Ollie?”

Confusion-confusion-confusion.

“Sorry, that was my fault. I’m just hungry for company.

The uekisheile paused as they chewed on that idea. Their qi formed and reformed with their thoughts, each one unguarded. I watched as they realized for the first time in their existence that they were lonely.

Fear-threat-loneliness. Hunger-desire-company.

The uekisheile hadn’t known loneliness before. I taught it to them, and a spike of guilt ran through me. Worse, a part of me wondered at how I can use that loneliness to benefit me. It was like I was a teenager again, and I hated being a teenager.

Confusion-alarm-threat.

I took a breath to settle my thoughts. “Sorry. Sorry. That wasn’t aimed at you. It was a memory of things that happened long before.”

Action-reaction-pattern.

The idea bubbling up from the uekisheile was surprisingly complicated; of patterns repeated over time, like day and night alternating. No wonder they so handily caught on to the game--they were used to experimenting with action and reaction to look for patterns.

The uekisheile thought, slowly working their way to a conclusion. Action-loneliness. Reaction-company. Pattern... The qi trailed off, as they didn’t know how to fill the loneliness.

The uekisheile reminded me of a stray knowing nothing but the streets; their eyes full of longing upon being found, of hope and fear mingled together. Dogs can be incredibly loyal and sweet, or they can be ugly and vicious. It all depends on how they’re treated. Are they family or are they tools to instill fear in others?

Helen and I adopted several dogs, and they’d been nothing but loyal. They were family, after all. My emotions and memories must’ve leaked, because the uekisheile’s qi flared, similar to when they realized I was a person. The waves of epiphany rolled from their qi body into me, like the waves to the shore.

Action-loneliness. Reaction-company. Pattern-family. Pattern-family. Pattern….love. The unfamiliar emotion confused the uekisheile. Curiousity-curiousity-love. Anxiety-curiosity-love.

“I don’t even…”

The way I’d been communicating was by connecting my emotions, thoughts, and intent to my qi. For me to talk about love was to talk about Helen, Alex, and Daniel, and the message wouldn’t be filtered by words. The uekisheile would have a front row seat on the raw emotions. My raw emotions.

Curiousity-curiousity-curiousity. There was such longing in their request.

“Okay, okay, just hold on. Let me think for a moment.”

Curiousity-curiousity-curiousity. Love-love-love. The uekisheile’s enthusiasm for the topic grew. Their qi wagged like a tail. It was that pure.

And that’s when I realized there was no artifice in the uekisheile. No sense of threat. Yes, they could kill me from the inside, but there was no hint that such a thing would ever happen. If anything, I was a treasure they’d found, a place of cozy, delicious wonder.

It was weird to have another being inside your body, but it was also an opportunity. Already, I felt my magical energies recovering as a result of the uekisheile’s help. And there was the qi condensation too--I didn’t know it for sure, but I strongly sensed that if I continued along that path, my qi body would grow stronger.

The uekisheile waited for me with puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, damn it, all right.”

It must’ve sensed my acquiescence because the qi wagged even harder. Curiousity-curiousity-curiousity. Love-love-love.

“Just let me get the gutsack out, and then we’ll talk.”

It was cold enough that I didn’t have to worry about the meat going bad, but the gutsack had to come out as soon as possible. It was a bloody, messy affair with all the puncture wounds, but I worked quickly. Once that was done, I stepped to the entrance to at least wash my hands clean. The rest of me would have to wait till I was somewhere warmer.

The rain fell in sheets, making it impossible to see anything beyond fifty yards. I seemed to be high up in the escarpment though, with a narrow path to the left leading up. The stone ran slick with the rainwater. Lightning flashed, and its thunder rumbled through me. I tossed the mangled gutsack over the side.

The uekisheile was curious about the lightning and thunder, but was undeterred. They knew about patience. Well, and so did I. There’d be no leaving the cave till the rain stopped anyway.. I found a dry spot by the entrance to watch the lightning, sat down, and started telling stories, vignettes of the life I’d lived with the ones I’d loved. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to the stories; no order to speak of. The narrative was less important than the feelings.

I didn’t want to sugarcoat love and friendship, so I made sure the stories weren’t all pleasant.. There were bitter moments too in my relationships with my wife and children, and certainly no end of pain. Someone once said that you only feel as much love as you’re willing to feel pain. I’ve found that to be true.

The uekisheile curled around themselves. Occasionally, their qi burbled in response, but mostly they just listened to my feelings. Eventually, the sun came up, but the rain continued to pour down, drenching the forest below.

I drank rainwater to ease my throat and kept talking, until I got to the point where there weren’t any more important stories except for Helen’s cancer. I’d avoided it all night, but as the pool of stories got smaller and smaller, the story of her death got bigger and bigger. Big enough that it was all that was left inside me, a stone blocking my throat from continuing.

Bitter-sweet-love. Lonely-lonely-pain.

My throat wasn’t big enough for the stone. I didn’t know if it’d ever be. Sure, I’d told the story before to family and close friends, but never to myself, and that’s what it felt like in that moment. That I was telling the story to myself, as well as the uekisheile. The unadorned story. The unfiltered story. The real story of just how much of myself I lost when Helen died.

Lonely-bitter-pain. Love-love-love.

And bless them, the uekisheile tried to comfort me. I couldn’t help myself--I laughed when they offered to replace Helen with themselves in my feelings. I’d never been proposed to by a colony of lichen before.

With a sad grin, I shared my gratitude with them, but declined. We would start with friendship. Yes, we could do that. And then maybe one day, family. I’d be able to share the story with them then. With them and myself.

By midday, the rain finally started to let up. I rubbed my face to wake up from the strange dream-like state I’d been in while telling my stories. I realized that I was starving, but I didn’t have any wood for a fire. I wasn’t willing to eat lion meat raw either. My fear of parasites hadn’t gone away, which was ironic given the uekisheile inside me. But then, it wasn’t a parasite, was it? It was a symbiote now.

Speaking of which, they were hungry too. I brought us back to the chliapp lion and put my hand into the gut cavity. “Go ahead. Eat your fill.”

A part of the uekisheile sprouted along my hand and disappeared into the body. I felt their qi spread; hunting along the meridians to search for the major qi structures. The lion appeared to have three dantian: one in the head, one in the chest, and a smaller one in the hunch of its back where the tentacles emerged. All three lit up at once when the uekisheile ate its qi. I also caught sight of the thicker meridians, but not enough to understand how the qi flowed through the lion’s body.

The uekisheile’s tufts emerged from the wound satisfied and reabsorbed into me. It was a sight I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to.

Since I was at the lion, I collected the claws and started skinning it. The fur was heavily damaged where I’d stabbed it, but the upper body was free of cuts. The work was good for settling my mind and emotions. It’d been a roller coaster of a night and day.

Fur off, I reached for the core and found it missing. The uekisheile--that little forker--they ate the lion’s silverlight.