Chapter 125

Sticky Hands.

Thrush

When I glimpsed the goblin fleet in the distance, I left the sea and entered the wilderness. I could smell Hawkin. BarnacleEyes. Beer on the ground.

I trudged through a short marsh of cattails. When I came out of the marsh, I passed through spiny leaf thistles and shook the water from my paws.

I sniffed. Listened. Heard a poor creature yelling in the forest. Like it was fighting with a growling beast. I followed that sound until I came upon a goblin wrestling with itself. Trying to scrape a black substance from its hands with the bottom of its large black boots. BarnacleEyes growled as she clawed the ground and tumbled about. Just a few feet from her stood Hawkin, rubbing his forehead as though a headache was coming on.

“BarnacleEyes,” I said.

The goblin shrieked and Hawkin fell into a defensive crouch.

Then altogether—”Thrush!”

BarnacleEyes charged me and gave me a great big hug. The edges of her eyes sparkled. Hawkin approached and we shook hands.

“Good to see you, my friend,” Hawkin said.

BarnacleEyes completed her hug and yanked off her sticky hands from my back.

“Thrush,” she wailed. “I got pine sap on my hands. A whole lot of it! It won’t come off! I touched that stupid tree over there!”

“You have to scrub it off,” Hawkin said. “It’s going to take some time.”

I asked for BarnacleEyes’ hands and licked the sap off. She giggled the whole time, tickled.

“That’s another way to do it,” Hawkin said.

He and I looked at each other for a moment. Considered the other.

“I got the cowbell roots,” he said. “Thank you, Thrush.” I nodded. “Come on,” Hawkin continued. “We’re heading back to the cabin. Tell us everything you’ve been up to.”

I began from the beginning of my adventure, but didn’t get too far before BarnacleEyes interrupted and began telling us everything she’d been through in my absence.

“How have deliveries been?” I said during one of her short lulls.

“Perfect,” she said. “They don’t mess with me. Everything’s been perfect.”

Every evening during our trek, like clockwork, BarnacleEyes ran out of steam. She was the first one to fall asleep, leaving Hawkin and I to ourselves around a small fire.

“Good to have you back,” Hawkin said one evening.

“Good to be back,” I said. “I miss my smoker.”

“I’ve got a lot of wood to lumber before winter. We can pick out some nice hardwoods for smoking if you’ll help me.”

“Sounds fair,” I said.

We talked for a while longer and Hawkin caught me up on everything. I was surprised to find the mist wall was almost complete.

“I’ll pour the last two libations,” I offered. “I’ll just walk through the orcs, all the way to the end of the port. They won’t bother me.”

“Sounds good to me,” Hawkin said. “BarnacleEyes and I were heading back to the cabin first. We can celebrate our reunion over some silver ranked beers, smoked fish, soups, and a great big bonfire.”

“I’ll provide the smoked fish,” I said.

After a moment—“I can’t believe it,” Hawkin said. “I can’t believe we’re going to put up a wall of mist. I never thought I’d be base building. I talked to BarnacleEyes about being the gatekeeper. She’ll keep most of the key beers. What do you think?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “It’s your base.”

“I’ll give you some key beers so you can come and go as you please.”

“Sounds good,” I said, “but I have a feeling I won’t need a key beer.”

“We tried walking through the Mist Hidden wall. Doesn’t work without a key beer.”

“I ran into someone a couple of weeks ago,” I said. “We fought against bandits. She was using beer to change the world. To slow things down.”

“Slow Time attribute,” Hawkin recognized.

“It didn’t work on me,” I said.

A moment of thought passed across Hawkin’s eyes. He perceptiply nodded at the shrinking fire.

Then he said, “Therefore you think the Mist Hidden attribute won’t affect you either.”

“In all my time,” I said, “Nothing has ever impeded me. I doubt the Mist Hidden attribute would either.”

Hawkin cursed and shook his head.

“You’re quite the mystery,” he said. “A terrifying mystery. And I guess we’ll see in the next few days, won’t we.”

I shared some dreambons with Hawkin. We ate in companionable silence until the fire had reduced to embers.

“Congratulations,” I said at last. “For reaching silver.”

“Yea, thanks. How’s your merchant class going?”

“Nearly silver as well. Mostly from pushing my Inventory Management skill. I’ve ignored almost all the quests that Merkul’s been offering me.”

“Your goal is still to store as much smoked fish in your pockets as possible?”

“That’s my purpose,” I said, smiling wide.

“I’ve bet you went out of your way to look for smoked fish along the way.”

“I didn’t go out of my way, but I did run into a bar that had smoked meats. The smoke the chef had been able to get was thick like an oak. I learned a lot from him. I was thinking about hunting large animals around here. Smoking more meats.”

“I’ll hunt with you,” Hawkin said. “I’ve got to stock up for the winter. I’m behind on that.”

I grunted in thought.

“I have to ask,” Hawkin said. “How did people respond when they met you. I figured you must have run into quite a bit of trouble.”

“People… treated me like one of their own,” I said. “I didn’t have too much trouble with that.”

“What was the worst part of your journey?”

“Being hungry. I had to manage my composition.”

“What was the best part?”

“Every time my Inventory Management skill leveled up. Those were my favorite moments.”

“What was your favorite place?”

“The sea. I got to catch a lot of fish.”

Our conversation continued on for most of the evening. We talked back and forth about meaningless things. We laughed. Spoke softly when BarnacleEyes shifted in her sleep. Then Hawkin tucked in for the night and I let the sounds of the forest fill my senses until dawn. I didn’t feel like sleeping.

BarnacleEyes woke first and she kicked Hawkin awake. Hawkin grumbled and rose to begin breaking down camp.

“How far until home?” BarnacleEyes said.

“Last day,” Hawkin said. “Thrush and I are planning a big celebration dinner.”

“Are we going to have spit beer? I love spit beer!”

“Absolutely,” Hawkin said. “Then we’re going to pour the last libations the very next day. Thrush is going to do the honors.”

“I’m so excited,” BarnacleEyes said. “It’s gonna be my port! I’m gonna take it. Write my name on it! That way it’s proof. Can I moor my boat there? Thrush you have to see my boat! It’s got a deck. It’s twelve barrels big now! I’m gonna make a mast and put a sail on it. Add another paddle. Couple bailing buckets. I’m going to…”

I chuckled as BarnacleEyes went on and we drew nearer to Hawkin’s cabin.