“To be strong does not mean to sprout muscles and flex. It means meeting one’s own numinosity without fleeing, actively living with the wild nature in one’s own way. It means to be able to learn, to be able to stand what we know. It means to stand and live.” — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Stupid Maxi. What does he know?

Sure she has a bad habit of trusting people at face value, but it’s a matter she was currently working through. And it got really hard to do, when the familiar scent in question was her favorite carolina reapers, a red pepper that goes so well paired with a gourmet chicken steak and red wine that tasted like black cherries and dark chocolate. The very scent had her drooling on the spot, the moment it hit she was no longer in control of her feet. The tasteful delight of the memory moved parts of her she didn’t know was susceptible, and to be honest it kind of scared her. These instinctual urges had never been a problem before, it must be due to the fact that she had been munching on the healer’s dry herbal rations for the last several days and the last thing she had eaten was a hard mix of travel rations chock full of nuts and dry berries. She would have killed just to eat something savory.

And carolina reapers had her heart taking control over her body because one way or another, she was going to eat one.

“Never seen anyone get excited by a devil‘s fruit.” Said Leon’ido, an elder from dark tribe who greeted her from behind a cash register. He saw her staring at a glass display box packed with multiple ornate locks. Inside it displayed carolina reapers, their skin gnarled like it was dehydrated free of moisture with bumpy textures and a small pointed tail at the bottom but the resemblance stopped there. Instead of having a saturated red color, it was tinged with a gradient of dark blue vanishing into green.

“Thanks for having me.” She nodded, pulling back the urge to bow in gratitude. It was becoming clear to her that she was really bad at hiding being a behagthi. She stared at the medicine bottles on the shelves for a solid second and uttered the coded message “Do you have the purple blossoms?”

“Yes,” he eagerly nodded “We had a fresh shipment come in earlier this morning but my back is so bad these days I’m afraid I hadn’t gotten to it yet. Will you mind it very much if I asked you to come and bring it from the back?” He said, pointing a thumb to a door behind him.

“No, I won’t. I’m happy to help.”

He gestured for her to pass through, a sly knowing grin barely coming across his face. Before going in, she glanced over her shoulder to watch the front door of the apothecary shop. Outside, the sun tribe strangers who blindfolded and helped show her the way coming here waved to her with equal mischievous smirks.

Pressing her lips together, she braved through the strange door in the back, passing through a long winding stairs towards the basement, a strong whiff of peppers growing stronger as she stepped down to the dimmed room. Lowlights flickered in the stuffy basement, the din of hushed murmurs stopped as she arrived. The gazes of dark tribespeople swiveling to her and she shrugged, appearing non-chalant about the sudden drop of silence “What does a girl have to do to get some devil’s fruit around here?”

A man leaning on his elbows over a gambling table uttered with a booming voice, “That depends. How many gold pieces you got?”

A howling of laughter thundered, drowning out her reply. Yet, someone stepped forward. A storm in her expression, “You are not invited. Who are you and how did you find us?”

“Sun tribespeople from the south. I’m told you wanted stories for entertainment, in exchange, I’d like a piece of devil’s fruit.”

“Do you mean that you haven’t gotten any cash to trade?”

A woman who was standing guard at the foot of the stairs had let out a rough groan, “Who let you in? Na’reem!”

A familiar face confidently stepped into the fray, wearing an apologetic smile “Someone must have made a grave mistake, this room is exclusive for mature games. Gambling games. Not for you, I’m afraid.” His gaze zeroed in on the scar stretched across her throat, “Is someone watching you? Better get to them quick before they notice you missing and get worried sick. Here, a bronze piece for your troubles. Remember discretion is key. Most people frown upon gambling but we aren’t doing anyone harm, teh? Now run along.”

“Wait! I got something to trade.” She blurt out, then worried over her bottom lip.

“Get her out of here” someone from the gambling table said, “We don’t got time for this.”

Nobody seemed interested so River huffed a breath and gambled with the next best thing she knew in this universe. “There is another behagthi that came around recently. I know where she is.”

A devilish smile quirked up the edges of Na’reem’s mouth, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she replied, attempting to spin a web of a story on the fly “That’s how I got this scar. Ruthless little buggers, aren’t they? Just when you think you caught one, they spring the nastiest claws to retaliate. Who would have thought behagthis could be so fierce?”

The woman guard who was dressed in a puffy sweater dress that went below the knees strapped with leather boots had begun growling, bloodlust in her eyes “Where exactly did you encounter this behagthi?”

River studied her nails under their dim basement lights with a humming exhale, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Na’reem cleared his throat, his expression masked with undisguised interest “Is there anything we can offer in exchange for this bountiful information?”

“Yes,” she nodded and began to pace around the crowded room. There were three connecting rooms divided by open archways but she didn’t bother and followed her nose. “I want that.” She said, once she reached the mantelpiece above their brickstone fireplace. It was the same display box from upstairs. Inside its glass walls sat a lonely carolina reaper waiting to be fried with cheesy iota and bacon crisps.

Na’reem laughed, a deep amused chuckle “You look like as if you might eat the damned fruit.”

River couldn’t help the wild-eyed startle that dawned on her face.

Na’reem’s easygoing grin dropped to a scowl, eyeing her with a squint. “Where is it that you said you saw a behagthi?

She pasted on a smile, taking in the crowd of tribespeople whose sole focus was on her “Do we have a deal?”

He rubbed his jaw with an open palm, the blacks of his eyes seeming to sparkle more spots of stars as though he was a thousand miles away.

She tipped her chin up, addressing everyone “Why don’t we make it interesting?”

Na’reem tilted his head as he took a few moments to consider, eyes growing hooded from his deep thoughts. “I’m listening.”

Suddenly, a raging breeze fluttered in like some numinous storm pushing away every objects in their near vicinity. River ducked down and covered when a gambling table slammed against the wall near her.

“WHERE IS SHE?” A man had burst in from the adjoining room on the left. A man dressed in silk robes and darkened leather pants. There was a frantic, crazed urgency in his face as he scoped around the space, searching. Grooves have formed between his brows, a menacing glint in his blown-black shark eyes. It was Me’ren. And the blacks of his eyes deepened to a stark pitch of shadows once he found her. “You are not supposed to be here. Get out.”

The crazed man looked as if he had just woke up from bed, his voice a dry husky growl that sounded close to an animal. She stood her ground, “I am supposed to be here because someone invited me. Otherwise how would I have known to use the secret code?”

He snarled, “We have no time for foolishness, beha—“ he stopped, pulling himself together. “Believe me, things will be worse for you if you don’t leave right away. Ylia!” At his side, appeared the woman who stood guard at the stairs. “Get her out.”

“I got something else to trade!” She blurted out. “It’s nothing like you have seen before. Ever.”

“I highly doubt that.” He nodded at Ylia to carry on.

River threw her hands up, “Are you sure you’re willing to pass up on this? You will never get another chance. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Once I’m gone, I’m gone. And you will have missed your chance to see something extraordinary.”

Na’reem basically bounced on his heels.

And Me’ren’s shoulders grew visibly rigid, “What do you want in exchange for it?”

“My offer still stands. I get a..” what was it the elder man called it? “—a devil’s fruit along with its rich history in exchange for an incredible once-in-a-lifetime spectacle.” She said with an upbeat cheer.

Their culinary blog had a habit of posting video content only once-in-a-month and when it finally comes around to making it, her roommates really get into it. Wild shenanigans would ensue. Usually, it was her behind the camera offering technical support.

She has never done this before. A room full of hardened workers and oracle scholars whose knowledge surpasses a sun tribe’s collected works in their museum library. They are leagues stronger than her in both body and intelligence.

By some last hail mary of hers, she wished that she could somehow embody the massive confidence behind her friends’ most asinine ideas. The success of their experimental cuisine art was testament to how much people are entertained by the most eccentric of tricks.

Ylia, the woman wearing a fine-woven sweater dress, long-sleeved and stitched with gray colors of fabric that went down to her ankles. When she moved, sharp glints of steel would shine from behind her clothing. River wondered how much weapons the woman was hiding. “And how, pray tell, did you come about this spectacular skill of yours?”

“Let’s say it was a survivalist upbringing in the Dumuzid forest. I’ve learned a few tricks or two.”

That sparked her interest. “Most surprising. Dumuzid forest is where puppy hunters go to train for years before they come back to sun village with a fully-formed hunter beast pacing inside their hearts. It’s nothing to sneeze at.”

She met her challenging stare. “There is more to what I have done during my time in that forest compared to what those hunters could have dreamed of accomplishing.” She shrugged, setting right a gambling table that’s been knocked off like it’s no trouble. “You’ll simply have to take your chances. Believe me, there is a good chance you might want to send letters to your loved ones about what I have to show you today. If you will let me, that is.”

“That good, huh?”

“You don’t want to miss it.” She bluffed. If it hadn’t been for weeks of arduous sensory torture then her heart rate would be racing like a horse in track. Stay cool, she thought to herself. Even out your pulse with deep breaths.

Not too deep.

Oh god, am I being too obvious?

Me’ren raised a brow in challenge, his arms crossed “I’ll do you one better. You show us this incredible spectacle you’re telling us and I’ll give you a whole box full of devil’s fruit. A crate of them. And if the show turns out to be underwhelming as fuck—“ he shrugged. “I’ll have Ylia escort you to the wildlands aboveground. Right at the center where the Girnya flowers grow.”

Everyone gasped at that, and she tried not to look too ignorant about what the hell that was. Even if she has no idea what a Girnya flower is. “Tragic.” Her tone dripping in irony. “There is absolutely no need of that. I’m amazing.”

A vein pumped besides Me’ren’s temple. Before he could say anything, Na’reem rushed ahead straight down the middle between them and said “You got yourself a deal.”

“Good.” Clearing her throat, “How about you show me yours before I show you mine?”

Na’reem gave a full-on megawatts grin that slowed her brain functions for a bit before she caught herself and looked away. “Rich history, teh? Don’t you already know?”

“If I have a devil’s fruit then I’ll get to bragging rights.” She crossed the room, pulled up a hardwood chair next to their fireplace and sat on it. Getting comfy, she pushed back on her seat and said “I want to brag about it all day.”

It had been weeks since she had last consumed social media, or even movies for that matter. She was starved for stories. Plus, stories were a way for her to make sense of the world. And this world felt like a dream she was hovering over. She’s awake but not quite, she needed a little thing, a little story to make sense of her new reality.

He glanced to the other men in the room and gave them an affirming nod. They propped up their furniture, settling back to their games in dutiful silence. “What do you want to hear about?” asked Na’reem.

“I want to hear the obvious. About why it’s called the devil’s fruit. Who first discovered it and why is it locked inside glass boxes.”

Me’ren drew Na’reem back, pulled him aside. “I’ll take this one. Carry on as you were with the games.” He stepped into the other room for a minute and came back dragging a large armchair dressed in red velvet cushions.

“Isn’t this a most strange deal?” He sat down with a long-suffering sigh. “But then again, who can resist hearing such a delightful story?”

Watching him settle with glowing fires dancing like kisses over his face made knots of tension unwind inside River’s chest, a lightening of pressure that felt a lot like visiting an old friend. “I’m sure telling it would be just as delightful.”