It took another week of lying around, talking with Avice and eating a variety of meats, all different in their horribly raw taste and texture, until I felt somewhat healthy again. Which was definitely not something everyone who got as sick as I was could say. I counted my blessings that I had the good fortune to not succumb to poison or infection.

Praise be the god of not-letting-me-die-of-disease.

I didn’t regret how reckless I had been. It was what saved me and a lot of others as well. But now I had to live with the ugly sides of the choices I made as well.

I looked at my arm. It still hurt every time I tried to move it under my sheets. I just had to trust it would get better, though If I had to be completely honest? It looked like it would leave a bit more than just a scar. My face probably looked horrible as well, with the number of times it got slashed or bashed in with blunt objects.

Actually, I haven’t seen my face yet. Not since I got bright light. Or, well, I saw it in a dream, but that doesn’t count. Anyways, since I ate enough souls to glow as bright as a torch, I probably should have another look. Then, I’ll go find the wolf and ask him about… well, everything. Mainly if he can teach me how to be like a knight.

All this lying around and doing nothing was making me all fidgety. I needed something to do, a part of me always insisting that it wasn’t right if I just lazed around for days on end. And while my mind hadn’t wandered off into dark corners too many times, I got the impression that going for walks and talks would help soothe the otherwise mounting anxiety.

All right. Plan for the day is a go. Let’s do this!

I stood up and promptly forgot that I was only clothed in loose bandages and rolls of cloth haphazardly draped around my body. Somebody had peeled me out of my armor and the underlying padding as well, cleansed my wounds and everything else, then wrapped me up in my provisional underwear made of the old cloth rolls I was buried with.

While I had come to terms with the fact that it had been necessary to dress my wounds and that no one would be looking at the body of a shriveled up half-corpse with any amount of desire in their eyes (hopefully), I still flushed red as the bandages fell off in ragged heaps. At least the only one nearby I could even flash was Avice.

Her stone mask remained motionless on her prone form.

Nothing weird to see here. We’re both girls, everything is fine. Oh, wait. My last dream kind of invalidates that point. Oh well, time to die of embarrassment.

I stood still for a moment, praying to every god that she was asleep, then when I was certain she was, gathered my bandages and the blanket I had before shuffling off to the underground spring.

“Hey Rye.” Harris said as I walked past his pillow fort.

“ACK!” I said, totally not having forgotten that this was where he had made his domain. The grand pillow fort of Harris the merchant.

It was also in part because he looked really, well, like a corpse. Dry skin, shriveled and with the red and black bruises of decay. Sunken eyes, matted hair, unusually thin body. He was dirty and smelled like coal but in spite of it all, he still put up a friendly smile that made him come across as casually friendly.

I pulled the blankets closer and turned towards him. “Y-yes?”

“Wolfy told me to look after your armor.” He gestured to a pile of metal, padding and chainmail. “Thought you’d like it back about now.”

I nodded and shuffled on over, picking up what I could as I turned to make my way downstairs. However, a thought struck me.

“Actually Harris, I was wondering if you sold clothing as well.”

“Clothing? Sure, I’ve got cloaks and belts, boots and pelts, socks and sandals and many things more: everything you need at Harris’ pillow fort.” He said.

Catchy. But I had a more specific article in mind.

“Do you sell things for more… private needs?”

He blinked at me, not understanding.

“Underwear.” I clarified.

My armor and bandages could be fastened around my chest strongly enough that my boobs weren’t too much of an issue while moving around. The chest plate even propped them up a bit but if I had the choice, I’d rather not walk around with nothing but age-old straps of cloth between my legs or the armor and my chest. Now that I could see how nasty the bandages on me were, I shivered at the thought of having worn them for more than a week. Throughout my excursions into the swamp. Through a lot of physical exertion. Through blood and bile, spider bits and sweat and muck.

Ewewew.

“Oh yeah, I got something.” He said, flippantly, as if having woman’s underwear was the most natural thing in the world.

Not sure I wanted to continue thinking about the implications of that. He continued rummaging around in his pile of pillows and everything else, before coming back with a long, smooth cloth band that was almost pristinely white. Well, as pristine as anything could be in this dusty ol’ temple. Nobody really bothered cleaning and the more I looked at it, the more it started bothering me.

The cloth however instantly grabbed my attention. It was the kind you wrapped around your waist and nether regions. It looked so soft. So clean.

“How much?” I blurted out nearly too quickly.

“One dim.” He answered.

“A… dim?”

“Foot of dim light. Soul.”

Ah. Right. He deals in souls. Shit. But I want that. Do I have anything else I can trade? No pillows, that’s for sure. But I need something. Anything. I’ll trade in a gauntlet if I have to. Not my boots, but my helmet? Sure.

I realized quickly how bad of an idea that would be. My helmet had saved my life more times than I could count, and I would much prefer my brain un-mushed. It was hard enough to think as it stood, being me and everything that entailed.

I rummaged through my armor, my belongings, my pouch. I opened the different little pockets and found a few things that might interest a trader of bits and bobs like Harris was.

“I’ve got… a sharp rock. I think it’s a flintstone?”

He smiled.

“I can make fire myself.” He said. “There are a lot of lit candles around.”

I had noticed those as well. Yet another odd thing to investigate. I kept on looking for trinkets and baubles to sell.

“A few marbles on a necklace?”

He took them, inspected them, held them against my face as he let the light fall through, before giving them back. “Glass.”

“Dammit. Alright, can I interest you in a beetle?” I held up a tomato sized bug I had just found squirming inside a pocket, his arms flailing helplessly and slowly as I pinched him by the butt.

“No!” Harris recoiled as I held it closer so he could inspect my wares.

“It’s blue though.”

“Still a no. I’ve got enough food as is, courtesy of Wolf.”

Ah. Right. He was supplying the whole temple with things he hunted. Which is impressive, but I’ll get back to him later. I could ask him to teach me how to hunt as well. Also, who’d even eat a bug as cool as this one? It’s shiny.

Maybe I’ll keep it as a pet. I wonder where George is? Probably still hanging around Pim. They really hit it off together. Good for them. If anything, he needs George more than I do at the moment.

I dug through more pockets, turning up dirt, pebbles, a number of coins which he all refused as payment, the key to the Wolf’s prison and the empty ball of wyckwax Harris had given me before. Then, I found something I was sure he would like.

“A copper necklace?” he asked.

“Not just any ol’ copper necklace. A copper necklace with a ruby in it. It belonged to a dead king, I think. Or a queen.”

He stroked his chin, deep in thought. I had his interest.

“I think it would look good on you.” I shoved it into his hands, letting him feel the item I was selling, the texture, the weight. An old trick I learned from my Da’.

“Deal.” He said and the deal was made. He even gave me an extra set of the cloth, as a backup or for my bust.

Underwear get! Now, onto the face reveal. What’ll it be folks, on a scale from rotting corpse to rusty raisin, is there hope or am I forever damned to look like a reject of the living world?

I slipped down the stairs and into the room with the water, the spring’s water quietly splashing down the cascading stone bowls. I leaned over one of them with my eyes shut and after some internal back and forth, gingerly opened them to the image in the water.

I was surprised. Pleasantly. I could see more in detail how my skin was only just not the color of rotten flesh and how the white of my eyes was discolored by a yellowish-red backdrop that seemed to be fading away ever so smoothly. But I could also see how my skin and muscles beneath were starting to look a bit better. I couldn’t see the print of my teeth through my cheek, my cheekbone was there, but not as prominent as before and in places, little patches of pink and more healthy-looking skin were peeking through the otherwise black, blue and red bruises.

I was… healing. Getting better. I certainly felt better than before. I had wounds all over my face from those damn giant fleas, but besides that and the copious bruises I was starting to take for granted for someone who was either in hell or came back from the dead, I didn’t look too bad. I even gained some weight, making me look more like a person and less like a set of willowy twigs. Though, two problems were making themselves felt.

First, my hair was completely screwed. Drained of almost all color except at the base, where I could see my natural blonde hair poking through. It was brittle to the touch and much of it was of varying lengths, ripped or cut off as I had gone through the motions of living and almost dying these past few weeks. It was saddening, but I also knew one thing for certain: the hair had to go. I wasn’t going to walk around with what looked like a dead dog on my head.

Secondly, my nose wasn’t perfectly straight. If it had been anyone else’s nose, I wouldn’t have noticed how it ever so slightly veered to the left. But it was my nose, and I noticed it almost the moment I laid eyes upon it.

I scrunched it up in disapproval. I touched it with my hands, and it hurt, still not fully healed. I touched it again, this time pushing harder, until I had tears in my eyes and could feel rather than hear something hard grind beneath my skin. It didn’t make a difference. I wasn’t fixing this anytime soon.

Gods, I really want a visor for my helmet now. My nose isn’t that bad, I know it. But tell that to my stray thoughts.

I washed the armor even though it had clearly been washed before. But, since it and the padding inside were the only things I could reasonably wear anywhere, I was going to make absolutely sure that it was as clean as could be. I also felt comfortable in my armor, the pressure of it squeezing in, the solid parts a protective plating against the horrors of the world, a boundary between squishy me on the inside, and the cold uncaring world on the outside.

I then decided to wash my newly acquired beetle as well. He was dirty, but afterwards, he was shining like a bright blue beacon.

Beautiful. You need a name, little friend.

The beetle tried to skitter away, but instead plopped into one of the offering bowls. I got him out again. He evidently didn’t know what was good for him but keeping him in a pocket wasn’t a solution either.

I think I’ll set him free in the backyard. Back-grave-yard. But first, a name. You’re skittery, but plump, you’re not at all calm and or careful. You like to be free. Unrestrained. Armored like a knight and with teeth that can bite. I have a name for you.

Your name shall be Sir Skitterson.

Sir Skitterson struggled once more to escape my hands.

Well, I guess he really likes freedom. Time to go out and set him free then.

I got clothed, putting on my new underwear, which was pure bliss compared to my old wrappings, and then the padded armor above. The chainmail around my neck was absolutely torn and my right gauntlet was missing, though I wouldn’t have gotten it over my splinted hand anyways. I’d have to find replacements for both.

Then, after making sure my helmet was sitting nice and snug, I walked up the stairs and out into the graveyard at the back of the temple. There, I found a nice and pleasant patch of dead grass and set my little buddy free.

Immediately, a tongue shot out from behind a tombstone and swallowed my beetle friend whole. I watched in horror as a giant toad smacked its lips, crunching and biting. It looked up at me with gentle, tired eyes.

“NOOOOOO!” I yelled.

Glom licked his lips. “A most becoming sacrifice. Thou may ask a question, in exchange.”

“Whyyyyy?”

He sat there and pondered as I tried to deal with losing my poor buggy friend.

I just got him like ten minutes ago! This isn’t fair!

But Glom didn’t care and finally spoke in answer to my outcry. “All living things must eat. Small or big. Bug, god or human. Thou art either the eater or the eaten and just how one cannot escape one’s own hunger, so can one not escape the fate of all beings atop and beneath the earth. Thou would do well not to seem too tasty a morsel around a predator, worm.”

I was still trying to get over losing my friend Skitterson. It wasn’t always a good thing that I formed emotional bonds with every little critter I picked up.

“B-but I thought I’m not a worm anymore?” I sniffled, distinctly remembering having heard as much from Glom’s own mouth.

Glom however seemed surprised, taken aback and, well, almost embarrassed. As far as I could read how toads felt from their faces. I didn’t even know if they could feel those emotions.

“Thou overheard?” he eventually asked.

“Uh-huh.” I did, though the recollection of that particular hushed discussion was spotty at best.

Glom shuffled in place, then licked his eye with his tongue. “Come. Carry me to mine altar. We have much to discuss.”

I looked at Glom in horror. Was he going to completely walk over the fact that he ate my pet? Just like that?

“I am not carrying your fat, slimy ass, Glom.” I said.

If a toad could look insulted, this was exactly how it would look.

Glom huffed. “Then I shall hop.”

And thus, he did, hopping towards the central room of the temple in short, heavy leaps. I followed reluctantly, in part because I had nothing else to do and in part because I was going to get back at him for that.

Stupid Glom.