“This is stupid.” Gert mumbled as she grudgingly picked another plump purple fruit, the overladen branch audibly groaning under the burden it still carried. Clearly no one had harvested this tree, or any of the others in the small orchard, in a long time.

“I like it!” Mo-Mo chirped from her perch atop Shh’s shoulders, grabbing a branch and giving it a solid shake to send multiple fruits plopping down to the ground. “Look at how many I’ve got!”

Gert grumbled again, dropping her single fruit into her makeshift basket of sticks and leaves. “You like it because it’s the only thing you aren’t terrible at.”

Mo-Mo sniffled at that, but to her credit puffed up her cheeks in defiance rather than what her response previously would have been. Namely, to bawl her eyes out.

“You’re just mad because I’m better than you are at this! So myeh!” She squinted an eye and stuck out her tongue at Gert, only to squeak in surprise when the big female pushed her off of Shh’s shoulders to tumble to the ground.

Shh quickly moved between the two of them, Mo-Mo wrapping herself around one of his legs and whimpering as Gert raised her hackles. “Gert, what’s wrong?!”

“I’m sick of this!” She ripped a fruit off the tree and hurled it as hard as she could into her basket. “I don’t wanna do this! You said I’d get to smash things!”

She snatched up her big stick and pointy rock from the ground, growling with barely contained need. Shh knew that he should have anticipated this; between yesterday’s failures, the morning’s confrontation and the afternoon’s emotions? Gert needed an outlet for the things she was going through.

And frankly, giving her such an amazing stick and pointy rock without any immediate cause to use it? Short sighted. Like throwing fuel onto the flame. This needed to be handled.

Luckily, there were plentiful smashing targets available beyond him and Mo-Mo.

“Look, Gert…,” he started, keeping his tone and body language as soothing as possible, “Why don’t you give that stick and pointy rock a spin?”

The big female stared at Shh, her breath coming in short aggressive bursts and her tail ramrod straight.

“What?”

“Give it a go! Me and Mo-Mo want to see how good you can smash stuff!” Shh glanced down at where the smaller mongrel was still clutching his leg. “Right, Mo-Mo?”

“Y-yeah!” Mo-Mo must have actually been interested in seeing that, excitement bubbling through her previous distress. “I do!”

Gert’s confrontational tail started to give a small wag as she gripped her stick and pointy rock a little tighter.

“Um, okay.” She glanced around, a touch awkwardly after her aggressive outburst. “So, uh, what do I smash, though?”

“How about some of those?” Shh pointed towards a branch stuffed close to bursting with fruit. “You could smash fruit real good, right?”

“Didn’t you say we need those?”

“Well sure but we don’t need all of them! Go on, Gert!”

She stared up at the overripe purple target, so fat and round and incredibly smashable, her tongue flitting out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Then the pointy rock at the end of the big stick meteored into the waiting fruit, obliterating it into such a glorious burst of juice and pulp that it seemed silly to suggest the fruit had ever existed in the first place.

Gert could only stare at the destruction she’d wrought, her breath short in her chest again as her eyes nearly doubled in size. Then she giggled, and smashed another. And another. Before they knew it, she’d decimated the entire lower branches of three of the trees, the big female beaming triumph and utterly drenched the sticky remains of her swathe of destruction.

“S’cuse me, guys,” She drawled, a wide and contented smile looping across her face. “I’ma take a little break.”

And then she plopped down to the ground and began to groom herself, at perfect peace with herself and the world around her. Good thing too. Shh had to imagine that his head was at least a little tougher than a big soft fruit?

But probably by less than he’d have preferred.

“Come on, Mo-Mo, let’s finish up.” He helped the little female back up onto his shoulders, bracing his stance as she reached up to collect more fruit. “Just a few more, and then we see if this all pays off.”

Shh offered the whimpering Mo-Mo a comforting scratch behind the ear as the three of them peered out through their hiding spot in the brush, Gert stoically bearing the weight of the overstuffed fruit basket. Okay… yes. This was all exactly how Shh remembered it.

There was the little campsite with the raggedy tent and the sputtering campfire, and the bad-smelling collection of pots and tubes set a distance behind them. And there was the skinny old monster, clutching his stomach and groaning.

He looked so much like the outpost monsters, but he just wasn’t, somehow. He just wasn’t scary. He had a big white beard, and thick red pajamas, and he was wearing a pot on his head. Not a single part of that was scary.

He also didn’t have any swords or arrows, which was also a notable plus.

Time to do this.

Shh nodded to his companions then pushed his way out of the brush, the others following at something of a distance. Gert attempted to hide her anticipation with an air of boredom, Mo-Mo’s anxiety visibly slipping away as she popped her head out from behind Shh to sneak longer and longer peeks at the singularly un-intimidating monster.

The old monster didn’t even notice their presence until they were nearly at his camp, and even then it was only because he happened to stand up for a stretch.

When he did notice the three of them, however, Shh was a little pleased that he was clearly shocked, stumbling backwards and tripping over his own stool to fall on his butt. He scrambled to his feet and began to scour his camp for…well, for what?

Ah. A weapon, apparently. All he could find was the pot on his own head.

Undaunted, he snatched the cookware from his bald dome and shook it at the three mongrels in a manner that could charitably be called a threatening manner.

“Stay back! Y’all think ya’ll can catch Ol’ Moots nappin’?!”

Shh…wasn’t sure, actually. The gap between the mongrels and this particular monster was clearly much narrower than the one between them and the outpost monsters. Gert certainly seemed prepared to give it a go, her body tensing up in anticipation. But Shh was absolutely certain that was the wrong play.

Because even if they did win, which was no small thing, that’d be what? A level? Two? Maybe not even one! And then that would be it, no more Experience. Forever.

No, the Biggest Plan was the way to go.

Shh cleared his throat and stepped forward, snagging one of the purple fruits from Gert’s basket. How did this go again? It’d been a long time and the pup wasn’t entirely sure that only the words mattered here. So he did his best to adopt the stance as he recalled it, his legs set wide and his arm confidently outstretched as he forced his mouth to form the uncomfortable words.

“Grrf…erm…kwast?” Ugh, language was so awkward when you couldn’t use smells or tails or ears. He kept trying. “You. You…kwast? You k-qwast? Quest?”

The old monster’s eyebrows shot up at that last attempt, a response spilling unbidden from his mouth. “Well TARNATION! Ol' Moots's as hungry as he can be! Iffin y'all 'venturers'd be kind enough t’bring him ten o' those fruits he smells over yonder, why, he'd SURE'N be grateful!"

Shh quickly shoved the fruit towards the old monster, who seemed almost as shocked by the sight of it as he was by the speech he’d been forced to automatically reel through. He took a step back, his eyes darting with confused distrust between Shh and his forbidden fruit.

Then, as if on cue, his stomach echoed out in a truly epic growl.

Ol’ Moots could only manage a groan of hunger and apprehension as he slowly lifted his trembling arm, trying to wrench his limb back and desperately snatch the fruit all at once. It took him an agonizing eternity but eventually his fingers curled around the purple treat and pulled it from Shh’s paw.

>1 of 10<

The three mongrels stiffened as the bright little voice filled their heads. Ten. Ten was bigger than Four. Obviously. Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten.

What was bigger than Ten? Shh didn’t care. Because the Biggest Plan was working.

If Moots heard the little voice as well, he was too distracted by his prize to pay it any mind. “Ohhhh…It’s been so long…” He shoved the fruit into his nose, taking in a deep, shuddering whiff. “No one’s come t’bring Ol’ Moots any food fer…”

He trailed off as he noticed Shh extending another fruit, all three mongrels brightly grinning as their tails waggled in a tempest of excitement. He didn’t have to think long before he took the second one, and then the third, and a few moments later he’d gratefully accepted the tenth and final fruit.

>ding<

Gert dropped her basket with a gasp as Mo-Mo clutched hers even tighter, a wave of sensation unlike any other flooding the tiny bodies of the three mongrels. This was it. It worked.

They were Level Two.

“Stertus!”

Shh summoned his Status Screen as quickly as he could manage, his eyes hungrily absorbing his new statline.

———————

Str: 3

Agi: 4

Tgh: 3

Int: 5

Wis: 5

Prs: 5

———————

Okay. Maybe it was a proportionally small increase? Really, just a few points here and there. But when you only have a few points to begin with, even the smallest scrap seems like a banquet. They were Level Two mongrels. They were the only Level Two mongrels ever.

Also yes that Intelligence boost yes; Shh knew he wasn’t a dummy yes.

Gert let out a delirious whoop of joy and Mo-Mo giggled uncontrollably as all three of the pups grabbed each others paws and began to dance wildly in a circle, cheering and howling and exulting in the single greatest feat in the history of their kind.

And it wasn’t just that the Biggest Plan worked. This was bigger than any one, or any trio of mongrels’ victory. This was a victory for mongrels everywhere.

This was a way forward.

Moots had somehow already finished all ten fruits when Gert snatched another up from the basket and shoved it into his chest, her grin all but bursting off of her face. “Kwast! Quest!”

The old monster was grinning too, eyeing the still-stuffed basket in teary appreciation as the words tumbled out of him once more. “Well TARNATION! Ol' Moots's as hungry as he can be! Iffin y'all 'venturers'd be kind enough t’bring him ten o' those fruits he smells over yonder- "

By the time the basket had been emptied, ten fruits at a time, Moots was surrounded by picked-clean fruit stones and looked as happy as Shh had ever seen anyone. But he didn’t come close to matching the three mongrels.

Because they were Level Five and it was starting to seem like the world may have a place for them after all.

They romped in the orchard late into the night, cavorting and laughing and dancing in glee as they filled the basket all over again. Every now and then Gert selected a particularly massive fruit and lobbed it into the air, catching it mid flight with her stick and pointy rock to blast all three of them in a shower of purple celebration. Shh and Mo-Mo cheered her on with rapturous delight, not caring about their sticky faces and matted fur.

This was a celebration, after all. Maybe the first celebration a mongrel had ever had real cause for before. And the best part? The orchard was still stuffed with more fruit than they could ever trade or smash.

So they’d have cause to celebrate tomorrow, too. And the day after that and the one after that. For who knew how many days! Shh had no clue how far it could go and to be perfectly frank he knew that the Biggest Plan was now officially in “See What Happens” mode.

So he and his friend were going to celebrate. For themselves and also for their packmates who didn’t even know yet that they still had a future.

Shh had been pretty unsparing with himself leading up to this, on both his motivations and his actual value compared to anyone else in his pack. But this was an unalloyed win and he’d earned a bit of self-congratulation.

Pretty Big plan, Shh. Pretty Big plan.