Chapter 55

Just to Offer Company

Brewer’s Reputation: 260,003

Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 1/15,000 shards.

In the blink of an eye I appeared on my ethereal plane. I stood at the threshold of my log house. I entered. It was bare, but I could see where shelves would go. Where I would collect all the master copies of my ethereal beers. My inventory was slowly becoming heavier and my cellar back at my cabin was getting disorganized. I wasn’t the only one who found that to be the case. Thrush had relayed Boggo’s frustration with the cellar feeling too cluttered. Perhaps Barnacle-eyes would be the first person I invite here to help me install shelves. This would be one of the safest places to store things. I’d been the only one to come here so far, and perhaps I would keep it that way.

I left the log house and took a wander through tall black cohosh. My boots sunk into the ground of sand and sumac leaves. Maple leaves rained from the sky in an endless cycle. I marveled at the enormous ball of woven oak that encircled the area. New branches had sprouted and already were covered with moss. New leaves had emerged. Pearlescent atmosphere morphed in the horizonless distance. The plane would make for an awesome golden chapter. And it was only going to get better. If I could one day have an entire wilderness with birds and animals, it could truly be something. Perhaps even a babbling brook. A river full of oysters. A coast of clams and a tepid sea. There were so many Landmark ales I could brew. I could only slowly improve my ethereal plane.

I withdrew the Ethereal Landmark ale of fourrure blanc and soil, and chucked it out into the empty space beyond the last row of black cohosh. The bottle spun and whistled through the air. It sank down until exploding upon an outreaching branch of oak below. Chimeric colored beer and spectral colored foam flew everywhere and far. A few droplets flew by me like miniature shooting stars. From every splash grew fourrure vines. The vines wrestled with the moss and oak trunks. White furry flowers bloomed from every vine. Watching those remarkable flowers grow in a matter of seconds was a true wonder. Something Abigail would find delightful. If I did bring anyone here, I had to bring her here one day. Just to see the look on her face.

As the sky began to fill with flying tufts of fourrure petals, I gave a lasting look before returning to the log house. With an eye out the paneless windows, I began cloning Dellia’s Ethereal Dungeon #2. I put batch after batch into 15.5 gallon sapling bound barrels destined for Lavenfauvish. I wanted to squeeze as much as I could on Barnacle-eyes’ sloop before she cast off. Sweating after having just reached level 1544 in both Brewer and Brewer’s Bubble, I heard a sound come from outside. I crossed to the window and leaned out.

“Hello?”

Certain I’d imagined something, I returned to brewing. But before I could lift a hand, I heard something again and this time I could clearly make out that it was a bark. I left the log house and searched for its owner. I peered through standing black cohosh and made my way to where the fourrure blancs grew. They had doubled in length and number of blooms since earlier, but nothing else in the plane was different.

I heard another bark. Then paws sprinting through sand. I turned toward the sound and saw something streak through the black cohosh. I ran there and followed the sounds that led me zig-zag around the log house. There came another bark but I couldn’t place whether it had come from inside, or around a wall. I ran to the front door and cautiously peeked inside. Apart from the few barrels I’d just put in there, there was nothing else. Just a scatter of sand from my comings and goings.

I heard shifting sand behind me and I turned around. The animal was white and transparent, like a drop of milk in crystal clear water.

“You’re a dog,” I said. “A ghost dog.”

The ghost dog was impossibly fluffy. The only colors were in its eyes. One icy blue eye. One tree trunk brown eye. It panted for a few moments and then performed a grumpy yawn. From its gaping mouth stretched a bright red tongue.

My heart raced. It had been over nearly a year since I saw a wild animal. Even though the dog didn’t come from my wilderness, it was still so fulfilling to chance upon such a beautiful creature. It made me miss the animals of my woods. Dearly. The birds, bears, the howls of wolves. Even the growls of occasional monsters. I missed sharing food with them. Especially seeing the blue jays thrive in a frozen landscape—my only winter companions.

But where did this fluffy one come from? There was no answer in its eyes, but once I recollected something Abigail had said, I had a hunch.

“You’re Abigail’s friend’s dog. Aren’t you?”

The dog cocked its ghost head. It sat.

“Do you know Corylus?”

The dog emitted a whine and jutted its head forward. The whine trembled and when the dog lifted its head, the whine opened into a howl. I moved closer to offer comfort. To offer pets, but I paused, uncertain that the dog might be friendly. I proffered dried mushrooms instead. The biggest I had. The dog’s whine petered back down into a forlorn whine. The sort of forlorn cry that will have any man turn their face to hide the fact that they felt it deep in their marrow. The dog pawed at me, though its paw went through me.

“Come here,” I said. “Follow me.”

I led the ghost dog inside and put down my copper mug for water and a wooden bowl for food. I pulled off my wool sweater and folded it up into a bed. The dog sniffed at my offerings but made no move to drink, to eat, nor to lay down. It turned its heterochromic eyes to me. Then it sat. I could not understand what the ghost wanted. All I knew was-

“You are Corylus’ dog.”

It lay beside my sweater, groaned deep from its throat and gave a despairing huff. Its big eyes watched me as I lowered myself down to sit with it for some time. Just to offer company.