Chapter 117 - The One-Legged Kraken IV

  Turning the corner and boosting her speed, Cire began p three of five right as the sun rose above the horizon. Her competitor, the sea cow, trailed a few dozen meters behind but remained in the lead nonetheless. She didn’t understand why or how, but the ocean dweller was almost a full p ahead. Even though she was thrice its speed in the water.

  Though not the sole cause, her ck of commitment had compounded the not-bovine’s lead. Rather than focusing solely on the race, the half-horse had dropped out from time to time to squash the occasional monster. Literally, in most cases. Landing on top of them proved rather effective; her hooves were tougher than their spines, and a good hit would guarantee a quick, easy kill.

  The savannah was massive, but its wildlife was cking in variety. There were only a few species wandering the pins, totalling to something in the realm of a dozen. They appeared more varied when they were gathered beneath their cervidian overlords, but only because they were unable to escape the fruit-bearing deer. Each ruler had a full collection of every monster that lived atop the isnd. If evolutions and ascensions were taken into consideration, the species count ballooned, but only slightly. She had spotted a grand total of twenty nine different kinds, none of which had given a bonus in excess of a measly two points.

  As much as she wanted to use her pit stops as excuses, the lyrkress was aware that they were inconsequential. Unlike the manatee, she was still incapable of true flight. She had to nd at least once a minute, and rarely ever did squishing something on her way down lead to a significant dey. Bming the less-than-functional trampolines wasn’t an option in a race that wasn’t neck and neck.

  To her dismay, the roast beef sandwich was well aware that it was an excellent flier. It would occasionally pull ahead of her and slow down, just long enough to pat her on the back before speeding up and darting out of her reach. It pranced through the sky in a manner that reminded her of a middle-aged ballet instructor. Up and down, it spirited itself across the dance floor with elegance and grace. Even though it was clearly in need of a diet.

  Despite the difference in p count, the lyrkress continued pushing forward at top speed. Dropping out of the race wasn’t an option. She couldn’t admit defeat, at least not to the obnoxious barking eggpnt. As, it made no difference. The blubbery mass burst ahead of her for the twentieth time and finished its fifth p right before she completed her fourth.

  Spping its stomach, the sea cow dropped out of the air and nded right next to Sylvia’s bubble, the marker that denoted the start and end of the race. It flubbed around on the other side of the line, barking and cheering as it rolled around in the grass.

  Cire nded next to it with an unsatisfied hiss. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were narrowed into a gre. Seeing the hostile look, the marine mammal reacted with a start and shrank away. It gulped as it slowly met her gaze and gave her its best puppy dog stare, a futile appeal that ended with the sea creature in tears.

  Only with her supremacy re-established did the lyrkress do away with the act. She allowed her scowl to fade in favour of a pyful, pride-stoked grin, the very same one she had used to tease the moth.

  “Caaaiiire!” A tired groan came from the finish line as its milestone began to stir. “I thought I told you…” The statement was interrupted by a long, drawn-out yawn. “Stop bullying the sea cows!”

  “I’m not bullying it. We’re just having fun.”

  Ignoring the fox’s skeptical gaze, Cire walked over to the rd pile and patted it on the back with her tail. It was unperturbed by her approach. The mentally deficient sea creature even returned the gesture with one of its flippers.

  “See? We’re friends.”

  Sylvia gave her another look before slowly shaking her head and stifling another yawn. “Well… whatever. I guess you aren’t actually hurting it.”

  The manatee squealed, barked, and waved at the fox.

  “Good morning to you too, Marc.” The canid stood up on her hind legs and stretched out her spine as she replied.

  Cire tilted her head. “Marc? You named it?”

  “Of course I did! She’s Marc because she has a mark on her forehead.”

  The blueblood brought a hand to her face, kneading her nose with her fingers as she heaved a sigh. “That’s an awful name.”

  “Huh!? What do you mean! Marc is a great name!”

  “She’s a girl. Marc is the sort of name you give to a man. One that’s all brawn, and no brain.”

  Cire magically pulled the fox towards her. The bubble offered no resistance. She was able to wrap her arms right around the bard and run her fingers through her fur. Retracting her ice spike, she spun Sylvia around so they were facing the same direction before pulling the critter into a tight embrace and resting her chin atop her fuzzy head.

  “And you can’t just name it after the mark on its forehead. Names should have deeper meanings.”

  Sylvia sighed. “Oh, come on Cire… Now you’re just being weird. My name doesn’t mean anything special, and I bet yours doesn’t either!”

  “Of course it does,” said the mia, with an indignant scoff. “It all begins with my mother.” The former dy closed her eyes and pictured the fair dy in her mind. “Her name was Violet, and her hair and scales were both beautiful shades of purple. She named me Cire because mine are bright and shiny.”

  “How’s that any different from me naming Marc after her ma—mmphh”

  Cire cmped a hand over the fox’s mouth and sealed it shut. “Let me finish.”

  “Mmrmphhhhh!”

  “Yes, I know it sounds like a contradiction. There’s more to the expnation.”

  “Mmrmph, mrhhphhhh mrrr?”

  “Because it was obvious what you were going to say. Now let me finish.”

  “Mrmphh.”

  Sylvia rexed and leaned back into the other girl’s chest.

  “Good.” Cire removed her hand and continued. “My mother was on the more thoughtless side. She wanted to name me something simple, like Bnche, Gwyneth or Whitney, but my father disagreed.” She stopped to take a breath and steady her nerves.

  “Done?” asked Sylvia.

  “Almost.” The lyrkress tickled the underside of her companion’s chin. “My father… wanted to name me Victoria or Matilda, because he wanted something to do with war or power. Cire was a compromise. It describes the colour of my scales, like my mother wanted. And my father was happy with it. He thought I could become like a beacon of light, capable of guiding an army to its end.”

  “How about now? Are you finally done?”

  “I’m done.”

  “Okay!” Sylvia took a deep breath before shouting at the top of her lungs. “That’s still hardly any different!”

  Apparently, she wasn’t the only one to feel that way. Her partner in crime, the manatee, stood up on its tail, put its flippers on its hips, and nodded. Something about the gesture ticked Cire off, but she couldn’t stay mad at it. It was so silly that she couldn’t help but giggle.

  “No it isn’t. Not at all,” she said, as she stifled her ughter.

  “Yes it is! Ugh, whatever! Fine!” Sylvia crossed her arms and turned her head away. “You can come up with a better name for her if you don’t like Marc.”

  The rogue paused for a moment to think, but nothing came to mind. It was impossible for her to see the thing in front of her as anything but a sack of rd. And it just so happened that most people didn’t name random objects. “It doesn’t need a name. We can just call it the manatee.”

  “Why are you compining if you can’t even come up with anything!?” The fox angrily cmped her jaws down on the hand hovering in front of her face.

  “Ow.”

  “You deserved that!” She huffed as she feathered her captor’s face with her tail. “I’m biting you again next time you tick me off!”

  “I’ll bite you back.”

  “Not if you can’t catch me!”

  Sylvia began shrinking at a rapid pace, but Cire tightened her grip before she could get small enough to escape.

  “Wait! What the heck! How did you know I was gonna shrink?”

  “I just did.” The lyrkress giggled as she tugged on one of the palm-sized fox’s cheeks.

  “No fair!”

  “Life isn’t fair.” She gently lifted the kit with one hand and pced her on top of her head before turning to the manatee. “Marc is a man’s name. You’re a girl.”

  The sea cow cooed, fell back on its stomach, and fpped its flippers.

  “What do you mean, ‘you don’t care?’” The lyrkress brought a hand to the bridge of her nose and pinched it. And when did I learn how to understand it?

  “See! Marc’s a perfectly good name—eep!”

  Cire pinched the fox’s snout.

  “You shut up.”

  “What the heck was that for!”

  Sylvia returned to her normal size as she rubbed the front of her face. It didn’t look like there were any visible marks left by the attack, but she fshed the vicious moose a sheepish, accusing stare nonetheless.

  “For having poor taste in names.”

  “There isn’t even a problem! I like it, she likes it, and all the other sea cows like it too! You’re the only one that’s upset.”

  “Because you all have poor taste. At least make it sound more feminine.”

  “Fine! Then she can be Marcelle instead!”

  Cire rolled her eyes and sat down in the grass. The new name was certainly a tiny step in the right direction, but she decided against acknowledging it nonetheless. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Fish!” said the fox, her tail wagging.

  “Of course. I should’ve known.” She turned her eyes on the manatee. “What about you?”

  The sea creature shook its head and took a bite out of the grass. Cire cast the eggpnt a bit of a curious stare as she contempted the mechanics of its digestive system. She knew that cows had special stomachs and that they needed to chew their cud, but she had never seen the sea cow spit out anything it had already eaten. What am I thinking? Sea cows aren’t cows.

  “This is all your fault, Sylvia,” she muttered.

  “Huh!? I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know what you’re trying to bme me for!”

  “Everything. I’m bming you for everything.” Cire began walking towards the edge of the savannah. It was still a long way away. At a gnce, she couldn’t tell where the floating isnd gave way to the sky.

  “You can’t just bme me for everything,” grumbled the fox. “At least try to make it sound a little reasonable.”

  “Fine. Not everything.” The snake lifted the fox off her head and pulled her back into her arms. “But it’s your fault I keep thinking that sea cows are real cows.”

  “But they are!”

  “No. They’re not.” Cire leaned forward and shook her head. “You’ve never even seen a real cow, have you?”

  “I have! They’re big, bck, and they have horns and legs. And they have really funny faces!”

  The brief but accurate description brought to mind a pair of images. One was the four-legged animal, and the other was the meaty steak it was destined to become. It had been over two weeks since she had st eaten one, and the half-snake couldn’t help but want a bite of a well-marbled, dry aged raw cow. I wonder if there are any minotaurs in Llystletein…

  “Oh. You do know.”

  “Mhm! I saw one when I probed around in your dreams st nig—” Sylvia brought both paws to her mouth, but it was already too te.

  Cire hissed. “You did what?” She lifted the four legged creature to eye level and stared her down.

  Sylvia filed her limbs in a desperate attempt to break free. “N-nothing! Don’t look at me like that! I’m innocent! It was Al’s idea, and It’s not like I do it every night!” The fox shied away from the stare by hiding her face in her arms. “A-and plus, I was only doing it because I was worried about you! You seemed like you were having a really hard time with all the catgirl stuff so I thought that maybe I should check… Oh and I guess it kinda helped me see a bit more of the world too, but I promise that was only because I got distracted! My heart was in the right pce!”

  She kept rambling until another gre was shot her way.

  “Sylvia.”

  “M-mhm?” The vixen gulped, but meekly peeked through her paws and returned the other halfbreed’s stare nonetheless. Her eyes were unfaltering, even in the face of the almost predatory scowl.

  In the end, it was Cire that first looked away. She closed her eyes, sighed, and pulled her four legged friend back into her chest. There was genuine concern in the other girl’s eyes. It came alongside an almost unhealthy dose of guilt, but its presence was undeniable and its source was genuine. Knowing that, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was wrong to do nothing but bme her. Even though she wasn’t.

  “As long as you don’t invade my privacy.”

  “Wait, does that mean what I think it means?”

  “No.”

  “Huh?” Sylvia blinked. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? I can’t really tell if that was supposed to be a yes or a no.”

  “Good.” Cire magically pulled on one of her cheeks, only to stop and switch to a more manual approach as she found herself unsatisfied by the ck of warmth and fuzziness. “Did you see the ghost?”

  “Huh? There’s a ghost?” Sylvia spun around with her ears raised and her eyes peeled. Her tail shot straight up like a rod, and she even emitted a low growl. “I-I don’t think I see any ghosts. You better not be trying to freak me out!”

  “Not here. I meant the ghost in my dreams.”

  “Huh?” Sylvia tilted her head. “I don’t really check every night. Only when you’re having trouble sleeping and I happen to be awake and bore—er, I mean, uhmmm. Nothing! I didn’t mean anything!”

  “He’s there every night. For most of the night.”

  “Really? That’s really weird. From what I can tell, you don’t even dream that much. You always start off with something super random and then you just kinda snooze for the rest of the night. It’s always just bnk.”

  Cire pursed her lips and furrowed her brow as she sank into thought. The discrepancy didn’t seem to make any sense. She had always assumed that the phantom was just a figment of her imagination, but Sylvia’s inability to see him brought the presumption to question. She doubted that the ck of congruence stemmed from incompetence on the fox’s part. If she was powerful enough to casually create a level 250 lord, then she was likely to notice that something was off, unless there was a greater power at work. Maybe I should ask Box… if we see each other again before I ascend.

  “Nevermind then,” said the lyrkress. She didn’t think that it would be wise to discuss the topic any further, or even disclose its details, for that matter. The st thing she wanted to do was accidentally anger an entity that could either completely overpower or outskill the absurd librarian that was the fox.

  “Well umm… okay, I guess. If you say so!” chriped Sylvia.

  Not saying a word, Cire picked up the pace and ran towards the isnd’s edge.

  There was a lot of thinking to be done. And she was getting the feeling that the cottontail hole went far deeper than she had initially presumed.