Vigor Mortis

Chapter 64: Understanding

Humans. Humans everywhere. It’s terrifying.

I don’t think I’d normally be so worried. A bunch of humans came to investigate after I captured and ate that one who screamed. They never entered the forest, though, keeping a respectful, cautious distance from the trees. The trees are my domain, after all. None of them smelled that tough; if they had gotten closer, I’m sure I could have killed them all in the forest.

Yet now I’m terrified, because I’m not in the forest anymore.

The human lands have no trees to hide behind or hang webs from. Vast, flat, the tallest things are flimsy grasses and the structures humans themselves reside in. This is their domain. Here, their ability to attack from a distance goes from an incidental consideration to a constant looming threat. Any human that I can see could pull out a bow and shoot at me, even if I’m well out of range to retaliate. One arrow, I can dodge. But an arrow from each human? There must be at least ten tens of humans here. No, many times that number. Tens of tens of tens? At some point, the structures get so numerous that I can’t see past them anymore. Each and every one of them wants me dead.

So why am I walking towards them?

Tall wooden towers dwarf the landscape, the humans up top no doubt able to see me coming for ages as I walk down the dirt trail driven through the landscape towards their settlement. Yet no alarm is raised, none of them sparing me more than a passing glance. My lower arms clutch tightly to the inside of my stolen cloak, holding it closed. Hood up, I must look like a small human. I hope I do. That is the goal, after all. I walk past the towers, stone buildings looming ahead as countless humans walk around between them.

What am I even going to do when I get there? Start eating them? I’d surely die. Behind the towers, on each side of the main path into town, smaller wooden structures are dotted around, humans sitting behind them and shouting at passersby.

“Hearty stew here! Salted directly from the mines!”

“Fabrics! Died or plain, any income catered!”

“Treats for the little ones! Fresh, imported fruit!”

It feels like I don’t understand half the words being shouted, but the further in I get the more humans surround me, heading to and from the stalls, exchanging little chitin chips for whatever thing the yelling humans seem to have in abundance. The whole process enraptures me, overwhelming me with questions as I watch these rituals I have no hope of understanding on my own.

“Oh, um, hey there, sweetie. Are you lost?”

A human approaches me. I jump backwards, a bit startled. Had they been talking to me? It’s one of the big humans, as opposed to the humans that are more my size. This one is wearing a long, flowing piece of cloth that encompasses both of its legs rather than the individual per-leg cloths that the hunters all wore, which I find interesting. I stare at it a while, accidentally meeting the human’s gaze as it kneels down.

“Oh, woah! Are you okay?” the human asks. “What’s that on your face?”

I reach a hand up, double-checking the integrity of the bandage-like webbing I wrapped myself in to hide my features. Only the tiniest slits are open for me to see and breathe out of. I had no idea if this would work, but… I was right! It’s not attacking me! Humans really don’t attack things that they think are other humans. Even ones they don’t know! Why not? That’s so strange!

“I-I’m okay,” I insist, increasingly aware of every possible mistake that could expose me.

“You sure?” the human asks. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

I don’t have any idea what those are!

“I don’t know,” I murmur, heart pounding in my chest. Seriously, what possessed me to come here? What am I doing!?

“Okaaay…” the human hums back. “Well, that’s all right. Where was the last place you saw them, sweetie?”

I don’t have any idea how to answer that, either, but the only place I could have ever saw anything is the direction I came from, right? I point back up the path, away from the human structures and towards the forest. The human’s expression is as difficult for me to read as always.

“…Oh,” the human eventually murmurs. “Oh, no. You poor thing. I’m so sorry.”

“Alina!” another human calls, this one taller and deeper-voiced. It has the leg-by-leg cloth, too. “Hey, there you are. What are you doing over here?”

“Elias! I think something happened to this girl’s parents on the road here.”

“What girl?” the Elias asks.

I, of course, have already slipped away, using other humans like trees to break line of sight the moment the Elias took the other human’s attention off of me. There’s simply too much I don’t understand going on in that interaction, I’m afraid I’ll slip something up and they’ll realize I’m not really one of them.

Frankly, having all these humans so close to me is already driving me into a panic. My ravenous instincts start bubbling to the surface, each new smell a new meal that the core of my being wants to consume. I can’t though. Not in this place. So why am I even here? Quickly, I scurry off the road, away from the crowds of delicious creatures and behind the small structures with the humans that yell about whatever objects they have nearby.

I’m sweating. The webs on my face are itchy, but if I scratch with my claws even a little, I’ll break them, expose my face, and die. Even as-is, a lot of humans glance at me as I pass, staring at the white webs that hide my dark body. I can only imagine what their expressions mean, but I doubt it’s good. I need a more human fake-skin. I need a better way to cover my face.

…Or I need to do what I should have done in the first place, and not walk into the middle of a bunch of angry meals. Yet I’m just… too curious. I want to understand, to know. When I figure out how this human colony works, I’ll be able to start eating them safely.

There are other wooden structures out here, away from the dirt path but well before the cluster of stone structures that seem to be where most of the humans are. Humans sit behind these too, yelling out whatever they seem to want to give away, but far fewer people are moving around between the stalls away from the road.

One place in particular catches my eye. Three humans are there, a large and small one outside the wood structure and the one sitting behind it. As usual, small chitin discs are given to the one behind the stall for an item in return, which looks like an oddly-shaped round piece of wood. It’s when the wood is given to the smaller human and it covers its face with it that I start walking closer. A fake skin for the face! That’s exactly what I need!

I creep closer, waiting for two of the humans to leave before walking up to the fake-face acquisition structure with my hood pulled low. All sorts of odd knicknacks dot the stand alongside the wooden face-coverers, all of which are made of wood but none of which have a purpose I can divine. Hmm… how best to take one?

“Hello there, little lady!” the human in the structure exclaims. “See something you like?”

“I would like a face-coverer, please,” I demand.

“Well, you’re going to need some money for that.”

Hmm. ‘Money?’ Is that the word for the little chitin circles people have been giving to each other? Still, this human clearly hasn’t thought of the obvious.

“I can just not give you any and take it anyway,” I point out.

It’s an odd-looking human, even by human standards. Its face is wrinkled, its hair missing in all but but its nose, ears, and thin patches on its head. It has an odd sort of thinness to its body, muscles taut over a frame that doesn’t quite fit. Still, the human doesn’t smell weak. I suspect it would make a wonderful meal.

“You probably could,” the human agrees, lips quirking in an odd way I can’t place. “I’m not too fast these days. But if you do that, you can bet I’m going to track down your parents and tell them all about it.”

I look up at the human, forgetting to keep my hood down for a moment as I point towards the forest.

“If I have ‘parents,’ they’re a long way that way.”

Its expression drops, face softening considerably. The human takes in my wrapped-up face and hands in silence for a moment before answering.

“What’s your name?” it asks.

“Lark,” I answer immediately.

“Lark, are you alone? Do you have a family?”

“I’m alone,” I agree, not understanding the word ‘family’ well enough to answer.

“Why do you want a festival mask?”

“To cover my face with,” I say, a bit confused by this line of questioning. “I’m going to take one now.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lark,” the human tells me. “My name is August. You know, Lark, it takes me a long time to carve these masks.”

“Okay?” I’m not sure what the August is on about, so I just start looking around for an easy mask to grab. I’m very short, and the wood structure is made for taller humans.

“If you spent a long, long time making something, getting all the details right, putting your love into it, and someone just came one day and took it away without giving you anything in return, how would you feel?”

I stop. My home. My nest. My Claretta.

“…Bad,” I answer.

“Well, I would also feel bad if someone took a mask from me. Do you want me to feel bad, Lark?”

I’m reaching out to grab a mask but something in the words makes me stop, my mind without any input from me imagining the August standing in the rain, screaming out for Claretta like I did back then. My hand drops back down to my side. The August can feel that way too, huh? I glower up at the wrinkly human. It’s an interesting thought, I suppose, but of course I don’t care. Why would I care? I eat people. I kill them. What happens to anyone else, how anyone else feels, is not my problem. Of course I’m going to take the stupid mask.

Yet my hand does not move back up to steal one.

“…I don’t have any money,” I admit. “But I need a mask.”

The August nods as if it expected this.

“Well, if you want to do some work for me, I think that would be a fair trade for the work I put into them. I would be happy with that. Would you be happy with that?”

Happier than just having the mask and being done with it? Still, I nod, slowly but firmly.

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

It smiles, words warm and voice calm. Somehow, this human felt even more Claretta-like than Claretta when it spoke.

“First, how about you choose what mask you like best? I have a lot of varieties.”

I glance around.

“They’re all just wood in weird patterns. I don’t really get why they’re different from each other.”

The August laughs, putting a hand over its chest like I’d wounded it there.

“Agh, you’ve hurt my inner artist, little Lark! My pride might struggle to recover from that. They’re animal masks, see? For the festival.” He grabs a few, holding them out to me. “This one is a cat, this one is a bug… you see?”

What is this human talking about!? It’s just weirdly-shaped wood. No… wait. Wait, I kinda see it. Yeah, it’s carved to look like the animals, just without the right colors or textures or movements. It’s the shape. The cat one looks like a katzel, complete with ears that look like mine. I, of course, therefore do not at all want that mask. The whole point is to hide my features! The one that catches my eye is a wide-eyed mask with a funny faux beak. It looks like some kind of bird, which is perfect because I love birds. They can fly, just like I can in the song Claretta used to sing about me.

“I like this one best,” I tell the August.

“Oh? The owl mask! Good choice! That’s fitting for a Lark.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, well… the Lark and the Owl. They’re both birds, you know? That’s what your name means. A Lark is a kind of bird, beloved by people everywhere for its beauty and songs.”

Oh.

Of course.

Claretta was never singing about me in the first place. I grit my teeth, pulling the owl mask to my chest and squeezing it hard. Tears form in my eyes behind my webbing, and try as I might I can’t will them away. So frustrating, so very, very frustrating. I can’t control anything that’s mine. Not even my own body.

She never liked me.

“Lark?” the August asks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I choke out, putting the mask on the way I saw the smaller human do it. “Do I look less… weird now?”

“You look lovely, Lark,” the human answers. “It’s a bit early to be wearing a festival mask, but I don’t think anyone will mind. You… shouldn’t have to hide your face, though, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I assure it.

The August just nods, and soon after starts to explain how I am to help it. The task seems easy and straightforward enough, even if it attracts more attention than I’d like. I agree. It’s not like I have anything else to do.

“Festival masks!” I call out, heart pounding as eyes turn my way. “Cheaper when you buy in advance! Don’t wait, get them today!”

Cloak clasped and mask secure, the humans have no way of knowing I’m not one of them. Apparently all the yelling helps the August get more people that do have money over to its stall, and that’s all it needs as repayment. I’m not entirely sure I understand, but it’s simple and I get to watch lots of humans without arousing suspicion. A few hours later an island starts to pass nearby, and the August starts to ‘close’ its ‘shop.’

“I have performed your service,” I intone at the human. “So the mask is now mine, and you will not scream or cry when I leave with it?”

The August chuckles and shakes its head.

“The owl mask is yours. I promise to not scream or cry due to its absence. You are free to go, Lark. You’ve been a big help.”

The human looks at me, lips quiriking upwards. Not a single shred of fear or tension is visible on its features. It’s… so different to anything I felt from Claretta. I don’t have any response to its words, but nor do I leave.

“Lark,” the August continues, “do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

I tense up, again faced with a question I don’t know how to answer. The human starts talking again after my silence.

“I admit, I asked my customers about you,” it says. “I wanted to make sure no one was looking for a child your age. But they weren’t. You’re homeless, aren’t you?”

I nod, slowly.

“My home was destroyed,” I admit.

“And you don’t have any parents.”

It’s said like a statement. Well, I don’t even know what parents are, so I’ll wager the human is probably right on that.

“No,” I agree. “I don’t.”

The human takes a deep breath, wearing one of the many human expressions I can’t yet decypher. The fact that it’s all wrinkly doesn’t help either. I don’t feel in danger, though, I just feel… weighty. Like this decision the human is making is of great significance.

“If you wish, Lark, you are welcome to help me pack up and join me at my home tonight. We’ll get you clean, get you food, get you a bed. Only if you want it.”

I don’t take long to think about it. I probably should, but I don’t. Everything feels wrong and out of control.

“Okay,” I agree hesitantly. The human nods, lips quirking up once more. Mine do as well, not that the human can see underneath my new mask.

I help the August pack things into the stand, the round parts of which apparently rotate to help it move anywhere the human wants to take it! I’m immediately fascinated as the human grabs the stand and starts to pull it along after itself. The August walks in the opposite direction to most of the other humans, moving further away from the stone buildings rather than towards or into them. We get closer and closer to the forest, in fact, eventually coming across a large structure at its edge, made of wood like the cart rather than stone like the buildings of the town. Leaving the cart-stall structure by the side of the big-structure, the two of us head inside. I can’t help but look around in awe at the hinged entryway, the artificial cave within sectioned off into multiple areas, the vast array of structures inside that I’ve never, ever seen before—

“Well, Lark?” the human asks. “Welcome to my home. What do you think?”

“I like it,” I murmur, stepping slowly around and taking everything in. So enclosed, so many places to hang webs! “It’s neat. The things here are neat.”

It laughs again. Oh, how easily I could eat the human here! We’re so far away from any others. It’s a free meal. I’ll definitely eat it. …Later.

“Well thank you! I made most everything myself, the house included. So, what would you like to eat? I have a few good vegetables from my garden, or—”

“I ate already,” I inform the August.

It looks surprised, but nods in assent.

“How about a bath, then?”

I hesitate. Another word I don’t know! Humans have so many of them! How should I respond? Hmm… well, I suppose if I agree I’ll get to see what it actually is.

“O-okay?” I answer hesitantly.

The human nods once more, setting off to do… whatever it is a bath involves. Firstly it’s apparently drawing water from what looks like underground into a person-sized bucket in one of the enclosed rooms. Then it’s making that water bubble a little and start having a bit of mist come out, which the August calls ‘steam.’ Then it’s…

“Well, you first, Lark,” the August says. “Get on in!”

…Getting in. To the weird water which, as I approach, turns out to be warm. Hot, even. I poke at it. Definitely hot! Yet not painful. Slowly, I start to lift myself inside…

“Lark, wait, wait. You should undress first.”

I freeze instantly, horror dawning on me. I have never seen a human without their fake-skin on, at least not without taking it off the body myself. I’d just assumed I would never be in a situation where I would be expected to remove mine! What do I do? Do I just eat him? I should probably just be eating him anyway, right? What am I doing? Why am I here?

“…Lark?” the human asks slowly.

“I-I don’t want to!” I stammer, stepping away from the human and the ‘bath.’ “I’m not… please don’t ask me to take it off!”

A lot more fear than I had intended creeps into my voice, and the human picks up on it. No, no, not like this! Not one that talks to me. Not one that gives me things. I don’t want to—

“Lark,” the August says, slowly and calmly. He kneels down to my height. “You don’t have to. Ever. Okay? I’m sorry.”

I let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. What does the human think of me? What is that expression on its face? Sadness? I’m safe for now, though. …No, wait, I was never in any danger. My lie is safe for now.

“I think you will feel better after you take a bath,” the August continues. “You don’t have to, but I promise this is a safe place for you. How about this? I will leave and close the door. You can take a bath with your clothes on, or with your clothes off, or you can not take a bath at all. I will wait outside this room and I will not go in as long as you are in here. And I will never, ever touch you unless you ask me to. I promise, Lark. You can leave at any time, for any reason. But as long as you are here, you are safe.”

I have no words to bring against that. I only nod again, watching as he leaves the room and closes the door. There are no windows here, only a glowing series of symbols on the ceiling give light. I’m alone, and no one will see me unless someone opens that door.

It’s safe here, and I am very, very itchy.

I’m not going to just blindly trust that human, of course. I claw through the coverings that hide my hands, setting up webs around the room that I can take down and hide before leaving. Then, gratefully, I start to undress, dropping my cloak and ripping my bandage-like webbing to shreds. It feels so good already, and I’m not even in whatever a ‘bath’ is. Maybe I’m misunderstanding the human, like I did with Claretta. Maybe it’s making me misunderstand on purpose, somehow. Maybe it’ll come in here, maybe it’ll see what I really am.

Fine. If it does, it dies. I’m hungry anyway. I look forward to it.

I get in the bath. The human never comes in.

It feels nice.