The Jellybane Chapter 2

Art by Connie Walker 

(ryoki18@yahoo.com)

Chapter 2

Bears

Far too short a time later, Alice is awoken to some distant cry. Eyes still closed, an ear angles about, focusing on the sounds while hoping it isn't what she thinks. The cry comes again, louder and closer.

“Alice!” Ashley calls urgently. The swift rustle of grass making the hunter think the Didel must be running.

Alice grumbles, not a single part of her eager to be moving so soon after finally getting to sleep.

The opossum girl's voice is only feet away now. “Alice, jellies are all over, some got into the village!”

The sleepy fox looks to see the vague silhouette of her friend just outside the tent's thin canvas walls. She briefly considers pretending she isn't in. Though reconsiders, making her presence, and annoyance, known with an exasperated groan and the stretching of stiff, heavy limbs.

“Alice? You awake? We need your help.”

The Tokala makes further grumbles, turning herself with a foot just enough to reach for the tent's pull string. After a few tries, she gives it a tug, causing a flap of canvas to swish loosely to the side, unleashing the blinding sun. The fox recoils with a distressed moan.

Ashley's head pops in, graciously blocking the intrusive orb's stinging radiance,“Alice, come on. There's jellies in Toki! Folk are freakin'!” Alice moans incoherently, weakly placing a hand on the opossum's furry muzzle to show her annoyance.

Ashley grins, “Just think of all the cores you could get, all right near the village.”

This perks the fox's ears. and she groans drowsily, “Huh, how many?”

“I saw one in the village and another three close by; there's lots in the fields, too! Come on, come on!” Ashley urges, tugging Alice by the wrist.

With assistance, Alice grudgingly rises to a sit. Ashley takes up one of the Tokala's water skins. Feeling it's still fairly full, she slides it up an arm. The Didel then drapes Alice's heavy sword over the barely responsive fox girl's shoulder so it sits across her back. She has to prop the hunter up to keep her from toppling back over but with enough prodding and assurance of many jellies, the opossum manages to get the fox awake enough to shuffle out into the early day.

Grass and soil, still damp from the night's rain, feel cool under Alice's bare feet. Mid stretch, she's pulled by Ashley toward the village and forced to keep pace with the insistent Didel. Body beginning to awaken with the warmth of the rising sun, Alice blearily looks up, seeing only a few fluffy white clouds in the azure sky. Scattered across the fields, she also notices a number of jellies, bright green domes just visible over the tall grasses. Ahead of her, Ashley goes on about how she was awoken by alarmed cries, saw a stray jelly, and immediately hurried over to the hunter's hill before even having breakfast.

On their way to the village, they come across Mrs. Hazel in her garden. The Leeseran angrily swats and pushes at an encroaching green jelly with a straw broom. The blob has found its way around the squirrel woman's short wall of piled stones and is in the process of oozing right through a fence meant to protect a carefully tended garden. No more than sticks held together with twine, the barrier offers little resistance to the gelatinous monster. Alice and Ashley veer toward the commotion, the hunter drawing her sword.

Mrs. Hazel's tiny daughter, Cloe, is looking worriedly on from the doorway of the Leeseran's hillside burrow. She notices the approaching pair and begins pointing excitedly, “Mom, look it's Alice!”

The mother squirrel gives the jelly another solid whack, doing nothing more than making the intruder ripple some, before frantically gesturing to her garden, “Alice, please, before it gets my vegetables!”

The red-furred fox raises her blade high, calling for Mrs. Hazel to step well away. The weapon is brought down hard, lopping off the entire back end of the invader. Cutting clear into dirt, Alice then gives her blade a quick jerk, further separating the cleaved hunk before flinging it out into the grass with a spray of earth. This doesn't slow the jelly at all, the blob merely rounding back out while oozing straight for what looks to be a row of bell pepper plants. Minding the bystanders, Alice quickly slices off several more generous chunks, reducing the jelly's size with each carefully aimed strike. In moments, when the jelly is no bigger than a soup bowl, Alice reaches in to pluck out its core stone. Once removed, the remaining jelly collapses into an inanimate puddle.

Sword stuck point first into the soil at her feet, the victorious fox accepts the waterskin a cheering Ashley had brought, immediately pouring water over her new core and tingling fingers.

Mrs. Hazel rejoices in relief from her doorway, “Oh, thank you, Alice. We are so fortunate to have someone around to help deal with those,” the mother Leeseran flitters her fingers at the jelly's remains, “things.” She then asks Alice to wait a moment, disappearing into her home.

Cloe bounds out to Alice, careful to avoid the jelly bits scattered about, “That was amaz-oh...” the little squirrel pauses, placing fingers over her nose, “...they stink!”

Piercing the especially viscous outer layer of a jelly causes a stench like fetid water and decay to plume forth in an invisible cloud. Alice had grown used to it but the odorous emission tended to surprise most.

The hunter grins, shaking a few lingering drops from her prize, “Yeah, they do that,” then points to the jelly's remains, “Tell your momma not to step on the jelly goo. Just toss some dirt over it and leave it 'til it dries.”

Mrs. Hazel reappears, the broom that had been in her hand replaced with a few small, round biscuits. She offers these to Alice, repeating how grateful she is.

Cloe, her long fluffy tail flicking about, excitedly tells her mother, “Momma, Momma, Alice said not to step on the stinky goo bits and we should toss dirt on 'em till they're dry and ooo, can I have a biscuit?”

Mrs. Hazel asks the smaller squirrel, “Did you just slay an evil monster?” The girl frowns, brown furred ears and tail drooping. Alice hands her one of the three she received and Cloe immediately brightens. Just as the squirrel child tries to take a bite, Mrs. Hazel raises a finger, chiding, “Ah! What do we say when someone gives us something?”

“Thank you, Alice!” Cloe says dutifully, beginning to nibble on the treat.

Alice smiles, turning to leave as she is thanked once more. She sees Ashley grinning widely at her and gives the opossum a biscuit as well. Stepping back out onto the road, they munch on the hard baked confections, finding them to be sweetened by honey and crunchy with nuts. While sharing the snack, a Murrin boy calls to them from further along.

The little mouse waves his tiny arms frantically, “Alice! We got a jelly, come quick!”

Alice and Ashley look to each other, stuff the rest of their biscuits into their mouths, hurrying after the boy. He leads them to the village's communal orchard where the pair can see several people worriedly looking on at something happening among a stand of near leafless trees.

The Murrin points to the gathering, “It's over there! A big one!”

Closer now, Alice spots a large, lime green jelly under attack by two women. They take turns, chopping and stabbing at the blob with a lumber axe and pitch fork, desperately to stop its slow but steady progress toward Toki's precious melora trees. The spring apples were finally fruiting after enduring the harshness of winter and no one wanted to see them destroyed by the gluttonous creature. While Alice had never seen a jelly climb, and was fairly certain they couldn't, if fallen fruit kept one near long enough, the corrosive goop of its body could still damage the trunk and any surface roots the monster lingered over. This jelly had already taken several meloras, the small yellow apples floating within it appearing to rapidly decay.

The women strike without tact, piercing and cutting the absorbed apples yet doing the monster no real harm. Were the core to be damaged they could defeat the jelly, but even when one of their wild attacks gets near, the little orb simply flows around the women's iron, avoiding blade and prong completely. Alice isn't sure if the core's movements are an act of self-preservation or just the nature of the goop housing it, though is glad for it in any case. If the women cracked the core, she wouldn't be able to claim it herself.

Sword drawn, Alice shouts for all to step away. The jelly has wobbled to the base of one of the melora trees, already oozing over some of its roots. Not wanting to damage the squat tree, its fruit being an important source of food for the village, Alice carefully angles her cuts to remove jelly while leaving the roots unharmed. It takes considerably longer, and is quite a bit messier, than her usual method of cleaving off chunks, but, with effort, she achieves a similar result. With the jelly now much smaller and the dangerous barrier between its core stone and the young hunter vastly thinner, Alice is able to pluck out the treasure, causing the remaining jelly to collapse.

The villagers cheer the Tokala's success, giving their thanks and a few meloras. Alice gratefully accepts the fruit, tossing one to an enthusiastically cheering Ashley while instructing the villagers to wash away the remaining goo on the roots with plenty of water. The pair then leave the villagers to their picking, eyes and ears alert for anyone else in need of help. Not immediately finding any, Alice decides to head for the well, wanting to restore her own supply of water.

Ashley bubbles beside her, “That was so wags! You were like, 'Get back!' and then whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!” The opossum takes a few swings with an imaginary sword before biting into her melora.

Alice grins, taking a bite from another. The fruit isn't at its peak yet, a tinge of sourness underlining otherwise crisp sweet flesh. Even so, they make for a decent meal.

Nearing the village center, the two hear a familiar voice say pleasantly, “There you are,” and turn to see Mrs. Grayson walking toward them, hands behind her back.

Ashley blurts, “Mom, Alice beat two jellies that were attackin' the village!”

“I heard,” Mrs. Grayson nods, then looks to Alice, “Toki owes you a fair bit of gratitude, Ms. Dippleblack. Though I hope this'll do.” The opossum mother reveals the blouse she had been concealing, holding it out to the young hunter.

A simple garment, faded from the blue it once was to an off-white, it's been stitched up more than a few times. Still, it's significantly better than the frayed, heavily goo stained one Alice is wearing.

Tail wagging, the fox accepts the blouse, feeling over the light fabric and admiring how clean it is, “Wow, thanks, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Mmm,” the mother opossum smiles, “I was going to give it to Ashley but I thought you could use it a little more. We can't have Toki's hero running around in rags now can we?” She then looks to her daughter, “As for you, I could use your help at the store.”

“But Mom, I'm helpin' Alice fight the jellies,” whines Ashley.

“I'm sure she can manage. Come along,” Mrs. Grayson insists, turning back the way she'd come.

“Oh,” Ashley grumbles defeatedly, following after her mother. She then says over her shoulder, “I'll see you later, Alice! Give those jellies a few chops for me!”

“I will. And thanks again, Mrs. Grayson!” Alice calls after the pair, waving her new blouse merrily.

As the fox watches the mother and daughter depart, a little pang reverberates in her gut, taking her cheer. It's a familiar hollowness that she used to mistake for hunger, though knew now that no amount of food could satisfy the unpleasant sensation. Alice recognizes it as the sense that something important is missing, something she once had but long ago lost. The ache came every now and again as if to remind that the emptiness still lingered. With the deeply echoing throb, some unwelcome thought cruelly points out that there is no one at home waiting for her. No one to come looking if she is away too long. No one to fuss or worry over her.

The smile brought on by so generous a gift falls as the young hunter watches Ashley jabbering excitedly to her mother, too far now to hear but no doubt going on about the morning's excitement. Once the Didels are out of sight, Alice is able to roughly shove the thoughts aside, assuring herself, as she had done many times, that there was no benefit to them. Having found distraction to often be useful in dispelling these glooms, she quickly cleans off her sword, refills her waterskin, and resumes the hunt.

It's hours later when Alice calls it quits for the day. After defeating two more jellies around the village, she had taken to searching the fields for any remaining threats, snagging two more cores from jellies slowly heading in the general direction of the village. These, plus the morning's, brought her up to six green cores. Not a bad haul, but the lack of sleep and exhaustion from her battles is catching up to her. Tired and dirty, the young hunter decides it's time for a bath.

Alice makes her way to the stream that passes near Toki on the northern side. A popular spot for fishing, swimming, and cleaning, it was almost always in use, prompting the Tokala to take the time to find a secluded little area among some brush. She leaves her things on a few rocks along the grassy shore before wading in. The stream is much wider than it is deep and she has to slog out several yards just to be able to get the water up to mid thigh. Taking a seat on the muddy bottom, Alice feels her clothes and fur soak through instantly. It's late in the day now but the sun has kept the waters warm, making it very pleasant over the weary hunter's aching muscles. She enjoys it for a moment while searching along the shore. Sure that there is no one around, the fox undresses.

Water heavy clothes in her lap, Alice meticulously combs through her fur, desiring to rid it of any dirt, grime, and stubborn bits of dried jelly goo. Her fingers glide over the black tips of triangular ears, through the fur of sunset red cheeks, and down the white of slim neck and chest. She then picks through the auburn along both arms and legs, and the black of hands and feet. Full and thickly furred, the young fox spends an especially long time on her red tail, it tending to gather an abundance of dust from sitting on the ground so much, particularly on the white tip. Only once her coat is thoroughly cleaned does she move on to worn brown trousers and tattered blouse. The latter used to be white but is now a storm cloud gray with dirt where it isn't stained green from the hunter's many battles. After doing what she can, Alice lounges back, letting the stream's slow current take slender limbs adrift.

She is only allowed a few minutes of relaxation when a noise jolts her from it, one instantly recognizable as wood being chopped. Alice lowers into the water, letting only her head show, ears perked. A quick search around reveals Arnold Duncan along the stream bank, Alice's sword gripped in his meaty hands. The thief has managed to lodge it into the trunk of a young tree and now tries to yank the blade loose.

“Hey! That's mine!” Alice shouts, struggling to pull on her pants while keeping her modesty.

The boy glances disinterestedly over to her, shifting his bulk around to get a hairy foot on the tree, using the added leverage to yank some more.

Arnold is an Urock, a people well known for their size and he is no exception. Even three years younger than Alice, the bear boy surpasses her in both height and weight, the latter significantly. In fact, from Alice's current perspective, he very much resembles a large furry pear that's managed to clothe itself, but one with only a limited understanding of its own shape. As he tugs futilely at the handle of the trapped weapon, his taut red shirt, though struggling valiantly, fails to cover much of his generous belly.

“Get away from my sword!” Alice demands, splashing noisily in her rush to reach the shore, “Now!”

With a final unrewarded tug, Arnold gives up his efforts, turning to face the approaching fox with a claim of, “It ain't yours! I found it. It's mine now.”

“Give it back or...” Alice nearly slips in some mud.

Arnold mistakes the pause to be a sign of weakness and advances with all the confidence of one certain that greater mass is the end of any conflict. Alice knows it's worked for him in the past if the tales she'd heard from Ashley are to be believed. His father, like most, was called away to fight in the war and has yet to return. Too young to be drafted at the time, Arnold remained in the village with his mother. Lacking a father's firm guidance and with size offering a decided advantage, Arnold had since become a well known menace to Toki's younger residence. But, being reputed to get away with so much because of his visible bulk, Alice doubts that he's actually learned to wield it to any great effect. Looking at him now, stance wide and pudgy fists at his hips, unprepared for any sort of attack, Alice feels certain that he hasn't. She and Arnold were opposites in this way. While he has a larger body that rarely sees use, life has forced Alice to use her lithe frame often, and well.

The hefty Urock's mind is slow to warn him something is off. At this point, the smaller person is supposed to cower and run away; maybe toss a few names or start to cry, but run away just the same. The Tokala is running toward him, a hand over her chest, like there's anything there to see anyway. Is she just stupid? Running the wrong way? She doesn't look right either. Not teary-eyed and scared, but narrow-eyed and angry, even showing her teeth. Doesn't she see how big he is? Way bigger than her. Stronger, too. Figuring she needs to see just how strong, Arnold raises a clawed paw high and back in preparation to swipe. Timing his attack absorbing the entirety of his focus, Arnold is taken completely by surprise when he's slapped in the face with something wet.

Hurling her soaked blouse at the bear boy blinds him for a second, freeing Alice to take a two-handed grip on the fist sized stone her foot found in the mud. Ducking a flailing paw, she brings it down as hard as she can on one of Arnold's bare feet. On contact, he howls in pain, reaching down in an attempt to take hold of his stricken foot. Losing his balance, the Urock topples over while Alice, still in motion, passes him and races for her new blouse. She slips it on and dashes to her sword. Seesawing the blade, she is able to dislodge the weapon from the young wood grasping it. A quick glance at Arnold show's he's still on the ground rolling about, somehow having managed to grab hold of his foot even over so generous a belly, former husky bravado abandoned in favor of wailing for his mommy.

Seeing this, Alice takes her time collecting her things, contemplating what is to be done next. Feeling the boy would benefit from a lesson, lest he do this again, she approaches, looking down distastefully at him with sword blade resting on one shoulder. The young hunter's teeth are clenched. She is angry: angry that he disturbed her, angry that he'd taken from her, and angry that he now had the nerve to whine about the results, though she does her best to show only contempt. Once the sobbing bear has regained enough composure for the effort, he accuses her of breaking his toes.

“Yeah, and that was just with a rock. What do you think I could do with this?” she says, looking admiringly along the edge of her sword.

Arnold continues to wail, struggling to keep hold of supposedly broken toes over his girth.

Examining the possibility that he may not have been listening, Alice deftly brings her sword's tip around to hover inches before the boy's face. He pauses then, whimpering but surrendering his full attention.

More than a bit of irritation leaking into her voice, Alice declares harshly, “If you ever touch my things again, I'm gonna skin you alive.” Arnold shrinks away from her as she continues in a more disinterested tone, watching her blade catch the lowering sun as she twists it before him, “It gets cold in winter,” she then looks into Arnold's wide eyes, “And a bear skin coat sounds like a mighty fine thing to have.”

A quickly expanding blotch appears in the center of the boy's trousers.

Alice smirks, straightening, “Don't you go ruinin' my coat.”

Arnold doesn't even seem to notice, beady black eyes never leaving the sword's meticulously sharpened tip. Satisfied, Alice skillfully sheathes her weapon, turning to head back to her tent, leaving the boy and his puddle.

Still uncomfortably wet when she arrives, Alice takes advantage of her hill top home to survey the land. Seeing no one near in the fields and the village being a safe distance off, she feels comfortable stripping back down. Hanging damp clothes on her line of twine, the fox shakes vigorously, shedding water and fluffing fur. Alice then takes her sword to the sunniest spot available so she might dry.

During the routine inspection of the blade, the Tokala is displeased to find a new nick along the edge. It's one of many, but this one is definitely new, and almost certainly caused by an overweight Urock. Alice mutters darkly to herself, retrieving her well-worn whetstone to begin working it out. Smoothing and resharpening the slight bit of damaged steel is a time consuming process, allowing Alice to think. Considering that with the cores she'd earned today, she could trade for a decent bit of food. It was very unlikely that Mr. Ardolf would have another batch of smoked trout ready so soon after his last, leading Alice to the possibility of buying more bread. Plain brown bread is fairly cheap and if she traded all six of her new cores, she could get enough to supply another expedition.

Mrs. Grayson used the word when Alice had been describing her first true foray into the massive forest bordering the fields around Toki. It sounded very grown-up and professional to the young hunter so she promptly adopted the term, titling all of her ventures into the jelly's domain, “expeditions.” It was infrequent that the fox managed to store enough food for one but when she did, an expedition had to be planned. These campaigns into enemy territory were vital, for it was in the forest that the other colored jellies hid.

Common were the greens but rare and more valuable are the cores of the browns, blues, yellows, and the ever illusive reds. Alice had slain the only red jelly she had ever seen, its crimson core stone contributing significantly to the purchase of the tent she lived in now. The hunter has little idea why there are different colors. Her few encounters with the uniquely hued jellies offered no overt differences in the monsters or their behavior. They still remained ponderously slow, just as viscous as the greens, just as smelly too, and completely indifferent to being struck with her sword. It is to Alice's benefit, though, since being no more difficult to slay means the colorful creatures only offered greater reward for the same effort. This only applied to the battle however. The real challenge lay in finding the colorful fiends.

In the fields, one is far more likely to come across a jelly's trail, rather than a jelly itself. As the blobs pass through various grasses and other plants, they allow some to be absorbed into themselves. Like the apples of the orchard, anything passing through the monsters is assaulted by their corrosive goo. Engulfed matter appears to decay at a highly accelerated rate before being left in a jelly's wake as little more than a withered husk. Doing so in the fields causes an unmistakable trail of dead flora to form that, when followed, often leads to a jelly.

In the forest though, where the shadows of trees and layers of fallen leaves blanket the ground, grass grows much more sporadically, making jelly trails harder to notice. This means jellies take longer to find, but the possibility of obtaining a uniquely colored core still makes the effort worthwhile. Trading in the cores of the green 'field' jellies is usually sufficient to keep her fed, but to barter for other needed supplies, such as new clothing, waterskins, and whetstones, the added value of the rarer cores are a necessity.

After working on her blade for a time, Alice feels she's done all she can and gives her arms a much needed break. Looking skyward, the fox is surprised to see how late it's gotten, the sun barely a hand from the horizon. Body tired from the day's activities, the young hunter pushes herself to take up her core sack and heads back to Toki.

Walking briskly, she makes decent time and is nearly to the Grayson trading post, when a thunderous roar of, “Alice Dippleblack!” makes her jump.

Nearly losing her cores, Alice alertly looks to find a massive Urock approaching her from across the village's main dirt road. With the familiar stance of feet spread wide, heavy paws at hips, and beady black eyes glaring, the hunter immediately recognizes the mountain of fur as none other than Arnold Duncan's mother.

The imposing bear woman lumbers over, eyes fixed on the lone fox before her. Alice feels like she shrinks as the Urock nears, the contrast in their greatly differing sizes becoming more and more apparent. Mrs. Duncan gave her son a number of features, both sharing the same small rounded ears, full-cheeked faces, thick walnut coats, and expansive girths. So large is she that Alice's view is completely obstructed, plain beige dress, possibly formed from a pair of bed sheets, spanning even to her periphery. The hunter's gaze is forced up, and up again, to find Mrs. Duncan's glowering countenance, upper lip twitching over teeth like a dog noticing a hand venturing too near a favored bone.

“How dare you threaten my cub! MY CUB!” the behemoth booms, towering over Alice, shadow enveloping her completely.

Little else coming to the bewildered girl's mind, she shakenly utters, “Wuh-what?”

The irate Urock points a thick finger vaguely behind her, eyes locked on the fox, “My Arny says he was playing by the stream when you leapt from the water and attacked him. He says you swung that sword at him screaming you'd skin him alive and wear 'im as a coat!”

From behind the protection of his mother's tree trunk of a leg, Arnold peaks around at Alice, a devious grin on his face. An expression made ludicrous by the fact that Arnold hadn't yet changed out of his soiled trousers.

Seeing him, Alice snaps back, “That's a lie! He stole my sword while I was bathing!”

“Nuh-uh, she the one lyin', Momma!” Arnold is swift to counter, his grin turning into an ugly sneer.

“You got it stuck in a tree and even chipped the edge!” Alice throws back.

“I ain't never even touched it!”

“I just spent the last hour fixing the damage you did!”

“Liar!”

“You're the liar, and a thief, and a coward,” Alice points to the boy's trousers, “That stain proves it!”

“ENOUGH!” Mrs. Duncan erupts, silencing the two. She then reaches over Alice's shoulder to the handle of her sword, “I always knew you were too young to keep something so dangerous. Now you've gone and threatened my cub!” Alice's tail tucks between her legs as she swiftly backs away, only kept from fleeing by some deeply ingrained respect for the authority of an angry adult. Mrs. Duncan hits her with a fiery glare for even that bit of defiance, “You will give it here this instant!”

The Urock tries for the sword once more but Alice backs away again, though this time daring to shout, “No! It's mine!”

Like her son, Mrs. Duncan was not accustomed to being challenged. Her well-rounded but still considerable size, along with her race's reputation for fierce strength, generally kept such instances to a minimum. And so, the very idea that she would suffer any kind of affront irks her greatly. That it was due to a child, a mere slip of a girl, elevated things further to infuriating. But what truly made this moment so enraging was that it was happening in front of others, several villagers, attracted by the noise, now having stopped to watch.

Very conscious that her valued reputation may be at risk, not to mention that of her people, Mrs. Duncan once more approaches the slender fox, a warning paw rising with the demand of, “You will hand over that sword right now, or I will-!”

“Mrs. Duncan, that will do!”

The Urocks and Tokala, along with a growing assembly of passerbys, look to Mrs. Grayson coming from the direction of the trade post.

“This doesn't concern you, Linda,” growls Mrs. Duncan, though she pauses her advance.

“It concerns one of my best customers, and so it does indeed concern me, Elizabeth,” the Didel returns hotly, coming to stand at the fox girl's back, needing to look up but meeting the Urock's eyes.

“You defend this,” Mrs. Duncan points an accusing claw at Alice, “wild child, after she threatened my cub?!”

Alice feels the opossum mother's hands perch upon her shoulders, a slight shake to them but firm in support as she admits, “I don't know what happened between your Arnold and Alice. What I do know is that your boy has become quite the troublemaker of late. My Ashley has come to me more than once, with tears in her eyes, after Arnold purposely stepped on her tail.”

“Lies! My son is a paragon!” the bear mother roars, baring her teeth.

“Hardly...!” is all Mrs. Grayson gets out as angry, mostly young, voices from the crowd begin to reveal similar grievances involving, but not limited to, pushing, scratching, name calling, tail pulling, and even property damage all perpetrated by Arnold.

Reinforced by the other villagers, Mrs. Grayson gives Alice's shoulders a squeeze, needing to say loudly over the claims of Arnold's many victims, Ashley among them, “So I tend to believe Alice when she says Arnold was the one who instigated whatever occurred between them.”

Mrs. Duncan glances around, hot embarrassment only fueling her rage further, but just as she is about to hurl molten fury at the two before her, Mrs. Grayson adds, fur bristled, tail held high, own small sharp teeth bared, “And if you don't get your boy in check, you'll have to find somewhere else to do your bartering.”

The Urock rises to her full height, looking like she might still explode, but some part of the Didel's threat makes it past her raging wall of anger. Dark eyes glance furtively around at those watching once more and, with a few fuming but thought clearing huffs, Mrs. Duncan grabs hold of her son by an arm. Turning away, she stomps back the way she had come, villagers hurrying to clear her path, with Arnold practically dragging behind her.

Alice catches herself, legs nearly giving out as she watches the bears go, breaths coming rapidly as if she'd forgotten to take any during the confrontation. She shivers a bit, nerves only beginning to settle, and looks back to the mother opossum, knowing she would have crumbled without the support, “Thanks, Mrs. Grayson.”

Only once they're out of sight does the Didel's usually well-kempt coat fall back into place, smoothing her features, bare tail drifting back to the ground. She then looks to the young fox, turning the Tokala by the shoulders to face her directly, “Alice, you should know better than to antagonize that woman.”

Hurt by what feels like an unjust reprimand, the Tokala whines, “But Arnold stole my sword and even chipped it.”

“I have no doubts that he did,” assures the Didel, “That boy's been a problem for a while now. But I have to tell you, if Mrs. Duncan lost any more of her temper,” she looks back after the Urocks to be sure they're gone, “I don't know if the whole village together could have stopped her from tearing you apart. I think you should try to avoid them whenever you can from now on, okay?”

Alice frowns, blinking and sniffling, while considering whether or not to explain what had happened by the stream. Instead, she just decides to reply glumly, “Okay,” and then thinks of what the mother opossum risked, and perhaps even sacrificed, on her account, “I'm sorry, Mrs. Grayson.”

The Didel reaches out to give Alice a reassuring hug, “It's alright, all's well now.”

Ashley squeezes in between them, wrapping arms around both, “Phew, that was tense.”

“Hush child,” the mother opossum chides, releasing the fox girl.

The gathered crowd, seeing things have settled for the time being, return to their business and Alice offers hopefully, “I have some more cores to trade, if you're still open.”

Mrs. Grayson smiles and nods, leading them all to her store.

Ashley sidles up beside Alice, “D'you really say you'd skin Arnold and wear him like a coat?”

The Tokala smirks, “Maybe.”

The opossum girl laughs, “Ha, you're so brave Alice. I wish I could tell him off like that. Oh, that boy is just awful.”

In the trade post, Ashley is telling her fox friend about a time Arnold stepped on her tail.

“And then, instead of even apologizing, he kicked it and told me it'd happen next time too if I ever let my tail get in front of his feet again. He is just rotten through and through,” she finishes, fists shaking at her sides.

This helps dispel any guilt Alice feels as she hands over her cores for a few round loaves of decent bread. They're of a higher quality, and thus a bit more expensive than what she had been planning on, but they're all Mrs. Grayson has left.

Ashley wonders, “Why're you gettin' all that? You know they're probably gonna go stale before you can finish 'em off.” She suddenly inhales, eyes widening, “Oh, are you goin' on another expedition?”

Alice grins, “Yup, plan to head out first thing tomorrow.”

“I wish I could go with you! We could explore the forest, and hunt jellies-”

“But you have responsibilities right here,” Mrs. Grayson interrupts, handing her daughter a broom. Ashley lets out a disgruntled moan and the mother opossum says to Alice, “Be careful out there, dear. You meet any trouble, you come right back, ya hear?”

“I will,” assures Alice, cramming as much of the bread into her core sack as she can and heading back out.

Ashley sweeps beside her, “Good luck, hope you get tons o' nice cores!” she then gets closer to whisper, “and maybe find me a good clubbin' stick if you can.”

“I'll try,” Alice whispers back.

The pair share a smile before saying aloud their goodbyes.

Alice makes her way to the village's well, filling up all three of the waterskins she intends to take on tomorrow's venture. There is water in the forest, she knows, but experience has taught her that it's always good to have extra. The forest's waterways could be difficult to find and were often favored hunting spots for ferals, wild animals, some of which could be dangerous.

By the time Alice reaches her hill, the sun has already set. Worn to near collapse, she has a quick dinner of bread and water before retiring to her tent, very much looking forward to the days to come.

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