You can Go on Living; Answers Come to Those Who Wait

Durroum, that's Durroum with a rolling R—he was very particular about that—found himself more horse-faced than even his mare as he finished another useless inquiry. They should be well away from this city now, but Amm Par had insisted that he ask around about the children.

If they had been able to communicate, he might have known her actual name was Moonlight Guardian. But they couldn't, so he called her Amm Par, a snow monster that supposedly consumed people who wandered out into the Snowblinds of the upper Bellfrost mountains—a story used to keep children from wandering off in New Praven. A fine nickname, as far as those things went, but he would prefer to know her actual name. Bromar knew he had tried to teach her his own, but dogs had a better command of language.

Her reaction upon reaching this bustling city had brought him an amused grin. Though she didn't get all wide-eyed like some country bumpkins did when first seeing a city with buildings taller than a grain silo, her head moved back and forth in an erratic pattern, taking in the sights. She always scanned for danger—part of the reason he had taken her along—but this lacked her methodical scouting. Sometimes, he would catch her staring at shop decals or window displays like high-end moving toys. He had felt glad their supplies needed to be replenished and forced this stop.

Until she started making demands. Asking, in her way, that he inquire about the children she so desperately wanted to find. This posed a problem. While a brief resupply trip was welcome, a not-so-brief information recon was not. Only Amm Par wouldn't take no for an answer. He could just leave her, but Durruom was growing increasingly sure that he wouldn't make it without her.

He had "recruited" her, primarily for city runs, such as this. Urban areas harbored dark alleys and a myriad of buildings from which to launch an ambush, not to mention a crowd to blend into. So he had been taken completely by surprise when they ran into wave after wave of grelmhiem. Travelers through the Raincaster Region were bound to have run-ins with those humanoids, but they had at least several encounters a day; completely unheard of. Add to that several "bandit" encounters once they entered Alocast, a nation where banditry was severely punished and nearly eradicated, and Durroum feared he might have pissed off the wrong people. Well, nothing new. He made a point of not regretting his decisions.

However, he wished this “decision” would stop insisting on a futile search. His head dropped as Amm Par pointed to another group of people to question, when a last ploy to communicate the futility occurred to him. Pulling out the map, he tapped Amm Par's shoulder to regain her attention. He needed to tell her they weren't here, but further along. Gesturing, he indicated their current city. She pinched the bottom of her mask, then nodded. Great, she understood. He then referred to the sketches of the children and pointed to a place further up the map. Not his destination, that would be unrealistic.

Amm Par shook her head. Not because she didn't understand, but because she disagreed. It had taken Durroum a while, but he had eventually learned the difference between a disagreeing and discontented telepathic thought. He tapped on the map again, but she looked away, resolute in her disagreement and assertively pointed her finger at the previously gestured group. His head dropped even lower.

Night fell, and Moonlight Guardian felt mentally drained from having to force her human companion to ask around for the children. He had been very reluctant, even insisting that the captors had gotten farther than she thought possible; they couldn't be moving faster than they were. They had cargo and would need to cut through all those grelmhiem with just lousy human warriors.

She had confidence they were here… at first. The city dwarfed any city she had seen thus far with towering buildings that could have housed a tribe several times larger than her own; it had to be the biggest in the world. If they weren't here, then they must have passed through. Smiles’ question only turned up one lead. One man said he thought he saw something like that move through several weeks ago. Moonlight Guardian was shocked to hear how fast they moved.

It was too late to head out, she knew that. But how did one turn in for the night in a strange human settlement? In yutsuukitsuu society, you would just find an agreeable person to put you up, whether for a night or an entire sojourn; volunteers were always forthcoming. Here, though, everyone seemed distant. They didn't even bother introducing themselves to the Elder. Did this place even have an Elder? It would probably take many Elders to administer this city.

However, she tolerated this human companion for exactly this reason, so he could handle this human stuff. He led them to a stout building with a lot of the chatter humans loved so much. Instead of knocking or announcing himself, he entered, revealing a den that very much reminded Moonlight Guardian of the place they had escaped from the soldiers. In fact, she would be hard-pressed to point out the differences, save for the arrangement of furniture. Same wooden floors, same oversized tables and chairs—they were just right for humans, though—same portly man behind the counter, though this one had a full head of hair pulled back in a short tail. The smell was almost the same, too, but this one had an accent of human sweat.

Her companion exchanged some grunts with Hair-Tail and then set himself down at that long table alongside several other people. He gestured for her to take one of the open, round, and overly tall chairs. Well, she refused to wedge herself between a bunch of humans; the noise alone was reason enough, but the Deity knows she had plenty more. Instead, she found a nearby empty table and took a seat, causing him to shrug and turn back to the heavy table.

Last time she had entered such an establishment, they had presented her with a serving of human food, not too different from what she was used to; it was mostly in the choice of spices and seasonings. She figured it would be the same this time, but would they be spending the night here as well? Maybe this was like a community den where anyone who needed temporary lodging could rest. That would make sense.

A middle-aged woman placed a bowl of stew in front of her, and she accepted; it smelled of meat and spices she was unfamiliar with. It had been a long day of prodding her human escort, and hunger had seized her. However, as she gave a nod to the server, she noticed more than a few sets of eyes on her. In fact, she felt that everyone had their beady eyes on her, some more discreet than others. The hairs on her body started to stand on end. She had entered the lion's den, and the lion had noticed.

When she turned to her companion, however, he showed not the least bit of alarm. In fact, he seemed to be conversing with the whole room and having a good time while doing so. He laughed as someone in the corner grunted and took a slosh of his alcohol. Hopefully, this revelry wouldn’t go on all night. It reminded her of when everyone got drunk back home and made themselves a nuisance for close to a week. Thankfully, the merchant only came through once a cycle.

While he was knocking back his cup, the man behind the table suddenly pointed at her, wide-eyed. Her red-haired companion pulled in close to him, though he currently had it tucked under a cap, and he looked over as well, only he stared at the lute she had set on the table. She pulled it in close, draping a warding sleeve. He sighed and lightly shook his head.

Well, who knows what they were on about, but she wouldn’t let them near her lute. They exchanged some additional communication, concluding with Smiles turning to face and pointing to her. He then pulled his left hand up and away, palm up, and started shaking his other fist in front of him. What the heck is he... Oh, she made the connection. He was imitating strumming an instrument. He finished and then pointed to her again.

Moonlight Guardian understood now. He and nearly the entire room looked on with a degree of anticipation. But she wouldn't be indul

"See? I told you," Durroum said with resignation. "She won't play that lute in front of anybody."

"That really is a shame," the innkeeper said, cleaning a mug. "So you really have never heard her play it? Are you sure she even can, and doesn't just have some sentimental attachment to it?"

"Oh, she definitely can." He put on a braggadocious grin. "She tunes it nightly, and you can tell. Even the sound of a single plucked string is hypnotic."

"You don't say." The innkeeper looked sceptical, as well he should—Durroum was known to exaggerate. "Not that I'm doubting she could play. Honestly, even if you could get her to strum open strings, I would still cover your ale and meals."

"I would be upset at having missed the opportunity for free room and board, but then again, if you had asked me to turn into a rabbit instead, I would have to be just as upset."

"Another mug, good sir," came a patron down the bar, waving an empty mug.

"Is she really that disagreeable?" he said, refilling the mug.

"She could be." Durroum rubbed his chin. "It's hard to say since she can't understand a single word of our language."

"That can't be," spoke another patron, with a slight slur. "How long you been traveling for? And she don’t understand a single word? Surely she at least knows your name."

"Not even my name. Trust me, I have tried at length, but I would have an easier time teaching a hougen Hozlovien mathematics. And I have no idea what her name is. I would love to ask, but once again, language eludes her."

"Are you sure she isn't just simple?" came another patron. Certainly a friendly group. Part of him wondered about the wisdom of talking to all these people, but he was never one to exercise sound judgment. Well, he wasn’t saying anything they could use against him.

"She certainly isn't simple. I know a little about her species. They communicate by sending their thoughts to each other, so they don't need language as we know it."

"You mean they can read minds!?" a drunken man slurred out, trying to protect his head.

"Don't worry, she can't do that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have this communication problem." That logic was sound enough to get him to relax.

"But surely it can't be that difficult to teach her your name," the innkeeper chimed back in.

"Sigh, let me show you." Durroum turned to Amm Par, immediately garnering her attention. Then, pointing to himself, he commenced the ritual. "D-u-r-r-o-u-m."

"D-u-r-r-o-u-m," Smiles entoned. Not this again. Moonlight Guardian had hoped he would be too tired tonight to perform his bizarre ritual. But he just couldn't let it rest. What the tempest did he feel was important enough to try conveying for the last several weeks? She wanted to wring her tail!

She looked on in frustration as Smiles turned and shrugged at the mug scrubber. However, Hair-Tail joined in, jabbing a finger at her companion and repeating the same utterance. Her face twisted; was that supposed to clarify anything?

Then her companion pointed back at Hair-Tail and said, "Almaud." She pulled her head back. A different, but probably related sound, going by the wide-eyed stare both were giving her, as if they had real hope of getting through to her this time.

Hair-Tail cast a scanning gaze across the room before settling and pointing to another person. "Bill," he said. That man hadn't been paying attention, but his head snapped over when he heard the sound. So the grunt had some relevance to him…

The man started throwing out wayward fingers to a half dozen more individuals with swelling gusto, pointing and issuing sounds, causing heads to turn, almost like they were being... Beckoned! An epiphany came with the clarity of the God of Clear Skies parting the storm, and her ears snapped to attention. Those sounds beckoned someone, someone specific! Hence, they were all unique.

For a moment, she lost awareness as her tail slapped like a kite praised by the Governess. Hair-Tail and her companion smiled broadly enough that their crescent grins could have joined forces forming a full moon. A flush rose to her ears, and she had to wrangle her tail back under control. How unbecoming… This only elicited a hearty laugh from the two.

"Durroum," he said again, placing his hands on his hips and waiting. Still blushing under the mask, she raised a hesitant finger to the red-haired man. He nodded with a smug look of satisfaction. He sounded some others, but she couldn't possibly remember such strange noises. She only recognized “Durroum” because the fool had barked it for a moon span.

Speaking of noises, the whole den had become much louder, with people pressing in close to their table-mates and hissing in hushed tones, casting darting glances and less darting fingers. It seemed those two’s spectacle had drawn attention to her. She fastened her hood, but doubted it would be of much good; the tail had probably given her away. Can’t believe I acted like a kite getting her mask…

Well, to the God of Weather with it! She had already made a fool of herself—might as well solidify her understanding. She started pointing to people, and Hair-Tail smiled as he gave the sound for each person. If she tried, she could distinguish the specific sounds he made, if not remember them. Finally, she had discovered the mystery of the strange ritual, and she had to push down her swelling pride, lest she embarrass herself again. However, this created a new question: why had he been so eager for her to learn how to beckon him with sound, when she couldn't vocalize? Unless he wanted her to recognize when somebody else called for him…

Wait! This could also be used to refer to specific people! It would make sense to use the same method, and why have another sound? Just one was more than enough. Her tail threatened to get away from her again, but she grabbed it and held it tight. With this realization, pieces started coming together, and another idea came to her. She pointed to one of the chairs at the long table.

"Stool," Durroum said, his eyes flashing. So she was right. Objects also had a sound associated with them. So the secret to this human communication lay in learning lots of these sounds. She looked around; this room alone had hundreds of objects. How did humans learn so many sounds? Maybe they learned them as they went along. Well, she better get into the habit. She pointed to the chair next to the stool.

"Stool," Durroum said again. She pulled her chin. Did she not understand after all? She raised a timid finger at a third chair. "Stool," the sound came again. Okay, what was going on? How could three objects have the same sound? How did you tell them apart? She frowned and set her finger to the table behind the "stools."

"Bar." Okay, at least this was different. She continued pointing: “chair”, “table”, “floor”, “lamp”, “table” again, “door”, “window”, another “chair”... She felt so close to understanding, but how could objects share a sound?. Well, they did share a form. Maybe they regarded them all as the same object?

Moonlight Guardian's head sank into her hands, finding purchase behind her mask. Humans were confusing and very good at giving her a headache; her hands sank into her head. If she had looked up, she would have seen Durroum looking with a bewildered smile. To him, this was a major breakthrough. Strange she should be giving off such frustration.

Unfortunately, they were both preoccupied: one in consternation, another in ego-stoking; otherwise, they might have noticed the conspicuous figure wearing a plain tunic with stitching at the collar, standing next to Durroum with a knife up his sleeve. If not so occupied, one of them might have noticed when this man deftly slid the sickled blade from his pocket and cut Smiles's satchel from his belt. Not until that man had made a hasty retreat, walking briskly past several tables of patrons, avoiding the attention running would bring, did Durroum’s suspicion return to him, and he noticed the absence of one personal item.

He shouted, grabbing her attention, as he rushed after this man, nearly dislodging several mugs of alcohol from red-faced humans. Confused, but unwilling to leave her escort unattended, she charged out after him, leaving a general confusion behind.

The night air had grown damp with moisture clinging to the stone streets as the temperature dropped. She easily spotted the two dashing down a street lit by dim overhead lights, but they soon turned into a narrow side alley.

Turning the corner, she bounded over, leaving the cutpurse oblivious of her arrival, despite the faint moonlight-cast shadow floating past him. He was so unaware that he ran into her pale form as he turned back to monitor his pursuer. Humans really were a slow lot—well, so was the average yutsuukitsuu, but she didn't consider them.

The color drained from his pockmarked face as he realized he was surrounded, Durroum on one side, Moonlight Guardian with her hand resting on her bone-white sword on the other. The short man quacked as the two closed the distance. He whimpered—Moonlight Guardian wondered what objects he was referencing—but Durroum shook his head, his cap askew, with a scowl and barked back.

She wondered what he would do to this man. To her, his transgressions were unclear, though she had noticed Durroum’s bag with him. Did he steal it? This never happened inside a tribe, so it seemed strange to her. Although they were both outsiders here, maybe that made them targets?

Wait! A sudden, terrifying realization seized her. She had left her lute back at the group den! If they were both targets for theft, then she certainly couldn't leave it unattended!

A cold sweat broke out over her palms and foot pads as she coiled to rush back. Durroum could handle his own issues; she needed to secure her cherished instrument. However, at that moment, several figures emerged from both ends of the alley, hands tucked into pockets and closing ground. A smile stretched across the possible thief's face and sounded a squeaking laugh. Walking past Durroum, he took a place right next to one of the newly arrived crew. They all wore that same crooked smile, many of them missing teeth.

Some more exchanging of human noises and their smiles only deepened as they rapped fists or lengths of wood or metal, while Durroum started to bare teeth. Well, she had already established they were unfriendly, but there were many different ways to be unfriendly. Best to wait and not act unwisely.

One of the bigger men grunted and tried to put his hand on Durroum’s shoulder, which he promptly shrugged off. The big man laughed and drew back his club. So they were that kind of unfriendly. Well, she had plenty of experience handling that.

Before he could drive his club forward, she had dashed forward, appearing behind him like an apparition, and took his arm off just above the elbow, hand still holding the length of wood. He might have regretted the loss if she hadn't taken his head off before he realized it was missing. His clan, unhappy about his untimely demise, seemed all too eager to avenge their fallen comrade. Moonlight Guardian dropped low, more than happy to oblige.

More untrained combatants. It amazed her that people would jump into combat without knowing the first thing about fighting. One would think they valued their lives more. Well, perhaps they were idiots, she thought, taking off the snarling head of a third as he swung on empty air. Another ran into her curved sword as he tried to bear hug her from behind. Did he really think he was being sneaky with footfalls like a Mason’s hammer?

Two more surrounded her, teeth bared, charging together. They swung their cudgels as she sidestepped, giving them a slight telekinetic pull forward, clubs finding alternative targets, and leaving them both howling in pain. She kindly put them out of their misery.

She found the last two: the man, she was now sure had stolen the bag, under the knee of Durroum, with another dead several strides away. He struggled, kicking and shouting, trying to get away, but a forceful crank of his arm got him to calm down. Their exchange of sounds brought a troubled look to Durroum’s shadowed face, but then he saw Moonlight Guardian and grinned. He grunted a few more sounds at the man under knee, before removing it from the small of his back. It went without saying that the short man tore out of there as fast as his thin legs would take him.

He sighed with a dreary lip curl. "… … …," he said to her, but she knew not why. "Amm Par." He pointed to her. "Amm Par." She tilted her head. "Amm Par." Then shifting his finger to himself. "Durroum." Oh! That was her reference, but how did he know? Maybe they just made them up as needed. If so, why did he get to make it up? Then again, it wasn't like she could speak. Maybe it was time to undertake that endeavor.

"Amm Par… … …" He clapped his hands together and gave a small bow. What is this? A show of reverence? Well, at least he recognized her contribution. Maybe he wasn't so bad... for a human.

They found the satchel lying on the ground close to one of the attackers. Other than being covered in blood, it didn't look any worse for wear. Durroum celebrated its recovery and doubly so when he pulled out a round metal pendant with intricate details. Relief washed over him, and she was left wondering why that medallion held such importance to him. Maybe she would have thought about it more if she hadn't remembered for the second time that she had left her lute behind and rushed back to retrieve it.