No Deals Will Be Struck

Off the side of the path was a small clearing, of which the girl claimed as her own for the time being. She carried the rind denizen over to it, coveting him as if he were a stuffed toy from her youth.

She wasn’t confident in her own first aid skills, but even more alien was the idea of remedying a mythical creature, such as this pumpkin shaped being. Something so complex and unique couldn’t just receive a bandage and be considered all better.

She wasn’t hopeless though. Within her bag was a collection of herbs and pine tree sap that when combined had healing properties. Mixing them together in a small vial of water, she formed a sticky liquid that she smothered over the creature's wounds.

Fortunately, the rind’s body seemed to accept the treatment well, as some of the more severe bite wounds and scratches closed up. All she could do after that was let him rest.

Peacefully did the little creature lay in a bedding of big soft leaves from a velvet vine. The girl's eyes were drawn to the creature's flaming heart as it softly beat, seeing it through a layer of translucent fuzzy skin and a central zipper.

Curiosity called her to experiment a bit with his biology. After all, how often did one see such a mythical oddity? To begin her exploration of this creature, she poked his belly, hearing a soft squeak leave his mouth. The cute sound forced her to prod a few more times, eventually awakening the little pumpkin.

“Huh?” he uttered. “I’m not dead, am I?” The rind asked, looking up to the girl for answers.

“We've all been slowly dying since birth if you think about it.”

Her pessimistic outlook confused and depressed the small rind in his moment of disorientation. But deep within he found a moderate amount of comfort to know he hadn’t passed on just yet, which gave him a reason to stand on his own two stubby feet.

What counted as hands, which appeared very mitten like, searched around his pumpkin head. They stopped anytime he felt an odd divot or tooth mark in his tough skin.

With a deep inhale, air flooded his core and lit his inner fire a few notches brighter. Then he closed his mouth tight, holding his breath until the unwanted marks buffed out proper.

“Much better,” the rind released his breath, unsure why his hands were a bit sticky now. “I appreciate your assistance back there.”

The girl considered thanking him as well for spitting fire at just the right time, but casually chatting with a supernatural creature took priority and caused her to simply stare at him, very awkwardly.

Just like her, the rind was a bit confused to see a girl out this late at night in such a dangerous area, but he realized that his appearance was by far the more peculiar view.

“How rude of me not to introduce myself…” As if putting on a show, the proud little rind stood tall, as tall as a 50 centimeter pumpkin creature could, then put one hand to his heart and the other up in the air. “I am the crown prince of Ursalem, Moliugas Vyras III, and I am at your service.”

The girl was familiar with that name, as was everyone in the nation, but she found it hard to believe such a powerful figurehead ended up being condensed down into a tiny thing like this. She couldn’t help but be washed over with skepticism.

“If what you say is true, why are you here as a rind denizen?”

“Have you not heard?” a bridge above his big eyes raised, reflecting the curious look one would give when in disbelief. “A curse was placed upon me. Now I seek the hand that cast it to turn me back, lest I stay this way forever.”

She wasn’t one to keep in touch with the latest events, especially not things going on beyond her village. However, she had heard rumors that the prince had gone missing after a lofty scandal, but paid little mind to it.

“You are a witch, aren’t you?” he pointed at her big hat. “I request to know your name, as well as your reason for being out here.”

“I am Saratoga. My mother has also been cursed, and I seek the Tears of Life to save her from her plight.” A time limit had also been placed on her journey, allotting her only 3 nights before her mothers life concluded on the day of Halloween.

As Moliugas learned of her race against time, he was moved by her motivation.

“Then it seems the two of us may be on a similar journey.” Moliugas stretched out his mitten-like hand as an offer for them to join forces. “Saratoga, I request that you help me defeat the one who cursed me. In return, I will help you gather those tears.”

She was cautious not to shake his hand. Not out of disrespect, but distrust to any sort of magical creature.

“Forgive me, but making deals with beings such as yourself could potentially be dangerous.” Seeing as Moliugas had fully recovered, she had no reason to stay any longer. So she packed her things up and marched up a grassy hill back to the path.

“I beg your pardon?!” Moliugas was deeply offended, sprinting out in front of her and holding out his hands to fruitlessly prevent her from passing. “I am no danger! On my honour as a prince, I would never betray you!”

His desperation started to peek through. The journey he'd been on thus far wasn't going as well as he'd hoped, so requesting another's aid seemed like a necessary step. 

Saratoga considered just ignoring him and walking true, but Moliugas’s spritely nature was endearing in a way, and he wasn't without his benefits, seeing as he could spit fire. No deals would be struck, but she was willing to humour his motives and allow him to follow her.