It was a sleepless, tear-jerking night. Even by morning, I refused to leave the tent; at least in here, I didn’t have to see all the tall grass that surrounded us.
Kimrel gave me some food, more jerky and some nuts. Clearly, everyone had gone hungry last night thanks to me. Frida was sleeping in thanks to me, exhausted from just how much magic she had to apparently pump into me.
“I’m so sorry,” Martrix told me. “You were gone so fast.”
“It’s not your fault,” I grimaced, spilling nuts as I tried to eat them. I was still in shock, probably, or something worse. I had no idea what exactly I was experiencing. It wasn’t Martrix’s fault. It was Candy’s.
“Yeah, but it is. We knew it was dangerous and we fucked up,” Martrix smiled weakly.
That was how you apologized.
“Where’s my arm?” I asked, looming up.
“Oh… Kimrel buried it away from camp,” she answered.
“Right,” I nodded, awkwardly feeling the stump with my remaining hand. There was no wound underneath the bandages. Apparently, sealing tissue was common when it came to healing magic. But every injury left a ghost. My wounds may have healed, but my cells remembered. I remembered.
When I closed my eyes, I could still practically feel it. And then suddenly, again and again, it just wasn’t there.
I was only done crying because I wasn’t sure my tear ducts could cry anymore. I had reached the limit. Now I was just numb.
No, I was angry.
I didn’t care anymore how much Candy could learn. I never wanted to hear her horrid voice again. I was so fucking done with all of it. Maybe she could learn, but while she took her slow time getting there, I was the one suffering.
It had gone too far. The moment we arrived in Agocester, I would get them to bring me to whoever could free me from this horrid curse of a slime.
Oh, I was crying again. I guess I hadn’t reached my limit.
Petven returned soon after with some kind of dead horned rabbit thing. He skinned it and cooked it on the small fire. As if eating rabbit meat with your hands wasn’t hard enough, I only had one. Martrix had to help me retrieve a dropped piece more than once.
Frida was up with the smell of food. She looked weathered, though I imagined still better than I. She checked my injuries and gave me more bitter juice to drink. Fluttering around me like a helpful moth.
No one was smiling this morning, certainly not me.
I couldn’t help pack up camp, let alone dress myself or tie my shoes. I was still caked in dry blood. I didn’t have any other clothes, and I certainly couldn’t wash them in my drugged, depressive state.
And then I had to walk again, legs numb like stilts, surrounded on all sides by tall grass full of sharp teeth. Kimrel provided a strong, sturdy arm to cling to as I tripped over myself.
I had lost an arm. I had lost a limb, and it would never be coming back. Up until now, I was able to bounce back from everything shitty, but this… even more so than Candy, this changed my life for good. There was no coming back from this.
The Tavern Crew was on high alert. Perven had solved the mystery of the toppled cart at some point while I was unconscious. The horse had been spiked by the raptors, the driver had gone chasing after his horse, and both had been killed and eaten. It didn’t make me feel better that I had gotten the longest stick of the bunch.
Considering I could barely stand on my own, the day of travel flew right by. Though mostly due to my own state of general dissociation.
The grassland rose into hills, where Agocester stood tall and proud. It had an exterior wall, and that wasn’t even counting the very medieval castle which stood at the peak of the hill. The road had become somewhat populated, or populated compared to how it had been. A small handful of people was still far more than zero. We were already walking past pastures with grazing cattle and sheep. Large fields of crops stretched practically the rest of the way to the town, peppered by the occasional simple building.
It was an amazing sight, a fantastical city in a magical world. Yet I could barely take any of it in. I was also high out of my mind, which definitely didn’t help.
There was a market by the town gate, farmers with fresh produce, merchants with supplies, cheese makers, and so much more. It all blurred into noise.
The walking wasn’t done. We continued down twisting cobbled streets, past shoemakers, bakers, and tailors.
We arrived at a nice-looking, tall building. A hanging sign sported an insignia with a wolf. Even in my dazed state, I eventually figured out this was the Wolfbit Mercenary Company.
The Tavern Crew got paid, good for them. And there were actual rooms here. Well, one big room for all of them, a home base of sorts at the top of an outdoor staircase. I struggled to take in everything, but Frida just ushered me to one of the beds and gave me more tonic to sleep.
I woke up later in a cold sweat. The others played cards at a table off to the side. Kimrel stoked the fireplace while Petven dealt another round of cards out. The space was crowded and somewhat cluttered, but cozy. Fur rugs, spare weapons, and lanterns hanging from wooden crossbeams.
It reminded me of some kind of clubhouse.
I was wearing different clothes; I had no idea how that had happened. It was a simple, vaguely nun-like robe with nothing else. The last day was a blur, and now I felt like a fever had just broken. My head was crystal clear, cracklingly so. There was no hope of more sleep; I couldn’t get comfortable. Every time I stopped thinking about my arm, my next attempt to do something was a brutal reminder of what I had lost.
I didn’t want to play cards. I couldn’t even play cards one-handed. I stayed in bed.
Frida brought me stew and checked my injuries again. What was she even checking? I didn’t even have scars.
“Well… good news is that I didn’t fuck anything up,” she smiled apologetically. “You should start to feel better over the next few days as the magic works its way out of your system.”
“Okay,” I muttered, lips cracked and dry. She helped me eat my stew. “I have a question?” I asked, working up the courage before I lost it. It had to be done, and I refused to wait any longer.
“Yes?” She hummed.
“How do you get rid of a parasitic slime?” I asked.
“Pamela,” Candy warned. “Don’t!”
“It’s been siphoning my experience practically since I got here,” I continued. “I know I should have mentioned it, but… It’s been a long few days.”
“That’s okay,” Frida smiled. “Though it’s a bit odd, I didn’t notice it before. Hold on,” she hummed, raising her palm as it glowed with blue light. It didn’t burn this time, but I certainly felt… observed.
“You stupid, stupid—“
I ignored her.
“Oh,” Frida hummed. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I grimaced.
“I need to um… I need to go inform the mages guild at once,” Frida explained, clearly freaking out a little. “It seems to be giving off the signature of a mythic tier creature, and if that’s true, that’s very bad.”
“Take your time,” I nodded, pulling the blanket back over me.
Frida very quickly whispered to her companions before bolting from the room.
“You need to run, right now!” Candy hissed. “Why would you do something so profoundly stupid. You idiot!”
Oh, she was pissed. Her anger was delightful. I awkwardly fumbled to eat the rest of my stew, rather self-satisfied.
“Why would I run?” I muttered quietly.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll start eating organs,” she hissed.
“Well, I’d really love to avoid that, but given my current circumstances, I doubt I’d get very far,” I pointed out.
“Pamela, they will kill me!” Candy pleaded.
“Shame you don’t have anyone who cares about you then,” I sneered.
Candy was quiet for a moment. “What would I have to do to make you care about me?”
I snorted. What an absurd question. Was there anything Candy could do? No. There wasn’t. That wasn’t how this worked.
“At every point, you have chosen to hurt me for your benefit. You just threatened to kill me yourself if I did not comply. For me to care about you, I need to respect you, I need to trust you, and I need to be able to rely on you,” I explained quietly. “So no, Candy, there’s nothing you can do to magically change things. I won’t put up with you anymore, I’m done.”
“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “Please, Pamela, I don’t want to die.”
I stared at the spot where my arm used to be. “Sorry doesn’t fix everything you’ve done.”
Maybe it was unfair, but if I didn’t put a stop to this now, then it would only get worse. And I wouldn’t subject myself to that.