Dungeon 42

Marrowane

Chapter 149

After leaving the Lorel mountains and 42’s valley, things had not been easy for Hetcha or Mira. A predictable consequence of trying to establish contact with the scattered La’Darin. They had made camp in the Marowane swamp and were waiting for Felix Swiftpaw to return.

Unlike them, Felix had connections with other groups and traveled both before and after the chaining. He would be able to vouch for the existence of the valley and hopefully sway the more reluctant groups to at least consider visiting.

Or so Hetcha hoped. They'd gotten in contact with a band of Lepusan who were sending a scouting party, but that was all so far. It was a start, but also symptomatic of the lack of a sense of commonality between the groups. The Lupe hadn’t even entertained a visit from them, refusing to have business with a herbivore.

“Hm…” Mira muttered, rousing Hetcha from her thoughts.

“Hey bright eyes,” Hetcha said softly. She pressed a cool cloth to Mira’s forehead. Mira had been using her powers too much and hiding her exhaustion. She’d ended up collapsing without warning and it had only been luck it happened when they had made it back to the camp.

Hetcha had been beside herself with worry, but didn’t chide. She understood why Mira had done it even if she didn’t agree. She’d simply vowed to be more mindful of how often she used her powers and force more frequent rest breaks going forward.

“We’re taking the day off,” Hetcha said flatly.

“Bun, I’m fine,” Mira whined. Hetcha just huffed at that, doubting her lover would be able to get out of bed even if she wanted to. The fact she wasn’t trying just to make a point proof enough she was in no condition to go tramping about the countryside anytime soon.

“You slept for two days,” Hetcah countered. “Besides, we have to wait for Felix and he’ll be there awhile. He was ill when he arrived.”

“Fine, but no talk about me going back to the valley,” Mira grumped. Hetcha nodded, though it wasn’t far from her mind. Things had been harder than she expected when they left.

The fact Mira was still committed to the mission despite everything made Hetcha smile. As a human she could have left at any moment and her abilities as a seer would have had any kingdom with sense welcoming her warmly. Instead, she was slogging right alongside Hetcha through a gods-forsaken swamp.

“I said it once, and I meant for us to go together,” Hetcha said and laughed. It had been at the end of their first month after leaving. 42 had mentioned having added buildings to the valley in anticipation of future occupants. That had piqued Hetcha’s curiosity as well as seemed like a good opportunity to lay low and rest for a bit.

“Ehm…” Mira hummed, seeming half asleep once more. Hetcha wanted to help her people, but she wasn’t delusional enough to think it would simply come together because she wanted it to. It would take time and that meant they could occasionally rest and certainly should. They weren’t going to be fit to help anyone if they ran themselves ragged.

Too far for Mira to hear even awake, Hetcha picked up the sound of a fake goose call. It was coming from the direction of the road.

“I’ll be back soon, love,” Hetcha said softly. She didn’t leave immediately though, lingering and watching her lover's grumpy sleeping face. Like someone in her dreams had stolen the last fruit tart at the tower.

Hetcha was fast once she did leave, taking up a spear and short bow as she went. It wasn’t likely an agent of Stromhold had found them, but it wasn’t wise to assume. Thick vegetation and boggy ground hid their camp from even keen human senses, but they might use tracking dogs.

It wasn’t until Hetcha found a wolf-eared man standing on the road that she relaxed a little. He was entirely shirtless, with only a breechcloth for modesty’s sake. No slave collar in sight.

“I know you're their rabbit. Fang sends word,” the man who’d never given a name growled out. He tossed a letter down on the dirt of the road, then transformed fully into a wolf. A wolf already running back along the road the way it had come.

“Fucker,” Hetcah muttered to herself. As bleak as it was, his behavior was an improvement over the last time she’d seen him. At the time he’d refused to change so they might speak and showed his teeth at her. Something which wasn’t an idle threat from his kind.

After a little time passed and Hetcha was certain the wolf was truly gone, she retrieved the letter.

We don’t believe you, but we'll send scouts.

A single line hastily scrawled on leather. It was more than Hetcha had been hoping for, but that wasn’t much. Her own people were doing much the same, but it was to find out how many of their band the valley could take.

They hadn’t believed Hetcha when she’d said the entire group wouldn’t simply fit, but would be welcomed. They likely wouldn’t have believed her about the temple if she hadn’t produced a small statuette 42 had provided her as well as some prayer medallions. The latter had born Lorel’s likeness on one side and the pomegranate, a symbol of prosperity, on the other.

It was still strange and at times troubling for Hetcha to accept 42’s help. The fact it had been essential not aiding her sense of comfort. As hard as things had been, they would have been worse if they’d had nothing to offer those they encountered other than their word and what sounded like a mad tale of finding a lost temple.

When hope failed they’d appealed to pragmatism, recounting how large the valley was and well guarded. Giving goods to prove the hermit they claimed was their patron was well off enough to actually help them beyond simple shelter. Information Hetcha would have been more cautious about sharing, if not for 42’s true identity.

“We had a guest?” Mira inquired when Hetcha returned.

“The Lupe who looked ready to bite last time. His pack leader is sending scouts,” Hetcha explained before sitting down next to Mira again. The tent was spacious and the bed obscenely comfortable compared to what they’d have been able to carry normally. Access to 42’s item box was horrifyingly useful.

“They're probably going to try and raid the valley,” Mira said with a sigh.

“Ehm, which should be hilarious. Bunch of bastards that they are, it wouldn’t be bad for their pride to suffer a bit,” Hetcha muttered bitterly. The Lupe hadn’t been affected much by the chaining. They had little to do with humans and primarily lived in animal form which made them difficult to track even for dedicated hunters like the seekers.

Hetcha didn’t grudge them that, but she did resent how the Lupe had refused to help other La’Darin escape. They’d retreated deeper into their territories instead. A plan which hadn’t kept them safe for long. Stromhold preferred to lead with chains but they weren’t against slaughter and had begun hunting all wolves to get at the Lupe.

“I hope Felix is alright, I know 42 is generous, but she can also be… a bit much,” Mira said after a few moments.

“Really? The monster who builds temples overnight for fun?” Hetcha asked but ruined her sarcasm with a laugh.

“Don’t forget she also thinks farmers should live in small palaces,” Mira added with a chuckle.

“I know people who’d live in the blasted chicken coop she built and consider themselves well-to-do,” Hetcha agreed. The thing had been ridiculously overbuilt and full of smug fat hens who seemed to know they were living better than some people.

The thought of the temple brought a strange feeling of contentment and longing over Hetcha like always. She’d taken Mira to see it and her lover had marveled at it, but didn’t have the same sense of connection to it. It was just a grand structure to her.

Humans had more gods than there were stars in the sky. To them, it was easy to shift from one to another according to their needs, the season, or just because they wished to. Not that they restricted themselves to those of their own kind. Ula wasn’t human in origin despite being primarily worshiped by them after all.

For Hetcha there had always been a sense something was missing. Her people, the whole of the La’Darin, had barely known any stories of Lorel. It was as if they’d never shared more than a few basic tales amongst each other, let alone built monuments or places of worship. It had always sat strangely with her, it felt unnatural.

Now it was as if a piece of herself had been found. It was possible the others wouldn’t share in her sense of completion, but it likely didn’t matter. The Valley would be a safe haven for them if nothing else.

“I’ll send a message to 42 to warn her about the Lupe,” Hetcha said with a sigh. She didn’t think they’d be able to harm the valley, let alone reach the dungeon, but it wouldn’t be proper not to warn her.

“She’ll have a good laugh about it, I’m sure,” Mira said with a chuckle.

“Also Ban and his group while I’m at it. She’ll probably want a chance to spruce things up before they arrive,” Hetcha added.

“Ehm,” Mira hummed, drifting off again.

“Sleep love. I’ll let you know what she says when you wake,” Hetcha said softly. Mira let out a quiet noise of agreement and was soon asleep again. Hetcha smiled and got to work on her letter.