The Mimic in Monsterland

I walked into the room before the two said anything else. It was a small room, kept lit by a number of candles hanging along the wooden walls, instead of the braziers like the main room of the basement. It had a small desk on one side and a single sleeper bed on the other side. I walked over to the bed and felt the covers. They were amazingly soft. I wondered if Mrs Warbler made them herself. I put the folded clothes on the corner of the bed.

I sat down and started shedding layers of armor and clothes. Everything was fine until it was time for the pants. Those took a minute. It was heavenly after I peeled them off. I reveled in the freedom from tight leather for a moment. I held the stupid things in my hands.

Never again.

I threw them on the ground and went to put on the clothes Mrs. Warbler gave. After laying them out on the bed, I noticed they looked just like the outfit I was eyeing in the store earlier. Did she notice me looking at them?

The pants slid right on, no fighting or pulling this time. They were much comfier than those hot pants were. I looked over my body before putting on the shirt. Bruises littered different parts of my chiseled torso. I realized I haven't changed into log form in a while, that would remove all of them. As I went to stand, my hands rubbed against the bedding.

The softness ingrained itself in my hands. Before another thought played in my mind, I found myself laying on the bed. The temptation proved to be too great. I knew now wasn’t a great time for a nap. Those two were still out there, and I still had questions. And I still wasn’t sure if I should trust them. But the blankets somehow wrapped up around me. My eyes grew heavy.

 

I woke after what felt like moments, but evidence said otherwise. I rose rather groggily. Dried drool stuck to my face. I rubbed it away. I looked around the small room again, nothing changed, the clothes I threw on the ground hadn’t moved. “Hmm.” I wiggled under the blessed sheets.

The allure of the bed’s warmth drove my desire to continue the nap. It almost won out too, that is until a beautiful fragrance danced under my nostrils. The smell of cooked meat wafted around the room. Guided by my nose, I rose from the bed making my way for the door, slipping the white shirt on before opening it.

A fresh wave of the delightful smell hit me in the face. The table had been set, with plates and cutlery. But shockingly, there was no food. Fennel, I think was his name, placed the last pieces before he noticed my entrance.

“Hello. Nice… uh nap?” He said.

“Yeah.” I replied scratching the back of my head. I didn’t really know what to say. What do you say? It's only been like eight months of isolation. We both just sat in the silence.

“Awkward.” Tutor said, chiming in. “Say something already.”

“Umm, oh yeah. So are you a dwarf?”

“Smooth.” Tutor said before Fennel answered.

He straightened his back out and nodded. “Yes, like Ms. Underbrush said earlier. My name is Fennel Blines. I’m a squad captain in Jaren’s legion.” He scratched his forearm. “And yes, I am a dwarf.”

“Sorry, was that a weird thing to ask?”

“Nah it's alright. I’m guessing you never ran into one out there in The Forest. That’s where you're from, right?”

I shrugged. “Yeah I guess you could say that. How much did Len tell you all about me?”

“I can’t speak for Daila or Mrs. Warbler, but I wasn’t told anything. But I’m pretty new to this whole thing. Whatever it is. I have been training under Jaren since I graduated from the Academy #3 last summer. I met Len some moons back.” His face contorted in pain for a moment. Like the memory that just popped up caused some pain or embarrassment. He shook his head and kept speaking.

“Len trained me also. But he never mentioned anything about a Feral he…” He paused for a minute, a look of guilt on his face. “Sorry, you probably don’t like being called that.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t really offend me. I was only really bothered because I didn’t understand what it meant.”

I wanted to say more but I stopped myself. I doubt these Feral’s are all bad, this might just be good ole fashioned medieval-era racism. But with how the world is outside of the city, they might be people driven mad by their genes. Or something else entirely. It’s too early to make a judgment.

Fennel’s guilty face switched to relief. He’s an expressive one.

“Len trained me out in the Forest.” I said, moving the conversation along.

“He taught me a lot about this wor… about Laurelhaven. And a lot about fighting. That is when he wasn’t trying to light me on fire.”

A smile grew on Fennel’s face. “You too huh? He loves pulling that stuff on everybody.”

I told him about how Len threw a fireball right in my lap when we first met.

“That’s nothing. I was on my way to Jaren’s when I met him.” Fennel regaled me with the tale of how Len somehow set up hundreds of candles in a matter of seconds and did some weird occult-like crap to him. I had to laugh at how absurd it sounded. He laughed with me. The atmosphere in the room warmed as the two of us shared different stories of how Len bullied us.

But the smell of the coming food overwhelmed my stomach, proven by the insane growl it made. We both shut up and he looked at me with such shock.

“Was that you?”

“Yep. My gene comes with a vocal belly.” I said with a grin. Fennel looked pensive now. Almost as if he was struggling with whether or not to ask about the giant elephant that had been chilling in the corner of the room this whole time. My powers.

“What gene do you have?” He asked.

I didn’t answer right away. Should I tell him? I mean he seems nice enough. Truthfully, he seems great. Little awkward but there's nothing wrong with that. And he does seem to know Len. I nodded to myself.

“I have the mimic gene.” I said flatly. His head tilted to the side and his ears perked up. “You probably haven’t heard of it. Len hadn’t either.” He looked over for a second, then sat back down in a chair and grabbed his chin. Thinking of what to ask next probably.

“But what about your trope, and those powers, why do they change?” He asked.

I breathed in, getting ready to give an explanation but he looked up, stopping me. “Wait, it's rude of me to ask for your gene without giving mine first. I have the Wulfen gene. My trope is the ears as you probably guessed already. I’m mostly a frontline fighter and my powers center around enhancing my teammates.”

He stopped talking and looked over to me expectantly.

“Thanks? Well, explaining mine is kind of tough.” But before I could go any further, the basement door swung open. We both turned to and saw Daila and Mrs. Warbler holding some big platters of food. My mouth started salivating as soon as I saw it. It looked like slices of steak and some other strange colored vegetables. I didn’t care about those, they weren’t important. Those cuts of steak on the other hand.

They brought the food to the table and set it down. It looked like a feast fit for 10 people. “I hope everyone’s hungry, because I better not see a single plate with food left on it by the end of the night.”

Saliva pooled inside my mouth, the food looked amazing. But I hesitated. Is there a ritual or a prayer they do at meals here? Len never did anything like that but something tells me he isn’t the best example for Kniyan culture.

I waited around watching everybody. Fennel looked just as stoked as I was for the steak. Daila sat down in her seat, followed by Mrs. Warbler, who spoke first.

“Well dig in already.”

Fennel grabbed two of the steaks. Mrs. Warbler coughed and he unwillingly put some of the vegetables on the plate as well. Daila portioned her food out quite evenly, equal parts meat and vegetables.

I followed Fennel’s lead and grabbed two steaks as well, not forgetting to get some veggies.

The food was even more delicious than it smelled, the steak was seasoned just perfectly and not cooked a second too long. The meat actually tasted pretty familiar, like I’d eaten it before. I was leaning toward the magical moose, but it could have been the toxic boar’s as well. The veggies were good, but at the end of the day, they were still just vegetables and my new mimic stomach just wasn’t a fan. It’s as picky as a kid.

I was trying my hardest to fight against the urge to throw the food down my gullet like the mimic inside wanted me too. But I kept thinking about how my gran would have given me hell. Doing something so outrageous when someone served me food like this. I looked up from the now empty plate of food. Mrs. Warbler noticed it too and pushed the platter of steaks my way.

“Go on. Lenny told me about your eating habits, have at it, no one will judge.”

At her words, the dam broke, and I shoveled three more steaks down. Manners be damned.

I looked at the platter. There, a lone slab of meat stood. My fork moved to impale it, but I found resistance this time. Another fork had been lodged in the succulent morsel. I glared across the table and saw that Fennel was also reaching for the food.

A mischievous grin grew on his face, he pulled the meat his way. Normally I never fought over the last piece of food. Many times have I given the last slice of pizza to those who already had their fair share. But this was different. With that devilish grin I knew the gauntlet had been thrown down. This is now a duel. One I shan't be losing. Both of our forks dug deeper into the prize. The contest had begun.

We each pulled on our respective side of the meat. For a while it hadn’t budged. Staying directly between the two of us. But the proverbial wind shifted. The meat inched ever closer to my plate.

Yes. YES! But the doggy dwarf only snickered. “Not this time.” He doubled his effort. The scrumptious morsel began leaving me. I fought on, every ounce of muscle in my arm screamed at me to let go. But my will was stronger than that. I pulled even more. The meat returned to its starting place. Neither of us gave any ground. I’m pretty sure I heard something pop in my shoulder but I wasn’t going to let that slow me down. We both breathed in deep, readying ourselves for the final showdown.

Until a knife came down. I rocketed backwards, flying out of the chair and hitting the ground pretty hard. I heard a groan coming from the other side of the table. Fennel must be hurting too. But what happened?

I slowly pulled myself from the ground. Daila sat with a portion of the steak on a knife. She ate it posthaste, not even bothering to look at me or Fennel. I looked at the fork in my hand, it had barely a bite of the steak on it. Fennel was in the same shape as me. A meager sliver on his utensil.

Before anyone said anything else. Mrs. Warbler started trembling in her seat. Oh god, that was so childish. She's probably pissed. But before I could apologize, she burst out in laughter. “The look… on y’alls…. faces.” Her words came out between breaths. I looked at the meat again, and couldn’t help but laugh as well. Fennel joined in with us. Daila didn’t laugh but I was sure I saw a smile crack on her face for a moment.

Dinner ended soon after the scuffle. I tried to help clean up and bring the dishes up to the store, but was shut down quickly. Daila said it was best If I stay down here for now.

Daila and Fennel left, leaving me and Mrs. Warbler alone in the basement.

“Thank you for the meal. It was wonderful. And sorry about getting so rowdy there at the end.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry about it. It was wonderful to share a meal with others like that. I haven’t since…” Her smile grew dark for a moment before she turned to me.

“Never mind, it's already dark out, time for bed. Oh and the basement door will be locked. Knock if you need anything. I will come and wake you in the morning.”

We separated and I went into my little room. I laid down on the bed.

“It doesn’t feel real.”

“What?” Said my mental companion.

“That meal, I haven’t eaten with others like that in a long time. I feel like I’m gonna wake up back in that cave.”

“Enjoy it for now. I doubt it's gonna stay like this for long.” She said.

“Well that’s not ominous.”