“Did you know that when they’re fully grown they’ll basically eat anything? Voles, woodchucks, ducks…” She trailed off, hands over her mouth as she read. “And even rabbits. That’s horrible!”
I shrugged. “They’re opportunistic feeders. It’s in their nature.”
“But… bunnies, Corey. Bunnies!”
I fought not to laugh at the sprite’s indignation. “Most of the creatures we’ve Insighted—Insought?—have been carnivores, including those grass-cats you found so ‘adorable.’ Hells, the gnomes hunt and eat meat every day. So why does this offend you so much?”
“I just can’t believe they’re such brutes. I’d have hoped for better, you know?”
She was acting as though the entire owl species had personally betrayed her.
“They’re birds of prey, Sparky. What did you expect?”
“Don’t start calling me that again. And I don’t know. They’re so… cute? Look at that one. It looks like it should be running a museum or something.”
It was true. The one she was gesturing toward had developed coloring that made the downy feathers on its chest look like a smart checkerboard jumper. A rumpled leaf hung from the bottom of its beak in an uncanny replica of a bow tie. Eyes closed, it was hooting softly to the owl beside it, seemingly not noticing that its companion was gradually edging further away along the wagon while rotating its head in all directions, as though mightily bored of the checkerboard-owl’s blathering and seeking an excuse to politely leave.
Nearby, in preparation for their imminent epic scavenging mission, Swift and Cheer were sorting through the myriad contents of their packs. Cross-legged, they were surrounded by small mountains of what they likely thought of as treasure, but any sane person would describe as “crap.”
I’d glimpsed them tinkering with some of it throughout the journey, but had been too distracted by other things (like gnome-eating snakes) to pay them much attention beyond ensuring they weren’t extorting other members of the tribe again. Now, though, I got to see it all.
They’d been ‘borrowing’ bits of the materials used by the clothiers, and though they already had their own set of snakeskin leggings and boots, they’d also used hardened skin to make bracers, which they fixed upon their wrists now. Brightly-colored frogs’ legs and berry-painted bones, they hung in their hair and from their belts, so that they looked more like primitive shamans than scavengers.
By far the most disturbing of their belongings were the remains of the tiger owl. I vaguely recalled them dragging its body away after Hoppit shot it from the sky. The phrase ‘waste not want not’ was apparently a scavenger’s maxim, and they’d utilized every part of the dead bird. I had to admire their imagination. In addition to feathered cloaks and matching shoulder pauldrons, they’d also crafted wicked-looking daggers from the owl’s talons, as well as flutes and what looked like wind chimes from its hollow bones. They’d also used the curved beak to craft what looked like some kind of plague-doctor’s mask.
The mask went back in their bag, as did the musical bones, but everything else they donned or otherwise equipped, Cheer adding the brace of talon-daggers to her already-bristling bandolier and tucking others into her boots and belt.
”I’m not even surprised anymore,” said Ket. “I’m barely even appalled. No, wait—yes I am.”
“Well, I for one look forward to the superb owl party they’re clearly planning on throwing.”
She watched the scavengers with distaste. I decided to try and change the subject. “Hey, since our hoot-hoots have been hanging around with the acolytes so much, d’you think that makes them birds of pray?”
It worked; Ket suddenly no longer wanted to talk about owls.
In all seriousness, the birds offered tremendous possibilities once I regained access to my Creation menu. They were natural predators, and their power of flight made them extra versatile—potentially perfect for guarding my future Sphere of Influence. Wings weren’t necessarily a boon in cramped tunnels and other underground places—hence I’d yet to make any flying god-born, despite having the blueprints for creatures like moths and bats—but perhaps our new home would have more expansive tunnels than our previous territory. I hoped so; as much as I’d grown to love the Grotto and its environs, my denizens deserved something grander.
Not that it takes much to impress them, I thought, glancing down at the latest kerfuffle on the bank.
For reasons unfathomable to me, Gnils the acolyte—apparently bored of playing with frogs—had placed one of the hoot-hoots on Binky’s head and was now calling the others over to look at it. The owl seemed to be enjoying the experience; it kept glancing over at its siblings on the wagons and then lifting its head smugly, clearly experiencing delusions of grandeur at being singled out in such a way. Binky on the other hand just looked confused. He glanced from side to side as though seeking an escape route through the gathering gnomes, all of whom were laughing delightedly at the unlikely duo.
I was struck by a sudden image of the two creatures as a god-born hybrid. A tarantula with the head of an owl… Even I shuddered in horror at the thought. It would be unnatural. Maybe if I put eight eyes on the owl part instead of just two…
I shook off the fantasy. I could spiderize as many animals as I wanted just as soon as I had my mana back. Enough daydreaming. We’ve got work to do.
Forty-Nine
Bear Necessities
Corey
After three days of searching, I was starting to feel overwhelmed by a sort of manic urgency.
My instructions had been simple: look for cave entrances, sinkholes, animal burrows—anything that might indicate a likely cave system.
Less than two days remained on the Exodus timer, and I was forced to seriously consider the possibility we’d have to establish our new base right here by the river. To be fair, it wasn’t a terrible location; we had a plentiful supply of fresh water and fish, and the gnomes’ advanced huts kept them sheltered from the nippy autumn nights. But it was hardly what you’d
