Chapter 26: Mutated Turkey

His eyes cracked open.

Mellow green light from a star-filled sky filtered through a canopy of trees. It danced with the warm red glow of embers on Dimitry’s face. They popped from the fireside. The savory scent of chicken wafted through the air, filling his mouth with saliva and serving as a reminder that life went on.

A tiny weight shifted on his forehead. Golden eyes peered into his. “Dumitry!”

He smiled at the sight of a faerie whose golden ponytail tickled his nose. “I see the Church hasn’t squashed you yet.”

“If you don’t hurry and get up, they will.”

Dimitry rolled forward. He attempted to push off the ground, but an intense soreness permeated his arms, eliciting a pained grimace from his face. A glance at his right palm revealed bulging purple vessels and the imprint of a blue knight on the wrist. That really happened. Again. But what did any of it mean?

Who were Dimitry's opponents?

Why did he have a patron?

What did the tracheostomy patient mean by 'aberrant route'?

Despite the ‘dream’, did Dimitry lay on a forest floor the entire time?

Steadfast footsteps approached, and the answerless questions swarming his mind receeded.

Saphiria pointed to his arms. “Don’t push yourself, your circuits are overloaded. Any worse, and you'll need a thaumaturge to treat them.”

So that was what those purple vessels were called—circuits. “And how long until they heal?”

“That depends.” Her slender lips curved into a hesitant smile. “Do you have any more bridges on your hit list? I’ve made food if you’re hungry.”

Saphiria’s joke surprised Dimitry. Not only was it unexpected, but it also coaxed beauty from her historically stony face. The collar stole more than just her freedom. “I could do with something to eat.”

“Yeah, me too!” Precious said.

“Don’t you have leaves to munch on?” Dimitry mused as he stood.

“That’s the thanks I get for watching over you?”

“I’m sure you nagged all manner of vicious predators into submission.”

The faerie landed on his shoulder, her wings jingling like tiny wind chimes. “Don’t forget, you still owe me a gift.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” He placed his hands by the fire to ward off nighttime frost. “You’ll remind me every chance you get.”

Dimitry glanced at a wide strip of bark carrying a roasted avian. Two of four wings were already missing from a shredded abdomen.

Escaping with Saphiria was the right choice. Her ability to forage and improvise in the wilds exceeded his own in every way. The only supplies they had were the clothes on their backs and the stuffed leather bag Dimitry accrued during his time at the brothel.

The contents wouldn’t last long.

Saphiria gently stroked the neck of a black horse. “Aerfowl was the best I could prepare given the circumstances.”

Dimitry noticed he watched the roasted avian carcass with glazed eyes for far too long. “It’s not that. It looks delicious. I was just thinking about what to do next. If we stay in the forest, our supplies will run out soon.”

“The Church is probably searching for us, too.”

“Makes sense considering what we did.”

The girl paused. “We should head to Vael to resupply.”

“That town?” He reached for a wing, whose charcoaled skin crumbled under the weight of his fingers. “Don’t they have a church there? I remember seeing one during our deliveries.”

Saphiria pulled the gray-glowing scarf out from beneath her cloak. “As long as I keep this hidden, a church that small won’t be a problem. I’ll enter Vael alone to avoid detection. Zeran patrols from Ravenfall are the real threat. They know what we look like.”

“What’s the best way to avoid them?”

“I suggest we stay off the main road and step further into the forest whenever anyone comes near. Few will be able to follow us. I’ll handle anyone that does.”

Having someone cautious and capable to bounce ideas off of eased the tension in Dimitry’s shoulders. He bit into poultry that had a crunchy surface but tender meat. Impressive what one could do with just a campfire. Back at the church, he thought Saphiria would stab him to death. Instead, she killed Delphine and was thoughtful enough to prepare a meal for him afterward.

“Hey, Saphiria.”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering,” he said between bites, “what were you thinking when I wrapped that scarf around your neck?”

She sat beside him. “I wanted to kill you.”

“Kill me?”

“But more than that, I was shocked that someone would assault a bishop. Before I had the chance to act, the collar lost its influence on me.”

“At least something worked out.”

Saphiria’s eyebrows furrowed, and her indigo irises stared at the side of his face. “That being said, what you did was dangerous, and I can’t help but wonder why you risked your life to help me.”

Dimitry considered lying to her, but there was no point—a perceptive girl like her would see right through him. Having a loud-mouthed faerie nearby didn’t increase his odds.

He dropped the aerfowl’s bones and buried them into the dirt with his boot’s heel. “I’d like to say it’s because I’m a good person, but the truth is that I need your help. As you can probably tell, I’m not much of a fighter or a survivalist.”

“Especially with your hands in that pitiful state,” Precious chimed in.

Saphiria spent a moment in silence. “So you wanted to use me?”

“I prefer to think of it as a trade. If you guide me to somewhere far away from Ravenfall, I promise to never bother you again.”

“I can kill you, steal your supplies, and escape at any moment. You have no reason to trust me.”

“That’s a calculated gamble on my part.” Dimitry wiped grease from his hands with a moistened rag. “But I have two things working in my favor.”

“Two?”

“The first is the fact you risked punishment to reveal Delphine’s plans of enslavement to me.”

“And the other?”

Dimitry smirked. “No one who’s as compassionate towards animals as you would hurt someone unless they had to. Well, that’s what I think, anyway.”

She looked down and away as if in deep contemplation.

He repacked his bag and strapped it over his shoulder.

“There’s a third,” Saphiria said.

“Oh?”

She stood and smiled. “You never finished telling me about your gemstone collection, and I want to tell you about the waterwheel-powered blast furnace bellows back home.”

A chuckle escaped Dimitry. “I’d love to hear all about it. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to talk.”

They left their camping spot and journeyed along the forested side of a meandering dirt road like Saphiria suggested they should. Although trudging through dense greenery slowed travel, trees and bushes provided cover from Church patrols. They weren’t uncommon. Dimitry occasionally saw them while delivering butchered corpses for Delphine. In groups of four, two armored male equestrians rode ahead of two robed women, eyes scouring every direction.

Tonight, however, the patrols were more frequent. Saphiria was right to err on the side of caution. Fortunately, not having to haul around a cart full of cadavers hastened their pace.

Julia carried them half of the time. According to Precious, upholding two passengers at once for extended periods irritated the black horse, so they alternated between riding and walking instead. By the next day’s afternoon, they reached Vael’s new bridge.

The structure, composed of rough hemp ropes and crude log beams, traversed a shallow ravine. It swung side to side and bobbed up and down with the slightest movement. Such a shoddy bridge made one feel as though any step could be their last. After coaxing a mortified Julia across, the group stood on the town’s outskirts, far from wandering eyes.

“Food, water, warm socks, and gloves,” Saphiria said. “Will we need anything else from the market?”

“Fent!” Precious shouted.

“Fent?”

Dimitry shook his head. “It’s kind of her thing—just one will last her an eternity. I know it’s a bother, but do you mind?”

With a contemplative frown, Saphiria examined the faerie. “Why? Will it brew ale for us?”

“Do I look like a brewer to you? I just rescued you from being some lady’s pet. Show some respect, hussy.”

Stroking his chin, Dimitry now understood why the inns and markets of Ravenfall stocked a melon that tasted like crap: it was an intermediary ingredient in producing alcoholic beverages. He wondered how much concentrated ethanol a single fruit could create. The knowledge might help when he established a clinic… eventually.

“The more fent we feed Precious,” he said, “the less she’ll talk. Isn’t that best for everyone involved?”

A feeble pinch massaged his earlobe.

Saphiria smiled. “In that case, I’ll make sure to buy lots.”

Dimitry couldn’t suppress his laughter.

“Fine. Next time you two are on the verge of lifelong slavery, don’t count on my help. I’ll sit there and laugh—just like this: Hahahaha!”

Disregarding Precious’ adorable threat, Saphiria glanced at the empty sheath strapped to her pants. “I need a new dagger. I left mine in Ravenfall.”

“Correction, you left it inside a lady’s throat.”

“I’m going.” After shooting a lethal glare at the faerie, Saphiria walked away. She stopped to pat the sides of her cloak as if looking for her car keys and twitched back. Her red face said it all.

Dimitry held out a small pouch that jingled with over a dozen coins. “Would one gold be enough?”

“I think so. Sorry.”

He pressed a gold gadot into Saphiria’s palm and smiled. “It’s not like I gave you time to prepare before the incident at the church. I saw your skill with daggers, so don’t be afraid to spend as much as you think you need.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way,” Dimitry said, “you mentioned a temporary shelter on the way here. Normally I wouldn’t mind waiting here for you, but someone might see me loitering so close to town.”

She pointed alongside the river. “Follow the trail, then head right at the second crossroads. There’s a barn in an abandoned village not far away. You’ll be out of sight of patrols.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t forget to feed Julia. Anywhere with grass will do.”

“I won’t. She deserves something for her trouble.”

Saphiria nodded and left for the market square.

“Hey.” Precious tugged on his tunic. “What if she ran away with the money?”

Dimitry stepped around a ditch containing a dark, rancid mixture. He wanted to trust Saphiria, but this cutthroat world necessitated constant caution. “That’s why I keep you around. What’s your professional opinion?”

“Hmm… aside from shame and fear and disdain for me, I don’t sense much else.”

All sensible emotions.

“Come on, Julia.” Dimitry tugged the black horse’s reins. The gentle giant exhaled, and her warm breath penetrated his cloak to tickle his neck.

The path they followed ran parallel to the river before swerving into a tiny village whose walls comprised shattered palisades. They barricaded four dilapidated cottages, a chicken coop with a collapsed roof, and a tall barn. A baby basket rotting in dirt hinted that the residents hurriedly fled a decade ago. Or perhaps they never left at all.

“Sense anyone?” Dimitry asked.

“Not really.”

“What do you mean, ‘not really’? Either you sense someone or you don’t.”

“Oh, Dumitry. When will you ever learn?” Precious pointed to the barn. “There’s a large animal there.”

“Large like a bear?”

“What’s a bear?”

“Nothing important, apparently.” Wondering what other Earth species didn’t exist on this planet, Dimitry creaked open the barn’s double doors.

Inside, a trough overflowing with brown water from past rainfall bathed a pig. Its alarmed eyes shot up.

“Will that be a problem?” Dimitry asked.

Sitting on his shoulder, Precious shrugged. “I’m only getting a little bit of nervousness. Nothing much in the way of anger. Usually, a wild animal would charge or run away, so I’m gonna guess it escaped from some peasant’s farm.”

Julia’s head peeked past Dimitry to gently snort at their surprise roommate.

The pig grunted back and continued to dig through moist refuse.

Did Dimitry just witness one of nature’s miracles? Exhaustion from a day’s hike through bumpy wilderness hills left him too tired to care. He released Julia’s reins at last and pointed to a massive patch of overgrown grass in the village’s center. “Hungry?”

The horse nudged his shoulder as she pranced forth, but Julia was in no rush to eat. Instead, she rolled in greenery and fell unconscious beside a mossy pole. It seemed even animals needed breaks from uneven forest floors.

Dimitry stretched his palm to ease the discomfort of gripping thick rope in his uninjured hand for hours. Strolling into the barn, the stench of moist and decaying wood assaulted his nostrils, but the smell of dissected corpses pooling in coagulated blood desensitized him to disgust. Mold wasn’t a threat, either. Frigid weather deactivated spores, and mycotoxicosis typically affected people who ate mold rather than inhaled it. Short-term exposure was harmless. If anything, the largely intact walls the fungi colonized on offered a reprieve from icy winds.

Rather than his own safety, he considered Saphiria’s. The Church hunted her while she shopped for and carried supplies across unforgiving lands. What if she got caught? Would they kill her? When Dimitry offered to take the risk in her place, she declined, citing her knowledge of the land and lack of pale green eyes as an advantage. He should have insisted.

“What’s got you so worried?” Precious asked.

“Think Saphiria will be okay?”

"I'm sure she'll be fine." She drifted onto the lid of a dented barrel and sat, slowly kicking its walls with tiny legs. “But you won’t because you don’t have fent to shut me up, right?”

Dimitry sighed. “You’re still ruminating on that? You know I didn’t mean it.”

“You did a little.”

“Maybe a little, but it was just a joke.”

Precious fell silent, such that the weak chiming of her green wings could be heard. She watched the floor with downcast eyes. “Dimitry.”

“Yeah?”

“I know I say dumb things sometimes, and even though I’m trying really really hard, I can’t always stop myself.”

To hear an apology from her came as a shock. He watched on with concerned eyes.

“Please don’t take it personally," she said. "I… I don’t want you to abandon me too.”

Unsure of how to respond, Dimitry paused. Although the faerie did indeed have a crude tongue, she kept silent on Dimitry’s request. And, instead of ditching him during their escape from Ravenfall, Precious risked her life to free Saphiria in return for a meager gift.

Good character showed through action, not words.

As someone who went from being a moron who considered terrorizing city streets a good time to a repentant medical student, he knew well the difficulty of personal transformation.

“As long as you really are trying,” Dimitry said, “I’ll have no reason to cast you aside. Keep working on yourself.” He flashed a comforting smile. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing we can do.”