A Pleasant Stroll

The midday sun fails to drive out the omnipresent autumn chill. The chill, in turn, fails to deter me from going on a stroll with a strange man I just met. There is little justice in me calling him strange though. When I try to move with only two legs, as the average human would, I feel wobbly and imbalanced. I extend a series of four to eight tentacular limbs beneath me to keep the walk across the leaf-ridden ground from turning into a crawl.

The aged man has not said anything since he accepted my company. He also refrains from letting his attention wander away from me. I feel only a little sad. I have no plans to hurt him, but his choices are quite reasonable. Still, something bothers me, so I break the figurative ice to set the record straight.

“Say, friend,” I say, not knowing his name. “You said my voice was a little hoarse. What does it sound like to you?” To me, my voice sounds a little wobbly and deep. It may not be the most melodious, but I certainly would not describe it with smoker’s lung.

My critic gives me a stare before answering. “You sound like a grinding stone. Does that sound about right?”

Yikes, I had no idea. “Good to know, thanks.”

As we continue on our way, this guy keeps giving me glances. He looks a little uncomfortable. “So, I imagine you’re new around here.” He explains “I haven’t heard much about talking space blobs. What are you getting up to? I can help you out, if you need anything.”

Ah, yes, a question. Well, I don’t know the answer, so I’ll have to respond with another question. “Yes, I am new around here. I haven’t really done a lot of social interaction in my life, and I’m not sure what the surrounding area is like. Is there anything I should know?”

He adjusts the hold on his bag as we continue the walk. He answers my question with a kind of meandering lecture and a smirk. “Well you see, we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. I guess it’s easy to get to wherever you want. Berkolsen is the nearest town. Most people live there for the lumber camps, but occasionally you’ll get some high-class fucko who builds a summer home here to make it an easier stop for merchants. You see, we’re on the road between Levantine’s Pythopolis and the land of the Amazons. Some people want there to be more interaction between the kindoms, so people do their best to make towns like Berkolsen hospitable.

“Odds are, anyone you meet here is a human. Otherwise, they are both rich and an elf. Generally speaking, of course, I know of some poor elves and rich humans. Of course, you probably won’t be super political if you look like that all the time.”

“You keep mentioning how I look.” I interrupt his rambling to ask a question. “I don’t look that weird, do I? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I just look like a normal slime, right?”

“Not really, no.” His response was immediate, but he seemed to need a moment to explain further. He seems oddly comfortable with this conversation. He feels at least more comfortable than me. I never enjoyed meeting new people, and the suspense of how this could pan out is making my heart beat in my chest with a rapid drumbeat.

Wait a minute, I don’t have a heart. What is making that drumming sound? “Do you hear that?” I ask. I could hear a distant drumming. It came up from the ground until I heard it somewhere in the middle of my chest. It’s a lot more complicated than normal human ears, and it really throws me off.

“Huh, hear what?” He stops walking to listen. “Do you hear someone coming? We are close to the road. You probably don’t want to be seen. Mind if I go ahead before you walk out and meet some new people?”

“Yeah,” I say. I assume a more globular form as I step back further. “Yeah, you take this. I’ll just be back here. You won’t hear a peep out of me.” I catch my guide watching my retreat, laughing to himself before he turns back to the road.

I notice the moment this guy hears what I now identify as horse hoofbeats. He turns his head in their direction and steps out into the path. Crossing the ramshackle road, he waves his floppy sunhat to the riders and moves on his way. I content myself with staying in the treeline until they have passed.

It turns out my vision does not extend very far. I feel the five trotting horses come close a few seconds before I see them. I only see three of the five riders for a moment. Three men ride ahead looking well dressed. Two more stay behind, a man and a woman. The man is dressed for summer, and the tall woman has braided hair.

“Hello, sir?” The man calls out. “Hello, I’m Marcol. Tell me, do you know a mister Fiefel that lives around here?” Marcol tries to wave down the man who has already walked several yards into the forest. Still, he turns around to answer the rider’s question. I’m still a good ways away, so I’m surprised I hear the response so clearly.

“It’s nice to meet you Marcol, I’m Geiger.” Oh shoot, have I been forgetting to ask his name this whole time? “I do happen to know Sir Fiefel by reputation, though I’ve never met him. That company is a little too high-brow for me.” He acts unconcerned, as if this is just a friendly chat. I suppose it is, but I’m still impressed he’s not on edge.

“Well, that’s all right. I’m hoping to talk with someone who goes for walks.” Marcol continues his little interrogation. “Do you often walk around here by yourself? Do you think it’s safe?”

Geiger pauses for a moment, as if confused by the question. “Well, yes. I mean, it is if you’re not worried about poisonous bites, and even those can be pretty mild. I haven’t come across anything worse than a slime in recent memory. Did something happen? I suppose I should add,” he rambles. “This is about as forested as you can get while still being close to town. It’s still dangerous if you don’t know some basic camping skills, but nothing is out to get you.”

Morcol seems to consider his words for a moment, then answers the question he nestled into his explanation. “Thank you, Geiger sir. We were just going to visit Fiefel and were wondering if he might need any help. It’s always good to know the terrain when you travel around. Anyway, thank you for your help sir, and safe travels.”

“Safe travels to you too!” Geiger calls out as the pair rides away. Morcol and his lady friend give a wave back, and are soon out of sight. Geiger, for his part, continues on his way through the forest. After I feel no one is going to see me, I follow after him.