Day Seven: The Ghost Lady (2)
I kept a wary eye on my surroundings as I made my way back to the tree where I'd rested a while the night before, and that was when Telescopic Vision caught something. What was furiously tearing into the earth at the base of the tree — the very spot where I'd buried the remains of a giant field-rat aberrant — was another giant field rat, the same kind. Right over the place I'd buried the guts and skull of the one I'd killed overnight, a creature a little smaller than the rat I'd eaten the night before was ripping up the dirt with both forepaws, soil flying.
Its Phase Power was 17. A male.
From 280 meters off, I watched the male giant field rat claw at the ground in a mad frenzy, rage in every scrape of its paws. Then I closed my hand carefully around the claw spear and settled in to fight.
At the sight of me, Miss Flandre's brows lifted a fraction and her eyes went round with surprise. I grinned at that cute face, and only then did she catch on that an enemy had appeared. Worry crossed her expression as she started scanning the area.
"It's all right. It's a giant field rat. Looks like the husband of the female I caught yesterday."
The ghost lady's eyes went even rounder. She flattened her right hand, held it over her brow, and searched for the thing without a shred of subtlety. She'll have a hard time finding it. Trees in the way — look straight through and you won't see a thing.
Its Phase Power was lower than the female's, and it was smaller, too, but an aberrant was still an aberrant. The tension that had loosened once I had someone to talk to drew tight again, and I started forward at a careful pace. The female I'd taken yesterday had been easy prey, plain and simple. One harpoon thrown from up in a tree, and that was the end of her.
Hmm. Once I brought this one down, I ought to make a few more harpoons. And come to think of it, with Analysis, an atlatl wouldn't be hard to build either.
An atlatl was a throwing aid — easy enough to use after a little practice, and not difficult to make. The shapes varied, but the idea was always the same: throw harder, and throw farther. What I had in mind wasn't a plain rod, the sort of thing shaped like a long pipe. It was a rectangular length of wood with a long groove carved down it and a notch at the end to seat the spear. Fit the butt of a throwing spear into that notch, grip the lower end, and hurl it with a driving push, everything you have behind it. The force concentrates better than a bare-handed throw, and you end up with a far nastier piercing weapon.
I'd heard that if a human arm could just barely stick a spear in a wooden board at 30 meters, an atlatl could send it three to six times that far — and at the same distance, using one or not was the difference between night and day. They'd said that skill with an atlatl alone could sharply raise your odds of surviving in this world, so its usefulness went without saying. The catch was supply, how easily you could keep wooden spears coming. In the Phase World, where you couldn't lay hands on a single tool, there were times it might not do you any good at all. Here, though, trees were everywhere, and Analysis made wooden spears easy. The thing ought to hit with tremendous force.
And it only occurs to me now. I really am...
Turning the idea over as I crept toward the giant field rat like an assassin, I closed to 100 meters without the aberrant ever noticing me. A wind in my face would have been better, but a dead calm like this wasn't bad either. The trouble was the ground, littered with small fallen twigs and leaves dried to a crisp. Finding a place to set my foot that wouldn't make a sound was hard going.
I adjusted my line so there was always at least one tree between me and the rat, breath held, and carefully closed that 100 meters. Then I slipped behind a trunk, let out a short breath, and drew another in. I was sweating buckets. The smell coming off me had to be incredible, and blood spatter from killing the female was still on me besides. I hadn't wanted to look pathetic in front of Miss Flandre, so I'd skipped rolling in muddy water — and I was regretting it now.
I wasn't the sort to care about appearances. And yet the comfortable assumption that I surely wouldn't run into an aberrant in the meantime had turned out to be dead wrong. The more I thought about it, the more it grated. Awful thing to think about her, but what use was the affection of someone already dead? If her favor rose I might get all sorts of help out of it, true — but honestly, whatever a woman in spirit form could offer me probably wouldn't help at all, not with my abilities. Scouting, at best, and my Search outclassed that anyway. She'd lived here alone for over sixty years, so she had a home-field advantage when it came to the lay of the land. Set that aside, and it was fair to say she had nothing else going for her.
Oblivious to all of that, she followed along behind me until she spotted the giant field rat digging way up ahead. Both hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. But she was cute, so all was forgiven. A beautiful woman gets away with anything she does! Barring mistakes that can get you killed!
I'd dug that hole down to 70 centimeters, and in the time it took me to close to 100 meters, the male had already torn through nearly half of it. I crept in again, and the moment the giant field rat entered Detection range, I shut my eyes and started tracking its movements in real time. Not repeating last night's ridiculous mistake. I kept Detection focused only below its neck and edged closer, freezing whenever its ears twitched and its head lifted a fraction, not even letting a breath out.
Moving like that, it took a full fifteen minutes just to cut the distance to 30 meters. Cold sweat began to trickle down the nape of my neck. The smell was going to spread.
I dropped into a combat stance, steadied my breathing, and started forward again. Even at 10 meters, it still hadn't noticed me.
Ah. The blood.
The deeper it dug into that hole, the thicker the smell of blood would get. Its nose must have been overwhelmed, blind to my scent. A little closer and I'd be inside its Phase Power detection range. I let a stale breath out, drew a quiet one in, put strength through my whole body, and ran.
Squeak?!
Only then did it seem to spot me. It stopped digging and turned this way.
Skreeeeeeee!!
The giant field rat reared onto its hind legs and screamed fit to split the air. I didn't need Clairvoyance on its brain to feel the rage in that cry. The distance kept collapsing, and when it closed to 5 meters I saw the muscles in its hind legs coil and clamp down with everything they had. Not a charge. If both legs compressed at once — a leaping attack.
The instant I judged it was coming, Analysis kicked to full power, and the enraged male's leaping line drew itself in front of me like a hologram. I could see it clear as day: jaws gaping, both forepaws shooting out to seize me, those teeth driving down to crush my skull. Search laid out every angle and motion of the incoming attack in my head, but I couldn't match that speed. The odds of failing to dodge the leap were over eighty percent.
Then I stab it.
The moment it launched, I shot my right foot back to brace so I wouldn't be driven off my feet, then stamped my left down hard. The impact climbed my calf, my thigh, my waist, and slammed into my chest — and in that instant I twisted my upper body and drove the claw spear forward with everything I had. The point was sucked into the male's gaping snout. It split the throat, split the heart, punched through the guts, and the tip of the claw spear jutted out through its anus.
A perfect blow, so clean it startled even me. I killed the male giant field rat in a single thrust, yanked the claw spear back, and recovered it.
"Huff! Huff!"
The male didn't even manage a death cry. It died on the spot and hit the dirt. Thinking there might be others nearby, I swept the area with Telescopic Vision, but no other aberrants were in sight. I heaved for breath, let out a long sigh, and looked down at the carcass.
I killed this in one strike?
Blood dribbled from its snout and its asshole. I was looking down at the corpse, a little moved by my own growth, when Franc came up in front of me, eyes sparkling, and started enthusiastically miming applause.
"Pfft. Wh-what is it?"
Guh... reh... ay... t? Great? From the shape of her mouth, it looked like she was saying great.
"You're saying that was amazing?"
She nodded, then hopped around me, throwing a silent cheer. Ahem. All I'd done was stab a Lowest-Rank Variant to death, and the reaction was so fierce it was a little embarrassing. But every hop set that chest bouncing, and it calmed me down and worked me up all at once. I wanted to stare a hole straight through her. Instead I forced a shrug and played it off.
"It's just a giant field rat."
I said it shyly, scratching my cheek, and she shook her head as if to say absolutely not. Face flushed with excitement, she drew both hands up in front of her chest, clenched them into fists, and mouthed something with those small lips. Then, right in front of me, she slowly reproduced the exact stance I'd taken, body angled on the diagonal.
A naked woman — ghost or not — holding a stance like that set her breasts swaying, and with her legs spread the petals between them were plain to see. It was... a great deal. My face heated fast, but I couldn't look away. Was I red as an apple right now?
I was staring blankly at the ghost lady when, after showing me the same pose twice, she turned back toward me, blinked, and looked down at herself. Then she covered her chest and what lay below and spun away, looking mortified.
What a sight...!
The wooden spear I'd left behind was a wreck, split and shattered, as if the male had gnawed it to pieces. The tip had already been crushed from piercing the female's neck and splitting bone, but a little trimming and I could have used it again. A shame. Miss Flandre crouched with a regretful look, examining what was left of it. She was a ghost and couldn't even touch the thing, and the way she poked at it anyway was unbearably cute.
"It's fine. That was the first one I made, so it was shoddy to begin with. Give me a decent log and I can make another in an hour."
Hearing that, the ghost lady's eyes went round again, and her mouth moved. Craftsman? Is she asking if I make things?
Wait. Does craftsman even mean that?
"Are you asking if I'm a weaponsmith?"
She shook her head once, then nodded. It seemed she was asking if I was a journeyman. A journeyman? Didn't you usually have to be a bit older before you worked as a proper craftsman? Was England different? And then, all at once, I felt wretched. How old did I look, for her to take me for a journeyman? I was in no state to be recognized, sure, but I was still wearing a school uniform.
I stole a glance at the ghost lady's pure, innocent face, and a mischievous urge rose in me. I wanted to tease her.
"Miss Flandre. Do I look that old to you? I'm still just a high school student..."
I put on a glum face on purpose and stared at the ground. She shot upright in a fluster, frantically shaking her head and both hands.
Ngh. T-too cute...
She was cute enough to make my heart ache. I clutched my chest and frowned, and she seemed to think I'd been wounded. Eyes welling, the ghost lady came right up close and pursed her lips — and for a second I thought she was about to kiss me. My heart dropped straight through the floor. A moment later I realized she was mouthing no. I hid how embarrassed the misunderstanding had left me, grinned, and said it.
"I'm joking."
She just stared at me, dazed.
Giggling under my breath, I used a horn awl to sever the male's neck, cut off its limbs and tail, split the belly, scraped out the mangled guts, and dumped them into the hole the rat had dug. I'd trim the rest and take it with me. Meat for lunch, too. Looking at it now, the thing had dug its own grave.
I'd been butchering it for a while when the ghost lady seemed to realize, belatedly, that she'd been teased. She puffed both cheeks full of air, and when a snort escaped me at how cute it was, she folded her arms and turned her head away as if she were sulking. Pouting, was she? Heh heh.
...But her chest was so big she wasn't folding her arms over it. She was crossing them underneath and hoisting the whole thing up.
I covered the leftover remains with dirt, filled the hole, and tamped it down under my foot. The ghost lady, still looking sulky, pointed at herself and mouthed sister. She was saying she was my big sister? Cute enough to drive me insane. Heh heh heh. Seeing her like that, of course I wanted to tease her again.
I ran Detection and Analysis over the claw spear in case something had gone wrong with it, then hoisted the male's body and started for the river as I spoke.
"Sorry? Sister? What does that mean?"
I asked it wide-eyed and perfectly innocent, and the ghost lady stared at me in disbelief.
"The truth is, English is rat poison to me. I'm awful at it... Sorry."
I wore a glum look and turned my head a little, and she fell for it all over again. She hurried over in a fluster, waving her hands — no, no — and she was so cute I caught myself wishing I really had a little sister like her. But if she caught on that I was teasing her again, she might actually get angry, so I put on the gentlest face I could manage and let her know it was all right. The expression felt a little forced, and I wondered if she'd see through it — but she swept a hand down her chest and sighed. She hadn't caught on, had she?
Wasn't she too naive? The sort who'd genuinely believe you and tag along if you said trust your big brother and walked her straight into a motel. Then again, compared to a few hours ago when we'd first met, she'd brightened remarkably. Whether this was how she really was or not, she laughed easily, and that bright smile suited her pretty face. Looking at it, even my own chest felt at ease.
"Earlier you asked if I was an artisan, right? I'm just a little good with my hands, that's all."
And so the ghost lady stared at me, aghast. She came right up and, in the posture of someone trying very hard to explain, gestured this way and that while her mouth raced — and I couldn't understand a word of it.
"Hey, I mean — excuse me. Flandre... Miss Franc? I have no idea what you're saying!"
She didn't seem to hear me, so I waved a hand in front of her face. Only then did she freeze mid-motion and blink. She clasped both hands tight over her chest and looked at me with the most regretful expression she could muster. Then she suddenly ran out ahead, spread both arms to stop me in my tracks, and raised her right index finger to point at her own eyes.
She closed them and stood there awkwardly. That was the stance from when I'd thrust the claw spear, wasn't it? The awkwardness lasted only a moment. Something in the air changed. Facing me, she took the same stance I'd used when I killed the male giant field rat, then shot her hand straight out at my face, just the same.
Whoosh!
!!
In that instant something seemed to pass straight through my face, and a chill shot up my spine. Analysis told me that if there'd been a weapon in that hand, I'd have a hole in my head and be dead already. I froze on the result — and the ghost lady opened her eyes, looked at me, and started mouthing and gesturing all over again. Those large breasts swaying and jiggling with every motion snapped me back to myself in a hurry.
What had that been? She seemed to be explaining the thing from a moment ago with words, expression, and movement all at once. I could read a simple thought off a face, but speech poured out in that many words was something I absolutely could not follow. Ugh. Frustrating.
Maybe she read it on me, because the ghost lady stamped her feet, just as sorry that nothing was getting through. And yet the sway of her chest was so real she didn't seem like a ghost at all. A ghost that walked on the ground, no less. Weren't they supposed to fly around and pass through walls?