Sapienophobia

Chapter 10

The next morning, I slept as much as possible so that when I headed to the Murks late that afternoon, I could observe the moths at their busiest with my inexhausted attention.

After this prey, I'll start looking into Sod by checking out his victims, I decided.

The candy that I had forgotten about in my pocket had melted and fought me to remove it from the fabric.

I need to change clothes anyway.

I got dressed to go wait in the lobby for Herl, my food shuttle.

My gray wilderness boots sat beside the door as always. The fogs weren't freezing like in the East, but it wasn't exactly warm either so I wore my only thick, long-sleeved hoodie. I bought it because I didn't have any when I hauled ass from my district; the tailor no doubt thinks I'm insane. The hood kept the human passersby from identifying that I was Anide at a glance, but the near winter clothes caused them to hold their stares. I'd keep my head down, hyperventilating to the Murks but I didn't regret it once I got there.

It needed to be washed, seeing as I was wearing it back to back almost every day but I figured my bodily odors blended with the Murks' musks would be on par with lazily fashioned camouflage. It'd be more conspicuous to the inhabitants if I suddenly smelled like flowers and vanilla.

Yesterday's pair of pants also were stained with what I hoped wasn't animal feces at the ankles. I didn't want to check my bed sheets either; they didn't smell, so I hoped for the best.

The two pairs of pants I had left to choose from were beige corduroys and black capris. The beige was an unsavory color and would repel my teachers, but the capris would invite the mosquitoes and their cousins to fine dine on my ankles.

Let's go with the capris and wash clothes when I get back. I think it should be alright if I don't add suds or perfumes to the cleaning glyph.

There was an almost biohazardous pile of garments that I had let accumulate on the side of my bed that wasn't closest to the door. I dreaded using a human magical apparatus to wash my clothes but now I had no other choice. I tried convincing Herl after the first week but he flatly declined. Apparently, Anide killers drew the line at washing each other's underwear for money.

I had missed breakfast so Herl would have to go get a meal for me from the surrounding human eateries. I didn't like eating human foods but I tried not to think about the smooth hands that made it.

I gagged at the thought.

Out of the 130 yas, give or take, I made a day, on average, 13 went to Herl. Vera only let me have one bounty, one I still hadn't done, so technically I was getting paid way more than I merited. Not that I merited anything.

Paydays were the first of every week, and there was always a mob of assassins surrounding Danny's desk with complaints about their wages. I wouldn't have minded it if they weren't in my way. I got pushed over twice and still barely to receive the bag from Danny, who was ignoring everyone to hand off the next stipend. When I finally did manage to escape the protestors, Herl was waiting for me and his cut.

I couldn't say the man wasn't an opportunist. He always got me what I needed and some things I didn't know I wanted. Like lunches. Amazingly enough, he understood child palettes to a T. There were never any peppers or extravagant spices in the meals. And he always surprised me with what he brought so I saw it as something to look forward to.

Vera was hopeless in that sense of understanding me, but not for lack of trying.

I picked at a scab while I was waiting. I had scraped my elbow against a tree when I was with the ants. It wasn't large or itchy, it just annoyed me so I scratched at it until it bled. Then I rolled up my sleeve and looked for my next form of entertainment.

I stood to examine the poorly drawn caricatures on the commission board meant to be rough sketches of existing bounties. They had me wondering what their models actually looked like.

Maybe the sketch artist can draw me one too.
If I fail my bounty, can I be a sketch artist?
If it wasn't obvious, they need to be good at drawing.

My sketches only had my late family members as critics so I didn't know whether I had a knack for drawing or not. Their constant compliments signaled to me that they weren't as good as they hyped them up to be.

I wanted nothing more than to hear their false compliments now.

I couldn't stand the possibility of embarrassment should my sketches turn out to be bad.

I jumped when Herl elbowed me in the shoulder with my plate while I was zoned out. He shook his head knowingly.

"Don't have a heart attack now," he warned, placing my food in front of me.

Is that a possibility for me? Having a heart attack from being too scared?
I thought that only applied to the elderly.
I should've brought more of Father's herbs, he no doubt had some for heart disease.

I made eye contact with Herl, deliberating.

I frowned, upset that he had managed to startle me.

With all I've learned, I should be making him jump.
Blame it on his experience.
What experience? I've never seen Herl doing any bounty work.
I should ask him.
He'll give me some snarky, unclear answer if I do.
Maybe he works at night, when I'm rocking myself to sleep.
Should I ask Danny? He would know.
What if he tells Herl? What would he think then?
He makes time to bring me food, and that's all that matters.

I removed the lid with anticipation. A fish sandwich, fried perfectly and assembled on the blandest of white bread. It was dry, the way I liked it, save for the leaves of doom resting on top of the cut. I removed them, much to Herl's disagreement, and dug in. Each bite was accompanied by a lecture about "proper nourishment of the developing body."

I wiped my hands before paying Herl what he was due. He nodded, content watching me set off.

I had memorized the route to the Murks with the least amount of human traffic. Sure, the route was roundabout and a bit lengthy, but my being able to travel without breaking down took priority.

It was still early so I settled for having to observe the rest of the moth's slumber.

They were drowsy, so I only got to test out my reptile foot-eye coordination for a while and observe their stirred reactions when I poked them. It made their marked wings mimic my skin color, intending to confuse the potential predator.

More camouflage.

Nowhere near the deer's awareness, though. I clapped a few feet from them and they barely moved. They slept under tree branches for shade and elevation from predators. I understood the intention but a fat lot of good that did them when the lizards started climbing.

I kicked up some dirt bored before heading deeper into the woods.

Might as well waste some time until they start getting lively again.

If the trees had shortened or extended in height during my walk, I couldn't have noticed. I made it to a rocky plain in the forest; I had never seen that terrain before.

Maybe I'm close to the water body.

It lacked trees for a few kilometers in a shaky circle. The bushes surrounding it were berryless.

I crouched hearing a rustle in front of me. I hadn't noticed the slight clearing in the fog nor the lack of prey territory markings.

Then they emerged.

Wolves.