Sapienophobia

Chapter 22

I drank so much of my water it was difficult to breathe. I knew that if left alone, my stomach would want to upchuck my breakfast.

Calm down. I didn't do anything wrong.
I killed it to prove a point. I'm sickening.

I was still walking away from the crime scene. I stopped before my pacing would lead me to another death sentence.

I wiped my stained scalpel on my pant leg, front and back. The blood smear looked like it belonged there, a mad streak of red against a natural backdrop.

Any lowly predator with a decent sense of smell would have strayed far away from me and the high ones would've thought I was injured food. Which was just about true.

Rotating my shoulder was painful and nine fingers could only take one so far with sharp objects. That meant the only limbs I could rely on were my scarred legs.

What else are weak predators? I hurriedly moved on.

I spun to return to moth territory.

Lizards are too easy. Beetles can overpower moths with their size alone, I don't have such a luxury.

I paused to watch a worm writhe in a small puddle made by an object of likely no consequence. I stood there, entranced, for the next several minutes waiting to see how it was going to escape its predicament.

A lesson I learned when I was younger, if I touched it, it would shrink itself. Only in the presence of predators, though.

Their runes were observed on their heads, tails, and, through a recess experiment, their innards.

If it would shrink now, it could get out. Worms must be able to breathe underwater.
I won't intervene.
I intervened with the sparrow.
I don't need to intervene.

I shook off the regret of choosing the ants over earthworms for lessons as I watched it try to slither into a hole in the ground.

That'll make the puddle drain into there.

Even so, the worm did not return.

Rats, moles?
I'll need a shovel.
Not if I find a mound.

So I started digging around for molehills. I made sure to wrap my lack of finger so that I wouldn't have to clean it more thoroughly than I already was.

The old man said that the first few weeks were crucial, I needed to wash the stub well so that it could heal over properly. I couldn't see why it mattered, but I'd follow his advice lest he tried to do something else painful.

I bypassed the smaller ground critters I saw for the mole. I didn't decide on the rats because they could see and by the time the mole heard me, there'd be nothing it could do.

I spotted the ends of a tail, and I tugged on it. Out popped a rat.

It tried to bite me, and I reflexively dropped it. The vermin attempted to scurry back into the hole that looked too small for it.

I built tall walls surrounding the pit I made before pulling the mouse back out and blocking its exit. It was filthy.

It scraped the walls of my cage over and over again after seeing it couldn't climb them.

It then screeched.

Pitiful.
Another snout wriggled out of a nearby crevice.

Your mate?

Then another; one that bit me on the ankle. I stood to make a well-timed escape.

I didn't hurt you.

I didn't know that mice could communicate with each other from afar. I couldn't see their runes. It may have been magic unique to Murks mice.

I limped so far away that the rats couldn't see me, much less chase me. I had breached the path back to the guild, gasping for air.

My feet were sore. I sat to massage them.

I don't have any allies.
I can't block Sod's exit either. What's his is mine.
What can I do?
Give up and head back.
I won't be able to do that with Sod.
I can't be sure of that, and if so...all the more reason to do it now.

A cool breeze caressed my ears. I forced myself up. My toes throbbed on the way back, and I was afraid to check to see if they were bleeding.

I didn't notice until I got to the guild, but there were fewer humans on my return route. Less than normal.
This abnormality was attributed to the crowd of them at the entrance to the house.

I went around to the backdoor Vera had shown me. I doubted she intended me to use it for such unprofessional purposes.

It was locked, as expected so I foraged for a spare. Under the vases, between the arching stones. There was nothing.

If Vera ever misplaced their key, it wouldn't have been difficult for them to replace it or the lock.

I made a hasty analysis and then lifted a rock. The lock was old as dirt, it had completely rusted out, and I was surprised it was still functioning. The lock was old, not as old as the door itself but old enough to have completely rusted out; I was surprised it was still functioning.

I brought the rock down, breaking a large chip off of it. It scraped the lock.

A few more attempts and I'm through, I think.

I wasn't an acrobat by any stretch of the imagination so climbing to my room was a pipe dream. Especially with a missing finger. I barely managed to climb a tree with branches that were basically rungs with a full hand.

I knew the repeated clanking on the lock would attract unwanted attention. I just assumed I'd be in by the time anyone could say anything.

The lock might as well have been made of fresh tungsten. Despite its age and scratches, it withstood every blow I struck down upon it.

I changed my target from the lock body itself to the slightly thinner shackle. It would doubtlessly break after more aggravation. There were tiny shards and residual metal fragments from previous wear that coated the tip of my rock.

I heard footsteps nearing; I scrapped the idea of using sheer force on the shackle and settled for sawing it with Father's handy scalpel.

Hurry.

"Shin," Herl said.

I could only take in one breath. We were outnumbered.

Herl had two humans at his flank, and there were two more beckoning me.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.