Through Another World (MSM)

Chapter 2

Hermit huffed, spread out along the ground. The only sound was the rhythmic tap of his thin tail each time it hit the ground and his own hoarse breaths.

He looked up at one of the walls of his bunker, the one covered in scratches. Each one represented a day trapped here, and there were far too many to count. They were even beginning to unevenly spread across the ceiling and floor, winding out onto other walls between his strange collections.

Had gazed thoughtfully at his hands, unrecognisable from his years trapped in the Human World. His scales were rougher and dirtier, streaked through with the deep scars of constant fighting for his life.

He let out a deep, lonesome sigh, slowly rising to his rough, dusty feet, boredly running his cut-covered claws along the dusty walls of his bunker.

Hermit slithered out of the small hole in the wall that led to the outside world, pushing through the dense bushes that hid his hideout from the humansd.
The Strombonin stared at his reflection in a puddle, formed from recently fallen rain, looking at the scars across his eyes and muzzle, and his cracked horn and armour plates.

Then he glanced back up at the stars and the shimmering full moon, breathing in cool nighttime air.
He remembered his days living on cold island- the snow beneath his feet all year long, his family surrounding him, the Werdos that he admired visiting every few weeks. What was it that they sang?
Look at the stars in the big black ink....
Tell me what you feel and tell me what you think...
Is it cold outside?
Is it cold out...?

He paused, trailing one foot-claw through the puddle, sending gentle ripples dancing across it's sleek surface. He felt lonely. And bored. And it was, indeed, cold outside.

Hermit perked up as he heard a rustle in the bushes. Humans? His faint thoughts whispered to him. He dashed silently across the moist grasses, diving swiftly into his bunker and nearly slamming into the wall as he skilfully skidded across the ground, grabbing one of the weapons in his collection of human stuff.

He held the gun tightly in shaking hands, peering out of the bushes in a stealthy crouch. An owl hooted in the distance. The human-world critter flapped off at the sight of him.
He waited with his gun lifted and one claw on the trigger for what seemed like forever, silencing his breathing.

Then he heard a louder rustle and saw a shape move. With a loud bang, he winced and pulled the trigger, hoping he hadn't hit an innocent critter.
But instead, the bullet whisked at breakneck speed just over the feathers of... a Tweedle. The stranger yelped as she was almost hit, falling back as a loudly screaming Dandidoo followed her.

"HEY! YOU! STOP WAVING THAT CRAZY THING AT MY SISTER BEFORE I GIVE YOU ANY MORE SCARS!"
He gasped as a blast of sudden wind knocked him over and vines grew around his feet. He'd never seen someone actually use Collosingum magic, but that was not the thing to mention right now.

"Wait! Stop!" He shouted hoarsely, his voice damaged from years of little speech. "I haven't seen other monsters in forever!"
"Gwen!" The Tweedle shouted at the same time, pulling the intimidating Dandidoo away. "Be nice!"
"Yes! Now let me go!"
The vines released Hermit's legs, allowing him to jump to his feet.

"Thank Galvana you're here! I've been alone for so long!"
"Not to be rude, but how long?" The Tweedle asked politely. She was brightly coloured, with feathers so long and thick they were tied back in braids. A necklace of wooden rainbow beads hung around her neck, clicking each time she took a step.
"I don't know for sure," he responded with a slight stutter, his head down. "But... it was the thirteenth of September, in the year 11985 when I came," My birthday, he thought with a frown. "Must've been... five years or so?"
"I don't think so, sir. You see..."
The Dandidoo (who seemed to be named Gwen) interrupted. "It's the first of September, 12000,"

Hermit felt like someone had just torn a hole through his chest. That was far longer than he'd expected.
I missed the new millennium. I'm in my 30s.
How...
Am I still alive...?

"Sir..." The Tweedle whispered calmly, placing a wing on his shoulder to comfort him. "Deep breaths. Are you ok?"
Hermit just stayed silent. After all these years he didn't realise he'd forgotten how to communicate.
"Come in," he said, awkwardly leading the newly-met monsters into his bunker. His mind was a tornado of thoughts and emotions, of excitement, confusion, worry.

He curled up on a beanbag in the corner, staring nervously as the two sat on the carpet in front. I never expected visitors.
"Uhhh... I'm Hermit,"
"I'm Pandora, and this is my sister, Gwen," the Tweedle responded. For the first time he noticed that Gwen had a crack running along her beak. He didn't even wince. He'd seen much worse wounds on himself.

The silence was broken suddenly by Gwen. "So. Are we going to be trapped here for... that long?"

Hermit sighed. Was he doing it too much? Was he being normal right now? "I've seen portals, but I can't leave without my Strombone. I'm convinced it's alive. I saw the humans taking it somewhere. But it's too dangerous,"

"So you've been moping around here for this long?!" Gwen shouted, her painted talons scraping the ground. "And not even trying?"

"Gwen!" Pandora yelped, turning to her sister. "Do you need help, sir?"

Hermit just nodded in silence.

"Here's a deal," Gwen snapped. "We help you find that Strombone of yours, and you help us ALL GET THE HECK HOME,"

Hermit perked up in excitement. He'd get his Strombone back. He'd go back to Cold Island... back home.

And see Harebell again.

He nodded and awkwardly shook Gwen's talon.