The Darkest Woods

Bread and Ale

Gran came out with a bit more than just bread and ale, but that was just it; it wasn't much more.

'Twas nearly the night, and the day drew to a close as Svell and Lissandra ate over mugs of ale: bread and dried meat; turned out Gran'd something left after all. Wasn't the freshest cut by any stretch of the imagination, but it was better than nothing at all. But then again, no one really counted this cuisine as real meat in the first place. Poor man's jerk, most called the stuff—but Svell didn't mind, as he'd lived on it anyway. Lasted for years, particularly in the cold, and for that alone, Svell appreciated it.

So, Gran stood there behind the counter as she steepled her fingers, all sad in the eyes. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "Bread's a bit crumbly... Found some dried meat been packed away. Seemed alright enough for eatin', I supposed."

Svell sat on the other side, Lissandra next to him. He took a bite out of one of the few strips of dried beef on his wooden plate; chewy. "It's fine, Gran." He smiled warmly; didn't do that often, at least not for just anyone. "When something comes from the home, it's always the best anyway."

"You were always a dear, Svell." Gran's expression warmed, and she changed the subject. "Monsters needed huntin'?"

"Yeah." It was half the truth. He glimpsed Lissandra shaking her head.

"Well, glad to have ye back then—and see ye safe!" Gran never pried, and for all the questions she might have had at the moment, she seemed content anyway; she just nodded. "Ye know ye'r always welcome 'ere."

"Not sure what'd I'd do otherwise." Svell smirked. "Only place I can get a good ale." He downed the rest of his mug.

Gran cackled out her laughter. "See Lissa? Even he knows: Best tap for miles 'cross the Hallowed Vale, servin' ale and the 'arder stuff alike." She glanced aside; an uproar sounded from behind. Svell looked back to see two patrons getting into a fuss over a game of Jaf, probably with stakes involved. Got physical, and one threw the first punch—

"'Ay!" Gran took Svell's empty mug and slammed down. It shook the counter, and the lycan flinched. "No fightin' in 'ere. Take yer pissin' match outside and go measure your dicks somewhere else!" Her voice carried itself through the entire tavern, and all was silence—save for an aggressive dog that barked for a bit before becoming silent itself.

"Gran!" Lissa leaned forward, whispering sharply.

"My fuckin' dick?!" One of the patrons got up; seemed like a disreputable sort—one who threw the punch. His clothes were quite a mess, his pants sagging beneath his feet. "I'll not have some old wench tellin' me what to do; does ye even know whos I am?"

The hunter rose up from his seat. "Exactly!" He began. "Doesn't anyone know who this man is?"

The brothel remained silent.

Svell shrugged. "Me neither."

It started with several snickers and then some short chuckles, but before one could finish counting to say, ten, the entire brothel thundered with laughter, including that of Gran's. Even Lissandra, who'd more than once been on the receiving end of Svell's humiliation, managed to let slip by a few snorts as she tried to suppress herself.

"I'll fuck you up!"

The disgruntled patron moved towards the hunter, shoving everyone—strumpet and man alike—aside as he shambled onwards; he seemed rather drunk, swaying left and right. The brothel had a good share of pets, and the patron kicked away a cat that hissed viciously straight afterwards.

When near, the man reeled back to deliver a crushing (if not clumsy) blow. But as the man's fist soared forward, Svell caught it in one of his palms. The man was taken aback, his jaw dropping.

With his other hand, Svell took hold of Lissandra's mug and slammed it onto the patron's hard noggin as it exploded into tiny little fragments.

"Ay, you payin' for that, Svell dear?"

The ale erupted all round and drenched the patron's hair, some of the liquid splashing onto Svell's coat as well. The drunk crumpled to the floor without so much as letting out a groan. Svell glanced at the place where the two'd been sitting, and the other patron was gone, his chair thrown behind, probably in a hurry to get the hell out. Svell didn't blame him.

Lissandra nodded. "Not bad," she said. "Ever thought about being a bouncer?"

"Nah," Svell responded. "I like a good fight; not that this counts."

Lissa narrowed her eyes and glanced aside. "Could tell." She put on a shit-eating grin afterwards.

"Hey, never lost one, you know." He actually had.

"Cept with me." Lissandra winked.

In the bed, Svell imagined her finishing. He waggled an index finger. "Tsk tsk tsk."

Lissandra stuck out her tongue with a half-formed smirk on her face.

The patrons had since resumed whatever they'd been doing beforehand, and Svell caught sight of a doberman sniffing the man's head; licked his face a few times afterwards. Same dog that barked before, no doubt. The two locked eyes.

"Suba?"

Instantly, Suba was on top of him, climbing as though to meet his owner's face.

Svell scratched Suba behind the ear; he remembered him liking it there. "Thought I'd see you earlier," Svell said friendlily. "How old is he now?"

"On his seventeenth," Gran said.

Svell folded his arms. "Seventeenth?"

"That's right; should take him to chase down rabbits again 'fore he starts pushin' up the weeds."

Svell nodded, and she was right. As energetic as the old pooch was, he was no doubt on his last year, hopefully two. Svell did miss their hunts together way back when. Just as Svell had learned about animals before he did monsters, he also had tracked and hunted them as well.

The doberman trotted off, running after a patron. The patron, old, and a bit grayed himself, bent down and scratched behind one of the doberman's ears saying, "Good boy!" and, "Gonna buy ye some good jerk tonight. C'mere ye old wazzock. Let's be goin' now." Suba jumped around him, causing a strumpet to squeal as she shrank back between a set of tables.

Svell smiled, glad to see his companion's been in good hands. "That dog's older than even you, Gran, at least in dog years."

"And all the wiser and stronger for it." She found a broom she kept handy for spillage. She handed it to Svell from across the counter along with a dusting pan. "Clean up the mess, and ye won't have to pay for nothin'. Gonna put one of the ladies on duty now; need me some rest... been good seein' ye."

"Careful now, that's blackmail." Svell shook his head, pausing for a moment as he chuckled under his breath. "Of course, and good seeing you too." he said right after. He took responsibility and cleaned up—even throwing the patron outside. The drunk was a heavy oaf with a potbelly to boot. Smelled rancid too, like shit mixed with sweat.

When the lycan had gotten back, Gran was gone, as was Lissa, and only one of the strumpets remained behind the counter, stationed to take Gran's place for the night as patrons continued to bustle about.

She was a cutesy little girl, but with a smug grin on her face; reminded Svell of Lissandra's. "See somethin' ye like?" She flipped her hair back once, the color a light blonde. "Know I do..."

"No," he said curtly, "I don't." He reached into one of his pockets, drawing out a thin gold coin, crooked and bent; he placed it onto the counter. Svell kept about a hundred on hand at any given time. Some in his pockets to exchange for coppers or silvers, the rest in a satchel on his waist he compulsively retied every few days. "Give it to Gran," he said simply. "Tell her it's from Svell; if I hear she doesn't get it, I'll tie that lovely hair of yours to your bedpost while you're sleeping."

The girl squeaked. "Uh, there'll be no need for that!" She ran off, disappearing past the door behind the counter. Gran slept there.

"I was joking," The hunter said. But it was more to himself, as the girl was long gone. He did mean it.

Svell sighed. It was time to talk to Lissandra about help with killing monsters.