As it turned out, she didn’t need any help being woken up, as she was woken by a piercing scream of terror in the distance that lasted half a minute before it abruptly stopped. This was still better than her first morning in the Forest. It was considerably less stressful now that she didn’t have as many bugs to deal with. She still didn’t get enough sleep, and her vegetarian copy didn’t taste any better despite her constant complaints.
Besides her was a new uniform to replace the one that’d been dirtied beyond all recognition, which was fine with her, since she still wasn’t certain how to wash any of her clothes. Even finding a dependable drinkable water source was beyond her comprehension. If it weren’t for the emergency reserves she’d packed or the head-sized drops of dew, she would’ve dried up long ago.
After Breakfast, she asked the Burned Man, “What was all that noise earlier about?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem. Unless you want to make it your problem.”
“Uh…” she hesitantly replied.
“Didn’t think so. You’ll be getting your instructions later.”
She waited there apprehensively, wondering just what thankless task she’d be assigned with today, the Pale Boy standing alongside her. Seeking further helpful information, she asked, “Could you tell me what all that screaming was about?”
(You don’t want to know)
“Yes, I don’t want to know! But I’d like to know if it’s going to affect me later down the line.”
For this, the Pale Boy was caught in a state of bewilderment of how to answer this, and was (un)characteristically silent.
“Let me rephrase the question. Could you tell me whether I’m in any danger or not?”
(No)
The answer was so abrupt it took her a moment to realize she got it. “No, you can’t tell me, or No, I’m not in danger?”
Before she could get any further clarification, the Burned Man returned, handing over some heavy-duty ear mufflers “You’ll be needing these today. You’re going to be pulling up Mandrakes.”
She put the mufflers over her head, blocking out any audiable sounds in the vicinity. It was a welcome respite from not having to hear his scratchy voice. But that relief was tempered when he demonstrated what was needed by yanking out a plant from the ground. It made a shrieking sound that resonated even through the dense covering over her ears. There was more things he said regarding safety, but she got the gist of it.
At least she knew what that screaming early in the morning wasn’t.
As soon as the Burned Man left for parts unknown, she bent down, bracing herself for the next onslaught, when the Pale Boy stopped her. The Pale Boy stuck his lengthened tool hand in the dirt surrounding the bud, then made a twisting motion, pulling the whole pile surrounding the plant up. Then with his raised arm, he dangled the spud at an awkward level. With his other arm bent far back, he deftly brushed off the soil surrounding the Mandrake.
When hints of the plant’s front face became visible, the Pale Boy concentrated on removing excess soil from the surrounding areas, rotating his overhead wrist. Once those were taken care of, he went back to the surface. When the face of the Mandrake was finally clear, it opened its mouth as usual, but instead of emitting a piercing cry, the Mandrake simply… yawned.
The Girl had been bracing herself, but was so surprised at this reaction that she too felt affected and started yawning too. She looked at the Pale Boy with eagar anticipation, waiting for him to yawn too. When he didn’t open his mouth, that was when she leaned closer and noticed that he wasn’t breathing. At all.
“You’re not really alive are you?”
The Pale Boy simply lowered his head in a non-committal manner.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to – how did you find out about this, anyways?”
The Pale Boy pressed the palms of his hands against his ears and gave a grimace, as if saying (The sounds from the plant bothered me so much for so long I wondered if there was a better way) Then the Pale Boy bent down, taking the sprout in his hand, and pulled the Girl’s hair.
“OW! What was that – ”
The Pale Boy gave an apologetic look, then gestured towards his other hand holding the sprout in the ground.
“Oh. OOOOH.” she said, intuitively grasping what he meant. He never intended to hurt her. He was simply illustrating his point.
“But why haven’t others picked up on this discovery?”
The Pale Boy gestured towards a spot where a clock would’ve been located on his arm.
“Of course. Typical impatience.” They could be kind, but they didn’t want to. It simply wasn’t efficient.
The Burned Man had wanted a hundred of the Screaming Plants pulled up before the end of the day. He also said something to the Pale Boy that she only now realized was, “Don’t be gentle. It’s a rush order.”
Now that she knew how to better approach this, she started helping out by brushing away the dirt from the Mandrakes the Pale Boy dug up. She still wore her earplugs – she wasn’t going to be caught off guard by accident. The Girl would’ve been content with doing some digging herself, but there weren’t any tools that could’ve made the job easier. After an hour of this task, she absent-mindly asked, “Why do you have blades for fingers anyways?”
(Hold up your hand)
Surprised by this unusual request, she did as asked, spreading her fingers. The Pale Boy held his hand in a mirror image, contrasting their difference.
(I’ve grown so accustomed to them that I can’t imagine being limited the same way you are. You only have five digits. I have over twenty)
Slowly, she pressed her hand against the Pale Boy’s sharp appendages.
(You like the feel of my blades?)
She had to agree with him there. Being so close to element of danger, but on controllable terms. Then, she had to pull away, because she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Her hand was still itchy from the irritant plant from yesterday.
(What’s wrong with that?)
Nothing.
(Let me see)
She reluctantly opened her palm to him. He looked at the clawed surface with mild interest. Then he awkwardly reached inside his pocket and took out a tube. (Try this)
The Girl twisted the top off, and rubbed the ointment over. The swelling went down almost immediately. Whatever this stuff was, it was far more efficient than what she’d brought. Her alleviation faded just as quickly by the next ‘words’ that came out of the Pale Boy.
(I made you feel good. Now, you can help me feel good)
The Girl was apprehensive. Considering the Pale Boy’s physical limitations, she had a pretty good idea of what kind of favor he was going to ask.
The two of them went inside an abandoned alcove for privacy, where the Pale Boy put his bladed hand on a mechanical device, then twisted his arm in a corkscrew manner, detaching the whole rigamarole off. Then he pointed the stumpy end in her direction.
(Reach inside)
She was confused. “What am I – ”
(You’ll know when you feel it)
She started poking the curved entrance with her fingers, but was stopped when the Pale Boy pointed to a nearby table with pointy swabs. Feeling somewhat stupid, she used those instead, and started cleaning the interior. It was hard to tell, since he still wasn’t making any noise, but there was a certain amount of satisfied relief on his face every time she cleaned the inside from an angle he couldn’t have possibly reached on his own. When she removed a hair or pebble that had gunked its way inside, the smile he gave was immeasurable.
As it turned out, her apprehension was due to miscommunication issues. When he ‘said’ (good), he actually meant (better). Too bad. She was willing to help him feel ‘good’ in another way entirely.
This is They 