Eight 2: Chapter 12

“Do you have bad dreams often?” Mumu asked.

In my mind’s eye, a notification blinked, but I ignored it for the moment and just breathed. I still felt harrowed from dreaming of the Deer God, but at least my heart was my own again. That was to say, I’d calmed down—mostly—but the experience had kicked up some of the old baggage from my previous life.

“Not often,” I said. “Not anymore. I used to, though, for a long time.”

To Mumu’s credit, she didn’t make fun of an eight-year-old saying they had done anything for a long time. Instead, she nodded and said, “The world is a whetstone, and our tears ease the passage of our blades against its surface. There’s so much pain, but we turn toward the future so that we are sharpened and not dulled.”

“That’s wise for someone so young,” I said.

Mumu snorted. “And look at who is saying these words, our very own Eight. The way you hold yourself, the way you speak—sometimes I think you are a forest spirit pretending to be a human child.” She looked up at the night sky to admire the moon that’d come out from behind the clouds. “The words aren’t my own, but our lodge master’s. I’m merely borrowing his wisdom.”

“What’s the story between you and him?” I asked.

She smiled, wry and affectionate. “He holds me as a daughter of his heart, which let me tell you is a perilous thing. He is a man of high expectations.”

It was my turn to snort. “I’ve noticed. I suppose that explains the wager between you—he doesn’t want you chewing rocks. That’s the expression, right?”

Mumu nodded. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to grow overconfident. But our wager is also good for the lodge—it serves as a way to bring us all together.”

“Don’t tell me you actually like being called Little Mumu?”

“No, but I understand why our lodge master does what he does.” She sighed. “The whetstone is never comfortable, but knowing its purpose makes it tolerable.” Her teeth gleamed when she grinned. “And when the time comes for me to become lodge master, our brothers and sisters will have seen me earn it.”

“Mumu is ambitious,” I said.

“I was born with talent. It’s only right that I make the most of it.”

“There’s so much I still don’t know. I’m grateful to you for answering my constant questions.” I bowed to her, hands over my heart. “And for your help earlier too.”

My sudden earnestness must’ve caught Mumu by surprise. She scratched her cheek and looked away. “Mmm… as long as you keep learning, you’ll find your path.”

“Our Little Mumu, so wise.”

Mumu sputtered before saying, “What did you call me?”

“The ten days are not over,” I said. “Once they’re done, I’ll call you Mumu, but until then—”

She grabbed me in a headlock. I tried to slip free, but her arms were steel.

“Now, what were you saying?” she said, growling.

“I—uh—changed my mind and decided the lodge master is being needlessly cruel. I’ll call you Mumu.”

She smiled. “Such a clever child, our Eight.”

I kept watch during Mumu’s turn to sleep. Our conversation had been a welcome distraction, a respite to settle my emotions, but it was time to check the notification.

Huh? Aren’t those the exact same thing? A look at the tooltip revealed the difference however:

The Deer God had somehow modified the soul mark—that last line was new. What did he intend? How would the Soul Mark change me? I didn’t know the answer to either question.

If only I’d listened to my grandmother after encountering the god the first time. If only I had let her teach me. I had even ignored my grandfather when he’d tried to broach the subject—a disrespect that he’d never deserved. At the time, though, I’d refused to have anything to do with the animal gods, the spirits of the land, or any kind of ‘mumbo jumbo.’ All I wanted was to hunt, read, and avoid getting beaten up at school.

My thoughts circled and circled. All I knew was that healthy predation was good for the land. It kept animal populations in check and allowed plants and animals to flourish. In my previous world, when gray wolves had been reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park, for example, the area’s biodiversity had grown in just a few years.

I remembered the hours spent in my previous life looking at reels of elk browsing in winter on young willow, aspen, and cottonwood trees. The work was for a one-hour special we had produced for the Smithsonian on the relationship between wolves and elk in the national park.

The trees were critical to the forest’s beavers and helped them to survive the winter. So when the reintroduced wolves preyed on the elk, the beaver population had rebounded as a result. That meant more dams and a cascading benefit to fish and birds. There was also the carrion left by wolf kills—they were a buffet for scavengers and insects. The whole ecosystem became healthier.

It wasn’t all bad for the elk either. Sure, their mortality rate went up, but the elk became smarter—avoiding the wolves by moving in smaller herds and sticking to the heavy timber areas.

The hunter strengthened the herd and brought balance to the land. Okay, sure, I understood that. But what did it mean for the System?

I wasn’t able to sleep, so I sat with my thoughts for the rest of the night. Mumu woke up an hour before dawn and kept me company until the sun rose over the treetops. We brewed a pot of mint tisane in Bindeise’s kettle and listened to the music of the forest waking.

She was disappointed that there’d been no sign of the ghost in my dreams, so when the light grew stronger, we searched the area for clues, as well as his treasure. We thumped the remaining walls, moved equipment aside, and even dug a couple of exploratory holes. All we found were burnt wood and dirt. No clues, and definitely no treasure.

“Maybe Bindeise was on his way to retrieve his treasure before fleeing whatever had happened at his home.” I looked out past the ruined gate as I spoke. “If so, then it might be near where he died.”

“An interesting idea,” Mumu said. “If it were me, I wouldn’t leave my treasure behind.”

“You have treasure?” I asked, my eyebrows rising.

“I am a treasure, if you listen to certain sweet-talkers,” Mumu said with a grin.

“Should I try to steal you away, then?” I asked, grinning back.

“Alas, it’s too early for our Eight. Or, more truthfully, too late.” In the dawn light, Mumu blushed. “My heart has already been stolen.”

“I should offer my congratulations to Haol and Dena. When will the marriage ceremony take place? There are hunters betting on it.”

“Oh.” The blushing maiden became curious. “That’s interesting. How much?”

“Just a couple of taak. They’re betting on whether you’d marry before or after the fall season.”

Mumu looked away, disappointed. “Tsk.”

“Wait, are you seriously considering changing your marriage date to take advantage of the bet?”

“Of course not,” Mumu said. “Not for such a small amount. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

I had a suspicion and peeked at her talents again.

And there it was. Money Lover.

“Why are you giggling?” Mumu asked, confused by my snickers.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s… uh… let’s check around the area where Bindeise died.”

“Yes, Bindeise’s ghost must be appeased.”

I was putting up a good front, but my internal equilibrium was still off-kilter, and everything felt slightly askew. The sensation grew even stronger when we left the relative safety of Fort Sugar Shack.

I slipped into the land, and my senses went from skewed to overwhelmed. I was abruptly buried under the verdant forest, awash with life. It felt like insects crawled across my skin, color smeared into sound, and scent melded with taste and touch. The sensations paralyzed me.

I thought I’d been able to become one with the land before. That turned out to be just a pale imitation. To truly be at one was an experience of a very different kind.

Mumu touched me lightly on the elbow. Electricity sparked down the length of my arm. Her voice sounded watery, and I felt a closeness—the warmth of her attention on me. “Good, good. Your Stealth skill is improving. But we can’t spend too much time practicing our woodcraft. The militia trains today, and I promised to be there to help.”

Her voice gave me a place to focus, and the world spun a little less as a result—enough for me to find myself within the land. The boundaries were murky, but it was enough. I shuffled my feet after her.

Trees loomed and rippled as small creatures appeared to pass through them. A bush waved in greeting. A squirrel chirped angrily, warning me against stealing its hidden acorns. While it scolded me, another squirrel—this one with gray fur and red eyes—moved behind its back to sneak a few away.

I was at a loss. Becoming one with the land was one of my most useful skills—the non-System kind. It was something I’d spent a lifetime mastering, and now it was spiraling out of control. I felt like I was stumbling drunkenly through the forest.

Somehow, I managed to keep up with Mumu. I tried to limit the sensory overload from the land, but I was either in or out; there was no middle ground. Without the land, I was exposed and vulnerable to predators. With the land, I was like a tree ready to fall, rocking unsteadily in the wind.

Just what the hell had the Deer God done? I didn’t dare curse him, but I came close.

I chose safety over comfort and stuck with the land. That was how I found Bindeise’s ghost when I finally stumbled into the small clearing with his skeletal remains. He was gray-bodied, and I saw red splatters where he’d been stabbed. His eyes were red too—except where they’d been angry before, now he stared fearfully at me.

Holy hells, I’m seeing a ghost while awake.

“What’s wrong, Little Pot? Is there a sign on the tree there? A marker pointing to the treasure?”

I licked my lips. They felt dry and swollen. “I—I’m seeing Bindeise’s ghost now.”

Mumu’s eyes got big, and she quickly scanned the area for danger. “Here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you dreamt of him,” Mumu said. “That it was a sign.”

“I did.”

“But now you see his ghost. Is this a thing that you can do?”

I shook my head, which caused the world to swirl. “It’s never happened before. Not while awake anyway. Mi… my grandmother could see ghosts, though, and other spirits. She claimed to, anyway.”

“It’s a family talent, then. But it’s strange—I looked at the map of your spirit when you joined my team, and there was no sign of such a thing on it.”

I checked my Status and realized there were more blinking notifications. They hadn’t been there earlier and must’ve triggered after I became at one with the land.

The free point I had assigned after reaching Level 3 must’ve pushed my Spirit up to 15—my first time experiencing an increase without actually leveling. No doubt it was connected to whatever the Deer God had done to me.

“One of my attributes reached a milestone,” I said aloud. “I think I got another talent as a result.”

“Oh, oh, that’s good. That’s amazing! You have five talents now—our Eight is a genius!” Mumu picked me up and spun me around, laughing.

The disorientation turned my stomach over. “Down. Down! Put me down! I’m going to throw up.”

Mumu set me back on my feet, her face worried. “What’s wrong? Is it the talent? Something you need to become accustomed to?”

My stomach was queasy, but at least I didn’t feel like vomiting anymore. “Just… just give me a moment. I’m going to close my eyes for a while.”

“I will watch over you,” Mumu said.

“Thank you.”

“Silly boy. I am your hunt sister, your proud hunt sister. Now, do as you need to.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I clicked the notification from System-Eight first.

First things first, am I in trouble?

I sighed in relief. I didn’t think it was something the Deer God would do, but without mi abuela for guidance, I wasn’t sure. Then what’s happening?

Don’t tease me. What is it?

You mean Dog’s Agility?

I wonder if Ikfael will have some suggestions too.

The text in the box stopped mid-answer. S-Eight? S-Eight? Are you there?

There was no response, just the feeling of somber care left in his aftermath. I’d never seen him so serious before. Hesitant, I clicked the other notification.

When I had assigned the free point to Spirit, I’d hoped it would increase my capacity for and sensitivity to mana, but this was the result instead. And Mumu was wrong—the talent I’d just received as a result was my seventh. The first two just didn’t show up on my Visible Status. They were there on my Hidden Status, though:

I took a deep breath and looked closer at the new talent.

My heart already felt like a hummingbird hovering inside my chest, and somehow it now beat even faster. I knew from mi abuela how dangerous the spirit world could be. In many ways, ignorance was terrible; people were influenced by spirits all the time while being completely unaware. At the same time, ignorance was protection. It kept one from interacting with dark, unfriendly powers and being lured in by them.

In my previous life, there were some things I’d specifically avoided when I went looking into my grandmother’s legacy. For example, when Helen died, I’d never tried to contact her… never tried using my grandmother’s craft to contact any spirit or ghost. The world I was in now had protections my old world didn’t, though. That had lulled me into a false sense of security—into thinking I could go looking for ghosts. Instead, I’d found the Deer God. Or, more accurately, he’d found me.

I cracked an eyelid. Mumu watched the forest, spear in hand. Not ten feet away, Bindeise’s ghost kept a wary eye on me. The tree behind him seemed to want to brush him away with one of its branches, but the ghost wouldn’t budge. I closed my eye again when I felt the forest start to spin.

Will Dog’s Agility really help? All I could do was try.

Focusing inward, my mind fuzzed as I moved my qi through the required patterns. My thoughts blurred with the uekisheile’s concern. Not about Dog’s Agility—we’d made great progress in learning the spell. No, it was for me—for Ollie/Eight and the fear filling my meridians. They… we were doing our best to understand Ollie/Eight’s response to the strange experience.

Ever since we’d left the Red Room, we’d watched and learned—often keeping quiet until we understood more about what was happening. The cave, the forest, the Glen, Voorhei, and now the spirit world—each was an expansion on what we knew before. A new place to learn, to make relationships, and find meaning other than just consuming qi.

Life was dangerous. How would the spirit world be any different?

The consequences were what we should worry about. If a physical body is hurt, one can live or die, and if one dies, the spirit simply moves on. If the spirit body is hurt, though, the damage carries into the next life, or in the worst case, the next several lives.

Then we should learn to defend ourselves, we thought. Like we do with the bow and spear, with qi and magic. Life exists, and we exist within it. We have to face it, otherwise we’ll have to hide in a cave for the entirety of our existence. The same is true for the spirit world.

The realization that the uekisheile’s thoughts and mine were blended knocked me out of the land. Bindeise’s ghost disappeared, and the world around me steadied. I found Mumu standing over me. Apparently, I’d tipped over.

“Little Pot?”

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. System-Eight said not to freak out. Did he know this would happen? Why didn’t he warn me? It felt like I was being erased. Like I was disappearing. Damn it, I’m freaking out. I started to hyperventilate, the breaths coming short, fast, and uncontrolled.

“Little Pot! Steady yourself!” Mumu grabbed my shoulders, and a burst of qi blasted into me, jolting me out of my panic.

I felt the uekisheile gather the extra qi, but otherwise they kept to themselves. I knew what they were thinking though—I knew without them having to signal with their qi.

Ollie/Eight-is-slow. Sharing-is-good. We-want-to-share… more but we will not make you afraid. A tendril of their qi brought Mumu’s qi into my heart for assimilation. We will learn together.

The bundles of thought, emotion, and intention they normally used hadn’t changed, but somewhere in the middle of their communication, understanding had blossomed in my mind. I understood them more clearly than I ever had before, which shouldn’t have been surprising. For a time, I’d lost myself—my thoughts and feelings and everything else that made me who I am—and I’d fused with the uekisheile into something else, different, and other.

At that moment, I seemed to be myself again, but how long would that last? If the experience of me fusing with the uekisheile happened again—happened enough—would it change who I was?

A thread of intense panic started to rise within me, but I stuffed it down—as far down as possible—to keep it from the uekisheile. I had to act normally, no matter what. Them becoming alarmed wouldn’t help. Not that I thought they would intentionally cause me harm. The uekisheile wanted only good for me—I knew that in a way I hadn’t before—but their good didn’t necessarily mean my good. An invasion was still an invasion even if the invaders liked you and wanted to be your friend.

An hour passed with me trying to deal with what had happened. Not very successfully, but I had to put up a brave front for Mumu, who was looking at me with more and more concern.

“Your new talent is very challenging,” she said. “Sometimes it is like that. We should go to Sheedi for guidance.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle this. So much has already happened—this… this is just putting me over the top.”

She shook her head, as if to deny my worry. “Everything requires practice, Little Pot. Everything. You will be well. Our world speaker is clever. She will help you. Can you stand?”

She helped me upright. I touched the land, and immediately felt myself go sideways. More urgently, Bindeise’s ghost was inches from my face, peering at me with fascination, his earlier fear gone. Startled, I pushed him away, and he flew back—through the upset tree and into the foliage behind it.

Mumu dropped into a fighting stance, instantly wary. “Where?”

“The ghost—Bindeise’s ghost was too close. I just reacted to it. Sorry.”

Mumu’s wariness lingered. She looked around, but there was nothing for her to see. “You have gained an uncomfortable talent, Little Pot. Sometimes vision-related ones are like that—they take getting used to—but a talent for seeing spirits… I’ve never heard of anything like it, at least not in Voorhei. We’d best head back and talk to Sheedi as soon as possible.”