Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

            One thing that Terra had learned was that just because you’re hurting, doesn’t mean you have to hurt others too. Sure, she just wanted to get out of there. Sure, she just wanted one day where she wasn’t worried about people trying to kill her. Sure, she just wanted a friend. Others could be in much more pain than you. Doubtful in this case, but still possible.
            She sat up in her room at the inn and marched down the path for Judar’s post, Carrie in hand. Something wasn’t right with that boy--the pain in his eyes in killing someone he’d killed so effortlessly many times before--and she was going to find out the truth of what he knew.
            It all felt so repetitive, and yet it was different every time. Judar wasn’t quite snoozing this time, and jumped awake as she approached.
            “…”
            “…Nice face-leaf,” he started off their conversation, pointing out her newest mark of death. She ignored the dark feelings brewing within her heart and went on speaking as usual. At the end, of course, she said thank you.
            Judar flinched.
            His eyes flickered to her face, the moth spiraling overhead, the protective rat glowering from her pocket.
            “What?” he breathed.
            “Thank you.”
            She turned and continued back to town, never looking back.

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            The next day, Judar wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the glowworms, deep in thought. She had been wondering for a while after his reaction before--was she getting through to him?
            Judar was different. He wasn’t even surprised at the stranger coming to visit again--and she was a stranger, right? He…had to know things that he wasn’t supposed to. He had to. Right? Where else would this guilt be coming from?
            Her stomach rumbled loudly, starting them both out of their reveries.
            “You’re hungry,” he stated the realization as if it should have been obvious. “How? Aren’t you staying at Stal--…”
            “How do you know?” she questioned with skepticism. They didn’t know each other yet--or more, weren’t supposed to. Judar stayed frozen with a blank look on his face.
            “It’s the only place to stay in Slag Town if you don’t…uh, live here,” he said finally, though unconvincingly.
            “So, Stally’s?” he offered suddenly instead of his usual spiel.
            “Huh?” she replied dumbly.
            “They’ve got the best chow.” Judar motioned back to Slag Town. It was an offer.
            “Y-yeah. Sure.”
            “Germ’s gonna heckle me for not lifting the barrier anyways, and I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
            With that he walked in the direction of town, not seeming to care if she followed or not.

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            “Two rounds of chow,” Judar said to Stally.
            “You don’t come into town often, Jude,” Stally said judgmentally as she leaned on the bar, then turned and hollered, “Mom! Chow!” before continuing, “But I see you met this brat--got mugged in the street yesterday and still somehow managed to move in here.”
            First: hearing Stally speak struck her with déjà vu. She spoke normally as one unaffected by the time jumps. Judar didn’t, he changed and moved and caught her off guard constantly. Second: what a depressing fact that it had only been one day to Stally and the others around here. Meeting those feline nare-do-wells felt like weeks ago.
            “Speaking of, you gotta pay up if you wanna stay another night,” Stally reminded.
            “Yeah, I know,” was all she said. Stally’s mother placed two bowls of ‘chow’ on the bar.
            “Stally! Help me get this drunken a*****e out of here,” her mother yelled, leaving just Judar at the bar with the not-so-new girl.
            “Thank you!” she called after the two stone-women, receiving a smile from Stally and many distasteful looks from around the pub. Judar’s was one of them.
            “Why do you do that all the time?” he asked with sudden aggression.
            “Huh? Do what?”
            “Go with that sugary-sweet schtick--saying thank you and acting all helpless--it just makes people want to kill you more,” he warned knowingly.
            “You’re mad at me for saying…thank you? It’s--it’s just polite, I don’t know. I’m thankful, so why not?” That last question seemed to get him.
            “Because,” Judar went on obviously, “If it won’t make them add value to your life, then it doesn’t matter. No ‘thank you’ is going to change that. That’s like first grade, sweetheart.”
            “It’s not just about using people,” Terra defended, “It’s about making life…worth it, for everyone.”
            Judar watched her with new and wary interest, only to respond with a shrug.
            “This chow’s the best in town--it’s the only in town.” He swiftly changed subjects by digging into what looked like a disposable basket of food…scraps? A tentative bite hit back with an overwhelming amount of spices to cover up the taste of garbage. But she was too hungry not to eat it, so she did so in small, reluctant bites.
            “Good, eh?” Judar was done with his before she’d even made a dent in hers, but she nodded anyways.
            “‘Kay, cause there’s something I have to ask you.”
            She wiped her hands on a napkin and waited while he tried not to catch her eye and stutter, “It’s stupid…but, a softie like you oughtta have an interesting answer. Um, so what do you think…” He looked uncomfortable. “What makes a person good?”
            The question was out there, and she felt a strange sense of pride at him having asked it. The growing tiara of laurels had to be moved out of the way to look the nervous boy in the face, yet she smiled anyways--a genuine one--and tilted her head.
            “I don’t think it’s any one thing that makes a person good,” she began to muse, “because what is good? It changes from person to person, so there isn’t really one right answer.”
            “Well, what do you think then?”
            Terra mulled over that one for a while, staring into her bowl of slop.
            “Like I said, I don’t think any one specific thing determines if a person is good. But…it can be one small thing that does.”
            Judar squinted at his empty food basket in silence.
            “If…if that makes any sense,” she faltered.
            “Yeah, okay. I get it. It can be one little thing…” He stood to leave, fishing a few buttons from his pocket and placing them on the bar. “Give those to Stally’s mom.”
            Stally wandered back as she watched him go.
            “Oh man, the idiot paid WAY extra!” she said excitedly, snatching the coins in excitement.
            “Unless, these were yours?”
            Terra couldn’t bring herself to answer as she contemplated; was that on purpose? Stally pocketed the coins before she could decide.
            “Welp, mine now,” she said unapologetically, then narrowed her eyes begrudgingly at Terra’s fallen expression.
            “And you can stay another night, I guess--I wasn’t sure you’d survive the night out there yesterday--butdon’ttellmymom,” with that she spun away to harass more guests, leaving Terra smiling down at her food.
            “…It can be one little thing.”

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            Judar stared her down from far, far away as she approached.
            “Good morning,” she began within earshot, and the navy demon erupted. His wings shot out and he lunged, snagging her wrist in his hand. A loud scream erupted from her throat before she realized they weren’t taking to the air this time.
            “Listen, I--”
            He fell silent and threw a terrified glance towards the mountain crag as Jeremiah stalked out with a malicious smile that made her heart stop.
            “Well done, brother! She came, just like you said!” he crooned in his approach. Her heart clenched at the realization, but she couldn’t comprehend; why would he do this, and then look so pained?
            “Well, Judar. Were you going to start the fun without me?” Jeremiah hissed and held out an impatient hand. “Hand her over, and we can make another example of those who question our barrier.
            Judar looked to his brother, then to the girl in his grip. She shut her eyes and braced for an impact, but when nothing happened she opened them.
            “Just one thing, right?” he asked, confusing Jeremiah. Terra allowed for one brief moment of hope.
            “Brother, stop messing around. Either kill her now or hand her over to me!” Jeremiah yanked hard on her shoulder, ready to do it himself when Judar pulled her back. At first Jeremiah was shocked, but that quickly changed to anger.
            “Oh, I’m going to hurt you both, very badly,” Jeremiah promised, heat already searing through her shirt where his hand clenched. She cried out, causing the tension around them to grow until Judar finally whispered in her ear.
            “I won’t make it hurt. Just come back, okay?” he plead, then he whispered something that blackened her vision and put her to sleep.