The muddy road beneath the group squelched with every step they took. It was a better walking experience than the rugged terrain of the forest, but only barely. Norman cringed inwardly whenever mud entered his expensive oxfords and soaked through his socks. If he had to compare the sensation to something, then he’d liken it to the experience of unexpectedly vomiting all over your feet after a night of drinking. Unpleasant, to say the least.

  Pail walked on his own next to Pretty to give them some rest. Neither of them seemed bothered by the nearly un-walkable road. Pail kept stopping to pick up a handful of mud every now and then. He’d carefully shape it into a ball as they walked, getting the mud all over himself and his clothes. Whenever he was finished with one of his mud balls, he’d throw them as far as he could, only to start the process all over again.

  After an hour of walking, they could finally see the wooden walls of a village in the distance. It looked like a small and peaceful village, judging by the single guard at the gate wearing nothing but a sword on his hip. The guard perked up when he spotted the group, his aged brow furrowing in suspicion. Norman couldn’t blame him. If he saw a man, a child, and a blue fox in the state they were in, he’d also be wary.

  Pail felt uncomfortable under the man's gaze and hid behind Norman for comfort, dirtying his suit even further. Pretty thought it was a game and hid behind Pail, making the whole group into a strange conga line as they approached the gate.

  “What's your business in Hardwood?” The guard asked gruffly, placing his rugged hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I can assure you that we mean no harm. We just got a bit lost in the woods and would like someplace to stay for the night.” Norman assured the guard while trying to look as professional as possible.

  “And the beast?” The guard pointed his chin at Pretty, who was wagging their tail like no tomorrow.

  “Rest assured. It is a pet and will do no harm.” Norman lied seamlessly. Pretty wasn’t a pet; they were just tagging along for a while, and he had no idea if they would attack someone. Norman comforted himself by remembering that lying has its place in polite society.

  The guard flashed Pail his most reassuring smile as he approached the boy and spirit fox. However, this had the opposite effect: It scared the boy into shoving his head underneath Norman’s suit jacket, convinced that if he couldn’t see the guard, then the guard couldn’t see him either.

  “A shy one, huh?” The elderly guard chuckled. “My boy was the same when he was that age. He would always hide under my wife’s skirt whenever company came over. A real momma’s boy, that one.”

  Norman felt like an inconvenient misunderstanding was forming. It was a better misunderstanding than the people of this world thinking of him as a kidnapper, so he just nodded in agreement. He would’ve smiled if he had the ability to—smiling and nodding is the way out of every uncomfortable conversation, after all.

  “Mind if I check if the beast’s tame? Usually, they only let you enter with an animal if it was a tamer’s collar, but considering the state you’re in and the kid you got with you, I’m just gonna do a quick test if you’ll let me.” The guard’s mood lightened after seeing Pail. He reminded him of his own son, who was all grown now. He went off to find fortune as an adventurer, but he hadn’t come home to visit since.

  When Norman nodded in approval, the guard stuck his forearm in Pretty’s face while keeping the other on the hilt of his sword. His vambrace would protect him if the beast decided to lunge, and he could swiftly cut its head off before it did any further damage. He didn’t feel good about potentially beheading a beloved pet, but there were pregnant women and children in the village he had to protect.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Pretty curiously sniffed the rough-looking stranger. He smelled like dirt and steel with a hint of ale. It was different from the scent of sun and dust coming from the small friend or the smokey scent of the big clutz. Different, yes. But uninteresting. This person had the same scent as most people who entered the forest. With a swish of their tail, Pretty turned away, completely uninterested.

  “Alright, this beast is a tame one. Be sure to get it a collar at a tamer’s guild when you can. We don’t have one in Hardwood, but Lugg has one; it’s a day’s walk from here.” The guard groaned as he stood up, clutching his back. He probably wouldn’t be a guard for much longer.

  Norman sighed in relief that he hadn’t picked up a public menace in the form of a fox. “I will keep that in mind. Also, would you happen to know someplace that sells clothing? Both of us are in dire need of a change.” Norman asked, gesturing to his soaked suit and Pail’s filthy rags.

  “You’ll find Patricia’s shop if you keep walking straight down. She’s a lovely girl who will be sure to give you a discount in your current state. Hers is the sign with a needle and thread on it.” The guard said with a kind smile as he waved them off. “My name’s Renold, by the way! Enjoy your time in Hardwood!”

  Pail got a sizable hard start as he zoomed through the village. He hadn’t seen this many people since his time with the angry men. His eyes scanned the various storefronts and hanging signs lining the main street. He couldn’t read, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. Most shops had an emblem of what they sold inside. The blacksmith had a sign of an anvil, the baker a loaf of bread, and the inn had a bed.

  There were so many fun things to see in this new place, but Pail still whipped his head around every now and then to check if Norman was following. When he saw Norman and Pretty in the distance, he felt at ease. They’d only known each other for a little while, but any person who shared their food with him was a good person he wanted to stay with. Finally, spotting the thread sign hanging on a quaint two-story house, Pail darted straight in.

  Patricia, the shopkeeper, was startled by the noise of the door flying open and let out a surprised “Squak!”. Patricia was a Karura, a species of demon with the body of a human but the wings and head of a chicken. Embarrassed by her reaction, she straightened out her dress and headed to the front to greet her customer.

  When she found out her customer was a hybrid child, she felt apprehensive. Not because hybrids are bad per se, they were recognized citizens of both empires and have human rights. However, the unfortunate fact was that human adventurers often had their way with naive demon girls, leaving them with a hybrid child they couldn’t take care of. These children usually get abandoned or sold into slavery, and Patricia simply wasn’t capable of dealing with a runaway slave or abandoned child.

  Her worries were put to rest when a very out of breath human man entered her shop and scolded the boy for running so far ahead. They didn’t seem to have a master and slave relationship by the way the boy was clinging to the man’s clothes. The only reasonable assumption left was that they were father and son and that this human was one of the very few who took responsibility after a tryst. They didn’t look alike, but demon genes work in mysterious ways.

  After an appropriate amount of chiding, Norman turned to face the shopkeeper. It was impossible to tell, but he practically jumped out of his skin when he came face to face with the chicken headed woman. He had expected that monster people existed in this world ever since the mention of harpies, but this was a bit much to take in.

  Ever the gentleman, Norman decided to look past the chickeny exterior and gave the woman an acknowledging nod. “Good afternoon. Do you happen to have a change of clothes for me and the boy? We don’t need anything fancy, just something clean.”

  Patricia noticed their abysmal state for the first time and quickly got to work finding clothes for the pair. The man was easy; he was a lot skinnier than most men in Hardwood, but he would fit in most clothes meant for new adventurers. A dark blue tunic and pants would suit him nicely. The boy, however, was trickier. As a Karura, she was used to having to sew wing holes for herself and her daughters. But the problem with that was that she only had little girl’s clothes available for avian children.

  After a bit more rummaging, she found something that could pass for a boy’s clothes. A white tunic with flower embroidery around the neck and sleeves, frilly brown shorts tied with a ribbon, and embroidered sandals. It was clearly a set for a little girl, but it was between that and a frilly green dress that her eldest daughter used to wear.

  While the hunt for clothes happened in the back of the shop, Norman was panicking in the front.