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FINAL CORE - Additional Content
🕑 Added 2023-04-12 10:09:15 +0000 UTCAdded some new scenes for the forgotten uthra, Mauve, who was first introduced in chapter... 57, I think?
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Chapter 97
Mauve sits on the wooden veranda of the little shack, water running down the brim of her straw hat as she leans back, watching the fields. Her feet are kicked up on the old overturned barrel, inside of which a cat has made its home. She lets it be because it’s cute and she likes cats.
The stalk of wheat travels across her lips as she sits there with folded hands.
“Mauve,” comes a voice from the side, breaking the silence.
Mauve lifts her hand, gesturing for Red to wait as she lands, probably here to ask about the harvest again.
Red blinks, looking at her and then at the fields. Not seeing anything, she turns her head back and gets to the point. “I’m here to see -”
“Shh,” says Mauve, shushing her.
Red plants her hands on her hips. “You did not just shush me, Mauve,” she starts, taking a sharper tone.
“Quiet,” says Mauve in a hushed voice, waving Red off with a flick of her fingers. “They’re here…” she explains, lifting her feet off of the barrel and slowly rising to her feet.
Red drops her head and shakes it. “Mauve. Who’s here?” The uthra lifts her arms. “You better not be talking about those damned varmints again. They’re not real, numbskull.” Mauve walks past her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stares out into the fields, staring intently. “...Really?”
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Chapter 108
“Magical farming is a dirty business, I reckon,” explains Mauve, the uthra, sitting back on a creaky chair with her muddy feet kicked up over an overturned, empty barrel. “Not somethin’ for you tower-folk,” she says. “With all your fancy stonework and showers.”
Red stands there. “…Mauve. You’re not a farmer,” replies the uthra dryly. “You’re barely sentient.”
Mauve lifts the brim of her straw-hat, staring at Red. After a moment, she pulls the spit back into her throat and hucks it off to the side. “Big words for a city-girl standing in my fields,” replies Mauve.
Red sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Mauve,” she starts. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too into this act?” she asks, before thinking for a moment. Red lifts her hands. “Actually, you know what? Forget it. I don’t care,” says the lead uthra. “I’m just here because Isaiah wants to know if everything is going well with the crops,” she explains again. “Monsters in the tower need to eat,” she says. “Ideally, produce, apparently.” Red shrugs. “Seems like a waste when there are so many humans around to feed them with, but here we are.”
Mauve adjusts the brim of her hat, chewing on a long stalk of wheat in her mouth. “Told you. Farming is dirty business.”
Red looks at her, annoyed. “What does that mean, Mauve?”
“Varmints,” replies Mauve, dryly.
“...What?”
The farmer-uthra nods. “There are varmints in them there fields, I reckon,” she explains. “Eating all my crops.”
Red stares at her and then turns her head, looking at the perfectly sterile, quiet, and calm fields in which not a single varmint, monster, or any other problem is to be seen. After a moment, she looks back at Mauve, shaking her head and holding her hands out in quiet exasperation.
“There isn’t anything there, Mauve.”
Mauve narrows her eyes, her hands folded over her stomach as her thumbs twiddle. “You city folk don’t got a clue,” says the uthra. “There’re varmints in that dirt. I'm telling ya.”
“Whatever,” replies Red, waving her off and rolling her eyes. “This is your problem. I’m telling Isaiah everything is fine.”
“If you reckon.”
Mauve sits there, the chair creaking beneath her as she stares at the fields, the winds blowing over the crops. This is fun. She likes being a farmer.
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Chapter 119
“Harvest’s troubled, I reckon,” says the farmer uthra Mauve in her rural accent, the straw of wheat in her mouth traveling to the other side of her lips as she looks over the field. “Dirt’s too wet.”
“Then make it less wet, numbskull,” replies Red, looking at her.
Mauve looks at her and then turns her head up toward the sky, from which rain is pouring down from. “Gonna be difficult, I reckon.”
Red groans, rolling her eyes. “Mauve. Can you please stop saying ‘reckon’?” asks Red incredulously. “You’re not from the human countryside. You’re a spirit!” she snaps.
“I reckon,” replies Mauve, spitting on the ground at her side and pulling on the suspenders she’s wearing.
Red shakes her head. “Look. Are you going to manage the job, or do we need to find a different person to run the farm?”
Mauve looks at her, chewing on the end of the wheat stalk for a time. “Reckon you won’t find anyone who can deal with the varmints.”
“Mauve.” Red gestures out to the flooded fields, overflowing with run-off water from the storm. “There aren’t any ‘varmints’, and even if there were, they’d be drowned by now!” she snaps.
Mauve walks on ahead a few steps, bending down and scooping up a handful of mud and holding it up to Red. “You city-folk. What do you think this is?”
“It’s mud, Mauve,” replies Red, dryly. She lifts her boot sideways, gesturing to it and all of the mud dripping off of its soles. “Everything is muddy.”
Mauve drops everything back down, rising to her feet and wiping her dirty hand off on her clothes. “They’re sign,” explains the uthra. “Varmint droppings.”
“What?” Red holds her arms out to her sides, her soaked through robe draping down heavily. “It’s mud, Mauve. Isaiah give me strength.” The lead uthra sighs, rubbing her wet face in exasperation. “Look. Are you going to manage to save the harvest or not?” She lifts her gaze. “And don’t say -”
Mauve looks out over the fields. “- I reckon,” replies Mauve, cutting her off.
Red lets out a prolonged, deep scream as she flies off into the air to get away.
Mauve watches her fly off, standing there in the rain and chewing on the wheat stalk in her mouth. “City girl,” mutters the uthra, shaking her head before looking back at the fields, narrowing her eyes as she watches the loose, wet soil shift as something – many somethings – move just beneath its surface.
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Chapter 129
The farmer stands there in silence as water drips around them.
Suddenly, a heavy snapping sound comes from the distance as metal hits metal.
“GOTTEM!” says Mauve, shooting up into the air. After a confused moment, Red flies after her, the two of them shooting over the field toward the trap she had set in the middle of it.
The uthra hover over a metal cage, sitting in the middle of the field and covered over with dry stalks of wheat and branches.
“Told you,” says Mauve, as the two of them look down at the shaking cage below.
“...Huh…” mutters Red, as they fly down lower to look. Their boots press into the mud, the wet soil squelching as they walk toward the cage that has slammed itself shut. The heavy container rattles as something inside it squeaks and hisses, fighting against the bars in an animal attempt to escape.
Mauve grabs the branches, pulling them away to look at their prey, the varmint.
– Hands reach out through the bars, swiping at them as a contorted, screaming face shouts their way in terror.
Red sighs. “…Orange. What the hell are you doing?” she asks, looking at the orange uthra who is trapped in the cage, surrounded by carrots and pumpkins, many of which are half-chewed on. “Settle down.”
“RED!” yells Orange, grabbing the bars of the cage. “I’m innocent! Don’t lock me up!”
Red stands there, her hands on her hips. She turns her head, looking at Mauve. “You know what?” asks the lead uthra. “This is all a waste of my time,” she says. “This farm, thing? This is your problem alone from now on.” Red shakes her head and flies into the air, not looking back a second time.
Mauve stands there, her hands resting under her suspenders, as she looks at Orange in the cage.
“Kin, we got a problem – you and I,” says Mauve. “I reckon,” she says, looking at the uthra’s trembling lips covered in crumbs of orange vegetables.
Orange shakes her head, pressing her face between the bars. “Wait!” she pleads. “Don’t eat me!” cries the uthra. "I just wanted to eat something that wasn't covered in butter!" she cries.
