“They’re roses,” Ivy whispered, brushing a petal from her locks. “I’m sorry. I asked the void not to, but they kept growing.”
Another “rose” bloomed next to her foot. Ivy nudged it away gently, wincing. Then she pointed at the root-deer draped over his shoulder. He expected her to gasp at its skull-face, but she just smiled.
“Its face is like yours,” she said, strangely charmed. “And the antlers.”
Vale lifted the dead creature’s head. The skull and antlers did indeed match his. They had not when he was first given the wilderness void. But they changed, as did so many things in this void. When he arrived, the root-deer was all roots, and there was no skull to speak of. Then he was given this void, and both he and the animals’ forms began to shift to match each other.
“I can prepare it,” Ivy continued. “If you’d like.”
Vale huffed. “I do not need to prepare it.”
“Oh,” Ivy said, her eyes widening as she glanced down at his fangs. “That—that makes sense. I can prepare it for myself, then. I won’t be a bother.”
“We will see,” Vale said, perhaps unfairly. He was unusually fatigued after his hunt. He hoped that it was due to how long he had gone without a meal, and not because of the weakening void. Surely it was too early for him to feel those effects.
He hoisted the root-deer further up his shoulder and started into the forest.
“Come,” he said again. “You will need a fire.”
Ivy scrambled after him. Her footfall was strange. When he turned to check on her, she was stepping over suddenly blooming roses, whispering apologies whenever she accidentally trod on them.
The roses thankfully stopped by the time they found a spot clear enough for a fire. Vale ripped into his half of the root-deer, still disdainful of the mortal’s need to cook meat before devouring it. Not to mention Ivy’s clear bafflement with the deer he had presented her.
Vale sat up, wiping his bloody mouth with his robe. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ivy said hurriedly. She tied the torn deer leg to the stick, then held it over the fire. The meat crisped, the edges turning black in a way that seemed to shock her.
“It’s nothing,” Ivy said again when she caught him looking. “It’s just… is this evenmeat?”
“Of course, it is meat,” said Vale. “What else would it be?”
Ivy’s nose wrinkled. She poked at the root-deer leg, which dripped bright blood into the fire, throwing sparks. “Um. A…plant? The texturefeelslike fruit, almost. And it looks like fruit. But when I cut into it, it bleeds. And it has bones!”
“Yes. Because it is meat.” Vale ripped another hunk of root-deer off its haunches, only chewing twice before swallowing. “Does this displease you?”
“No,” Ivy assured him. “I’m sure it will taste wonderful. Itsmellsreally nice.”
She leaned in, sniffing hopefully. Then she pulled the root-deer leg out of the fire and took a small nibble.
Vale waited. “Well?”
“It’s nice!” Ivy smiled at him, looking absurdly pleased by the fact. “Thank you.”
“You do not have to thank me,” Vale said grumpily. “I live to serve. I just never expected to serve myassistant.”
He wiped his bloody claws on the grass, annoyed. He felt full, but no less tired. A worrying sign.
“You will learn how to live in this void,” Vale said. “I will not have to assist you after that. We have too much work to do.”
Ivy nodded wildly and bit another tiny chunk out of her deer leg. She was watching him curiously, though she tried to hide it.
Vale growled. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ivy insisted. “Just… are you okay? You look different.”
Tired, Vale thought.She means I look tired.
Luckily, he had been tired for centuries. He knew how to weather it.
