Liv goes to fetch another bowl, and I watch every step she takes; it’s hard not to. Liv cuts an imposing figure. Inside our thriving little soup kitchen is too packed to eat, so we’re out back, sitting on the edge of the building's flagstone base. The jagged stone juts out just enough to make a seat of them.

Even among the patrons she’s about to join, Liv will stand out. Lumber workers make up a sizable amount of the folk that come through seeking a free meal. It makes sense; the added Mana regeneration is probably a huge boon for their work. Those lumber workers come in many intimidating sizes: green and orcish, giant-blooded-looking sort of demi-humans with gray skin and hairless heads, and other naturally suited folk with the muscle to spend their day chopping trees or carrying logs. Regardless, each of them standing beside Liv doesn’t hold a candle to her physique. Her figure is cut like a Greek warrior goddess, and she stands so tall that you can’t possibly lose her in a crowd.

“You like her right?” asks Deirdre suddenly, from where she sits next to me.

Caught. I wince.

“What? No I…” I respond while blushing. I can’t help but be honest. “I was just looking,” I admit. Lying to Deirdre would be so wrong; lying in general is not the sort of thing I’d ever want to do to anyone close to me. It’s embarrassing to have your girlfriend catch you looking at another woman, but it’s Liv. Anyone with eyes can see that Liv is stunning.

“You should talk to her about it.”

Talk to Liv about how good she looks? 

Deirdre’s comment is as confusing as it is subtle. Something I said or did may have upset her, and this is Deirdre reading me the riot act. That’s fair; if I saw Deirdre checking out other women, I might have opinions about it.

“Why would I do that?”

“Tell her how much you like her, Evelyn, you should.”

What the hell? Is Deirdre mad at me?

Deirdre’s tone is flat, and as always, she wears a stoic, expressionless mask. Given the context, this must be how she brings up her disapproval to someone close to her. We are girlfriends now, after all.

Liking Liv isn’t even a consideration. I wouldn’t ever allow something like that to happen. Liv is someone close to me who is super attractive, but just because I like women Deirdre must know that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw myself at any woman I can.

“Deirdre there's nothing going on between us, I swear. If it’s the flirting she does, it’s not at me; she’s just like that; she does it with you too,” I reply honestly.

Liv really is an equal-opportunity flirt. Sure, one could argue she’s directed some saucy words and looks my way, but mostly it is just to tease me about secretly sleeping with Deirdre. Besides, Liv has made insinuating comments about Deirdre too; it’s just normal talk, nothing serious. We should have never all gone out drinking together. Now it looks like it is all coming back up to throw a wrench in Deirdre and I’s relationship.

“Oh come now Evelyn. I’m not blind; I’ve seen you checking her out.”

“It’s not like that, Deirdre, really.”

Whatever Deirdre thinks is going on, she’s clearly mistaken. If I had a second to settle my rapidly panicking body, I could explain that to her. There is literally nothing going on between Liv and me. Instead, I can feel heat pricking on the back of my neck, like I've been caught doing something I’m not supposed to, and I’m about to be in trouble for it.

“Sure it isn’t,” says Deirdre with a sigh. “I know she’ll say yes, so spend the night with her.”

She says it so casually, like it doesn’t bother her, except that clearly it must if she is talking about it.

“What!? Deirdre I wouldn’t.”

How did it all go so wrong? Where is any of this coming from? My heart hammers. Deirdre and I just started to make everything work, and now I messed something up so monumentally? She could be really mad, or only just a little mad. At this point, I just don’t know her well enough to tell the difference.

“Evelyn don’t be an idiot, she likes you back you know; she’s always got her eye on you.”

With as much determination as I can muster, I reply, “I don’t want anything with her, Deirdre; I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?"

She’s so calm, barely even showing a single emotion; she looks more like she’s reacting to my spirling emotions than having any of her own.

“Because I’m with you,” I plead.

“So?” she asks, her tone full of incredulity.

“What do you mean ‘so’ ?” I ask, my voice climbing in volume.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Deirdre is clearly driving at something but isn’t coming right out and saying it.

“I mean, what's the harm in spending a night with her if she wants to also?" she replies.

With every word, I’m thrown farther and further for a loop. I have no idea what she expects me to say, no idea what she wants me to say, and no idea what I’ve done to make her think I don’t want to be with her.

“Deirdre, are you joking? Are you mad at me? I don’t understand; I would never try to sleep with Liv; I would never betray you like that.”

I mean what I say earnestly. I care about Deirdre, and at no point would I consider cheating on her.

“What? Betray me. What are you talking about, Evelyn? You’re the one that's been telling me this sort of thing is okay; this is specifically what you’ve said not to worry about. Frankly, you’re right about that, and yes, this is new to me, but I can see the appeal of not giving a damn about social expectations and living freely. I’m glad we live in a world like that now.”

The halfling’s explanation isn’t just confusing; it’s clearly some kind of doublespeak. Any sort of deeper meaning goes right over my head. My brain at the moment only picks up on Deirdre coming close to equating liking women with cheating.

I reply instantly, “Being gay isn’t the same as sleeping around.”

“Sleeping around? You mean like- No, Evelyn, I’m not calling you a loose woman; I would never.” Deirdre looks taken aback, if only for a moment, before continuing. “I’m only saying there’s nothing wrong with sleeping with Liv; I don’t mind. I think you two look good together, so if you both want to, what's the problem?”

“Wha- Becaus-”

Why does she sound so calm?

My mouth disconnects from whatever stray words are trying to get out. Madness descends around all of my rational ability to reply like a dark cloud. From the sound of it, Deirdre might not be mad at me. She may literally actually be saying the things she means. In seriousness, without it being a problem, because she thinks it would genuinely be a good thing for some reason. 

What Deirdre is suggesting, of course, is nonsense. Clearly, there is some sort of disconnect going on, and we’re not hearing each other.

Because if Deirdre is serious, what she is talking about is some kind of semi-open relationship. Heck, even more than that. All three of us are party mates; we spend all day together. If Liv and I ever did anything like that, it would form a complex web of relationships between the three of us. It would basically make us polyamorous, probably, maybe, or however that works.

“Deirdre that- that would be a whole different thing. Do you even know what you’re suggesting?” I ask, stumbling over my words.

Deirdre’s reactions are always pretty subtle, but her telltale signs reveal a bit of quizzical expression etched on her brow.

“Is sex more complicated in the future or something? Does being keen on a girl mean you can’t sleep with another one too? I just figured if nobody much minded women loving other women, this sort of thing wouldn’t be a big deal either.”

Not a big deal? Is this how Deirdre felt when I told her being gay was normal as fuck in my time? Is not caring about multiple partners a Deirdre thing or a gay women from the past thing?

I stumble, trying to form a response. By the sounds of it, I don’t have to worry about Deirdre actually being mad at me for having admired Liv’s physical qualities; instead, I need to quickly navigate whatever is going on by her admitting her propensity for wanting me to do something about that admiration.

“No it's just, well yes but… I mean not really, but it's certainly not as common.”

In the queer spaces that I’d dipped my toes into back before throwing my life at work, I certainly ran into a lot of people in non-monogamous relationships, but I’d never had one myself. Maybe Deirdre is right; maybe I’m limiting my thinking for no reason. I should give her as honest an answer as I can, but in truth, I just haven't thought about the subject.

Objective of anything to do with Liv, I have to consider if being with two women would sit alright with me. Also, I’d have to know if a woman dating another woman alongside me would bother me. A part of me wants to say I might get jealous of something like that, but it's a gut response. I’m supposed to be jealous. Two people are supposed to have each other and nobody else.

Would someone from my future think it’s silly of me to not consider something like this? They just might; how am I supposed to know?

“I’ll need to, uh, think about that. I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with that sort of relationship. Not that I’m against it; I knew a few people with relationships like that. I just, I guess I never considered that an option. It feels wrong. Again, not because I think it’s wrong or anything; I just- that was sort of the way of things for me. Certainly wasn’t something you could do legally in my time; get married to two people, I mean.”

Deirdre nearly laughs, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but not breaking out in full.

“Well that sounds arbitrary. You can marry a woman in the future, but not two women? That doesn’t make any sense.” Deirdre takes a moment to sigh, then faces me again with a serious expression. “But you should think about it Evelyn.”

Her asking me my opinion on this is startling, and I certainly don’t have an answer right now. She must have thoughts if she’s saying all these things to me.

“Have you thought about it?”

I don’t know if I want her to say yes or no. I don’t know if it matters. On the list of every possible thing that could have happened today, this subject was not on it.

“Yeah, I don’t see the big deal. I think it would be pretty cool.”

Cool, she says. Deirdre thinks having two girlfriends would be cool.

The crunch of gravel on dirt heralds the return of Liv, rounding the corner with her mission a success, a soup bowl in hand. Her glance jumps between us, probably concerned by me. I imagine I’m not exactly cool and collected looking on the outside. Liv cracks a smile, genuine and full of cheer.

“What’d I miss?”

***

 

“Absolutely not,” states Deirdre emphatically.

“Come on Deirdre, the more the merrier,” I reply.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring so many people into this so quickly,” she states.

“Deirdre’s right, it could make things too messy,” adds Liv, with a hint of a grimace.

“Even with Liv’s strength, the three of us just don’t have enough hands,” I explain, knowing the three of us alone won’t be enough.

“And you want to invite non-hunters too? Just great,” Deirdre says questioningly.

“Unless you’ve been hiding something and not telling us, I certainly won’t know what to do. It’s all just wood to me,” I chide.

We weren’t any closer to coming to an agreement to get the latest part of my plan off the ground. Increasing expenses means we need to bring in more funds. As it stands, we’re already working ourselves to the bone and doing all we can. We have to work smarter, not harder. The soup kitchen, our sanity, and, with any luck, a better Waldonton, depend on it.

In the short term, we could travel and sell some of the accumulated Monster parts we all have stashed away. That would only help for so long. So it’s back to the drawing board. Fortunately for us, my drawing board, at least the one inside my head, has a bunch of ideas ready and waiting to go.

“This is perilously close to starting a guild,” Liv says, and her tone makes it clear that starting a guild is not something she has any interest in. Guilds do sound like a major endeavor, and that's absolutely not what I’m thinking right now—more like, a hunter co-op.

I spilled the beans on a couple of the endeavors I’ve been dreaming up. Namely, building an outpost by the northwest forest’s edge and working out a scheme to invite people to guard it for a split of the profits and to haul back fully intact monsters again for a split of the profits.

It makes sense. Your average hunter leaves behind a Monster corpse with a lot of usable meat. For a solo hunter or a small team, it’s simply impossible to carry everything.

So close to a town, we can optimize the process. Leaving Monster corpses to rot is crazy. Even if an increase in meat drives down the value of it, it’s better for the people to have access to cheap meat. Besides, so much of the meat collected gets smoked, or salted, or pickled, or whatever, and traded along to nearby cities. It’s literally impossible for Waldonton to feasibly bring in so much meat it has a negative effect on the town.

There are only so many people in town who like living here and who also like roaming around killing monsters. Among the number of people able and willing to spill Monster blood, a far greater number of people would prefer a cushy gig, like patrolling around the lumber mills and culling the areas around them.

Manning a watch tower or escorting corpse haulers sounds like a cushy gig we could sell to those types.

Deirdre, after consideration, agrees that it is a good idea. An outpost near the forest’s edge will mean fewer Monsters get through, which means a smaller chance they get close to town. With fewer monsters having a chance to get in range of town, it's less likely that the insufficient number of guardposts will lead to a tragic accident.

The only sticky point is the logistics of the building of the thing, who gets to use it, and how hauling back the monsters will work.

A truly monumental task, like cutting a dirt road through the valleys and ridges to the forest's edge, would be impossible. Impossible for us at least. If, for example, the town’s council wanted to do it, they could probably afford it. Then things like wagons or carts come into play, and the meat train would really be firing on cylinders.

That, however, is not going to happen. So what we need are sturdy folk willing to carry something heavy for an hour. Also, they have to be okay with the potential danger of being attacked by a magically mutated animal with no fear of death fuelled by the singular focus of wanting to suck the marrow from their bones.

Hunting is a profession with job security at least; you have to be a special kind of crazy to seek out this world’s boogeyman. Lately, I question the sense in my decision to tackle this job, especially since after all the training with Deirdre and Liv, I can still barely swing a staff around.

As part of a party, I have no reservations. I can see myself being willing to push as hard as needed to be useful. On my own, I just don’t have what it takes. Even a newly-made Monster would probably kill me. Despite that, hunting was it, my newfound purpose. Dealing with Monsters feels like a worthy calling to have, and dealing with them in person, not just from behind a desk.

No desks, not again, never again.

Liv and even Deirdre, as of late, have been playing up just how useful someone on the sidelines can be in a party. It’s hard to believe it sometimes, but they make a few points. In the middle of a fight, it’s hard for combatants to see the whole picture, and it’s even harder for them to coordinate with party mates. Both of my partymates have assured me again and again that my Spells are actually really helpful.

In a way, it makes sense. When I cast Empower, besides the Spell effect itself, it’s always because someone is going on the attack, usually Deirdre. Liv, from what she’s said, uses that information to her advantage. Since I’m able to cast my Spells on the entire party at the same time, everyone gets that information instantly. Magically transmitted instant information has its uses. That usefulness is on top of the typical helpfulness of having someone just yell out the things they see from safety.

For the smaller, newly made Monsters, great coordination hardly matters. Either Liv or Deirdre could handle them by themselves if they needed to. Any monster older than that so far has been a much tougher nut to crack—an order of magnitude harder.

We’ve killed maybe three Monsters so far that count as the next size category up. Honestly, if Liv or Deirdre faced off against them on their own, they might die. I would surely die, no question. My companions would have a hell of a fight, sure, but if they were low on Mana, or the Monster got a lucky hit, they could easily get taken down.

Monsters are simply too deadly for an average person. They’re faster, they’re stronger, and they are too crazy to worry too hard about getting wounded.

If a medium-sized Monster got inside Waldonton, it would be a slaughter. No doubt anyone who had the ability to fight would rush to help, but it would tear through the average townie like wet paper.

On Earth, guns are a great equalizer. Nobody fears that a bear or a lion will decimate a town because any one person with a gun could take those animals down, not to mention that those animals have sensible desires, like food or protecting their territory.

A Monster has no desire besides killing.

Pole in hand, monster slung underneath it, Deirdre, Liv, and I continue our march back to town.

“For starters we need to get something built. And the three of us can’t do that. So we’re just going to have to hire some help.”

Deirdre grumbling is made in a way that signals defeat. “You’re not wrong; I just don’t like it.”

Liv sounds thoughtful, like she’s doing her best to think through the implications. “Could take a while to find someone to do the work, even under guard.”

“You’re right, but we can ask around and put up poster-”

A help-wanted poster, that's it, but not just any help-wanted poster.

Back on Earth, in every consulting job I ever had, I had to make do with the metrics the company was operating under. You can’t just wish for a better circumstance; you have to evaluate where to best aim your focus to make the most possible improvements.

Waldonton’s Ye Olden LinkedIn job boards work because lots of people pass by them. Our party already has a heavily trafficked business, which means…

 

***

 

“It’s perfect.”

We really outdid ourselves. Liv ended up writing the help-wanted poster. Deirdre’s writing was delicate and beautiful but neigh unreliable cursive, and my writing looks like I started typing in elementary school and never touched a pen again, which is nearly true. Liv's ability is a healthy middle ground.

Now every single person waiting in line for food at the soup kitchen would spy the poster. With any luck, that would give us a lead on some carpenters that could whip up a freestanding guard tower using only some nearby cutdown trees and the tools they could haul on their backs.

Not until a few days later is there more than a polite inquiry left with Isabella or Renata. The note is promising in a way. Not only do they claim it is possible to take on such a project, but they would also like to meet and formally discuss it. The note was delivered by an errand runner but signed by one Charles Menlo, council member and operator of the Waldonton Woodworks.