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The foreigner and wagoneer had successfully made way out of the cave, rendezvousing with the recursively parked wagon. Surprisingly…or perhaps not really, nothing had befallen the unsupervised wagon nor the unsupervised equine by which it was dragged.
By the time they had reached the wagon, the sun was high at noon…thus still plenty of time left in their day.
As such, after tossing their filled sacks of glow-crystals onto the wagon’s back…and after a…quick…long break during which the wagoneer had to…eat, drink, and do his…business—the equine, likewise, having its own needs needing to be attended to—they had finally ventured back into that very sunny-cave for one last collection session…and thus to complete this double-quest.
Yet this time, however, the foreigner had decided to diverge somewhat…from the route she had always so seemingly followed since that first time she had stumbled upon a crystalline arachnid nesting ground.
Indeed, it had become rather clear from that prior suspiciously empty nesting ground that these spaces were not always going to have an occupied presence, let alone an active mating session.
Indeed, she had already searched quite a plenty in that direction this day alone, finding more of those same…oddly emptied nesting spaces—she still had not any idea as to what had occurred to those vanishing corpses and residuals, but such was still not her priority in mind.
Regardless, such repetitiveness was only helpful in so far as that it was efficient, convenient, and predicable…and presently, she had no confidence that following that same route would be any of such.
Thus, she had deemed that it was perhaps necessary to diverge and follow a different…new route and see where it may lead…and explore and hunt for new potential grounds.
Yet, this decision had come rather spontaneously, for she had simply noticed an alternative diverging route…and just…paused, snapped, turned, and started following…abruptly, the wagoneer’s legs stumbling in his attempt to redirect and follow along.
Time flowed and passed as the foreigner followed this new path…the cavern around was only becoming…weirder and more convoluted, never mind significantly darker…as glimmering crystals and bioluminescent life—already somewhat rare this deep within—had faded into scarcity.
In fact, the more she evaluated the spaces around as they ventured ever-deeper…the more apparent it became that the cavern itself was changing; it was...different somehow…in a way that was hard to really explain. The bioluminescent life that remained present…were dimmer and in fact…were…fundamentally alien from what she had been accustomed to seeing so far.
Indeed…it was almost as if they were stumbling into an entirely different cavern, though such was hard to tell from vision alone…since…truly, it had become so very…very…dark, far more so than ever prior.
“Gods’ sacred toilet…I can’t see anything at all!” so remarked with rather the voice…the wagoneer trailing so very close behind; “truthly, you’ve got some eyes on you alright, I still don’t get how you can see in this…darkness…at all, let alone while wearing a fancy tinted drama-mask like that” he remarked further, having become fairly reliant on the foreigner in order tell where…he even was at all.
The foreigner sighed, almost tsking somewhat for he was…indeed…rather loud; “Keep your voice low, I ask. And also, I cannot see either, in truth; my sight is worse than yours right now” she replied rather sternly but…also cordially.
“…so you’ve been…wandering blind the past two hours? Great…you really are a little menace” the wagoneer remarked in reply.
“I can tell where I am heading; the eyes may be useless, but the ears are not; I follow the hopping sounds” the foreigner replied somewhat frankly.
“You’re hearing your way…through this? Huh…actually…I guess…that explains a whole lot…but I thought only those blinded folks had the best ears? And last I checked, your eyes can see” he asked and remarked.
“…” the foreigner was slow to respond, for it was…rather the odd quirk of hers, most indeed.
Her mind…or her brain rather…was quite the plastic and adaptive thing. The human brain, in general, was already with rather the plasticity. However, hers…was significantly more so than most average denizens and locals; indeed, hyper-plasticity, hyper-adaptivity.
With just some degree of direct higher order cognitive effort while in presence of sufficient influences and inputs from the immediate environment, her brain could readapt and reprioritize its sensory processing, and rather quickly at that. However, such usually…came at the expense of the neglected senses.
Certainly, as her hearing sharpened and as her skin and nerves became ever-more sensitive…her vision only became proportionately hazier and blurrier, despite her eyes themselves being more than perfectly fine. Space once allocated for visual processing…was being repurposed for auditory and other sensory processing tasks; thus, her brain was no longer processing visual stimuli as efficiently and productively as the others.
Though, such apparent consequences hardly mattered presently given that it was so very dark anyway. Worst come to worst, if the situation demanded it, she could always just close her eyes and start clicking her tongue or snapping her fingers…to ‘see with her ears’, so to speak.
The foreigner exhaled a faint ughing breath; “For one, I am not that ‘little’, I am perfectly average for the Far Western lady, and for two…well…we are both the blind right now, no? Because of such…my hearing is becoming better…it is what you may call a ‘skill’ of me” she finally replied after seconds of silent pause.
“Hmm…” the wagoneer mumbled out; “yeah, that sounds about right…adventurers are always wonky like that, aren’t they?” he remarked.
“Yes.” the foreigner replied rather bluntly; “Now…I ask, for grace, be quiet…I need to focus” she respectfully asked.
The wagoneer promptly ahemed into silence, being sure to stay…as close as he could so that he ensured he did not end up lost by accident…again, minded.
The foreigner concentrated more and more on her hearing…so much so that it felt as though such was all she could even perceive at all…everything else went numb and mute as she took in all the bouncing sounds and whispering echoes both near and afar.
She could hear…so many sounds…emanating from so many things and places, yet she could not hear…any arachnids at all. Usually, even when they were fairly at a distance away…their bouncing noises…could still be picked up; yet, ever since she diverted course down this strange way…their bouncing echoes…had disappeared entirely.
Yet, nevertheless, she continued to persist down this path, hoping that…it would eventually bear some sort of victory and fruit…despite perhaps knowing deep down within…that she was simply following the wrong path.
In fact…thinking back on it…she did recall that there was a…kind of symbol of sorts…engraved onto side of the entry-point leading into this route. At that time, she had paid no mind to it at all, but now…in retrospect…it could have perhaps been an indicator of a diverging environment, a marker perhaps indicating…a completely different zone entirely…or perhaps even a warning.
The foreigner sighed before finally, and abruptly, halting in place, the wagoneer simply bumping right into her.
“Hey ouch! Watch it! Careful! I mean…ahem” he blurted out immediately.
“I give apologies” the foreigner began to say, “I suppose that I did not know where I was going…there are no spiders this way…I cannot hear them anywhere…it is barren; it was the mistake to follow this way, we must head back” she stated…lamenting regret in her voice…yet…whether such apparent affect was donned or sincere was hard to tell…even for her.
Before the wagoneer could respond, she immediately bumped right passed him as she began to make way down the opposite direction…with rather the haste.
The wagoneer, however, remained in place…still rather paused by this suddenty; “W-w-wait wait now! Hold on now!” he finally began to say in shout, quickly catching up; “…we’ve been walking down this way for…I don’t even know how long! You absolutely sure there’s nothing down this way at all?” he interrogated; “I mean…we can keep searching a bit longer, you know? It’d be wasted time to call it quits” he added.
“Yes. I am certain…or maybe…it is better to say that it is very…likely to be so” the foreigner replied; “and…it is best that we return back, for there is the risk that we can become lost” she added.
“Yeah that’s true ain—” so began to respond the wagoneer, yet suddenly…once again…the foreigner abruptly halted and froze in place, causing him to yet again bump right into her even more so…yet her stance remained firm.
“Youch! Wh-what now?! You gotta warn me before you stop like that!” he interrogated and protested, having nearly tumbled over her due to her sudden freezing pause, albeit she remained firmly in place.
Yet, the foreigner simply shushed; “Quiet” she commanded rather coldly. Her hyper-sensitive ears fixated…on these bouncing sounds…she was so suddenly picking up on…or rather…so suddenly realizing that they had been present this entire time…echoing like a wave…in the lingering background from afar.
She remained stunned and frozen, analyzing as she processed and deduced…eroded instincts kicking in well before she even became consciously aware of…what these sounds…even were.
Noises…she was hearing…noises…deeper…so much deeper in this cavern…she knew those noises…she hated those noises…denizens…cries…pleas…shouts…desperation…someone…no many someones…were fighting…something…large…colossal…dangerous…an open space…she could tell…to the left…right…right…left…right…forward…they were…struggling…no…beyond struggling…it was worse…she could tell…both her mind and essence could tell…they were going to die…and they knew it.
Local affairs were local affairs. Regulation protocols were strictly clear: she was to refrain from intervening in said local affairs…even if it meant permitting the locals to die from their own abstracted squabbles and or local environment and natural ecosystem. Yet…such regulations and protocols…she and those like her had violated more times than she ever cared to admit…and…besides…right now she was supposed to be…one of them, even if a mocking parrot.
Yet…all of such affairs aside…ultimately, all those many ancients ago…she and those like her had sworn a certain pledge…one which…had long been twisted…and eroded…in far too many ways…than she ever cared to comprehend. A certain pledge that was…truly hard…to escape from, even if the point had been lost eons ago…even if it had all been reduced meaningless nothing.
Indeed, truly…this required no thinking at all, no real justifications; truly, once noticed it was impossible to ignore…those unmistakable noises which her ears so truly…despised.
It was as if a switch had so suddenly flipped in her mind and essence, as once again that strange all-encompassing cold and numbing calm engulfed her being in totality…as everything she needed to do…as everything that needed to be done…became so very clear and easy to do.
Yet, this time…it was a slightly…different kind of cold inhibiting calm. Her priorities had shifted as eroded protocols and decayed purposes enacted their will, ancient prerogatives overriding present directives, mandates, and regulations.
Without any delay, she so suddenly, rapidly, and swiftly began to make way…in a lancing cyanic wisp-dashing stride.
“Gods’ sacred! Where you going?!” the wagoneer shouted as he immediately attempted to follow and keep up with wisp-lancing foreigner; “SLOW DOWN! WHAT’S GOING ON?!” he shouted further as his panting voice echoed.
The foreigner slowed herself down…to a point; “Big fight. Bad one. Dying and with need for helping, no time to explain details” her echoing voice replied; “follow, stay, or go back, it does not matter” she added rather bluntly before recontinuing onwards without either pause or delay.
The panting wagoneer slowed down…unable to keep up with the foreigner. He stared…as he caught his breath…staring down the way through which she had just charged.
He sighed…“Oh Gods’ sacred…truly, a little menace you are…a weird one at that…skill or magic? I can’t tell…” he remarked to himself with slight panting breaths, noticing the…rather faint yet sparkly cyanic peculiarities trailing behind her lancing strides.
He tossed his empty sack onto his shoulders and prepared his strapped firearm, his response needing not be said; for as much as she could not leave those strangers behind knowing they were dying…he could not leave her behind knowing that she was charging into potential trouble.
He began to follow along…at his own quick pace; thankfully…that otherwise faint and obscure glittery wisp-dusty cyanic trail left behind…was somewhat easy to see and follow along in such darkness…though it was quickly withering.
Ah, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened
You bunch have truly not changed at all
Still fundamentally those same condemned souls as our time of old
Still motivated deep down within by that one all-consuming goal
One long lost to time’s everlasting decay
Yet, nevertheless, one to which you all so still instinctually respond at any moment
Without hesitation or any concern
Truly, how so very enduring indeed
But in the end, it won you nothing besides endless regret
