36. Vesper
VESPER
“This is why I hate kids,” Locke growls, rushing over to my side. “What the fuck is that? What does a big one look like?”
We don’t have long to wait for an answer.
The small ones are less than a meter tall, their tiny bodies toddler-like and petite. They have large round heads, big black eyes, and they’re chubby. The big one isn’t anything like that.
“What trick of nature is this?” Svetlana asks as the parent comes into view.
It’s massive, at least three meters tall where it towers above us.
Where the baby is all rounded and cute, this one is anything but.
It’s white, too, and its head is slightly rounded, but that’s where the similarities end.
This one is all hulking, icy muscles, its large arms thick and covered in icicle spikes at the shoulders and elbows.
It’s hunched forward, as if its arms weigh too much to stand upright.
It takes a step, and the ground shakes again.
Ice and snow. It’s made of nothing but ice and snow.
The two babies shriek with happiness and rush forward, launching themselves at their mother. Or is it a father? I can’t tell. There’s a distinct lack of genitalia on the creature. Its face pulls into a sharp toothed grimace as the babies climb onto its back and hold on.
I hold up my hands. “We weren’t going to hurt them,” I try. “We were just playing.”
The parent roars and slams its fist into the ground, clearly a threat. Locke and I steady ourselves against each other to keep from falling. A frozen apple falls from the tree beside me and my fingers itch to pick it up.
The babies start to taunt us, sticking out their tongues as if we were ever a threat to them. The little bastards giggle and pat their parent on the head, pointing at us as the targets.
Though the babies hadn’t spoken a word to us during the snowball fight, the words that come out of the baby’s mouth now are loud and clear.
“Get ’em.”
I’ve survived many things in my life. The starvation month Dross suffered when the Luxe guards missed their supply shipment during the Harrow Gates opening, a broken arm when I fell from too high of a building, the terrible sex I’ve had throughout my life, gangs trying to kill me, Dox trying to tickle me to death, the Harrow Gate, and now this place.
But staring into the dark void of this creature’s eyes makes me think that I haven’t survived anything yet.
“Watch out!” Locke growls, shoving me away from him as the creature launches at us.
We dive in separate directions, both trying to avoid the massive swinging fists of the creature as we crawl through the snow.
It whirls toward Locke first, roaring and trying to crush him with its massive club-like fists.
Locke rolls out of the way and then slams his hammer into the creature’s arm.
It cracks off and falls to the ground before disintegrating into snow.
“Fuck yeah!” Locke shouts. “That wasn’t so ha—”
The creature looks at its stump where an arm used to be and roars. Blue speckles start dancing at the end of the stump, and then slowly, a new arm starts to reform.
“Fuck,” Locke groans, rushing away. “It can rebuild itself? How is that fair?”
“Somehow, I don’t think fair is what this place is going for,” I answer.
The creature turns at the sound of my voice and roars at me. The babies stand on the ice spikes on its back and do their own little impersonations of a roar. It pisses me off that it’s still cute. Because now I’m going to feel bad when I have to kill it.
Or maybe . . . we don’t have to kill it at all.
“Svetlana,” I hiss as I rush away from the advancing creature.
“Yes?” she answers, still tucked in out of the cold.
“Can you hold a stick?”
“Can I hold a stick?” she repeats, poking her head out. “What kind of a question is that? Of course, I can hold a stick. Look at me.”
I pull one of the sticks and strip of fabric from my inventory. I wrap it around the end of the stick as I run, trying not to trip in the shin-deep snow. “What is the opposite of ice?”
“Fire,” Svetlana answers immediately.
“Exactly,” I hum, pulling out the small bottle of liquor I’d stolen from one of the other players on board the Titanic while he’d been passed out drunk. No one had been the wiser and after I’d smelled it in my room later, I knew I’d never drink it. But it’ll make one hell of a fire starter.
I pour a little bit of the liquor onto the fabric and whisk it back to my inventory before I pull out the lighter. I stop and spin, spreading my legs wide as I brace myself.
“What are you doing?” Locke yells from the other side. “Move!”
I click the lighter, but it only sparks. No flame.
“Fuck,” I breathe, hitting it again and again. The creature bears down on me, roaring as it towers above and raises its arms. The flame dances to life and catches the fabric on fire immediately, spreading into a relatively large flame.
The creature roars and stumbles back, falling onto its ass in an effort to get away from the small fire.
“That’s right!” I say, waving the very small torch at the creature. It scrambles backwards, terrified of the heat. “Leave us alone! We don’t want to hurt you.”
“The fuck we don’t,” Locke snarls, rushing toward me.
“Let them leave,” I grunt. “It’s just protecting its babies.”
“And I’m trying to protect mine,” Locke spits.
My eyes jerk to his in confusion, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at the creatures as they start to move away. The babies stick their tongues out at us one last time before the creature disappears, no evidence it was there at all. Not even footprints.
Which is good because the wind blows the torch out a second later.
I breathe a sigh of relief and tuck the prepared torch into my inventory in the place where the fabric had been.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT
You defeated a snow golem mother without violence. That takes some snowballs!
REWARD: this sick cloak.
Warning: any small tear or rip will render this cloak’s powers useless.
I stare at the cloak that appears in the air in front of me.
It’s black in color beneath it with a snowflake pattern on the back, and there’s a thick shawl of black fur around the shoulders.
A thick silver chain serves as the fastener in the front.
Carefully, I take the cloak and the description message appears.
“Cloak of The First Snow,” I read. “When worn, you are resistant to cold damage. Oh, shit,” I say, looking over at Locke with wide eyes.
“Well, would you look at that,” Locke says, shaking his head as he studies the cloak. “Apparently, you were right after all.”
“I just couldn’t bring myself to kill the little ones,” I murmur, staring at the cloak. “I thought it would just keep them off us long enough to get away. Not defeat it.”
Locke studies me closely. “I envy you that.”
I blink. “What? Why?”
He tucks his hammer back into his inventory and looks away. “I would have killed them,” he murmurs. “And I wouldn’t have felt bad about it.”
Then he starts walking away, leaving me there to stare after him and his admission.