INSTINCTS 3.3

Dannke threw open the door of the tavern and entered. The sound attracted the attention of the local drunks. All eyes immediately turned to the little hyaenid. There was silence. He felt very uncomfortable, but Dannke looked at him seriously and nodded his head so as not to lag behind. He stuck to the old knight like fleas to fur. They sat down at a table. A huge man approached them and looked at Fleas seriously.

"Is ‘it’ what I think?"

The little one lowered his ears and shrugged.

"This is my squire. His name is Fleas, and mine's Dannke. It's a pleasure," he said, though he didn't sound happy. "We'd like a beer each."

"Alright," he replied dryly and went to fetch the drink.

Fleas was confused. He thought he was going to throw him out like a mangy dog. The silence gradually faded, and the drunks returned to their revelry.

"Why didn't they throw me out?"

"If there's one thing merchants hate more than other races, it's losing a sale. They will put up with orcs, fairies, and even gnomes just to make a few coins. Humans do the same thing, they stick to nobles like flies to shit, just because they have wealth."

He brought them the two beers and held out his hand, demanding payment in advance. Knight Dannke analyzed both for spit or worse. They seemed clean. He then paid him.

"Cheers," Dannke said and raised the mug, expecting something. "Now you must clink yours against mine."

He did. The foul-smelling liquid inside spilled over the sides and onto the table. Some of it soaked his fingers. The knight sipped the beer in several long, uninterrupted gulps. Fleas mimicked him, but the liquid burned his throat. He coughed and his eyes filled with tears. What was that stuff? Dannke laughed.

"My first time was the same. Take short sips and enjoy the taste. Soon you'll feel how delicious it is."

He obeyed. Gradually the mug emptied. But it seemed endless.

"Tell me, what do you want?"

Fleas looked confused. The knight explained.

"You told me that your species had abandoned you. That you were weak, that you had nothing but fleas. I can assure you that is not true, you possess a fear and anger that I have rarely seen in a warrior. So what do you want, what motivates you to get up every day?"

Was that a trick question? Was there a right answer?

"To serve you, my master."

Dannke rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose.

"You will outlive me. And I will have no descendants. When that happens, you will be free. Maybe you'll be grown up by then. What will you do then?"

Fleas looked at the small bubbles that disolved as soon as they escaped from the liquid and turned into nothing. What if that happened to him? Maybe his only reason for being was to be a slave, to be an it, as the bartender had called him. When he was free, would he disappear like the little bubble he was?

"I'm sorry," Dannke wispered, "I don't think it's easy to think about the future when the present gives us no respite. But I'm old, my breath is slow. Then the future is the only possession I have left, like your fleas. Next time we have a beer, as a two free creatures and not as master and slave, you'll answer that question."

Fleas doubted that would happen. He was halfway through and felt strange, as if the world was spinning around him. Also, words and sounds seemed to float in the distance without ever reaching his ears. Could that be why the so-called drunks were screaming all the time? With his tongue numb, he was able to finish the drink. Dannke ordered another...

He didn't remember falling asleep when the old knight woke him. He had slept on his back, not in a ball as he usually did. His head hurt and he was thirsty as hell. He ran to the river and drank without hesitation.

"I don't recommend you do that. Take small sips or you'll vomit."

"What happened?"

"It happened that you discovered your limit. Three pints."

"Three? I only remember the first."

The old knight stretched his muscles and wiggled his fingers in the air, which seemed to cause him some kind of pain, judging by his expression and the cracking sound they made.

"Look on the bright side, you didn't wake up screaming or peeing your pants."

If beer was the price, he had no desire to pay it.

One thing was certain from the previous day's conversation: he had to think about his future. He could never go back to the tribe, and humans were not an option either. There were good ones, like Dannke, but most of them were bad. So what would he do if he won his freedom? One thing was for sure, he did not want to have any more nightmares. That was his immediate wish.

"Master, have you ever been so afraid that you couldn't move?"

He arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"That is not a question to ask a man. But, yes, I had.

"What do you do against that fear?"

"You fight. You pick up your sword and face it. Until there's nothing left of the thing that frightens you. That's a knight's duty."

He remembered how he had lost his mind when he had faced Dannke with the stick. He remembered how he had felt invincible for the duration of the attack, how he had felt something unknown overpowering him. It wasn't a nice feeling because he had lost control of his own body, but fear wouldn't let him be himself either. How to overcome a lifetime, however short it was, of being minimized, of being considered nothing more than a useless little bugger? He looked at his hands for a moment and clasped them, as if to take the reins of his own being between them.

"Teach me. I want to fight fear."

Dannke smiled.

"All right, but wait until the hangover passes. Trust me, you don't want to move too much today.”