The Weight of Loneliness

Early in the morning, there came a rumbling coming toward the tower coming from the south. I pulled the sleeping bag off my shoulders, reached beneath my pillow, and slid out my pistol. Branches and limbs at the end of the tree line cracked underneath the feet of something heavy as the rumbling growl grew closer and closer. It stopped just outside of the ring of light cast by the fire just outside would stop, and two pairs of footsteps approached. The light that seeped in from underneath the tarp faded as something stepped in between it and me. I slid the top of the pistol and racked a round, before pushing the tarp away with the barrel of the pistol before springing out.

"Whoa!" Jack said as he backed toward the fire with both of his hands raised.

Clara, the healer of the Secondary Assault Platoon, likewise raised her arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ you scared the shit out of me," I said as I put the gun down. I winced a bit. The wound on my stomach was still sore.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, had a bit of tussle earlier in the day."

I motioned to one of the bodies, now beginning to deteriorate to join the miasma. Jack approached it and nudged it with his foot.

"What is this?"

"A Goblin," I answered. "There were ten closing in on the camp. Got a spear to my stomach as a result of the fight."

"You killed all ten?" Clara asked skeptically.

"Well. The traps did most of the work." I answered. "Then I just ambushed them through the window there." I pointed up the stairs; wincing as the injury on my arm acted up as well.

Her eyes glanced to the remains of the goblin still impaled by the raised wall trap: nearly completely dissolved into the latent miasma of the air.

"That's still pretty impressive." She said.

"What rank are you?" Jack asked.

"Still F. Though I'm almost to E- rank in Anima Manipulation."

"What happens then?"

"I'll be able to use Anima Bullet, I think."

"What's that?"

I shrugged.

"It allows you to infuse anima into your bullets." Clara said, "It gives them a stronger punch."

"A stronger punch? How so?"

"Can I see that?" She motioned to my pistol.

I handed it over.

"This is a regular bullet without infusing it with anima." She said as she took aim at a particularly thick pine at the edge of the clearing.

The gun roared to life, and a small, splinter-spun hole opened up where the bullet bore in. A normal bullet hole.

"This is a bullet infused with anima."

She took in a sharp inhalation of breath, as the gun began to glow ever so slightly. As she squeezed the trigger, a bright white flash shot out of the barrel, and the glow on the gun faded. The bullet slammed into the tree and broke it apart. A pained groan emitted from the pine as it lurched and fell backward into the woods beyond.

"You mean I'll be able to do that??"

"Well, not quite. My anima manipulation is A rank, so mine's obviously stronger. But that's the basis of other ones. With Anima Bullet you'll be able to infuse your bullets with certain elements or with certain properties if you ever learn them. And if you're clever enough, you could apply the same principle to your sword."

"Eh, so I'm not going to get that?" Jack said, "Strengthening is going to be unlocking for me."

"Well, there are two types of Anima Manipulation — internal and external. Internal, like what you have Jack, means you take Anima into your body and use it as a kind of an internal bulwark that allows your body to perform nearly impossible deeds, while external allows for things like imbuing it in weapons."

Jack sat down at the fire, and I followed suit; wincing as I moved.

"Does that mean I'll never be able to learn external animal manipulation?"

"No, but you'll always be better at internal manipulation, likewise, Lyle here will always be better at external, though he could learn internal."

Clara sat next to me and put a hand on my arm where the pain was still radiating out of.

"This is a form of external manipulation as well." She said as her hands began to glow a sight yellow, "Though I imbue a person with healing energies and not a weapon."

The pain in my arm began to fade. Her hand moved down to my stomach and pressed against the wound there. I winced a little. As she moved closer. For a chubby girl, she wasn't that bad-looking. Her hair was red and done up in tight curls, and her skin was soft and white with freckles. Her hands were soft as well, and she smelled faintly of roses. How long had it been since I was this close to a woman? Years? It must be. Should I reach out and….

She drew her hand away as soon as the healing was done, and I clicked my tongue. If only I were a bit quicker.

"All the pains gone, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's start."

"Get started?" I swallowed the bit of excitement budding in my throat.

"Yeah." She tucked her hair behind her ear as she shifted and stood. "Unloading the truck, and getting the things you want to sell in."

I clicked my tongue again. Getting ahead of yourself, Lyle.

I pushed myself off the ground and walked over to their flatbed truck: parked at the entrance to the path I had been carving through the underbrush. We unloaded the things one by one: I set the alchemy stuff by the fire on one of the ratty blankets I had available and placed them on the ground. The armor he brought was a simple steel cuirass, shin guards, and bracers. They fit together with elastic bands that stretched and conformed to my shape. I slid them off and set them inside the tarp to keep them out of any rain.

Along with the things I asked for, there were 100 more bullets for each gun and 7 more MREs. Once the bed was empty, we began filling it with the stuff that I had gathered over the last couple of days. We chatted about things that had been going on. I didn't want to seem like a pussy, so I left out the details of the undead and the approaching drums, while he told me of his delves into the Coal Pit, and of his fight with the elementals there. He had lost quite a bit of weight at this point and looked as if he could lift up a car. I wondered briefly if I had changed that much in the short time I had been up here.

Clara picked up the strips of white scales from the fish that was caught in the trap. Each was about half as long as she was tall.

"You killed a White Terror as well?"

"I caught it in a trap," I answered.

"If you catch another, make sure to take their eyes as well. Can sell those for a good price."

"I'll be sure to remember that," I say.

Everything was over far too soon. And it wasn't long before Jack was saying his goodbyes, and getting in the driver's seat of the truck. The oncoming week of solitude hung over me like a pall, and suddenly the quietness of everything felt as heavy as anything I've ever held.

"Hey, are you the one coming by next time?" I asked.

"I am." He said.

"Do you want to do a few jobs while you're here next time?"

He glanced at Clara, and she nodded.

"Sure! I'll see you then. Ah! Almost forgot." He got out of the truck opened up the back seat and pulled out a sealed bowl: steam seeping out from the plastic lid. "From the Cat and the Fiddle."

"Thank you." I smiled and took it.

Breakfast that morning was bittersweet. The food was everything that I remembered , but accompanied by the I listened as the distant rumbling growl of the engine pulling away, it didn't taste right. It was over too soon. Far too soon. Another week of solitude out of how many?