T R E E S (mostly minecrafters, partly rangers)

Before him stretched green-roofed cottages, the backs of white houses. Someone had answered him, and that voice was what he went to, easily jumping onto the roof of the nearest house from the mountain at its back.

“Where are you? Show yourself!” the voice commanded.

Impulse climbed over the apex of the house and slipped down the other side, wiping at his nose as he went.

“Hi!” he said, his voice crackling.

A pink-haired woman was looking up at him, surrounded by the cobbled streets of a quaint town.

“You parkoured on my roof,” she observed.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Impulse dropped down onto the street as delicately as he could. His head was swimming. “I don’t know where I am.”

“Well, this is Critter City, Animalia,” The woman said slowly. She slowly moved closer to him, and Impulse had the strangest feeling that her head was larger then normal.

“Oh, wow.”

Impulse could have sworn that a frog on two legs walked behind her and opened a door. He sneezed wetly, feeling woozy.

“Ew, what is going on with your face?” the woman asked, and Impulse swore her facial features didn’t move as she moved closer to him. Through the haze of his sickness it almost looked like a mask.

“I’m just sick,” Impulse mumbled. He felt very tired all of a sudden, everything that had and was happening to him culminating in a full-body shut down. “Do you have a bed I could take a nap in? I just need to lay down for a minute. It’s been… a day. There was a rift.”

“Uhh….” The woman looked around. “There’s a tavern over there, but-”

“I’ll pay you later, I run iBuy so I’m very rich.”

Impulse stumbled past her and into the place she’d pointed to. There were a few other patrons in the tavern, and they made odd murmuring sounds as he made his way past their tables. He pulled himself up the stairs and pushed open the first door he saw. A simple red bed was pushed against a wall, and it was the single most beautiful thing Impulse had ever seen in that moment.

“I don’t- who even are you, anyway? What’s going on?” The woman had followed him up the stairs, sounding confused.

“When you find out, let me know,” Impulse replied, and then his head hit the pillow, and he was asleep in an instant.

——

Impulse’s dreams were as confusing and indescribable as his entire experience so far in this new world had been. He caught bits of conversation that he couldn’t decipher as real or imagined. Voices he knew, others he didn’t. He tossed and turned, his body flirting with a deep sleep and a deeper need to wake up, resulting in a marriage of the two that felt wholly uncomfortable.

Eventually, time must have passed, and he roused ever so slightly. His mind was quiet, enjoying a pleasant breeze across his warm skin. His eyes stayed closed, heavy with sleep. His ears picked up on whispers best they could, just to give Impulse’s mind something to do. It was hard to make out what was being said. Impulse swallowed hard.

“You know… if he dies, we could eat him.”

At that, Impulse found the energy to sit up and open his eyes.

There were two shrill screams when he did so, and he turned to see a small woman and what was unmistakably a goblin cowering in a corner.

Memories hit Impulse in flashes as he burst into a coughing fit. Grian had that rift in his basement, had invited everyone to go through it. Stupidly, most of the hermits had done just that. Impulse remembered the brief hint of fresh air when he’d stepped into wherever this was, the flash of confusion when he turned around and saw Pearl unexpectedly dressed in different clothes and a sunflower crown, and then being on a roof, separated from everyone. It was kind of hazy after that. He felt like he’d risen from the dead, but his body hadn’t quite caught on yet.

He stared at the two still huddling in the corner of the room. The woman he remembered somewhat- she had been the first and only person to talk to him when he’d stumbled around on that rooftop. Looking at her now, the face he’d assumed was a feverish misinterpretation was most certainly a mask. The goblin was new.

“Please don’t eat me,” Impulse said, although it came out more high pitched and nasely then he wanted it to.

“You sound awful,” the goblin said with a giggle, inching closer with the woman in tow. “Who are you, strange man?”

“I’m Impulse,” Impulse responded. He still felt pretty sick, and suppressed a cough that hurt his lungs.

“Nice to meet you, Impulse. I’m fWhip,” the goblin said with a hand to his chest, “and this here is Mayor Lizzie.” He waved a hand at the pink haired lady, who batted at his hand playfully. “Say, you’re not part of those Hermits that showed up the other day, are you?”

“I am!” Impulse perked up a little at the mention of his friends. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, just completely running amock in our kingdoms,” Lizzie grumbled.

“I should be going, I guess. My friends will be worried about me, and I should set them straight on all of this running around.”

Impulse swung his feet out of bed and started to stand up, but everything swam in front of his eyes, and he sat back down heavily. He put his head between his knees.

“Okay, maybe in a minute,” his coughs started up again, forcing him to sit up straight.

“There is no way you’re leaving,” fWhip said, shaking his head.

“There isn’t?” Lizzie asked in dispair.

“Lizzie, the man can’t even stand, and you want him to go wander into your town trying to find an exit? You’re the mayor of this town, what will it say about your reputation if a visitor terrorizes and infects everyone in town, or if he dies in your inn?”

Lizzie made a few scoffing noises that almost sounded like a cat yowling, but eventually just sighed. “Fine. But if he does die, me and my townsfolk will be gorging ourselves on his innards.”

“It sounds like you need some medicine and sleep,” fWhip stepped forward to block Lizzie slightly, as if to hide what she had said. He held a bottle of red liquid out to Impulse. “This should help.”

“What is it?” Impulse asked weakly, holding the bottle close to his face and swishing the contents around. It moved like soup- there were definite chunks of something in there.

“Medicine to help with illness!” fWhip replied cheerfully. “Lizzie and I whipped it up ourselves!”

Impulse eyed the two warily. “She wants to eat me, and you aren’t a human. Why on earth should I drink this?” His head pounded though, and just the idea that the red liquid could provide relief was pretty compelling.

fWhip sighed. “Fine. We went to the local witch and she brewed it for us. It’s a health potion, it has a sticker on the bottom of the bottle that says so.”

Impulse found that to be true, and still with some hesitation, drank it all. A cooling comfort washed through his exhausted body, and without a thought to decorum, laid back down and went to sleep.

——

Impulse awoke to the feeling of someone swiping something rough across his forehead over and over again. He gasped, eyes flying open to see a pair of blue eyes staring at him. But no, it couldn’t be, the eyes were clearly painted onto a smooth mask. Anyone could see that close up. Those observations clashed through his head like a ravenger in a pottery shop, and he sat up abruptly to steady himself.

“Um, hi?”

“Hello. How are you feeling?” Lizzie asked, backing away slightly.

Impulse took a moment to assess. He felt well-rested, finally, and his head wasn’t pounding. His throat was scratchy and dry, but then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank water. He felt more awake, alert.

“Doing better then I was,” Impulse replied. “I think I may have to stay here and rest for at least another day, but I’m definetly on the mend. Thank you for letting me stay here, I know I’m taking up far too much hospitality here.”

“Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” Lizzie grumbled to herself, although Impulse could hear it clearly even though his stuffed-up ears. “I mean, of course, you’re welcome. Any time, but I hope this is the only time really, haha.”

Impulse decided to ignore all of that. “So, what were you doing when I woke up?”

“Uh… I was wiping your face with a cloth,” Lizzie said shiftily, hands very clearly empty.

“Very scratchy cloth, I guess. Felt like sandpaper,” Impulse commented suspiciously, feeling at his face, then froze, hand against the skin of his chin.

“Why is my beard gone?”

Lizzie froze, and that action alone was guilt enough for a sentencing.

“Did you… shave me?” Impulse felt the incredulity rise up inside him like water about to boil. He felt an urge to laugh, but hacked out a cough instead.

“I thought it would be funny,” Lizzie whispered. “Wanted to see what you looked like under your fur.”

“My what?” Impulse asked, but was inset with a coughing and sneezing fit.

“Ew, ew, ew, what is coming out of your face?” Lizzie gasped when he’d finished, the masked face hurtling to stare close at Impulse’s nose.

“It’s snot,” Impulse replied bluntly. “I need something to wipe it with. You don’t get snot?”

“I- uh- I mean, of course I do, I have snot every day!” Lizzie sounded nervous. She ripped the sheets off of the other bed in the room and handed them to Impulse. “For the snot.”

“Thanks,” Impulse blew his nose hard.

Lizzie, to his surprise, scrambled in midair at the noise and dashed out of the room. Impulse finished blowing his nose, and after a few minutes she came back in, hunched over a little bit.

“I, uh, had to help another guest at the inn real quick,” Lizzie said haltingly, clearly lying.

Now, Impulse considered himself a little clueless sometimes, but even he could tell that this lady was acting deeply suspicious. There was something about her look that was so off, and that was beyond the face mask she was clearly wearing. If you weren’t thinking about it her features just looked a little big for her small body, but Impulse couldn’t not pay attention to it now that he knew. And there had been that whole thing about her wanting to eat him. She’d said that, right? It wasn’t just a fever dream?

“Are you wearing a mask on your face?” Impulse asked her.

“You know, I bet you’re hungry. Let me go russle up some grub, as they say,” Lizzie said in reply, and dashed out of the room again.

Well, that answers that, Impulse thought. He considered that it might be culturally rude to talk about someone wearing a mask here. It wasn’t really a big deal, just mildly unnerving. He decided to keep his observations to himself while under her care. He certainly hadn’t gotten any confirmed information from her by asking questions, anyway. Their conversation just before had been disjointed and disorientating enough.

Impulse slowly got to his feet, his joints and muscles protesting. He went to the window and cracked it, breathing in the fresh air. Outside sprawled a magnificent city, roads weaving through the residences on either side. The city was divided into clear sections by color palette, which Impulse found interesting to look at. There was lots of activity going on in the city streets, the residents walking about and talking with each other. It was peaceful to watch everyday life go on for these residents.

This place isn’t so bad, Impulse thought.

A coughing fit overtook him, and he hunched over to let it run its course. When he straightened up again, the residents on the street below were all staring up at him with green, froggy faces. Impulse stared back at them for a second, uncomprehending, before flattening himself against the wall next to the window, heart racing. Frogs. Frogs? Impulse knew what he’d seen. He peeked out the window just to make sure. They’d gone back to their shopping and chatting, but those residents were unmistakably green frogs walking on two legs.

Impulse sat back down on the bed, a headache pounding dully between his eyes again. Even still muddled from sleep and sickness, his brain began whirling, trying to piece together how exactly Lizzie had made, or perhaps found, bipedal frogs. A hazy memory returned to him, one from his time staggering up to this bedroom just a day or so ago. There had been foxes too. Drinking from the bar. He stopped trying to think so much, it really hurt his head.

“The grub has been rustled,” Lizzie came back into the room holding two bowls in a proud kind of way. “It’s a good thing I’m here to provide food and drink for you, or else you’d surely die.”

“Well, I mean, maybe. You know, colds don’t usually kill. Do you guys not have colds here?” Impulse asked, accepting the first dish from her- a huge bowl of water. He drank from it instead of questioning it, considering how many times he’d ruffled feathers by inquiring too much.

Lizzie made a little disbelieving noise, like she was also about to question something, but cleared her throat and held out the other dish. “Okay, and I have a meal here with plenty of protein. Does protein help a cold?”

“It can’t hurt, that’s for sure,” Impulse said with a chuckle, taking the bowl. “I’m just grateful for…”

He trailed off. There was a mouse in the bowl. A dead mouse.

“It’s a mouse,” Impulse said. It was a fair observation.

“Yes,” Lizzie replied. “Looks good, right? I just caught it.”

Are mice a delicacy here? Impulse wondered. His stomach turned at the thought.

“You know, that’s very nice of you, and I’m flattered, really. But I think I need to eat something less… raw right now.”

Lizzie pulled the bowl back. “Like what?”

“What about some chicken soup?”

“What on earth is that?” Lizzie asked.

And so that’s how Impulse found himself in the kitchen, surrounded by waist-height bipedal animals, cooking and explaining chicken soup. If it hadn’t smelled so strongly like animal, Impulse would have thought the whole thing was another fever dream.

——

A whole day later, after another long night’s rest, Impulse was feeling a lot better. He had nothing to his name, so he just walked down into the tavern, nodding to a few of the froggy residents and pretending like that was a normal thing to do. Lizzie was behind the bar, preparing what was clearly a bowl of milk, and rushed over to him.

“You’re up! And down here! Are you leaving?” She sounded thrilled.

“I am, I feel well enough to be on my way now.” Impulse said, smiling down at Lizzie. “Grian messaged me coordinates, so I know where to go, but could you direct me out of the city so I don’t stomp on your rooftops again?”

“Yes, please, don’t step on my roof again. Come, this way.”

Lizzie lead him out of the bar and through the maze of streets. The bipedal animals watched him pass, murmuring to one another. Being on the streets among the creatures, and not stricken with fever this time, Impulse was still unnerved by the sight of frogs and foxes on two legs.

Lizzie showed him to a road that twisted away into the forest outside of the city. Impulse double checked his coordinates and sent a quick message to Grian that he was on his way back. He took in a deep breath, the air a little fresher here. Thank goodness he hadn’t been able to smell before this.

“Thanks for everything.” Impulse told Lizzie, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry for stepping on your roof and crashing in your tavern.”

“Yeah, you should be,” Lizzie said sincerely. “But, if you or your friends are an animal, please let me know, I’d be interested in meeting them.”

Impulse nodded, knowing he’d warn all the hermits about Critter City and their mayor the second he got to them.

“Okay, well, bye.” He stuck out his hand for a handshake.