Bush-Deer Stew
My head throbbed as if it were about to split open. I woke to a sweet warmth and the crackling sound of wood burning. With difficulty, I lifted my head. In the damp darkness of the cave, the fire was the only source of light—and beside it, someone was stirring a small pot.
Her hair was a deep, violet shade like a blooming hyacinth, and red crystal earrings dangled from her ears. She smiled gently at me as she lifted the spoon, placed it between her long, sharp fangs, tasted it, then continued stirring.
Those fangs… no way.
Instinctively, I reached for my neck. I could feel a dull pain beneath the bandages. The moment she glanced at me, her ruby-red eyes locked onto mine. I tried to stand and reflexively lunged toward the cave’s exit, the direction where the second light source came from.
“THUD.”
My head slammed against the ground with a heavy thump, and I found myself sprawled on the floor.
The purple-haired girl approached with a bowl in her hands. I desperately tried to crawl away, even if only a little.
“Calm down. I’m not going to bite you. Here—eat a little. You lost a lot of blood.”
She covered her mouth with her hand as she said it, and there was a faint wetness in her eyes.
The sweet scent rising from the bowl made my stomach twist with hunger. Even though I didn’t trust her, the smell alone almost broke my resolve. Still, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t knock me out and eat me later. So I waited—waited until she took the first bite.
After playing with the spoon for a moment, she scooped up a piece of meat, held it between her fangs for a few seconds, then swallowed it. Only then did I take the bowl, hold it tight between my legs with my good arm, and take a spoonful myself.
The taste was herbal, with a faint hint of mint. But more importantly, the warmth sliding down my throat filled me with a strange peace. Spoonful after spoonful followed, and before I realized it, the bowl was empty.
I held it out. “Could I… have another?”
A small smile formed on her face.
“Of course. Bush-deer tastes nice when you add a bit of wild potato.”
I didn’t know what “bush-deer” or “wild potato” meant, but the food was good, so I didn’t think too hard about it. She finished her own meal and began braiding the right side of her hair—slowly, absentmindedly. We stayed silent for a long time, the air turning awkward.
“So… your only meal isn’t blood taken by force, then?” I muttered.
She stopped playing with her hair, lowered her head, and fidgeted with her fingers.
“I’m sorry… I’m really, really sorry…”
And just like that, she burst into tears.
“You bit me worse than any deer. Do I look like a deer to you? Do I have horns anywhere?”
Even though I knew I wouldn’t have survived long in that condition anyway, that didn’t change the fact that she bit me.
“For a month… I survived only by hunting deer and drinking their blood. It wasn’t enough…”
She kept sobbing uncontrollably.
I couldn’t truly forgive her—she really bit me and drank my blood. But she did it to survive. It was instinct. You don’t blame someone for eating bread. And she could’ve drained me until I died, but she didn’t.
Still unable to stand, I crawled toward her and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Listen… you bit me. You literally hunted me. I can’t forgive that. But you did it to stay alive.”
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Her tears slowed. Her ruby eyes glimmered, still wet but no longer spilling.
“I’m really sorry,” she whispered.
Was I really scared of this lonely, miserable girl? Am I really such a pathetic thing?
I was beaten half to death by a starving girl and almost died. I couldn’t even fight back. Pathetic.
“But your blood smelled so good… like a cinnamon dessert.”
“Great. Worse than being a deer—am I a cinnamon cookie now?”
I lifted my arm and sniffed myself. I definitely smelled like dried blood and mud. No cinnamon anywhere.
“I’m sorry… but it really smelled good.”
“I don’t smell like cinnamon. Still… giving you a little blood sometimes isn’t a big deal. Just don’t drink enough to leave me bedridden.”
“I’ll savor every drop of that cinnamon essence…”
“My blood can’t taste that different from other creatures.”
“The deer’s blood tasted like grass. The rabbits’ blood…”
She suddenly covered her mouth and held her stomach.
“…just disgusting. Even at my worst, I hated drinking it.”
“Well, since we’ve established I’m not prey or a deer, let’s use our names. I’m Noxtion—but call me Nox.”
“I am Luna BloodMoon, the last heir of the noble BloodMoon bloodline.”
“By the way, was your hair always purple?”
“Oh—no. I covered it in dirt and grime so the rabbits wouldn’t find me. That’s why it was pitch black.”
“You really hit rock bottom, didn’t you?”
“I can’t believe you saw me like that…”
She covered her face with her hands and lowered her head.
“I’d like to wash too, but I guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow. I don’t want to go outside at night.”
“If you want, I can at least wash your hair. A little magic—easy.”
“Wait, you can use magic? What languages do you know?”
For a moment, all the pain and exhaustion left my body. It was like handing a child their favorite toy—I couldn’t contain my excitement.
“The Sin Tongue, the Tongue of Beings, and… a little of the Virtue Tongues. About as much as two divine meanings.”
“What’s your favorite article? Or your favorite spell? No, don’t answer—Neptune’s Wave! No, no—Particle Interaction! Oh, and the Ira–Araferi interaction is fascinating too—”
Wait… what am I saying? Neptune? Isn't that a planet? Particle interaction? Bread particle?
“I… don’t understand anything you’re saying. I only know simple incantations.”
“How do you know Neptune's Wave? Neptune’s Wave is basically… uh… um… wait. How do I even know that?”
Where did that come from?
“Probably some of your old memories resurfacing.”
“But what do these words even mean? They’re in my head, but I don’t know what they mean…”
It was like someone had forced me to memorize foreign words without telling me their definitions. Did I make them up myself?
“I don’t know most of what you said either. But Araferi and Ira are god names. You were probably a mage.”
“A mage, huh? Strange… I barely know anything about magic. But if you say so…”
What even magic? No matter how much I searched the corners of my mind, there was no clear answer. A divine gift? A mechanism of the world? Something else entirely?
“Well, do you want me to wash your hair or not?”
“Yes, please. At least get the dried blood out.”
“????? ????????? ????????? ?????.”
She chanted in a language I didn’t recognize. A soft violet light gathered in her palm and transformed into water. She poured it over my head. It wasn’t hot or cold—just right.
I couldn’t even open my mouth. I simply stared in awe.
“You’ll freeze like that. Let me warm you up and explain a bit.”
“Avaritia, hunc calorem sume et eī quī vērē merētur dā.”
Another phrase in another language. This time she held her hand toward the campfire. The flames dimmed as she absorbed their heat, and warmth spread through my entire body. My wet hair began to dry as she directed the heat into me.
When it was dry, she lowered her hands.
“There. Looks good enough,” she said proudly, wearing a satisfied smile.
“That was incredible. Water appeared from your hand, and then you redirected the heat from the fire!”
A few minutes ago I could barely stand. Now I was walking around, squeezing her hand, staring at the fire and the water puddle like a child seeing magic for the first time.
“Someone’s feeling better, I see.”
“This is amazing! Tell me—how did you do it?”
“Droshi is generally known as a god of Time, but also as a minor water deity. I simply asked him for water.”
“Yes, yes—but the heat thing? The fire went , then I went .”
“That’s just a simple technique using Avaritia, the god of Greed. People usually use it for making tea.”
“For tea?! Amazing. I need to write these god names down immediately.”
“There’s a spare quill and some parchment over there. You can use them if you want.”
I eagerly grabbed the quill and scribbled the names on the paper.
Then I froze.
I was writing in an alphabet I had never seen before. Symbols I didn’t recognize. But somehow… I could read them. Still, I wasn’t sure if they were spelled correctly.
She appeared behind me again, making me jump.
“Your handwriting is really pretty. I’ll tell you every god I know—start memorizing.”
As I wrote the names, something stirred faintly in my mind. Small words surfaced—Clark Constant, Quartz Law, Ranliyum… I didn’t know what they meant. Or whether they had anything to do with magic at all.
