There used to be a small village to the east called White Ridge. Before Beth's time, it was a bustling little village known for the exotic ores found in the forest hills near where the town was built. The legend goes that a group of miners dug into a gaseous pocket, and the fumes killed everyone working in the tunnels. Soon, the valley filled with noxious gas, and the few settlers who were living in the village packed up their belongings and left due to the toxicity of the area. This was long ago, and the location has since become overrun with nature and wildlife, leaving only a few of the old cabins behind. The gas had also dissipated, no longer posing an imminent threat to anything that lived nearby.
When Beth came through on horseback, it was getting closer to the harvest season, which meant the nights were getting colder. She was returning home from gathering some supplies when she had pulled over for the night and set up camp. As she kindled the campfire, flurries began to fall from the slate-colored sky. "Hm, I should gather some frost-berries to take back to the café," Beth noted.
And so, she set out in the nearby forest in search of the rare treat. Generally speaking, frostberries weren't rare, but the ones you could eat without getting sick were. The berries are very toxic all season long, causing anyone who eats them, aside from the local wildlife, to become uncontrollably ill and vomit violently. However, after the first frost of the year, the sub-freezing temperatures neutralize the toxin in the fruit, rendering them safe to eat. The big downside here, though, is that after the first frost, the berries won't grow again until spring, so only the fruit hanging on the bush after the ice glaze is edible.
Beth had just started to fill her basket when she noticed an extreme drop in temperature. Worried that the small harvest flurry would turn into a full-fledged pre-winter blizzard, she worked faster, gathering all the rare berries she could before the storm had a chance to worsen. However, the night quickly went from questionable to bad. Frigid winds tore through the valley, testing the limits of the surrounding trees. With a wicker knapsack half full of edible frostberries, Beth set course back for her camp with plans to hunker down and wait out the intensifying storm.
A short yet shrill scream pinged off the swaying hardwood sentinels that surrounded her, and she immediately ran toward the source of the distressing call. Who or whatever it was—was close. It didn't take Beth long to find a small set of footprints she quickly recognized as human. The wind pushed and pried the branches, and the rustling of leaves overhead drowned everything out. The horn on Beth's head glowed a pale blue, which helped illuminate the darkening forest, if even slightly. Her shorter stature also helped her move through the briar-ridden paths that lay between her and the source of the scream. A slight pause in the otherwise turbulent wind allowed Beth to hear a twig snap a few yards back. She quickly turned and saw a feral bear stalking her, likely following the footprints Beth and whoever she was following left behind. The nimble beast lunged, just barely missing its target. Unfortunately for the beast, the miscalculation in its pounce led to its swift death. The feral bear didn't even have a moment to reset its stance before Beth had driven her blade into the back of its neck and out its throat. She didn't like the idea of killing animals, especially with no intent to render them down into food or supplies, but in this case, it was self-defense. Not to mention, feral bears carried diseases that made it difficult for the animal to put on weight, which resulted in their exceptionally agile nature. In other words, it was tainted meat. Some old-timers claimed it could still be edible if soaked in salt water and then frozen for a few years, but it wasn't worth it to Beth. To her, it was such an antiquated process just to end up with mediocre jerky.
With the beast dispatched and the storm worsening, Beth continued following the trail of juvenile footprints. She only made it a few more yards before it became the wind, and snow made it increasingly more difficult. Noticing a cave, she moved closer to take a look inside, figuring it belonged to the bear. Perhaps the distressing scream came from here, she thought, but on the other hand, she was half expecting another feral bear to spring out.
"Don't hurt me—please," a young girl beckoned from inside. She was thin and wearing dirty patchwork clothes. It looked like she had been crying for quite some time. She quivered uncontrollably from the combination of fear and cold.
"Hey, don't be scared," Beth whispered, extending her hand slowly toward the sobbing girl. The shocked savior beamed as the child looked up at her with bloodshot eyes.
On the other end of the spectrum, the isolated girl couldn't believe that someone finally spoke gently to her, and an adult no less, although Beth was relatively short. She had never heard such sincerity in words before and was tempted to respond, but the last time she did, the headmistress whipped her and told her it was out of place.
"I won't hurt you," Beth knelt closer to the terrified child.
"Please, d—don't touch me," the little girl muttered. She quickly realized she had just spoken back to an adult and instantly transitioned into a ball, prepared to receive her punishment. Headmistress Vera used a bullwhip to discipline any of the children who stepped out of line, which was easily done within the scope of her unpleasant rules. Failing to be on time for anything: dinner, bed, bath, schooling, etc., even if mere seconds, would result in a brutal lashing. Not finishing the dreadful sludge that somehow was passed off as food from their plates would result in a brutal lashing. Even leaving a folded corner on an otherwise perfectly made bed would result in a brutal lashing.
"Alright, hey—I won't touch you. My name's Beth, I'm from Crest Town, what's your name?"
The girl's gaze slowly panned up, but she didn't say anything.
"Do you have a name?" Beth asked. Justice nodded her head but remained quiet. "Are you alone?" Beth asked her a bunch of basic questions, but she already had a relatively decent understanding of the situation. The kid was clearly on the run because why else would she be out here hiding out near a ghost town? Not to mention, her dirty, patchwork clothes led Beth to believe she was homeless. With no actual response aside from nervous shaking and the occasional nod, Justice started feeling a little more comfortable. She really liked Beth. She was different from anyone she'd seen, from her short stature to her horn, all the way down to the unique splotches on her skin that Beth dubbed "Kepler-Pigment."
"M—my name is Mudd," the young child tells her.
"Mudd? What kind of parent would give their child such a horrible name?" Beth asked, slowly putting her arm around her as the storm intensified. The moment her hand grazed the child's shoulders, the young girl winced in pain.
"Not my parents, Headmistress Vera at the orphanage," Justice explained, "I hate my name. I hate headmistress Vera, and I hate that place. Even the other kids are mean to me!" The protective wall that Justice kept around her emotions shattered with the arrival of the first person who genuinely seemed to care about her—and she only knew Beth for a matter of minutes.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird," Beth started to sing. As she nuzzled the child, Beth looked down the back of the young girl's shirt and could see the scars the whip left behind. She had a thousand more questions, but they could wait.
"Can I stay with you?" the girl interrupted the lullaby.
Beth had no plans of leaving the girl behind as it was, and it hurt her deep down that the kid would even think she'd leave her alone, but that was the gravity of the situation. "Yes, of course," Beth smiled, "but only on two conditions."
"Anything—I'll do whatever you want; I just can't go back there. I can't—"
"Hey now, calm down. My conditions are very straightforward and reasonable. One: you help out with my little café back in Crest Town. In turn for that, I'll feed you, give you a place to stay, and look after you as if you were my own."
"Yes! I agree! I—I—What's a café?" the girl asked.
Beth couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's enthusiasm despite not knowing what she was enthusiastic about. "It's like a restaurant, a place where people can go to get some food and drinks."
"Oh! That sounds fun!" Her eyes didn't hide her excitement, "What about the other condition?"
"My other condition is that we do something about that name of yours. You're a very pretty girl, and that name does you no justice, I'll tell you that."
"Justice?" the girl thought for a moment, "Can that be my new name? Justice?"
Beth stroked the girl's charcoal-colored hair, "Perfect. Nice to meet you, Justice."
She thinks for a moment and decides the cloak of her tunic set would do well to comfort the small girl. Though it's somewhat worn with age, it's still able to completely cover Justice. She hoists the lonely child from the cave ground onto one of her hips and begins walking back to her steed.
As a means to soothe Justice's troubled mind, Beth offered a perspective that shimmered like a star of hope: "Life only becomes harder when you surrender to its whims."
The look on the young girl's face filled with curiosity as she pondered the weight of Beth's words. Deep down she felt them gradually ease the burden in her heart. Exhaustion washed over her as the accumulated worry nerfed her energy. With only a flicker of strength remaining, Justice quietly spoke a word that caught Beth off guard, a word she never expected to hear: "...Momma."
When this short trip back is almost done, Beth notices Justice is already sound asleep. She sees this girl would've died out in the bitter wilderness on her own, knowing how frail she was.
Back in the present day, Beth opens her eyes to Harper and everyone else staring at her.
Harper's hands are caressing Beth's arms, "Are you ok? You were crying,"
Everyone here knows Beth doesn't cry so easily, so something must be bothering her. It took her a little longer than usual to regain her composure, not knowing she was even shedding tears.
After a minute of remembering where she is, Beth hesitantly replies, "Yeah, I'm—"
She looks down as if suddenly disinterested or even tired. "I'm ok..."
It's clear to everybody here that Beth isn't herself right now, as if she were one in the shadowlands. It's not often, but on almost rare occasions, Beth's nature shifts in tone, even slightly, just enough for everyone to notice. And, by some strange coincidence, Beth's esoteric amulet glows each time she conveys such melancholic behavior. Perhaps it's a deeper magic or side to Beth they believe she's also unaware of. Whatever the case, Harper stands up to pull her out of the chair to leave the dining room.
Arvid quickly comments, "I guess we're done here? I'm gonna finish my last four bottles of blue beer tonight, then!"
She's brought to her bedroom for some rest. The fact Beth doesn't sleep much in general doesn't help, and it may be the reason why she even has bouts of debility.