3.
Perris and his good friend Ainsley Moose had a quick lunch of sandwiches and roasted vegetables and departed from the farm not an hour later, heading South-West down the Windblown Field towards Greenhedge Village, home of the Hedgefolk.
Neither of the men said a whole lot for the first half of the journey. They were each stuck in their heads, dark thoughts of things to come assaulting their brains. Perris didn't dare look at his Auras, afraid of what mix of yellow and black he might see. Somehow, seeing those colors would only make the actual feelings of dread and uncertainty that they represented all the worse. If he didn't see them, perhaps he could deny them, even to himself.
It was Ainsley who broke the silence, unable to cope any longer.
"What do you think Layer 29 is like, anyway?" He asked.
The question annoyed Perris, which made him feel ashamed. Never once had he thought of his good friend Ainsley as annoying – his good friend who had stayed with him for nearly a decade now, helping him run the farm and distribute his goods to the people of Greenhedge without ever a second thought. Annoyance was just one of the many long-bottled-up, negative feelings that Perris was now experiencing again since learning that his time in the sun of Layer 30 was over. But he couldn't use those emotions to attack poor Ainsley. He would never make it down The Thread if he let that happen.
"I'm not so sure, Ainsley," Perris said, pushing the tip of his hat backward. "But there's no chance it's as wonderful as Layer 30. I can't imagine anywhere as wonderful as this."
Living in a place for 58 years, you start taking its beauty for granted. What once struck you as a miracle of life now seemed as mundane as blinking or brearhing. But this time, walking through the infinitely windy field, the strong breeze blowing the smell of the Eastern Sea up into their nostrils, so clear you could almost feel the salty spray of the water on your cheeks, Perris realized how much he appreciated his life. He realized how grateful he was to have been granted 58 years, when most seem only to spend a few afternoons on Layer 30.
Then again, what if all those years had made him rusty? What if they'd made him weak and ineffectual in dealing with whatever was to come? What if it was a mistake to enchant a hoe rather than the MOTT axe he'd long ago departed with back in Heaven's Basket?
It wasn't something Perris wanted to consider, but it was something he'd have to face sooner rather than later.
"You don't think The Surveyor will get mad if we can't find The Thread tomorrow, eh?" Ainsley asked. "I suppose searching for The Thread is technically the beginning of the adventure, but he seemed pretty adamant that we get out of here as fast as possible. Or maybe he just meant that we need to start looking tomorrow. Oh, I don't know," he scratched at his left antler.
"Don't worry, Ainsley. I know where The Thread is."
"You do?"
"Of course. I've been here 58 years, there's not a whole lot of Layer 30 I haven't seen. Well, that's a lie. I suppose I've never crossed the Eastern Sea, if it even can be crossed. And I suppose I've only briefly experienced the other end of the Basket. Perhaps those are journeys for when I begin my residency, eh? Regardless, I found The Thread many years ago, friend. I assume it'll still be there tomorrow."
"Right," Ainsley said, adjusting the pack full of produce strapped to his back. "That's a relief, then. Might I ask, Perris; if you knew where The Thread was this whole time – why haven't you travelled down it yet? All of this is great, but it must get boring after so long. Doesn't it?"
Perris thought the question a bit daft. Ainsley knew how great life was on Layer 30. He knew how good the food was, and how kind the people were, and how bright the sun shone and how strong the winds blew. That was why Perris had never descended to Layer 29 and nothing else. Surely it wasn't the crippling fear that burned in his gut, or the anxiety that kicked him in the brain, telling him that nothing but death awaited past Layer 30. No, no. The comfort was what made him stay, not the fear. That, Ainsley must have known. So why even answer at all?
"I suppose it doesn't matter, does it, Ainsley?" He said, avoiding the question and putting on his signature strong front. "Best not to ponder on the whys and the how comes, if you know what I mean. It's time to look forward, good friend. And I'm glad you'll be coming with me, I truly am."
Ainsley smiled and nodded, picking up the pace to catch up to his friend's side. He liked having Perris as a friend.
"Can I ask you one more thing, Per?" Ainsley asked, technically making it two thing. It was the most Perris had ever heard Ainsley speak without being spoken to first.
"Anything, Ainsley." He said, wrapped up in thoughts of picking apples in the Basket, just one more thing he might never do again.
"If it's not too personal, what is your Very Important Quest?"
Now that was something Perris really didn't want to think about. It was something he'd managed to push far, far down over the last five decades, although it still managed to rear its ugly head on occasion, ruining a quiet dinner or a late night bout of reading or a pleasant dream about potatoes. Perris truly hated it.
"Well, Ainsley, my VIQ is to save a princess."
"Wow," Ainsley exclaimed, "that's a real good one, Perris. Real classic." He thought for a moment, then furrowed his brow. "Although I suppose that would mean—"
"That she's been awaiting my arrival for 58 years. Right."
"Right…"
"It's not exactly something I'm proud of, Ainsley."
"Well, who would be?" Ainsley said, coming off a bit ruder than he liked. His hand flew over his mouth. "Oh, sorry. No offense, Perris. What I mean is—"
"No, you're right, Ainsley. I know it's bad, and I'm absolutely ashamed of it. But you know how it is. You feel that sun, you step into that warm ocean, you have a few drinks with the locals and all of a sudden everything that once meant something to you just… doesn't. Even if that thing is another person's freedom."
"A princess, even," Ainsley said.
"Right you are, friend."
Ainsley knew the feeling all too well. It was exactly that feeling, passed down by none other than Perris the Auran, which had kept him on Layer 30 for 10 years now. Who knows how much longer he'd have stayed had that Surveyor not shown up to correct 58 years worth of MOTT negligence? Maybe he would have stayed with Perris for the rest of his infinite days, sipping iced tea and farming crops. It sounded like an alright life. But he just knew it would get boring eventually – he knew Perris must have been bored. He may have been a nervous wreck about the whole thing, but part of Ainsley Moose was happy that they were moving on to better things. He hoped part of Perris felt the same way.
"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Per," Ainsley said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Surely if she'd been rescued or died or something of the like, The Surveyor would have severed you this morning."
"I suppose you're right about that," Perris said, but it was a lie. He wasn't sure of anything when it came to The Surveyors and the Ministry of The Thread. "So what's your VIQ, Ainsley? I'm not sure you've ever told me."
Ainsley had certainly told him before, but he supposed there was no need to bring that up on a day already marred by frustration.
"Well, it's not as exciting as rescuing a princess, but I guess it's in the same realm. My VIQ is to prepare the perfect dish for a great king."
The perfect dish? That was it? It took all of Perris' strength not to scoff. How could saving a princess be even remotely considered an equal VIQ to cooking a great dish?
Then again, Perris was no great cook himself. After so long at the farm he knew the basics, but if Perris had been put in front of a king and told to make his best dish, he'd likely be on the business end of an executioner's blade that very night. So, he just kept walking, not daring to look in Ainsley's eyes and lose his composure. Besides, who ever said all VIQs were made equal?
"In that case, maybe you should have been cooking more of the meals these past few years, huh?" Perris joked, pushing his friend's shoulder just enough to throw him off balance. He quickly recovered, pushing Perris back. Their laughs travelled on the wind.
And as the sun hit its highest point, the first shapes of thatch roofs came into view over the sea of grass, peering up over the hedge wall that protected them from the nonexistent threats of Layer 30. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted up into the Adventurers' noses, and Perris swore he could taste the wine already. Soon, they would arrive in Greenhedge.