Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Seven - Cuter Than a Bun's Ear

I wore the biggest, goofiest smile as I skipped ahead of all of my best friends.

Amaryllis trailed behind me, grumbling and being very Amaryllis-y about being there, but she was there, which made me happy.

Awen didn’t grumble or complain. She just hugged her crossbow close, and sometimes made sure her warhammer was loose in its sheath.

Bastion, for his part, looked as cool as a really cool cucumber.

“Don’t worry guys,” I said. “I’m sure Momma has a couple of good, strong buns with her. We’ll probably be fine.”

Amaryllis huffed an ‘you’re an idiot’ kind of huff. “You’re an idiot,” she repeated, this time with words. “I don’t know how you missed it, but that woman is strong. Older, yes, but strong.”

“Miss Bristlecone,” Bastion said. “Your uncle is Abraham Bristlecone, correct?”

“Awa? Yes, he is,” Awen said. “Do you know him?”

“I know of him,” Bastion said. “I suspect that Momma and Mister Bristlecone are around the same level. The kinds of people that you don’t see all that often, and who can cause a great deal of trouble if they put their minds to it.”

“Are there people like that with the Sylphs?” I asked as I took mental note about that. Was Momma really that strong? She looked more mom-like than strong-like. Maybe this was one of those ‘moms are scary’ situations.

Bastion hummed. “A few. You met Inquisitor Storm. She’s quite formidable. There are some heroes that work among the paladins, and some captains are quite famous for their bravery and strength. Being a very martial nation has helped the sylph gain a few impressive people.”

“I hope I get to meet some of them,” I said.

“I very much hope the opposite,” Bastion said. “On an entirely different subject, I think we’re being followed.”

We were only a couple of meters away from Momma’s house. It was a bit soon for us to have followers. But a look over my shoulder made a few heads dip under the top of the hill under which Momma lived.

“Looks like the little buns are curious,” I said.

“It seems like a racial trait,” Amaryllis said. “At least, judging by your own tendency to run headlong into trouble.”

“Hey!” I said. “I ran into trouble before turning into a bun.”

“Ah, so it’s more of a Broccoli problem than a bun problem. I see. I’ll have to ask the buns to forgive me. I shouldn’t put everyone on the same platter.”

We found Momma near the middle of Hopsalot, in a part of the town hiding in the shade of a trio of huge trees with a big house in them. I wasn’t sure if it counted as one house, actually, or a few connected by rope bridges.

I shook my head and stopped gawking. We had more important things to do than sight-see.

I skipped over to Momma, then paused a little ways away. The older bun was talking to a trio of adult buns, all of them wearing bits and pieces of armour and carrying weapons. They looked like hardened adventurers. Very cute hardened adventurers.

Momma finished whatever she was saying, then gestured for them to wait before moving over to us. “Hello again,” she said.

“Hi!” I replied. “We came to the consensus that we all should come and help, even if we can’t help that much.”

Momma chuckled and rubbed one of my ears in a way that made my leg twitch. I didn’t know that could happen. “You’re very welcome for the offer. I was going to decline if you made it, but I’ve just learned that we might be down a helper or two.”

“Are they okay?” I asked.

“Nothing too serious,” Momma said. “One of my buns was injured near the dungeon. An unlucky arrow, right in the knee. But he’ll be fine in a day or two, I’m sure. Buns can be pretty hardy.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “That’s good, that they’ll be fine, I mean.”

Momma set her hands on her hips and eyed the lot of us. “We’ll be heading out in an hour. It takes a while to get to the dungeon. Since we’ll be short a member, I suppose having all of you along will be enough to pick up the slack.”

“We’re not that bad,” I said.

“Oh my, brave one, aren’t you? No offence, little one, but I don’t think you’re quite as ready as you think. But, we could use some help with the baggage and such-like. And more hands will make lighter work.”

I pouted, but Momma didn’t seem ready to argue. Amaryllis looked a bit miffed about it, but when I met Bastion’s eyes he nodded, and I figured he meant that Momma was in the right with this one.

“Alright then,” I said. “We can take the Beaver over to the dungeon if you want. It’ll make the trip easier.”

Mamma hummed and looked over to the Beaver Cleaver. “I think... not. There are some nasty fire-flinging creatures around. With the dungeon acting up, they might be agitated and come out and make a mess. A few might be running out in the wild already, and they’d see that nice ship of yours as one big target.”

“Ah, I’d really rather not lose my ship,” I said.

Momma nodded. “It’s not that long of a trek. A few hours at most? It depends on who and what we meet along the way. So rest up, and get ready. When I call you over I expect everyone to be ready to go.”

I nodded. “We will be,” I said. “In the meantime, can we play with the little buns?”

Momma laughed and rubbed me between the ears faster than I could duck away. “Go ahead. I’m sure they’ll love the attention.”

Grinning, I looked to my friends and put on my best bunny eyes. “Do you want to play too?”

“You are so immature,” Amaryllis said. “We should be preparing. We have no idea what we’re going up against.”

I gestured to the side where about a dozen little buns were gathered. The tallest only made it to my chin, and that was because his ears were perked right up.

Amaryllis rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said.

Awen actually looked a little bit eager, which from her meant she was super excited, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the buns. A few of them shied away and hid behind the bigger little buns, but some stood brave and tough at the front.

“Hello!” I said. “My name is Broccoli. This is my best friend Awen, my best friend Amaryllis, and my best friend Bastion.”

Awen and Amaryllis waved. Bastion managed to look awkward without actually moving.

“What is she?” one of the buns asked as he pointed to Amaryllis.

“Where’s your ears?” Another asked Awen.

“You have wings!” a tiny voice added before a minuscule bun hopped over to stand before Bastion.

I grinned. “One question at a time, please. We only have a bit of time, and if everyone goes all at once, then we won’t be able to answer everything.”

The buns, all save the little one staring up at Bastion with big soulful eyes, huddled up in a big bun bunch, ears bumping together as they whispered and came up with a plan. I knew they’d come up with something when the net of fluffy ears bounced up and down as they all nodded.

One of the buns, a girl with mud on her cheeks and stained overalls came to stand before us. She was one of the taller ones, with knobby elbows covered in plasters and one of her ears was bent down the middle with a muddy bandage wrapped around it.

She looked like a real tough rascal.

I wanted to hug her.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked.

The girl puffed up and looked up at me, jaw set and eyes brimming with determination. “I’m Sammie. The others el-elec... they voted me the one that’s gonna ask you questions and stuff.”

“Well then, Sammie, ask away!”

Sammie nodded, then pointed to all of my friends. “What’s up with all of them? They people from elsewhere like Momma talks about?”

“Yup,” I said. “I’m from elsewhere too, you know, even farther than all of my friends here.”

“Yeah? So where’re you from?”

“Canada,” I said. “That’s a long ways away.”

“That a village?” she asked.

I nodded after a moment. “It means that, yeah.”

The girl nodded right back and crossed her arms. “That’s alright. What about them?”

I gestured to Awen. “Awen is a human from Mattergrove,” I said. “There’s a whole desert near there, and lots of people.”

The girl tilted her head in time with the entire bunch of buns. “Are these three good folk? Cause Momma said some folk ain’t good and some are, but she never said how to tell easy.”

“They’re very nice people,” I said. “This is Amaryllis, she’s a harpy from the Harpy Mountains.”

“That’s a dumb name,” Sammie said.

Amaryllis puffed up. “And you’re a dumb child.”

The girl snorted. “That’s like if we called our village the bun village. It’s not imag-- imagine... It ain’t creative.”

Amaryllis glared and leaned forwards, so I grabbed her by the scruff of her jacket and pulled her back. “Just a kid,” I muttered low enough that only she could hear me.

Sammie’s big ears twitched and she gave me a pout worthy of a cheek-pinching.

“Ah, right,” I said, as if none of that had happened. “This is Bastion, he’s a sylph from the Sylphfree mountains, way up in the north.”

“Alright,” Sammie said. “So what’re you four doin’ here, and can we play on your ship?”

“We’re on an adventure,” I said. “And not right now, but maybe later? I’d have to ask Clive.... But maybe we could give you a tour?”

My heart almost melted at the dozens of big hopeful eyes staring at me.

“Ah, well... maybe we should make a big thing of it? Do you have any other little friends that would like to join?” I asked. There were a few nods. “Then go fetch them and come meet us at the Beaver!

A few of the buns took off, hopping away with little skips like spooked rabbits. They were surprisingly fast.

“You really gonna let us onto your boat?” Sammie asked.

I nodded. “Sure. His name is the Beaver Cleaver, by the way. The friendliest ship on all of Dirt.”

Awen tugged at my sleeve and I turned to look her way. “Awa, having the kids on board is okay, but we’ll have to be careful. Some things are dangerous.”

“We ain’t dumb,” Sammie said. “Most of us have weapons and stuff at home. We know to listen when the old folk tell us not to touch something.”

I nodded then leaned forwards a little to be at Sammie’s level. “I might need your help anyway. You and all the bigger little ones. Can you keep an eye on the smaller little ones? Make sure no one gets hurt? The Beaver is a nice ship, but he’s got some bits that can be a little dangerous.”

Sammie nodded. “Sure thing,” she said. “So, you the captain?”

“Yup! Captain Broccoli, at your service.”

“You’re a bit weird, but you’re alright,” Sammie said.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “I’m gonna hug you, alright?”

“Aww, dangit,” Sammie said a moment before I squished her to my chest. “I’m too old for hugs!”

“That’s not true!” I said as I let go. “You’re younger than me, and I’m not too old for hugs yet.”

Amaryllis snorted and I ignored her.

I grabbed Sammie’s little dirt-stained hands. “Now come on, we don’t have all that long before we need to head out, so we ought to start sooner rather than later.”

“Alright, alright,” Sammie said. She might have been grumpy, but her ears and widdle tail were twitching with excitement.

I was going to show all the little buns of Hopsalot just how awesome me and my friends were!

***