(Those lights…! Not a goblin settlement! That must be human houses!)
Coming out onto a low hill, I spot in the distance a cluster of what look like lights from human homes. The sun has already set, so I’ll head there tomorrow morning.
A stranger showing up at night would seem suspicious, and I have the handicap of not being able to speak on top of that. My chances of being accepted are higher if I go during daylight, when a pleasant smile is clearly visible.
(So tonight, camping out around here. Looking forward to tomorrow!)
To make it a proper human-style camp, I decide to gather firewood nearby. Mandrakes don’t need it, but a human would use fire to have light and warmth while camping outdoors.
In my case I can see perfectly well in the dark so the light isn’t strictly necessary. But a human sitting in the dark with no light would look strange. Up until now I’ve been traveling without any regard for day or night, but with the settlement this close, someone might spot me.
(I could use lamp-grass for light… but it’s still cold at night, so having actual fire is more natural.)
Lamp-grass is one of the plants I’ve absorbed — a lily-of-the-valley-shaped flower about two fists wide that glows like a lantern. According to information from my Status Display skill, humans use it as a light source sometimes.
I decide to use lamp-grass to light the area while gathering firewood. I grow lamp-grass through the vines of my clothes to the tips of my hands, then snap one off.
(Ow… that still hurts. I wish I could make this not hurt.)
The instant I think it, a ping sounds and the text [Pain Nullification] acquired appears. …I’d been trying not to spend any more points since leveling up further seems difficult — and now I’ve accidentally acquired a skill without meaning to, spending 10 points. The trouble with a monster’s body is that it evolves on its own the moment you wish for something.
(Well, it’s fine — I hate pain anyway… a necessary evolution, I’ll call it…)
Lamp-grass in hand, I gather firewood. When I’ve collected quite a bit, I find something odd. A fuzz-ball of a thing lying on the ground, covered in dirt. Looking closely, it’s breathing — alive.
(… A dog?)
A fuzz-ball with its tongue lolling out, lying there limp. Looking more carefully, four legs are growing from it. Not a fuzz-ball — an animal, apparently. By my memory, it matches the shape of a long-haired dog.
I set down the firewood and pick up the dog instead. I examine it under the lamp-grass light — it seems to be in very poor condition, either sick or badly weakened.
(A dog, hm. Sick animals probably don’t taste very good… and as a former Japanese person I have some resistance to eating one regardless… oh, right. I’ll make it a pet!)
Dogs have an extraordinarily deep relationship with humans. And keeping a dog is a very human thing to do. In other words — even if my appearance is a bit eccentric, having a dog with me might give me a more human quality. That’s the thinking.
(It’s weak, but if I give it a recovery potion and keep it warm it should bounce back. Thank goodness for a body that can produce full-recovery potions on demand.)
I wonder how to administer the medicine, but — this is a dog. Giving a human my tears to drink might be a problem, but a dog should be fine.
Using the Diversification skill, I grow a plant with a hollow stem like a straw, use a vine to maneuver the stem tip into the dog’s mouth, and pour the medicine through from my own end. For a split second I thought mouth-to-mouth delivery would be faster, but direct contact would probably make me “absorb” it. My face is part of the root section, so it’s safest not to let living things touch it.
(Technically this mouth isn’t even really a mouth anyway… I eat through my hands…)
My mouth is a voice-and-medicine-output hole in the root section that happens to be shaped like a mouth — I don’t eat through it and it doesn’t produce saliva. Because this body is fundamentally not human, I feel no particular discomfort about any of this. …Though I’m starting to feel like my sense of being human is slowly slipping away.
Still, this medicine should cure most wounds and illness. This dog should be well again by tomorrow.
(I should get the fire going and warm the dog up.)
I arrange the gathered branches on the spot to prepare a campfire, go to light it — and realize I have no way to make fire.
(When I think about it, humans really do rely on so many tools. …Hmm, fire… sparkflower seeds should do.)
I grow sparkflower at the tip of my hair and pluck one of its seeds. No pain anymore — that’s the Pain Nullification skill. The efficiency difference without pain is remarkable. …Yes, my remaining points have dropped to just above 20, but I think that was a skill worth getting.
Sparkflower seeds scatter sparks when crushed, and humans use this to start fires. But since I can freely control any plant I’ve produced myself, I can simply give the seed a command to ignite.
I place the sparkflower seed on the ground and rearrange the dry grass and branches over it. I will the seed to ignite — and sparks scatter through the firewood and it catches. The campfire is complete.
(Will this be enough to warm it? …Should I make something like a bed too?)
Making a grass bed might help keep it warm. I produce seeds of a soft, lawn-like plant and drop them on the ground. Plants produced through Diversification continue to grow even after leaving my body, and since they’re treated somewhat like my dependents, I can make them grow into whatever shape I want and move them around a little — very useful.
I instruct them to grow densely, and a plush grass bed takes shape. I gently lay the dog down on it.
(Tomorrow I can wither the grass and erase the evidence. First, get this dog recovered… and then how do I get it to warm up to me?)
Feeding it should do the trick, so maybe tomorrow I should go hunt some animals or monsters nearby. I can’t use my voice, so I’ll make traps out of plants. I’ve used up some energy and I’m getting a bit hungry myself, so I’ll need to eat too. …The dog is technically emergency food at this point, but I went out of my way to save it, and I don’t want to eat it.
Turning all this over in my mind, I lower myself onto the grass bed beside the sleeping dog. Burying myself in the ground would honestly be more comfortable for resting, but a human buried in the ground would be alarming. Being mistaken for some sort of self-mummified ascetic would be a disaster.
I sit, close my eyes, and rest through to morning listening to the fire crackle.
(Should be morning soon… I wonder how the dog is —EEEEEH!?)
And in the morning, I look over beside me — and for some reason, instead of a dog, a completely naked child is asleep there, and I let out a scream so hard it reverberates entirely on the inside.