(23) It Was Disturbed

Tara blanched, staring at what was, without a doubt, the most shit she had ever seen. Even more disturbing than the sight was the smell—or lack of it. That she might have grown accustomed to the smell of such filth made a cold sweat drip down her back.

“You, uh…we’re gonna clean…all of this?” Yuma asked from her side, the broom held loosely in her trembling hands.

“Not yet,” a gruff voice responded.

“I will do my work firssst,” a smooth, pleasant voice followed.

A figure about a head taller than Tara strode to the front of the group, hands held before them. They wore a strange pair of leather suspenders over what seemed to be a white robe. The sleeves of the robe were flowing and loose, and the suspenders were tied off at the calves.

Perhaps these features were what Tara’s eyes focused on first due to a subconscious need to find the familiar amidst the strange, as that was all that was familiar.

The head of a goat emerged from a large collar in the robe; its gray fur was long and well-kept, longer on the chin than the rest of its head, resembling a goatee. Beside it was the head of a snake with green scales so dark they were almost black, though they reflected a brilliant verdance when the light struck them.

The heads were attached to a humanoid torso, with long fingernails that curved into claws. There was a mishmash of fur and scales on the exposed portion of their arms, as if a snake, goat, and human were haphazardly smashed together.

Legs that hinged backward and ended in hooves supported them, and a tail of glistening scales swayed from behind. The snake’s eyes were a brilliant green and slitted, while the goat’s were a dull yellow, with rectangular pupils.

Theron had introduced the individual.

“This here’s Seti. They’re in charge of the farm, and they’ll be showin’ you around. Let me just head off a couple of questions: yes, they’re a chimera.

“No, they’re not sensitive about it. Yes, each head thinks independently. No, I don’t know which controls the body or how any of that works.

“You can ask them. I wish you luck, if you do. One head doesn’t say more than two words at a time; the other—you’ll wish they were so restrained.

“Alright, Seti can open the door whenever you’re ready to head back to your bunks. I gotta get back to cooking—to chefing, I mean.”

A spark ignited in Seti’s hands, growing into an inferno that they tossed casually into the barn. Tara tensed instinctively, prepared for the barn to be reduced to cinders as searing heat blasted out the wide double doors. In a flash, the fire died, revealing a barn that was fully intact, now covered in ash and soot, but no longer piled with animal waste.

“Just the ashes,” the goat’s head said, its voice like shifting gravel.

The group stared at the smoke billowing out of the doors, ash blowing out from a wind that sprang up from…somewhere. The whole thing was surreal. They were inside Nemesis, yet there was wind. In fact, Tara felt as if she might wake up at any moment and chuckle at this dream’s absurdity.

“How could this wooden structure possibly survive such a flame?” Yuma muttered, likely more to herself than anyone.

“Ah, that’sss thanksss to the blackwood,” the snake said, its voice smooth, like the timbre of a gentle breeze.

Tara studied the barn, huge but otherwise unremarkable. It was made of wood, clearly, but she had assumed it was painted black. When she saw the flames, she began to suspect it was blackened from constant scorching.

“How does its color help?” Yuma replied, inquisitive.

“Blackwood growsss along the Crater’sss northern rim. They’re the only treesss to sssurvive the Ssskyfade impact, thisss clossse to itsss origin, anyway. Much more than sssurvive, they’ve thrived, naturally resssissstant to flamesss,” Seti explained.

Seti’s heads had this uncomfortable habit of acting independently. While dusting their hands off on their suspenders, the goat head seemed focused on the barn interior, while the snake head was twisted around, staring at the group behind, its neck flaps flaring open and shut like a cobra’s.

“Who’s controlling the body right now?” Tara blurted, slapping a hand over her mouth the instant the words left it.

“I am,” the goat said.

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“I am,” the snake replied at the same time.

The chimera walked over to the doors, opened them fully, and motioned the group inside, unfazed by the contradiction. The group traded glances before shrugging and heading inside.

Contrary to the size of the barn, there were only a few stalls lining the walls. There was a large, open area at the front with a couple of troughs where the animals could graze, and the wooden floor was unevenly pressed by hooves.

Numa dropped a brush in Tara’s hand. She glanced at Numa with an eyebrow raised, but received only a shrug in response. She sighed, realizing that she had actually wished for this not an hour ago, though she could not decide whether scrubbing on her hands and knees was better or worse than digging holes.

“Theron is the chef, Ramose is the overseer…what’s your title?” one of the others asked Seti, dunking a mop into a bucket of water. “Are you like…the beastkeeper? Farmer, maybe?”

“Tanner,” the goat grunted, producing a bucket large enough for Tara to sit in.

It thumped to the ground, drawing everyone’s attention. Yuma glanced back from where she was sweeping near the entrance.

“What is that for?” she asked.