The Non-Human Society

Chapter 116 - One Hundred and Fifteen – Renn – The Clothed Woman

Chapter 116: Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen – Renn – The Clothed Woman

The Clothed Woman was... different.

And not just in appearance.

There was a strange smell around her. I wasn't able to place it, but regrettably a part of me... was disgusted by it. It made me feel horrible to think such a thing, to be repulsed by her scent... but it was the truth.

Her stink wasn't because of an odor, however. It was something else. Something I couldn't understand. She didn't smell as if she was dirty, or unwashed. Nor did she stink because of... whatever she wore, or was wearing beneath her white robes.

Something told me it was more innate. Something that most others probably didn't even smell, or couldn't smell. It was so subtle sometimes, that I even wondered if Vim smelled it.

Was it because of what she was? Or was it something else? Something she did, or ate?

"Sometimes I sew clothing... I give it to Brandy when she visits," the Clothed Woman said as she quickly moved her needle.

I nodded as I watched her patch white cloth. The same color as the robes she wore. It almost seemed like it was another set, but it wasn't big enough. Maybe it was a part of her dress? The robes she wore all looked sewn together, but that didn't mean they really were or always were.

Sitting across from her, we sat in the open living room together. We had pulled the chairs away from the table and were sitting near the corner of the room. She was sewing, and I was just sitting and talking to her.

"I enjoy crafting as well," I said. I wasn't sure if I should tell her I had spent time at the smithy. Not because I wanted to hide it... but I worried she'd stop treating me kindly if she learned.

There was a good chance she didn't like Nebl, or his family. Based off the odd woman's penchant for hating our own kind.

"Most of our kind do. We get too old to not become restless," she said.

I nodded and agreed with that.

"Do you plan to make a home in Lumen?" she asked.

"No. Vim wants me to meet Brandy, as to learn from her," I said.

"Learn...?" Her sewing didn't stop but she did look at me. Or at least, it seemed like she did. Her head turned, and by all accounts one would think she was staring... yet somehow, for some reason... I felt as if she wasn't.

I shrugged, and felt bad when I did. If my instincts were right and she really wasn't looking at me, it was rude not to speak my thoughts aloud. "I'm not sure. He just wants me to spend some time with her, I think," I said.

"Ah... maybe there's something you must learn from her. Vim is odd in his ways, but as strange as his methods are they're still productive," she said.

Her words seemed rude, but I could hear her genuine tone when she spoke of Vim.

She liked him. Maybe not the way a woman liked a man... but rather a person. She relaxed when he was nearby, and it was noticeable enough that even I could see it without being able to see her finer features.

But her feeling safe and comfortable around the protector was something most did.

"Is Lumen as big as it looks? I saw it from that massive bridge in the mountains. It looked... as big as Telmik," I said.

"Bigger, actually. It runs along the coastline, for the boats, and then runs up the mountain. It also goes into the mountain too, although I've been told they no longer are digging into it anymore," the Clothed Woman said.

"Bigger?" I asked.

She nodded, her sewing pausing just a moment as she rearranged some of the cloth. She wanted to sew another side tighter.

How did she see? I know I felt as if she didn't, yet it was obvious she could.

From what I could tell there was another, even thicker, layered of cloth below the face cloths that hung from her head covering hat. They were white, so probably to a degree see-through... yet they weren't. I couldn't see past the first layer, let alone any beneath it.

"Lumen is an eventual city-state, Brandy says. It's becoming rather powerful," she said.

"City state..."

"It will eventually declare independence. I'm not sure if Brandy has anything to do with it or not, but she's confident it will happen," the Clothed Woman said.

She spoke kindly of Brandy, as well. How strange.

She seemed so... gentle. So pious. So well mannered.

Yet there was deep hatred in her heart. For a lot of things.

"Human politics," I said. It was interesting to learn of them, but I honestly didn't care much for them either.

The Clothed Woman nodded. "Worthless thing, it is," she said.

Smiling softly at her matter of fact hatred, I wondered how many were like her. There were more than I thought based off Vim's comments... but how many truly? What percentage of our kind was like her?

"How long have you been here?" I asked her. I didn't like how she didn't have a name... Vim called her the clothed woman, but it felt so wrong to address her as such. That was her appearance, not her name.

"One hundred and thirty eight years," she answered.

I had a feeling she could tell me the days and moments too, if I asked.

"And yes, I stay here alone. There used to be more of us, but they're gone now," she added before I could ask another question.

"Ah... I'm sorry," I said softly. I had wondered, but I had not planned to ask about that.

The Clothed Woman shifted her shoulders in a way that told me she was smiling. "It is fine. I used to weep over it, but I've come to accept it. Eventually all things end, so it is only natural," she said. She spoke with a very calm and even natured tone that I was almost tricked.

She wasn't over it at all.

"The longest I ever stayed at one place was about half that time. I had lived with a witch, in the north," I told her.

Her sewing slowed a moment, and she tilted her head. "A witch?" she asked.

I nodded. "An old human. She had wanted to kill me, yet didn't know how. She taught me a lot," I told her.

Her sewing stopped. "And?" she asked.

"I ended up killing her," I told her.

The Clothed Woman's hands tightened a little, and I worried she'd prick herself with the needle. Yet she didn't. "I see. I'm glad you survived such an encounter. Had she imprisoned you?" she asked.

Imprisoned...? Oh...

My mind whirled as I realized I had told her a tad too much. I had felt comfortable revealing it, since she seemed to hate humans. I figured she would have heard me slaying the witch and just accept it. Taking it for granted, even.

"No... she was just odd. I stayed with her as to learn what I could, for as long as I could," I said.

"Wisdom. I wish more were like you. Yet most of our kind would not have had the strength, internally and not, to do such a thing safely," she seemed to accept my statement easily with a nod.

"So I've learned. I... honestly only recently learned of the Society," I said. I made sure to omit that it had been those at the Sleepy Artist who had introduced me to it.

Though... maybe she wouldn't get upset over it. She had hated Shelldon enough to actually get happy over learning of the Sleepy Artist's destruction.

No.

She would.

Especially since the entire reason I had been banished was because I had chosen Amber over them.

A human over our own kind.

"Then know most of us are as weak as the humans we flee from. I can see and hear your strength, Renn. You walk like Vim," the Clothed woman said.

"Huh? I do?" I asked as I looked down at my feet. I walked heavily like he did?

"Steadily. Confidently. It is a rare trait, especially today. Even in the past, when more like you walked this realm... such a confident woman was rare. I can see why he favors you," she said.

For a few moments my mind whirled as I processed all the information. She was old, then. If she remembered a time when there were lots of us. And I walked confidently? Steadily? I knew better than to take those words at face value. She, being the kind of person she was... spoke solidly but also with a lot of thought. She was comparing me to Vim, after all.

She must mean I walked boldly. As if unafraid of anything I'd find along my path.

Which was funny, since I always felt the exact opposite.

Yet as interesting all that was...

"He favors me?" I asked, deciding to further pursue that topic.

The Clothed Woman giggled as she finished sewing. She lifted it a little, and tugged at the sides. The seam she had just sewn didn't flinch.

"Vim favors us all. Yet some more than others. It's been a long time since I've heard him readily tease and joke with another so blatantly," she said.

Tease and joke...

"He does like his silly jokes," I said. They were rarely funny, but they usually came from him when he was smiling and amused.

"The day those silly gags end are the day we all perish, I think," she said lightly.

I wasn't sure what to say to that as I watched her stand. She stepped aside and to a nearby desk, where several small boxes laid. One of them was the source of her needle, which she returned it to. It was one of hundreds it seemed. The little box looked rather scary with the hundred of needle heads poking upward.

About to say something, I realized I was about to call her the Clothed Woman. And...

"Can I ask something personal?" I asked her cautiously.

"Sure... though I may not answer," she said as she turned to look at me.

"What's your name?" I asked.

The Clothed Woman slowly shut the needle box, and then chuckled. "I see. I was wondering what was bothering you. You are far gentler than I had thought," she said.

I shifted on my seat as she tapped the top of her needle box with a gloved finger. Why did so many people call me gentle?

"The Clothed Woman just seems... insulting. But..." I felt a little silly as I told her the truth.

"How interesting. Did you know there's actually quite a few of us who don't even understand the concept of names?" she asked as she turned to face me.

"The concept?" I asked.

She nodded and crossed her arms. Suddenly she looked more human than ever, as she leaned back against the desk for support. "A lot of our older siblings don't even understand it. They can't comprehend what a name is, what it means. Then there are those like you, who feel uncomfortable when we don't have a name," she said.

The way she spoke... and what she was speaking of, made me feel unnecessarily small. As if I was a young child.

She knew what names were. She used them. Yet she spoke as if she was just like the ones she spoke of, incapable of understanding them.

"You don't have a name?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "I do not."

"Why not just pick one?" I asked.

"Ah, so you aren't entirely without our mindset, then. Glad to hear it," she chuckled at me.

Without their mindset? She meant the mindset of our ancestors, didn't she?

I tried to think of my own ancestors. The ones my grandparents had told me about.

Most had names still. Even the ones who had been nothing but giant animals, without human reason or morality.

Did that mean she was even older than them? Was she not hundreds of years old but thousands?

And why would picking a name make her say such a thing about me? Was there something weird about just... choosing a name, if one didn't posses one already?

"But honestly, it's not that I don't understand it. I simply... don't have anyone left who I wish to give a name to anymore. Other than Vim, no one from that era is alive anymore. So there's no point," she said calmly.

I shivered, to such a degree the tremble actually reached my tail and ran down it. It felt weird, and made me suddenly rather aware of the cold. "Then what about Vim? Or does he know it, yet doesn't share it?" I asked.

"Vim doesn't know it. I like him, but not so much that I'd let him give me a name," she said.

Give a name.

She didn't choose a name herself... she had those she cherished and loved pick a name for her. Maybe that was normal back in that era.

"The protector is... unique. He hates my enemies, and even hates most of who he protects... but he also hates my gods. So I can like him, and can live amongst him, but I cannot love him. I cannot cherish him," she told me.

Hates her gods... "Doesn't he hate all gods though?" I asked.

The Clothed Woman tilted her head, and then giggled lowly. "Oh yes. He does," she said.

"Then..."

"You must not have devoted yourself to any supreme being just yet. When, or if you ever do, you'll come to understand," she said.

I nodded slowly, since I wasn't sure if I ever could.

How could you judge someone in such a way? Judging them for their actions, or morals even, was at least understandable... but their faiths? As far as I was aware there were many versions, and they all were rather similar in the end. Why would you let such minor variances change one's opinion?

"I suppose I'll have to see, if that day comes," I decided to say.

"And it will. We live too long for such things to not inevitably come sooner or later. Look at Vim, that man had resisted the Society for years yet now he's the only reason it still exists," the Clothed Woman said.

Wait what?

"Resisted?" I asked.

The Clothed Woman nodded. "Rather fiercely too. I miss that Vim. My Lords liked him back then," she said.

I gulped at the new information, but before I could process it someone knocked on the door.

Turning quickly, I felt my ears stiffen for only a moment... until I realized it was just Vim. "Renn, come give me a hand," Vim called for me out of the house.

The Clothed Woman gestured for me to oblige, so I nodded and stood from my chair. I allowed my mind to compartmentalize the new information she had just shocked me with, and quickly tried to think of all the questions I was going to want to ask later.

Stepping out of the house I found Vim walking around the edge of the building, headed behind it towards the farms.

Following him quickly, I found he had set up a small station beneath the large awning that covered a few tables and chairs. A place to work, even when it rained.

Vim had caught something. The pile of meat on the table looked a deep red color, telling me it was some kind of deer.

There was a large copper bowl on another table nearby. I could smell the salt in it.

As I walked up next to him and the table of meat, Vim tapped the table with a fingertip as he pondered something. "I'll cut them, you hook them into that little lean-to next to the house, I already prepared the hooks," Vim said with a gesture to the house. There was a little section on the back of the house that extruded, yet wasn't accessible from the inside. I had thought it had been just a storage room, but it seemed it was for drying meat.

Studying the pile of meat, I realized he had already trimmed the meat of fats. They just needed to be sliced into appropriate chunks and salted.

"Making jerky?" I asked.

"Something like that," Vim said.

"Will we be here long enough? You said only a couple nights right?" I asked as I went to stand next to him as he hefted his knife, as to begin cutting the meat slices into smaller pieces.

"They're not for us," he said simply.

Oh. Then it was for her.

Smiling softly as I went to work alongside Vim, I wondered why I was surprised.

After all he always did this. He always did something, no matter how small, for those we visited. Whether it be fixing something, or helping them out around the house. Or like Nebl, whose life he had literally saved.

Though...

Glancing at Vim as he cut the meat, I wondered why he had asked for my assistance. He usually didn't.

Something like this Vim would normally do alone, without a word. Without most of us even realizing he was doing it half the time.

Taking a piece of freshly cleaned meat from Vim, I took it over to the salt bowl and laid it on top. I repeated this process until there wasn't enough room for any others, and flipped them so the salt could cover their entire area. After a few moments I took the bowl to the little extrusion on the building. Sure enough there were three rows of metal bars hanging inside. There were dozens of hooks of varying sizes. A few even had meat already hanging on them, but not something fresh. Vim hadn't put them there; they had been hanging for days if not weeks already.

Putting the cuts of meats onto the hooks, I hurried back to repeat the process.

"How's she treating you?" Vim asked as I laid meat into the salt.

"Huh? Oh... very well. She's... odd, but no odder than most us. I feel like I could learn a lot from her," I said honestly.

"Don't learn too much," he said softly.

As he handed me another slice of meat, I hesitated as I stared at him. Had that been a genuine warning? It hadn't sounded like his typical teasing at all.

"She's old, isn't she?" I asked.

"One of the oldest left, yes," Vim said with a nod.

"I've noticed you aren't telling anyone what I'm doing," I said.

"And what are you doing?" he asked.

"Well..." I glanced at the house, and wondered if she could hear me. Vim had said she couldn't hear like we could... but the house was so close. It wasn't that big either, and she was so quiet when alone. She barely made a sound.

"You do as you will, Renn. It's my job to both allow it and to support it. Don't be ashamed of what you are," he said.

"I... I wasn't saying I was ashamed, I just worry she'll not like me if I told her certain things," I said.

"That's her problem," Vim said with a shrug.

"I don't want people to dislike me, Vim," I said. I wasn't like him, who didn't care if people hated him or not.

"Then don't let them? Go hang those up," Vim nodded to my bowl. It was full.

I grumbled as I hurried, I had a lot I wanted to say to him.

As I hung the meat, I noticed the meat that had been hanging in here originally.

It was... a little oddly colored. Was it rancid? It didn't smell or look it, but it did look weird. That wasn't lean meat. Something heavier. Maybe it was some kind of bear or large animal I'd never seen before.

Going back to the table, I put the bowl down with a small thunk. Vim glanced at me as I huffed and held my hand out for the next slice. He handed it to me gently.

"She doesn't have a name," I said.

"She used to. She abandoned it. Her gods demand the sacrifice of that, and other things, upon becoming their follower. It's a primitive religion, that luckily the humans abandoned," Vim said.

Sacrifice? I thought of the stories the witch had told me. Of pagan rituals and gods. Ones that the church hadn't even known about.

It had been why she had wanted me, after all. To use me in one of those rituals.

"Feels wrong to call her what we do," I said gently.

"Only to you. Crane was crane, because she cared not for a name. There was a member near where we met, a man named Elk. He's an elk. He too doesn't care for a name. There's a lot more like that then you think," Vim said.

"Then why not at least give her a more normal sounding name? The Clothed Woman seems so..." I shrugged as I filled the bowl once more. I needed to go hang them again.

"Other than that, I do have a question," Vim though stopped me before I could step away.

I gulped as I nodded. Usually he'd wait till I got back. "Yes?"

"Do your recognize the cross in her church?" he asked.

Blinking I glanced at the brown church. It was a little rickety and old, but well built... and the cross inside...

Yes. It had been different. It had two sections, unlike the normal one I was used to seeing. Plus the cross had a weird bend to it, as if it was trying to wrap around its self...

Vim patiently waited for my answer, and I remembered he had wanted to know if I recognized it.

Had I? Why was he asking this?

Wait no. Answer his question first before thinking of anything else... Especially since he was staring at me so seriously. His eyes were actually very focused on me, as if my answer was going to be important to him. Why'd he look so desperate sometimes? I didn't like it when he looked like that and...

"Oh." I remembered. Thanks to the look on his face. He had that same expression when he had been staring at that painting. The same worry.

"You do," he said, and I didn't like how unhappy he sounded over my doing so.

I nodded carefully. "I do. I've seen it in a painting. One that had been hanging up at the Sleepy Artist. In the lobby," I said. How come I hadn't remembered right away? I had stared at that painting, alongside all the rest, for months.

"A painting...?" Vim frowned at me.

"Definitely. You even stared at it once. I remember thinking it was odd. You had looked at it very... seriously, yet it had been normal. A normal village scene. It hadn't even been one of our paintings, of our people. It was on the second shelf, near the window," I reminded him.

Vim lowered the knife he held to the table, and I noticed he was squeezing the handle a little hard. It was protesting, and trembling in his grip. If it broke... would it cut him? Or cut me? "A painting..." he whispered.

"I could repaint it if you wanted," I said.

The knife broke.

I startled, and had to quickly grab hold of the bowl of salt and meat I had knocked over in my shock. It rolled a bit, and I nearly dropped it... but another hand grabbed hold of the bowl's upper lip as I did.

Vim held it firm, and sighed as I quickly put the bowl back into the center of the table. Once it was safe from further danger, I glanced at the man who had just startled me.

"What was that for?" I asked him.

"Sorry. I uh... Are you okay? It flung near you..." Vim looked me up and down, but there was no need to worry. The knife blade was sticking out of the grass nearby, a few feet to our right. I pointed at it for him.

He sighed as he bent down to grab it. "How's your hand?" I asked.

"Well, there goes one of my knives," Vim said with a sigh.

"That wasn't one of yours," I said. It wasn't the same silver color as the ones he had made for our journey.

"No. This was hers. But now I need to leave her mine, since I broke this one," he said, lifting the broken blade and its handle to show me.

"Oh." I nodded. That was true. In a way.

Vim gestured with his head. "Go hang those meats real quick. Let's finish," he said with a defeated tone.

"Sure..." I picked the bowl up and went to hang the meat, feeling a little weird.

As I hung the meat, I glanced around the lean-to's doorframe to stare at Vim. He was standing in front of the meat, staring at what little was left with a strange expression.

He was upset.

But more than that... he was worried. Bothered.

My comment had disturbed him... but why?

Was it that I had remembered the cross? That the cross had been in a painting?

That I offered to paint it for him again? Surely not...

As I finished hanging the meat, I groaned as I realized too much was happening too fast. The Clothed Woman had said stuff that made me far too inquisitive... and now this.

Being so curious wasn't good for me. It always got me in trouble.

Finishing up, I noticed how uncharacteristically quiet Vim was as we finished. He didn't say a word as we finished preparing the meat for drying... and cleaned up the mess we had made.

And that silence lingered even as the night drew closer, and made my curiosity turn to worry.

Worry not just for myself... but whoever or whatever had made Vim act so oddly.

It took a lot for that man to become so unsettled. So whatever it had been...

Surely it hadn't been good.

Hopefully it hadn't been me.

I wanted to make that man smile, not upset.

Or at least... I didn't want him to hate me as he did so many others.

Others were willing and able to live like that. Willing to live with those they hated, or disliked... but not me.

I didn't want to hate Vim, and I didn't want him hating me.

Honestly I didn't want Vim hating anyone. Yet...

After finishing I headed back into the house, to return to The Clothed Woman. Especially since Vim silently left me behind, returning to the forest. Maybe to go catch another deer, or maybe to pick up meat he had left behind.

As Vim left the area, disappearing into the forest... I glanced at the nearby church. I couldn't see within it since it didn't have the typical huge windows that most usually had... but I knew within was that big cross. The oddly shaped one, hanging from the ceiling and wall.

He hated that. I could tell that clearly.

I wasn't sure why... but I'd need to find out.

Both to see if I should hate it too, but also so I never became whatever it represented. So that his hate would never be directed towards me.

Hopefully the Clothed Woman would understand... but if she didn't...

Well...

That was just a price I was willing to pay, for his affection.