VII. Udder Chaos

“Hand it over, Cain!” Tawny called out, pointing a cutlass at the skeleton.

“Over my dead body,” Cain replied as he drew her blade away with his own, “which is to say—never!”

“How about you give ze chest to me, Sawyair~?” Winn cooed. She tried to naturally strike a sexy pose while still aiming a sword at him, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. 

“Nay! I think ye’ve got enough chest already!” Cain dismissed her.

Winn’s face scrunched. “That’s not fair! I deserve the treasure, I’m prettier than all of you combined!” 

“Between me and the skeleton, I’m doing most of the work, right?” Tawny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! You're not the rotting corpse…” Winn assured her.

“Speaking of…” the jester asked, noticing that said rotting corpse was gone. She looked to the distance and spotted him hauling ass with a sword in one hand and the chest in the other. 

“Oh godsdammit—” Tawny sighed before she started to run after him.

Winn trailed behind, wheezing. “Slow down, you two! I can’t run with these hips!” 

Cain looked behind himself and shrieked, picking up his pace.

They were all so focused on the treasure, they almost didn’t notice the sacrificial ceremony going on.

“And the goddess Masaka said to the people—”

The rock priest tried to give a sermon, explaining to the crowd of fellow rock monsters how they’ve had nothing but bad weather because someone (now sacrificed) had called the goddess Masaka a mean name. However, nobody could really hear what he was saying, since the sacrifice wouldn’t shut the hell up. 

“Hey, you bunch of fuckin’ igneous idiots! Get me the hell off this godsdamned slab RIGHT NOW!” the sacrifice screamed. She kicked her feet against the rock she was tied to like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“AND THE GODDESS OF MASAKA SAID TO THE PEOPLE—” the priest yelled over her. 

“If any of you blocky bastards even lay a SHALE on me, I swear to gods!” she barked at one of the stone monsters who got a little too close for her comfort.

Having finally had enough, the rock priest leaned over and laid his blocky, rectangular hand over the sacrifice’s mouth. “AND THE GODDESS OF MASAKA SAID—” 

BANG! BANG!

The sounds of gunshots echoed throughout the island. Everyone in the audience, including the priest, excluding the sacrifice, ducked down. More gunshots followed, along with the clanking of swords and expletive-laden yelling. The sacrifice’s pointy ears shot up whenever she saw a skeleton run by. 

“SAWYER! SAWYER! HELP ME! SAWYER!” Majel screamed.

“I can’t, Maje! I got treasure in me hands and two pains in me ass!” Cain bellowed as he took a shot behind him. 

“You piece of—GET BACK HERE! SAWYER! ” Majel called out to no avail.

An afroed pirate and a skunk with a beehive hairstyle ran past, holding cutlasses and pistols of their own. The skunk took a shot at the skeleton to no avail.

“WINN! TAWNY! GET ME OUT OF HERE,” the sacrifice pleaded. 

“Ooh, sorry, kitty!” Tawny grimaced as she zoomed by. “I’m a little busy right now! Apologies!”

The priest threw the slab he was reading from on the ground. “That’s it! Just—bring out the ceremonial dagger already!”

A rock person to the priest’s right handed him a large, jagged blade carved out of stone. It wasn’t too big compared to the priest… but to Majel, its shadow made it look like night had come early.

“D’ANNA—wherever the hell you are—help me!” the sacrifice yelled. 

“Crap, crap, crap…” D’anna muttered under her breath as she scoured throughout the island’s dense jungle, both Majel-less and Cain-less. The sun was getting low and her knees were starting to buckle from all the walking.

“Hellooo? Captain? Majel?” she called. Around her, hidden by dense, thick leaves, she heard an array of sounds—the roar of some feline beast (sounding similar to Majel whenever she’s sober), the “Oooh, ooh, ooh” of a monkey, the squawking of a bird… 

…and a moo. 

D’anna’s pointed ears shot up in alarm. Cows were her favorite animal—which was fortunate, since she happened to run a struggling dairy farm before turning to piracy.  She was so enthused to hear a mooing that her immediate expression wasn’t joy or excitement, but rather, a “too-good-to-be-true” alertness. She slowly stepped towards the sound and saw a rotund cow with a huge, veiny udder. 

It looked towards the elf and said, “Milk me, D’anna.” 

“Pardon?” D’anna said, taking a step back. She put a hand on her hilt.

“D’anna—” 

“Stop saying my name!” 

“Why? Do I frighten you? I thought you would be used to talking to cows. You did it all the time, back at the farm…” 

“Yeah, but, I talked to them, not with them!”

The cow sighed. “I’m appearing to you for a reason.” 

“That being…?”

It lifted a hoof and gestured towards its enlarged udder. “As you can see, my udder is… nearing maximum capacity. I’m afraid that I’ll burst if you don’t milk me.”

D’anna didn’t reply. She just squirmed. 

“Please. I chose you for your… expertise. I’m a big fan of yours.”

“You are?” 

“Oh, yes… I admire the way you treat your stock like family, the personalities you’ve given to each of your cows and the complicated, interwoven interpersonal dynamics you’ve assigned onto them…” The cow shook her head, “Janice does not deserve friends like Judith and Christine.” 

D’anna reflected for a second. “Well, then I’d… I’d like to know who I’m going to milk, then.” 

The cow paused for a second to think. “I am the goddess Masaka taking on a bovinical form.”

“I don’t think ‘bovinical’ is a real word…” 

“Yes it is. I’m a goddess, I can do whatever I please. Look,” she said before stomping her hoof on the ground twice. “There, now ‘bovinical’ is a word. Go look at a dictionary.” 

“Alright, I get it! Just… what are you the goddess of, exactly?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, just in case I help out the goddess of torture and pestilence or something.”

“If you helped out the goddess of torture and pestilence, don’t you think that their blessing would prevent you from ever being tortured or diseased?” 

D’anna was gonna say something but had trouble getting the words out.

“But you need not worry, for I am the goddess of life and fertility.” She pointed between D’anna’s legs. “Like, if you want, I can make you extra fertile.” 

D’anna scowled and shielded between her legs with a hand. “I’d rather you not do that. And… ugh, man…!” 

“What?” 

“I’ve spent my entire life worshipping Vedeckai! So all that time praying and all those sacrifices were for a different cow goddess of life and fertility?” 

“I wouldn’t say ‘different…’” 

“Oh, so—”

“More like ‘not even real.’”

“...dammit...”

The cow grunted, kneeling from the pain. “Elf! We must not waste any more time!” 

D’anna took a breath and kneeled down next to her. She lifted her hands towards the udders, but Masaka grunted. 

“No, no, take off your gloves… I want to feel the dexterity of your fingers…” she said between breaths.

D’anna sighed and pulled off her gloves. Her feelings of uncertainty were beginning to take on the shape of annoyance. She held onto the udders and began to rhythmically pull. She was so experienced when it came to milking cows that the process was almost like breathing—it required little to no concentration. 

“D’anna!” Masaka screamed. 

“What!?” the elf screamed back.

“Faster! Oh my god—go faster!!”

“Anything to make this go by quicker…” D’anna grumbled as she began to speed up. Eventually, the milk shot out like a geyser, leaving crater-esqe dents in the muddy earth. The process lasted for a dozen seconds straight before the well ran dry. D’anna stood up and reconsidered her thoughts on cows now. 

Masaka stood on her hind legs and put an arm on D’anna’s shoulder. “I must thank you, D’anna. I’ve never been milked like that before in my life.” 

“I don’t wanna know aaanything more about that, Masaka.” 

“I understand. Now, I shall repay you with my blessing.”

“Don’t make me extra fertile!” D’anna whined. 

“Ugh, ‘blessing’ as in that I’ll look out for you!” 

“Promise you won’t make me extra fertile?” 

“Gods! Yes, I promise! It’ll just be a little blessing to get you and your crew out of the pinch you’re all in.” 

“Oh god, are they in danger?” 

“The cat is definitely gonna die, the skeleton not so much. Now…” she said before locking into D’anna’s eyes. Suddenly, the elf’s vision became nothing but light. Her head began to feel like Masaka's udder had been—near bursting, as if her brain was becoming too big for her skull to contain. Her eyes burned as she saw visions of a dreadlocked ghost screaming at her, a man transforming into a pile of tentacles, and a bespeckled, wide-eyed man in a white coat covered in what looked like snow. These images repeated in such quick succession that they began to form one blurry image—herself, bare, with her eyes closed and her head looking straight down. Then, she looked up and found herself surrounded by zombies. 

She was back on the Festering Wound. The rotting crew looked at her in confusion, but D’anna was even more so.

“Uhh…” she began, “just… stay docked! Acting captain’s orders!” 

Before stepping onto the gangplank, she turned around. “And don’t go chasing anyone in the meantime! Please?” 

“Yaaaghhhh…” one of the zombies groaned at her. Its jaw fell onto the floor. 

“Great!” she smiled as she stepped off the ship. She ran down the island, her gut—for whatever reason—telling her that she needed to run towards the southern beach. 

“TO MASAKA!”

But before the priest could lower the dagger into Majel, D’anna ran up to them screaming at him to stop.

“In the name of Masaka, you cannot go through with this sacrifice!” she huffed. The goddess might’ve blessed her intuition, but certainly not her lungs.

“WHY not?” asked the priest. 

D’anna stopped in her tracks. She hadn’t thought of a reason beforehand.

“Uhh…” she began, but suddenly, the instinct. “Because… do you think that a goddess of life would want sacrifices?”

“Yes, she would,” he said before raising the dagger again. 

“No, a loss of life is against everything she stands for! Remember how she’s the goddess of life and fertility? To please Masaka, you must create life, not destroy it!” 

“I—w-what? Get out of here!” 

“Don’t tell her to shut up!” Majel yelled to the priest. “You’re just mad that she's right! I heard your stupid sermon—you guys sacrificed a shit ton of people and you’re still having all this shitty weather! Doesn’t that make you wanna re-evaluate anything?”

The priest looked at the dagger and, with an acidic face, handed it back to his assistant. “Fine!” 

Majel’s face scrunched up with disgust. “Oh, god, let me go before you guys start your sedimentary cycle!”

“Obviously! Do you think we would want you watching that?” 

“...I mean, some people—” she began.

“Get them out of here already!” the priest screamed.

Rubbing her sore wrist, Majel looked at D’anna as they walked. “That was some quick thinking there, elf. I knew you were the religious type, but I didn’t think that hocus-pocus would come in handy someday!” 

“Thank you!” D’anna smiled. “Hey, do you know where the captain is by any chance?” 

“Last time I saw him, he was hauling both ass and treasure from Winn and Tawny. He never rendezvoused back to the Wound?”

“No, it was just me and the crew.” 

“And you left the zombies alone?” 

“...yeah…?” 

“D’anna! They’re undead cannibals who act on instinct! What makes you think that they could be by themselves for all this time?!” 

D’anna looked down like a puppy who got yelled at. “...because I asked them to stay still…?” 

Majel sighed. “Let’s just—OH MY GODS!” 

“Cain… wait… up…!” Tawny wheezed. Running for an extended amount of time on a humid island wearing a large coat was, perhaps, not the smartest idea she’d had. Winn was faring no better. She was practically crawling through the sand, wheezing and wiping her sweaty cowlick out of her face. 

However, Cain was still just as full of energy. Although the weight of the chest encumbered him, stamina was no issue if you have no lungs. He looked behind at them and cackled. 

“What’s wrong, ye bags o’ meat? Trouble keepin’ up?” he teased. 

“You’ll never… get away from this… Cain…!” Tawny sighed.

“‘With.’ I’ll never get away with this, ye mean.” 

She shook her head. “...Whatever… you’re still… overpowered…”

“No I’m not, here comes me crew now!” Cain smiled as he looked into the distance to see two figures huffing and puffing towards him. 

“Captain!! The ship, it’s gone!” D’anna yelled, passing him by.  

“What!?” Cain screamed.

“They saw a ship in the distance and they’re thinkin’ with their stomachs!” Majel yelled as she pointed to the east. The skeleton watched as the Festering Wound’s front sails were lowered and heard the sounds of the anchor being raised. 

“Shit! Shit! SHIT!” he hissed. He darted towards his ship, but fell behind to D’anna and Majel, which was a first. They started to gain distance while he trailed behind, the weight of the chest causing his steps to be heavy and uneven.

“Captain!” D’anna yelled. 

“Let the treasure go, dumbass!” Majel screamed.

“And let these two have it?!” Cain replied, gesturing towards Winn and Tawny, who were now both laying on the sand. Resting, passed out, or dead, nobody could really tell. 

“Either you’ll lose the chest or you’ll spend all its potential profit buying a new ship!” Majel said. “D’anna and I won’t be able to make it in time, and you won’t, either, with that stupid godsdamned box!”

Cain cursed to himself—he hated it when that damn cat made sense. He haphazardly tossed the chest to the side, making sure to purposely throw it into the water so there was a chance that it would be washed away before Winn and Tawny could get to it. 

He sprinted towards the Wound at a brisk pace and, right before it started to turn, jumped onto the ship’s ladder. Majel and D’anna couldn’t hear what he was yelling to the crew, but there was a lot of slapping and pointing at things. The ship slowed down and tilted back starboard. 

“Majel! D’anna! Get yer bovinical ass over here already!” he called out. D’anna grumbled.

Hours later… 

CLICK! 

The lock on the chest, having been triggered by a thin stick, popped upward. Tawny tossed the stick to the side and looked at Winn for approval. The skunk nodded, signaling for Tawny to open the chest. The jester took a breath and creaked open the lid.

Inside were two granite figurines. They were both fertility statuettes, with stocky builds and ample features. One had curly hair tied into a large ponytail with thin, pointed ears. The other had windswept hair, slightly-larger-yet-still-pointy-ears, and a scar-like line down what was presumably its face. 

Winn held her face in her hands and whimpered. “Gods. Dammit.”

Tawny picked one up and inspected it. “Do these… remind you of anyone?” 

Winn did not reply, since she was too busy kicking the sand and yelling an expletive in a language Tawny did not speak.

"Oh, gods, I probably should'nt be touching these without gloves..." the jester realized.

The skunk sat in the sand and began to pout, picking one up. “Do you think they’re worth anything…?” 

Tawny pointed behind to the giant clusters of shaking boulders in the distance. “Maybe to those guys, perhaps…”