The two kids had to be carried back home, too frightened to properly move their legs on their own. Although the little girl, Ira, bore no injuries on her body, simply in a state of shock that left her without movement, her brother was not as fortunate. At some point in the battle, either during or before we had arrived on the scene, his leg—Jay's leg—had received a harsh injury. 

Well, to say it was harsh might be an exaggeration.

Connie: "I mean, seriously, it's just a scratch!"

John: "To you, maybe! Come on, he's barely my age. What do you expect?"

Jay: "I can hear you both..."

Connie: "Listen closely, then! The bleeding stopped just as quickly as you got that scrape, it probably only stings a little bit, and it's definitely not something to be whining over..."

Jay: "But I've never been this hurt!"

John: "He's got no frame of reference. As far as he can tell, the pain he's got is horrible."

Connie: "Well then he's got a quick lesson to learn, especially in a place like the Great Barrier."

Ira: "Mister White—"

The little girl tapped my cheek, laying in a princess carry in my arms. Her face bore a mean scowl as she glared daggers at Connie, and her next statement only served to conclude those obvious feelings.

Ira: "—Your friend is a real jerk..."

Connie: "I heard that!"

Jay: "Good!"

The brother, Jay, meanwhile, was being held up on Connie's back as she supported his legs, bending forward slightly to allow him a better grip around her neck and shoulders. It was a strange feeling, to suddenly be the elder of the group, having to carry one of the younger kids. Of course, if one were to look at our group from the outside, they would only see a woman carrying a child, and a different child at around the same age carrying an even smaller child. To outsiders, we probably looked like a mom and her three kids.

Connie: "But we don't even look related—any of us! I'm Asian, he's got white hair, you've got dark skin, and the girl's probably the only one who looks like she belongs in this Barrier."

John: "Hm? Like she belongs...?"

Connie: "I just mean that she's got a real 'basic' look to her. Brown hair, blue eyes, fair skin—meanwhile, the rest of us are all different in exactly those facets. White hair, narrow eyes, dark skin."

Jay: "You're starting to sound kind of mean..."

Connie: "No, I—look, I don't mean it that way. There's nothing wrong with any of us, I'm just saying that we definitely don't look like we belong together. Even less so that we're family."

John: "Aren't families supposed to look different?"

Connie: "What kind of family did you have?!"

Hm, that's a good question.

I was thinking the same thing.

The hike over to the nearest village wasn't very long, but the additional weight of carrying a whole child made it feel like an eternity. Eventually, however, we made it to the front gates of the village, and luckily, Ira and Jay pointed us in the direction of their home. As it turned out, they lived in this village, so very close to the forest where they had almost been lost forever.

They would have been too young to gather proper transportation, so it makes sense that they lived so close by the forest, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.

John: "Like...why even build a place this close to a Monster that dangerous?"

Connie: "You're acting like the Monsters have specified territories...even patterns."

John: "Do they not?"

That question seemed to take her aback, confused as to how I had even gotten here in the first place, without knowing anything as basic as what a Monster even was.

John: "I kind of just assumed they were fairytales."

Connie: "Nope. Real as day, here. All of them."

John: "You mean, that isn't the only type of Monster?"

Connie: "Not by a long shot! Even in just this Barrier alone, it scratches only the surface of what you could find in this hellhole."

John: "This Barrier..."

Connie: "Monsters like that one don't have dedicated names, unlike a Baubas or a Siren. No, Monsters like that, with no true history behind them, rely on localized names to identify them with. Annie calls them Smack Palms—I don't have to explain why, right?"

John: "No, it makes sense."

???: "Ahh, there you two are!"

A woman approached us from behind, her two kids and a husband following closely with her. Though we had nearly been on our way back home, the woman seemed to have a different plan for us.

Connie: "Wait a minute, you're the—"

Ira: "Hi again, Mister White!"

???: "I do apologize for the trouble my kids gave you..."

A woman with brown hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, very similar to her daughter; she approached us right at the exit of the village, and invited us with a reward for saving her children.

Mother: "...So I would like to offer you both a free dinner, at our home. Would you please accept?"

Connie and I looked between each other with confusion, then annoyance, and then a finality of relief. On the one hand, a free dinner with the people who seemed very nice to us—it didn't sound like such a bad night. On the other hand,

Connie: "Jess is gonna kill me..."

It would take up the whole night, and we were already late past our curfew.

Connie: "Wait, she's gonna kill me for sure!"

And, when the time finally came to feast on our free dinner, it was—

John: "Why is it so huge?!"

Well, it was practically a feast in and of itself. On just the small table, where six chairs had to be sat closely around each other in a circle, seven whole dishes had been neatly and tightly placed down, steaming hot and freshly made.

Mother: "Eat up, little ones!"

It was almost hard to believe that our invitation was so last minute. Had she planned on eating this without Connie and I, or did she seriously just fix the recipe to fit in two more people?!

All: "Thanks for the meal!"

Even outside of the Barriers, it was common courtesy to display a general thanks for the meal. So, when the family and Connie began that simple enchant, I was no slower than them to follow. Giving such gratitude served multiple purposes; the main purpose was to thank the chef, who in this case had been the family's mother. It was also meant to give thanks to whatever multitude of people had aided in bringing the food to the table, all the way from the raising of the meat and the farming of the vegetables. Finally, it was to show our appreciation for whichever deity had watched over our world, regardless of who it was.

There used to be very many theories on which Gods were real, if any, and this simple pre-dinner gratitude was a way to show our faith in any and all that were true and benevolent.

To put it simply, you didn't want to be wrong.

It's not like that! Deities were very mysterious for us, and so, to show that were grateful for everything given to us, without showing disrespect by offering that gratitude to a false God, we simply thanked everyone involved. It's got nothing to do with being right or wrong!

Interesting...

Mother: "So then—John, was it?"

John: "Mm—that's right, Mrs. Sonra!"

Mother: "I really can't thank you enough for saving my little children—and you as well, Miss Kaze."

Connie: "Please, you can call me Connie."

Mother: "Are you sure? Is that alright?"

Connie: "Of course it is."

At the time, I mostly brushed that interaction aside, believing it to mean that Connie had raised quite the reputation in the village. It made the most sense, after all. But then, a question had cut through the nice atmosphere, causing the downfall of what I had once believed to be a good break in my life.

Mother: "Well, I suppose this is a question for you both, but...where is your family?"

John: "—ghk—KFUKFUG!"

A question that made me spit up my food, barely holding it in my mouth—how long had it been since a question like that had been asked of me? Either way, it caught me far too off guard to answer immediately. Even after the food had settled in my mouth properly, all I could for a few moments was to simply stare back at her, as if formulating some sort of answer. And yet, no answer ever came to mind.

It's not as if there was no answer at all. However, to ask that, regardless of intent, was far too ignorant of one's situation.

Mother: "I-I'm sorry, I really have no place in asking."

Connie: "Hey, come on. You alright, John?"

John: "No, no. I'm fine, thank you."

After I pounded my chest a few times just to make sure my statement was true, I sifted through my pockets to pull out the same thing that had protected Ira in the forest.

Ira: "Hey! It's the little crystal thingy!"

A small green crystal, like two 7-sided cones stuck to a central orb, with a dim glow—that was the artifact which I carried with me ever since the beginning of my journey. I held it up above the table, in plain sight for everyone to see. 

John: "I don't want to say a whole lot about it, but...well, this is a gift from someone special to me. She said that as long as it was with me, I would be safe from anything."

Jay: "Woah, really?! It's that strong?"

John: "It's not like I've actually seen it do anything, but...yeah, I believe it is."

The dinner closed out with an awkward amount of apologies from the mother, while everyone else insisted that she was never in the wrong for her question. In truth, it did sting a bit to have that question brought up by a stranger, but there was likely a fair reason behind it. After all, this is the world of Monsters that I've stumbled into. Without a family, or at least a solid group of friends, it was easy to see how quickly you could become Monster food.

Still, the question lingered in the air between Connie and I, as my answer wasn't exactly very fulfilling. So, when the opportunity arose, she took a chance.

Connie: "You know, the camp is still a good hour or two away."

John: "Yeah, it's pretty far."

Connie: "...So, you got any stories to—"

John: "You're really bad at subtlety!"

Connie: "Huh?!"

The silence between us grew once more, with Connie's face twisting and contorting between emotions, wondering how to break the tension of the atmosphere. And then, suddenly,

John: "I just...wanted to be a hero."

Connie: "—Huh?"

Something inside of me snapped. What I wished to cling to the depths of my heart forever, until it could be resolved, suddenly came bursting out to a person who I had only recently met—a person who, upon our first meeting, was extremely hostile towards my very existence.

But if this day had taught me anything, it was that the mind of Connie Kaze worked a lot like a turtle when it's retreated into its shell. With enough patience and care, the turtle will emerge, no longer guarded by the hard outer protection of an unnecessary barrier.

Well, to be fair, I suppose the turtle had evolved to have that shell for a very good reason. The same could likely be said for Connie, and why she had been so cold to me when we first met. 

Still, I continued, hoping that she, of all people, could understand me.

John: "We've got a couple of hours, right?"

Connie: "Uh, yes. Yes, that's right."

John: "Do you...have a couple of hours to listen?"

Connie: "Anything you need."

A warm smile emerged, as rare as life itself. She wasn't often so positive, or at least outwardly so, but that smile always did more to calm my nerves than anything else in the world. If she, of all people, could smile, then so could I.

Do you think you're ready to explore that part of yourself? It's only been a few hours.

...No, I need a bit more time. I remember it all now, but I'd rather find the right words for it.

Not to mention, I doubt you relinquished everything to Connie Kaze, isn't that right?

I kept a few things back, yeah. If it's alright, I'd like to postpone that story for another time.

Any time at all. When you're ready, choose the right moment to come back to it.

By the time we had made it back to the peak of the mountain—or at least where our campsite was—the moon had peaked high above the Great Barrier that encompassed our sky. The midnight light beamed upon the flattened cliffside, giving way for the three silhouettes of our friends to notice our own approaching silhouettes. From then, the three voices called out on after another, with worry, confusion, and indifference.

???: "You two! Where were you?!"

???: "Did you get the fish?"

???: "Connie...your sword...it's broken!"

???: "Uh, kid...why's your jacket all...bloodied?"

???: "The blood! Why is there so much of it?!"

Ah, that's right. These were the people I cared about. And in turn, they cared for me.