“Local monster hunter, owner of popular up-start Side Quests* accepts hunt for the troll terror!”
“The fact that they had this headline ready to print the very next day…” the wolf ran his fingers through his unruly hair, dropping the paper onto the cafe table.
“They’ve grown accustomed to your work, I’d say. Plus, it looks good for your business; take it from a fellow entrepreneur.” Toh, the namesake of Toh’s Beans Coffee & Bakery, said with zero doubt or uncertainty in his voice.
It was another sunny Sunday afternoon, the sky completely void of clouds, meaning that their giant monster wouldn’t be poking its head out anytime soon. At least not until night fell. It had, however, become active the previous night, stomping through the woods to the east now, though there were no sightings within town, much to the relief of its residents.
The town of Brickhedge and the surrounding counties had all been put on high alert, a rare occurrence in this day and age. Monsters within city limits were rare, and the ones that posed an actual danger to beast and property alike were once-a-year events, if that.
Curfews had been put in place, forbidding anybeast from being outside after nightfall. Police presence had been increased as well, with patrols happening around the clock in a fifty-mile radius, emanating outwards from Brickhedge.
“I have to admit, though, I miss when the only beasts that knew about the town were the actual residents themselves,” Toh declared, sighing, “The extra business I’ve been getting has been great, but all these new faces are…” He glanced at the leather-clad characters sitting in the corner. “—unsettling.”
“Stop being such a puss, Toh,” Desmond said, appearing from the backroom holding an unmarked cardboard box. He began stocking the small shelf before the counter with reusable ‘Toh’s Beans’ cups.
“What are you up to, Dessy? Not used to seeing you work without being asked.” The cat said, peering over the counter at his helper mole.
“Restocking your shitty reusable coffee cups since you don’t seem too inclined to do it yourself. You need to set a separate rack of these on the counter as well and get them in front of the customer’s eyes. The out-of-towners are looking for any souvenir they can get to prove they were here.” Desmond looked up at Advrik and wriggled his nose tentacles, smirking.
“Are those cups really selling that fast, Des?”
“Sure are, just not out of the store. Don’t tell Toh, but I took a few boxes home to sell on eBay.” The mole proudly declared, no shame in his voice. His nose tentacles bent themselves in a way that mimicked someone placing their hands on their hips. “Selling them at almost three times their going price.”
“Desmond!” The wolf started—
“Relax, Toh’s getting his money back out of it and then some. He’s just not aware of the method by which he’s earning it.” The mole patted the bottom of the backpack that he carries with him to and from work every day. “The only town I have ever been in where I felt I could actually carry cash around on me and not worry about being mugged for it.
5pm had rolled around, and Desmond’s replacement for the evening shift had come in, relieving him of his duties. The wolf and mole had decided to just walk around Main together, with nowhere in particular in mind other than to just see the town in the afternoon light.
Dried leaves now flooded the streets and as large piles in any open grassy area one could find to rake them up into. Residents of Brickhedge liked to work and operate as one big entity, so if one beast had an empty yard, then leaves could be moved there for either young ones to play in, for compost purposes, or simply to spread across their own yard for the smaller lifeforms to feed off of.
Needless to say, there were no Private Property or Keep Off Grass signs to be found. Only Leaves Welcome! And Compost Pile signs.
Advrik wore a thin, grey, long-sleeve shirt under a black t-shirt, the Nordic rune for ‘Wolf’ printed top to bottom in one large glyph that took up the right side of the shirt. His Y2K pants still not having softened up after spending years in storage. He may have been a thirty-something grey wolf in 2024, but he looked like he’d just walked off the set of a late 90s high school horror flick.
Desmond strolled alongside him, sporting his staple blue overalls, but the undershirt changed up to a simple burgundy sweatshirt. A fashion sense the mole did not have.
The wolf’s phone dinged with a notification, catching the mole’s attention. While he waited for the wolf to type up a reply, the two paused beside one of the black iron streetlights.
“It’s none of your business, Desmond. Just drop it and forget it.” The mole repeated to himself under his breath, completely forgetting the wolf’s impeccable sense of hearing.
“What’s none of your business, Des?” The wolf asked.
“Fuck. Oh, I—“
Advrik smiled, realizing what was going on. “You’re curious about about me and Brigid, aren’t you?” He was learning Desmond’s tactics. You could only talk to and ask the beast about his life so many times before he eventually cracked and pretended to show interest in yours.
“You’re partly responsible for us getting together in the first place, so it’s only natural you’d be curious how your plan worked out in the long run. Now, c’mon, let’s grab some dinner, and I’ll tell ya. My treat.” Advrik smiled, flashing an impressive set of fangs and a jaw lined with equally impressive teeth. It’d been no wonder that the fox had fallen for him the way she did. Had he not had his warm personality to fall back on, she could have at least claimed the former had gotten her.
The waitress at the corner bistro, otherwise known as Brock’s Bistro and Butcher, took the pair’s order and then disappeared behind the counter. The mere existence of two businesses within one building had made Advrik seriously consider adding a second specialty to Side Quests. Toh with his cafe and bakery, and Brock with his bistro and butcher shop. What else could his own venture benefit from?
Rainbow Pride flags adorned the western corners of the building, while American flags claimed the opposite side. Brock was openly gay and proud of it, and nobeast would try and change him otherwise. Not that they could, as hard as Miribel Oniker tried on a weekly basis, according to other churchgoers who attended services with the old, hateful mouse.
“Since asking questions about others is so hard for you, I’m going to make this interesting for the both of us,” Advrik said, taking a sip of the ice water that the waitress had started them out with.
Desmond’s tentacles gripped the straw and, like the expert he was at maneuvering them, positioned the end of the utensil in his mouth with ease.
“Eww, mommy, look, that rat is drinking through his nose!” A young goat in the next stall over said, this one and the mother that reprimanded him both having your typical northern accent. Clearly not part of the Swedish group from the other day.
“Don’t be an ass about this. You know I couldn’t give two actual shits about—“ He’d started, but Advrik cut him off with the wag of his red-padded finger.
“Nuh-uh, you can’t say that anymore, Des. You’ve clearly shown you care, so drop the act, all right? I won’t tell anyone else.”
But the mole looked back at him, beady black eyes magnified greatly by the glasses that were nestled atop the beast’s snout. “All right, fine, but they won’t be deep questions. I need material for my web story.”
The wolf nodded, saying, “Fine with me. No names, though, remember?”
“Of course, Mr. Cromwell. Not a fuckin’ word about Arthur and Autumn’s true identities.”
The waitress returned with two platters: Advrik’s containing a Ruben sandwich, speared and held in place by a toothpick, along with a side of crispy seasoned french fries and some coleslaw.
Desmond’s platter had two loose meat sandwiches, with hushpuppies taking the place of the fries.
“All right then, ready when you are,” Advrik said, taking a bite out of his sandwich, careful not to let any of the sauerkraut fall out the back.
“Are you happy?”
“Very,” Said the wolf.
“Is she happy?”
“I’d be lying if I said Yes with absolute certainty, but yeah, I think so.” That question having caught the wolf off guard.
“Have you held hands?” Des took a bite of his first sandwich, resulting in the exact opposite of Advrik’s attempt. Half of the sandwich had found itself in a big, sloppy mess on the table.
“Of course.”
“Have you kissed?”
The wolf nodded, “The night we had dinner at my place. You were there.”
“I was too busy worrying about getting raped by that fucking lion to notice,” Desmond said a bit too loudly, catching more than a few sets of eyes from other diners.
“Last I heard, you and Callista had a nice long conversation over the phone, so you can stop acting like she’s harassing you now, too. That applies to everybeast, by the way. Callista is our only doctor, and she doesn’t need you spreading false info like that about her.
“Fine, fine, fine!” The mole said, spitting flakes of chewed hushpuppies in the process. “Can we get back to the questions already?!”
“The mic stand is all yours, Des.”
Wiping his mouth, then letting one of his tentacles hold the tissue for him, the mole took another quick bite of his sandwich. “Have you touched her boobs yet?”
The wolf choked on his sandwich, scattering bits of whatever monster meat Brock used for the carvings, along with mustard-covered bread and sauerkraut, all across the table.
“Hey,” the mole said, “You didn’t set any restrictions in the beginning.”
Advrik’s ears flattened slightly, his cheeks rushing with blood in embarrassment. He could tell by the smirk on the mole’s face that he was enjoying how uncomfortable the question had made him.
“Have you at least looked at them? Come on, as limp as my noodle has been all my life, even I can recognize somebeast as special as Brigid! Foxes don’t ever come fully loaded like that, and you know it.” The mole spoke under his breath, commenting on his friend’s girlfriend one-on-one, which was one thing, but including the public in such remarks was too dirty a deed even for somebeast like Desmond Mogu.
The sun had rapidly fallen outside, and the curfew was fast approaching as the beasts remaining inside the bistro quickly wrapped up their dinners, some choosing foil, others choosing butcher paper. Both were provided free by Brock himself, who had closed up the butcher’s side of the building an hour ago.
“All right, final question,” the mole stated, checking his phone. Almost seven-thirty. “Do you love her?”
The wolf’s ruby red eyes lit up at the question, having been something he himself had tangled with as recently as yesterday. Judging by the mole’s expression, he, too, knew that it was a heavy hitter that was too open-ended. Saying Yes without hesitation could be seen as a good thing, but also be taken as immature and something said out of the throws of passion during the early days of a new relationship.
Not saying anything at all was the same double-edged sword, a blade he wasn’t keen on treading right now.
“I—“ he started, getting cut off when the entire building shook. Once, then even more so a second time just a few seconds later.
Outside, beasts were fleeing in terror, screaming and heading towards the town hall.
A goat with long blond hair burst into the building, seeking refuge as a car came smashing into a street lamp outside. Breathing heavily, his eyes centered on the wolf and mole, “Troll!!!” he yelled as a terrifying, guttural roar ripped through Main.
Tasslehoff had come to town.
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