ExFic 3: Odd Jobs

Katrina didn’t really want the job. The only reason she even came to the field that day was to please Mom and Dad. Katrina knew what she wanted to do, and they couldn’t tell her what to do, but she couldn’t just say no to the couple who raised her from childbirth. Fortunately, the job was only temporary.

“So, this is just until the normal guy gets back, right?” Katrina asked.

“A-yup,” the farmer replied, resplendent in his dirt-saturated dungarees and patchy straw hat.

“Caw,” added the black bird on his plaid-shrouded shoulder.

“And all me and Wearwolf have to do is drag this plowshare up and down the field?” Katrina inquired further.

“A-yup,” the farmer replied. He took his corncob pipe out of his mouth and dumped out the used-up contents.

“Caw,” his bird added.

“And when does the normal guy get back?” Katrina asked.

“The doc says he’ll be laid up for about a week,” the farmer explained as he refilled his pipe and lit it. “Onnacounta the accident.”

“Caw,” the bird elucidated.

“This plowshare appears to be far heavier than one man or wolf can haul,” Wearwolf pointed out.

“Yeah, where is the normal guy’s MultiPet partner?” Katrina inquired, noticing the field was devoid of animal life aside from herself, Wearwolf, the farmer, and his Sicrow. “I know we probably wouldn’t be able to work as effectively, but…”

“Tractabull’s laid up, too,” the farmer answered. “Onnacounta the accident.”

“Caw,” Sicrow concurred.

“And there’s no one else on the farm that can handle this?” Katrina asked.

“They’s laid up, too,” the farmer explained. “Onna…”

“…Counta the accident,” Katrina finished.

“Caw,” Sicrow added.

“A-yup,” the farmer confirmed.

“Must’ve been some accident,” Katrina noted.

“A-yup,” the farmer agreed. “The doctor says I shouldn’t even be up myself, onnacounta the accident.”

“Caw,” Sicrow concurred.

“Right,” Katrina said uncertainly. “I hope ya’ll get better soon.”

“So do I,” the farmer said. “I can’t run this place all by my lonesome, and we’re working with a skeleton crew as it is.”

“Okay, I guess I better get to work, then,” Katrina said. “Unless there’s something else I need to know, on account of the accident.”

“Caw,” replied Sicrow.

“None that I can think of,” the farmer said, rubbing his chin. “Although, you might wanna be careful and look out for arms or legs or somethin’ stickin’ outta the dirt. We ain’t found Myrtle yet, and I don’t think I have to tell you why.”

“Caw,” Sicrow repeated.

“Lovely,” Katrina remarked.

Once the farmer was out of their hair, Katrina and Wearwolf set about the task of plowing the field. The first order of business, of course, was…

“How the Hell do we pull this thing?” Katrina wondered aloud. “It’s huge!”

“That did not appear to concern the farmer,” Wearwolf noted. “Perhaps it is not as heavy as it would appear.”

Katrina hefted the yoke and attempted to pull the plowshare on her own. After much straining, the plowshare had failed to move any discernable distance.

“Nope,” Katrina said, letting the yoke drop. “It’s heavier. And I’ve seen the Tractabull they use on this farm. It hauls this thing like its got nothing better to do… Cripes, I can’t imagine what could’ve put that beast into traction…”

“Clearly, chimeric fusion will be key to our success,” Wearwolf pointed out. “Our strength as one will be much greater than when separate.”

“Yeah, and we’ll need all the practice we can get if we’re going to be Chimera Knights,” Katrina replied enthusiastically. “You ready?”

“Of course,” Wearwolf confirmed.

“Then let’s do it like on the TV!” Katrina announced. With a couple sweeping gestures, she declared, “Chimeric fusion, go!”

A bright glow enveloped Wearwolf, making him appear as a wolf-shaped mass of spectral energy. The spectral mass exploded into shards that swarmed about and coalesced around Katrina’s body. Katrina tensed while Wearwolf became fur-tufted gloves, boots, shorts, cloak, and hood on top of the jeans and sweatshirt she was already wearing. They opened their eyes and flexed their claws.

“Chimeric fusion, complete,” Wearwolf reported.

“Kinda a shame to waste such a spectacular sequence on farm work,” Katrina noted. They gave their muscles a good stretch before squatting down to pick up the yoke. It practically flew into the air and they flinched when it came back down with a thud. “Okay, note to self: Things aren’t as heavy when you’re super-strong.”

Katrina and Wearwolf picked the yoke back up and placed it on their shoulders. Their claws dug into the dirt as they pressed forward, against the weight of the plowshare. Slowly and steadily, the plowshare began to move. It was obstinate at first, like a child refusing to leave a toy store without buying anything, but persistence paid off. They soon had a slow and ponderous rhythm going as the plowshare turned up dirt behind them.

“Hey, we’re making good time,” Katrina said, watching the wake of their effort churn behind them.

“I believe the trick is to not look at the rest of the field,” Wearwolf said. “Then the task appears to be less impossible.”

“Hell yeah,” Katrina replied. “I’ve got enough false hope to get this done by sundown.”

“Sunset is only ten hours away,” Wearwolf added optimistically.

“That’s the spirit!” Katrina cheered, or at least tried to through the strain of their burden. “You know what we need? A team name!”

“What would we need a team name for?” Wearwolf inquired.

“For when we fuse,” Katrina explained, jerking the plowshare a little further along. “Separately, we’re just Katrina and Wearwolf, but together we’re something more, right? So we’ll need a name for that. Otherwise, they’re just going to call me Katrina, and I don’t think that’s fair to you.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Katrina,” Wearwolf replied.

“Yeah, and Chimera Knights always have these cool codenames,” Katrina continued. “Especially ones with armor-type pets like you. So we’ll need a cool codename, too. Something like Red Fury or Black Talon.”

“But we are neither red nor black,” Wearwolf pointed out. “We are more pink and gray than anything else.”

“It’s just an example, Wearwolf,” Katrina said. “Okay, maybe we can be something liiiiiike… Silver Claw, or maybe Moon Claw, or Slash Midnight, or…”

“These names appear to focus on the violent overmuch,” Wearwolf pointed out.

“Well, we’re going to have to sound intimidating if we’re gonna be fighting bad guys,” Katrina explained. “It’s not like we’re going to strike fear in the hearts of evildoers with names like Snowball or Creampuff.”

“Perhaps, but if we are too frightening then everyone else will have trouble trusting us,” Wearwolf argued. “I know I would not be able to trust someone named Spine Ripper or Sleep Killer.”

“Okay, so we want a good balance of pants-wetting and trustworthy,” Katrina noted. “Oh, you know what name I like? Kid Artemis. Artemis is one of my favorite Greek gods. She’s the huntress, the maiden of the silver bow, and she doesn’t let romance tie her down, neither.”

“I see how you can relate to her,” Wearwolf said.

“You don’t like it?” Katrina asked.

“It is not that I do not like it,” Wearwolf said. “I just do not identify with it personally.”

“Well, what names do you identify with?” Katrina asked.

“I do not know of many names,” Wearwolf explained. “We do not use them in the forest.”

“Then why should you care one way or another?” Katrina inquired.

“Perhaps we should stop talking and focus our energies on the task at hand,” Wearwolf suggested.

“But talking is the only thing distracting me from the searing pain in my legs!” Katrina whined. “Maybe we should take a break. How ‘bout it? It feels like we’ve been at this for hours.”

“It has only been two minutes,” Wearwolf informed.

Katrina moaned pathetically.

“I think I’m about to have an accident,” Katrina whimpered.

“Do not worry about the pain,” Wearwolf said. “If I can handle it, then there is little doubt that you can, too.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Katrina said. “You’re just being worn. It’s my muscles taking the strain.”

“Do not forget, for the moment this is my body as well,” Wearwolf reminded. “I feel the pain in our shared muscles as strongly as you do. But with every step, my confidence in our abilities grows. We are getting stronger, inch-by-inch. You may not be able to feel the increase just yet, but by the time we are finished here I would not be surprised if you could haul this plowshare as effortlessly as Tractabull.”

“Yeah,” Katrina agreed. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re not gonna quit! We’re gonna use this experience to make us stronger! We’re gonna… Hold on, I gotta stop for a second. Get off me, will ya?”

Katrina dropped the yoke and Wearwolf popped off of her, snapping back into his wolf form.

“Katrina, I thought we were going to keep going,” Wearwolf said firmly.

“Yeah, I know, but I was getting hot,” Katrina said. She pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing the tan camisole underneath, and tied around her waist. “There, much better. Let’s go.”

Fusing back together again, the two resumed their sisyphonic task. A few hours later saw them lying face down in the dirt. Occasionally, one of them would twitch, but otherwise they remained dead still.

“I think I’ve worn out muscles I didn’t even know I had,” Katrina finally complained after a long silence.

“I believe I have worn out muscles I had not even possessed,” Wearwolf replied.

“I have muscles that got worn out just watching the other muscles,” Katrina countered.

“I have muscles that were worn out just hearing about it,” Wearwolf contested.

“I wore out my Kegel muscles,” Katrina rejoined.

“What muscles are those?” Wearwolf asked.

“Never mind, forget I mentioned it,” Katrina murmured. A moment of silence later, she said, “Wearwolf, if I don’t make it…”

“Do not talk like that,” Wearwolf said. “We will make it.”

“I’m just saying,” continued Katrina, “If I don’t make it back alive…”

“No, you can tell me when we get back,” Wearwolf said. “Just hang on a while longer.”

“No, I have to say it,” Katrina insisted. “I want you to tell Rion that…”

“Tell Rion what?” asked a voice that Katrina recognized as the one she least wanted to hear. Ever. “That you’re finally ready to pledge your undying love for him and let him squeeze a couple children out of you?”

“Tell him to kick your ass to the curb the next time you come a-knockin’,” Katrina corrected. “What in Hell brings you here, Kumiho?”

“The farmer’s wife happens to be the best cook in town, so I figured I could learn a thing or two from her,” Kumiho replied. “Fastest way to a man’s heart, you know.”

“No faster than straight through the chest with a carving knife,” Katrina said. “I can demonstrate on you, if you’d like.”

“Such harsh words,” Kumiho remarked with exaggerated woundedness. “And after I went through all the trouble of bringing you this ice-cold lemonade.”

Katrina could hear the clink of ice against glass as Kumiho shifted her balance.

“Yeah, be a doll and pour that over your head, would ya?” Katrina requested. “I don’t have the strength to throw it in your face.”

“Fine, if you’re gonna be that way, I’ll just drink it myself,” Kumiho threatened.

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t want it,” Katrina exclaimed.

“What were you going to do, lick it off my face?” Kumiho inquired.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Katrina accused.

“I think you’d enjoy it more than I would,” Kumiho argued.

“You wanna say that to my face, girl?” Katrina challenged.

“I would if you weren’t laying on it,” Kumiho said pointedly.

Katrina pulled herself off the ground, wincing as she rose, and sat down heavily. She looked up at Kumiho in her simple sundress, a glass of lemonade in one hand and a bucket in the other. Kumiho looked so pretty and domestic, it made Katrina want to retch. It reminded her too much of the girl that married Roger.

“Gimme that,” Katrina said, snatching the lemonade from Kumiho’s hand.

“When Farmer Bob’s wife asked me to bring some lemonade to the new girl, I had a funny feeling she was talking about you,” Kumiho said as she sat the bucket down in front of Wearwolf. Wearwolf hauled himself up and upon finding water in the bucket began to lap it up. Katrina thought to tell Wearwolf not to drink it, if only on general principle, but that would’ve been difficult with lemonade pouring down her own throat.

“Uh, huh,” Katrina replied between gulps. She glanced at Kumiho to find her smiling down on her. She scowled and asked, “What?”

“Dirt becomes you,” Kumiho said with a smooth and gentle tone so phony it grated on Katrina’s nerves. “Maybe you should consider a career as a coal miner.”

“Why don’t you sit down a moment?” Katrina spat. “Or don’t you wanna get dirt on your pretty little dress?”

“Are you insinuating something?” Kumiho inquired, no less duplicitous than Katrina had come to expect.

“Just that you’re a prissy whore, that’s all,” Katrina explained with a high-and-mighty tone before taking another sip of lemonade.

Kumiho humfed, snatched the nearly-empty glass back from Katrina and stormed off. A few yards away, she turned around and called back, “Just because I think there are better ways of attracting boys than pretending to be one, doesn’t mean that I’m a tramp!”

“No, planning your career track around it does,” responded Katrina.

Kumiho stomped back up to Katrina, dumped the glass’s remaining contents on her head, and stomped back towards the farmhouse. Katrina fished out an ice cube that managed to slip down her blouse and popped it in her mouth.

“Refreshing, if sticky,” Katrina sighed around the cube in her mouth and lay back on the ground.

“What is with the two of you, anyway?” Wearwolf asked. “Nothing I have witnessed in the wild quite matches the ill will the two of you display whenever you meet.”

“It’s a long story,” Katrina answered, sucking on the ice cube. “Needless to say, nothing drives humans apart like ideological differences.”