"What do you mean Captain Beatrix isn't here?"
The guard shrugged helplessly. "She left two days ago for some gatherin' at the North Tower."
"What gathering?"
Tim Treller peered the best he could between the bars of the prison wagon. The clumsy toad guard that…she had handed him off to was arguing with the sentinel at the entrance to the tower. He allowed himself a moment of relief to learn that Captain Beatrix wasn't at the tower; she was known far and wide as one of the toughest and least forgiving toad captains, a position she shared with her brother Grime.
"Just toss the frog in the dungeon," the sentinel said gruffly. "Not like 'e can do much."
"But–"
"Listen, man," the sentinel interrupted. "You want credit. I get that. I'll make sure Captain Beatrix knows it was you who captured 'im, okay? When she returns, that is."
The clumsy toad sighed. "Fine." He walked around to the other side of the carriage, and Tim quickly stepped back from the window and pretended like he hadn't been listening to the entire conversation. When the doors creaked open, he blinked as though he wasn't used to the light, pretending he'd just woken up from a nap and definitely hadn't been eavesdropping.
"You're coming with me, Treller." Clumsy Toad roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the carriage. He was dragged through the entrance, hands still bound, stumbling over every step as the toad took much wider strides. Barely a moment later, he was tossed into a cell on the third floor. The iron bars slammed shut behind him, the sound of a key twisting in the lock following soon after, and Tim sat up, taking in his surroundings.
Tim was in a dingy cell surrounded on three sides by iron bars and the fourth by rough, pockmarked stone. He glanced at the wall behind him and saw a tiny wire-mesh-covered window showing the sun setting on the outside world; he had an inkling that he would be glued to the limited view it offered.
"Dinner," a toad called, coming in with two bowls of green slop. The toad slipped one to a prisoner on the far end of the cell block, then pushed the other through the bars of Tim's cell. He sniffed the food and gagged.
"What is this stuff?" he asked.
The toad looked back. "Dinner. Suggest you eat it; you ain't gettin' anythin' else 'till mornin' comes. Shove the bowl between the bars when you're done eating." With those words, the toad was gone.
Tim experimentally poked the bowl, and a live centipede crawled out. He picked it up between two fingers and tossed it in his mouth, then gagged at the sour taste. These people need a real cook.
He glanced out the window. The sun was just a sliver on the horizon, and stars were beginning to show in the sky.
Tim grimaced at the bowl of slop, then gulped it down. His stomach rumbled uncomfortably and he made a face, then sighed and slid the bowl between the bars. Another scrape on the far side of the cell block caught his attention, and he turned to see the other prisoner doing the same.
"Uh, hello," he said. "What are you in for?"
The toad grunted and refused to turn around.
"Well, I can tell you what I'm in for," Tim continued as though the toad hadn't ignored him. "I'm Tim Treller, the leader of the Secret Circus. Because we were a secret organization, we didn't pay our taxes. Which, in hindsight, we totally had enough money to do…"
The prisoner said nothing.
"I actually thought Captain Beatrix was gonna sentence me to death or something, but ha!" Tim Treller blinked tears of mirth out of his eyes. "She's not even here! The rest of these bozos can't do anything to me without her permission, so I'm safe!"
The toad still didn't say anything. Tim was starting to doubt that the other prisoner was even listening.
He scoffed, finally working his hands free of the rope bindings. "Whatever. Don't listen to me. Who cares." Give it two weeks and I'll be out of here.
Tim scratched another line into the wall of the cell to track the passing days. Eight already. He was running out of time on his self-assigned deadline.
He glanced out the window and saw the sun starting to sink below the horizon. "Dinner's almost here," he said to the other prisoner, who still refused to respond. Right on cue, the door to the cell block swung open and the same toad that had been coming for the past eight days emerged with two bowls of slop.
The moment the food was in his cell, Tim downed it, making a face at the taste, then snapped off a sliver of clay from the bowl. He added it to the stash of six other makeshift lockpicks pinned in his shirt, then shoved the bowl between the iron bars. He pulled his vest a little tighter to prevent the picks from being noticed.
By now he'd memorized the food schedules; one meal of some charred insects a little after sunrise, another of a bowl of slop a little before nightfall. Nobody so much as set foot in the cell block any other time. Being up on the third floor meant he could still hear what was going on in the courtyard down below, and from the snatches of conversation he'd managed to glean, he put together that Captain Beatrix wasn't meant to return for another month. Great news, in Tim's opinion.
He had a plan, but for his plan to work, he needed to get out of this cell and find something sharp. Preferably something that wouldn't be missed; the less evidence he left behind of his escape, the better.
Outside, a scout hollered something at one of the guards on the gate, and the gate started to grind open. When Tim squinted through the window, he could just barely see the silhouette of a tax collector's wagon. Toads began to file out of the tower to help out, torchlight reflecting off shiny metal armor, and Tim realized it was the perfect distraction.
He pulled out one of the hardened clay shards, accidentally poking himself and letting out a slight hiss of pain. No matter. He rubbed the pricked finger on his shirt and stepped up to the bars, carefully sticking his arm out right next to the lock. He carefully inserted the lockpick and wiggled it experimentally, pressing his tympanum to his side of the door in an effort to hear if he'd managed to undo the lock. Instead of the soft click or the loud thunk of the tumblers in the lock shifting, however, Tim heard a tiny crack. He pulled his hand back into the cell to see that his makeshift lockpick had snapped. Well, that's why I have extras, he thought to himself with a shrug, pinning the remains of the first lockpick to his shirt and pulling out a second.
Three lockpicks later, Tim finally heard the click of the lock giving, then gently pulled out the lockpick and pushed the cell door open. Before he left the cell, he checked the courtyard through the window. The toads seemed to be having some kind of meeting, and Tim figured it was now or never.
Before he left, Tim glanced at his fellow prisoner. The toad was still slumped against the cell wall, barely moving. They would have passed for a corpse, except that every day, without fail, they finished the food left in their cell. Tim and his fellow prisoner made eye contact, then the toad looked away, disinterested.
Uh, hello? Are they gonna do anything? Tim thought to himself as he left the cell block. I don't even think they're going to report me. They literally just don't care.
He shrugged and placed his hands on the wall, then climbed up to the ceiling. It was pretty unlikely that any of the toads still in the tower would think to look up. He crawled along for a bit, passing right over the heads of the few guards that he saw, and finally dropped to the ground in what looked like a kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief, then dived under a shelf as two toad guards passed.
"When did everyone get so lazy?" one of them said.
"Since Captain Beatrix left, everyone's been shirking their duties…" The voices dwindled as both guards walked past.
Tim filed the information away for later, then emerged into the open. He glanced around and almost threw himself back under the shelf when he spotted a snoozing toad sitting in the corner of the room, a stained chef's hat covering her eyes. The toad let out a loud snore, and Tim jumped, barely stopping himself from bumping into a cart filled with unwashed dinner plates.
He took a breath, wondering why he was so on edge. It was a simple escape mission, nothing too unusual or complicated. The toad let out another snuffle, and he realized why he was panicking. Tim had broken out of dozens of places, but never anywhere as secure as Toad Tower.
Though, if those guards were right, that wasn't much of a problem.
With his nerves under control, Tim started lightly stepping around the room, searching for something sharp he could take without notice. It didn't take long before he found a small knife somebody had dropped in between two tables. He got to his knees and fished it out, tucking it into his shirt and buttoning up his vest so it wouldn't be visible.
Now to head back. Tim straightened up and carefully walked over to the door, grabbing some kind of fresh beetle from a basket on the way. After all, he'd be here for just a little while longer, and he figured he might as well eat something actually decent. He stuffed it in his mouth and walked straight through the doorway, only to collide with an incoming toad soldier.
The two stared at each other in shock for a moment. Then the toad groaned. "I just wanted a snack…" He immediately lunged for Tim, who jumped too slowly. The soldier caught his feet and dangled him upside down for a moment before slinging him over his back.
"Hey! Let me go!" Tim yelled fruitlessly, his voice muffled by the beetle still in his mouth.
The soldier ignored him. "Zinna! Stop sleeping on the job!"
With a quiet snort, the toad in the corner smacked her lips and groggily pulled the chef's hat off her head. "Whozzat?" she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Wha…"
"Get back to work. Do you want Captain Beatrix to return and see you sleeping?" He gestured to the frog slung over his shoulder. "One of the prisoners escaped and came here for more food. If I hadn't been here, he would have gotten away with it."
"So what?" came the response. "The prison food is terrible anyway."
"Terrible– wha–" the soldier sputtered. "You make the prison food!"
"Not like I want to." Zinna's snide reply caused the soldier to emit a deep sigh.
"Look," he said at last, "I'm taking this prisoner to solitary confinement. And you need to make sure you don't sleep until your shift is over." With that said, he turned and left the kitchen, Tim still hanging off of his shoulder.
Solitary confinement? Tim gulped. Now how am I gonna get out of here?
The toad walked toward the cell block, then strode straight past. Tim caught a glance at the other prisoner. He was still slumped against the wall, staring off into space.
Then the prison guard turned a corner and went down a flight of stairs, and Tim couldn't see his old cell anymore.
The guard went through a stone door, then tossed Tim into the only cell in the room. The door swung shut behind him with an echoing thud, and the guard locked it with a keyring he then slipped into a pocket. He then strode out of the room, shutting the stone door behind him and leaving Tim to explore his new surroundings.
The room was built on the very edge of the tower, so it was semicircular instead of the box he'd been living in previously. The bricks were crumbling and mossy, but the bars between Tim and the stone door looked as though they'd been added recently, the metal still shining in some places instead of tarnished and rusty. There was a single window on the wall, and he hopped up to it to be met with a view of the torch-lit courtyard below. The tax collector's wagon was unloaded, most of the toads having returned to their posts.
He stifled a yawn. Figuring that he'd better get some sleep if he wanted to figure out how to escape, Tim found himself a nice patch of moss in the corner and lay down, closing his eyes.
Tim spent less than a day silently bemoaning his predicament before starting to formulate a plan to get out of solitary confinement. The toads watched him eat now, sitting and staring at him as he forced himself to eat the charred insects that somehow got more burned every day. The moment they left with the dishes, however, he hopped over to the window and peered outside.
His lower vantage point on the second instead of the third floor made it a lot easier for Tim to overhear passing conversations. He observed everything that went on in the courtyard down below, from infighting between two guards (an extremely convenient distraction) to a sewer grate that clattered every time someone drove a wagon over it (maybe an easy escape route?). But his ticket out of prison came four days later, in the form of a young toadlet who wanted nothing to do with Toad Tower.
"Come on, Rathor," someone said frustratedly outside the window, drawing Tim's attention. "What will it take for you to go see your brother?"
"Do we have to go to Toad Tower for that?" a high-pitched voice whined. "Why can't Talon go home and visit us?"
"Now, you know your brother has an important job," the first voice scolded. "Being a guard at Toad Tower is a huge honor, and he can't just leave his post like that."
Tim angled his vision the best that he could and caught a glimpse of a dark red toadlet pouting at his mother, a serious-looking green toad. She gave him an unimpressed stare, then sighed. "If you don't want to see Talon, stay out here," she finally said. "I also need to report the strange creature that was spotted in Riverport. Really, you should be doing that," she added as an afterthought, "but I'm not going to make you do something you clearly don't want to do."
"But, Mom–"
"Nuh-uh. Not hearing it." She turned and walked closer to the entrance of the tower, out of Tim's line of sight. Rathor pouted and sat down on the ground.
A strange creature at Riverport, eh? Tim's fists clenched. I have a good idea as to who that is.
And if he was right, this toadlet would be helpful in more ways than one.
Tim glanced at the wall of the prison cell, looking for loose stones. It didn't take him long to find the crumbling corner of a brick, and a moment later he spotted dozens of cracks crisscrossing across a brick that was poking out of the wall. He used the knife the toads still hadn't noticed he'd stolen to pry the bricks apart. Before long, he had a good-sized pile of pebbles and stones lying on the windowsill.
He took the knife and carefully sliced the mesh right where it met the stone of the wall, taking care to not accidentally nick himself or tear the netting. He gently rolled it out of the way, leaving an opening just wide enough for him to crawl through. But he'd surely get spotted if he tried to escape.
At least, not unless he had a distraction.
Tim picked up one of the pebbles on the windowsill, almost instantly spotting the two feuding guards standing on opposite sides of the wall, facing away from each other. He squinted, raised the stone, readied himself, and threw it.
It sailed up, up, in a perfect arc, finally clattering to a stop barely a foot from one of the toad guards. They glanced up, startled, but didn't do more than look around for the source of the noise.
Tim sighed and tried again, this time aiming for the other guard. This time he managed to hit the second guard directly on the back of her breastplate. She glanced up, then turned to glare at the first guard, yelling something.
The two guards calmed down after a moment of back-and-forth shouting, both returning to their original posts on the wall. That was when Tim took his shot, nailing the first guard straight on their helmet. They turned to their fellow guard, yelling something. The arguing between the two toads soon devolved into a full-on fistfight, drawing the attention of everyone in the courtyard.
Tim took the chance. As the toads crept closer to the scene, a few trying to stop the fighting while everyone else egged the fighters on, Tim carefully climbed out the window. He unrolled the mesh, tucking the edge in between two protruding bricks to prevent it from folding and revealing his escape route. He quickly scaled the walls of the tower, climbing down hand over hand until he was hidden behind a particularly large wagon filled to the brim with barrels and crates.
Nobody noticed, the squabble on top of the wall serving as the perfect distraction for Tim to make his escape.
He exhaled in relief, then straightened, putting on his best 'victim' face. He was going to need it to convince the toadlet to–
"Did you just climb out of that window?"
The incredulous high-pitched voice of the toadlet snapped Tim out of his thoughts. He grimaced. So much for nobody spotting him.
"Uh, hello?" Rathor waved his arm at Tim. "Amphibia to random frog?"
Tim coughed nervously. "Yeah, I climbed out of the window," he said at last.
The toadlet motioned to the commotion on the wall. "You did that, didn't you?" More toads had streamed out of the tower by now, cheering and jeering. Through the crowd, Tim caught a glimpse of one of the toad guards sporting a black eye, a split lip, and an almost manic grin.
Tim nodded, trying his best to look miserable and guilty. "Yeah, I did," he said, "but I had no idea it would get that bad. I was just trying to cause a distraction." The lie slipped off his tongue as smooth as butter. He absolutely had known it would get that bad.
Rathor sat back, satisfied with Tim's answer, and Tim had to stop himself from grinning. Still got it, he thought to himself with a measure of pride.
After a moment, Rathor spoke again. "So, why are you climbing out the window of Toad Tower? Are you a criminal or something?"
"Not really," Tim lied. "I'm innocent. I'm trying to get out of here so I can go home to my son, Fern." My nonexistent son, Fern.
Rathor raised an eyebrow. "If Captain Beatrix put you in prison, there's no way you're innocent. I'm going to tell someone."
"No, wait, don't!" Tim put his hands up to stop Rathor from moving, adopting a panicked expression. He wasn't actually worried that Rathor would spill the scream beans, but he couldn't let the toadlet know that.
"And why shouldn't I?"
Now to pin this on… her. "I was framed! And Captain Beatrix isn't even here, so they locked me up with no trial!" he cried. "A terrifying, intelligent creature came to my town and stole all of my taxes, so I couldn't pay them when the tax collectors came! I need to get back. Because–"
"Wait," Rathor interrupted, paling. "What kind of intelligent creature?"
The toadlet had taken the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. Tim took a deep breath to stop the smile from spreading over his face. "It was a gangly, horrifying monster as tall as a newt that had a face bump, short and spiky hair, and a necklace with a glowing rock. I caught it stealing my taxes but when I tried to stop it, it broke through my window and ran off into the night. You know the rest."
Rathor rolled his eyes. "Ugh. That creature."
"You've seen it?" Tim asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah. And it can speak Amphibian."
"Then you know what I'm talking about," Tim continued. "I need to get back home to my son. Poor Fern doesn't have anyone to take care of him other than me, and I'd do anything for him." He waited, holding his breath and hoping that softened the toadlet's heart.
Sighing, Rathor glanced to the side. "Look," he said after a moment, "fine. I lost my dad years ago, I don't know if I want that to happen to your son. But I want something from this too. What have you got to pay me with?"
"I can prove that the creature isn't dangerous," Tim said after a moment. "Aside from stealing my taxes and breaking my window, it tried to convince me that it didn't want to hurt anyone when I caught it in my bedroom."
Rathor watched him for a moment. "Don't you have money or something?"
Tim stared at him. "Fine. A hundred gold."
"You've got a deal," Rathor said. "What do you want me to do?"
"I'm Fyn, by the way," Tim said, the fake name familiar enough that he'd answer to it without hesitation. "And can you sneak me out of here?"
The toadlet shrugged. "If you can find a hiding place in there, sure." He gestured to a covered wagon parked a little behind him, a saddled tarantula snoozing in front. "Mom borrowed it from our neighbors."
Tim scrutinized it for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Sneak me out of here on that."
Rathor nodded, then glanced at the toads still pummeling each other on the tower. "I don't think you'll have a problem with being stopped by these guys."
Tim rolled his eyes. "Let's just go," he said.
The toad stood up, sighing. "Can't believe I'm helping a frog," he mumbled.
"Rathor! Hey, it's been a while!"
The toadlet grumbled. "Hi, Talon," he said halfheartedly.
Tim recognized that voice. It was the same toad soldier who'd caught him in the kitchen and dragged him to solitary confinement. "Are you still mad at me for leaving?" the soldier said now, pouting.
"Yes."
Rathor's curt answer didn't deter Talon, though, and his voice drifted closer to the wagon where Tim was hidden under one of the seats, covered by several canvas sacks. "Come on, it's been a year since I left for the Tower. Sorry I didn't take you, but you're still too young to join."
The toadlet only huffed.
Talon sighed. "Look, just let me say bye to Mom, then I'll get out of your hair." He said something else too quietly for Tim to hear before the door to the wagon swung open. Rathor stepped in, and the door closed behind him.
A moment later, the wagon started moving. "Hey, Fyn. We'll be in Riverport in a few hours," Rathor said quietly.
Tim nodded, then crawled out from beneath the seat to stare out the window. The plains around the Toad Tower soon gave way to the forest.
And now for the last part of his plan: getting away from these toads.
Tim remembered when he'd stationed several of his best henchmen in the woods near Toad Tower to keep an eye on what was happening there. He hadn't been able to get an update in time about Captain Beatrix's sudden departure, but they should still have been watching out for a signal. With that in mind, he slipped his knife out and pressed it against the window, angling it until it flashed with the light of the receding sun.
He flashed it in a pattern, pausing and seeing if they would respond before trying again.
"What are you doing, Fyn?" Rathor asked, clearly bored.
Tim shrugged. "Admiring the view," he said, sending another signal.
The toadlet accepted the answer and went back to sulking in the corner.
Tim glanced at Rathor. Maybe I should ask what's got him so upset? Then he brushed it off. He honestly couldn't care less, and it didn't matter to him once he managed to ditch the toadlet. He turned and flashed another signal through the window.
It took a while of Tim signaling through the window, but finally, a loud thud caught his attention. The wagon ground to a halt.
Rathor swung the door open and hopped out, disappearing around the corner. "Mom? What's going on?"
Tim glanced at the wide-open door and tucked the knife back into his pocket.
A few minutes later, when Rathor went back around the wagon, there was nobody there.
"Took you long enough," Tim complained, catching up to his second-in-command, Erid.
The toad just grunted, hefting the axe he'd used to topple a tree onto the road. "How did you even get captured?"
"Long story short, I captured some kind of strange creature, but she escaped and destroyed our original base, catching me in the chaos," Tim admitted. "If I ever see her again I'll–" He took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench. "I need to stay a few days to recover," he continued, blushing when his stomach growled, "but then I need a ride back to Stonewell so I can pick up the pieces she left behind. She didn't get to our other base, thankfully."
"I'm sure we can spare a tarantula," Erid replied.
After an hour of hard, fast riding, Tim steered the tarantula into the stables at the most prestigious inn in all of Stonewell, the Hargrave. He handed the reins over to a stablehand and strode into the inn, approaching the front desk.
"Hello, how may I help… you…" The receptionist faltered upon seeing Tim.
"I'm hoping to watch the sparrows fly at midnight, do you have any recommendations?" Tim asked.
"Uh… yes sir, if you would please follow me," the receptionist said. They disappeared into the back room, Tim following suit.
The receptionist pulled open a heavy trapdoor leading into the basement of the building. Tim stepped in, and the receptionist slammed it shut. He descended into the darkness for a moment, finally emerging in a large room filled to the brim with almost all of the members of the Secret Circus.
The low chatter in the room fell silent at the sight of him.
"I'm back," Tim said flatly.
A frog raised her hand tentatively. "Um… weren't you taken to Toad Tower?"
"I was, but I escaped," Tim said, his impatience leaking into his voice. "Why are you all so surprised?"
"We thought… It's been two and a half weeks." The frog lowered her voice. "We thought you were given lifetime imprisonment, if not execution."
"I'd have thought you all would have more faith in your leader," Tim said indignantly. "How bad were the damages?"
A toad Tim recognized from the original hideout raised his hand. "Well, everyone got out alive," he started, "but all the creatures that were there escaped. And the entirety of the base is intact, but the Toad Tower soldiers are constantly monitoring it."
Tim sighed. "Did you manage to get everything out? The coppers, the transaction papers, anything?"
"The papers, yeah," the toad said. "But not the coppers. Or our supplies. Or weapons, or–"
"That's enough," Tim said. "I get it. We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. And another base to build." He headed into the office room on the far end, grabbing a pencil and some paper and jotting down a quick checklist. "Now, here's what we're going to do."
Over the course of a week, Tim delegated task after task, doing whatever he could himself. Honestly, he had no idea how the Secret Circus was able to get so much more work done in the single week he was back than the two and a half weeks he was gone. Before long, the Circus had managed to restock all of the lost supplies, though it made quite a dent in their savings to do so.
So he was sitting in his office a week later, contemplating the checklist he'd written and wondering if he'd forgotten anything. At first, he confused the tapping at his door for the tapping of his pencil against the table, but it persisted even once he set the pencil down. He glanced up and saw a nervous-looking frog holding a letter.
"Um, Mr. Treller sir, a messenger mosquito came looking for you," she said, holding the letter up.
Tim nodded. "Bring it here, then," he said. "Thank you."
"Of-of course, Mr. Treller." The frog scurried out of the room, the door gently shutting behind her. Tim shrugged and adjusted his lamp, brightening the glow.
He glanced at the letter. There was no seal. He shrugged and took a drink from the steaming mug of tea on his desk, then pried the envelope open with his knife and unfolded the letter.
He laughed quietly to himself when he saw the almost childlike scribbles covering the page. "Why in frog's name is this person's handwriting so bad?" Sighing, he squinted at the page, trying to make sense of the letters.
To Tim Treller, the Huntsman,
I have a job for you. It's quite different from your usual line of work, but I hope that you will still consider helping me out with this. I'm willing to pay you a hefty sum in exchange for your aid.
Here are the details of the mission. Should you choose to accept, please make your way to the location circled on the enclosed map. Then, once the mission is complete, come to Newtopia. I will send a message with more information then.
I need you to use your creatures to threaten two otherworldly creatures called humans.
Now, I know how that sounds. But one of them has abilities that only come out in high-stress situations, So I need you to put them in that high-stress situation, and find out which one exhibits increased speed, strength, and/or a blue glow. The other one, well, you're free to do as you wish, but as much as it pains me, make sure she does not return to Newtopia.
The price for doing this is 5,000 gold farthings.
Signed, a client
Tim frowned. More otherworldly creatures? He was tempted to refuse; while five thousand gold was a lot of money the Circus could definitely use, the last time he'd tangled with a creature from another world, he'd lost far too much to consider doing it again.
He shook out the envelope, hoping to see the map, and let that aid in his decision. A folded paper fell out, and he unfolded it to reveal a detailed map of the entirety of Amphibia, with a lakeside cave in the mountains north of Newtopia circled in black ink. Then his attention caught on a small piece of paper caught in one of the folds.
He tugged it free and unfolded it.
P.S. You may have to eavesdrop on their conversations to figure out which of the three humans present are the ones you need to target. This might help: their names are Anne and Luz.
Luz. The name echoed in his mind. Tim gaped at the paper, dropping it onto his desk. Then his fists clenched, and he knew what his decision was.
He left his office, tucking the letters and the map back into their envelope. "Someone prepare the wolf-moles," he said. "I've got a job to do."
Author's Notes
So. I'm really, really sorry that this chapter is like two weeks late. I was dealing with a lot of personal stuff, the TOH finale had me rethinking some plot stuff, and I just couldn't find the motivation to sit down and write this chapter. But now here it is, and I hope you enjoyed it.
For clarification, the wolf-moles Tim mentions at the end are short for wolf-mole crickets, a combination of mole crickets and wolves. You'll understand why that's important soon enough.
That finale, augh. Amazing. I have a new favorite character design, I'll say that much. But don't worry, no spoilers here- but if you ask me about it in the reviews, I'll reply.
-Reviews-
OMAC001: She is! Or, while she doesn't quite suspect Andrias yet, she's starting to have some suspicions. And they both make equally good candidates for the Heart gemstone, but it's always been Luz's dream to be a 'chosen one' like Azura. She can see all the signs of Anne being the Heart, and comforts Anne about it, but she never lets on that anything is wrong. And in Anne's case, she can't see that Luz is at all upset about it, and she doesn't want to be pushed out of the friend group- something that she's afraid will happen if she isn't the Heart. Which is also a fear that Luz shares. It's- wow. After writing this response, I can see just how complicated this situation is for the two of them.
Thirteen-Seven: I don't think Luz would have been completely rejected, she would probably have surprised Marcy more than anything, and Marcy probably would have asked for some time to think- Luz is one of Marcy's closest friends after all. The last thing Marcy would want is to hurt her.
So, as for your question- you're going to find out soon. Really soon. Like, next chapter, in fact. And you're right, Marcy and Amity are really similar in essence, even if Amity carries herself far differently and hides the less... 'socially acceptable' parts of herself (at least according to her mother), while Marcy struggles to hide any part of herself and her interests. Luz definitely would see the similarities between them, and it would probably cause her to feel a bit heartsick. I also do think she would see the differences between them, though.
And yes, Susie is great. What are your thoughts on Berdly though? Also, have you heard the soundtrack for Deltarune? If so, what's your favorite song- mine is A CYBER'S WORLD?.
-Final Notes-
As always, a HUGE thank you to √i, you are an amazing person and I couldn't have finished this chapter without you.
See you next week for The Sleepover to End All Sleepovers! We're nearing the Newtopia arc finale, guys!