Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 5: Human Animal, Animal Human

Jak felt like a ghost among the living as he wandered in the days after Kunino; a shadow passing between glimmers of a distant world he'd once lived in. When he'd stopped at stalls in Jadecrest to buy supplies, he'd stared at others and wondered if he, too, had once moved that slowly? What was it like to amble about with no particular goal in mind, smile at the sky, stick your hand from a rickshaw to feel the warm wind rushing past, or to hem and haw over two different baskets at the market as you decided which would better fit the decor of your house?

His new life was a numb and dark place, all sound muffled by his hood, every scent filtered through the ash and smoke smell that clung to the cowl he wore over his mouth and nose. All he'd known the past week was moving, breathing, eating, sleeping, and perhaps nodding if greeted or told what something cost. There was no humanity in what he was now, only animalistic instinct and purpose; a bird drawn north because the seasons told it to, burdened by the heavy understanding that his survival depended on it.

That same pull was now leading Jak to a place his map called the "Glass Meadows". For many days, Jade Forest had resembled the woods back home, but as time wore on, all familiarity seeped away. Waves of jungled hills flattened to sparser deciduous groves, separated by rocky outcroppings. At times, the rocks loomed so close that walking between them felt like squeezing through alleys in a city of rough stone, complete with ivy for store signs and caves for dark windows and doors.

As dusk approached, he found a spot where the rock pulled back from the road and yawned to a cavern mouth, perfect for resting in.

Or for getting eaten in by whatever horror probably lives there, Jak thought, then readjusted the pack on his back and headed towards it anyways, glaring at the gray clouds above. Better than getting rained on again, though.

He whistled at the entrance and listened. Only echoes answered back. Shrugging, he parted the bushes and clambered down inside.

The only inhabitants were scalepedes, who skittered their thick, thousand-legged bodies back into their host crevices when Jak summoned green eco to light his way. The cave reminded him a little of Samos' hut back home. Vines cascaded from the roof in whatever cracks they could fit through and the constant whisper of drip drip drip brought deep memories to his mind.

"The roof is leaking again, Keira."

"The roof is always leaking, Samos."

Jak mimicked a third voice as he set his pack down and ventured deeper, "You mean to tell me that Keira, Nadoa's greatest brassbeetle fixer, can't fix a simple roof leak?"

"Shut up, Jak!" he could almost feel the brush of a hand playfully push his shoulder. "What do you do around here, anyways? Oh, that's right… you're the guy people come to when they stub their toes."

"I do a hell of a lot more than fix stubbed toes," Jak mumbled to himself in the present.

"Yes, Keira. He has the very important job of healing paper cuts, too."

Laughter. Even now, months later, Jak's cheeks reddened as the memory's voices echoed in his mind's ear.

"Don't take it so personally. We're just teasing you, Jak. Hey, someday you'll be leading a village of your own, and where will I be? Mucking about in some cave, gathering scrap to keep things running that should have been junked centuries ago."

Jak frowned when he realized that he wasn't in a cavern, but an ancient ruin. Pipes wound through the murk. Rusted metal-scale mosaics of strange beings Jak couldn't quite place littered the walls, broken brass statues standing guard beneath them. They once formed what had likely been a beautiful hall, but time, darkness, and abandonment had long devoured their glory.

"Things can change, Keira," Samos' words resounded as Jak's memory fizzled out. "Things can change."

Further back in the hollow, there were some dry sticks bundled together, along with logs and brush perfect for kindling. They – and the blackened patch by a worn statue in the ruin's front stretch – told Jak that this place must have been a common stop for travelers. Within a few minutes, he'd built a fire on that same patch, set out his blanket in the groove between the statue's bird-like feet, and laid back against a pillow of moss-covered stone, its damp coolness welcome. He unfastened his cloak, ran his hands through his freed, sweaty hair, tore his cowl from his mouth, and breathed the first clean, deep breath he'd taken all day.

"You're starting to talk to yourself," he muttered, then readjusted his body so he could watch the fire. "What am I even doing out here, anyways?"

His answer came as a rolling roar of thunder, fierce and sharp. Rain began to hammer the cavern roof and the drip drip drip turned into a steady trickle of water through the ceiling's cracks.

"And do you do anything besides rain!?"

Another rumble. He let out a long groan.

"I'm gonna turn out like the green sages of old. What did Samos always say they did? Hide away in the wilderness for centuries? Talking to plants and rocks and weird crap?" He turned to a scraggly vine wrapped around the statue's leg and 'shook' one of its leaves. "Hey, the name's Jakan. Call me Jak. I spend my days trying not to kill people and cursing my entire Precursors-forsaken existence. What do you do in your spare time?"

"Lately? Watching idiots talk to plants."

Jak froze. Did… did it actually speak to him? He let go of the leaf like it was poisonous and shuffled away, half-hidden behind the statue's leg. Then he peeked down his shirt. Samos said the dark eco would eventually turn him insane, but it hadn't acted up in days, and such a thing wasn't supposed to have happened until months - if that - down the road.

But he was certain he'd heard something. He stared all around the ruin. Suddenly, the bushes at the entrance rustled.

"Who's there!?"

No answer. Jak scrambled to his feet and pulled his sword from his belt, the blade extending. The fronds ceased their wavering. He couldn't tell size or shape, but the voice had been male. He waited a long while, his dark mark burning, his hand shaking as he tried to hold the sword steady. Taking a deep breath, he readied his blade, rushed forward, whipped the bushes back, and-

There was an animal. Some sort of small mammal, though the exact species Jak had never seen before. It cowered, bushy, brown-tipped tail and orange paws shielding its face from whatever horror it thought Jak was about to dish out. Jak lowered his sword, then retracted the blade and knelt.

"Sorry there, little guy. Thought someone nasty was about to ruin my day."

It peeked out above its tail fluff, squinting its blue eyes whenever Jak moved his hand forward to try to pet it. Smiling, Jak gently let the bushes back down and settled by the fire again, hoping it'd understand he was no threat.

Just an animal. That doesn't explain the voice I heard, though.

Jak shrugged. Perhaps he was just tired? Or maybe insanity really was starting to take root in his mind? He pushed the dark thought away by blaming it on his drowsiness, leaned back, and watched the bush. The creature still hadn't emerged. Perhaps it just wanted to stay dry? He couldn't blame it, what with the way the storm outside sounded. He searched his pack, brought out the yakow jerky he'd bought back in Jadecrest, and started chewing on a piece as he pondered what it might be. A ferret? A fox? A weasel of some sort?

Another rustle. The animal clawed out from the bush and took timid pawsteps across the ruin, pausing every few to glance at Jak. It stopped just outside the fire's reach and stared blankly at him, head cocked, eyes reflective in the dark.

"What?"

Its nose twitched. Then it licked its lips.

"I saw plenty of grubs further back in the cave," Jak jerked his thumb in that direction. "Help yourself."

It gave a whine.

Jak sighed, pulled out a smaller hunk of jerky, and tossed it over the fire. The creature caught it in its mouth and started gnawing away.

"There. Now leave me alone."

He stuffed his jerky stash in his pack, tied the bag tight, and turned his back to both the animal and flames, trying to block them out with his blanket. Not that it could do him any harm, but he hoped that it would take the hint. He didn't need another mouth to feed.

Something started scratching at his pack.

Jak twisted around and swiped at the animal. "Hey, I thought I told you to get lost!?"

It scrambled back, then came at the pack again as Jak settled down once more. It swiped another jerky strip before Jak could pull the bag behind him. Jak tried to grab it back, but the creature skittered away and downed the strip in a few bites, then licked its lips in satisfaction. Two little blue eyes stared at him; if they'd been human, he might have even said they were squinting with delight.

"You're a bold little shit, aren't you?"

It swallowed its last nibble, rocked onto its back haunches, picked its teeth with a claw, then spat, "And you're a selfish prick. So what?"

Jak screeched. The creature covered its ears and hissed. Jak clamped his hands over his mouth, though it was more a failed attempt to calm himself than to prevent further embarrassment.

"Yeesh, you scare easily, kid! Ya just about ruptured every eardrum from here to Klawwvak!"

Jak backed against the wall and stared in horror. A weasel. Talking? A talking weasel. Even worse, one that kept talking. He really was going insane, wasn't he? First the plant, then this… thing. What next? What, would he hear rocks talk, too? He rubbed his ears from base to sharp tip, then his eyes. When he opened them again, the freak of nature was still there, staring up at him as if he were the weirdest thing in that ruin.

"What's the matter?"

"What's…? What's the matter?" Jak squeaked out.

"Yeah?"

"You're… uh… you're a t-talking… well-"

"A talking ottsel? Why, yes I am. Good brain you've got there, Bigfoot! The way you were chatting with that plant a few minutes ago, I thought ya might not have one."

Jak's eye twitched. Twice. He didn't know what think, much less say, even as the creature – or ottsel, he supposed – sauntered forward on two legs and sat human-like by the fire, wiggling its toes to warm them.

"Look, I just need a place to sleep for the night. Ya know, to keep my fur dry, take a snooze. Let me crash here, maybe share a little more of your food, and I'll be out of your hair by morning. Sound fair?"

When Jak didn't respond, only felt his eye twitch a third time, the ottsel grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes!"

"Wait, I didn't say-"

The creature pounced forward and started rifling through Jak's pack. His clothes, food, and personal belongings were torn out in a spray of colors. The ottsel grabbed more jerky, dried moonfruit, Jak's water pouch, and one of Jak's extra shirts from the messy pile. Then he gathered them around him like a small orange dragon hugging its treasure hoard, complete with a toothy, greedy grin. Jak slumped to the ground, wordless as the ottsel devoured his food, drank all his water, and turned his shirt into a makeshift nest.

"Hope you don't mind if I use this. Ahhhh!" the ottsel let out a squeaky yawn and stretched. "It's been a while since anyone's let me hang with them."

Jak stopped patting his eco wound as if it were a button that could turn this madness off. Defeated by reality - bizarre and unbelievable as it was - he muttered, "Can't… imagine why?"

"I know, right? And you're the first that hasn't come at me with torches and pitchforks. Let me tell ya: people around here? Superstitious as all hell! They see one talking animal and start screaming about demons and 'kill it with fire's and… yeah, they don't like things they ain't used to."

When Jak didn't answer, the ottsel continued, "'Course, I'm preaching to the choir here, aren't I? I bet they don't like you much, either. You're not the most chipper kind of guy. Kinda weird lookin', too."

Irritation – the first emotion Jak had felt in minutes besides shock – burned in his gut.

"Ah, don't look so sour, kid. You seem all right to me. Anyways, I s'pose you're tired, and I know I'm tired. So… good night, I guess?"

Jak furrowed his brows as the ottsel curled into a ball and fell fast asleep. Then he took a deep breath and sighed.

You know what? I'm just going to let this go. Let the stupid thing sleep here for the night, kick it out in the morning, and be on your merry way. And if you're lucky, you'll realize this was all a stupid dream when you wake up… and everything will be back to normal.

When he awoke the next morning, things were too normal. In fact, it seemed as if the ottsel hadn't been there at all. Jak's belongings were neatly packed away, his water pouch had been refilled, and the fire now gnawed on a new log. He'd have believed it was all a bizarre dream if not for the little pawprints leading towards the entrance, their wet edges glistening in the early sunlight that streamed in through cracks in the roof.

Well, he was true to his word, at least, Jak thought with a smile as he reached into his bag to grab breakfast. Talking animal demon or not, maybe he wasn't so bad after all-

His smile melted. He rummaged through his pack some more, noticing that, yes, the moonfruit was still there, as was his rice bag, money, and clothes. However, there was a distinct lack of jerky. He frantically dumped everything out, then dropped the pack and slapped his palm over his eyes as realization hit him.

I swear to the Precursors, if I ever see that little shit again…

Jak followed his normal morning routine, albeit with a face more sour than usual: check the dark mark, dress in fresh clothes (or, as fresh as they could have been after he finished picking orange fur and dirt off of them), stoke the fire, cook some rice with a small pot he'd bought, eat, drink, wash, pack up, and crawl out of whatever crevice he'd slept in.

He felt like some hellish beast when he emerged from the cave, almost cowering like he hadn't seen light in years as he headed back to the road. The suns were especially bright that day. Normally, he'd have been thankful for the break in gray clouds and wet, but his own personal mood storm followed him down the path.

"Stupid weasel," he grumbled, putting his hood back up and the cowl over his mouth again.

The land wove steep and sharp a few miles down the road. At first, there was a distant thrumming, then the roar of waves soon brushed Jak's ears. Sea glittered beyond the trees to his right. For a moment, he forgot the mud pulling on his feet and the chill morning mist numbing his face, and his reluctant trudging turned into a jog. Jak rounded the final turn and found an open cliff.

He stumbled to the edge and stared, head sweeping from coast to horizon to take in the great blue swathe he knew so well and missed so much. He leaned against a gnarled cliffside tree, closed his eyes, and lost himself in its unceasing song. Besides getting his jerky stolen and losing a bit of his sanity, perhaps this day wouldn't turn out so bad? If he was at the sea, the Glass Meadows weren't too far ahead. He was making good time and surely would reach the next village before nightfall.

Then the squealing came.

He twisted around and stared at the road. A great silence followed, but Jak still slipped his hand onto his sword where it was tucked in his belt. The waves' sound pulled on his left ear, urging him to ignore the commotion. Another screech. Then howls, piercing and angry.

Wolfadgers, Jak thought and raced back to the road. That can't be good.

Jak slid behind some brush when he caught sight of three black and white striped heads. He waited, breathless and still, praying to the Precursors that the beasts hadn't heard him. No growls. No nearing steps. He unsheathed his sword, rose to a tense kneel, parted the brush, and peered over the roadside hill.

They stalked the gully below, their paws leaving massive, glistening prints in the silt. They were circling something that dangled from the trees. A bark ball on a rope. It swung back and forth, turning the opposite direction whenever one neared. It was a trap of some sort, likely for small animals. It would explain the squealing he'd heard before the howls. Perhaps something was caught inside?

Pity nibbled his gut. The poor thing was going to get ripped apart if he didn't intervene. But did he really want to go up against a wolfadger, never mind three? He swallowed hard as he glanced at their claws, swishing tails, and fangs. The farmers back home always cursed the beasts, for wolfadgers had two favorite foods: yakows and people. And by the time the wolfadgers were done with them, they didn't look like yakows or people anymore.

Jak sheathed his sword and started to sneak away. He felt bad, but the only thing that could convince him to turn around was-

"Piss off, will ya!?"

He rushed to the ridge once more, blade already redrawn. That voice came from no stranger. A bushy orange tail peeked from the trap and he didn't know whether to feel guilty, grimace, or pinch himself. Feel guilty, because he was even more tempted to leave him there. Grimace, because it was that same damn weasel – or ottsel, Jak supposed - who'd stolen his jerky the night before.

Pinch himself, because the ottsel was talking again.

Last night hadn't been a dream, he thought.

"When I get out of here, I swear… well, let's just say I hope you three don't mind turning into fur rugs, is all!"

Jak ignored his heart's thundering for a moment and wondered, Am I really going to stick my neck out for this idiot?

"You hear that? I'm gonna make you three into the ugliest rugs you've ever seen. No, scratch that. Welcome mats."

One of the wolfadgers - not caring what its snack had to say - batted at the trap, sending the ottsel into another screeching frenzy. Jak glanced around. There had to be some way of getting them away from the ottsel without turning himself into lunch. Barely pausing to think, the trap now dangling by a thin thread from their repeated attacks, he picked up a hefty rock and tossed it, hoping it'd land far enough to steal their attention and send them running.

It struck one square in the face.

They were over the hill in seconds. Jak dodged one. Then another, but this time he was sent tumbling. He pulled on his sword, now heavy with mud, rolled to face them, and swung with all his might when a great shadow blocked out the suns. Dirt and blood fanned into the air. The wolfadger fell to the ground beside him with a sickening thump, its belly oozing crimson. Jak scarcely could celebrate – or puke - before another lunged.

He saw the next moments as little details, each happening too fast to coherently string together: black eyes, coarse fur, hellishly warm and musky breath, sharp points in his left arm, boiling anger, a fire sparking in his chest…

And then nothing.

He came to what seemed a few minutes later, not as a wolfadger's meal gurgling his last breaths, but as a killer standing and gasping above a circle of oozing red and dead beasts. His dark eco wound seared beneath his shirt. He clutched it, begging it to die down, only pausing to think about what had happened when it finally dimmed.

I turned again, didn't I? Jak bit his lip and stared at the dead wolfadgers. They were arrayed around him like some ritual sacrifice. He recalled vague memories of hearing their whimpering cries as they'd been cut, which explained the blood dripping from his sword. I did. And it's getting worse.

Sure, it'd saved his life, but he'd sworn since the Kunino incident that he'd never give in again.

"Shit," he cursed beneath his breath. "Precursors damn-"

"Hey, you okay!?"

The ottsel. Jak's heart skipped. Had he seen him? He stepped over one of the wolfadgers, wiped his sword on the grass in nauseated disgust, and peered over the ridge. A paw waved from the trap.

"I can't get out of this myself, ya know!"

Jak narrowed his eyes. First the jerky, now dark eco induced carnage? He slid down through rocks and brush to the gully. The ottsel grinned, then dropped his little jaw in horror. Whether it was because he recognized Jak as the sucker he'd stolen from, or because Jak looked like he'd just crawled from a fresh battlefield, Jak wasn't sure, nor cared. He sliced the rope with a curt sword swipe and let the trap crash to the dirt.

The ottsel crawled out with dizzy pawsteps, shaking his head. "You ever heard of lettin' someone down gently?"

Jak sheathed his sword and started to walk away.

"Hey, hey! Why are ya leavin'? I haven't even thanked you yet," the ottsel tugged at Jak's pant leg. "And ya look like you're about ready to take a nap in a grave, buddy. I don't even know how you're still walkin'!"

"What?"

"Your arm?"

Jak glanced down at his left bicep, not knowing how he hadn't realized it was that bad. Four punctures oozed through his white sleeve, not to mention, there were scratches down to his wrists on both arms. For some reason, it didn't hurt much. Was that another side effect of his eco poisoning? The thought soaked him in cold fear.

"And ya look a little pale, too. At least stay and rest for a bit?"

"Why? What else are you planning on stealing?"

The ottsel tried an innocent, toothy smile.

"Don't think I didn't notice."

The ottsel sighed. "Look, why do ya think I got caught in this trap in the first place?"

"Because you're a thieving little weasel?"

"Ottsel. And there were berries in it," he turned back to the trap and pulled out a handful, then continued speaking through mushy mouthfuls, "Ya live out here, you gotta find food to eat. Sometimes that food don't belong to you. Besides, that was the only time I've ever stolen anything. I wouldn't have done it if I weren't desperate! Especially for that jerky. What the hell kind of gross meat was that shit made of, anyways?"

Jak wasn't sure if he wanted to kick him or just keep walking. But the ottsel was making some sense. He had to patch himself up and he supposed the ottsel wouldn't just leave him alone.

He sighed and nodded. "Fine."

They followed the ravine until it widened and spilled down in a tumble of small waterfalls. Jak settled in a sunny patch next to the water and chose a smooth stone for a seat. The ottsel didn't say much – for once – but Jak could tell he was antsy with questions. Finally, after taking a drink from the stream, the ottsel dared speak, water and berry bits glistening on his whiskers as he did so.

"So, where'd ya learn to fight like that?"

Jak stared at the ottsel with a raised brow, then returned his attention to finding the bandages in his dirt-stained pack.

"What? It was impressive! I couldn't see much, but man," the ottsel shook his head in disbelief. "Those wolfadgers sounded like terrified little pups, that's for sure."

"Not as impressive as an annoying talking animal," Jak found a bundle of cloth scraps and pulled them out. "How about we play a game? I don't ask you questions about why you can speak, and you don't ask me questions about anything that just happened. Fair?"

Silence. Jak took it as if his point had come across clear enough.

Then, "Are ya some kind of soldier or something? You with one of the green tribes? Nah, they don't fight much," he glanced at Jak's hair, then his eyes. "Maybe red? Blue? I mean, it was just so awesome! Like I said, I didn't see anything from my vantage point, but with the way you screamed when we first met, I thought you were a real wimp. But then that happened and… you know what? Remind me not to piss you off, is all I'm sayin'."

"Too late."

The ottsel's whiskers drooped.

Jak got up and slipped his arm into the waterfall. The water ran cold and soothing over his wounds, which now stung more than before as the dark eco's effects wore off. He distracted himself by watching the ottsel.

How in the hell can he talk, anyway? Maybe I really am going insane?

At first, the ottsel had been grooming its tail, but then started batting at a butterfly that floated past like some bored cat. Jak couldn't quite place the ottsel's mannerisms. The way he spoke, how his facial expressions moved, and the understanding in his eyes seemed uncannily human. Then within an instant, it'd switch to something animal and its gaze would grow dumb.

He realized he'd felt the same at times in the past week. Just dully gazing on as he'd traveled miles untold, thriving on instinct, his existence punctuated with sudden flashes of human reflection. Then back to animal again. Moving, breathing, eating, and sleeping. Rinse, recycle, repeat.

Who am I kidding? There's nothing similar between us. I'm human and it's a dumb animal, nothing more.

But one that could talk. He huffed at himself in frustration and summoned some eco as he drew his arm from the water. Usually it came with ease, but now – his mood tempered with irritation – the green was thin and sparse.

"Come on," he muttered.

The ottsel perked his head and watched, little blue eyes bright with curiosity, but didn't say anything. Jak was able to seal most of his wounds and covered the rest in bandages. He was about to put the rest away when he noticed the ottsel was limping heavily. Guilt prickled at him. Had he hurt him when he'd cut him down from the trap?

"You… you okay there?"

The ottsel stiffened with surprise, "Yeah, just got a little banged up when the wolfadgers were swingin' at me. I'll walk it off."

"You're not gonna walk something like that off. Look, just… just come here."

"What?"

"Get over here before I change my mind."

The ottsel complied. Jak looked into the distance as he knelt and held out his hand, not wanting to make eye contact. He was just healing him because he felt bad, not trying to make a friend. Jak lifted him and ran eco over his front leg.

"Thanks. So… does this mean you're not still mad-"

"Now you're pushing it," Jak said as he let the ottsel down. "But you're welcome."

The ottsel proved harder to get rid of than Jak thought. They'd maintained a chilly distance all through the next few hours. He hadn't even squeaked a word as Jak ate, washed blood and dirt from his face and body, and packed his things, not even to ask for more food. Yet, when it came time for Jak to return to the road, the ottsel followed.

Jak didn't mind it for a while, thinking that perhaps they were simply using the same route. It was the only path around. But when the ottsel never veered off to whatever nest he called home and when Jade Forest was a green wall far behind them, Jak stopped, the warm dust of the road furling about his feet.

"What's the hold up, buddy?" the ottsel grabbed his leg and peeked around it. "More wolfadgers? They're not big fans of meadows, far as I know."

Jak pulled his leg away. "I'm sorry, but I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"'Bout what?"

"First off, I'm not your 'buddy'. Secondly, don't you have some hole to scurry off to? Or whatever ottsels live in? A home?"

The ottsel wiggled his nose at the word, thinking for a while. "Sorta."

"Then why are you following me?"

"Because I owe ya."

"Because you owe me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I swiped your jerky, ya saved my life, healed my leg… normal stuff you pay people back for."

Jak rolled his eyes and continued walking. The ottsel scampered to catch up after a moment, giving Jak a puzzled look.

"That okay with you?"

Jak was silent for a while. Then, "No."

"What? Why the hell not?"

"Jerky."

"Look, I already told ya: that was one time. I almost never steal."

"Except from me."

"I was desperate!" the ottsel huffed, then brought his voice low, "And it didn't taste that good, anyways. Look, it's dangerous out here. Ya can't just travel alone."

Jak shrugged. "I've been fine so far."

"Yeah, but think about it this way," the ottsel started walking on two feet, using his front paws to gesture as he continued, "Picture this: you're adventurin' on your merry way, all heroic and whatnot. Everything's been smooth sailing so far. You've bested beasties. You've scaled the most dangerous heights. You've won a night with a few babes that just couldn't resist… uh, well, whatever they like about ya-"

"Precursors, I'm flattered already," Jak said, crossing his arms.

"Life's going great, you think you're on top of the world. You go to bed, knowin' you're gonna wake up and do all the beast and babe slayin' one man could possibly handle in a day, but lo and behold! Something tries to sneak up on you while you're sleepin'. You're so caught in some dream that your useless human ears don't pick up the sound of its growling. But my ottsel ears, on the other hand… they pick up things real good."

"Could have fooled me."

The ottsel ignored his remark and continued, "So good, that I get your ass up in time and the two of us show those idiots not to mess with us. We kick their butts back to the Precursor age, we make a nice monster stew, and ya live to see another day. Make sense?"

"Anything else?"

The ottsel's whiskers twitched, as if he were asking himself why Jak needed any other reason. "Well, I'm good at scroungin'. Like so-"

He scrambled into the nearest brush. The bushes shuddered as Jak continued down the road. A minute later, the orange creature leaped back out, landed right on Jak's shoulder, and held a bunch of berries before his face. "See?"

Jak pushed the ottsel's paw away with one finger and dumped him off his shoulder. "Those are poisonous."

The ottsel got back up, dusted his arms, then flung them wide. "What else ya want!?"

"What I want is for you to leave me alone."

"Why? Who likes being alone?"

Jak never answered. The ottsel never stopped following.

Here the land stretched wide and open with waving grasses and wildflowers. Far to the east, the sea Jak had seen that morning gnawed at soft dunes instead of cliff, but now it was too far for him to take a detour and enjoy it up close. Plateaus dotted the north and westward distance; great rust-colored beetles of rock with bushy backs, shuffling through the plains, rice paddies at their sides like wings of layered glass.

Who tended them, Jak wasn't sure, but it meant two things: there was a village nearby and they were now in the Glass Meadows. Precursor pipes started to rise from the earth in the distance, their tubes glowing with blue eco as they wound north, confirming his suspicion. As they neared the first plateau, Jak could see figures toiling on the mosaic of paddies like little black insects roving through a great colony.

"We stoppin' there? I'm starvin'!"

"No, I'm headed a lot farther north. You can stop there, if you want. In fact, I wouldn't mind."

"Where up north?"

Jak closed his eyes in frustration. Does this thing know what a hint is? And why is it still following me?

He stared down at the ottsel, who padded along at his side like a faithful crocadog. Sure, they'd slept in the same ruin the night before. And yes, Jak had given him some food, saved him from wolfadgers, and healed his leg. But that didn't mean anything. He'd showed kindness to the people of Kunino, and where had that gotten him?

Jak found himself suddenly aware of the cowl over his nose and mouth again, still stinking of ashes and smoke. He needed to travel alone. Wolfadgers, he didn't mind much if he killed. He wasn't fond of the ottsel, no, but he didn't know if he would ever forgive himself if he caused it to meet the same fate.

Still, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to, for once, he thought. His grating voice is better than deafening silence, even if only a little bit.

There were no words for what stirred in his unconscious then, after that thought, only a memory. He recalled the way he'd emerged from the cave that morning, blinded by sun after so many days of shadow and rain. He'd felt the same the night before when his sight had met the ottsel's, their blue and humanlike understanding matching his own, peering across the fire from the dark.

"Haven," Jak finally murmured.

"What?"

"Where I'm headed."

"Goin' to 'the city where the past and future collide', eh? Well, that's what they call it, at least. In my professional opinion, it's more where desperation and murderous bums and an asshole of a baron collide. And don't get me started on how the streets smell. I was licking that putrid reek outta my fur for weeks-"

"You've been there?"

"Of course! Who hasn't?"

As they continued walking, an idea started forming in Jak's mind. He had a map and could always ask for directions if he ever got lost, but this ottsel had actually been to Haven before. It was the first time Jak realized just how intimidated he was by it, despite how many miles still separated them. He'd never navigated a city before. There were slavers, twisting streets like mazes, and if Samos hadn't been exaggerating, more gangs than dirty alleys for them to hide in.

If this ottsel was telling the truth...

"What's it like?"

"Big. Smelly. Lots of cogs and pipes everywhere, with warm steam coming from 'em." The ottsel frowned. "And other… certain things, too. When you're an ottsel, it's not too bad. When you're a human? You'd better watch out. Especially someone like you. Don't use your eco there, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, I've been warned already. Anything else?"

"Oh, I could tell ya lots of things. Like how the city's set up all vertical-like, stacked like bricks, with different districts on each level. The further up you go, the richer you are, and the Baron – he's like their king – has this gigantic palace on top in the Greenring District. The smell's nice up there. Flowers, ocean breeze that comes up over the big walls surrounding the whole place… and don't even get me started on the bridge leadin' into town. Ya ever seen gears as big as mountains before?"

The ottsel talked for hours as they crossed the Glass Meadows, the village and its paddies a distant glitter behind them. As the ottsel spoke, Jak's scowl broke down and he shifted through a wide range of reactions. Disgust. Amazement. Curiosity. Then came the stern determination of someone who had made up his mind, though his brow still occasionally furrowed with worry.

"-and the best part is, is that I got the food for free! Turns out, when people figure out you're a talkin' handsome ottsel, they scurry off like roaches and leave their plates just sittin' there. Ahhh…." the ottsel paused, licking his lips. "I ate good that night, and never better since. Never thought rice wine and roasted leaper would go together, but you'd be surprised-"

"Look, uh…"

"Oh, that's right! I never even introduced myself!" the ottsel scampered in front of him, stood on his tiptoes, and held up a paw. "The name's Daxter. I'd ask you yours, but I already overheard ya when you greeted the plant in that ruin. Shoulda been my first clue that you were different."

Jak stopped and crossed his arms. "Different?"

He expected another comment about the way he looked. His fists began to tighten and his heart hardened, preparing himself for the verbal onslaught that was about to rip open scars that, no matter how much time passed, never seemed to fully heal.

The ottsel only shrugged. "How many times do I gotta say it? Ya might be a little nutty and antisocial, and ya did screech at me when I first talked, but you're the first person that hasn't ran or torch and pitchforked me outta town. It's nice to be seen as human, is all."

Jak's glare softened. He nodded. "I get it."

"Good! Now, get down here and shake my hand. My arm's gettin' sore!"

"Fine," Jak knelt and extended his own, then pulled it away quick. "But first, let me ask you something."

"Ugh!" the ottsel started to hold up his arm with his other paw. "Yeah, get to the point!"

"I've never been to Haven before, and like you said, you owe me."

"Are you… are you going to let me come with ya!?"

The excitement in the ottsel's voice vacuumed away any hope Jak had of remaining stoic. A smile cracked the stoicism of Jak's face, but he buried it quick. He had to keep himself distant, if not stern.

"I find myself needing a guide, and you need… well, whatever you want from me."

When the ottsel didn't answer the indirect question, Jak tore down his cowl, rubbed his goatee in frustration, and continued, "Look, I'll give it to you straight: I don't need a friend. I need someone who can get me to and around Haven. But first, I've got some rules."

"Rules? What rules?"

"One, no more stealing. Two, we don't ask each other about our pasts. Three, you have to keep your mouth shut whenever we get near people, because I don't want to have to stand between you and a bunch of pitchforks. Four…"

Jak didn't know how to say his last rule without revealing too much. He looked to the reddening sky in irritated thought, assembled the right words, then stared at Daxter so intensely that the ottsel took a step back.

"I have some… anger issues. A bad temper. If I tell you you're irritating me and you don't stop, or if you ever try to sneak up or surprise me, or if we're ever in mortal danger, said temper will come out. I can't control it. Does that make sense?"

When Daxter's eyes remained blank, Jak sighed. "Make me mad, and you might end up like those wolfadgers back there. If I start getting angry and I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

"Is that why ya don't wanna talk about your past? 'Cause if you've got some weird murderer issues where you go on killin' sprees, we should-"

"Rule number two?"

Daxter's whiskers drooped. "Yeah, but-"

"Rule."

The ottsel jerked his head back. "Uggghhhh, fine! Now shake on it before my arm breaks off. You're killin' me, here!"

Jak hesitated for a short moment before finally taking Daxter's hand in his own. However, it was so small compared to his that their attempt to shake was awkward. Jak instead offered his finger, which the ottsel - glad for something a little less crushing - excitedly shook.

"Sounds good?" Jak asked.

"We've got a deal, Jakan."

"Just Jak. And thanks, uh... Daxter."

The grin that lit up the ottsel's face could have outshone the suns. They turned and walked on, tall and short, human and ottsel, the real suns sinking like great red eyes into a lid of earth to their left.

To their right stretched their shadows; two matching dark outlines, both the same height.