The Anti-Quest

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There weren’t always daily fires from their angry breath or scattered quakes from their earth-moving roars. There wasn’t always terror, internalized in the residents of the exterior hills, as they attempted to continue living their former, routine lives.

The valley used to be filled with life and cheer. The river ran, the flowers swayed, the birds greeted the skies with song. The Fest of the Three Moons was held in the valley every Vasar, and the flowers and dryads would awaken to welcome the bright light of the Moons with graceful dances of gratitude while those who dwelled in the vicinity drank and dined.

Now the valley is dry, and the nymphs of the land are root-bound.

There weren’t always cracks in the earth of the Plumnoth plains. The Dehydration started slowly at first but has exponentially sped up since Leader Valdova started his rule. Valdova deprioritized all efforts to sustain the natural water sources. Humans have access to Zere after all, the concentrated supplement that maintains nourishment.

The rest of us aren’t so lucky. Valdova reduced our access, and now we have to ration Natural Water strategically.

The streets of the city-center used to be lively; they weren’t always bleak and somber. They were filled with humans and creatures alike, browsing the street market or sharing lunch on a patio along the road. We would buy bread and produce at the market and enjoy our lunch breaks at communal tables that were built atop the brick and cobblestone remains of Plumnoth’s past. Most traces of our once-robust history are now gone, or reimagined by the humans.

The workday wasn’t always desolate and hopeless. We used to travel to work with relative joy, greeting the doves or waving to the mail-centaur on his route. Work was still a long, 12-hour workday, but we used to get by from the small, friendly connections that made Plumnoth what it was.

Our day-to-day has not changed. We are still expected to work, keeping up with our daily tasks that seem to grow exceedingly menial as the world of Plumnoth reverses course. It’s quite numbing, continuing on in our city jobs that fixate on growth and gain while our globe’s integrity crumbles.

From my workstation that day, while reviewing customer feedback on the fashion of our latest jumpsuit design, I watched out the window as Monith walked by on all-fours. Monith is a bear. Bi-pedalism in four-legged creatures was recently banned by Valdova. The workday continued to drag.

Mindy’s remains the one place of respite.

I got off the high-speed train after work, veered left down a cobblestone path off the main road, and saw the unassuming square brick building thirty yards away. I undid my hair as I walked there, removing the strategically placed pins that piled my hair atop my head to hide my horns. It felt good to free them.

“Hi Girdas. Hi Bart,” I said as I approached the two shoebill storks who serve as bouncers outside the bar. They are harmless, but the humans fear their prehistoric appearance.

“Hey Uden,” replied Girdas as I drew nearer. “Is pre’y glum in theya todaye.”

“Can’t remember the last time it wasn’t,” I replied.

The barkeep Mindaugas, Mindy for short, was taking an order right near the door as I walked in. He greeted me with a “hey hun,” and then nodded his horns towards the rest of the regulars. He’s a minotaur.

Before joining the rest, I stopped at the cubbies and unlaced my boots. My hooves clacked as I stepped out of them. I changed out of my structured work jumpsuit and replaced it with a green, linen tunic that ties closed in the front. I absentmindedly smoothed out the fur on the sides of my legs as I passed other tables to get to my usual spot.

“Hush hush, everyone, the double agent approaches.” Selinti slowly licked her paws while outstretched on a log, looking up at me through her lashes while she spoke.

“Hush hush, Selinti,” mocked Zhys, as he swung above her head. “You’d dress human too if you could hide these.” He swatted the black tufts at the top of her tall ears and swung away quickly before she could swat back.

“Don’t patronize the girl,” said Sue as I sat on a stump. She hooked her tail onto a branch and outstretched her body, using her front feet to grab two drinks off of Mindy’s tray as he passed. Zhys swung past, taking the amber-colored drink from her and handing it to me in one swoop, then jumped down and perched next to me as usual.

Since Mindy’s is rarely, if ever, visited by humans, it’s the one local establishment that still has inclusive seating. Branches, ropes, and ivy decorate the walls and ceiling. Logs, stumps, and small ponds scatter the dirt floor, and creatures are welcome to burrow or nest as they please.

We sat in our usual corner, which offers proper seating for our group. Selinti, lynx, lounged lazily on a giant log as always, her light brown fur the same color as the dirt on the floor below.

Zhys and Sue tend to stay overhead. Zhys is constantly swinging, climbing, or moving about in one way or another, making him a blur of red, white, and black. His white fur atop his black face is always wind-blown and standing straight up, making him look like the most unkempt monkey you’ve ever seen.

Sue, short for Sumeile, often holds onto a branch with her tail, lowering herself down to tame Zhys’s fur. She’s not just any porcupine but a prehensile-tailed porcupine, and very proud of it. She can often coerce humans to treat her kindly, due to her sweet stance and squishy nose, but she’s not afraid to use her talons or quills just the same.

“How is it out there today, Uden dear?” Sue asked me.

I crossed my legs and took a sip of my drink before I started the daily updates with a sigh. “More regions are discussing full creature banishment, saying they should return to their natural habitats.”

“Well good thing my natural hab is right here at Mindy’s,” joked Zhys.

“Human fingerprints are now required to get into my office building,” I continued. Zhys outstretched his hands in front of his face and cocked his head side-to-side while examining them.

“Valdova’s court still contains two creatures, the ape and the fox,” I went on. “The ape is a clear Humanist, but the fox recently voted against banning creatures from the train, so it seems he’s coming around.”

“It’s about time,” agreed Selinti.

“And lastly,” I said, ticking off the updates on my fingers, “The - “

I was interrupted by the front door bursting open, the bell at the top jingling frantically. At first it seemed like it was caused by a strong gust of wind, but looking down I saw Ver, squirrel, running into the center of the bar.

“Everything is dying!” he proclaimed, throwing his front paws up in the air. “Dying, dying, trees dying, grass dying,” he scampered throughout the bar muttering to himself. “Water drying, bugs dying, oh everything is dead,” he huffed as he joined our circle and put his paws to his face, pulling down his cheeks in despair. We all looked at him blankly, accustomed to his exaggerations.

“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say. The Dehydration is getting worse,” I stated to the group.

A general grumble filled the bar. Ver’s entrance had drawn in the attention of all patrons, and my confirmation of his woes broke everyone into their own conversations once more.

“Valdova has appointed more security dragons, so their weight and fire is only worsening the planet’s path to desolation,” I elaborated. “And since the Creature Defense Council is being pushed out of Convocation, there’s seemingly no chance of rehoming the dragons.”

“Even though most humans hate them too,” added Zhys. I nodded and mouthed “yup” in his direction.

“Oh, I just don’t understand,” fussed Sue. “What good do they do him anyway? Doesn’t he know we’re living in fear of them?”

“It’s what he wants,” drawled Selinti.

“But the humans, why do they allow his rules?” continued Sue. “There are some good humans out there and I just don’t - ”

“Stop sympathizing, Sue,” Selinti criticized. “They’re all human. They’re all the same.”

“They’re not all bad,” teased Zhys. “Our faun friend here is human half the day and she’s fine,” and he climbed up my shoulder and jumped to a vine to crookedly smile at me from afar.

I glared at him. “If I didn’t act human, none of us could afford to be here right now. Unless you want me to stop picking up the bar tab…”

“I work sometimes!” piped Ver. He stood up tall so we could see a patch of blue on his stomach.

“Oh Ver,” I said, “Are you still letting them test on you??”

He ran in circles around himself. “It’s money! I get enough for a week!”

I noticed the end of his tail fur was bare, as if it had been burned off. “What did they do to your tail?!”

“Oh that,” he showcased his tail to the group and chuckled. “That’s just from a game I play with the dragons, they love it. Not really. I love it. They - hey who’s the newbie?” He interrupted himself and pointed toward a booth in the corner.

There sat a human-sized figure, hooded in a crushed-velvet, mauve cloak. They drank a dark wine, freshly refilled by Mindy, and as he passed us on his way back to the bar, Ver scampered up to sit on his shoulder.

“Who’s the newbie?” repeated Ver right into Mindy’s ear.

Mindy put his head down and gestured to gather us all in, whispering so only our group could hear.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. They’re ordering a lot and I need the business, so don’t you dare scare them away.” He abruptly shrugged Ver off his shoulder, flung a bar towel there instead, and returned to the bar to refill a drink for Rimas, tortoise, the town drunk.

“Who cares?” said Selinti, as she rolled to her side and slowly rested her head onto the log. “I have not the energy to dwell on such a minuscule concern given the state of our world.”

Zhys swung casually above her head. “Sheesh Sel, you gonna single-handedly set the planet straight again, if that’s all you think about?”

“I would if I knew how,” she replied disheartenedly.

“Yes, but how?” questioned Sue. “That’s the question. What can we do?” She continued to fret about with her paws, and Zhys kindly swung over to her branch to put his arm around her.

“Well to finish what I was saying, though, I learned today - ” I tried to continue but was interrupted by a loud hiccup from the bar.

“Deep in Plumnoth doth she loom,” sang Rimas loudly. “Bloom de loom de doom…” he drunkenly slurred.

“Oh good rendition today, best we’ve heard yet,” Ver stood and clapped excitedly, while Selinti simultaneously muttered, “Nonsense.”

I continued once more. “The word going around today is that some human scientists have been working in secret with centaurs and griffins.” I spoke quickly so as to not be interrupted again. “They’re reading the stars and processing dirt or something, I don’t know, but they predict human survival in the not-so-distant future will fully rely on jumpsuits, Zere - ”

“- things we can’t get,” contributed Mindy as he walked past with a tray.

“Exactly - things humans can only get from Valdova now,” I concluded.

“That’s his goal?” asked Sue in amazement.

“He wants them reliant, I guess,” I said with a frown.

“And us extinct.” Selinti said what everyone was thinking. We sat in silence for a minute, sipping our drinks while looking at the ground, our thoughts only interrupted by Rimas’s murmurs nearby.

“Well, they can’t kill me,” said Ver decidedly. He continued on with dramatic arm gestures. “They’ve tried. So many times,” he pointed to his dyed stomach fur, “and they can’t. I won’t. Not happening baby.”

We softly chuckled at his fervor.

“Is there anything we can do, Uden?” Sue asked me.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied with a shrug. “Nobody amongst the humans knows how to fight his plans either at this point.”

We sat in group commiseration, sipping our drinks and staring at nothing. This general glum mood, as Girdas informed me of upon entry, was now the regular tone for the bar.

“I used to love Plumnoth,” Selinti sighed. “Now I hate it here.” It broke my heart to see Selinti, once full of zest, so defeated.

Zhys left his perch next to Sue and hopped onto Selinti, who was still laying on her side. “I would fix it if I could too, Sel,” he said, and lay himself on her stomach in a sideways hug.

More of Rimas’s singing interrupted our long silence. “She looms, she rests, she asks a quest- *hiccup* -tion… ‘twas the last, none left.”

The rest of us were unfazed, as Rimas regularly recites traditional Plumnoth lullabies, hoping others will join him, but Zhys jumped up off Selinti’s stomach to the branch above him and said, “Quest!”

We looked at him.

“Rimas, you wise old owl,” he laughed while swinging to the bar behind us to slap Rimas on the shell. Zhys walked on his hind legs down the bar towards us and continued talking over Rimas, who was now reciting a rhyme about his actual species in a corrective tone.

“A quest!” repeated Zhys. “Let’s go on a quest to fix everything! We’ll seek answers, encounter mysterious guides,” he said spookily, “and then -” he backflipped from bar to log, “ - we save Plumnoth, defy Valdova, rid the planet of evil and go back to happier times!” He clapped his hands and took a stance as if to say “ta-da.”

I laughed, the first real laugh in days. Sue smiled. We all called Zhys crazy.

“What’s crazy? Sorry to break it to ya,” he crouched to whisper, his white fur looking wilder than ever as a result of his recent acrobatics, “but we’re probably gonna die either way. Might as well die trying!”

“I’ll fight to the death!” declared Ver, and scurried to Zhys’s side. Selinti sat up on her log, clearly thinking.

Sue stuttered, “How… sorry loves, but how will we go on a quest when we don’t know what we’re trying to do?”

“We’re trying to save Plumnoth, defy Valdova, rid the planet of evil, yadda yadda,” said Zhys. “What, did she not hear me?” he turned and asked Ver.

“Yes, but how?” Sue asked, this time less hypothetically than before. “Quests begin with a riddle to solve or map to follow. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“No, she’s right,” said Selinti. “We haven’t been given a task. We wouldn’t know what we’re doing,” she scoffed. Settling back down on her stomach, she said, “What, we’re going to wander the globe hoping we discover a curse to break or a magic fairy to tell us what we need to find to set the globe straight again? Some quest.”

The shimmer of hope I’d seen, so briefly, felt extinguished. Mindy stopped to replenish our drinks, and after a low murmur of “thanks,” Ver held his small beer stein up as if to toast.

“Quest shmest,” he said. “What’s in a name? Quest, adventure, journey, whatever. If we don’t think it’s a quest, call it an anti-quest. We’ll wander. We’ll have hope. It’s something. It’s a way for us to try. To figure out how to fight for our planet, and our fellow creatures, and the rights we held on this once lively land.”

He held his drink in the air still. Zhys nodded once at him and lifted his arm as well. “To having hope. I’m in.”

Selinti, Sue, and I exchanged looks, as if to ask one another, “Shall we indulge in their hopeful optimism?”

Sue gave in first. Her drink held up in both paws, her feet and prehensile tail stabilizing her on her branch below, she said with a smile, “You’ve convinced me. Even if it leads to nothing but memories with dear friends, I’ll accompany you on the anti-quest.” Ver and Zhys cheered.

“Hope,” I said with my eyes closed, “is a really nice thing to think about right now.” Looking at Sue, Zhys, and Ver, all looking back at me with anticipation, I raised my glass. “Let’s try.”

Zhys clapped his paw against his glass, and Ver spun around himself. It was Selinti’s turn to have all eyes on her.

“Well if you’re all there,” she said, still lying low on her stomach but giving away a hint of excitement through her twitching ears. She nodded at her drink dish below to contribute to the toast and said, “To our anti-quest adventure.”

Cheerful sounds abounded. Chitters and laughs and glasses clinking. There were variations of “to hope!” and “to adventure!” and “to an anti-quest!” Even Rimas slurred “to an antique fest!” and we all laughed harder. The morale of our corner of the bar was significantly higher for the next few hours.

“Perhaps we should start at Zvoruna forest,” Ver brainstormed, “or River Upin. Maybe there’s ancient knowledge there.”

“The Shvent family, you know, the warblers up north,” said Sue, “their ancestry here goes back centuries.”

I had grabbed a notepad from Mindy and was writing these ideas down as they spoke.

The rest of the evening was spent this way. Planning and brainstorming, cheersing and drinking together, and collectively feeling more joyous than we had in weeks. The bar slowly emptied as the night continued. Rimas was half retreated into his shell, occasionally snoring and jerking himself awake from the sound.

Lost in our potential adventure, none of us had noticed that the velvet clad stranger was the last patron to remain with us late into the night.

Mindy joined our circle, having refilled us for last call. He expressed kind interest in our discussion, now quite lively thanks to the number of drinks consumed. After a little while, he turned from his stump next to me and whispered so that only I could hear, “Sorry kid, but I have to ask you to pay up tonight. Your tab is at the bar whenever you’re ready.”

He grunted slightly and grabbed his knees to hoist himself to standing, patting my shoulder as he departed the group. He didn’t say it, but I understood what he was thinking.

I was surprised by how heavily my heart sank. I had just been obliging Ver’s and Zhys’s imaginations after all. I never actually expected us to go questing. But the escape from reality, even just for the evening, brought me feelings of lightness and fulfillment I hadn’t felt in months.

Mindy’s reminder sent me crashing back down to my regular, pragmatic way of thinking. We had to pay our tab. We had to pay to live. We had to pay rent and for food and, if planning an adventure, we’d have to pay for gear, lodging, travel, maybe even weapons or guides along the way. My salary wouldn’t cover this, and I always provided for my friends when I could, since their work options were limited under Valdova.

At the bar, I pulled out four light-pink notes to pay our tab from the week. I headed back to rejoin the group, tucking my wallet back into my tunic pocket and feeling noticeably deflated of the joy I’d felt just moments earlier.

“Honey?” said Sue, noticing this. “What’s the matter?”

“Reality,” I huffed as I sat back down.

Selinti smiled sadly and nodded, as she’d likely been thinking this all along but had allowed herself to pretend.

“Money, my job, rent,” I went on. “There’s no way I can leave for an undetermined amount of time to follow this...”

I waved my hand at all our planning notes and tipped my head back to finish the last sip of my drink. Mindy walked behind me, patting my shoulder again with sympathy, as he carried the check to the mauve, velvet cloak wearer in the corner. My head followed him as he walked, and I noted with indifference that the stranger was still there.

I had single-handedly popped the bubble we’d all been playing in for the past two hours. Tails and ears drooped around the circle. We’d gotten lost in a fantasy, encouraged by alcohol, and the reality of life was hitting us harder because of the momentary escape.

Ver tried to live in the fantasy a little longer. “But what if we… I mean we could… let’s just…”

But no one entertained it this time.

“Maybe we can plan again sometime though,” said Zhys, jumping down to the ground and starting to pick up our empty glasses, “because it was fun to have a purpose, even if just for a bit.”

Sue started heading down her branch as well. “It sure was, love.”

We’d started standing, stretching, and tidying up our space when the bell above the door jingled, and we all turned our heads to see the stranger leaving the bar.

“Last ones here,” I started to mumble while brushing off my stump, but I was drowned out by Mindy’s loud laugh and a joyous but confused exclamation of his choice expletive. He was holding in his hands the open checkbook, which the stranger had left at their table.

Ver quickly scampered across the room and up his shoulder, looked at the book in Mindy’s hands, and started to squeak. He ran down and headed back toward us, gesturing and pulling at Mindy, still dumbfounded, to follow.

Mindy handed the tan, linen-bound book that contained the customer check to Sue, now at the bottom of her branch. She opened her mouth but said not a word, and passed it to her left to Zhys.

I peered across to try to see what the fuss was about, but only saw Zhys thumbing through what looked like the standard receipt and some notes to pay the bill. His smile grew wilder as he examined the contents further, and he jumped on Selinti’s back, stretching his arms and the book in front of her so that she could see, too.

Selinti turned her head to me while Zhys approached me with the book at last and she said through a purr, “We just might have a quest after all.”

Selinti, Sue, and Ver all watched me eagerly as Zhys handed me the book. Inside was the regular bar tab receipt in the left pocket with three green notes tucked behind to cover the bill and tip. The right pocket’s contents, however, were unexpected, and clearly what caused the group to stare and await my reaction in an excited silence.

I’d never seen an orange note in real life up until that moment, and rarely had I encountered blues. But flipping through the notes in the right pocket, there must have been ten orange notes, twenty blues, and a handful each of greens and light pinks. On the top of the stack, tucked so that it folded over the pocket, was a torn off piece of the receipt that contained a message.

“Five that have the power have been found. Only you can turn the world back ‘round. I hereby fund your anti-quest - may luck be on your side.”