Chapter Text
Moving had, all things considered, been a very straightforward process thus far. Although Schlatt had yet to build much of a base or house, he’d still found himself a nice and secluded island. A lonesome strip of land with a lively river separating it from the mainland, far enough out from the rest of the group he’d traveled with to avoid unwanted visitors, yet still close enough to travel into town very rarely if need be.
It was nice, he’d concluded after only a few days spent working the ground and building up his roots. He hadn’t socialized much with the group he’d traveled with anyways, so he held no qualms about his relative isolation. He’d never exactly been one for the city in all of its bustling and busy glory anyways. Rather, he was much more suited for this life. The one promised to him whenever he’d been coaxed into joining the other settlers’ trek westward, expanding into uninhabited and empty lands chock full of resources and potential.
A life void of unwanted conversation and bad manners, lacking the unease, anxiety, and everything that made Schlatt want to headbutt somebody. A life on lands that stretched, empty and natural, far past the horizons of his vision. A life lived in quiet, only the faint sounds of his radio or the crunching of grass making it past the bubble of isolation he’d found himself in (or rather, created for himself).
—
Schlatt absentmindedly hummed along to a tune playing from his radio. The steady beat of the music fell in line with the thud of his axe against the tree he was chopping down more often than not, and the birds seemed to be making a considerable effort to stay in tune with the song. Everything was working in tandem with one another, void of the hectic shouts and ongoings of city life.
His axe stuttered and fell just short of the tree as a sudden bleat broke the easy atmosphere. The birds squawked and flew away into the clouds, and even the rhythmic sound of the tide of the river lapping against his beach seemed to stutter and fade away. He almost disregarded it as a trick of the nostalgic mind, born of that odd melancholy that always seemed to creep up on him in these lonesome moments.
But then it happened again, sharper and louder now than it had been before, and Schlatt’s heart jumped and whined at the sound.
His legs were moving before he even processed what the sound was, guiding him out of the wooded area that occupied a good chunk of his island and towards the empty expanse of plains that he’d designated as his chest, or house, area. His movements weren’t exactly conscious; he vaguely processed as he hurried towards the cry.
Maybe it’s instinctual, he thought. His instincts didn’t really present themselves often, mostly due to his solitude, he was sure. Goats were often social beings, and well, Schlatt didn’t exactly consider himself to be the most social of creatures. Especially not with other goats.
But this sound, the one that had sent him scrambling and moving before he even made the conscious effort to do so—it was uniquely goat-like. Enough so that it reignited whatever was left over of his worn instincts.
He still expected his mind to be playing some cruel trick on him as he reached his chests. Bringing nightmares of a childhood long since passed to the real world—torturing him with memories and fantasy alike. But it wasn’t a trick, and Schlatt found himself caught and tense with shock as he finally caught sight of what was making that horribly needy sound.
Before him stood a kid, lanky and twitchy, excitedly rummaging through his chests.
And that by itself may have been surprising, provided that he was so far out from anybody else. But what really took him by surprise was the fact that it was actually a kid. Not a child, non-hybrid or entirely human, but a kid. A bleating, giddy, and nubby little kid with fluffy greyish white ears and a skittish way of moving about.
Schlatt stepped closer slowly, and his ears twitched as he finally managed to make out the kid’s words.
“-So much chicken, Bear!” The kid giggled, and Schlatt tensed further. “Yes! See?”
He watched as the kid pushed a plate full of his chicken towards what Schlatt then realized was a stuffed, purple bear sitting on the ground beside her. Well, that explains who “Bear” is, then.
He continued to watch silently, his grip on his axe tightening as a small and utterly foreign feeling wormed its way into his fast-beating heart. The kid was dirty and presumably far too skinny, he observed, her stained clothes ripped at the hems and her little bones visible and poking out against pale skin. She continued to rummage through his belongings, and Schlatt swallowed thickly as a rusty part of his heart clenched and whined at the sight. All of a sudden he was itching to move again- pushed forward by something internal and instinctual.
And so he did. He stepped closer. He didn’t know what else he was supposed to do, though, as his instincts didn’t seem to stretch that far, so he did what he did best.
“Who the fuck are you?” He blurted, loud and rough, amidst the relative peace of the rest of his island.
Evidently, though, maybe a little too rough, he noted as the kid froze and bleated helplessly, her ears flattening against her head. She turned, slowly, and Schlatt’s heart kicked in retaliation to his own brashness as he caught sight of her expression. The kid looked terrified and young. Young enough to still be attached to her doe’s hip helplessly, and young enough for her horns to be just coming in.
What the fuck is she doing out here?
”I’m Katie.” The kid managed weakly, her voice wobbly and teetering towards a bleat.
He huffed and tried to ignore the way his heart jumped with instinct. This was the exact opposite of what he was looking for whenever he moved here. “And just what in the hell do ya’ think you’re doing here, Katie?” He pushed and watched as the kid went a little wide-eyed, her gaze darting almost pathetically from the chest to Schlatt before she managed a tiny reply.
“M’ hungry.”
Then she bleated, needy and natural for a child at her age to do in distress, and Schlatt’s bones itched with a strong urge to be closer—to fix whatever made her cry out like that. He didn’t move an inch though, and in fact, he (very valiantly) resisted it this time. He pushed back against instincts that he thought had long gone dormant, instincts that he really wasn’t sure he’d ever been inundated with to begin with.
But at the end of the day, instincts were natural. Flaring and strong against even the steadiest of minds.
“Jesus,” he breathed gruffly, his free hand coming up to slowly run over his nose and down to the stubble on his chin in irritation. He was both angry with the kid for disrupting his peace, and angry with himself for being unable to resist the whims that so plagued him.
The kid, unhelpfully, seemed to take his bout of relative silence as a chance to speak, which was the exact opposite of what Schlatt needed right now. “And you have lots of chests,” She pointed at his rows of chests as she spoke, her ears unflattening themselves and now standing up eagerly. “So... maybe we can share, I think! We are supposed to share.” The kid looked hopeful and all too proud of herself for that, and Schlatt could hardly stomach her unwarranted audacity.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. This wasn’t the way that he was expecting for this day to go. He had an entire list of things to fix up around the island, and a hungry kid wasn’t on that list. The hand on his face fell back to his side, and his eyes slowly opened again.
He hoped that by the time that he opened them, the kid would be gone and this all would have been some elaborate trick played on him by his brain. His luck really must’ve been shit that day, though, because the fucking kid was still standing there whenever he looked down. Damn it.
“Where’re your parents at?” Schlatt asked as he stepped closer, next to his chest and towering over the kid. To her credit, the kid—Katie, he guessed, didn’t budge. She stood as tall and as confidently as her small stature would allow her to.
It might’ve been endearing had the circumstances been far, far different than they currently were.
“I dunno,” She proclaimed, and Schlatt watched as her steady pride faltered a little. His instincts whined unhelpfully, and Schlatt found himself kneeling down to her level. He began to rummage through his chests, eyebrows furrowed in irritation.
“Whaddya’ mean ya’ don’t know?” He pushed, before another very glaring and very significant question appeared in his head. “And how the fuck did you get here, anyways? We’re on a fucking island.”
Schlatt had gathered more than a few plates of food by then, enough to suffice his needy instincts. So he turned to face the girl. They were eye to eye now, and only then did he realize that the kid had folded in on herself a little bit, ears lowered and nose twitching restlessly.
“I said I don’t know!” She reasoned, her little fists clenched up at her side. She didn’t answer his second question, but Schlatt didn’t exactly notice, too busy catching the small details of the kid that he’d missed before from so far away.
Her state was almost painfully worse from up close, with hollowed cheeks in place where chubby ones should have been and her nose pale in comparison to the bright pink noses that healthy babies often had. His heart kicked again, but Schlatt didn’t let it go any further.
He couldn’t. He had far too many things to do that day—far too many things that didn’t involve caring for somebody else’s bratty kid.
With a resigned sigh he beckoned the kid closer before dumping the plates of food he’d gathered into her waiting arms. “Here, geez.” He huffed. “Now go and find your parents, yeah? Go home. Tell ‘em to give ya’ a bath too, Jesus.” And with that he stood. In spite of lingering instincts and the haunting memory of needy and bleating cries.
“But-“ She tried.
”Nuh-uh. None of that. Off my fuckin’ island, kid. You got no business being here, really, and I don’t want ya’ here. Go home.”
His heart whined and pushed against his ribcage stronger than it ever had before as he watched the girl pause and then shrink. Her too-big ears flattened against her head and her little bobtail tucked itself between her legs. He couldn’t let it go on any longer, though, so he stepped closer. He beckoned with his hands, shooing the girl away and towards a tiny, rickety boat he’d (thankfully) spotted floating along his shoreline.
She stumbled a little on clumsy feet and struggled to pick up the dirty bear with her two armfuls worth of food before finally relenting. She shuffled backwards.
“Thank you, mister.” She bleated sadly before turning, her little head ducked and her tail still tucked sheepishly. Schlatt shuddered, still trying to fend off instinct clawing at his ribcage relentlessly.
“Yeah, whatever, just-“ He groaned. “Don’t come back.”
And by then she might’ve been too far away to hear, but Schlatt didn’t care. He didn’t watch her go. He couldn’t, really. His expression was pulled tight in an almost pained manner now, his emotions tangled and crossed in a way that he had a hard time processing.
Whatever.
Schlatt steeled himself again, shoulders tense and drawn in a way they hadn’t been since he’d left the city. He had too much shit to do to dwell on a crying kid.
A crying and hungry kid.
He sighed shakily while shaking the thought from his head before forcing himself to walk away. Back to the forested area he'd occupied before. Back to his isolated peace.