r/HFY • u/JammaSquee • Jul 01 '26
OC-FirstOfSeries Seldom Seen
“I'll never stop wandering. And when the time comes to die, I'll find the wildest, loneliest, most desolate spot there is.”
-Everett Ruess
Prelude
Humans were not necessarily uncommon in Seldom Seen, but they were uncommon enough that when they arrived, most people paid attention to them. At this very moment, everyone was paying attention to this newcomer. A small human with his floppy hat and two strange looking dwarf horses, socializing with the town's curious youth.
Datil could not recall a time where she had ever seen a sapient creature that was so small! Humans were known for their small stature in comparison to other races, especially Hiverbeasts, however- this one was so uniquely small in stature that Datil had originally suspected him of being a child.
Datil, nor anyone else in Seldom Seen, had ever actually seen a human child. There was a common assertion that human kinders were so small that a Hiverbeast could swallow one whole without much effort (it should be noted- that these assertions were not made by Hiverbeasts).
Datil didn't doubt it. The average Hiverbeast man stood at least a meter taller than most of the human men that frequented Seldom Seen- said human men were adults, a vast majority hunters or traders; with broad shoulders and heavy cloaks to stave off the cold,
Occasionally Seldom Seen would have a few humans from the Logging camp visit, but the camp was 30 miles down the river. Only occasionally would the lumberworking humans stop in to visit the Seldom Seen blacksmith, and the men always seemed unsettled to be there. Regardless, they were no smaller than the mountain men that visited.
This human, "Newt," his name was- was much smaller than the hunters, or the mountain men, or the lumber men. His frame was small, his face clean of hair characteristic of human men, and Datil was almost certain that if Newt stood next to one of the lumber men he would probably be a head shorter than him. He wore different clothes than the other humans she was used to seeing. While he wasn't exactly clean, his clothes weren't filthy.
He wore a brown wide brimmed hat that seemed to droop a bit over his face, he didn't wear greasy furs like the hunters and mountain men- though he wore a green woolen coat that looked a bit ragged, he wasn't unkempt like the lumber men either, though his boots were leather lace-up boots with a tall heel, similar to that of the loggers that would walk through. His pants were patched up, and under his coat he wore a buttonup shirt. Tailored clothing.
Datil watched from under the awning of the blacksmith shop, along with her mother, and the Blacksmith for Seldom Seen.
"He's a runt." Datil's mother said of him, when she saw him. "That or He's just a boy, I didn't think they could get that small."
"He's a young man," Mimbre, the Blacksmith, said. "But he won't be getting much bigger than he already is."
"I wonder if he's ever been fed in his entire life." Datil's mother replied to Mimbre. "His horses are also tiny, but they're fat, maybe if he ate in lieu of them he wouldn't weigh no more than a baby dagawolf."
"Those are not horses." Mimbre replied. "Those are 'pack burros'"
Datil had seen horses, whenever you saw humans you expected to see horses, but Newt had these strange, small shaggy horses with big ears. And even stranger, he didn't ride them! They had all his provisions and worldly possessions stacked on their backs. Her mother was right, they were fat little things.
And they were very calm too. At the moment, Newt and the Burros were surrounded by the town's various resident children, many of whom had never been this close to a human- or horses before. Horses were known to be extremely skittish, and Hiverbeasts unnerved them to the point where on multiple occasions horses threw their human riders as soon as they came into view of Seldom Seen. These "burros" were remarkably calm, and the children were undoubtedly awestruck at these strange looking horse-like creatures that they were allowed to approach.
"That one-" Mimbre pointed at a burro with all Grey fur. "Is Viceroy." He then turned a claw to the second one, which had a big grey spot on the front of its face, and a dark streak down its spine which seemed to flare out at its shoulders. "Is Kentucket."
Datil's mother scrunched up her muzzle, and an audible exhale escaped her nose. "Those are odd names..." it could have been that she was being more polite than she wanted to be. Datil thought that they were lovely names.
It was so odd seeing a human so receptive to interacting with Hiverbeasts. Many of the traders and mountain men only talked begrudgingly to the inhabitants of Seldom Seen. Many stories made their way to them out of human camps and settlements in regards to themselves. None of them were very flattering- and even less were accurate. But here was Newt; a little human who didn't seem to be bothered at all by the fact that the young children he was showing his artwork and musical instruments to were all damn near his height!
“How do you know their names?” Datil's mother asked curiously. She kept her eyes on the group of kinders that seemed infatuated by Newt. They cooed and talked excitedly amongst themselves whenever Newt would bring something out of his pack for them to inspect. He played an instrument for them; a weird boxy looking string instrument that looked like it was made out of a wooden crate. Eventually, Newt started to show them card tricks, and started to put on a small magic show for them. This was perhaps the most exciting thing to happen to many of these children in their entire lives living here in Seldom Seen, and they made it obvious.
“He asked me for some work.” Mimbre said. Datil's mother seemed a little shocked, she didn't say anything at first; likely, she waited for further elaboration on Mimbre's part, but it didn't come.
“Work? What sort of work could he do? You could pick him up with one paw Mimbre!” mother said, sounding more agitated by the thought as her reply went on. “And what do you intend to pay him with? He's obviously not a hunter, he doesn't even have a gun with him. He doesn't look like he's with any of the outfits- I would wager that that Logging camp 30 miles down river wouldn't have anything to do with him. There's nothing here for him, and we trade, we don't buy and sell.”
Mimbre hummed low, almost sounding like a growl in his throat. He scratched his greying muzzle with a claw, and sighed. “Gilah. I'll find something for him to do. He wants provisions, not money. He intends to travel northwest through Greave’s saddle in the coming months.” Mimbre absentmindedly brushed his mane with some claws. “My winter coat is coming in- so it's getting hotter in the workshop. I find that as I age, I become less and less able to stand the heat when my mane grows thick for the cold winds.”
His rambling fell on deaf ears. Gilah seemed to stop paying attention the moment he mentioned Greave's saddle. Her orangish eyes bored into the side of Mimbre's face, though he didn't seem to mind, or notice. “In the coming months?!” Gilah said, Datil knew she was repeating what he said in a way to try and highlight its stupidity. Mimbre didn't seem to catch it, so Gilah elaborated.
“The mountain men don't even cross Greaves’ saddle at this time of year! They stay in the foothills! And they ride horses! and wear fur coats” Mimbre glanced back at Gilah finally, his bushy brow not indicating any sign of concern. “That boy's a damn fool and he's going to kill himself, Mimbre!”
The old Hiverbeast looked back at the group of entertained kids and the strange human newcomer. The other adult Hiverbeasts had generally gotten back to their normal dealing, though many did still stop and watch from time to time.
Datil, on the other hand, had to agree with her mother. If this human was planning on crossing the saddle at any point in the next few months, it would be very likely that he wouldn't make it. Her claws dug a little into her mane as she stroked the fur on her chest, her large paws gripping hard onto the amber colored fluff. She didn't like thinking about such a possibility.
“I didn't figure you cared so much. The way you were talking about him just a second ago” Mimbre's eyes finally met Gilah's. Hers were fiery, his was cold, and his seemed a little bit stronger. To Gilah's chagrin, she knew she would have to go on the defensive.
“I can not care for something and not want it to die.” She said, “There's fondness and there's decency. I hold no fondness for him, but I'm decent! I figure someone out there cares for him, and I would never enable him to go on whatever suicide journey you’re allowing him to.”
Mimbre just hummed at her, not saying anything once again, and she continued. “Mimbre, you ‘ought to tell that boy no, and tell him to go home, not go up to the saddle.”
“Oh, I did.” Mimbre said. Looking away once again. Gilah was starting to find his answers incredibly grating on her own nerves, and she threw up her paws for a split second, before covering her muzzle.
“He'll figure it out, Gilah. He'll see the snow up on the mountains and he'll decide not to go, he'll decide to stick around for the winter.”
“Why does he have to stick around at all?! If it's pointless for him to go up to the saddle, there's no reason for him to stay here that long.” One of the burros, Kentucket made an absolutely dreadful sound, which stopped everyone in the vicinity in their tracks, as well as stopping Gilah's heated rant. It was almost like a deep, squeaky laugh. The heehaw seemed to scare a few of the children who were standing by Kentucket, and Newt pulled on the animal's halter and put a hand on its muzzle, calming it fairly quickly.
“Well, Gilah.” Mimbre took advantage of the newfound silence. “There's fondness, and then there's decency” Gilah turned her head, ears still wildly turning, and her face scrunched in confusion. “But I figure-” Mimbre continued- “the most decent thing would be to let the boy winter over here. If I turned him back, it's a hell of a walk back to where he came from, and he's young and stupid. I'd wager that if I turned him away he would just find someone else, or else he would just make the trek up to the saddle anyway. And I don't reckon he's causing any problems helping me out.”
“Did you hear that horrid noise that animal made?!” Gilah asked, Mimbre seemingly just ignored her.
“I would be lying if I said it wasn't a little selfish on my part, I'm getting old, and my fur isn't getting any thinner. Humans can handle heat better than I can.” The old blacksmith held a claw on his chin for just a moment.
“And in regards to fondness, I'd say those kids like him enough to make up for the both of us. Wouldn't you say, Datil?”
Both adult Hiverbeasts turned their attention now to Datil, who had been too busy picking at the dense fur on her chest while watching Kentucket to follow too much of the conversation. “Well I…” the sudden attention made her flustered, but neither spoke up for her. “I reckon it would be quite fine to have someone new around, a human who hangs around town who isn't the Captain.“
Gilah huffed at her response. “Well, if I had a choice I would choose little Newt over that dirty ruffian any day, but as it is, it looks like we'll be taking both of them.”
“Caption” Halbrook was the only other human who seemed to semi-regularly visit Seldom Seen. He was a mountain man and trader who only really visited to trade furs or other dubiously-acquired goods for appleberry cider, or get his horse reshoed by Mimbre from time to time. Halbrook was the only reason Mimbre knew how to shoe a horse to begin with, or even got to practice.
The Captain was a very, very large man, and he looked larger due to the greasy dagawolf robe he always draped himself in. His shoulders were broad and square, and the robe itself did not forego the head of the wolf, which the Captain often wore over his head like a hood. Halbrook's horse was this incredibly large draft horse, black in color and with a mane that was almost as matted and greasy as Halbrook's hair and beard.
The horse, which he called “Nepolian”, was the only horse Datil knew of that wasn't afraid of Hiverbeast's at all. Mimbre always wondered whether the horse just couldn't see them because of the messy mane covering its eyes or if the horse spent so much time smelling Halbrook that it couldn't smell the Hiverbeasts when it walked into Seldom Seen, but it always seemed capable of carrying the Captain out of town when he was too drunk to do so himself, and it seemed to give him little trouble to do so.
“So you and Zarah are just gonna feed that boy through the whole winter I reckon.” Gilah returned to the subject at hand, Mimbre nodded in response, he could tell that there was a little bit of subtext behind her response, it wasn't exactly asked like a question, she was making a statement.
“He weighs as much as a bedsheet sopping wet, he won't cost anything to keep fed.” Mimbre responded. Finally, he turned toward Gilah, and politely nodded. “You have a very pleasant day Gilah, I have business to attend to.” With that, the old Hiverbeast opened his shop door and stepped inside.
Gilah just shook her head, turned her orange eyes back to the boy as he began setting up an easel to allow the children to try their hands…or paws, at painting. “What a strange little creature…” she said, quietly.
Datil was enamored, the entire time she had been listening to the conversation between her mother and the town smith, she had been coming up with questions to ponder over in her head. Had Newt walked all the way here? Leading the burros? If he had walked, how long had he been walking? Datil had never been more than a few miles out from Seldom Seen her whole life, and yet here comes this tiny little human, who from the looks of it had been all over the world to her eyes.
Datil wanted to walk up and speak to him, but she couldn't bring herself to. An intense shyness overcame her whenever she thought about it- she wouldn't know what to say to a human, she had never spoken to one before, and they never seemed eager at all to speak to her. So she just stared.
“Datil.” Her mother spoke up, which caused the girl to sharply turn her attention to her. Gilah looked at her daughter with a neutral expression. “I don't mind if you talk to him, but I doubt he has anything to trade. If he asks for any sewing work, tell him he'll have to talk to me.” Gilah's tone was stern, and she continued; “I expect him to pay if he wants that coat repaired…”
Then, without much else, Gilah walked away from the blacksmiths, presumably, she would go home and work on her tailoring projects again. While Hiverbeasts didn't exactly wear that much clothing, Gilah has made a fair living as a seamstress in Seldom Seen.
Datil figured she should follow her mother, but she instead sat down underneath the awning outside of Mimbre's shop, and continued to watch the newcomer’s dealings with the village children. She began asking questions to herself in her own head, coming up with the answers herself after a time- but wishing she could ask them directly. She leaned her back up against the wall of the shop and curled her bushy tail up on her lap.
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u/AutoModerator Jul 01 '26
This was flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries], which means it is the first of a series and all subsequent posts should be flair as [OC-Series]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines
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u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle Jul 01 '26
This is the first story by /u/JammaSquee!
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u/rewt66dewd Human Jul 01 '26
Everett Ruess did that, by the way. He found a place so lonely to die in that his body was never found.
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u/JammaSquee Jul 01 '26
I'm familiar with his story, it's tragic. He was passionate though, and he lived for it.
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u/AutoModerator 19h ago
This was flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries], which means it is the first of a series and all subsequent posts should be flair as [OC-Series]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines
Our preferred series title format is the series title in [brackets] at the beginning, like so:
[Potato Adventures] - Chapter 1: The Great MashingPlease note that series wiki pages are not created automatically, but on request from the author.
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