Stray

    Those fragments are like the fragments that fell from the gaps in the whole memory, pale and fine, making people unable to distinguish whether it is reality or a dream that is too long ago. Since the battle with Witherspoon, they've turned into a cold hand, stroking the back of Nemo's neck when he's most defenseless.

    Nemo can probably guess where they came from.

    When he was adopted by old Patrick, he didn't understand Common Tongue at all, and the words of others were just piles of meaningless syllables in his head. Before being attacked by Bagelmore, Nemo admitted that there was nothing special about himself - except that his memory was better than others, but no matter how good his memory was, he should not remember that there were no rules in the pile of ten years ago. noise.

    And now, they are gradually returning.

    Every little thing, every word said to others, every wrinkle in clothes, every word in books. All the details go back in time. New knowledge popped up from the back of his mind from time to time, and he was pretty sure he had never been exposed to them before—only the memories of six years ago were still hazy, with only a few afterimages and echoes.

    He couldn't figure out the law of memory regression, and the memory fragments were like blisters floating from the bottom of the water. They vary in size, float haphazardly, and obey some strange and puzzling law.

    Waking up earlier than this morning, the temperature rose, and Nemo slowly removed the blanket that Oliver was still clutching. White II was awakened by his movements, his tongue sticking out in the early morning air, with only two of his four eyes open. Everything was quiet and peaceful, until when the blanket was torn off, the pads of his fingers brushed against the other's soft hair - the uncomfortable blisters popped out of his mind again.

    Nemo now remembers every encounter with Oliver Ramon. Road Sign Town is not too big, but as far as he can remember—except for the first time, they have only met three times.

    When he was twelve years old, he went to help people run errands and bring news. The reward is one silver coin.

    Nimo walked across town and stepped into the front yard of Ramon's hotel for the first time. It was terribly hot at the time, and he felt sick all over his body and nearly suffered from heat stroke. Nemo can still recall that dizzy and restless feeling. And at the corner of the hotel, a teenager about his age hid in the shadows and looked at him.

    Light brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Oliver was even a little shorter than him at the time—they looked at each other for a brief moment, then slipped away down the wall.

    The second time was at seventeen.

    Debbie Wright, who was in her early ten years, was about to be led away by the mercenary group the next day, and she insisted that Nemo carry her to the candy store on the other side of town. It was a fine day, and Oliver was holding a crumbling box of vegetables in his arms, trying to kick the fallen potatoes back into the wooden box with his feet. So Nemo put Debbie down and helped the innkeeper's son stuff the potatoes back into the box—they nodded to each other, called out their names briefly, and said hello very perfunctorily. He still remembered Oliver's smile being a little stiff.

    The third time they escaped Signpost together, and have been in exile ever since.

    Nimo just remembered that young, familiar voice and was pretty sure it belonged to Oliver Ramon - when on earth did they talk? Or, when did he hear Oliver's words? Even if he didn't have the memory of six years old himself, Oliver wouldn't happen to have amnesia with him.

    And he's about to get an answer.

    Nemo rolled the blanket into a roll and fastened it back to the fuller goat with a strip of greasy sackcloth. He glanced at Oliver, who was still in a deep sleep, and suddenly felt his stomach tangled with tension. An instinctual resistance was piercing his brain, screaming frantically for him to give up.

    But he needs that answer, Nemo thought.

    But that wonderful sense of resistance did not disappear because of his firmness of mind.

    So in the days that followed, Nemo couldn't hide his absent-mindedness at all. Considering his situation, his teammates all expressed understanding - except for the occasional sneer of Grey Parrot, and even Jesse Dylan didn't break his mouth on the topic.

    This feeling of resistance peaked when they arrived at Caleb Village. As if an invisible claws were scratching at his guts and pulling him away from the village - Nemo punched himself in the stomach, barked his teeth and continued toward the village. Oliver, who was walking beside him, thoughtfully ignored his odd behavior.

     Caleb Village is more of a true oasis than a town on the edge of a desert. The village is so small that you can almost see the end at a glance. The village and the yellow sand are clearly demarcated by a strange hedge of plants. The dense shrubs form a low wall, which cannot cover the green scenery inside. The wind here is much softer than in the middle of the desert, with a refreshing dampness. The grass is soft, and it makes one's hair flutter when you step on it.

    Despite being on the border between the two countries, there is not even a military presence here. There were only two men dressed as soldiers lying under a tree at the entrance of the village, and one of them seemed to be sleeping soundly.

    White II, who followed them all the way, shrank uncharacteristically. It leaned down, its tail curled up.

    "We can't bring it in," Adrian said. "The knuckle monitor has the ability to kill plants. It's fine in the desert, but it's definitely not welcome here."

    "Just being a 'middle-level demon' is enough to make it unpopular." Jesse casually replied, "Captain, it's time to drive it away."

    White II struggled to raise his face and looked at Oliver pitifully. The four small eyes of the bone monitor lizard were extremely wet and full of sadness.

    "What do you want?" Oliver crouched down and looked at it.

    White II shook the bone shell on his body, as if thinking about something - the next moment, it began to deform in their sight.

    The hard white shell becomes thick fur, the four eyes become two, deflected to the sides of the head, and hard, curly horns protrude from its head. Within half a minute, another Fuller goat appeared in front of them. It even blew. Then he directly bit Oliver's trousers and dragged him in the direction of the village.

    "The 'mimic' of the devil." Jesse rubbed his chin and commented with interest. "It's kind of hard."

    Oliver slowly took back his trousers, ignoring Jesse: "I heard you guys are smart... Can you understand what I'm saying?"

    The fake goat nodded quickly.

    "If you can guarantee that you will not hurt people or kill the plants inside, I will take you in." Oliver said seriously, "I will take good care of you... If you do No, I'll definitely be the first to send you out."

    The fake goat nodded frantically, and licked Oliver's hand to please.

    "It's done." Oliver announced, shaking the saliva from his hand. "You said it wasn't malicious, didn't you, Mr. Cross?"

    The knight commander pinched his eyebrows and decided not to express his opinion on this.

    Simply greeted the soldiers at the door, and they easily entered the village wrapped in green. It was noon at this time, it was still a little hot outside, and there were not many people on the street. The atmosphere was calm and lazy, and the villagers didn't even show much curiosity—even though it was a little unnatural to bring two fuller goats, not many villagers gave them a second look.

    And just when Nemo was almost crushed by his own resistance, they finally arrived at the witch's residence.

    Nemo thought it would be a dark and dark corner of everyone's mouth - in fact, he guessed nothing but the edge. The villagers were not shy about talking about the eccentric witch, and even calmly pointed the way for them.

    When he arrived at the destination, he vaguely understood the reason - the house didn't look like a witch's residence at all.

    A very cozy cottage. The front yard is filled with all kinds of flowers, each clump is fresh and full of life, and the colors are just right. Shrinking wisteria-like clusters of flowers hung from the windowsill, and even half of the roof was covered with creeping vines studded with flower bones. This is what really happens in fairy tales.

    A chubby orange cat is lying on the front door of the courtyard, revealing its belly without any cover, and basking in the sun leisurely. The scenery was too soft and leisurely. Nemo wasn't even embarrassed to face his own resistance for a moment.

    "Witch?" He pointed to the orange cat with a fluffy tail, "Will a witch keep this thing?"

    "It's a cat anyway," Ann said in a rare shock, "Don't ask too much...that's not the point."

    An old lady walked out of the hut tremblingly with a watering can in her right hand. Her dress was not of the plain colour of old age, but of a lively style, with bright colours for this lovely garden.

    Nimo was sure she was definitely older than all the old men he had ever seen put together. Despite the rudeness, he was genuinely shocked that she was alive for a few seconds. The old man's hair was all white, horribly sparse, and had a dirty, scorched yellow. Her facial features were almost completely hidden by wrinkles and sagging skin, and her mouth was shriveled inwardly due to the lack of teeth. The old lady who was suspected of being a witch was just leaning on a cane in one hand and a watering can in the other, moving it carefully, as if she was carrying another person on her back. Every time she took a step, water would leak from the mouth of the watering can.

    The entire team fell silent.

    "Old man, there is something wrong with my companion's memory, we are here... uh..." Oliver found himself unable to say the words "please help" for a while. Even if they will definitely provide the corresponding compensation, he just can't open the mouth.

    "Which one has a memory problem?" The old lady arched her back even more, and she began to carefully water the flowers beside her feet. The orange cat, who was basking in the sun just now, quickly got up, jumped to the feet of the old man, and rubbed her skinny ankle back and forth.

    None of them answered the question.

    For the first time, the strange feeling appeared. It was definitely an old man who seemed to be dying, and they could even smell the rotten smell unique to the old man from a distance.

     But that voice definitely belonged to a young woman. Her voice was crisp, clear and powerful.

    (m..=)