Stray

However, they did not encounter any other test takers.

There were only endless trees in the field of vision. The three stepped on dead leaves, ferns and sticky mushrooms, and the time seemed to go back a few days. I don't know if it was because Anxuan's route was extraordinarily correct, and they were no longer harassed by any dangerous demons along the way.

A few hours later, Ann, who was walking in front, suddenly stopped. It was about noon, and the too bright sunlight shone white on the wall-like stone wall in front of them. Looking up from here, you can see the small cliff above. Countless wide gaps are erected at the bottom of it. It cannot be called a cave, and it can barely accommodate a few people.

Ann probed inward with the hunting spear, the purple-white electric light reflected the wet stone wall a little dazzling, although they found no living thing from the crevice, there was still a strand of burnt hair The smell came out of it.

"The stronghold." Ann announced happily, as if she had completely forgotten the unpleasantness just now. It's a pity that her teammates were still immersed in the shock, and no one responded to her. The female warrior raised her eyebrows at the embarrassing silence, without making any comment, and began to paint simple spells on the ground at the entrance of the cave on her own.

The grey parrot got out of the backpack and was standing on Nemo's shoulders combing his feathers. Oliver leaned against the stone wall, with his hands on the scabbard, and stared thoughtfully at Nemo's face, who was furious at him.

"Do you have something to say to me?" Nemo finally couldn't bear it anymore, because he was not feeling well, this time Oliver almost said "God, I have something to say, I'm suffocating to death. "Engraved on the face.

"How much do you remember before we met?" After a moment of hesitation, Oliver finally asked, with a very serious tone.

"What?" Nemo looked back in confusion. "You have to ask a specific question—"

"First encounter."

Nemo frowned, not a pleasant subject. He found no hostility or disgust from Oliver's questioning, but the vague doubt made him a little flustered. "I don't remember, not many people remember what happened before the age of five or six."

"You grew up here, didn't you?"

Ann paused and glanced at Nemo.

"I really don't remember, okay?" Nemo scratched the back of his head irritably, and the short ponytail at the back of his head almost fell apart. "I just remember hearing someone talking, there were stars in the sky, and I ran over to the voice and saw you—and I don't remember at all. What are you trying to say? Do you think I shouldn't be afraid of this place, or do you think 'children' It's impossible to survive in the frontier forest'?" At the end, his tone was inexplicably aggressive.

"...sorry, that's not what I meant. You don't seem to know anything about this, I just can't figure it out."

Oliver knew very well that this was not what he wanted to ask. After working in the hotel for so many years, he has seen too many people - monsters in human skins, and people who look like monsters. Oliver prides himself on being a bit of a person. He vaguely sensed the source of that incongruity—

People's real fear always comes from instinct, which cannot be guided or destroyed. A mouse who has never seen a cat also knows to run wild when encountering each other. Fears are not taught, all people can learn is how to deal with them, understand them, or ignore them.

But Nemo is different.

Oliver doesn't think Nemo himself noticed this. He flees because everyone will flee, and he fears because everyone should be afraid. That incongruity is like a seasoned actor on stage—feeling real and contagious, but destined to be missing something crucial.

Even when he faced death. The person seems to enjoy giving up, but what if that's not actually "giving up"?

But he couldn't ask a question that he didn't even know the answer to.

Oliver used to have many friends, both pleasant and unpleasant. Having dealt with people for a long time, he knew that it is impossible for a person to agree with all the thoughts of his friends - so he once thought that he could naturally ignore those negative factors and become good friends with Nemo, even comrades in arms. They were able to negotiate future plans together and supported each other through this dark time. Even if they part ways in the future because of some things, they will occasionally exchange letters or get together - according to Nemo's character, they should have developed this kind of relationship easily.

But every time he tried to do it, that eccentric, self-loathing vigilance always popped up like a cold hand around him heart. He didn't like the feeling, very much.

Oliver doesn't think that this kind of warning subconscious is just out for a walk - if they're still in town, then it's just a matter of maintaining a nodding acquaintance. Now that he has lived precariously, there are as many things that can kill him. If you let it go and let yourself be affected by this subtle fear all the time, it will only get worse.

He looked at the other party's silver-gray eyes seriously. Nemo didn't look at him, he stared at the corners of his clothes, as if he was interested in the stitches on the corners of his clothes.

Oliver suddenly felt odd - perhaps Nemo Wright wasn't ignorant of his "dissonance".

Oliver has never considered himself to be a very courageous person. He considers his courage to be barely above average. But at this moment, he couldn't help reaching out his hand, ignoring the increasingly obvious colic in his stomach due to the sense of crisis - and finally succeeded in grabbing the other's hand.

Nimo hates being asked about his past.

He really only remembers the touch of his skin on the sand and the stars in the darkness, and maybe the faint singing. There is at least a dozen species in the frontier forest that can make people forget themselves into a dementia, and forgetting itself is not surprising, but the fact is there - a small child survived the frontier forest.

But old Patrick Wright didn't care, and he happily adopted the child. Every year, poor people or prostitutes throw unsupportable babies into the frontier forest, and it is not absolutely impossible for one to survive once in a while - "This little guy is really lucky." The old man claimed and believed so strongly.

He named the child who knew nothing and taught him carefully.

"Fire." He pointed to the dancing flame on the candle, "Don't touch it, it will hurt."

Nemo, who was still young, stared at the fire with a vague understanding. It just so happened that the kid on the other side overturned the soup bowl and the old man got up to get the rag and candy - Nemo took the opportunity to stick his finger into the flames.

It's warm, he thought.

The girl next to her saw it and learned to stick her fingers in - then she burst into tears, and Nemo was startled and quickly pulled her hand back.

The blisters on the girl's fingers did not go away for several days.

So Nemo couldn't help but try it again when no one was watching - this time he felt the pain of being burned by the flames, and the same blisters on his fingers for a few days. After that, he learned to be good, and tried to stay away from all the dangers that the old man said - he didn't even have to test it himself, and every day other children demonstrated the tricks and injuries on the spot.

"Dangerous things can't be approached. If you feel scared, you must run away quickly." Old Patrick finished the horror story tonight and concluded to the shivering children.

"What is fear?" Nemo asked, raising his hand in an unpleasant manner.

The old man mysteriously took out a huge dead spider with an exaggerated expression. "Look at this-"

The children screamed louder, and Nemo took the dead spider and subconsciously stuffed it into his mouth.

The old man hurriedly took the spider back. After a while, old Patrick seemed to have found an interesting topic - he changed his tricks to frighten the kid who didn't learn the words well, but this kid who survived from the frontier forest has a good way, he doesn't seem to be born with fear of this. a feeling.

Until a certain day.

Old Patrick took his children to pick berries on the edge of the forest, and unfortunately encountered a mutant spider dog. The thing slipped out of the bushes like a ghost, and poked its sharp front foot at one of the children—the old man didn't hesitate, he turned back and blocked, and the side of his neck was severely slashed.

Blood flowed immediately.

Nimo looked at the flowing blood and found that he seemed to understand for the first time what "fear" was. The old man could die, and he suddenly had the realization that he shouldn't be of his age—and then he realized there was nothing he could do about it.

This fact made his feet weak and his chest jammed badly. He rushed forward to press the wound, trying to stop the steady flow of blood, but to no avail. The other children had already been howling, and he finally couldn't hold back and began to cry. The old man sighed, patted his head, and made a weak face.

Dangerous things should not be approached. Nemo thought, then he should be afraid of those dangerous things.

Sr. Patrick found that Nemo Wright was "normal" since his injury. He began to be afraid of demons, knives, and nights. The ghost stories were scary enough to make people feel very unfulfilled.

Yes, since then he really seems to be indistinguishable from others, but Nemo himself is very clear - his perception has not changed, he needs to know what is dangerous first, Then fear it. He even took a job at the town library for this purpose.

For some reason, he lacks the ability to automatically recognize danger. He has long attributed this to mere dullness. But the flame he felt at first was like a thorn, and he couldn't pull it out of his memory. He managed to wrap his cognition tightly and firmly, but it kept stabbing Nemo when he wasn't paying attention - reminding him that there was such a loophole, reminding him of the possible anomaly behind his lost memory.

But he obviously doesn't care.

Nimo stared at the corner of his clothes, trying to drive the candle out of his mind. Oliver's question lit it up again, it brightened, it had a disgustingly ugly face, and it sounded like a grey parrot.

"You are abnormal," it said.

"I'm very sorry if I upset you," Oliver said, his voice firm, his green eyes twinkling slightly. "I know I've been acting a little weird lately... yes, there's something weird going on with you."

His palms were still sweaty, but they were steady and not shaking.

"Anyway, I'm not really afraid of you." Oliver said word by word.

(m..=)