4.
The Hedgefolk were the friendliest people that Perris ever had the pleasure of knowing – at least, as far as The Thread was concerned. They were also some of the only people that Perris had met in his 58 years on Layer 30, apart from the occasional Adventurer and the migrants who chose to relocate to Layer 30 after completing their VIQs.
Most of the.m were fine people, too – it was always interesting to talk with a new Adventurer, which is how Perris met Ainsley in the first place – but the migrants didn't speak a whole lot, especially if you asked them about their time walking The Thread.
In an effort to keep the mystery and purpose of The Thread alive, asking a migrant about their "Threadventure," as some called it, was grounds for immediate severance for both the ex-Adventurer and the Adventurer who asked. It wasn't easy getting down The Thread, so the last thing a migrant wanted was to have their reward ripped away from them.
But the Hedgefolk – now these were Perris' type of people. At their essence, they were enlarged, bipedal hedgehogs. They had all the features of a regular hedgehog – the beady eyes, the spiny backs, the dark paws and spindly noses lined by wiry whiskers – only they also had a sense of fashion that involved a lot of bonnets and aprons and overalls and straw hats.
They were a traditional sort of folk, set in their ways and happy about it, always at ease because, well, there was nothing to worry about on Layer 30. If there were predators, Perris had never seen them. If there was disease or plague or a curse on the land, it had never made itself known. In his 58 years on Layer 30, he'd never been harassed, or fought with, or had so much as an unfriendly disagreement with a Hedgeman or woman. The closest he ever came to a fight with a Hedgeman was a time that he suggested the man's wife had put too little sugar in her cake, and that was simply settled with a game of cards, a pot of tea and an agreement to disagree.
In fact, Perris had only been in one true fight during his time on Layer 30, and it was so long ago that it almost seemed pointless to think about. Maybe he just didn't like thinking about it.
What Perris admired the most about the Hedge folk was how, in his estimation, they'd managed to all but drive sadness out of Layer 30. In Perris' mind, sadness was perhaps the most dangerous disease of them all (of at least, somewhere up there). He wasn't sure where he got that belief from, but it probably had to do with his Offthread self. In all his years on the Layer, Perris had never seen a Hedgefolk's aura that read anything but:
Wellbeing: Bright Green | Soul: Thin Blue | Emotional: Bright Green
Truly, their way of life was something to aspire to. Perris should know.
As always, Perris and Ainsley Moose were welcomed to the village with open arms. Immediately upon walking through the town's big, leaf-covered gate, Mrs. Pots, a jolly middle-aged gal wearing a garden of petunias between her quills like some girls wear flowers behind their ears, pulled them both in for the warmest hugs on all of Layer 30. It was fine, for the most part – her quills were at ease and the boys knew how to maneuver between them at this point – but if you weren't careful with your hands, you might just get an unwelcome surprise.
In seconds, about a dozen other Hedgefolk had the boys surrounded, all smiling with their noses aimed proudly to the sky. Some had dirt on their clothes and their faces from toiling in the garden all day, a hobby more than a job, as there was no real economy on Layer 30. When a Hedgefolk needed something, they were simply gifted it by another kind Hedgefolk. What was the use for money if nobody needed to buy anything? Happiness was the currency of the Hedgefolk, and in happiness, they were rich.
That very fact was why Perris dreaded sharing the news of their departure from the Layer. He hated making people sad; he knew the feeling all-too-well, and he'd grown to be quite good friends with the Hedgefolk over the last 58 years. He'd briefly considered leaving without a single word, but the thought of Perris Farms going unloved, of the crops rotting and the giraffes and chickens and what-have-you dying and leaving a blight on the landscape, that gave him unimaginable dread. He had to do something about the farm, and the best he could think of was to give it away.
So, like always, Perris forced himself to man-up – just a little bit – and face the music.
"Oh look, they've brought us some fresh vegetables," Mrs. Pots said, pulling away from a hug with young Ainsley Moose. "Always so generous, boys." She reached up to pinch Ainsley's cheek. She always had a particular fondness for Ainsley, the kind a grandmother has for her grandson.
"Of course, Mrs. Pots, we would never come empty handed." Perris and Ainsley slung the bundles of veg from their backs, handing one to Mrs. Pots and one to her husband, Ched.
There was no government in Greenhedge, but Mr. and Mrs. Pots acted as the un-elected leaders. They were the first folk that anyone came to with problems, not that there were a whole lot of problems to begin with beyond finding ways to deal with pesky crop bugs and fixing the occasional hole in the 12-foot hedge wall that surrounded the village.
"Unfortunately, we do also come with some less-than-good news," Ainsley said to the crowd of Hedgefolk. They cocked their heads, as Hedgefolk tend to do when curious. "Tell 'em, Perris."
Perris sighed and took his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as if mourning a great loss. "This will be our last day on Layer 30," he said. A collective gasp rang out from the crowd.
"Well, why's that, lads?" asked Ched, his stubby little fists stuck to his hips, ears tucked back. Perris read his aura:
Wellbeing: Bright Green | Soul: Thin Blue | Emotional: Cloudy Green
"The Surveyors are making us continue down The Thread. We've been here a little bit longer than we should have been, I suppose."
"Oh, certainly it hasn't been that long," Mrs. Pots exclaimed.
"58 years, actually," Perris said. "I guess that's about 58 years too long, according to The MOTT." The crowd soaked in the silence for a few seconds, some of the Hedgefolk whispering amongst themselves, all their ears flat like sad dogs.
"Down The Thread, eh?" Ched said. "Well, we'll miss you dearly, boys, but an Adventurer's gotta do what an Adventurer's gotta do, eh?" He wrapped a little arm around his wife, as much as he could wrap an arm around her, and the two beamed up at them in an unexpected show of cheer. The cloudiness of Ched's aura re-solidified. Nothing got him down for too long.
But of course they were happy for the two stunted Adventurers! It was foolish of Perris to ever think they would take the news with anything but a smile and a well wish. Still, some selfish part of him, that part he always worked so hard to push down, really had hoped to see the Hedgefolk shed some tears, or hear some pleas of "Please stay!" He never liked making people sad, but maybe just this once it would have been okay. Failing to get that reaction, it almost made him feel like they only liked him for his produce
But that's a selfish and dumb thought, he scolded his internal monologue. Don't be such a baby, Perris.
"How about we do a little celebratin' in honor of your departure, eh?" A gruff voice broke in from the crowd. It was Dooley, the town's only bartender and a pretty wicked chef. The man knew his way around a vegetable, especially when it came to getting drunk off one. He'd shown both Ainsley Moose and Perris a thing or two about cooking over the years – he'd likely shown Perris everything he knew about cooking, seeing as he didn't come to The Thread with a single Offthread memory of the practice.
The crowd of Hedgefolk cheered, bringing big smiles to the Adventurers' faces, as they all wandered down the flower-lined road towards the bar. It was a drinking night, and they couldn't be happier about it.