26 - Chicory

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Chicory stood in front of River, restraining - with effort - some type of strange zombie. It kept trying to bite her, as zombies did, but Chicory deftly avoided its strikes with unamused glares. River was entirely too impassive, just watching the creature with a calculating expression.

They'd come across it over an hour ago in the middle of the night, and every time they tried to move on after trapping it somewhere, it somehow got out.

It also liked attacking River more than Chicory, even though it could clearly smell that he was a zombie. It completely ignored it when River growled at it, and the thing had the gall to growl back.

River seemed kind of offended about that, "It's clearly weaker than me, why is it so determined to fight me on it?"

Chicory shrugged, pushing back its head as it attempted once more to bite her. "Well, maybe the thing has brain damage. That would mess with its judgment, right?"

River frowned, leaning closer to the thing, "have you seen any regular zombies around for the last bit?"

Chicory caught a strike that it threw, "I haven't been paying much attention to that, but I guess it's been kind of quiet. Why?"

River brightened slightly, "let it go, I'm curious."

Chicory gave him a strange look but obliged, backing away a step as it eagerly jumped at River. It was almost completely ignoring her, so strange for a zombie. River dodged a few strikes, an odd expression rising on his face. He slowed down slightly, allowing the creature to graze him with a swipe.

At the swipe, even though it didn't break the skin, River flinched, backing up several steps and ascending into a tree.

Thankfully, the strange zombie didn't seem to have a concept of 'up.'

"Its touch felt like fire." He helpfully explained, screwing up his face as he climbed upward a few branches, looking at the creature with curiosity.

"Do you think there's more of these things? Maybe it's a third strain of the virus? Or a mutation?"

"Well it's definitely confusing my instincts, that's for sure." he glared at the creature, who was still pitifully trying to reach him.

Chicory fell silent for a moment, "do you think we should kill it?"

River shook his head immediately, "No. That's stupid."

Chicory relaxed slightly, killing zombies had never quite...sit right with her. She frowned at River though, who didn't seem to care about that type of thing, "why is it stupid?"

"Because if this is the only zombie like this then I'm sure we'd want to know more about it. And even if it's not the only one, there's always the slim chance that we can bring people like this back, and I don't really want to be labeled a serial killer."

That was startlingly pragmatic, and a lot less heartless than Chicory had come to expect from the strange nightstalker.

They left the strange zombie behind, going ever southward.

---

Chicory stood in front of a caravan leader, trying to explain that no, they did not need a ride. And yes, they needed information. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Chicory didn't speak Spanish, and the caravan leader only knew three words in English.

She kept trying though, communicating with ever more volume as both River and the rest of the caravan watched the display with bemused expressions. Traitors, the lot of them.

They were able to get most of the points across just by both speaking Latin-based languages, but as they parted ways, Chicory was left not quite knowing any of the things that had fallen between the lines of translation. For all Chicory knew, she'd somehow managed to tell the guy something completely unrelated.

She retreated strategically toward River after their...mostly failed battle of languages. "Do you happen to speak Spanish?"

River simply smirked, "I know a few phrases, but it's been thirteen years since I've used any of them. Only a true weirdo would remember after all that time."

Chicory scowled, "Then why was I the one talking?"

"Because the only other language I know is Mandarin and I was liable to just start speaking that to fill in the gaps out of sheer panic. Which would be much more confusing for all of us."

Chicory gave him an odd look, trying to figure out how in the world he would know Mandarin of all languages. But she didn't ask. Instead, Chicory smiled pleasantly at the woman who was approaching them from the caravan.

"You are...English?"

Chicory nodded, "Yes!"

The woman relaxed slightly, but she certainly seemed like a jumpy person. She kept looking around with wide eyes, glancing at River, who wasn't even attempting to be pleasant. "Oh! Ah, yes. English. Um...forgive me, mine is...uh...not practiced." Her accent was thick and she spoke a bit quickly, but it was understandable.

Chicory nodded again, speaking slowly, "That's fine, as long as you understand what I'm talking about, we're all fine."

The woman smiled uneasily, glancing at River again, "Ah, yes. What...what did you want?"

"Information," Chicory said, taking out her map and pointing at the spot they hesitantly wanted to put their base. "Is there anything in this area?"

The woman blinked at the map, leaning closer to peer at the circled spot. She examined the map intently for a long moment. And then shook her head violently, her eyes going wide, "No no, no, not there... ¡No vayas ahí! no no no, esa es una idea terrible..." Flustered, the woman began mumbling in unintelligible Spanish.

Chicory blinked at her, lowering the map, "what's in that area?"

"It's ah," she glanced at River again, "that is...there is... la casa de los Piros. I don't know the English word. Many, Piros, dangerous...people but not people. They are of fire. They burn the safe places."

River tilted his head and the woman flinched. Sparking jumpy that one. "Like bandits?"

The woman screwed her face up in thought, "Ah no no, not people."

"Like zombies then?" Chicory asked, "Dangerous zombies?"

She nodded, pointing at the map, "Yes, there are many of the...dangerous zombies there. No vayas."

Chicory looked thoughtfully at the map for a long moment, "how dangerous?" 

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Vote to encourage them to go check out those Pyros!!!

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