Villages are difficult to come by during these times. In the age where creatures corrupted by the void run rampant, most would usually find comfort and rest behind tall walls of steel. Though, there are some who still upheld their old ways. Tribesfolk, the city people call them. The only way of living, they would reply.
Life will find ways to prosper even when the abyss itself tries to corrupt the living. Flowers can bloom even on the steepest of cliffs, in the ruination of civilization or inside the heart of a dead beast. All it needs is sunlight and water to nurture it.
Beautiful that they are, the little lizard daughter had plucked a nice golden one from a patch that grew along the way and tucked it in the doll's messy hair. Five golden petals, basking under the sunlight.
"There! You look much better!" Said the lizard girl. "Daylilies are blooming this season. I bet the florist has got a lot of pretty ones!"
The doll did not understand a single word left from her mouth, opting to stay motionless in the hands of the father who was still eyeing her from the corner of his eye. Through his daughter's cheerful laughter and struggle to carry the bag strapped to her, the huntsman was deep in thought.
The attire that the puppet wears is worn out but what was interesting is that there were molds growing around parts of her clothing, mud stains around the torn edges and some moist parts around the inside of her head. Even a spider crawled out when he peered inside.
This would suggest the doll was at some point thrown underwater or somewhere near one, left to rot before a Tekhanure had entered its body. But that doesn't explain why the lower body is missing. Perhaps that was the reason why the doll was thrown away in the first place. Who would go through the hassle of fixing half of what is left?
Still, they trek through. They pass by a small stream of water, separating from a nearby river. They pass by wandering forest critters, running away at the first sight of the hunter and his daughter. They pass by chatting and tweeting birds, wondering who or what was in the lizard man's hand.
"Ah, we're close now! You see that, Celein? We're almost at the village!" The young lizard shouted. Her father had quirked a brow.
"Celein?" He asked.
The girl nodded. "Yeah! Dolls are typically made from porcelain right? Hence, Celein."
Then, the child leaned over to the named puppet, as if to get some validation from her.
"Right, Celein?"
No reaction still. Slight disappointment as the young lizard slumps.
"Hm…"
"Why not just call it 'Celine' as opposed to 'Suh-luhn'? Ain't it a bit weird?" Her father commented.
"Mom told me to not be a carbon cutout of the other kids so I'm not gonna give her some dumb normal name!" She leans over to the anxious doll again. "Celein!"
If there was anything, only the winds caught her profound naming technique. The marionette still refused to move. The daughter hummed again, a little frown on her little reptile face. It was like training a cat to react to its name yet it ignores its owner. Except this was a doll, and dolls aren't typically made as pets.
And so they trekked.
Walls made from hardened steel appeared through the branches and twigs, tungsten plating taller than most of the trees in the forest. Though some people might find it restricting due to this iron cage that surrounds their home, most were willing to lock themselves away within a safe plot of land if they didn't have to risk having monsters devouring and smashing their loved ones.
Still, the city manages its influence even this far in the wild.
The huntsman and his daughter step out from the forest and into the clearing that the village was built upon. A meadow that was rather similar to the grazers'. The wind still danced through the blades of grass and leaves all of the same.
The little girl runs off ahead along the clear path that leads to the front gate of this village.
"Heeeyyyy!!" She shouted. "Old man Chid! Open up!"
A voice no less fitting of that title shouts from the other side. "How many times do I have to tell you to say the password first!?"
"Geezer, this is the front gate. You know that it's me. Just open up already!"
At the sight, the huntsman sighs. At the sounds of the gate unlocking and heaving, the doll still remained still. At the other side of the gate, a fumbling and grumbling old lizard man. His scales had grown grey through the years, a scar over his hand that clutched a mechanised lance.
He raises it—before hitting the girl with the foot-end of the spear.
"OW!"
"Respect your elders."
"That huuurrrttttt!!--" She whined before the gatekeeper raised his weapon again. The girl yelps.
"Respect. Your. Elders."
"Okay, okay."
The little lizard rubbed her head as she grumbled aside. The gatekeeper, shaking his head, finally took notice of the father who had been holding the tattered little doll. To that, another sharp groan.
"You're bringing in rubbish now?" He commented.
"It's a Tekhanure." The huntsman replied.
"Her name's Celein, you old fart!"
"What did I tell you?!"
"WAAAAAAA-- RUN AWAYYY!!"
Skittering across the grass with the heavy bag of meat in her hands, Lishah was off acres away from the old lizard man who didn't even bother to give chase. Her father sighed again, rubbing his temples.
"Sorry about that, Chid." He said. "Lishah's been a bit too excited after we found this Tekhanure."
The huntsman lifted his arm. The flower in the doll's hair almost fell when she came face to face with the old gatekeeper. Chid scratched his chin, his teeth grinding against each other like the cogwheels turning in his head.
In the puppet's mind, however, was just a whirlwind of thoughts. What are those walls? Why are these walls here? Do these people hunt those grazers too? Who are you? Why were you screaming? Are you going to hurt me too? Please, please let me go..!
"And what do you plan to do with it?" The gatekeeper finally asked.
He lowers his arm. "I'm not sure yet. I'm planning on sending it to the chief first. If he decides to throw it out, then we throw it out."
"Right then, I'll let you be on your way."
The grey-scaled Chid steps aside with an assuring nod though his yellow eyes were still glued to the doll. He had his questions but he knew not to ask them. The old lizard was too used to being left in the dark.
"May Riviera watch you." The huntsman, still holding the doll by the collar, bid.
"Ah… right. For its blessing stretches upon the horizon."
And off the huntsman went, on the dirt road that led to the nearby village. When the gatekeeper finally averted his eye from the huntsman's ever-shrinking figure, he saw that the flower tucked in the puppet's head had fallen off. Five golden petals, wilting under the overseeing sun.
"What a pity…" The gatekeeper said. "It's always the prettiest ones that get plucked out, isn't it?"