"Many thanks for the grub, Mister Roscoe!"
The man smiled brightly as he took back his large wooden plate, as well as the towel Mikhail had just used to clean up his face and hands.
"Hey, don't mention it! And have a good night!"
Mikhail nodded with a smile, before beginning to walk away.
His stomach was stuffed, and he felt more than satisfied with his meal.
"Mickey!" Spencer called out.
"Hm?"
Mikhail turned around, only to see a small green fruit fly into his basket.
"Enjoy your first Kennepa, buddy!"
"Oh, uh… Thanks, man?"
He looked into the basket, eyeing the fruit in confusion. Didn't he have one of those already? It should be the same type of fruit from the bucket hanging from the canopy of his stall… Yet when he looked inside, he only found the one he was just given.
'Weird… Did someone yoink it from right under my nose?'
He put that thought aside after shaking his head with a tinge of bemusement.
"Have a good night!" Spencer called out, as he resumed packing up his goods.
"You too, Spencer!"
Mikhail waved with his free hand, and then continued to walk away.
All the stalls were packing up for the night, and the crowd of humans began dispersing. The upbeat music was pittering out, with the musicians transitioning into a smooth, relaxing melody to mark the end of the Weekly Gathering.
Mikhail walked through the dispersing crowd, getting wide eyed stares from the people who had failed to notice him before. Despite what he would've expected from himself, Mikhail didn't feel much of anything from all the attention he was getting.
So, he simply returned the wide eyed stares with a friendly smile and a wave…
And after a short while of walking, Mikhail returned to the area the orcs were at, finding that most of them were also departing, save for his pals and Yagnar.
"Welcome back, runt. How're you feeling?"
"I feel fine now, thankfully."
Yagnar smiled when he heard that, but he couldn't help but notice Mikhail's deadpan expression. He seemed… Drained.
"You're looking pretty tired there. Maybe you ought to skip any after-party and get some rest."
"Yeah, probably…"
Mikhail looked over to Mog, Yatur, Yargol, and Glasha, who had stuck around to see him. They had been standing a little ways away from Yagnar, letting the two have their short conversation.
"Homies. This is where we part ways for the night. Should we meet up here again around the afternoon?"
"Sounds like a plan," Glasha said with a smile.
"Word," Yargol said with a nod.
"You bet. You need to share some more information on that crap you said earlier though! Shit came out of nowhere, bro!" Yatur said while shaking his head.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever! We'll see you tomorrow, fool!"
Mog was the first to begin walking away, and soon, everyone else followed.
But, not without stopping to turn and wave a handful of times. And of course, Mikhail made sure to return them, right up until they turned a corner. At that point, he was alone again, for the first time in a long time.
He looked around the clearing.
It was slowly growing desolate. And soon, the slow, peaceful music drew to a close. The ambiance of the community was all that was left. And it was a more mature ambiance. After all, the young children had all but passed out by now, and were being carried by their parents or even their older siblings.
After accidentally overhearing a random pair's plans for the night, Mikhail shook his head and made his way out of the area as well, going to the North Path and then following it until he reached a familiar looking alleyway.
Some of the people eyed him curiously as he turned into it, and quickly understood where he was going when they caught a glimpse of his face. Initially, they were going to bother him, reprimanding him before sending him back home…
But he was already headed to his home. His desolate, empty tent. So they just kept quiet.
Eventually, after passing through many dark alleyways, Mikhail found himself at the edge of the tribe. His wrinkly white box was still standing alone a little ways away from where he stood.
On a whim, he jogged over to it… And then eyed it suspiciously.
He had tied the tent's entrance shut so that the loops had been sitting on a horizontal axis. But, now… They were sitting along a vertical axis. Someone had come to his tent while he wasn't here.
'...Would Grand Elder Maya handle a case of theft? Surely she has people under her command for that kind of stuff.'
He shook his head, starting to get too tired to care about any possible case of theft. It didn't even cross his mind that he might be walking into a diabolical prank as he untied the tent's entrance.
At least, he didn't think about that possibility until he began parting the entrance open.
"What the…"
Mikhail furrowed his brows as he looked inside the previously sparse and empty tent.
Inside of his tent, he had had his personal crate from the orcs — which was filled with clothes, and various raw materials he had earned from the hunts he had taken part in — his backpack, his rations, and his sleeping mat.
But now, there was some more stuff.
Namely, two large clay pots, and a simply designed chest.
The two large pots had writing on them. One was designated with the word [Cleaning] and the other was designated with the word [Drinking]. And upon lifting their wooden lids, he discovered that he now had his own little water supply.
As for the chest…
It was empty.
'I wonder who was nice enough to gift me all this… Couldn't be Spencer, he was still lingering in the clearing when I left…'
He then yawned loudly.
'Man, fuck it. I can figure that out later. I should hit the hay for the time being…"