The old goat emerged from the back room, his apron dusted with flour and faint smudges of grease, as if he'd been mending more than just pastries. His voice carried a rich, familiar warmth, like the crackle of a hearth fire, tinged with the amusement of someone who'd seen too many cycles of youthful ambition and folly.
"Well, well," he said, resting his sturdy hands on his hips, the apron pulling taut against his rounded middle. "What's my little economist theorizing about now? Industrial revolutions? Supply chains? Or maybe you're crafting some new way to win friends and influence people?"
Sableth straightened slightly, shifting her weight to one foot as she slid a neatly taped box into place. She didn't bother looking up, her motions fluid and economical, as though her mind were somewhere else entirely. "Oh, just doing my part," she said with a light, airy tone. "Keeping the gears of society turning, you know. Someone has to. Might as well be me."
He chuckled, his laugh a deep rumble that filled the small bakery. "You've got a work ethic that would put most adults to shame, lass. Makes me wonder—are you just as industrious in your classes? A girl like you, with all your smarts and… well, let's call it 'personality.' Bet you're the toast of the classroom."
That made her pause, a faint flicker of something behind her eyes, but her expression remained pleasant, composed. She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms casually as though the conversation wasn't of particular consequence. "Popular? Oh, I don't know about that," she said with a soft laugh, brushing a stray lock of her fur behind one ear. "I get along with people well enough, I suppose. But I wouldn't say I'm the center of attention or anything. You know how it is—everyone's busy trying to make their own mark."
The goat raised a shaggy eyebrow, intrigued. "Not the center of attention? Now, that I find hard to believe. Surely they see your worth. You're not the kind to blend into the background."
Her smile widened just slightly, a practiced gesture that softened her tone. "Oh, they notice me," she admitted, glancing at him sidelong as though confiding something mildly scandalous. "It's just… not always the kind of attention people think of as positive." She chuckled lightly, a sound that seemed to hang in the air, inviting him to ask more.
His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. "Not positive? What do you mean by that?"
She sighed, turning back to the stack of boxes as though to give herself something to do, her fingers tracing the edges of the cardboard absentmindedly. "Oh, it's nothing, really," she said with a dismissive wave. "Just the usual classroom politics. You know how kids are. Competitive. Trying to one-up each other. Sometimes it gets a bit... intense."
The goat frowned, leaning against the doorframe as he studied her. "That doesn't sound like nothing. What's going on, lass? Surely they aren't giving you trouble."
She glanced back at him, her eyes wide with an almost exaggerated innocence. "Trouble? Oh, no, not at all," she said quickly, her voice light and reassuring. "They're just kids, you know. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but harmless. I think some of them just feel a bit insecure when they see someone excelling. It's normal, really. animal nature, or… well, you know, nature-nature."
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Hmm. Sounds like they're jealous, if you ask me."
Sableth tilted her head, as if considering the idea for the first time. "Jealous? I suppose that's one way to look at it," she said thoughtfully, her voice tinged with just the right amount of self-effacing doubt. "But I try not to think of it like that. It's more… I think they just don't know how to handle someone who's a little different. People always gravitate toward what feels safe and familiar, don't they?"
The goat nodded slowly, his expression softening. "Aye, that's true enough. But you shouldn't have to dim your light just to make them comfortable. If they're not treating you right, that says more about them than it does about you."
Her smile remained, but internally, she rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder he didn't hear it. Of course he'd think that, she thought. Adults always believe in some fairy tale about good kids being misunderstood. They never want to admit that the little darlings they adore are capable of real malice.
She glanced back at the goat, her expression open and kind, the very picture of a hardworking, earnest student. "That's kind of you to say," she replied, her voice soft. "But I think it's just part of growing up, really. Everyone's figuring out who they are, and sometimes that means... clashing a little. I'm sure it's nothing personal."
Inside, she dismissed the sentiment entirely. It's absolutely personal, she thought. Every snide comment, every 'accidental' exclusion from group activities, every whispered remark when they think I can't hear—it's all calculated. Kids aren't innocent. They're clever little monsters, and they know exactly what they're doing. But sure, let's pretend they're just 'figuring things out.'
The goat watched her for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, lass. You're taking it all in stride, but don't let them push you around, you hear? You've got as much right to shine as anyone else."
She nodded, her expression serene. "I appreciate that," she said softly. "Really, I do. But I don't think it's about pushing anyone around. It's more about finding a balance, you know? Figuring out how to navigate the world without stepping on too many toes."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a mighty mature way of looking at it. You're wiser than most your age, I'll give you that."
She offered a modest smile, bowing her head slightly as though embarrassed by the praise. "Well, I've had good examples," she said lightly. "People like you, working hard, staying grounded. It's inspiring."
Oh, please, she thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes again. If you think I believe half the platitudes coming out of your mouth, you're even more gullible than the rest of them. But sure, let's pretend you're my role model for a second. Whatever keeps the conversation flowing.
The goat grinned, his chest puffing slightly at the compliment. "Well, that's good to hear. Maybe you'll rub off on some of your classmates, eh? Show them what hard work and humility look like."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Oh, I don't know about that. I think they've got their own ideas about how the world works. But I try to set a good example where I can."
Internally, she scoffed. Set a good example? As if they'd notice. They're too busy tearing each other down to see anything else. And the worst part is, I'm no different. I'll tear them down too if it means staying ahead. It's just survival, isn't it?
The goat gave her a warm smile, patting the doorframe before heading back toward the kitchen. "Well, keep at it, lass. You're doing good work here. Don't let the little things get to you."
She watched him go, her smile lingering until he was out of sight. Then it faded, replaced by a faint smirk as she turned back to her boxes. "Don't let the little things get to me," she murmured under her breath. "If only the little things were the problem."
Her motions resumed, efficient and mechanical, her mind already shifting gears. She wasn't lying when she said she worked hard. But it wasn't about setting an example or earning anyone's approval. It was about staying ahead. Staying sharp. Staying one step ahead of the little monsters who'd drag her down in a heartbeat if she gave them the chance. And if that made her a monster too? So be it; it was times like this; she was almost thankful; she was a monster. because if she wasn't, then she would be just like them. worse than monsters.