Archive of Our Own ^beta

At first, Gwin didn't know what to make of this new world. The lights scared him, they were so very bright and made his eyes burn. He was used to the world being pitchblack once the sun had gone down, only lit by the occasional torches and the fire that was invited by the Motley Folk whenever they performed at night. Now it didn’t matter if the sun had set; wherever there were people, there was light, white and cold with none of the friendly warmth fire could offer.

He was unique in this world, too. Horned martens weren’t rare at home but here he was the only one; there were martens, alright, but not a single one had horns. Interestingly enough, there were no creatures that ate martens either - besides foxes, that one, but he had always been smarter than them and prided himself on it. There was no wonder or magic in this world either as he had been used to it, the only thing that had followed them into this strange place that he was familiar with were the two vile creatures Dustfinger called Basta and Capricorn, men on whose heels death clung to like a leech sucking itself fat on their blood.

Gwin had leeches once, after he had bathed in a pond for the fun of it. Dustfinger had been so kind to pluck them off his skin before anything bad would happen.

Within the first days, he almost got hit by one of the silver carriages where the humans sat, the ones without horses and that roared louder than the beasts that roamed the forest of Argenta. Had there been horses, maybe they would have reared up at the sight of Gwin, back home he would hiss at them, hey, you stupid giants, I am also here! Don’t trample me to death with your hooves! And the horses saw his tiny teeth and even though they were so big, they were always scared. But here the people listened to music from strange boxes as they sat in their carriages, fast as lightning. Sometimes Dustfinger and he would get into one together with other humans and he would look outside to see them move on the large stone paths where other carriages bolted past them. They reeked horribly as well, like he would think evil fire smelled like because it was a smell unlike any other he had ever had in his nose - and Gwin had a very good nose. He would always crawl into Dustfinger’s rucksack or underneath his clothes, to inhale a scent either harmless or familiar to him.

At least Dustfinger was there. He got scratches behind his ears, bits of cheese and sausage, and was petted whenever he was sad because Dustfinger always knew whenever Gwin was in need of a kindness. Something about him was very attractive to other humans, not just small children like back home but so many people who watched Dustfinger perform whenever they were in a larger city. Even when Dustfinger warned them that he liked to bite, they still watched him with curiosity and tried, very carefully, to touch his head or pet his fur. Gwin didn't always like being touched by strange hands even if most of them were soft and warm, but he rarely bit anymore.

At least not if they pulled away when he hissed a warning at them. If they still poked him with their fleshy fingers, he couldn't really be blamed for nibbling on them. And yes, his teeth were like little needles but Dustfinger always apologies for it and afterwards was never mad at Gwin!

Back home, the humans were amused at Dustfinger's love for Gwin but it was scarcely an oddity. Here instead, the people seemed surprised at the friendship between a marten and a man - just like back home, the other horned martens had found it bizarre. The martens here, the hornless ones, weren't exactly talkative but he had never seen another marten being friends with a human either, so he assumed it was more or less the same then.

Some things never changed, apparently. Neither did his friend, to both their luck.