2/17/2026, 5:31 AM
There was only so much good staying in one place would do for her. In fact, in the beginning, that was all Ethel had done. She figured she sat within those plains for hours, staring and cursing at the sky until her already gravelly voice grew hoarse and her throat raw. And if there was anything to make an old, grouchy woman leave, it was for the simple fact that she had run out of curse words to spew at whoever might have been listening.
How, however, had she found herself in front of a rowdy inn—one in which sounds of laughter, of song, and where the sweet smell of fermented fruit sat on the wind—she did not know. She could remember briefly walking through some trees…but the rest no longer mattered, now did it?
Instead, she pushed herself (on limbs that cried in protest for the miles she had walked) through the doorway with an ‘oof’ and a grunt before blinking at the very unique crowd that seemed to converge together. An odd assortment of faces, she noted with a quiet calculation, her mouth pursed into a thin line.
But it was the scent of fermented berries—alcoholic, she knew from her younger, more devious ages—that dissuaded her judgment and set her intentions on something much more fun than criticism.
And while being reincarnated in a dog’s body was certainly not her first choice, Ethel would be grateful for the way her nose could guide her instantaneously to where that sweet-smelling fruit existed.
She made her way toward the table, and when her eyes (blurred and half-narrowed) landed on something brown and red, kinda like her dead cat, she pursed her lips and spoke.
There was only one way Ethel would enjoy herself surrounded by such... eccentric-looking faces. It would be the berries and their liquid satisfaction they'd gift her. Besides, the ache in her bones would certainly disappear within an inebriated state, and she had always loved a good party.
How, however, had she found herself in front of a rowdy inn—one in which sounds of laughter, of song, and where the sweet smell of fermented fruit sat on the wind—she did not know. She could remember briefly walking through some trees…but the rest no longer mattered, now did it?
Instead, she pushed herself (on limbs that cried in protest for the miles she had walked) through the doorway with an ‘oof’ and a grunt before blinking at the very unique crowd that seemed to converge together. An odd assortment of faces, she noted with a quiet calculation, her mouth pursed into a thin line.
But it was the scent of fermented berries—alcoholic, she knew from her younger, more devious ages—that dissuaded her judgment and set her intentions on something much more fun than criticism.
And while being reincarnated in a dog’s body was certainly not her first choice, Ethel would be grateful for the way her nose could guide her instantaneously to where that sweet-smelling fruit existed.
She made her way toward the table, and when her eyes (blurred and half-narrowed) landed on something brown and red, kinda like her dead cat, she pursed her lips and spoke.
Haben Sie Beeren?She phrased it as a question, but Ethel knew the furry thing in front of her had them. She just could not see them.
Zeig mir die Beeren.
There was only one way Ethel would enjoy herself surrounded by such... eccentric-looking faces. It would be the berries and their liquid satisfaction they'd gift her. Besides, the ache in her bones would certainly disappear within an inebriated state, and she had always loved a good party.