Page 9 of The Tricksters Deception

Tilting his head, he responds, "Why would I hate you?"

"I'm a human, and you're not," I reply, trying to make sense of his acceptance.

The boy smiles again. "Humans have never been mean to me. And they have never been mean to Pixies." So, the boy is a Pixie? I thought they were smaller and had wings. "Are you not from around here?" His Skivak, a little broken, makes me feel relieved. His interest isn't solely because I'm human.

"No," I begin, ", it's actually a long story."

"Well, I like long stories," he says, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "And I have plenty of time."

After teaching me the basics of building a fire, we settle down next to the warm glow of the flames. I begin to share my story with him, skimming over certain details like the amulet. However, the kid proves to be astute and quickly deduces the nature of the amulet; he'd heard numerous tales about it from the elders in his village.

"That amulet," he says, his eyes widening with recognition. "I've heard stories about it. The elders say it holds immense power, and in the wrong hands, it can be incredibly dangerous." He pauses, looking at me seriously. "If I ever possessed an amulet like that, I would take it to a Wizard. They know how to handle such powerful trinkets."

He enlightens me about Pixies, explaining that they typically start living independently at the age of ten due to their familiarity with forest life and their ability to sustain themselves using nature's provisions. As they age, some Pixies can grow wings, with bravery being a significant factor, though the exact reasons remain unknown. Unlike many creatures, Pixies, along with Elves, frequently collaborate with humans, largely avoiding the conflict initiated by humans against the Daemonaria.

Despite the day's challenges, I find a friend, who is willing to help me locate a Wizard. "A Wizard can guide you and keep that amulet safe," he says with conviction. It turns out that Pixies like him are crucial allies, and his knowledge and willingness to assist are invaluable.

"By the way, why do you find my name amusing?" He asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

I can't help but smile. "In my world, a gecko is a small, friendly lizard. It's just a funny coincidence."

Gecko grins back, still not entirely understanding, but appreciating the light-hearted moment. "Well, I suppose I'm small and friendly too, so maybe it fits."

Chapter five

Gecko and I navigate the forest together for two days. He imparts valuable knowledge about edible fruits and berries, cautioning me about those that could lead to unusual consequences or worse. Every lesson he imparts is either put into practice or diligently documented in the small book Corvu gave me. The realization that so many people deceived me and that my naivety played a role weighs heavily on me. We pause at Gecko's concealed shelter to gather supplies, and for the first time, I feel adequately prepared for the challenges ahead.

Gecko resides on the side of a small hill, where he's fashioned a shelter to shield himself from the elements. Despite his youth, the dwelling is surprisingly spacious, almost imperceptible from the outside. His skills impress me, and I learn that his parents departed from the Northern Thack Hideaway, the Pixie group that usually stays together. Disagreeing with some teachings, they left to ensure Gecko could grow strong and learn survival skills. Despite his young age, he harbors sweet intentions, planning to search for his parents with the belief that a Wizard might help him in this quest. While his agenda isn't solely focused on assisting me, the purity of his heart reassures me.

I reveal my plan to travel to Wanbourne, the city on the map replacing New York, also known as the Capital. Gecko approves of this choice, suggesting it as a suitable location dominated by humans, Elves, and other creatures. With the city's size, as indicated on the map, there's a good chance of finding a Wizard.

Day Five arrives, and Gecko interrupts my thoughts, asking about my parents. As we walk through the forest, the vibrant foliage creating a canopy above us, I confess that I'm an orphan. I elaborate on the family of brothers and sisters who cared for me, teaching me various skills to get by.

"They taught me all sorts of things," I say, my voice tinged with nostalgia. "Like how to perform magic tricks. I used to busk in Central Park, doing sleight of hand and other little illusions to earn some money. It was my way of contributing, you know?"

Gecko's eyes widen with interest. "Magic tricks? Can you show me one?" he asks eagerly.

I smile and pick up a tiny rock from the ground. "Sure thing. Watch closely." With a few deft movements, I make the rock disappear and then reappear in my other hand. Gecko's excitement is palpable, his face lighting up with awe.

"Wow! Are you a witch?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent curiosity.

I laugh softly. "No, I'm not a witch. Just a girl who learned some tricks. But if you want, I can teach you a few." Gecko nods enthusiastically, his determination reminding me of the younger kids at my orphanage. I teach him a basic trick, showing him how to make a small pebble disappear and reappear. His enthusiasm and focus are heartwarming, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride as he masters the trick. "You're really good at this," I tell him, ruffling his hair. "Just like the kids back home." As we continue our journey, the realization hits me that I may never visit the orphanage again. The thought is bittersweet, but I push it aside, focusing on the present moment. Gecko and I continue practicing tricks, laughing and sharing stories.

Suddenly, vibrations beneath us disrupt our routine. Gecko's ears twitch, his eyes narrowing with concentration. His heightened senses pick up something I can't detect.

"Shh," he whispers, grabbing my hand. "We need to be quiet and walk quickly."

My heart pounds in my chest as we move cautiously, trying to avoid making any noise. I have no idea what might be nearby, but the urgency in Gecko's actions tells me it's something we don't want to encounter. The forest around us feels more ominous, the usual rustling of leaves and chirping of birds now filled with potential danger.

We continue walking, each step carefully placed to avoid drawing attention. The suspense is almost unbearable, but I trust Gecko's instincts. His grip on my hand is reassuring, and I know he's doing everything he can to keep us safe.

And then, we make a mistake.

Before me stands the colossal creature – big, the first word that comes to mind. His entire body is adorned with tribal markings, clad in animal skins that strategically cover his form. Bulging black eyes glare down at me, accompanied by teeth resembling tusks and scars hinting at decades spent in the woods. In his hand, a thick tree trunk fashioned into a proportional club, metal chunks embedded for maximum impact. My heart drums in my chest. I stand frozen.

"Run!" Gecko yells as the creature lunges, swinging the club between us. In a typical situation, I'd trip over a shadow and tumble face-first into the dirt, but, surprisingly, I maintain my balance as Gecko tugs my hand, urging me to run. The monster bellows, closing the distance with each colossal step. I feel the ground shake beneath me. A quick side glance reveals it's on our tails, ready to swing the club.

Summoning unexpected bravery, I shove Gecko to the side, landing on top of him and rolling into a slight ditch. The club narrowly misses us. The creature, mouth agape, looms over us. I'm not adept with Daemonaria, but I sense its anger. Is it my fault? Because I'm human? Leave it to the klutz to end up in a world where everyone despises humans.

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