Living Hunger

Frederique sat at the corner of the booth, her thoughts swirling as she took in the dimly lit bar. Despite the strange environment, Arno's presence was oddly grounding. Groff stood nearby, his stony silence making him seem more like a statue than a person.

"Alright," Frederique said, her voice cutting through the murmur of the bar. "You said I needed to understand this world. Start explaining."

Arno leaned back in his seat, an easy grin on his face, though his dark eyes held a hint of weariness.

"Fair enough. Lesson one: Changelings aren't one-size-fits-all. There are... types of us. Each one tied to a kind of Fey, with its own quirks, strengths, and... "

"Weaknesses," Groff interrupted, his voice like distant thunder.

Arno nodded. "Exactly. Weaknesses."

Frederique leaned forward, curiosity finally overriding her unease. "And you? What kind are you?"

A shadow of amusement flickered across Arno's face. "Me? I'm Sluagh. We're the watchers, the ones who live in the shadows. Gloomy, creepy, quiet. We see things others don't, hear things others shouldn't. Spying's kind of our thing."

Frederique raised an eyebrow. "Spying?"

Arno smirked. "Information is power, Freddy. The more you know, the safer you are."

He paused, his smile fading slightly. "My mentor's Sluagh too. She's the one who taught me the ropes. Lives in the sewer. Absolute genius... and completely disgusting."

Frederique blinked. "Disgusting how?"

"Think of the worst smell you can imagine,"

Arno said, his grin returning. "Now multiply that by ten. She's... unique."

Groff shifted slightly, drawing Frederique's attention.

"And him?" she asked, nodding toward the massive figure.

Arno chuckled. "Groff's a Troll. Big, strong, tough as stone. Trolls are gentle giants by nature, but they're not exactly quick thinkers. Not stupid," he added quickly, glancing at Groff, "just... slow to act."

Groff didn't react to the comment, his calm demeanor unshaken.

"They're protectors," Arno continued.

"Guardians. If you've got a Troll on your side, you're in good hands."

Frederique studied Groff for a moment before turning back to Arno. "What about the perfect ones?"

Arno's expression soured. "Sidhe. They're... complicated. Beautiful, powerful, charismatic. Both Courts have their royalty, and guess what? They're Sidhe. The King of the Night Court, the Queen of the Day Court... they're the shining stars of this world."

"Sounds like they're important," Frederique said cautiously.

"They are," Arno admitted. "But perfection comes with its own problems. Sidhe tend to see the rest of us as tools. Useful, maybe even valuable... but not equal."

Frederique frowned, filing that information away.

"And the others? There's more, right?"

Arno nodded. "Plenty more. Let's see... Pooka are shapeshifters, mischievous little pranksters who can take on animal forms. They're playful, childish, and love causing trouble."

"Like kids?"

"Like kids with magic," Arno said. "Then you've got Satyrs... half-human, half-goat. They're all about music, dancing, and... well, other pleasures."

Frederique's cheeks reddened slightly, but she said nothing.

"Nockers are the crafters," Arno continued. "If it's broken, they'll fix it. If it doesn't exist yet, they'll build it. But don't expect them to be polite about it. Nockers are blunt, short-tempered, and convinced they're smarter than everyone else... which, to be fair, they usually are."

"And?"

Arno's grin widened. "There is the Eshu. Travelers. Storytellers. They're like bards, wandering the world, gathering myths and spreading legends. Eshu can talk their way out of anything... or into it."

Frederique tilted her head, intrigued. "They sound... interesting."

"They are," Arno agreed. "But don't let the charm fool you. Eshu are always moving for a reason. They know too much to stay in one place for long."

He paused, his expression darkening.

"And then there are the Redcaps."

Frederique froze. The word struck a chord, though she couldn't say why.

"Redcaps," Arno said slowly, "are... a special case. They're rare, and for good reason. Always hungry. Always. They'll eat anything... wood, metal, flesh, doesn't matter. Their teeth are indestructible, and their appetite is endless."

Frederique's stomach churned.

"They sound dangerous," she said quietly.

"They are," Arno replied. "And not just to others. Redcaps don't live long. They're reckless, aggressive, always looking for the next thing to sink their teeth into. Most of them die young, and the ones who don't... well, let's just say they don't make a lot of friends."

Frederique swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy cloak.

"Frideria," she whispered.

Arno's gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unreadable. "What?"

"That's what she is, isn't it?" Frederique said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The thing inside me. She's a Redcap."

Arno didn't answer immediately. His silence was answer enough.

"She's..." Frederique trailed off, the word sticking in her throat.

"Hungry," Arno finished for her. "Always hungry."

The air between them grew heavy, the faint hum of the bar fading into the background.

"But you're still here," Arno said, his tone soft but firm. "That means you're fighting. That means you've got a chance."

Frederique nodded slowly, her mind racing. The hunger was still there, a gnawing void in her chest, but for the first time, she felt something else alongside it... a spark of determination.

"Are there more?" she asked, forcing her voice to steady.

Arno's expression softened. "More types? Yeah. Plenty. But you don't need to worry about all of them right now. Focus on what's in front of you."

Frederique leaned back, her thoughts spinning as she processed everything she'd learned. The world she'd stumbled into was vast, dangerous, and impossibly complicated.

And she was right in the middle of it.