Hello Yeld fans! Each month we'll be releasing a new short story set in the magical land of Yeld. You can read these stories for free, right here on YeldStuff.com! Each of these stories originally appeared on the Yeld Patreon, and you can find more stories and Yeld content there. Becoming a patron supports our game and helps us create more stuff like this!
This month's story about a dog learning new tricks is by author and Yeld's Executive Producer Sally Hsu.
New Tricks
by Sally Hsu
Hubert trotted along through forest. Today, Jackie was head of the pack; she knew their destination and lead them confidently on their way. With no string attaching him to any of the other pack members (today at least) Hubert took the opportunity to sniff out messages other packs had left on the trees, and leave some of his own (something the other members seemed to have no interest in), scampering to catch up with the main pack when Mary or Brian yelled his name. Rushing up to Jackie and Mary, Hubert barked his report. The other packs thought this was a good time, no predators, plenty of food and territory, and he’d replied in agreement. Jackie and Mary stopped the strange mouth noises they were otherwise constantly making and repeated his name several times. They seemed happy with the report and even gave him a scratch behind the ears before saying his name again and pointing behind them toward Brian. Hubert barked his approval and made his way back to Brian.
Something about the mouth noises bothered Hubert, today at least. He kept wanting them to be smells, or maybe he wanted the smells of the forest to be closer to the mouth sounds. Maybe ‘want’ wasn’t correct at all, but Hubert knew something felt wrong. His hackles raised and he started to shake. Then Brian wrapped his arms around him and Hubert forgot everything about the mouth noises the other pack members made. He licked Brian’s oddly flat face in thanks and the two smaller members of the pack pushed to a jog to catch up with the two larger members.
They were approaching The Door, the smell permeated the air, drowning out the usual fresh, earthy smells of the forest. Even recognizing the smell this second time didn’t help just how unsettling Hubert found it. The smell somehow managed to be sweet and bitter, dry and wet, and hot and cold, all at the same time. For the second time this walk Hubert’s hackles raised, and just barely cutting through The Door’s overpowering odor he could make out the familiar sharp, sour, wet smell of fear on his pack mates, especially Brian. He moved closer to Brian; the other two were old enough to handle whatever danger might come, but Brian was still a pup, and Hubert would protect him. Brian stroked his hand along Hubert’s back and they both
relaxed, slightly.
The forest grew quiet, or maybe a quiet emanating from The Door and drown out the typical birdsong and scampering of prey in the underbrush that filled the forest; the same way
The Door’s smell drown out all but nearest, strongest odors. The Door allowed a soft click-creeak noise as Jackie opened it. She and Mary practically jumped through The Door, with Brian and Hubert jogging in after them.
Hubert felt like he was falling. He knew he wasn’t, both sides of The Door were on level ground, and not once did his feet fail to find footing, but he still, somehow, felt like he was falling. He wondered if his other pack mates felt that way. He also remembered that the mouth noises his pack mates made were words. They couldn’t smell like he could, so they needed words...because they weren’t dogs, they were humans. He chided himself at forgetting such simple things, before remembering that stepping back through The Door made him forget...mostly. What would he forget when they stepped back through The Door this time? Would he forget what smells were? Or how to bark, like he forgot what words were? He realized he would never know what he forgot unless he remembered it again. He might even forget his pack mates...No! The one thing Hubert knew, Door or not, was that he, Mary, Jackie, and Brian were a pack. Human or dog, home or here, they were a pack and they would stay a pack.
The overpowering stench of The Door faded on this side and Hubert instead smelled the sweet smell of the bright, brown grass (last time Brian told him the grass was green, but like all plants, the grass looked brown to Hubert) and the tangy smell of excitement on the three humans. Brian let out a loud whoopie and began running through the seemingly endless field of tall grass that somehow now occupied both sides of The Door. Hubert barked a few times before chasing after, “Brian! Wait for me!” he said, finally finding his voice.
The pair only made it a few hundred feet before Mary’s signature whistle stopped them.
“If you’re going to run, go that way!” she yelled, signaling they should turn left. “We’re meeting Den over at the village!”
“Oh yay! Den!” Brian yelled as he changed course toward Mary’s direction.
“I like Den,” Hubert said, “She’s nice. And fuzzy.”
...
They found Den Foh the Fairy in the back of her smithy, just as she finished strapping a large pack full of...something to her back. “Den!” the children yelled in unison, before racing around the maze of smithy tools and half finished projects that made up Den’s workshop. Even with the pack, Den’s enormous bulk, covered by a fine, cream colored fur, provided ample space for all three humans, and Hubert, to hug her.
“Children,” she said in her surprisingly high and lilting tone. “You made it! I was just about to head out to collect owlive oil. You can come help me.”
“What do you need olive oil for?” asked Mary.
“Probably blacksmith stuff,” said Jackie.
Den laughed a laugh like breaking glass. “Exactly,” she said, winking at Jackie. “But I don’t need olive oil. I need OWLive oil.”
“There’s no such thing as an owlive,” Jackie declared. Mary sharply elbowed her friend.
“Of course there is,” Den said. She began closing up her shop as she spoke, checking the fires were out, tools were put away, doors were locked, and the ‘COME BACK TOMORROW’ sign was in place. “It’s olive season, which means it’s owlive season.”
“I guess you don’t have owlives you all come from,” Den said, “Well, during olive season owlives will gorge on olives to the point that they begin exuding an oily discharge that the hatchlings feed off of.”
“Ew,” said Brian.
“Sounds yummy,” said Hubert.
“I’m with my brother, ew,” said Mary.
“Actually, it’s probably no different than how we get fish oil,” corrected Jackie.
“Double ew!” said Brian.
“It’s not gross. We harvest oily fish and then press them into paste to get the oil out,”
Jackie continued.
“Oh no! Who eats the fish?” Hubert asked. He hoped he would forget this when they walked back through The Door; it would be awful if humans wasted that much food.
The group walked as they talked, Den lead the way, tromping out of the town towards an olive orchard owned by a friend of hers.
“We can’t do that with owlives. There aren’t many of them, so we have to be careful to not take so much the hatchlings can’t feed. Or else we won’t have owlives or owlive oil. Good thing I don’t need much owlive oil, I can mix with more traditional olive oil and use it to quench the blade I’m making.”
“Is it a magic blade?” Mary asked.
“Are you going to give it to a hero so they can slay monsters?” Jackie said.
“No no. I don’t do that anymore,” said Den, “I’m making a chef’s knife as present for my friend. Chef’s Day is coming and he wants to show his sushi off at Boulder Town. He thinks using owlive oil in the blade’s creation will make the flavor of the oil seep into his sushi.”
“Does it?” Hubert asked, “You should make everything out of owlive oil if that’s true.”
Den laughed again, “Maybe? I don’t know. I guess it does, but I’m not the chef, I’m the blacksmith making the blade.” The party crested a small hill and before them lay what looked like an endless orchard of what Hubert guessed were olive trees. They certainly smelled like olive trees.
“Oh, before we go down, let me show you how to gently squeeze the owlives.”
...
Owlive turned out to look (at least while asleep) exactly like olives. Their feathers were drab green, slightly shiny, and when folded together linked in such a way they looked like an olive’s skin. They even smelled like olives, Hubert kept sniffing at the over sized olive in the tree that everyone assured him was an owlive, and he didn’t smell anything different.
And, as he suspected, they tasted delicious. The natural oil was rich, savory, and creamy, highlighting the delicate sweet taste of the flesh beneath. The bird let out a pitiful “hoo-,” before Hubert shook it again, spraying oil, blood, and feathers everywhere. The girls screamed and Hubert heard Brian shout his name before he stopped throttling the bird. He opened his mouth and the dead bird fell out with an unceremonious clump.
“Uh...sorry. I guess...I was hungry?” he said.
“It’s okay,” Den said, her voice betraying the fact that it wasn’t okay, “But we can’t let that happen again. Brian, why don’t you take Hubert back to the where we started setting up the squeezing equipment and you two can finish setting it up. I’ll take Jackie and Mary and show them how to safely catch the owlives and take them to you.”
“Brian, am I a bad dog?” Hubert asked as the two plodded dejectedly back to the front of the orchard.
“No! You’re the best dog!” Brian said. “You’re always around, and you play fetch, and you’re fun to pet, and you give the best lick kisses. And you talk! Other dogs don’t talk!”
“But I accidentally killed the owlive and Den is mad at me.”
“You said you were sorry. And Den didn’t yell at you. You just have to not do it again. Which you won’t, cause we’re going to set up the squeezing thingy”
Hubert still felt awful, even with Brian’s impromptu belly rubbing session. The owlive tasted so good, he felt he couldn’t help himself, but also that he should have. And he didn’t want Den to be angry, she was so kind and helpful. What if they brought the owlives back here and he killed another one? What if he and Brian were setting up the squeezey thingy wrong. He didn’t have hands, and Brian was so young compared to Den, or even Jackie and Mary. He was thinking about the future. He didn’t like thinking about the future; now he wanted to go back through The Door, where he not only didn’t think about the future, but couldn’t think about the future.
“Hey,” Brian asked suddenly. He was tightening the screws on two long poles as Hubert held them in place. “How come you only talk here?”
The pole Hubert was holding drop from his mouth as he said, “I don’t know. I just...can’t remember words on the other side. They won’t come out of my mouth.”
“Well, we should just stay here with Den forever!”
“But being here scares me. Sometimes.”
“Den and Jackie and Mary can protect us!”
“No...like...I don’t like remembering certain things. Not like words, I like words. But like, I can still remember Den being angry at me killing the owlive. I don’t like it, and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how. And I don’t want to forget when we go through the door, but I also don’t want to keep remembering. And...” Hubert trailed off as Brian dropped the poles and hugged him.
“It’s okay,” Brian said as he squeezed tighter, “Den will forgive you, I’m sure. We’re all friends right? Friends forgive friends. As long as they’re sorry, which you are, right?”
Hubert licked Brian’s face in reply, causing a giggling fit from the boy. “I am sorry. I’ll tell her again, and ask her how I can fix it.” In the distance, through the trees, they could hear Jackie and Mary chattering excitedly, they’d found quite a few owlives. Hubert was excited to know that, as they got closer, he’d be able to understand their words. Yes, this side, or the other, they were friends. He’d be okay as long as he had friends.
About the Author
Sally Hsu has been friends with Jake and Nick since moving to Portland, OR back in 2011, but only recently joined the Yeld team in 2024. If you like her work you can find her (now finished) webcomics Dubious Company and Licensed Heroes with artist Elaine Tipping.