As I’d more or less predicted, everyone decided to accompany us on our walk in the end. I’ll admit I’d been expecting Sandra, at least, to say something along the lines of Plants don’t go on walks, but even she tagged along. Going out on an evening stroll with the whole family was a rare treat.
The nighttime air in the highlands was refreshingly chilly. Flatorte, who was a fan of cold weather in general, seemed to be particularly enjoying it. Halkara had talked about getting some fresh air the day before, and I had to admit, it really was tempting to just stand still and take a long, deep breath. Or at least, it would’ve been…
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…if it weren’t for the distraction of the mimic, which was still latched onto Halkara’s helmet.
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“Does this even count as taking it for a walk, at this point?!” It’s literally not even walking!
“Some pet owners take their kittens for walks by carrying them around the neighborhood, Madame Teacher! This is basically the same thing,” said Halkara.
“Okay, but the image here is a lot less heartwarming than that sounds!” This is closer to something out of a horror movie, at least on the surface! There’s no way we could walk around like this if anyone else was here to see us! “Also, wasn’t the whole point of this walk giving the mimic some time running around outside? Considering how it’s acting, I’m starting to think it might not have wanted to go out in the first place…”
Treasure chests belonged in caves or buildings, not out in the middle of wide-open fields. Even if a mimic did end up out in the wild for whatever reason, it would look so out of place that it’d get found out in an instant and nobody would ever open it. Plus, the wind and rain seemed like they’d be really bad for the box itself. Sitting around outside felt like a health hazard, from a mimic’s perspective.
“Okay then, Mistress—I’ll try prying it off her! That should clear things up,” said Flatorte. She stepped over to Halkara and yanked the mimic off her helmet in an instant. For a dragon, apparently, overcoming a mimic’s jaw strength was hardly any different from removing a paperclip from a bundle of papers.
Flatorte set the mimic down on the grassy ground.
“Okay, mimic! If you wanna run around, now’s your chance!”
For a few seconds, the mimic seemed to survey its surroundings. Then, all of a sudden, it started bouncing around the field in huge leaps.
“Huh! That thing can really clear some distance, actually,” I said, a little impressed.
“According to Shalsha’s guidebook, jumping is a mimic’s primary form of locomotion. They jump around until they find a place where a treasure chest would plausibly be located, where they settle.”
That was when I realized Shalsha had brought the guidebook she’d been reading along with her on the walk. It seemed a little bulky to me, but then again, as long as she wasn’t running around with it, it probably wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.
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The mimic jumped along happily, occasionally letting its tongue flop out from within its chest. I felt a little grateful toward it, actually—it had given me a rare opportunity to go on a stroll with my whole family.
“Hmm. The way it jumps feels kinda weighty and deliberate, doesn’t it? Slime jumps are a much lighter motion,” I noted. I’d been watching slimes hop around for three hundred years, and I considered myself something of an expert in the field.
“Shalsha believes there’s something spring-like about the mimic’s anatomy within the chest. It compresses that spring-like mechanism, which generates the force to propel itself into the air by releasing it,” Shalsha said, her face practically pressed into her guidebook as she spoke.
“Something spring-like, huh…? I guess it’d have to be something like that, seeing as it doesn’t have legs sticking out of the bottom or anything.” Monster anatomy’s even more complex than animal anatomy, isn’t it?
“Nice, nice! Looks like the mimic’s really enjoying this walk! I knew it’d be a good idea to let it outside every once in a while!” Halkara said with a clap of her hands.
She was acting a little like one of those know-it-all pet owners, and she seemed very pleased to see the mimic looking so happy and energetic. I could understand where she was coming from. I’d brought it all the way back to the house in the highlands, so it’d be a shame if it didn’t enjoy its new life here.
Every once in a while, the mimic seemed to screw up a jump and only get a tiny bit of air compared to its usual leaps. Sometimes, it even ended up moving in the opposite direction it wanted to. Its movements were imprecise in a way that made it oddly fun to watch. In any case, I figured as long as the mimic itself was enjoying the experience, a failed jump or two wasn’t a problem at all.
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…Hmm?
……“The mimic itself”? Come to think of it, isn’t there an open question here I probably should’ve addressed a long time ago?
“Hey, Halkara?” I asked.
“Ah, yes, Madame Teacher? I didn’t bring any dust to feed it, if that’s what you were wondering.”
I mean, I’d hope not! Something about the idea of bringing a pocketful of dust along on a walk just feels nasty… Though then again, that’s what it eats, and there’s not really any avoiding that.
“No, that’s not it. I was just thinking we keep calling the mimic ‘it’ or ‘the mimic,’ right? Shouldn’t we come up with a name for it?”
Halkara gave me a blank stare. “Huh? Why? What’s wrong with calling it ‘the mimic’? There aren’t any other mimics around for us to confuse it with, so I can’t see why that would be a problem.”
“Sure, it’s not confusing, but it just feels so cold, doesn’t it?!” Also, it’s weird how inconsistent your attitude is! Why would you care enough to suggest taking it for a walk and not enough to bother giving it a name?! If anything, you’d think the name would be the higher priority!