A Town Without Jellyfish

The sky had graduated from pale morning to soft, shining afternoon by the time they left the small camp. Frieren walked at an even step, pale cloak rustling against the high grass.Her gaze was distant, as though she tracked forms in floating clouds or counted the years that fell between moments,a movement she was unaware of. SpongeBob trailed a few paces behind, big and wide eyes, all the small things shining with newness. He kicked at a rock, and it tumbled off down the path, then stopped.

"So… you don't live in a house, then? Or like, a pineapple under the sea?" He chuckled at the idea, obviously thinking it funny. "I used to live in one. It was snug! Lots of room.".

Frieren's white lips curled into a smile. "No pineapple. No permanent home. I move, as the years go by."

SpongeBob bent his head to the side, his nose scrunched up. "But… if you don't stay in one place, how do you know where to go? Do you just follow the wind? Or perhaps a star map?"

She gazed at him for just a moment, her voice low. "Sometimes, the path isn't chosen. It chooses you."

The sponge's smile expanded, eyes twinkling. "Oh! Like jellyfish! You don't chase them, they sort of float by, and you just ride the drift. I like that! Riding the drift sounds like fun."

Frieren's eyes flashed with something akin to warmth. "You have a childlike way of seeing things, perhaps I could learn to do that."

SpongeBob smiled, folding his arms behind him as he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. "And maybe I could practice caring less about where I'm going! I'm a master at flipping patties, but at directions? Not exactly."

Frieren said nothing for a moment, then replied softly. "Time is different for me. A moment for you is but a breath for me."

SpongeBob blinked, and then grinned. "Well, whether it's a blink or a breath, I'm glad we're experiencing it. And hey, if you ever need to go jellyfishing through fields of jellyfish, I'm your sponge!"

The wind whipped up, tugging at their cloaks as they walked side by side, two vagabonds in a world that each didn't fully understand.

They crested a low ridge where the road curved, and the land lay spread beneath, a small town steeped between shallow hills, its roofs clustered like folded paper, chimneys upright and awry. No walls, no sentries, no sound of shouting or laughter. Only a few smoke curls from chimneys and the lounging drag of clothes on a line that had not been taken in. The road wound down to meet it, as though the planet itself had tired and needed a place to sit.

SpongeBob squinted, winced. "Is that it? The town?"

Frieren hummed softly. "It is."

"It looks. he paused, eyebrows creased. "Quieter. Do people around here not yell when their kelp fries are behind?"

"There is no sea here," Frieren replied, tone biting.

He considered that, then nodded seriously. "Huh, that includes no sea breeze either, weird."

She didn't grin,but there was a flicker of something in her eyes.

Nearer to town, the fields gave way to vegetable beds, not weeded but not left to ruin either, rows of wilted cabage and leggy beans, stalks propped against rickety wooden stakes. A scarecrow in one bed stood with its hat pulled down over one button eye, arms outstretched in a posture that was more tired than threatening.

The first houses they arrived at were small, one-story things with drooping shutters and noss of stones between. Their doors were closed, windows steamier than the atmosphere. A house had wind chimes made of bent spoons and twiggy sticks, barely creaking in the stagnant atmosphere. There was a wooden cart on its side in the road, its wheel smashed and half-concealed in dust.

The stillness thickened the further in they went. It was not a creepy stillness, but the kind that comes from people leaving and not returning. Leaves had piled up in the corners, and a chicken pecked on its own through the ground with little passion.

A curtain shook minutely from a window, but no one was ever observed.

Above, a weathered sign creaked under the wind. It lacked paint, but faint lines indicated it might once have been a tavern. Across the road, there was a capped well whose rope was frayed, whose bucket was missing.

And still no voices. Just the soft pressure of their footsteps, the rustling of cloaks, and now and then a distant flutter of wings far up in the sky.

They walked under the groaning sign.

The building that it occupied used to be a tavern. Inside, it was musty with a whiff of dried herbs and the richer, lingering tang of yeast—like the smell of old ale embedded in the wood. Tables were drunkenly angled, some held up by one leg by smooth river stones. Two chairs were overthrown, unbreached. Dust covered everything in a thin, uniform layer, like the building had been mid-breath and breathed no more.

SpongeBob rubbed the rim of the bar, wiped his finger through the dust, and grimaced at the smudge it made. "People sat here when?" 

Frieren nodded once. "Years ago, maybe. Or just one year. It's hard to say."

SpongeBob strolled around one of the tables, looked at a dried stain. "I think they used to serve Krabby Patties here. Or… what whatever ocean surface dwellers eat." He paused. "Nah, krill. That would be weird."

Frieren did not say anything, but her gaze fell on the doorways in the back—kitchen, cellar, storage rooms. All closed. Nothing stirred.

SpongeBob scooped up a fork from the ground, examined its bent tine, and set it down on the bar as though it was meant to be there. He walked over to the window, polished a clear circle on the glass with the back of his hand, and looked out. "It's so quiet. Like everybody just. forgot to come back."

Frieren did not respond. She froze for a second, one hand laid loosely over the head of her staff. Her eyes raked the walls, the shelves, the cracked lantern that hung on a hook near the fire.

The wind outside changed again, rustling dryly through the empty streets. A dog barked in the hills—one time—before the noise was eaten by distance.

They finally left the tavern.

Down the street, they passed a blacksmith's shop. The forge had gone cold a long time, the coals cold, powdered with old ash. Tools still leaned against the walls—hammers, tongs, files. All in their place, waiting for the smith to return at any moment. But a mat of leaves lay over the anvil, and a birds' nest held the rafters.

SpongeBob picked up a small horseshoe from a bucket and turned it over in his hands. "They just left all this behind," he whispered.

"They didn't expect to be away for long," Frieren said.

They didn't linger. The town was small, just one curve of road that wrapped gently around a cracked fountain. There was a statue in the middle of the stone fountain basin—weathered, its face rounded from rain and wind. It might have been a hero, a founder, or just a fellow who'd given enough cash to be commemorated.

Frieren sat on the rim of the fountain. SpongeBob approached, sitting beside her. He did not speak. He gazed at the statue, then up at the sky, then at his hands.

Later, he pulled out a diminutive carving knife from his waistband—stolen from a crate they had passed by and grabbed—tapping a sliver of pale wood scrap. Blushing, almost shyly, he began to carve.

"Still working on your spatula?" Frieren asked, voice quiet.

"Mhm," he nodded, chips falling into his lap. "It's not really about finishing it, y'know. It's about doing it right."

Frieren leaned back slightly, cloak catching the wind. "You're strange," she said.

SpongeBob smiled, not looking up. "I get that a lot."

The quiet around the town grew thicker as the sun dipped lower, the shadows stretching out long and narrow across the empty streets. SpongeBob kept on carving, the soft rasp of wood against stone barely audible over the wind. Frieren watched him, then stood up and arched her back, the cloak whispering in the quiet.

A crunching noise materialized at the edge of the woods. Leaves crunched and branches snapped, dry and brittle in the silence. SpongeBob remained frozen, knife raised above the wood.

"What was that?" he whispered, eyes wide with wonder.

Frieren's eyes hardened. "Stay close." She crept toward the edge of the trees, movement slow and soundless.

They walked towards a strait path covered in dense brambles and thorny vines. The atmosphere was different here — colder, sharper, like iron and damp ground.

And then, between two twisted trunks, they caught sight of it: a huge form huddled low, covered by mottled bark-colored scales that dully reflected what was left of the light. Its arms were long and twisted, ending in clawed hands burrowing into the ground. Eyes—deep amber and faintly shining—gazed at them unblinking.

SpongeBob's jaw fell open, then snapped shut, usual cheeriness lost. "What… what is that?"

Frieren's voice was calm but firm. "A timberwraith. They prey on the life around them—leaving emptiness behind. This one has made the town its hunting ground."

The creature let out a low growl, leaves trembling on its back as it rose taller, blocking the path with limbs like broken branches.

SpongeBob swallowed hard, gripping his half-carved spatula. "Uh, guess we're not getting ice cream here today."

Frieren moved forward, her expression unreadable but her hold on her staff tightening. "Stay back."

The timberwraith twisted, its slow, evil grin distorting its cracked lips. "You wander into the forgotten," it spat, its voice a rustle of dry leaves. "What are you searching for, little sponge?"

SpongeBob ground out a smile, trying to be bolder than he was. "Just. looking for a place to call home. And maybe a good krabby patty."

Frieren's eyes glinted icily. "You will leave, or be eaten."

SpongeBob stared at her, hope breaking out. "Got any magic for that?"

Frieren said nothing, but the air seemed to grow heavy, charged with pent-up power.

The battle for the idyllic town began.

The timberwraith's eyes burned brighter, its twisted limbs creaking as it advanced. Frieren's hand tightened on her staff, and SpongeBob gripped his wooden spatula like a lifeline. Between the fading light and the growing shadow, two strangers faced a darkness neither fully understood. The quiet town held its breath.

And then,everything waited.