Rebirth {Book One}

Chapter 12

"I'm Leo, and ditto."

"Ditto?"

"Sorry, it means 'same'"

You are not from the same time period as these people, dude I reminded myself.

"Oh, is that a different language?"

I shrugged. "So to speak, but anyway, I have a hard question for you."

"Throw it my way." She brushed her black hair behind her ear.

"Know anything about basilisks?"

She suddenly looked alarmed. "You're not looking to tame them, are you? Cause the last guy that tried, well..."

"No, I need the venom for Emily's healing salve."

"That's really not any less dangerous."

I pushed further. "Tell me what you know about them, or at least where to find them."

She sighed. "Don't tell me I didn't warn you."

Lynette told me everything she knew;

Basilisks were ten feet long and looked like ordinary snakes, with the exception of frills around their head. They had needle-sharp teeth and venom that could corrode skin, which they could spit far and fast. They live deep underground in nests of three to four.

"Please be careful." She pleaded.

"Don't worry, I'm not eager to turn into a puddle." I reassured her.

Waving goodbye to Lynette, I headed to the smithies after asking a few passersby for directions. There were a few guys and a few girls hammering away at the anvils. There were a bunch of tables with tools, pieces of metal, screws, and a bunch of other bits and pieces. Blades were put in buckets filled with water to cool. In the corner, there was a bin full of broken, corrugated, and twisted bits of metal next to a coal bin.

One guy seemed to notice me as I approached. "What'cha need?"

"I need scrap metal." I gestured at the rejects bin.

"Why?"

"A project small enough to not need a big sheet of iron."

He didn't look convinced. "That garbage gonna break on you in no time."

"If it does, then I'll only have my workmanship to blame." I shrugged.

He opened his mouth to say something but shook his head. "Whatever. Knock yourself out."

As the dude headed back to his anvil, I checked out the stuff in the bin;
A whole bunch of metal showing varying signs of damage, dented, twisted, half-melted from heating accidents, you name it. Leather straps that were starting to become stiff and cracked. A random fork, three out of four tines missing. A whole bunch of needles, nails, screws, and nuts.

I picked out random pieces of metal and bent and smacked them on the side of the bin to test their integrity. In the end, there were only two that were fit for use, but I decided it'll be enough. A few similar tests for leather straps later, and I had my materials. I also snatched up a pair of heat-damaged tongs from the bin for easier handling. Holding them in my arms, I stood up and headed back to the Pod when suddenly;

"IT'S ALL THEIR FAULT!" A dry voice yelled from behind me. I wheeled around and saw a small old lady pointing a gnarled finger at me, a silver ring with a symbol on it, a family crest maybe?

"What?" I readjusted the pile of scrap in my arms.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT MY BOY IS D-" Her voice caught on the last word, and I had a feeling it ended with the letters E, A, and D.