Saida & Autumn 3: Higher Grounds

When Autumn had led her out of the Beanstalk, Saida hadn’t expected the rabbit to head right for the main campus road. More precisely, for the sidewalk that ran along it, set a good two meters lower than the road’s surface to make it harder for small cars and big paws to accidentally meet. “There’s only one coffee shop I know of on our scale that’s not in the Student Union, and it’s back closer to where I’m staying.”

“The one by Professor Row? I know it. But I was heading to Higher Grounds in Parkcrest. Have you been there?”

“No. I’m guessing the name’s a size pun? I didn’t think the town had anything built for us once you got off campus.” Saida looked up at the college entrance archway as they walked underneath it. To her, it felt like a small garden gate on an old money estate, but had to be staggeringly imposing to someone used to the rest of the world’s scale.

“It’s a pun on coffee.” She pointed ahead into the city. “It’s just a few blocks that way.”

As the ground shifted from poured concrete to broken asphalt, the sound their sandals made shifted from hard slaps to softer crunches. The neighborhood right past the college gate had become unofficially known as the DMZ. It had been run down for years, in the way light industrial areas often were; the college’s construction brought added fear of what might happen with giants and magic just past the huge walls. The DMZ had been left as a mix of increasingly squalid slums and outright abandoned buildings. The desolation all but invited giants to come out and “play monster”; what was the harm in kicking over an already-condemned building? Arilin had told her this had been one of several ongoing tensions with the city. “Wait, it’s little?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not built for us, does it? Everything’s built for us.” She laughed. “Sorry, that sounds like it should be followed by deep maniacal laughter. I just mean we live here, too, and we can go where we want as long as we’re careful about it. Besides, you said it yourself—it’s nice to have the world literally at your paws.”

“Yes, but not under them.” Saida looked ahead. The next block was in better shape; the block after that, not too many giantess-steps ahead, looked like Tiny Hipsterville. Tiny LGBT Hipsterville, to boot: rainbow flag banners hung from storefronts and lamp posts. If she were the same scale as the town, she’d love to explore it. But now, at normal size, her sandals took up more than half the width of a road lane—and, of course, well more than the full width of a sidewalk, so the road it was. Here in the DMZ, the medians were concrete, usually already cracked, and almost nobody had parked on the side of the road, so she could walk normally without fear of causing damage. Tiny Hipsterville had wide medians full of grass and flowers and even trees and benches, and parked cars lined the roadside.

“Come on. I weigh more than you do and have way bigger feet and I walk here all the time. We’re specifically allowed to be on these roads.”

“‘They can’t stop us’ isn’t the same as ‘allowed.’ I don’t see any giants out here but us, and I’m pretty sure nobody’s just crouching behind a building. Nothing’s more than hip high to me.” She waved her hand around expansively, indicating the sea of mostly one- and two-story buildings surrounding the downtown core a few miles northeast.

“If we weren’t allowed, we wouldn’t have the traffic signals, would we? For someone who says she loves being giant, you’re awfully nervous about…being giant.”

“I’m nervous about causing problems that end up causing me problems. What do you mean, traffic signals?”

“We won’t cause problems. And you haven’t seen them? Stop at the intersection here for a moment.”

Saida stopped and glanced behind her. The closest car was more than a block back, going very slow to avoid being too close to the four giant paws ahead. She bit her lip and looked ahead, down at the fragile buildings and cars and pedestrians. She’d expected the two of them to be attracting more stares, but everyone just kept going about their little business below.

Abruptly, the tops of the lamp posts lining the avenue ahead lit up red. The actual street lamps, pointing down, remained off. These looked more like airport landing lights.

“Wait for green.” The rabbit had pulled a phone out of her pocket and was tapping on it with both thumbs.

“Those are for us?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Are you...turning them on with your phone?”

Autumn glanced down at her with a laugh. “What, you think there’s a Traffic for Giants app nobody told you about? No, I’m texting our coffee order ahead. What do you want?”

“I...” She blinked rapidly, tail flicking. Arilin had never mentioned giant-safe roads, but Saida had foolishly preferred walking around—and through—town many miles away, where giants were less common and she had been putting both the littles and herself at risk. She’d caused more than one traffic accident, sent more than one crowd of pedestrians screaming away in panic, and angrily kicked one set of traffic lights into a strip mall when she nearly tripped over it. She might not have been a monster, but she’d been callous. If she’d learned earlier to be a good giant like Autumn apparently was, she might not have been cursed—

Autumn tapped her on the shoulder. “Green.”

“Oh.” Saida steeled herself, then took a big step forward, over the entire cross-street. Her sandal came down hard enough to set off two car alarms. Oh, there were the scrambling panicked pedestrians. Her ears flattened.

Autumn laughed. “Walk normally. Just watch where you’re placing your feet and keep them in the lane.”

“There are cars!” she protested. “Moving! In the same direction!”

“Yes. Don’t step on them.” Autumn walked ahead. “And when somebody tries to pass underneath you, don’t startle.”

Saida gritted her teeth, but did her best to follow the rabbit’s lead. How did the drivers know where she was putting her feet?

But—somehow—it worked. As she moved forward, the traffic started moving forward, too. The car behind her got uncomfortably close, but despite Autumn’s warning, it didn’t try to pass under her. She could see the red “landing lights” on the block ahead changing to green, then the next block; the cars on cross-streets appeared to have red lights. Evidently giants had right of way. Lights set in the street also flashed, perhaps alerting drivers they now shared the road with giants.

By the second block she’d gotten comfortable enough to increase her speed—and the car behind her had gotten comfortable enough to pass. It startled her a little, but she barely had to change her stride, she just had to be aware of where the car was. And where the pedestrians and the parked cars and the trees and the little yappy dog that should probably be on a leash were. But it wasn’t hard. And all the littles around her paws—except maybe the yappy dog—stayed aware of where she was.

“You’ve really never walked through a city?” Autumn kept her eyes on the road and her own paws, even as she made her intermingling with the auto traffic look barely more difficult than breathing.

“Of course I have! But it wasn’t...wasn’t like this. They didn’t plan for giants. Everyone here trusts me not to be a monster.”

“And?”

Saida laughed as she realized the answer. “The trust is way more of a rush.”

Autumn grinned back over her shoulder a moment, then looked forward again. “Okay.” She pointed. “The coffee shop’s right there.”

The Rha looked down. From her angle, she couldn’t see the storefront; it was just another little dollhouse building. “What do we do?”

“Lower your hand to signal people behind you that you’re stopping, like this, but right over the street.” The rabbit raised her hand, palm up. “Then move as close to the sidewalk as you can without blocking it. Or stepping on a car.”

“You’re so picky about cars.” Saida followed suit as well as she could. One parking space nearby was empty, so that made it—ah, there was another one, around the corner. It wasn’t too awkward a stance. She hoped.

Crouching, Autumn leaned over the building’s roof. People on the sidewalk backed away warily, but she smiled at one and pointed at him with a black claw. “Go inside and let them know Autumn Caligo is here to pick up her white mochas?”

Saida watched with a crooked smile. The rabbit’s tone and manner made it sound like a polite question, but her phrasing—and size—made it more of a command. The fox nodded and ducked in hurriedly.

“Hey, your paw is blocking the sidewalk.”

Autumn glanced down. “Not completely. Besides, if somebody touches my foot, it’s good luck.”

She sighed, but laughed in spite of herself. “A white mocha, huh? You didn’t wait for my order.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. “But you’ll like it.”

After a minute, a goat came out, paper cup in each hand. From above, the most noticeable thing about her was a shocking blue mohawk. If Autumn had the perkygoth vibe going, this woman looked like she’d just leapt off the stage at a punk club. “Hey, Autumn,” she called up. “Who’s your friend with her paw in the loading zone?” She set both cups down on the sidewalk, about six feet apart, then leaned against Autumn’s lucky foot to look up.

“This is Saida. Saida, this is Kim.”

Saida crouched. Her balance seemed steady enough, but given that if she fell she’d take out at least one store even if she put her hand out to catch herself, she felt more than a little paranoid. “Hi.”

Kim’s eyes swept up and down Saida. “Hey. Nice to meet you.” She looked back toward Autumn’s face and gave her a thumbs up, with an expression that clearly read good catch!

Autumn grinned down, then looked to Saida. “So, you’re probably wondering how we drink those.”

“That’s a leading line, isn’t it?”

“It is. Everyone clear?”

“Clear.” Kim stepped back herself.

Autumn lifted a hand and traced a symbol in the air, murmuring something under her breath. Her clawtip flared and sparked as if it were a match she’d just struck. Then she tapped it carefully to each tiny cup. The cups sparked, too, then abruptly expanded in size, each one now standing taller than the goat woman.

Saida’s eyes widened.

Scattered clapping came from watchers on the sidewalk, including a couple big claps from Kim. “That’s always so cool.”

Autumn picked up both cups, then straightened and handed one to Saida. She took a sip from her own. “Great as always, Kim.”

The goat gave her a thumbs-up, grinning, and headed inside again.

The rabbit motioned with her free hand. “There’s a park a couple blocks away that should have enough space to sit down in.”

“All right.” Saida smiled. “Let’s go.”