I do not want to hide from people. I still do not understand why I ran that night. Husband mentioned something called "stage fright," but I was not trying to perform for people.

I did not want that feeling of being stared at, but I did not want to stay away from people. It would have been very easy to stay at home and read or craft, or go far out in the field and gather. But I did not travel to Limsa because I wanted an easy life, and this was another form of challenge. I needed to level in people.

Mrs. Hobbes did not seem to want to look at me at the library. I made that harder by talking with her. "Hello. Do you know of Tony Hillerman?"

She blinked and let her eyes meet mine. "Oh! You like murder mysteries?"

"My husband said he wrote western stories."

"Well, they're set in New Mexico, but they're really more modern day police procedurals. Is that what you're looking for?"

"I have been reading books by Zane Grey."

"Oh, that's not the same at all! Here, let me show you..."

We spent time in the Western section and the Mystery section. We talked about the books, she more than I. It felt normal. It felt comfortable. I could feel others looking at me. I decided to not care.

We settled on a book by Tony Hillerman and a book by Louis L'amour (who I suspect is neither Ishgardian nor miqo'te). Mrs. Hobbes was relaxed with me once more. I was allowed to borrow the books without the card other people use.

After that I went to a computer to do research. Deer meat did not work as a substitute for antelope meat. If we were to use it we would need a new recipe.

Deer meat is called "venison." There are many venison recipes, most of which are some form of stew. But I did find recipes for "venison pie." I thought perhaps this would be something more we could sell at the diner, or at least have as a convenient meal.

The simplest recipe involved ground venison. I did not know how to make ground venison, but I had seen ground beef at May's store. I went there from the library.

May looked nervous. I did not think I had yelled that loudly at her, but perhaps no one else ever yelled at her. But straightforward had worked with Mrs Hobbes. "Hello. Do you grind meat here?"

"Uh...what?"

"You sell ground beef. Do you grind it here?"

"No, no, I don't. I-I-I just get it that way."

"Do you know where I can get meat ground?"

"M-maybe the Safeway down the highway? The meat department?"

I thanked her and left. She may be a bigger challenge.

I took the bus to the Safeway. I went to the meat department. The man there said they do not grind other people's meat. He recommended a place further down the highway called Henderson's Block.

Another short bus ride that used more money took me to Henderson's Block, a building with a large fenced area behind it. I went in and met a large bearded man with an apron. "Afternoon, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"I need some meat ground. Can you do that for me?"

"We talkin' whole carcass?"

There was a pile of white paper on the counter. I placed some venison cuts on it. "Three pounds of venison."

"Just three pounds? I can do that for two dollars a pound. Uh...where'd you get it?"

"My husband and I hunt."

He looked at the meat. "This recent?"

"Three weeks ago."

"Uh, can't be. That's outa season."

"Season?"

He looked at me oddly. "You can only hunt during huntin' season. This state, that starts in October."

"I did not know that."

"Yeah, so, I can't do anything with fresh venison cuz you can't have it. An' you can't have it cuz I'd have to report you an' stuff. An' I don't think we want that."

"We do not want that."

He studied me a moment, looked around the empty shop, then gathered up the meat on the paper. "Hang on. Gotta check on somethin'."

He disappeared into a back room. I could hear machinery running. He then returned with a paper-wrapped bundle, which he offered to me. "Yeah, sorry I couldn't help you."

I handed him money. "I am sorry for wasting your time."

"No worries. Come back in season some time."

"I will. Thank you"

I think I am levelling in people.

Most of the venison is in Husband's inventory, otherwise I would have had it all ground. But there were also recipes for chopped and cubed venison, which I can probably do myself. It does not matter right away, since, if we cannot have venison now, we cannot have venison pies to sell now.

Husband was a little embarrassed about it when I met him at the diner for dinner. "Crap. Forgot about hunting season. He said October? That's in three weeks, so it'll be fine after that. Just don't talk about us hunting until then."

"Why are there hunting seasons?"

"Mostly to keep people from killing all the animals off. We don't have to worry about that because our kills respawn. But other people won't understand that, so we should keep quiet about it."

"Along with all the other things we keep quiet about."

"Yeah, but this is a little different. People do hunt out of season...it's illegal, but it happens. So, not only should we not talk about respawns because people would freak, we shouldn't talk about hunting out of season because people might tell the police."

"What about the gathering we do?"

"Pretty much the same. Don't tell people exactly where we gather from, in case someone checks with the land owner."

"So we are breaking laws, but the laws do not apply to us, but we cannot explain why that is true."

"Exactly."

Yet there are people like Henderson, or whoever the man was at Henderson's Block, who are understanding about breaking some laws. It will be important to know who those people are.

It was my turn to work the counter that night. I found this easier than mopping because I was not being stared at when I was too busy to relate to the people. Working the counter in fact meant I was confronting them. I made myself smile and look into their faces. When they stared at my beret or looked away from me rather than ordering, I kept smiling and repeated, "What can I get for you?" The second time was usually enough, though one man did mumble something and leave without ordering.

I do not know why I ran away that time. I am not the problem. I was born this way. I may be unusual in this world, but I am not the problem for being what I am. Husband's story is that I had myself changed to look like this, but even his story says how I am is how I want to be. Even without his story, I would never consider changing myself to look like others to make the others happy.

I think people need to level in me.