Hungry Heart - Book #3 - Ch. 2 (Patreon)
Content
Chapter Two – Secret Voices
“I must say that I now understand why you yearned so much to come back here,” Varg confessed to Claw as they lay side by side under the naked sky. “It’s easy to call it paradise. To think that the Great Barren is only beyond these trees.”
Claw chuckled and pulled him close. They were speaking quietly between themselves while Toru and Duril slept in a tight embrace by the embers of the fire.
“It seems to me that you’re forgetting that we walked for days and nights on end to reach here from Zukh Kalegh.”
“I believe that it must be the sweetness of the waters here that can make one forget about all the trials and tribulations that ever happened to them.”
“Elders used to say that the waters of The Quiet Woods can heal both body and soul. As a cub, I thought they were just proud of the beauty of our forest. I had to get away from it to really think of it just as they said.”
“You were blessed to be born and raised in such a place. No wonder you’re who you are today. Roots grow the strongest here, don’t they?”
Claw fell silent for a moment. Varg waited for him to say something, but it appeared that the bearshifter was in a world of his own even though their hands were linked together.
“Is there something on your mind?” he asked.
“We’re only at the outskirts of the forest, far from its heart, but I was expecting us to meet at least a few people already, shifters or humans.”
“They don’t have settlements all over the place if I remember what you told me correctly,” Varg reminded him.
Duril had said that he couldn’t hear the forest speaking. He himself was getting scared of little river creatures. And now Claw worried that he hadn’t seen anyone, strangers or the people he used to know. Centuries had passed since Claw had last set foot in The Quiet Woods, which meant that many of those people might not even be alive. Shapeshifters lived long lives, but humans didn’t. If one or more of the latter had a special place in Claw’s heart, Varg knew that it wouldn’t serve to dwell on their memory. Maybe their descendants were still around, but would they recall old stories about a bearshifter that had once left for a life of adventure?
“Is the forest the same as you remember it?” he asked when Claw remained silent.
“Even more beautiful, puppy, much more than in the dreams I had while walking the long, dark corridors of that godforsaken labyrinth.”
“Then it could be that humans and shifters alike just changed the places where they like to dwell. Don’t tell me you remember each corner. It’s a forest, it grows and changes year to year, let alone century to century.”
“Yes, any forest does that,” Claw acquiesced. “But what if I told you that here, nothing seems to have changed?”
Varg waited for Claw to say that what he was saying was a joke, but the bearshifter remained silent, waiting for a reply. “Nothing? Do you really mean it? Your eyes must be playing tricks on you, old bear.”
“Ah, you must be right,” Claw said like he was waiting for someone to contradict him and those unsettling thoughts.
“You know, while I didn’t pay a lot of attention to your stories before, how about you tell me about The Quiet Woods as you remember them?”
“But we’re here. I can just as well show you.”
“All right, but don’t let Duril know that I gave in to the temptation. We’re supposed to sleep at night.”
“He didn’t really mean it, I’m sure,” Claw hurried to reassure him. “We’re the kind to haunt the night, not the other way around.”
“Without a doubt,” Varg admitted. “So, what are you going to show me, big bear?”
Claw stood and offered his hand. “Allow me to surprise you.”
Varg didn’t mind a midnight stroll in the bearshifter’s company. And his curiosity about the place was growing stronger with each passing moment. What could have made it possible for such a beautiful place to exist on the face of the world? There had to be an explanation and Varg expected it to be a wondrous one.
They walked side by side, along the riverside. Claw remained silent for quite a while, so Varg decided to follow his example and not disturb the quiet of the night.
“You’re probably wondering why these are called The Quiet Woods,” the bearshifter started after he had perched on a small cliff jutting out from the bank and sat over the running waters below.
“Yes, I am,” Varg admitted. “It’s quite a strange thing, but Duril couldn’t use his gift on the trees here. They remained silent to his inquiries. Or maybe, since we are here, in these woods, it shouldn’t be so strange. After all, if the trees choose not to talk, it must be because they’re part of this magical place.”
“The forest doesn’t talk to just anyone,” Claw said. “But it surprises me that your gentle healer wasn’t able to get it to strike up a conversation.” A bubble of laughter lay right beneath those words, so Varg chuckled.
“Hey, he was quite disappointed,” he said. “Duril is strong and kind, but he’s at fault for not seeing himself for what he truly is. Thus, he fears that he must have lost the gift granted to him by Lady Amethyst of Fairside.”
Claw lay on his belly and let one hand drop into the river, caressing its gentle waves as they passed. “I don’t believe he should fear that. Are you ready for the fairytale of The Quiet Woods?”
“Never been readier. But wait, a fairytale? Should I trust that what you’re telling me is a true story or only one meant for children at bedtime?”
“The Quiet Woods are a place where fairytales are born and come true.”
“When you put it like that, I have no other choice but to believe you. Please, don’t mind me. I’d very much like to hear about the beginnings of this magical forest.”
To prove his determination to be a quiet listener, Varg sat by Claw’s side, his eyes drawn to the movement of the bearshifter’s fingers in the river water. That tender caress looked like the beginning of a good fairytale.
“Once upon a time,” Claw began, “in this place, the desert stood king. Zukh Kalegh was yet to be born from mud and blood, and only the wind traveled here. The nights were frigid, and the days were scorching hot. Nothing grew here, not even the seldom shrub or desert rats. But, as I said, the wind moved over these vast lands, and its soul and spirit was, the elders say, no one other than Shearah herself.”
“The witch making those tiny birdhouses?” Varg asked. “But I thought she was just an old witch happening by.”
“Shearah is an old name. The witch just happened to be named after the mistress of the wind that saw this patch of land and dreamed of turning it into the forest you see today. Or so they said. As children, we always suspected that the old witch was actually the real Shearah. But she herself denied such things as nothing but nonsense.”
“She may still be alive. Old witches tend to be the closest thing to immortal there is. Demophios would have been jealous.”
“By the state of her birdhouses, I tend to believe that the old sack of bones is still around. I’m just wondering why she didn’t bother to make her presence known so far.”
“She must be very old. Do you really expect her to come rushing to see you?” Varg joked, although he, as much as Claw, sensed something not quite right about the forest the big bear loved so much.
Before, whenever his instincts, honed by battle and a life of adventure, sharpened suddenly to let him know of incoming danger, Varg had always listened to them. Nonetheless, he was unfamiliar with this slight restlessness that seemed to simmer under the surface. He had sensed it in Duril when the healer had talked about the forest not answering his voice, and when he had dove into the river and witnessed the beauty underneath. Now, he could feel it in the bearshifter, too, and yet he was still at odds with whether he should let his instincts guide him on the right path or wait and see where things would go just by sitting by and watching idly.
“I guess you have a point, puppy. We’ll see when she decides to make an appearance, because she will,” the bearshifter said with conviction. “Now, back to the story. The wind spirit Shearah, according to what the eldest among us said, decided that all the seeds she gathered from places all over the continent should have a home here. It was, as it seemed, quite an ambitious thing to attempt, even for someone as magical as she was.”
“I’ve noticed that plants and trees and shrubs that shouldn’t be found sharing the same patch of land together live here in perfect harmony.” Varg caught a leaf that fell from a nearby tree and settled playfully on his head. “And the voices of the birds all form part of the same melody.”
Claw chuckled softly. “If one were to look at you, puppy, they would have trouble imagining the gentle soul you hide underneath.”
“I just have eyes,” Varg replied but leaned into Claw’s shoulder. “Tell me more about the wind spirit Shearah.”
“Most of us never saw or heard her,” Claw continued, “but there were some really old shifters who claimed to have been around when the forest began to grow from the many seeds she brought from all over the world.”
“Some shifters live very long lives, but are we talking centuries? Millennia?” Varg asked.
“At some point, you no longer care about counting the years you’ve lived on earth,” Claw said. “We didn’t really think they were speaking the truth, not because we thought those elders wanted to fool us in some way, but because for them the time seemed to have a life of its own and changed as they saw fit.”
“What kind of shifters were they?” Varg inquired. “Bears, like you?”
Claw shook his head. “No, they were eagles, so old that they no longer flew and the feathers in their wings were long gone.”
“A forest for eagles? It doesn’t sound like a place they would choose for their nests.”
Claw gestured with one arm to the west. “The Quiet Woods spread over vast tracts of land, so far that humans would need weeks on foot to travel them from one side to the other. At the edge of these lands, the earth gives way to lakes and marshes, and cliffs and rocks jut out of them. That is where eagleshifters used to live.”
“Did you go there? As a cub or a young bear in search of adventures?”
The teasing was not only for show. Varg enjoyed having such talks with the bear. He could sense the power growing inside Claw ever since they set foot in this magical place. Briefly, he wondered whether they should stop asking the bearshifter to join them on their adventures. Nothing could truly compete with his place of birth.
“Sure thing I went there. We were young, and like all youngsters, we wanted to prove ourselves by doing the craziest and most daring things. For bears, traveling high and low in search of the tastiest honey and sweetest river springs was one of them. Not that our own elders didn’t warn us not to go that far.”
“Why would they warn you? I thought bravery was in your blood,” Varg teased Claw a little more.
“It wasn’t a matter of courage, but one of respect that our elders wanted to make us aware of. You see, they knew that the old eagleshifters needed their peace and quiet in their many years. They didn’t want us to go there and disturb them. Of course, when we were nothing but cubs, they told us scary stories to prevent us from going there. Not that it worked, obviously.”
“You keep saying ‘we’. Do you happen to have siblings, Claw?”
“Not of the same mother and father, but there were other bears I used to know.” Claw fell quiet for a moment. “Especially two of them. One, we called him Beast,” he said and laughed for a moment.
“Was he that scary?”
“More like he had the most horrendous table manners. If I think about it, we never called him anything else, and we didn’t even know his real name. I’m not sure he even knew it. He was capable of swallowing a basket of fish without chewing, and liked to scare old ladies and children by painting his muzzle with raspberry juice so that he looked more frightening.”
“He sounds like a swell guy,” Varg said and laughed as well.
“He surely was.” Claw sighed and then cleared his throat. “The other companion of mine was Willow.”
“That’s quite a strange name for a bearshifter.”
“Not for this one. His parents must have known how he would turn out. Well, in all truth, he did come from a noble family, so maybe it was expected of him to become as graceful as he did. Unlike Beast who was the bulkiest, roundest bear I’ve ever seen, Willow was tall and thin by bear standards. And of course, he was continuously appalled by how much Beast could eat. Still, he preferred our company to anyone else’s, despite what his parents thought.”
“So, you three were quite the merry group of bears.”
“Indeed, and as soon as we heard about a place where we were forbidden to travel, we set out on a new trip. It took us a few days to reach the edge and meet the eagleshifters, but we had the forest on our side and all the food we could eat. It was quite an adventure. But maybe I’ll tell you more about Willow and Beast another time.”
“Not maybe, you really have to tell me more about your friends,” Varg said right away. He wanted to learn as much as he could about Claw, and these stories of his childhood were part of who the handsome bear was.
“Will do, puppy, will do. Now, let me tell you that as brave as we believed ourselves to be, we got a little scared when we finally reached the cliffs where the eagleshifters lived. We had never seen marshes before, and Beast wanted to take a mud bath as soon as we got there. Because of his hefty behind, he sank in them and almost took us with him. But the eagleshifters made an appearance and pulled us out.”
“I knew you must have been a very naughty cub, but I’m glad to hear that there was one even naughtier than you.”
“I’m hurt you think that I’m not the naughtiest,” Claw retorted but chuckled with good humor. “The eagleshifters got us to a safe place at the foot of their cliffs and told us about Shearah. They were glad to see us, even though you wouldn’t have been able to tell by how upset they were at first because they had to pull us out of the marshes. Still, I think that our parents were wrong. Those eagleshifters were happy to have visitors and ears to listen to their tales from times so long-forgotten.”
“What did they tell you about the wind spirit?”
“They told us stories about a young girl who liked to play and had big dreams. For her, the unforgiving desert was a place of death, where nothing grew, so she took it upon herself to change it into a forest that would stretch so far that it would cover everything until it met the sea on all sides.”
“That sounds terribly ambitious,” Varg commented. “Did she want to turn the entire world into a paradise like here?”
“It might have been her dream for Eawirith. At least the eagles said as much. But she was a young spirit and didn’t realize what it would take to carry out such a task. She was fast and she could travel everywhere, gathering seeds and bringing them to this place she had chosen as the birthplace of her new world.”
“If that was her dream, we know for sure that she hasn’t succeeded in seeing it come true.”
“Indeed. One thing she didn’t understand was that she was spending her soul and power freely for the new seeds to grow in such an inhospitable soil.”
“Did she start losing her power at some point?” Varg asked.
“Yes, that is exactly what happened. But even as she realized that she was no longer as powerful as before, she didn’t stop. And, according to the eagleshifters we talked to, she didn’t mind it, either. Her dream was much more important, so she just continued. Along with the forest that grew, new bugs and creatures began to appear and dwell inside it. Shearah was such a wondrous spirit that she could even make springs come from the earth and turn into rivers.”
“Rivers with the tastiest fish you can find in all Eawirith,” Varg pointed out.
“Yes, nothing but the best for the world Shearah was imagining. However, her powers began to wane day after day. It got harder and harder for her to bring new seeds and grow them into amazing trees and houses for the creatures needing shelter. Until one day, she realized that she was bound to the earth and could no longer rise and fly.”
Varg somehow knew that this fairytale wouldn’t have the usual happy ending. “What happened to her?”
“The eagleshifters said that they found her lying on the ground, sleeping soundly. They tried to wake her up, but she couldn’t be stirred from her slumber. So they took her deep, deep into the forest that she loved so much and placed her inside the hollow trunk of an old oak. They did so because she used to tell them that it was the only place where she could close her eyes and sleep. The tree had been half-dead for a while, no one knew why, but once Shearah was inside it, new bark grew and hid her within. The eagleshifters said that the oak tree spoke to them and told them that now Shearah was finally finding her rest.”
“And the forest remained as she made it,” Varg concluded. “The grandiose plans of turning the entire Eawirith into a beautiful forest must have halted then.”
“That is what happened,” Claw confirmed. “In her memory, many girls, humans and shifters alike, have been named Shearah ever since. In that way, even our old witch was named after her.”
“What do you think, Claw? Could the witch you’re talking about be the spirit wind?”
Claw shook his head. “Our elders used to say that Shearah lives in all of us, so it would be both right and wrong to say that the old witch was her. You seem much interested in her, so we will do our best to find her since she might still be around.”
“Call me silly, but I believe I heard the wind whisper to me. It might have been nothing but my imagination.”
Claw didn’t seem in the slightest inclined to believe that. “What did it tell you?”
“Do you really think that I heard it?”
“Yes. There is nothing and no one more revered here than the wind because it was part of what made Shearah who and what she was.”
“It only said one word,” Varg replied. “Actually, it felt like it just repeated one word, Duril said.”
“What was the word?” Claw insisted, clearly more and more interested.
“Friend. That was what it said. Friend,” Varg offered, repeating the word, in the hope that he would hear the wind again and get confirmation that it hadn’t been only his imagination playing tricks on his ears.
It appeared that Claw wished for the same thing as he did and tensed, waiting for a sign. But the forest remained quiet, with all its hidden secrets tucked in for the night.
***
Toru sniffed, aware of a new scent, but wasn’t eager to open his eyes. He held Duril tightly in his arms and no one and nothing would convince him to give up on the pleasant feeling of staying curled all around his friend and lover.
Something tickled his nostrils and he barely kept in a sneeze. Carefully, he withdrew the arm he had stuck under Duril’s head and was thankful when the healer shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake up. He rubbed his nose to chase away that annoying sensation, and that was when he saw the culprit.
Right in front of his nose, a lightning bug was flapping its tiny wings, letting out a barely audible hum. Toru scrunched up his nose and then sniffed again. So the bug had tried to get into one of his nostrils and that had woken him up. But that scent, what was it? He inhaled the fresh night air, trying to figure out what the smell was.
Something like roasted walnuts was the first thing that came to his mind, followed quickly by an even more pleasant smell, like sandalwood. It didn’t seem to be good to eat, so Toru waved his hand to push away the lightning bug, determined to go back to sleep. He lay on one side and tried to sneak his arm back under Duril’s head, but something landed on his ear.
Forgetting about how he was supposed to be silent, he smacked his ear. Then he froze, but much to his surprise, Duril only stirred in his sleep without waking up. Toru got to his feet and looked around for the pesky bug. It had to be it that had crawled into his ear.
“Come and face me if you dare,” he growled under his breath. Duril would find it so funny that he wanted to fight a bug.
The lightning bug appeared again. Toru threw one hand out fast, intending only to move the air about. The tiny creature appeared to have plenty of life in it, and if Toru hadn’t managed to squash it when he had smacked his ear, it meant that it was fast, too.
For a moment, he thought that he had chased it away, but the following moment, the bug chose to land directly on the tip of his nose.
“Cut it out,” Toru moaned and brought both hands to his face.
The bug moved only a little and then climbed on his forehead, getting into his hair, and tickling him. Toru pushed his hands through his hair in an attempt to get rid of the bug. It looked like the small critter had other things planned because the next thing he knew, Toru felt it crawl down his back.
The bug flew out from under his shirt and landed back on his nose.
“Do you want to play?” Toru growled again and tried to smack the pesky thing.
He grunted, this time in pain, as his open palm smacked directly into his nose.
“Toru, what are you doing?” Duril called sleepily.
“Nothing,” Toru said quickly, embarrassed to have been surprised while trying to exact revenge on a lightning bug.
“You sounded like you were in pain.” The healer sounded like he was waking up completely.
“It’s nothing, nothing,” Toru hurried to say. “It was just…”
He looked around for any traces of the lightning bug, but while the night air was filled with the sounds of all kinds of critters, none of them nearby appeared to glow in the dark.
“Then come back to sleep,” Duril said, seeing how he didn’t add anything to finish his sentence.
Toru stared into the dark, searching for signs of the critter, but the lightning bug seemed satisfied with having managed to wake him up and now was anywhere else but there. He lay by Duril’s side and embraced him, but he perked up his ears, hoping for the tiniest sound.
***
Duril knew he was falling in love with The Quiet Woods and even faster than he had expected. Anything one could want was there, within reach. A hungry person only needed to stretch out a hand for one of the many low hanging fruits. It was summer, and maybe that explained why food was so plentiful, but somehow Duril couldn’t imagine the forest sleeping under a blanket of snow. Or maybe it was magical even in winter? He wished they could stay and see it like that, too.
He had gone on a morning run to collect herbs and, much to his surprise, Toru had decided to join him instead of running around with Claw and Varg.
“Are you sure you won’t get bored? All I’m doing is collecting herbs. There are so many here, and I’m not sure I should gather so much. I’ll probably need a new bag only for them.”
“I won’t get bored,” Toru said with conviction. “I just wanted to ask you, Duril. Do you think that this forest is, you know,” he dropped his voice to a low whisper, “alive?”
Alive, the wind echoed, and Duril stopped just as he was trying to pick the crown of a flower he knew worked wonders for colds and other ailments. “Did you hear that, Toru?”
The tigershifter was sitting upright, his entire body tensed. “It said,” he pronounced the words slowly, “alive.”
“It is alive,” Duril said, his surprise doubled by an overwhelming feeling of joy. “Yesterday, Varg thought he heard something, too, and now we both heard it.”
“Is it the forest? Is it trying to speak to us?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Maybe we should just ask it,” Toru suggested. “Forest,” he said, mustering, as it seemed, all the seriousness he was capable of, “are you trying to speak to us?”
Us, the wind whispered.
“Did you hear that?” Toru asked excitedly.
“Yes, quite clearly, but it doesn’t appear to be giving us any clues about what it wants from us. Maybe it’s not the forest, but the wind?” Duril wondered.
Wind? The mysterious voice mimicked, including the question mark at the end.
Toru frowned and crossed his arms over the chest. “It sounds like it just wants to play.”
Play, the response came right away.
“Like a child who learns from mimicking grownups,” Duril murmured.
“It sounds to me like a naughty creature,” Toru insisted.
They both waited for the forest or the wind to mimic Toru’s last word, but this time, nothing happened.
“Whatever secrets this forest holds, I think it will show them to us, at the right moment,” Duril offered when he noticed how miffed Toru looked. “We only need to be patient.”
“Yes, patient, not like the lightning bug that kept me awake last night,” Toru said.
“A lightning bug?” Duril felt laughter bubble in his chest as he remembered how he had woken up only to witness Toru fighting some invisible enemy. “Was that who you were fighting last night?”
“It’s surely a magical bug,” Toru said back, clearly embarrassed by having been caught at such childish play. “It hit my nose.”
“Hard enough to bleed?” Duril teased.
“No.”
“Then I’m not sure how magical it could be.”
“Say that as much as you like. Next time, it might be you who gets punched in the nose by a lightning bug. And then, I won’t believe you, either.”
Duril hugged Toru and kissed his cheek. “I tease you because I love you. Please, don’t get upset.”
That seemed to be enough to soothe any hurt pride. Toru smiled and kissed Duril on the lips. “Then you can tease me some more.”
***
“Are you still looking for signs of the old witch?” Varg asked as he noticed Claw crouched on the ground and staring at something that only he could see.
“I keep wondering,” Claw started. “Do you recall how I told you that the forest hasn’t changed at all, although I’ve been gone for centuries?”
“Yes, and I also recall myself telling you that your eyes might not be telling you the truth.”
“Well, I set out to find anything that could tell me more of the truth about what happened here.”
The way Claw said those words made Varg’s ears perk up in attention. “Do you believe something happened here? Something foul, perhaps?”
Claw stood. “I don’t know. It’s just too strange to find it all as if it hasn’t moved or changed for such a long time.”
“What were you looking at?” Varg asked, curious about what the bearshifter might have discovered.
“This place,” Claw said, “by nightfall, yesterday, was covered with dead leaves.”
“This place, right here?” Varg asked.
“Yes. Do you notice any dead leaves now?”
Varg shook his head. Then, he followed Claw’s eyes to the crown of trees above them. One leaf fell and landed on his head. Its touch felt familiar like the hand of an old friend. “Are you sure, Claw? Maybe you saw another tree shedding its leaves,” he said and picked the leaf out of his hair to look at it. “There are so many that look exactly the same.”
“I wish that were true. Then I’d know that I came back to the forest I knew as a child.”
“Don’t tell me you feel like it has become a stranger to you. If it helps any, I get a strange sense of familiarity, and I’ve never been here.”
“It’s the same welcoming forest, indeed,” Claw replied, “but I’m talking about its soul. I know that it might sound strange to you, but I feel like it’s holding back. Like it’s protecting itself.”
“Nothing you say could sound strange to me. Don’t forget what kind of adventurer you’re talking to,” Varg joked. “We’ve seen the strangest things.”
Claw nodded. “Then maybe we should get ready even for stranger ones.”
TBC