Chapter 1:
Druidic Oaths
Twack
Alexander, Mark, Luke.
Twack
Maria, Edward, Eloise.
Twack
Manny, Mom, Dad.
Twack
“I will have to visit the stone today.” I spoke those words aloud, slightly breathless after cutting the wood for the winter, my mind heavy and in need of remembrance, in need of relief.
It was the anniversary, after all.
I looked around, autumn having coloured the leaves of the small forest, the red and yellow and orange now predominant.
The farmers of the hamlet were at work, I had already aided them with spirits and rituals, and I could go there myself to add.
But today, I didn’t feel like it.
The birds were still chirping around with sounds of concern and weariness and their own preparation of the winter when I put the wood in storage, to dry for this winter, alongside with potatoes and onions and corn.
The old men had said it would be a short one, and I hoped that it was.
The first one I was here I almost died of hunger, saved only by the pity of men and animals and spirits, who had brought their own nuts, and berries, and had made, with a lot of energy and magic on their part, small plants grow and bear fruit.
In exchange I had made sure to repair their dens, and to build nests for the birds, to kill rabid wolves and foxes, and to give some sacrifices of wood and bones to the spirits.
I had asked if they wanted something more, but they had refused at the time, maybe seeing my own situation and pitying me.
It was not a good feeling, but I made sure that I would help them whenever needed.
And the thought of that first, horrible, year, was still better than that weary feeling, crushing me, making me sluggish, and making me want to just curl up and close my eyes and not move and just lie there.
A squirrel jumped on my shoulder, while I was standing there, its weight somewhat reassuring while its claws were somewhat annoying, and squeaked in my ear, concerned: “Oi one-who-speak, you alright? You have been standing there for long, and there is a whole lot to do for winter, ya know?”
I grunted at that, and faked a stretch, despite not feeling that tired or pained, and I smiled despite how I felt, and asked, trying to mask my behaviour to the gossipers that were these animals: “How is your mama going, Nut? Is she still going about how you still haven’t found a mate this spring?”
“Oi.”
“Didn’t you say that, last winter, you would have your very own kits?” I continued, smiling despite starting to feel his bites against the lobe of my ear, small and annoying, but amusing.
“Oi!”
“How did you call it? “I will make my very own Harem, believe it!”, or was it something else?” I chortled aloud at that, my spirit back to something less grey and heavy, my cloud gone for that moment.
Nut jumped off my shoulder, a shrill sound of violence coming out of his mouth, and then, after running in front of me, he got on his back paws and squared off, his front paws moving like he was a boxer:
“Oh, you wanna fight bro? Come at me, come at me I say! You may be a hundred times heavier but I will kick your ass all the same!”
I laughed this time and I moved my hand to the leather bag.
I had made it with the old grandmas in the hamlet, out of an old buck who had asked to die well after a bad bone break.
I had cried then.
It took Mama Nut, three Sylphies and a lot of tears for me to do that. I made sure to not leave anything unused, as nature dictated, and as he had asked.
I missed Horns Gramps.
“I think it may be a somewhat skewed fight, don’t you think?”
“Skewed in my favour! I am fast, I am the wind, and Mum has taught me how to fight! I will make you into food for fungi and drink for trees!”
There was silence, sudden silence.
The whole forest had quieted down.
We started circling each other, the wind picking up some leaves, while other crunched under paws and foot.
We did first one circle.
Some crows and finches landed on the branches and the roof of my warehouse.
Then we did a second circle.
Mama Nut got out of the nest, looked at us, sighed and went back to her hole.
We did three circles.
The forest held its breath.
Then, he launched, a war cry coming out of his mouth!
I could have easily punched him out.
The winds were even asking it, in my ears.
But I just let him soar, towards my face, and then, with my fall softened by the winds.
It seems they wanted to give a freebie, I will have to give them a tad more.
But now, I had another duty, which was, let nut win.
A savage shrill cry came from the red squirrel, which I would even call brutal if it hadn’t been so amusing in its absurdity.
He started to jump on my face with his back paws, crying out: “I won, I won! Now it’s time for payback, you big lug!”
“All right, all right! I have some hazelnuts in my bag, take ten of them, oh great conqueror!” I said in faux submission, even rising my hands so to continue this pantomime.
“Okay! Stay still, I will take them out!” And then, with his small paws, he started moving towards my left side, making me almost laugh at laud at the tickling sensation caused by those small paws scampering over my torso.
There was a sound of jubilation from the squirrel, who then started to put those hazelnuts inside his cheeks.
I knew that because I heard the sound of the saliva and grunts, and of him almost throwing up inside my bag!
“Oi! Stop stuffing your face if you can’t take it! Moderation, moderation!”
The rustling stopped, and then there was the sound of something wet falling inside the bag.
Disgusting.
Then Nut, with agility and stuffed cheeks, ran up the tree where Mama Nut had her nest.
I saw her, and she was regarding me.
She said something, I saw it, and it normally would be too far to hear, but the winds picked it up.
“It was not necessary, boy. But thank you.”
I nodded at her, and got up.
I had a lighter heart, now.
But still, that day, three years ago, was almost like this one.
The day I came upon this land, alone, leaving behind all that I knew.
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