The Call of the Darkwood

Rebe

Rebe began her long journey at Gran's Greenhouses. She walked Dasher rather than rode him, knowing he would soon get more than enough good work in, and she wanted to preserve his energy. Gran provided her with more food and supplies than she could possibly need on her journey, unless she was greatly detained. She had stayed firm on her prior election not to tell Sato, Daniel, or all else. 

She had instead told all that she was staying with Gran for the next week. Sato had quickly insisted that he would come visit them. She had to tell him that she needed to focus on her training and couldn't do with any distractions. He had seemed greatly deflated at that, but had not persisted. She had no time to feel sorry for him. She had bigger problems.

It reminded her of telling her father that she had gotten a summer job and wouldn't be around much this summer. He had been nonplused. He was always nonplused in her presence. 

Rebe said her farewells to Gran, after a round of bites and tea, of course. Even Dasher got a treat, some sort of horseflies. They were massive, easily three times the size of any she'd seen. Dasher chomped them down greedily. They popped in his mouth. Disgusting. And then they were off. 

It was just Dasher, Rebe, and the open Chaff Sea. She rode hard and fast, not wanting to waste a moment. She only had a week to get back before Gran sent a patrol after her. That patrol would undoubtedly contain a very angry Sato. She wanted to avoid that if she could. Still, this wasn't about him, and she needed to remember that. She was doing this for her. 

She needed no map. She could feel the Darkwood's presence dead ahead like the northward needle of a compass. It was impossible for her to get lost. She wasn't so certain the return journey would be so forgiving. That gave her pause, but only mentally.

She soon realized that she could give commands to Dasher without moving her mouth. It was a strange feeling. Sam had mentioned something about it once at dinner. How some people, like Sam herself, had an innate bond with the beasts. It almost felt like she could feel his emotions and vice versa, as odd as the thought sounded. Only simple feelings like fear, joy, and anger. Not complicated human emotions like regret or greed, or envy. Still, she felt much closer to him, knowing how he felt. He seemed happy to be dashing. None of these beasts had particularly clever names, but at least they were accurate.

Rebe could feel the Chaff and the roots, and the ecosystems both above and below the soil. She felt the presence of giants below. Serpent maybe? They were big but also slow. There were thousands within her range of detection. She seemed to only be able to feel things within a certain radius of her. She wasn't sure exactly where it stopped, but it was much more effective the closer she was. She could feel things directly underfoot, like she was touching them physically and also mentally. At range, it was more like shadows or echoes. Quiet and vague. She was still trying to get a handle on how all this stuff worked.

Rebe followed the trails as far as she could, but eventually they grew sparser and unblazed. The grains grew into them, and they kept ending dead into the Sea. She had to ride Dasher into the reeds to continue on route. This had the foreseeable consequence of obscuring both her and her mounts' views entirely. She had to rely on her sixth sense, and her beast on her, to avoid obstacles and animals ahead. Many such beasts felt quite large. Her mind turned to all the things Bruno had said lived in these grains. She had no care to meet them.

Rebe, despite herself, could help but feel alive and free. As if her whole life, something had been missing. The sun that kissed her skin filled her with energy and strength in a way it never had before. She used to hate bright, warm sunny days. Now she couldn't get enough of the sun's warm embrace. She used to hate tall, wet, wild grass. Now she was beginning to think that she had simply never understood it before. It was a strange thing to think. But then again, was it? The grass was alive. Everything she felt was alive. When she stopped feeling something within her range, she knew what that meant as well. She avoided the source of those feelings most of all.

She silently ordered Dasher to stop at dawn to set up camp. Sam had taught her that she needn't tie down the komodon. In all likelihood, it would nuzzle up against her for warmth during the night. It wasn't running off anywhere at dark. She took the dagger out of the leather belt that hung about her hip and cropped a small clearing. She saved the grains in her pack, wanting not to waste. She shook out her bedroll and set a small fire with the flint and steel provided in her pack. As expected, Dasher wrapped around the fire closely, clearly unafraid of its embers. He looked like a cat curled in a circle around the hearth of a fire. Rebe rested on his scaleless belly, which was cool to the touch. She brought out his feed, which appeared to be crickets or hoppers. Then she went for her supper. Barley bread, butter, and some sort of jam. It was a favorite of hers, but what she wanted more than anything was some fried chicken. Seemed like chickens weren't so common in Kelton.

Rebe cut the loaf of bread with the knife and felt the cold steel against the barley buds baked in the bread. After she ate, she inspected the knife and found it felt... odd. She could feel the different composite metals in the steel. It was like they sang to her, sort of. She felt as though she could speak to the inanimate item much in the same way she could with Dasher or the Darkwood. She felt a strong and unexpected compulsion to toss the knife up in the air. Against her better judgment, she did so. It launched up, well beyond the chaff ceiling, and came racing down at her hilt first. She caught it effortlessly. She clearly had no idea what these new... gifts of hers were. All she knew was that she knew nothing. She repeated the trick a few more times before deciding that she should rest for real. Dasher was already softly snoring. It was comforting, in a way.

Rebe leaned back and looked up, and saw the most brilliant sky of stars she had ever seen. The brightness and quality were unparalleled. But neither of those things was what made it so brilliant. It defied description. She scratched Dasher's chin, who gave out a sleepy sigh. She fell asleep surrounded by her bedroll, Dasher, buried below the vast Chaff Sea. She felt truly warm.

Rebe awoke before the sun and quickly packed her camp. She had a breakfast of bread, butter, and jam, destroyed the fire, and fiddled with her knife some more. She knew no more than the night before. She sat and waited for Dasher to rise with the dawn. He did. He nuzzled her in greeting. They were growing closer. 

Rebe had never had a pet before. Her father forbade them. "Vectors of disease," he called them. She had wanted a rabbit as a girl. Maybe she still did. But she had Dasher, and she was more than happy with that. 

Rebe rode for another hour before she felt it drawing near. Had she not spoken to Sam and borrowed Dasher, she would still be a two-day walk out. Instead, she could actually see it now, off in the distance. The Darkwood. This near it was blinding her sixth sense of other entities, and that made her nervous.

Rebe finally thought about just how reckless and stupid this all was. This place was pure wild. She felt great amounts of life and great amounts of life extinguishing within the woods. What was she doing here? Did she have a death wish? She looked to Dasher for reassurance but blank reptilian eyes were all that looked back at her. She was in this alone. 

She took a deep breath, applied her war paint, and rode on. The closer she got, the more blind she grew. She had come to rely on his new sense more than she realized. She didn't know how to feel about that.

She approached the edge of the wood and dismounted Dasher. He was calm. She took him by the reins and led him to the edge. It was like a blackhole. No light escaped the wood. Outside, it was day, and within, night. The trees were so thick that she could only find one point of entry, which she could lead Dasher down. She felt for her dagger. It was her courage. Her courage was with her. 

She pushed past the light and into the Darkwood.