The Winds of the Past [Rune Factory 4]

Chapter 52

The next morning, as soon as we’d cleared up from breakfast, Avani kissed me farewell. Then she incanted Escape, and in a flash of light, she was gone. I sat and stared at the empty place where she’d stood only moments before, finally rising with a sigh some time later. I found that fishing had lost all its appeal after her departure, but not wanting to just sit around and mope all day, I called Fenrir to me.

Although Avani was the one who had tamed the fierce golden wolf, he had soon afterwards attached himself to me, especially during the time when she spiraled so near to madness after Venti’s death. Baldur had been jealous of his barn-mate before—his devotion, affection, and loyalty to his mistress ran deep—and he’d made every effort to ensure that Fenrir knew his place. But when Fenrir turned his attention to me rather than Avani, Baldur finally relaxed his guard. Soon the two wolves were boon companions, to such an extent that they were virtually inseparable. Thus, when I called for Fenrir, both wolves appeared. I instructed Thor and Charmie to keep guard over the campsite, and mounting the gigantic wolf, I rode off towards the mountains. I decided that, to help pass the time until Avani returned, I’d search the subalpine woods in the hopes that perhaps a stray bloom or two might be found.

The trees at that altitude had very little in the way of undergrowth, which made searching for any sign of the brilliant purple flowers slightly easier. I was searching on and around a massive nurse log when from behind me I heard Fenrir give a low, warning growl, quickly joined by Baldur. I spun around, and saw a man not far from where I crouched. Standing stock still with his back pressed against a large tree, he stared wide-eyed at the wolves, who placed themselves between us, hackles raised and ears flattened as they snarled. I walked over to stand between the two wolves, calling to him, “Who are you, and what is your business here?”

His eyes grew even larger as he gaped at me—no doubt startled by my vulpine features. Pressing further back against the tree trunk, he stammered in a raspy, thickly-accented voice, “A-are you a-a god? A wolf-god?”

I stared at him for a moment, then laughed heartily. “No, stranger, I am a man, neither more nor less.” I looked him over as he slowly relaxed, still eyeing the wolves nervously, though they had quieted at my touch. His was the face of an elderly man—leathery and wrinkled with age and exposure. His hair and eyes were pale grey-green, the color of the lichen clinging to the trees of the forest, and he wore simple but slightly tattered clothing. His skin was tanned to a deep golden brown, and he carried a gnarled walking stick and a battered rucksack. From a leather belt about his waist hung a variety of small pouches.

“Green hair again? I had believed it was an uncommon shade, but I must have been mistaken. I thought these lands were unpopulated—are you from these parts?”

“You… you thought green hair was unusual?” he said incredulously, looking up at my ears and then down at my tail.

I gave him a wry smile. “Touché. Tell me, are there others in the area? Or are you just passing through?”

“I am the servant of my people’s healer. He has sent me to scour the wildlands for herbs for his medicines, as he is running low on certain plants that are not so readily available closer to our home. My tribe does not live near these mountains, but several days’ journey to the south and east of here.”

My ears pricked up at that. “Herbs, eh? Tell me, I’ve been searching for a particular plant that I hear can be found on these mountains, near the peaks. It’s a low-growing plant with spikes of small, deep purple blooms, and it has some medicinal value. Do you know of it, and if so, where might I find it so late in the summer?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “I believe you speak of the flower we call adri dala—cloudwort in your language. It has some medicinal properties, I believe, but we only rarely use it ourselves. However, I have seen it growing in the mountain meadows here, though never this late in the year.”