Cloverfield Magic

Chapter 17 - We'll Meet Again

A human just moved into the tree hollow right above its burrow. It wasn't worried. No one saw it unless it wanted to be seen. The human made a lot of noise, though. Maybe the human wasn't scared of being seen? Most big animals didn't seem to care. The noise wasn't pleasant, though. The human sounded like it was in pain. Like it was dying. It huffed. Dying right outside of someone's burrow? Rude. Scavengers would come and make a mess of the grass.

Having decided to help the pitiful creature, it leaves the burrow and molds its form into something that it has found to be more amenable to humans over time. The human had quieted a while ago, and its sensitive nose twitched at the offensive smells of open wounds and disease.

The human looked badly burned. Some of the other forest animals had been similarly hurt before when wildfires ravaged the land.

It made a quick trip through the forest and gathered some herbs and fresh water to quicken the healing.

Upon returning to the human, It cleansed the human's wounds of rot and applied the herb poultice to the worst wounds. Barely touching the un-burnt skin on the human's face, its closed its eyes and drew steady, meditative breaths to focus its mind, drawing tiny droplets of energy from the living earth around them and into a stream that flowed through its body and into the human.

The fading heartbeat beneath their fingertips grew stronger and louder, and it almost gets lost in the rhythm until a gasp broke their concentration.

"Where am I? Who are you?" the human asks.

"You're in the Woodlands. I'm one of its residents," it answers. Now that the human's eyes were open, they realized that its eyes were a bright blue. The color of the sky.

The human calls itself - herself, it learned - Circe. The human seemed incredibly insistent that it also has an identifying sound to call a name.

"You can pick a name for me," it - no, she - offered. After all, what did she know about human customs?

This seemed to excite Circe, who thought deeply about her new name for nearly half a moon cycle. Circe's deduction was touching, and she found herself growing protective over her little human.

Slowly, Circe began to regain her strength and eventually joined her in tending to the forest. Circe watched in amazement as she coaxed young saplings into tall trees and nursed sick plants back to health. One day after the two of them finished up their evening meal and settled into the hollowed tree for the night, Circe finally made up her mind.

"Artemis," Circe finally decides. "After the goddess of wild animals, the wilderness, and the hunt."

In the light of their small campfire, Artemis accepted the name with a smile and leaned in to give Circe a gentle head butt of affection.

Just like that, Circe and Artemis settled into a routine. In the mornings, they would explore and tend to the forest. In the evenings, they would sing, dance, and Circe would tell stories that she read from her books. Circe made Artemis dresses, and Artemis gifted Circe with journals fastened from birch bark and tree sap that Circe would fill with sketches, observations, and new experimental spells. 

Circe taught her everything she knew about magic, and Artemis shared what she knew in turn. Circe was talented at knitting places together through doors and creating space where there previously was none. With Artemis's help, Circe was even able to make them a whole new forest, just for the two of them where they could live out their days free of dangerous predators and witch hunters.

It was routine, but it was a routine that made Artemis happier than ever before. Every night, she fell asleep next to her companion in high spirits, eager to see what the new day would bring.