To Rhial

17

Tells

Nothing like waking up stiff as a board. And not the morning wood kinda way. Not anymore, at least. The walk wasn't even bad, just long. Ugh, I'd love a wagon and one of those cute six legged things pulling it.

I woke up some time around dawn. The fire had burned down to embers that matched the distant sky out the window. I thought I was gonna sleep longer, but strangely, I wasn't tired anymore. Nobody else was up and I was bored, so I got up and started nosing around. Politely, of course.

The quiet pops from within the glowing embers, the metronomic creaking of the aged cabin, and the soft breathing of my friends became like the countdown to an inevitable alarm. Like a reminder that the world would be waking soon. This fleeting moment between slumber and stirring was mine alone to cherish.

I tiptoed to the desk below the wall of shelves decorated by bone carvings. All the bone statues and figurines were insanely detailed.

This guy can carve better than I can draw. Fuck, I gotta practice. He probably has shitloads of time being a hermit out in the woods, though.

I had been to some craftsmen who had made really cool wooden carvings before, but even those didn't have the kind of detail that these had. I leaned toward one on the workbench which had grown yellow with age. The carved creature looked like Geren, but it had more feathers, a heftier form, and a long, sharp beak. The nostrils on the beak were tiny perfect circles, and every feather was individually designed. Covering the creature's torso was something like a toga, which looked soft and silky even though it was carved into smooth bone. Even for how foreign the creature looked to me, I could tell by its expression that it was pleasant. Its rigid beak was slightly open and its eyes seemed like they were glowing with joy.

For some reason it sparked a feeling of nostalgia in me, followed by a brief wave of melancholy. Whoever this statue was, was somebody he cared about. I went to pick it up and look further, but I noticed a piece of paper next to it and it dawned on me that I was definitely snooping on this guy's personal creations. I cringed at myself and pulled my hand away, glancing over my shoulder. I hadn't heard anything, but there Geren was in the door, rubbing his eye and peering at me. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but a slight smile had formed across his splitting chapped lips. Those cloudy marbles weren't on me, though, they were on the figurine.

"You may hold if you like." Geren's voice creaked almost silently as he quietly knuckled his way to me.

I cautiously picked up the figurine and closely inspected the details in the feathers, the way they swirled and layered like waves on water. "Did you carve this?"

"Who else would?" He quietly chuckled. "People we love are... bound to mortality... but memory... makes one immortal." He reached out for the figure and I obliged. Holding it close to his eyes, he silently reminisced, then lowered it to its shelf and turned back to me. "What would you do... for people you love? For kin? Fight? Kill? Die?" He waited for me to answer.

"I don't know. Probably all of that." I struggled to maintain eye contact with his piercing gaze.

"You want to travel. Capture fireblood. More?" He looked at me again and I nodded, a little confused at the question. "I see youth. Inexperienced. You say you will die... you will kill for them? Maybe. But do you love them? As kin? As comrades?"

I nodded again, unsure where this was going. His eyes turned toward the figure and a longing look filled his eyes.

"Could you hate them? What would cause your hate?"

"I- I don't think there's anything bad they would do that would make me..." I trailed off, getting lost in thought.

There's no reason I wouldn't support my friends. Nothing reasonable that I could conceive of would ever outweigh how much I care about them. They wouldn't do bad things without a good reason, and even if they did, I'd be able to help them. I know it.