The Call of Nys #5 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

25 - J U D S O N

Shorewood.

It had once been a location no wider than seventy acres of partly inhabited land that, during the rainy season, saw storms and strong winds. Rarely did these days witness foggy mist that draped the sentient rocks stationed around the village by nature herself, evoking an imagery of snowy mountains in the wilderness.

Sometimes, the rain would beat down on every bit of loose rock to form clusters where artificial pools as wide as a well could nestle between, inviting birds of several kinds to bathe there. In the Harvest, sunlight stained the rock faces to a dark orange and trees yellow and maroon so that, from a distance, the environment looked like a real life painting, yet a tender wind could coax their fallen leaves and send them constantly flying about, as if a neverending nuptial was taking place everywhere.

The sunny season saw more people – foreigners and locals alike – because it was a season as warm as a newly lit fire and welcoming as a friendly smile. The sun did always not beat down so harshly, but it stayed high and bright even until the weather morphed into its first few hours of evening. And on such longer days, the skies would harbor the whitest clouds that complimented the brightest rainbows.

Very often, Judson would look up at the skies and think a million things at once, such as how he had become an expert physician and a proud farmer, and how he had trouble keeping up with the days the more they went by. Other things included his unusual and sudden dislike for cotton sugar, his inability to remember more than a few phrases in the Elvish tongue despite having worked so hard to learn it; constant daydreams that turned into blurry visions in the dead of night, and the fact that he preferred vegetables to meat.

In the village of Shorewood, he adapted to leading a life quieter than a deserted meadow. Not that he was complaining, the environment was all that anybody in his shoes could ask for.

Over time since he first arrived, the poor scanty settlement slowly morphed into a prosperous village rilling with peoples of all kinds. News of the strange growth of its populace even drew the attention of the realm's King a number of times.

Although he could not attribute the miraculous change to a reaction to his powers, Judson knew that to an extent, it was his stay that had transformed Shorewood into such a desirable place to live. And more often than he liked, this reality popped the burdening question – what would happen the day he left?

Apart from his decision to accept his current status as a countryman and local, some part of him – perhaps the old wanderer hidden deep within – still questioned what it would be like if he ventured out of Shorewood. He loved the idea of doing no more than two tasks for the whole day. All the same, he felt robbed.

There was a vital piece of his life still missing.

Shorewood, irregardless of how beautiful, lacked a few necessities to complete the near perfect lifestyle there. For example, a decent road to access the inner paths that led into the Outcast kingdom of Adwys. Bayrak's domain.

Another thing was water.

To obtain a drink, one had to walk a mile through unfavorable roads to a place of young ruins called Marr, where a clean streamlet flowed all the way from the northwestern regions. Sometimes, locals trekked in small groups to Marr, bringing with them kegs and large jars and water holders that could last weeks before needing a refill.

Because of his budding profession, Judson always needed water, but within the past few weeks, Ayariel had fallen ill and could not get it for him as usual. Though it stung to admit it to himself, he came to appreciate his life with her. They had been together a year and two seasons already in Shorewood, watching the civilization grow into what it had become. She stayed by his side quite gladly, helping him loosen his grip on the past in spite of how awfully difficult it was and how often it put a dent in their relationship.