The Whispers Of Trees

6. Godly Hallucinations

Orym couldn't sleep that night, his mind wouldn't silence and kept replaying Alimar's words over and over, his prayer echoed through his skull, the words losing all value and sense to him.

With that and the constant escape plans plotting away, there was no hope for him to fall completely asleep.

The incessant dripping had lulled him into a state of dreaming but his eyes remained open, and his consciousness somewhat alive but forgotten about.

The morning would see their departure from Ulme, the sooner the better if Orym could help it, he didn't want to risk any more time where word could spread or Achillia could meet with Parsin, who were good friends as far as he was concerned.

If she shared such precious information with him then everything would become much more complicated and it would undoubtedly jeopardise their lives as fugitives of their village.

But he couldn't help but worry more for Alea more so than himself, when the thoughts of her alone in a cell- especially the ones in the Cambium that hadn't seen a refurbishment of any kind since the day the crevice was created.

The thoughts of her reminded him of the bag she had instructed him to take, it also brought him to the realisation that he hadn't even looked to see what was packed inside. It wasn't necessarily heavy, but the fact she had it packed as if ready to flee, was alarming to him. Nevertheless, he lifted the bag onto his lap and unclipped the button.

Orym wasn't entirely sure what it was he was looking at, picking out vials of crushed and ground herbs sealed with wax, bundles of sage, amulets, trinkets, and a variety of pouches.

The atmosphere became more unsettling as his mind clouded with fears and anxieties until the material door parted and Parson's head popped in through the gap, it startled Orym to the point he nearly fell from his rickety bed, Alimar being none the wiser of what was going on as he soundlessly slept like an infant. He packed things back into the bag hoping Parsin saw none of what he had, with the stigma of magic and the Tulsi being rife, especially being so close to Birchwood.

Slipping on his sopping shoes, he trudged across the tent to the man, probably having better luck doing so barefoot if he had thought it over. He had almost lost his shoe once that night on his way to their shelter, thanks to the greedy mud that tried to swallow them whole.

"Are you alright?" Orym asked in a hushed voice, stepping outside into the drizzle to face Parsin.

"Indeed, I simply fancy a Nightly walk and some company," he said, beginning to head down the path toward the treeline at an uncomfortable angle.

"It's a bit of a drab night for a walk don't you think?"

"Not at all," Parsin said simply, the ambiance surprisingly calm as the night sky slowly cleared, the clouds drifting away to the East.

Orym kept quiet and followed Parsin and his walking stick further and further into the forest, the trees, bushes, and grass all silhouetted.

"Does your village share the same customs as us?" Parsin spoke up, his feet halting as they reached a grove of trees.

"It depends on what custom it is that you're asking about"

"We here in Ulme remain in our families. Each individual that joins their souls in their tree vessels, resides in separated groves with their other family members"

"You are close friends with Achillia aren't you? Surely you would know our customs" he noted, admiring the grove of trees looming before him and blocking out the moon's silver glow that had finally peaked out from behind the clouds.

Readjusting his cane, Parsin let out a short grunt "This grove, this is my family. My mother, my father, my older brother, and sister all sleep here, and this tree here, this is mine" he mentioned pointing to the tree towards the front. It stood shorter than all, bent much like Parsin's body, and displayed a twisting trunk making Orym wonder what it meant. "I take it you are to bond with your tree soon?" Parsin continued on to ask which caught Orym off-guard.