And The Forest Whispers

1

Watching the tiny red birds lifting into flight from the tree branches just outside his window, Shion knew the hunters were passing by his cabin.

            He hurried away from the windows and waited for them to pass by. Shion never joined the town's hunting parties—lack of experience and a general lack of interest governed his decision to abstain—and he didn't feel like dealing with their aggravated sneers as they stalked through the woods past his property line.

            Hidden inside his home, Shion could spot them through the thin curtains, though he knew they couldn't spot him. The flames of their torched rippled through the air as they stalked through the thick oak trunks, weapons in hand.

            Shion clicked his tongue. Most of the townsfolk treated hunting as little more than sport. Though the meat was used and sold, the hunters often took more than their fair share. The forests provided them with enough food to be satisfied even in the harshest of winters, but the men and women of Kronos took without any consideration.

            When at last the gray-cloaked hunters passed by his cabin, paying his bountiful gardens and little assortment of crops and latticed fences no mind, Shion allowed himself to finally relax.

            His anxiety was not without reason. Shion was something of a legendary being in the town of Kronos—in the worst possible way. Whenever the hunters stalked by his home, Shion tensed, praying they wouldn't kick down his door again and drag him to the local church for another "witch test".

            With their departure into the woods, Shion no longer feared an assault. He wandered away from the windows and into the heart of the den. A gentle fire crackled under the copper pot where he'd mixed some fresh water from the nearby creek and a handful of herbs. Nothing went better with a pleasant autumn day than a hot cup of sage tea.

            Shion adored his cabin. Branches grew through the windows and roof—the wooden slats had been built carefully around them, and Shion tended to them as best he could to ensure the health of the tree. Small purple asters grew through the pale floorboards, kept alive through the winter months by Shion's gentle hands.

            He'd decorated the wooden walls of his single-room cabin with pretty shells he'd gathered from the pale beaches, colorful feathers from birds who'd nested in the branches comprising the majority of his cabin's roof, and pretty swatches of tapestries his mother had shipped him from overseas that Safu's talented grandmother had woven for him.

            Shion's home was unlike any other building in the town of Kronos. Shion had situated his cabin far away from the others—it took a considerable length of time to walk from his front door to the church, built directly in the middle of Kronos. He didn't know if he could even consider his cabin to be part of Kronos at all; there were sections of forest surrounding both sides of the dirt road leading to the town, and Shion's house was surrounded on all four sides by thick trees and bushes.

            Even if it was the topic of local rumors among the townsfolk, Shion loved his way of life. The only major downside was that he was often blamed for some of the raids and misfortunes that befell Kronos. When a particularly bad rainstorm scattered debris from the forest into the crop fields, ruining much of the tomatoes and carrot plants, the farmers accused Shion of having collaborated with sinister spirits—despite the fact that he offered them unlimited access to his own backyard crops for sustenance. Only a trial in which Shion recited the Scriptures flawlessly had absolved him of blame; the widows housed in the corner of Kronos slammed their doors as he walked by, however, and the men muttered curses under their breath as he hurried home.

            But despite the accusations and rumors, Shion had passed all their tests. He could repeat their prayers with ease. He attended church every seventh day, as did every other able-bodied townsman. Shion didn't balk at sprinkles of holy water or shift uncomfortably within the church walls.