And The Forest Whispers

8

Shion leaned forward, peering out the glass window of his cabin, the wood warm and smooth beneath his bare palms. He watched with numb exhaustion as the last of the winter hunting party trudged back toward Kronos. Their lowered heads and guttering torches let Shion know they were without a sizable kill, and the winter winds had forced them to retreat back to the security of the village.

          He exhaled with relief as Yoming disappeared over the snow bank and hurried down the road. A few dead snow rabbits hung in their snares, but nothing that warranted a celebration. Shion didn't mind the winter months, as it meant the villagers wouldn't come asking for handouts from his garden.

          They might have suspected that Shion's crops thrived even in the frozen winds, but without an understanding of magic, they wouldn't be able to feel the energy thrumming in the stalks.

          Shion exhaled, hard, his breath puffing against the glass. He watched the fog spread across it, and then it vanished just as quickly as it arrived. Sometimes, if he were in a brighter mood, Shion would have traced magic symbols in the fog. Nothing too special—a rune of warmth or a guard against breaking—but he found himself in too foul a mood to consider using magic today.

          It'd been a few nights since Nezumi breezed into his life, bleeding from an injury delivered by the Lady of the Forest. Shion could still feel the pressure of Nezumi's hips pinning his thighs to the mattress, the comfortable warmth radiating from his sleeping body. His breath has tickled Shion's throat as he dozed, and eventually it'd been comfortable enough for Shion to fall into a peaceful sleep.

          It isn't as though I expected him to stay forever...

          But Shion hadn't anticipated Nezumi vanishing overnight. Waking without him sprawled on top of him had been one of the worst mornings Shion had endured. For a moment, he thought something terrible might have happened to Nezumi in the night. He scoured the cabin for any signs of blood—evidence that Nezumi's stitches had come undone—but he'd found nothing in the floorboards.

          He'd looked out at the snowy expanse of his yard, but he also didn't see any blood on the snow. He used his magic to feel for any remnants of energy Nezumi might have left behind, but there was none.

          Though Nezumi's absence stung, Shion felt relieved that Nezumi's wounds hadn't been fatal. He'd washed it, cleansed the wound as best he could, and stitched it tight enough that there wasn't any chance of it popping open. If it hadn't been damaged by Nezumi yanking him forward and pinning Shion beneath him, than nothing less than a sharpened blade would damage the stitching.

          Shion closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed lids. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He knew what he feared—the thought of his secrets being uncovered and punished by the villagers in Kronos—but he also worried about what might become of him if Nezumi vanished and never made his presence known again.

          Nezumi was a tie to magic that Shion had never anticipated he would desire. More than that, Nezumi was a companion who Shion didn't have to hide his truth from. He'd only known Nezumi for a brief while, but already Shion knew a part of his soul wouldn't return to him if Nezumi stayed away.

          Stupid. Shion clapped his hands against his cheeks and opened his eyes. The world beyond his window was clean and cold, the snow having settled across the ground so thick that if Shion were to trudge through it, it would rise to his knees.

          The next morning, Shion would need to venture out to Kronos to attend church services. The severe weather a few days ago might have been enough to prevent the services from taking place—the priest permitted folks to stay indoors when conditions were unsafe for worship, though he expected prayer and repetition of the Scriptures to take place within the home.

          He drew away from the window and closed the curtain, shutting out the evening air. If he intended to trudge through the snow in the morning, he'd need to work on water-proofing his boots and trousers.

          There were plenty of oils and techniques used by seamstresses to make clothing impervious to melting snow that Shion didn't worry about using magic on the heels of his boots to prevent himself from absorbing the water. He'd trace a few runes on the heels to prevent himself from skidding on slates of ice burrowed deep beneath the powder, but beyond that, Shion's usage of magic would be minimal.

          He sat on the edge of his cot and yanked his boots into his lap. He supposed he would need to work some charms onto his cloak. He tried to remember the way Nezumi's cloak had flaunted the runes inside them, keeping him warm and silent as he glided through the forest like a wraith.

          Knock it off. Shion shook the thoughts away. Remembering Nezumi would just make him miserable.

          He quickly went to work tracing his finger over the soles of his boots, pulling energy from the flowers speckled around his cabin and planting them on the leather. He worked diligently, letting his thoughts cement themselves on the task at hand to avoid them wandering back to the silver-eyed boy who'd graced his cabin a few nights prior.

          He understood that there was a strong probability Nezumi would stay away from his cabin from now on. He had no real reason to venture out to it in the first place. The only reason he had at all was to discover the source of the magical energy he'd felt radiating from the cabin. Now that he had the answers he sought, there was no need for him to bother himself with Shion any further.

          The second time they'd crossed paths had been the doing of the Lady of the Forest. Wishing to teach Nezumi a mere lesson and not allow him to bleed out in the heart of the forests, she'd guided him to Shion's cabin and roused Shion from a peaceful slumber to offer him some assistance. Shion had stitched Nezumi's arm, but now that his task had been completely, Nezumi had no business with him.

          Shion supposed one could argue that Nezumi owed him a debt now, but Shion had never been one for expecting favors.

          He hadn't saved Nezumi in order to bind the Mao to him.

          He'd done it because it was the right thing to do. If he'd seen Nezumi struggling out in the snow, suffering from a horrible wound that would have killed him if it'd been left untreated, Shion would be no better than the monsters who sought his demise on the accusation that he was a witch.

          Shion busied himself until late in the evening with preparing his clothes for the trip tomorrow. He set his boots beside the door, placed his cloak on the hook, and let the glowing baubles to dim until there was hardly any light illuminating the inside of his cabin.

          If he wanted to get an early start and head to the church—as arriving late would make the villagers suspicious of him—he would need to get into bed and fall asleep sooner rather than later.

          Shion sent a soft "good night" to the beehives nestled in the corners. That morning, the bees had buzzed around him, landing on his shoulders and crawling across the fabric of his tunic. Now that Shion understood they were messengers to the Lady of the Forest, he'd treated them as if they were honored guests. He'd smiled at them and greeted each of them, as he often did, but this time he avoided pulling energy from the flowers closest to their hives.

          He sank down on the edge of the cot. Shion hadn't shared his bed with anyone aside from his mother, and even that had been years ago when he was a child living overseas in her bakery.

          Now that Nezumi had slept beside him, Shion felt strange laying back on the cot without a companion. Logically, it made no sense. Nezumi had only shared a bed with him for a single night. Something like that shouldn't have been enough for Shion to feel lonely laying in the darkness by himself. He'd spent several years in this cabin without a human companion.

          He wasn't lonely.

          But as he stretched out on the mattress, too tired to use his magic to warm the fabric stretched out beneath him, Shion realized he was lying to himself.