And The Forest Whispers

14

The forests were comfortably quiet. No strange melodies from winter songbirds trilled through the windows of the Mao Elder's cabin, pulling at Shion's mind, and lulling him into a state of peace. He'd been feeling this way since Nezumi led him through the village streets and to the hut tucked in the far corner of the town that served as the Elder's work quarters.

          The Elder's cabin smelled of loam and wet earth and the floral scents of eternal spring. It made Shion nostalgic for his own cabin, the home he'd built from scratch—the home Nezumi had steadily pulled apart, piece by piece, and transported through the woods with the help of a green witch named Tana whose soft magic preserved Shion's plants until they could be replanted in the soil. Branches from silver trees hung over the little garden in the back of the Elder's hut, leaves scraping the sides of the hut and bristling in the wind.

          A squirrel with russet fur tumbled in the grass beyond the open door; the Elder insisted on letting the cool, end-of-winter wind chase the heat out of his hut. Despite the cold, Shion felt oddly comfortable, the thin cloak he'd been given effectively warming him.

          Nezumi had brought Shion to the Elder's cabin and then left him with a whispered promise that he would return before the sun went down. Having slept late into the morning, Shion suspected that Nezumi had other business in the village to focus his attention on. If what Nezumi had told him was true, he'd spent much of his time tending to Shion when he worked the belladonna poison out of his system. It made Shion's heart flutter to realize that Nezumi had stayed by his side for days, mopping sweat from his brow and soothing him when a feverish nightmare gripped his thoughts.

          "It's a wonder to meet you," the Elder had said once Nezumi bid Shion farewell for the day. His low, crackling voice reminded Shion of the judgmental priest overseeing Kronos, but the kindness in his tone melted those concerns. "It's been so long since I've seen a witch with your potential."

          The Mao village generated witches. The Elder had explained that to him, quickly laying out the ways in which magic permeated the air surrounding the Mao village, bleeding into the forests itself and seeping into the soil like water. Crops grew strong enough to survive even the coldest winters. Animals that thrived in the Mao forest were far more intelligent than those who had not, able to conceal themselves from outsiders. Shion wondered if these animals were the ones the hunters in Kronos sought; if so, it would certainly explain their lack of success in their hunts.

          Shion glanced up at the ceiling of the Elder's cabin. Vines and branches crosshatched the rafters in a way that made his heart ache for his own cabin back in Kronos. He didn't miss the village. He didn't miss the leers of the terrified villagers, the hatred and distrust in Yoming's face, but he did miss the cabin he'd spent years piecing together. The hours he'd spent using his magic to invite the plants inside, the exhausting weeks he'd spent planting the seeds and infusing them with his magic until he was too weak to pull himself from the bed. Nezumi might have been able to relocate his plants and belongings to the Mao village, finding places in his own home for them, but even so, Shion couldn't deny that it made him a bit sad to know he'd never see his cabin again.

          "I am glad you survived long enough to make it to us," the Elder went on. He hadn't spoken for a while, sitting across from Shion from his perch on the floor.

          When Shion had first entered the cabin, the first thing he'd noticed was that the Elder sat cross-legged on the floor, propped up by a cushion. The second was the assortment of bird bones, feathers, and sharpened stones woven in his unruly silver hair. And third, once Shion crouched down on the floor in front of him, was that the Elder's legs were missing from the knees down.