A crisp crackle of wood in the hearth fireplace permeated the hut. Achre awoke from his deep sleep, his temporary cot as cozy as any he had slept. With a hefty yawn, Achre stretched out and began to rub the sleep from his eyes.
"Good morning Achre!" Odessa called out with her usual soft tone. She donned common farming garb, stains beneath her apron. "Come here, I've returned with some barley and oat - a touch of hamhock too!"
As Achre rose to his feet, he smelled the deep roast of pork on the griddle. A healthy pot of oatmeal sat on a metal rack, to the edge of the hearth's stone surface.
"What are you making?" Achre inquired, a sweet smile on his lips. He stood just beside Odessa, his lower arms crossed.
"This here is my very own, very tasty, barley loaf!" Odessa replied, her hands whizzing across the sturdy oak table. From the momentary dips into the near water bowl, to the practiced kneading of the dough, to even the placement of her feet along the tableside; Achre could recognize the obvious time and effort she must have put into her cooking.
A minute bud of appreciation began to grow within Achre's heart, Odessa reminded him of himself; of the love and devotion to one's own craft. It was a simple shift - his was war, hers was cooking.
Twenty minutes later and Odessa and Achre sat at the small, square dining table. Odessa held no hesitation and began to dig into her serving. At the same time, Achre pulled out his cross, his hands in prayer. This was the first meal Achre had ever consumed since his death. When he resided under the watch of Gol, he never once hungered or thirsted. A point of much curiosity to him.
Even in this foreign world, the boy held true to his beliefs. As he prayed, Odessa looked at the four armed boy, confusion plastered across her face.
"What are you doing? I've never seen such a tradition." Odessa inquired. Achre replied only in silence, as ten more seconds passed. "Achre? Is everything alright?"
Two seconds later and Achre opened his eyes, explanation on his lips. "That was my faith - my tradition if you suppose."
A curious brow beckoned Odessa's face, "what faith might that be? I've never heard of some practice or custom like that." She posed, a dainty fashion about her as she ate.
Achre reached for his utensils as he replied. "It is... or was... my original conviction. The belief of my people." Odessa nodded, grateful the small boy was open to her prodding.
"Would you, I don't know, want to speak to me about it? You still haven't explained what happened to you on the trail, after all." Odessa remarked, her hand over her mouth as she chewed.
'Should I? I... no. That driver, and the ordeal with mother, are not things I should drag her into.'
"I've always lived a life alone." The boy started, "my parents died when I was young... younger."
Odessa moved to hold one of his many hands.
"The toll of life was not so easy on me." Achre continued, "it was desperation that left me on that trail..."
Odessa tenderly squeezed the boy's hand. She noticed his unique word choice, but more critically his manner of hesitation; both of which were a touch odd. Odessa looked into Achre's eyes, before she moved to his side and planted a sweet kiss atop his forehead.
"Thank you." Was all Odessa said, her figure moving to sit as she resumed breakfast.
As the clock ticked, the girl walked to open the door to the outside - the boy in tow. Their breakfast finished some time ago, as it concluded in thoughtful conversation. The promise of a short tour in quick order.
"Like I said prior, the forest we live is Quailoon. The forest lies deep to the south of any major populace, so much so, that we do not belong to any nation or faction." Odessa explained, her feet settling into her boots.
She opened the door to reveal a deep plunging waterfall, and a bridge squatted across it; just a short span from the opening. They stepped outside and stood atop the stubby bridge. It was only then, that Achre could truly drink in the view.
A sprawling emerald bed of boreal forest lay before him, shimmering and swaying in the cool breeze. Aside from the singular, lonely mountain that stood a beacon on the horizon, to the house's rear; the remainder of the skyline was green. Picturesque playful clouds dotted the baby blue sky, as twin suns laminated the forest. Around four-hundred metres ahead of the house, well below the cliffs, stood the edge of the clearing. Between the waterfall and clearing edge, stood rows upon rows of various plants and herbs. The clearing was a veritable hotbed for flora, all of which were completely unrecognizable to Achre.
"This waterfall is a glacial runoff, and also where we draw off our water and power." Odessa pointed towards a small diverging canal, where a fair-sized waterwheel endlessly spun. The weight of water and gravity worked tirelessly against the paddles.
As she continued further beyond the bridge and waterfall, she tutted. "Chores are just that - chores. If you want to live with me, it is simply something that must be done." Achre could almost hear the smile on her face.
As they made their way down the cliff's meandering path, a sleek silver songbird landed on Odessa's shoulder. She minded it not, it's beak chirping faintly into her ear.
"If that's the case, get Manston to solve it. We both know he loves digging." She drawled, her voice trailing in the breeze.
The songbird chirped at her happily, before taking off once more and vanishing into the trees. They had made their way all the way to the bottom. The crashing of water bounced around the clearing.
Odessa stopped at the rows of vegetation, her hand resting upon a trellis. "These here, you will not touch. At least not until I've learned you on their import."
Achre was truthfully astounded, by his estimate there were a thousand or more different plants, herbs, and fungi. He was moreso astounded by the fact she had just spoken with a songbird, a feat he'd never once witnessed.
"The bird - you just spoke to it..."
"Ah yes, little Orsin. What of her? Never seen a druid before, have you Achre?" Odessa cheekily grinned. "Any other may have questioned those arms of yours. Just an observation."
"What is a dru-" Before Achre could finish his thought, Odessa cut him off. "All in due time my dear. Now listen, we'll start slow, but your intellect tells me you have the ability to learn my craft."
Odessa walked alongside the rows of vegetation. Her voice echoed in detail of the various rows and their significance, and more specifically of the various ways the flora would kill him. Finally, she stopped at the edge of the clearing, a hollowed tree before her. It was massive, easily greater than thirty metres in diameter. Besides the tree bark door and multiple glass ports, it appeared perfectly kempt and healthy.
"This is my workshop, where I shall show you all the wonders of life." Odessa exclaimed contentedly, her hand resting on the vine door handle. "I'll let you in when I feel you've a deep enough handle on all things natural."
The river of time flowed onwards. The Twins rose high in the sky, rays of brilliant light flooded the clearing. Odessa finished showing Achre the boundaries of his outdoor space, and began to drill the basics of Quailoon into his brain.
Most paramount to Odessa, were the dangers. Dangers that thrived, in so deep and twisted a wild land, as Quailoon was. Of note to Achre were not the various beasts of prey and mythical creatures, but of the land itself. As Odessa explained it, the land harbored death for even the most renowned and experienced of explorers and adventurers.
"Unbeknownst to frankly... the near entirety of all folk - is that Quailoon is very much alive." She said, her fingers idly twirling her hair. "Do not mistake desire for goodness; lest Quailoon swallow you whole."
If Achre had heard this prior to his death, he may have chalked it up to the chatterings of the lost and forlorn. His world certainly housed its fair share of cryptic tales, none of which Achre feared. But now, after witnessing the being that was Gol, and more poignantly the creature known as the driver and his carriage; it stirred a conviction within his heart.
'A world of cruelty and death could not bring me to sheol - I will not allow one of shamanism and magicka to do so either.'
Achre tuned out Odessa as his thoughts relinquished control to his subconscious; to the days of wars past. Reels and pictures straddled his view, his memories crashing like a wave against his conscious.
"Hey!" The girl slyly shouted, her face only centimeters from the boy's own. "What did I just say?" She grew a wide smirk, mischief on her mind.
"I... sorry, I-" With no hint of notice, Odessa planted a kiss on the boy's forehead. "I have some matters to tend, in the meantime, you can relax until I return."
Achre looked to Odessa, who had taken a step towards the trees, as she seemed to vanish before his eyes. A thought dawned upon him, Odessa held much more cunning than met the eye. Appearances were deceiving, and it felt apparent to Achre that, for Odessa, this was especially the case.
*****
The Twins began to dusk, as the sweltering heat of day subsided. Odessa exited the clearing opposite her house, thoughts of the young four armed boy on her mind.
'He's highly intelligent, borderline genius. Even considering that... when we talk it almost feels like, like I'm talking to a grown man. A mutation of his degree is also incredible: four arms - all of which he has complete motor control over. There's much more than meets the eye with him. I'm certain.'
As she neared the house, she noticed the hearth was lit, Achre visible through the frosted glass. Odessa saw what looked to be an ephemeral book in his hands, shimmering through the glass.
"I'm home, dear Achre." She called out, the door now open. Achre turned to look at her, the shimmering book no longer in sight.
'Secrets eh, my dear Achre? I'll have you reveal them child... soon. Haaah, why is it this child interests me so dearly?'
"Hello Odessa!" Achre cheerily responded, rising off his seat at the kitchen table. "I take it your matters have been tended to?"
Odessa sidled up to the couch, her outer wear shed near the door. "Come and sit Achre, I'll give you your first teaching on the nature of druidic magic."
Achre moved to Odessa's side, "druidic magic?" He posed, obvious confusion on his face.
"Indeed. 'Tis the embodiment of all things natural, and one of the many paths to the divine." She carried on, "shed your shirt and sit upright."
*****
Achre hesitated at Odessa's request. He had a certain level of trust for the girl, but something so bare and foreign in nature made him feel a pang of unease.
'Magic, huh? Besides the oddities of the driver and its carriage, and the being known as Gol, this is my first time coming into contact with it. I remember one of the books Gol had, had 'magic' as a titular topic. Even with my liminal knowledge, I know: magic is dangerous. I can't trust her so blindly with something so sensitive in nature.'
Despite this, Achre was not just a man of war, he was also a four year old boy. His own spirit seemed to betray his soul, his childish naivety enshrouded his veteran experience. Achre felt... off. As though he was both in and out of his own control. As though his body and mind simultaneously adhered to, and violently refused, his direction.
Achre sighed in brevity, before quickly stripping off his shirt - an article that was originally willed onto him by Gol. "This is... all of this is new to me."
"Cross your legs and sit upright, close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere in nature. Anywhere can work, but the process will go smoother if you choose somewhere you hold a deep connection to."
Achre did just that: legs crossed, back straight, eyes closed. He relented his safety to the girl, for the second time now. A mistake he would never make, and yet, he somehow did.
Deep in Achre's mind, he searched for his desired location. Years upon years of memories floated up, none of which Achre could explicitly stop at.
The beach where he discovered his parents corpses, the prairie where he ferried his siblings across when the war broke out, the wetlands where he saved the life of a brother-in-arms that would one day come to betray him.
His thoughts halted on somewhere else, somewhere crueler, somewhere distinct. It was the forest where he met his death. The hollowed tree that sheltered him. The underbrush stream that washed away his final thoughts. This was his greatest link to nature.
Achre felt a tingle on his mind. When he was suddenly ripped out of his own thoughts, yet stayed locked behind his conscious. Odessa had the barest touch of her two fingers placed upon his head. It felt as though the skin from his forehead was being torn off, like his skull was exposed to air. Still he sat, not the faintest sign of tension apparent.
Odessa moved her index fingers down, stopping once more on Achre's chin. Peel by miniscule peel, he was being flayed. The pain was horrid, comparable to the worst torture he had felt as a soldier.
Odessa began to darken, a deep-colored moss green tone emanated from her skin. The room slowly grew damp, the smell of earth veritably present to Achre. Yet the boy still sat, his eyelids only now began to quiver; again his form held stoic.
Odessa began to sing in some unknown language, moss steadily growing out from her. Gradually it covered the room, floor to ceiling. For some reason Achre felt the room, as if his flayed skin now covered it, as if it was the moss. His facial muscles twitched, a form of instinctual nature, as millions of microscopic needles pierced every pore on his head.
Achre was in angony, but he could only watch and feel his skull and flesh being eviscerated. Almost as if the boy had willed it, a mental image of a hand appeared. It grabbed the incoming feedback, the pain and mental exhaustion - and crushed it.
Achre's body began the throes of death, his physical self losing all connection to his psyche.
"All done my dear Achre!" Odessa gleefully smiled. She wrapped her hand around the child and propped up his seated form. "You can open your eyes now!"
Achre opened his eyes in shock. Everything appeared normal.
Everything except Odessa.
Odessa sat there... and smiled.