The cart pulled into Oakhaven. Elicia marveled as the quaint village nestled by oak trees and small valleys slowly unfolded before her eyes. The sunset painted orange hues across the pastures where she saw several cattle drinking from the stream running across their grazing area. Pastoral cottages lined up unevenly further beyond the pastures, all strangely having uniform thatched roofs and small gardens up front.
As the cart slowed to a stop, a chorus of excited squeals erupted. Several children, their faces smudged with dirt and their eyes bright with recognition, broke from a game of tag and ran toward Elicia. "The Lady of the Woods!" they cried, their voices joyous. "The Lady of the Woods!"
Elicia's heart swelled. She recognized some of them, children she'd helped, lost and frightened within the Whispering Woods, their small faces a blur of gratitude in her memory. She smiled. A genuine, radiant smile that reached her eyes. She knelt, offering her hands to them.
The children, emboldened, swarmed her, their laughter like tinkling bells.
Phaeton, initially startled by the sudden influx of small humans, found himself swept up in the tide of children. He grumbled, his fur bristling slightly, but ultimately resigned himself to the inevitable, his tail twitching in reluctant amusement as he followed, a grumpy king trailing his loyal subjects.
Elicia laughed, a sound as light and carefree as the breeze rustling through the leaves of the nearby trees. "You can do it, Phaeton."
Phaeton looked back at her, his eyes half-closed in disdain towards his mistress. He purred in slight defiance.
The children pulled Elicia's hand, all of them saying names of different games at once. "Alright, alright. One at a time, children." She laughed.
Soon, a chaotic yet endearing blend of tag, hide-and-seek, and impromptu storytelling unfolded before the villagers of Oakhaven.
Elicia tumbled playfully in the grass, her silvery-blue eyes sparkling with mirth, her black hair escaping its braid to dance around her face.
The villagers, watching from their homes and doorways, smiled. The scene was idyllic, a tableau of pure, unadulterated joy. The children's unrestrained delight, Elicia's infectious laughter, and even Phaeton's grudging participation formed a heartwarming picture that filled the air with an almost tangible sense of serenity.
The worries of the day seemed to melt away in the warmth of the moment, replaced by a feeling of shared peace and contentment. The children, exhausted but happy, finally quieted, their faces flushed with exertion. Elicia, her breath coming in short gasps, still felt that warmth lingering around her heart.
The farmer and his wife appeared, their smiles reflecting the serenity of the scene.
"Alright, children." The farmer called out, his voice firm but kind as he addressed the kids. "Go home and get yourselves ready for supper. Let the good lass rest."
With a unison of yeses, the children ran back to their own homes, laughing and seemingly adding one last game of race.
The wife approached Elicia with a clean towel on her arm. "I'll accompany you to the nearby lake." She smiled. "Let's get you freshened up before dinner."
Elicia nodded and smiled shyly as she accepted the towel. She then followed the farmer's wife to a lake near the outskirts of Oakhaven.
As Elicia finished washing herself and changing into a fresh set of clothes, the farmer's wife led her towards the village supper. The air carried the scent of roasting meat and simmering stews, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers and woodsmoke. It was a welcoming aroma after such a long day of walking through the Whispering Woods and playing games with the children of Oakhaven.
The village feast was a vibrant affair. The villagers' conversation as they ate was a soft murmur against the crackling bonfire in the middle. The children each ate their bowl of food, choosing to sit beside Phaeton, surrounding the cat as he silently ate his large plate of roasted mushrooms, legumes, sweet potatoes, and roasted chicken.
Elicia sat across the children and her companion, enjoying a hearty bowl of stew as she smiled at the sight of Phaeton eating peacefully even around the young ones.
A young woman, perhaps sixteen summers old, approached Elicia, a confident grace in her step. Behind her trailed a group of teenagers, mirroring her poise, their eyes curious and admiring. The young woman addressed Elicia directly, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Everyone's been talking about the Lady of the Woods," she began, her voice carrying a respectful tone. "They say you've been guiding lost children back to the paths for years. Some even claim they've seen you at the edge of the woods... looking." She paused, searching for the right word. "Imposing. Like a silent giant watching over us."
Elicia felt a blush creep up her neck. The revelation that the villagers knew so much about her, even those times she felt like she hid well from the eyes of the passersby, was unexpectedly embarrassing. She offered them a smile. "I... I suppose I've been around a bit." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't used to such open acknowledgment, preferring the anonymity of her woodland existence.
Several other villagers, drawn by the conversation, gathered around. A farmer, his face etched with lines of hard work and gentle wisdom, nodded in agreement. "Many have tried to thank you, but the Whispering Woods... it doesn't really like strangers." He said his voice filled with a profound respect.
An older woman, her eyes twinkling with amusement, added, "We call you our guardian, our silent protector. The children are never truly lost when you are near."
The conversation flowed freely, a gentle stream of shared stories and heartfelt appreciation. Elicia, initially embarrassed, found herself touched by their warmth and gratitude. The community's acceptance, their unspoken understanding of her role in their lives, felt like a warm embrace, easing the uncertainty of her journey ahead.
As the last of the feast was consumed, a hush fell over the gathering. A lone figure, a weathered bard with kind eyes and nimble fingers, stepped beside the embers of the now smaller bonfire, his worn stringed instrument gleaming softly in the firelight.
Elicia looked at the young woman beside her, confused. The young woman smiled at her, she gestured a finger on her lips, shushing Elicia.
The bard settled himself on a stool and began to strum a string. His music wasn't boisterous, it was a gentle weaving of sound.
"When the susurrus of the leaves begins to fade,
a child's cry yonder in the woods starts to cascade.
'Hush, little darling, don't you cry.
Mother is here, you'll be all right.'
Oh, mother, now, please don't weep,
thank heaven's the child's asleep.
Soon, the doors closed, the child cradled by the leaves,
away from the cries of a nation that grieves.
Oh, again the whispers of the leaves start to fade,
the child's cry deep in the woods begins to cascade.
'Hush, little darling...' Oh, mother?
Your voice can no longer be heard further."
His voice, rich and resonant, carried the weight of longing, each note imbued with sadness. The villagers listened with rapt attention, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames and the bard's heartfelt performance.
Elicia, captivated, felt a strange longing stir within her. The music seemed to resonate deeply within her soul, echoing the solitary life she'd lived deep in the heart of the Whispering Woods. When the final note faded into the quiet night, silence reigned before a quiet wave of appreciation rippled through the assembled villagers.
The farmer and his wife, their faces reflecting the warmth of the evening, approached Eilcia. "We have arranged a simple lodging for you." The farmer said kindly, his hand gesturing towards a small cottage nestled near the edge of the village. "It's modest but comfortable." Elicia expressed her gratitude, her heart brimming with thankfulness for their unexpected generosity. The couple led her to the small cottage its walls smelling of fresh wood and dried herbs. Inside, the air was warm and inviting.
She settled down beside Phaeton, the purring of her cat a soothing counterpoint to the lingering melodies of the bard's performance. Exhaustion claimed her quickly; the long journey, the excitement of the day, and the powerful emotions stirred by the music combined to lull her into a deep, restful sleep. The soft snores of her contented cat were a gentle lullaby, promising a new day filled with possibilities.