It wasn’t like him at all to want to wander, let along for him to find the long and wending way from the city, first to old castle, and from there, feeling the pull to wander into the Wardwood. It had been hard enough to persuade his father so suddenly to let him use his monthly allowance of sorts, to pay for lodging in the town of Oldcastle. The general assumption in the house, he was sure, was that he’d lost his head. Whatever the case he’d finally been allowed, and had holed up, quite on his own inside a small inn, the bed wasn’t too much more uncomfortable than his lodging at the school. Besides, staying here was better than going home, there had been more talk of his needing to court someone, and he hadn’t the faintest idea where to start…or even if he should.
It just felt…complicated. He thought perhaps that was why he needed to get away. Strange faces, strange places and the haunting want to wander into that deep dark tangle of woods. The branches seemed a tangle of black and green, haunting and heavy with the smell of dry and rotting leaves mingling with god knew what else. Wolves perhaps, lay somewhere out there, or the least the wolf stones that people mentioned. Great-carved stones that ‘watched’ you, he didn’t want to see them, but he did at the same time.
He walked, wandered really to the outskirts of Old town, a lost in thought kind of daze as he pondered everything, the past, the present. The moment he’d started dreaming not of women, their curves and their faces, their well-turned ankles or all the other things that the boys at school prattled about. Instead he dreamed of…men. He’d tried hard for a while to fancy girls, to look at them and want them…but he still didn’t. They haunted his thoughts even now, even here. He would watch handsome faces from a distance and wonder, if they thought about the same things as he did.
He felt alone, really alone sometimes, like if he didn’t know…really know that Ever had the same tastes as him that he was just, a free floating freak in the world who wasn’t trying on men and boys for size.
He felt… like he was being called, the woods calling him, from the outskirts he made his way, one foot laid in front of the other towards he didn’t know where. What mattered was that he was moving towards… something.
Branches slapped back into his face and made his eyes water, his feet ached and burned from the blisters that were gnawing at his heels from walking in shoes not meant for more than city streets. He was so lost by the evening that he slept, lost in the woods covered by his school jacket and wondering if he’d ever see civilization again. He thought perhaps he’d lost his mind not to have even tried to turn around. He woke early, cold and hungry, exhausted but needing to stumble onwards. It was there in the early dawn that he saw the tree. It was beautiful, strange…terrifying in a way. The runes carved into its trunk glowed, it was unnatural, but it called to him. So many totems hung from the branches, he couldn’t believe the sheer number of them, the colors, and the curious designs. Tiny perfect stone Deer scattered through the branches, swaying slightly with the wind that made the leaves rustle and hiss.
He saw it, there in the crux of two branches, pinned against them, the body was the color of damp slate, lightening towards its small belly like the rain hadn’t blown enough to reach it. Smatterings of the most amazing bright blue like sky dotted around the eyes and hind leg, its horns tipped with the same color like foxfire.
He staggered to his feet and reached for it, needing it, when he touched it it seemed like some corner of the world slid into place. It fell into his hands and he pulled it back, clutching it to his chest and shivering with the damp of dew soaked clothes. He held it out, smoothing a thumb over the tiny bright blue eye, the smudge of pale grey at its mouth.
He’d never taken something like this before, never really felt as though he’d really, truly owned something, but it was his, so perfectly his. He lifted his hands and pressed it again to his chest before turning and stumbling back as best he could towards where he had come.
More through luck than skill he stumbled into view of Oldtown before it grew too dark to find his way back to the inn. Limping, clutching his totem close he found his way back to the inn. He was amazed that they didn’t seem to think bandits had assaulted him. He paid some extra coin to have a hot bath drawn, it hurt, but it was a good hurt. He soaked in the steaming water, scrubbing away the dirt and muck and gingerly touching the blistered mess of his aching feet. “I found you…” He told the little token. “…Hern.” He reaches out a damp hand, almost, but not quite daring to touch it with wet hands. He dropped his hand back into the water and leaned against the tub wall, he sat there till the water started to cool and finally got out, and dressed for bed. He set the little totem beside him on the table where he could see it when he woke, a small comfort to soothe him, because in the morning he’d return to his familiar life, with just a touch of strange and wonderful carried in his pocket.
