I was screwed. No, I AM screwed.
But to say that I had no reason for my actions is an understatement. Would you go out with a woman in the middle of the preparation of one of the biggest days in your village in the guise of "relieving fatigue" (her words, not mine)?
If you are not convinced, then what would you feel when a generally hyperactive red-head comes to your tent as she always has and you, in the middle of refining your skills for the trials for tomorrow, who just happens to be caught in the clutches of her unending curiosity, are once again dragged out of your safe haven into another escapade to the forest?
Of course, by the years, you will have to get used to this.
These nightly (sometimes daily, when no one is looking) escapades are the only things keeping me on the verge of sanity. But if I must be honest, that fact does not ease my mind one bit given the circumstances now.
To summarize this situation up, I have a bit of important business to do tomorrow and here I am frolicking in the middle of a forest that isn't even part of our territory. All this, in the great cause of "relieving fatigue".
Dragging me all the way to the moonlit path on the edge of the forest, I had no choice but to submit myself to the will of my feminine captor.
But it was rewarding too.
The straight red hair swaying on her shoulders, bundled in a braid made of woven plant-matter, reminded me of a swamp fire. Volatile, unpredictable, unbearably hot, yet in the right circumstances, a welcome sight in these wetlands. Sometimes, even a beautiful one.
As was she.
No, so was she all the more.
She turned to me, showing her fair features, her green eyes full of life, and her mouth forming an impish yet now very feminine grin that stretched from ear-to-ear. I both shuddered at what plan she was forming for this trip and yet, I looked forward to it. A strange emotion that I have not felt for a very, very long time.
The feeling of adventure.
Back when we were kids, this strange girl came so suddenly. She introduced herself as Fern Harp, daughter of the long-gone Diethroot Harp, as she came into my study tent 10 years ago. At first, I dismissed her as a hyperactive child, but after her constant nagging and dragging, I went along with her little "adventures". The trips helped me relax a little and helped take my mind off my study.
The main reason being was that her presence alone was an adventure in of itself.
I knew that if the circumstances had been different, I would have never hesitated to take this woman as my wife. If I wanted to, and I shuddered at the very thought, I can elope with her and forsake my birthright.
All I will do, if it meant I could forever be with her.
But now...
"Hey, Hea," she said. Smiling, scheming face now gone, replaced with one that radiated curiosity. I managed to smile a little at her still calling me on the nickname she herself decided on for me.
My name is Heath Erhonial, and my family and relatives call me "Heth". This girl, however, decided to go out of her way to rename me on the sole reason that it was "easier to say". This name-change took me by surprise at its sheer randomness, but it stuck like a mosquito in amber.
Suddenly, she thrust forward, putting her face a few fingers right in front of mine.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
I looked at her one more time, wide-eyed that she can read the unshown expression on my poker-face. If I hadn't known her as a child back then, I would have thought her to be a telepath.
"It's nothing," I answered, trying my best to maintain the usual serious tone in my voice. I tried hard as maintained my composure but was immediately betrayed by my fidgety body. I looked away.
"No, no. You're all looking away from me," She exclaimed, thrusting her face once again to mine.
I looked away again from her, clearly flustered. My mind once again wandered into the lingering thoughts that I accumulated in the days past.
It started when we became 15 years of Druid age, which was 30 in human years. I began to see her in a different light, and since then, I have had an unexplainable feeling in my person. One that seemed wanting to be with her every day.
But I know that that wish will be impossible, given the situation I am in due to my circumstances.
It is not that I didn't want my feelings to be known, it is the fact that even if she felt the same, I knew I did not have it in me to go through with what I said. The last thing I will do is to betray her happiness with my inconsistencies.
I am a slave to responsibility, through and through. That is my shameful handicap, my unbreakable shackle. I hated it with all my heart, but I cannot bring myself to abandon it for the sake of my selfish desires.
"Is it about tomorrow?"
Her question brought me back to reality. In truth, it was mostly about the fact that it will, if things go well, be the last time I will see her like this.
"Yes," I lied. Though not necessarily, as it was also true. Never has the word "tomorrow" been so heavy to me, much more the fact that it was what all the preparation and hard work I had done for 10 years amounted to.
"Well, then," she said, smiling once again. I looked at her face and noticed that it wasn't the usual grin she had, it was something far more akin to a smile of concern and genuine happiness. Her eyes were, as they have always been, full of innocence, and with her fair-skinned face they seemingly all the more reflected by the moonlight. It was if I was talking to a fairy, not the girl I knew all of my life.
The image was reinforced by her voice, "I'll make sure to make you stop worrying about tomorrow!"
"And how exactly do you intend to do that," I asked in my usual annoyed voice. Which I intended to do to hide the sadness I felt within.
She grabbed my hand.
"Wait, see," she answered in her usual child-like voice, albeit in the tone of a woman trying to be a child, "and follow me!"
In what seemed like an eternity, one that I wished was truly an eternity, we walked along the forest as we did back then; her with my hand held, and I, letting myself be dragged along.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked her. Though I knew she usually wouldn't tell me or rather, she wouldn't give me a direct answer. I had accepted that it was due to the fact that she either just wanted to play along for an adventurous vibe's sake or she genuinely didn't know.
"To a special place," she answered with a sure tone, and not turning back to me as she stated so.
She suddenly slowed her pace.
"Say, Hea, is there someone you like in the village?"
What brought about this question now, I wondered.
"I don't exactly know anyone in my age. It's not like I played with the girls outside my tent, much less know them. The only ones I got to know were my family, my relatives, the grownups that came to my tent, and of course, you. No o--"
She seemed to stop walking for a moment.
"Fern?"
She resumed her march, gripping my hand ever so tightly.
Neither of us said a word again after that exchange. Somehow, I felt that we both knew how each felt for one another. It garnered something heavy in the air, one that seemed to rob our mouths of words and gave our faces the color akin to that of a red-yukka fruit.
I believe you can call it awkwardness.
But I admire Fern's resolve to lead me to where she wanted to go despite of the atmosphere, she held my hand with a tight grip that spoke volumes of how she felt.
Or at least that's what I want to think.
I had noticed my self to be staring at Fern's back so much that I turned red all the more. And so I submitted my eyes to the surrounding area to distract me, albeit temporarily, from her presence.
The moon illuminated the whole forest around us. Various nocturnal flora and fauna can be seen interacting with one another to seemingly prove that the forest does not sleep.
5 male Thorn Mice can be observed walking with their families to hunt for insects and fruits. Their favorite being the Horned-Crawler, a beetle with a distinguished horn and 5 pairs of legs that consumes rotting matter and plants along the forest floor.
A Moear mate-pair is currently sleeping in a cave near a sturdy Honier Wood tree, whilst a member of the wide-eyed bird species Ku'wago can be barely seen perched atop its branches. It must be looking at the Thorn Mice, calculating just the right moment to snatch one of the juicy younglings while avoiding the poisonous, detachable spikes the adults are known for.
Nearby, a Lupis Canari or a Dire Wolf is running with its pack, most probably hunting a Jacobb's Jumper that has been separated from its herd. The herd must've been grazing peacefully in a clearing and was disrupted by the coordinated attacks of the Dire Wolves. The Wolves do this to easily separate the weak and young Jumpers from the panicking, healthy ones.
I gaze at the events unfolding around me, amazed that I have been witness to a different kind of world all this time. Indeed, the world outside is vastly different from the one inside my tent.
I am once again thankful to the one that allowed me these beautiful sights.
Had I not met her, my only friend, now beloved, I must have gone insane from the amount of parchment spells I had to create and the training I have been undergoing.
I gripped her hand tightly back, to her surprise, and picked up my pace to walk beside her.
I looked straight in the path before me, afraid that if I saw her face while we trod the path, I would have to fight with myself to hold her dear.
She did the same.
Stiffly, we walked a little while until we came to a clearing near a cliff.
"W-we're here," she said.
I turned to her, surprised at her unusual stammer. But I found it relieving that even the sure and adventurous Fern can stutter every once in a while.
I smiled at the thought, and the smile then turned into a laugh.
"H-hey!"
It was a laughter of both happiness and desperation.
"Sorry, sorry," I wheezed out. I was just so happy that I lived to see the side of someone I thought I knew unfold, "So... This is the place?"
"Y-yeah," she replied, "sorry Heath, it must be quite boring to you."
I sat down the cool grass and looked up to the most beautiful view of the sky I have ever seen. Almost all stars are seen here, even some constellations that are said to be only seen in the distant East. Even the view of the land showed me where the trees of the great Forest of Spirits ended and started, one could also see the villages of the Forest Druids and the mountain range where the Mountain Druids lived.
In short, it was like I was on top of the world.
"It's... beautiful, Fern."
I then turned to her and took her hand.
"Sit down with me."
A strong wind suddenly blew, making her hold down her robe's skirt to cover her legs. Not that I was looking at them, anyways.
The wind settled, and as she moved to sit down, she then trips over her robe.
And landed at my lap, laying down.
I held up my hands in impulse, not to catch her, but to make sure I don't touch anything inappropriate. It was taboo to touch a woman in a rude way if she hasn't approved so and isn't your wife in Druid culture.
"C-c-can you...," I gestured for her to sit up.
But she didn't.
"Fern?"
"I... I would like to stay like this for a while."
"Eh? But you know the customs. We're not wedded."
"Hmmm," she answered, as if in thought. And with a twinkle in her eye, she added, "Yet."
I could barely contain my shock and excitement. But then I remembered the situations leading to this moment, and so I composed myself.
"You know we can't be, Fern."
She didn't reply.
You see, Fern was a member of the Green Sapling Tribe, a Forest Druid circle.
Diethroot Harp, her father, was exiled by my father, Xandruth Erhonial, due to an offense he didn't commit. But was exiled due to vote anyway, and so he lived a lone life in the forest.
Until he met Fern's mother, a Forest Druid who happened to pass by and fell in love with Diethroot at first sight, for some reason.
Fern's mother unfortunately passed away after she was born, and so her father took care of her until he was done away by a Moear when Fern was 5 in Druid years.
Soon found 5 days later in the cottage where her family used to live by the Forest Druids' chief, Garnwud the Strong, she is then adopted. It turns out Fern possessed the birthmark her mother was identified with; a brown heart in her hand.
Garnwud was, in fact, her mother's brother which in turn, made him her uncle. And now, she was planned to be married off to the next chief, Garnwud's protégé, Garnruth the Wise.
The reason she even met me to begin with was that she also wanted to run away from her one and only responsibility; to be wed to Garnruth.
Much like I was. Except I wasn't to be wed to someone yet.
I am the son of the 43rd Chief of the Bear Claws tribe, a Marsh Druid circle. My father was stung and wounded by a Southern Manticore during a negotiation gone wrong.
Thankfully due to all Druids' innate connection to nature, he was not petrified immediately by the Manticore's poison. But was instead subjected to the Slow Decay; The state of which one will be slowly petrified over the course of the years.
It is because of this that I have been dedicating my life for the last 10 years to study and become the next chief in line. Or at least qualify to. For tomorrow will be the day of the Choosing, in which the new Bear Claw Chief will be decided the testing of Strength, Wisdom, and Discipline.
Which is exactly why I can't be with Fern.
The mere fact that our tribes, our circles, the Forest and Marsh, were ancient rivals was one reason. The other was that it was inevitable to go to war with the Forest Druids, regardless of who wins as the next chief.
My tribe, and I had feeling that Fern's tribe also, wanted revenge for what happened to my father while the latter wants to eradicate us, the Bear Claws, but hasn't done so over the past years due to the intervention of the dryads. And so, they pour out their hate by falsely accusing us of grabbing hunting grounds, a valuable resource for a tribe, and of other offences. We have endured of the prosecution for as long as we could remember, but my father was the last straw.
Setting out to resolve things between some Bear Claw hunters and Green Saps over hunting grounds, the negotiations went wrong as a Manticore attacked my father. Because he saved a Green Sap, he was stung.
The people believed it was planned all along. I didn't want to believe it myself, but it proved to be the most logical choice of the time. And now, the entire tribe wants war, retaliation. And with the dryads' neutral take lately, their protection of us was now dwindling, that desire might be a necessity for our survival.
Of course, I wouldn't want to be overruled and I also wanted revenge to the Green Sap my father saved and received the Manticore's sting for. I want to gut the bastard so hard, heal him, then gut him again.
The hatred that burned within me for 10 years was stronger than ever. More so the wounds that the Green Saps inflicted upon my people. All because of an ancient feud not a single member of each tribe has a memory of.
But Fern...
She showed me that ancient wounds can heal, that both circles can live together in harmony if everyone wanted to.
It was through her little adventures that I learned of the land from beyond the swamps and marshes of my home. It was with her did I learn that Dire Wolves can be tamed and are ever-so loyal to their mates. It was with her that I learned that the Moear, big and scary as it was, actually had an herbivorous diet, but does eat meat if plants were scarce. It was with Fern that I learned everything I know and become the Druid I am today.
It was with her that I first fell in love.
But will that be the last thing I will ever know of because of her?
She held her hand up and touched my cheek.
"Hea," she said softly. I resisted the urge to look down at the beautiful being laying on my lap. I felt happiness, but before I knew it, I was shedding tears.
Why am I crying?
Ever since that day she revealed her past to me 5 years ago, I knew this friendship would never hold. And now... now we might as well be forced to kill each other.
"Stop it," she said, "You're making my cheeks wet, you know."
At last, I looked down. She was crying, too.
The urge was to great, as I looked at her and her lips my resolve weakened.
And so I pushed my lips against hers.
No words will ever be sufficient to describe how great of a feeling it was. Nor will I attempt to, no one describes their awkward first kiss.
"That was sloppy," she remarked.
I looked up again, flustered, "Shut it, Fern."
"But I felt it was... unique."
"That's another way to say it was bad," I snickered. The gnawing feeling within me, the feeling to keep her close was all the greater. But as the future Chief, I had to keep my composure.
"So, are you still worried?"
"About what, Fern?"
"Us."
I stared at the distance, wondering how long the constant pull between dream and reality was to last. To answer her question, I honestly didn't know. I can't bring her back, much as I wanted to, or else she'd be slaughtered by the tribe for being a Green Sap. I can't go with her either, I reek Marsh.
All I can do for now was savor the moment, THIS moment, within my grasp.
Once again, I run away from the most important questions. With responsibilities as my alibi, I have accepted to run this race called the facade of Heath Erhonial and continue to win so in an attempt to run from the reality of each situation.
But now, no longer. I was determined to lose the race.
All for her.
"Fern... I..."
She looked at me expectantly. Even I who wasn't looking at her knew that.
What image of Heath Erhonial did she have in her mind? Whatever it is, now would be a good time to solidify that image, turn it into reality for her.
"What is it, Hea?" The voice implored me to tell the truth and nothing but the absolute truth. And I for once, wanted to comply. Even in this fleeting moment.
"I lo--"
The rustling of leaves cut me short and before I knew it, a bear claw was aimed right at my neck.
"My, my," a gruff masculine voice said, "what do we have here?"
I looked to Fern, she was no longer on my lap, instead she was held by the arm by a man in distinguishable Forest Druid armor.
Garnruth.
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