Chapter 13: Home

George opened his eyes, squinting against the shafts of bright sunlight, his vision adjusting to its glow. He could hear birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze, the faint sound of conversations. A figure cast him into shadow, and as he blinked back at them, Tia’s features came into focus. She was smiling at him, her freckled cheeks rosy, her green eyes glittering. Her hair was full of vibrant, blooming flowers once again, their green stems spiraling around her horns.

“Am I ... dead?” he asked weakly.

“Not last I checked,” she replied with a chuckle, George feeling her run her fingers through his hair. Now that he was coming around, he could see that he was in a hut, sunlight spilling in through the holes and cracks in its structure. He was on a bed, and Tia was kneeling beside him.

“Where am I?”

“Your friends carried you all the way back to the village,” she explained. “You exerted yourself even more than Kuruk did. We did not know when you might wake.”

“How long has it been?” he asked, trying to sit up. Tia placed a hand on his chest, easing him back down onto the bed.

“Do not exert yourself,” she warned, reaching down to pick up a piece of cloth. She soaked it in a bowl of water that was sitting beside his bed, then wrung it, dabbing it gently against his forehead. It was cool, soothing. “It has been three days since the battle at the Blighter camp. I was starting to become worried. I did not know how we would manage to feed you if you stayed asleep for much longer.”

“Sam, the others...”

“All safe,” she replied before he could continue. “You need not worry,” she added with a reassuring smile. “Rest. Focus on regaining your strength. I thought that Kuruk had trodden the line between life and death as closely as anyone could when he summoned the wind, but you proved me wrong. What you did was foolish.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

She leaned back so that he could see her belly, brushing her fingers against an ugly scar that was situated between her navel and her hip. It hadn’t healed as cleanly as others that he had seen, but it had clearly been enough to keep her alive.

“You are making a habit of saving my life,” she added with a smirk, dabbing his forehead with the rag again.

“How did they even get me back here?” he asked, glancing around the hut. “It was two days’ walk from where we were, at least.”

“They stretched a piece of oilskin from a Blighter tent between two branches,” she replied. “Your friends took turns carrying you between them.”

“Did we win?” he added. “I remember you leaping through the air like a lunatic and cleaving that thing’s head almost clean off.”

“With the shaman’s death, the blight has begun to recede,” she said as she reached for his canteen. She raised it, bringing it to his lips, helping to prop up his head as she encouraged him to drink. “There have been no more risen sighted since, and if any Blighter war parties remained, they have fled to the South. We have begun sending out patrols to tear down the effigies and bury the dead, and they have been finding camps that were recently abandoned. Alas, we can do little for the blighted forest other than wait for it to recover on its own. There are already healthy mushrooms growing on the rotting wood in places further from the effigies. The spirits will reclaim what is theirs, given time.”

“How many of us made it back?” he continued, sputtering a little as he tried to swallow.

“One of your kin was slain by the shaman,” she said solemnly. “Another of mine was killed by risen in the fog.”

“We set out with a company of thirty men, and two-thirds of them were wiped out,” he sighed. “Not even half of your scouting party made it back, either.”

“My kin knew what awaited them,” she replied, staring off into the distance for a moment. “Their sacrifice has helped save the forest. Their spirits are at rest now.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it. I noticed your flowers, by the way,” he added as he pointed to the colorful petals that adorned her hair. “You look ... radiant.”

“It feels good to be back in the village again,” she sighed, reaching up to fiddle with one of the thriving plants. “The life in the forest here invigorates me, I feel it flowing through my veins. Now that the blight will soon recede, I will never have to feel its terrible absence again.”

“You should show me how to grow flowers like that,” he said.

“You should go back to sleep,” she added, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead. “When you are stronger, your friends will be waiting for you.”

“Tiaska told me that you were awake again,” Sam said, sitting down at his bedside. “How are you feelin’?”

“I’m not an invalid,” George chuckled, glad to see his friend again. He reached over to give him an affectionate punch on the arm, still weak enough that his feeble attempt made Sam laugh in turn. “I’m fine,” he added, relaxing back onto the stack of pillows that Tia had built up behind his head. “In fact, I’m enjoying some well-earned relaxation.”

“Waited on hand and foot by deer people,” Sam said, giving him a grin.

“How is everyone?” George asked. “Are they in good spirits?”

“This village is a lot more pleasant than the basecamp,” he replied, shifting his weight on the uneven floor. “Friendlier locals, too. They’re real grateful for what we did, been showerin’ us with wreaths of flowers and feedin’ us fresh hottah steaks with mushroom ketchup. Did you teach ‘em how to make that?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“You weren’t kiddin’ about that mountain of gold,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “Bringin’ a couple of pickaxes along for the journey was a good idea. I don’t know how else we’d get it out. Dawes has been havin’ us take turns minin’ the veins up in the foothills. It’s only been a couple of days, and we already have enough to pay every man here the wage the company promised him thrice over. The hardest part is gonna be decidin’ how much we can stand to carry. We’re gonna be rich by the end of this.”

“I only wish that more of us could be here to enjoy it,” George replied solemnly.

“You and me both,” Sam said with a nod. “Most of ‘em were longhunters by profession. They knew the risks – we all did. They weren’t fixin’ to fight the livin’ dead, granted, but it could just as easily have been hostile natives or starvation that got ‘em. ‘Least this way, they died doin’ somethin’ important, right?”

“Tia’s people have a comforting vision of the afterlife. You should ask them about it.”

“Nah, I’ve never been the spiritual type,” Sam replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Even after all this.”

“So, what does Dawes want to do? Is he still set on leaving as soon as possible?”

“He’s cooled down a little,” Sam replied. “Even Dawes can’t turn down a hot meal and a soft bed. He said that the locals can keep the surplus rifles, as their owners don’t have any use for ‘em no more, and they’re only dead weight to us. He’s got Marshall showing ‘em how to make black powder. Dawes is fixin’ to leave eventually, but it looks like we’ll be stickin’ around a little longer. What about you?”

“Me?” George asked.

“Yeah. You’ve spent a lotta time with these people, and don’t think I’m too dense to see you and Tiaska sneakin’ off to your tent every chance you get. You wouldn’t be the first person to decide that native life suits you better.”

“Looks like you’ve got me figured out,” George conceded. “I’d given it a lot of thought already, and I was going to tell you,” he added hurriedly. “I just ... didn’t know how to phrase it in a way that didn’t make it sound like I was abandoning you all.”

“What kinda lousy friend would I be if I saw you findin’ happiness as abandonin’ me?” he chuckled, George blinking back at him in surprise.

“You know, I never give you enough credit, Sam. You’re a wiser man than I am. Here, I have something for you,” he added as he leaned over the side of the bed to reach into his pack. After rummaging inside it for a moment, he produced his leather-bound journal, handing it to his friend.

“This is your journal,” Sam said as he glanced first at the book, then back at George. “I can’t take this.”

“I need you to carry it for me,” George explained, closing Sam’s hands over its cover. “If I’ll be staying here, that means I won’t be able to take word of all that we’ve discovered back to Albion.”

“Didn’t you wanna be some famous scientist?” Sam asked, confused. “This book is all that you’ve worked for. Not a day went by that I didn’t see you scribblin’ in it.”

“I suppose,” George replied, giving him a weary smile. “Though, I expect I’ll be occupied with less academic pursuits for the foreseeable future. Still, if you can take this back East and have it posted to the college, they’ll be able to read all of my notes. I made a record of everything in these pages, explained it all to the best of my abilities. Even if I’m not present to accept the accolades, I can still spread this knowledge, and that’s enough for me. I wrote down the address inside the cover. Just copy it onto the back of a letter, and have it mailed. It’ll find its way there. You’re the only person I trust to do this.”