Chapter 6: Call of the Waya

They made their way back through the forest, George carrying his dry clothes in one arm and his wet shirt in the other. Fortunately, his boots were dry, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable. The water didn’t seem to bother Tia, but she was wearing so little, and she had no need for shoes.

Since their romantic encounter in the pool, he had allowed himself to see her in a more covetous light, the graceful features that he had so admired now setting his heart skipping. She was so lithe, so athletic, soft and springy in all the places that a man might desire.

When they arrived back at the base of the wall, they crouched through the low tunnel of roots again, emerging into the soft glow of the huts on the other side. George hadn’t yet mapped the layout of the village in his mind’s eye, so he followed Tia back along the snaking footpaths until they reached her little cottage. George felt so exposed walking around wearing only his boots and a pair of drenched long johns. He had to keep in mind that the dress standards here were much more lax than those that he was used to, so he doubted that anyone would be offended.

He ducked through the narrow doorway, stepping into Tia’s quaint little home, his companion turning to smile at him.

“What should I do with my wet clothes?” he asked as he set his jacket and pants down nearby. “Do you have somewhere that I could hang them up to dry?”

“Give them to me, and I will set them on the rack outside,” she replied. George hesitated, his wet clothes dripping on the uneven floorboards. “You can undress in front of me,” she said, her smile turning sly. “I have already seen you bathe, remember?”

There was a creak as she flopped down onto her bed, crossing her long legs, leaning back as she waited patiently for him to proceed. His face almost as red as it had been in the pool, George turned his back to her, dropping his wet shirt to the floor. After kicking off his boots, he peeled off his socks, then started to pull down his long johns. He could feel Tia’s eyes on him all the while.

When he turned around again, he was cupping his crotch in one hand to preserve his modesty, Tia smirking at him as she slid down off her bed. She collected his discarded garments, then exited through the front door, George moving over to his pack. He fished inside it for his dry clothes, and when he was dressed again, he turned around to see her standing in the open doorway. She was leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, looking him up and down pointedly.

“The sun is long set,” she said, closing the door behind her as she stepped inside. She made her way over to her bed, sitting on the pile of furs, watching him. George wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t invited him to join her, nor had she taken their encounter in the pool any further than a kiss. Was she waiting for him to make the next move?

“I have extra furs if your blankets will not suffice,” she added. That made her intentions clear, and he nodded, pulling his bedroll from his pack. Perhaps there was some cultural reason for them not to share a bed that he wasn’t aware of? Either way, he decided that the gentlemanly approach would be the appropriate course of action. Tia was aggressive, provocative, far moreso than any woman he had ever encountered. She clearly knew what she wanted.

Tia buried herself in her pile of furs, George wrapping himself up on the floor nearby. As he closed his eyes, shifting his weight to get comfortable, he heard a sultry whisper that set his heart pounding again.

“Goodnight, George...”

“Come on!” Tia insisted, giving him a gentle kick with one of her hooves. George sat up straight, his blankets sloughing off him, rubbing his eyes groggily as he peered up at his host.

“Whassat?” he grumbled.

“Come on, wake up. You will miss it!”

Having no idea what it was, he climbed out of his bedroll, hurriedly pulling on his boots as Tia hopped on the spot by the door. She was so full of energy, her slender legs like coiled springs. When she opened the door, he saw that it was still dark outside. It must be early morning.

“Come,” Tia said, taking him by the hand.

She led him along one of the winding paths, weaving between the trees until they came to an especially large specimen at the edge of the wall. There was a spiraling staircase that led up its gnarled trunk, Tia bounding up onto the first step, gripping the vine railing as she waved him onward.

Wondering what was so important that she had to wake him at the crack of dawn, George followed behind her, the old wood creaking worryingly under his weight. When they reached the wide branches, he saw that the staircase continued higher, following the natural contours of the tree as though the two had grown together. He dared not look down, as they must be seventy feet off the ground by now. The sun was just starting to rise, staining the sky pink, providing enough light that he wasn’t too worried about losing his footing.

They climbed into the highest branches, the staircase eventually leading to a circular platform at the very top. Tia took his hand, helping him up, the wind blowing his hair as he looked out over the forest. This was one of the tallest trees for miles, which meant that he had an unimpeded view, the horizon fading into atmospheric haze in the distance. The green canopy blew in the breeze like the surface of a verdant ocean, the wind making slow waves in their leaves, the morning mist hanging low over the forest. The snow-capped mountain cast its long shadow from the East, and the sun was rising behind it, shafts of golden light spilling over its craggy peaks.

Tia sat down and crossed her legs, George following suit, trying not to think about how high up they were. There was another wooden railing that ringed the platform, so he wasn’t too worried about falling over the edge. Branches sprouted up from the wooden floor here and there, as was customary for the buildings here, cradling the structure.

“I love to watch the sun rise over the mountain,” she whispered, shuffling a little closer to him. She lay her head on his shoulder, her proximity quickening his heart, the scent of her flowers rising to his nose again. “How I missed this sight, trapped beneath the blighted trees.”

George remembered how the oppressive fog that always accompanied the Blighters had obscured the sky, blocking the sun’s warmth and light. It seemed so far away now, like a half-remembered nightmare. He felt a knot in his stomach when he considered that he would have to go back there soon, that his friends might still be facing its dangers. Tia’s gentle touch calmed him, however, the beautiful sight before him raising his spirits.

As the ball of golden light rose, more of its rays bled over the towering mountain, the sky taking on mesmerizing hues of red and orange. The mist that blanketed the trees seemed to glow as the sunlight touched them, almost making it look like the entire forest was ablaze.

“Alright, this was worth being woken up for,” George conceded. As he glanced down at her, he could have sworn that he saw the flowers in her headdress spread their colorful petals wider, basking in the sun’s warmth.

“Do you still wish to learn more about magic?” Tia asked.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “You seemed to think that I made some progress last time.”

That pleased her, and she lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling up at him.

“I am glad. It will help you to know me better.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but if she was happy, then so was he.

As they made their way back to Tia’s cottage, George saw that the village was starting to awaken now. Smoke was pouring from the conical roof of the large building where he had eaten the day before, indicating that someone was probably preparing breakfast, and a few curious villagers were pausing to glance at him as they began their day.

A trio of guards rounded a tree ahead of them, identified by their green cloaks and the bows that were slung over their shoulders, making a beeline for the pair. Tia stepped forward, the three men approaching her.

“The elders have requested your presence,” the lead guard announced. “You are to accompany us to the gate, where this one will give a demonstration of his power,” he added as he nodded to George. “They wish to verify the claims for themselves.”

It didn’t seem like they had much of a choice in the matter, Tia giving him a nod in confirmation.

“We must return to my hut to collect the weapon first,” she explained, the guards falling in behind them as they set off again.

George silently cursed himself, realizing that he had let the rifle out of his sight. He had to keep it close, lest the villagers see an opportunity to claim it for themselves. He might trust Tia, but he didn’t know these people as she did, and the elders didn’t yet understand the nature of his gun. They might mistakenly think that it was something to be appropriated.

They arrived at the hut, and George grabbed his rifle, donning his pants and jacket for good measure. After checking the powder charges in the bag on his belt, he and Tia followed the three guards to the base of the wall, where they arrived at the same towering doors that they had passed through upon first entering the village.

Waiting outside was a small party of villagers, the three elders joined by half a dozen guards. They were old and crooked, but clearly not yet drained of their vitality, able to get around without the aid of walking sticks. George noted that the sparrow was still perched on one of the elder’s antlers, the bird chirping at him as he neared.

“Good, you have arrived,” the old woman croaked.

“What is it that you require of us, elders?” Tia asked with a respectful bow of her horned head.

“We have carefully considered your account of the events that transpired in the blighted forest,” the old man with the sparrow replied, the little bird flapping its wings as he turned his head to George. “We wish to witness the power of this weapon for ourselves before we deliberate any further.”

Any further? It had already been the better part of a day, what more could they possibly have to talk about? Remembering how Tia had reacted when he had spoken up during their last meeting, he held his tongue. Better to give the old coots what they wanted if it would speed the process along.

“I should warn you,” George began, reaching for his gun. He unslung it from his back, holding it up so that they could see it, their eyes tracking it curiously. “I won’t fire it more than once or twice, as I have a finite number of charges, and I expect I’ll need every last one of them if we’re to make it back to my basecamp.”

The elders clearly weren’t accustomed to being given ultimatums, but they didn’t object. From the gate behind the group approached another villager, this one hauling what looked like a large bag made of sackcloth that was stuffed with straw. Looking more closely, George saw that it was a mannequin, a humanoid torso complete with arms and a head, perched atop a wooden stake that would presumably be driven into the ground. It looked like a training dummy for use with bows, perhaps.

The elders set off into the forest, the guards flanking them, George and Tia following behind. They were going away from the wall, probably for fear that the sound of the gunshots would disturb the villagers.

They soon arrived at a clearing, the solitary villager who wasn’t wearing a cloak rushing to set up the dummy maybe a hundred paces away. It wasn’t a difficult shot to make, but George had a feeling that the accuracy of the weapon wasn’t what they wanted to test. The elders drew closer, but not too close, perhaps afraid of the rifle’s imagined power. The only experience they had with the firearm was Tia’s somewhat embellished story about fire and thunder.

“Let us see what this weapon is truly capable of,” the female elder began, clasping her hands together. “If it can truly bring down an abomination, then I wish to witness it for myself.”

George wasn’t sure whether decimating a training dummy was the best show of force, but he began the routine of loading the weapon all the same. His audience watched curiously as he opened up a paper charge, filled the pan, then loaded the barrel. With a couple of firm taps, it was ready to fire, George bracing it against his shoulder as he cocked the hammer. With any luck, he wasn’t about to wipe out the village elders by giving them a heart attack.

“It’s going to be loud,” he warned. “You might want to cover your ears.”

Only one of them took his advice, George shrugging to himself as if to say so be it as he aimed the weapon. With a pull of the trigger, a plume of white smoke and bright sparks erupted from the muzzle, the projectile whizzing downrange. It was chased by a loud bang that shook the trees, sending flocks of birds scattering towards the sky, squawking their alarm. In the blink of an eye, the dummy was torn apart, wrenched from its stand in an explosion of straw and splintered wood.

The villagers watched what little remained of the dummy slump to the forest floor, their wide-eyed expressions suggesting that they had a better appreciation of the weapon now. George planted the butt in the ferns, turning to them, the barrel still smoking.

“Any questions?”

Tia had already explained how the gun worked in terms that they could understand during their first meeting, so there wasn’t much more to be said. They had wanted to see the weapon in action, and now they had.

As he watched, one of the elders began to walk over to the dummy. After examining it for a moment, she proceeded past it, heading to a tree maybe a dozen feet to its rear. George’s face began to warm as he saw that his bullet had continued on, punching a sizable crater in the trunk of one of the ancient trees. He gave Tia a sideways glance and mouthed an apology, feeling like he had just vandalized some ancient monument.

Fortunately, nobody seemed too upset. The elder reached into the hole, fumbling for a moment, then withdrew the bullet. The ball of lead had deformed, the impact squashing it into a thimble shape. She closed her eyes, placing a hand on the gnarled trunk. This time, it was George’s turn to stare wide-eyed as silvery strands of magic began to spread from her fingers. It was just like when Tia had healed her ankle in the blighted forest, that same eerie glow emanating from the gossamer threads. Like a seamstress sewing up a hole in a shirt, the damaged wood knitted back together, leaving it in the same condition that it had been found. The elder returned to his side, dropping the projectile into his outstretched hand.

“We have seen enough, thank you,” she said. “We can now continue our deliberations.”

The elders began to walk back to the village, the guards turning to follow them. The solitary villager hesitated for a moment, glancing first at George, then at his ruined dummy before hurrying after them. George found himself hoping that the man wouldn’t have to make a new one on his account.

“Did that go well?” George asked, Tia turning to glance at him. “I can’t tell.”

“They are a step closer to deciding, which is as much as we can hope for,” she sighed in reply.

“She did that thing you did,” he added. “Did you see that? She used magic to heal the tree that I damaged.”

“The elders are wise in the ways of magic,” she replied. “Notice how she did not exhaust herself as I did, despite her advanced age?”

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding his head. “You collapsed on the spot. It took everything out of you.”

“Since we are already outside the wall,” she began, her tone turning sly. “Shall I teach you some more of magic?”

“Of course,” he replied. He was eager to learn more about her people’s strange powers, even moreso after seeing the elder’s display of skill.

“This way,” she said, bounding off into the ferns. “I know the perfect place to practice.”

After walking through the forest for some time, they came upon another clearing. George had learned to trust his instincts over the last few days, and he was no longer one to ignore gut feelings. As they made their way through the trees, something about this place felt different. The air was so sweet that he felt he could have taken a drink from it, the quality of the sunlight somehow warmer, the blooming flowers that sprouted from the vines that coiled around the trees more abundant. It felt like they were nearing a place of peace, of power. The hairs on his arms were starting to stand on end, every chirping bird and buzzing insect standing out to him against the rustling of the ferns underfoot.

When he followed Tia out from the shade of the canopy, he beheld an incredible sight. In the middle of the clearing was the largest mushroom he had ever seen, so large that it rivaled some of the surrounding trees in size. Its cap was bright red, shining in the sunlight, patterned with white spots. It was a colony, he realized. There were more such crimson caps spread out around its thick base, smaller, but no less impressive. Some were large enough that he could have comfortably used them as a stool.

All around the mushroom, flowers bloomed, seeming to concentrate around its bulbous stem. It was as though a botanical garden had sprouted up in the shade of its immense cap, some of them creeping up its off-white trunk, their vibrant petals swaying in the breeze. Everything that grew near it seemed healthier, larger, more fertile.

It wasn’t just the plants, either. Nestled beneath the mushroom’s gills were beehives, drooping down towards the ground like stalactites in a cave. They swarmed with insects, moving over the yellow honeycomb in a writhing mass, their buzzing audible even from a distance. They seemed to be feeding on the nectar from the flowers below, the overabundance of honey dripping to the ferns like molten gold.

Noticing his hesitation at the sight of the bees, Tia took his hand, tugging him closer.

“Do not be afraid,” she said, guiding him to within arm’s reach of the mushroom. “They will not sting if you ask them not to.”

She reached out towards one of the hanging nests, catching a strand of honey on her finger, the insects paying no attention to her even as they landed on her arm. He expected her to bring the golden droplet to her mouth, but instead, she reached up towards him. He blinked at her, then parted his lips, letting her place it on his tongue. It was sweet, delicious, even. He hadn’t eaten honey since leaving Albion, but he didn’t remember it tasting this good.

“This is a place of great magic,” she explained. “Life coalesces here. You might think of these shrines as the counterpart to the grisly effigies that the Blighters raise.”

“Your people made this?” he asked, marveling at the mushroom’s size once again. He had to resist the powerful urge to swat at the bees. They were landing on his face, on his hands, but they hadn’t stung him so far.

“Grew,” she corrected, nodding her head. “We cultivate them carefully over many decades, feeding them magic, encouraging them. Not just mushrooms. There are many others. Trees, flowers, anything that grows.”

“It’s ... radiant,” he added. “I can feel it.”

“The more you open yourself up to the spirits, the more they will attune themselves to you,” she replied with a smile. “Commune with them.”

He began to ask her what she meant but thought better of it, nodding his head. He sat down in the shade of the mushroom, doing as Tia had advised, clearing his mind of all thoughts. There was a rustle in the ferns as she sat down in front of him, and they joined hands, just as they had the last time. In this peaceful place, George found it easier than ever to quieten his mind, almost as if the spirits here wanted to commune with him. When the breeze ruffled his hair, he could almost imagine that there was an affection to it, the bees serenading him with their gentle buzzing. Everything had intent, everything was purposeful, even seemingly random occurrences. The whisper of the wind, the creak of a branch, the chirp of a bird – these were a language all their own. When raindrops fell or lightning struck, was it merely weather, or was there some unseen purpose behind their actions?

It was so difficult to think of a tree or a cloud as an entity with a will of its own, but the more he tried, the more the strange energies of this place seemed to creep into the periphery of his senses. He could feel them in his veins, in his very breath, like invisible tendrils were reaching past the barrier of his skin. Tia was there, too. She was sitting a foot away from him, yes, but he could feel her presence in a way that he hadn’t before. There was a warmth radiating from her, like the heat from a campfire, but so much gentler.

“Do you feel me?” she whispered, her breathy voice cutting through his concentration like a knife. His heart quickened, and she chuckled, almost as though she could feel it.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But ... in a different way.”

She released his hands, standing up, George opening his eyes to see her smirking down at him.

“Put it to use,” she said, turning her back on him. She stretched her long legs, then hopped on the spot, springing a good foot into the air. When she landed again, the impact made her pert cheeks bounce, just visible beneath her loincloth. “If you can sense my spirit, you should be able to find me.”

“Find you?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She set off, bounding across the clearing. When she reached the trees, she spun around on the spot, laughing as she turned to face him. She beckoned with a finger, then darted into the shadows, George slowly climbing to his feet.

Apparently, she wanted him to chase her...

He followed her into the trees, leaving the magnificent mushroom behind him. Even in its absence, he still felt energized, as though its influence lingered. It was as if a new sense had awakened in him. The more he opened himself to the forest, the more he became attuned to it, like his awareness was expanding beyond the bounds of sight and sound.

The birds in the trees, the worms beneath the soil – he felt their presence. It was as though an aura was emanating from them, a heat that he could feel with something other than his skin. The trees, too, were alive. The ferns, the vines, they all registered in his mind in a way that they hadn’t before.

From somewhere ahead, he heard a rustling, followed by excited giggling. His eyes and ears would only distract him from his new, spiritual landscape. He knew that now. Ignoring his material senses, he tried to focus on Tia, finding that he could feel the same warmth from her that he had felt beneath the mushroom. It was faint, further away, but he found himself drawn to it. The ferns rustled underfoot as he weaved between the trees, shafts of light piercing the canopy above.

As he neared, Tia evaded him, a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye catching his attention. As quick as a flash, she disappeared into the gloom again, his heart starting to race. This was a game, she was teasing him, but she was also teaching him to hone this new skill. She was a more cunning instructor than he had given her credit for.

He turned, pushing through a hanging curtain of flowering vines, hot on Tia’s trail. Again, he caught her scent. At least, that was the closest approximation he could think of. Through the dense woods, he sensed her aura, her glow growing brighter as he drew closer. He gave chase, his heavier footfalls letting her know that he was coming, Tia dancing through the undergrowth like a phantom. She was faster than him, but she couldn’t hide. Not now.

He caught sight of her as she darted behind a tree, her breathy chuckling goading him on. When he rounded the thick trunk, she was gone again, George peering up into the canopy to see her smiling back at him. She was sitting on a branch, her slender legs crossed, the wood obscuring what lay beneath her loincloth from where he was standing. Her hooves bobbed in the air as she laughed at him, clearly reveling in the chase.

With a creak of the branch, she dropped down onto the forest floor, the twenty-foot fall not even slowing her as she pranced away again. She was as quick as any hottah that he had hunted, his blood pumping in his ears as he resumed his pursuit.

Even when he lost sight of her, his new sense kept him on her tail. She flowed through the forest with such ease, the control that she exerted over her body the envy of any gymnast or dancer. She leapt over felled logs only to land as light as a feather, moving so quickly that she scarcely seemed to touch the ground. When she spun mid-jump to glance back at him, her freckled cheeks were flushed red, her green eyes glittering with excitement. This was her domain, and within its bounds, she was wild ... free. George found himself longing for that same sense of freedom – longing for her. He wanted to be a part of this, wanted to share in Tia’s joy, her comely smile guiding him onward like a lighthouse calling a ship to the shore.

Finally, she began to tire, George closing the distance between them. She let out a delighted yelp as he caught up with her, grabbing her by the upper arm and spinning her around to face him. He pressed her up against a nearby tree trunk, trapping her between himself and the bark, their heaving bodies sandwiches together. Her warm breath washed over him as she panted, her chest rising and falling, drawing his eyes to the tantalizing outline of her breasts beneath her fabric collar. Now, it was the heat of her body that stood out to him rather than her aura.

“Such stamina,” she cooed, having to lift her eyes to meet his gaze due to their difference in stature. She was a head shorter than him, the perfume of her flowers blending with the scent of her exertion to create a wonderful new aroma that awakened something primal in George. Her velvet fur was damp with sweat, the droplets glistening as they caught the sunlight that bled through the leaves above. The chase already had him out of breath, hot blood coursing through his veins, an unfamiliar desire welling up inside him that bordered on aggression.

She parted her red lips, moving as if to kiss him, then pulled away as George drew in. Again, she teased him, this time biting his lower lip between her teeth and giving it a gentle tug. He felt as though he was about to erupt like a volcano, her lithe, slender body pressing up against his as he leaned closer.

“Why do you tease me so?” he asked, still short of breath.

“You are so restrained,” she replied, batting her lashes at him. “I sense it in you, like a trapped animal gnawing at the ropes that bind it.” He felt her soft hands slide beneath his shirt, gliding on his damp skin, her touch making his muscles tense. “I want to see if you can break those bonds.”

“Where I come from, men are expected to behave a certain way,” he replied.

“You are not where you came from,” she chuckled. “What is the purpose of a flower? Why does a hottah grow his horns so wide? Why does the waya howl at the full moon?”

He thought for a moment, feeling his face burn.

“Because ... they want to mate?”

“Nature is virile,” she said, her breathy voice morphing into a sultry growl. “Have you never watched the hottah during their rutting season and envied them for their freedom? To love nature is also to love how it propagates, to revel in its carnality, in its primal lust.”

She leaned into him again, and this time, their lips interlocked. Her taste overwhelmed his senses, her hot, smooth tongue entwining with his own as they shared a sordid embrace. Every stroke was imbued with her desire, the gasping breaths that she took between kisses making his heart flutter, her hands cupping his cheeks as she stood on the tips of her hooves to reach him.

After their chase through the woods, their embrace was even more heated than the night before, George feeling like he had contracted some kind of fever. He understood now. This is what she had meant when she had told him that she wanted him to know her better. Her deep connection to nature went beyond simple spiritual beliefs, beyond parlor tricks. She embodied its freedom, its wild proclivities, and only now had he learned enough to partake fully in what she wanted to offer him.

The wild hottah did not restrain himself, so neither would George.

He pressed her tighter against the tree, Tia breaking away from their passionate kiss to let slip a cry of surprise, their lips still joined by a strand of their shared saliva. He brought his face down to the nape of her neck, burying his nose in her silky fur, taking in a lungful of her scent. That blend of floral perfume and sweat was making him crazy, tickling at the back of his brain. Unable – and unwilling – to restrain himself, he gave her a gentle bite on the shoulder that elicited a stifled grunt of anticipation.

George planted the flat of his hand against her torso, just beneath the collar that hung over her heaving breasts, sliding his palm down towards her belt. Her smooth, toned abdominal muscles rose up from beneath her flat belly, tensing reflexively. The skin there was as smooth as glass, lily-white in contrast with the chestnut fur that framed it. She was so receptive to his touch, her spine arching away from the trunk, George feeling her hot breath on his cheek as she sighed.