Fable - Ask Green through the Thumb

[Josai]

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---

Teaching was, still something that was starting to form within Josai's mind. Never quite saw herself as a teacher. Hardly liked taking on assistants and helpers when it came to manning the bar at the knoll.

Yet, she understood the importance of it. Least, she thought she did.

"So, tell me squire," the spear witch started as they hiked out across the Wylds. Hours away from the monastery. Nothing too drastic. But, she would not be too surprised if the squire got turned around. Lost her way back.

Worm rot, Josai herself was likely be turned around and astray, were it not for the maps she kept. And the few tricks she had learned from the more wyld of walkers that called themselves knights.

Oh right. "About yourself," she half laughed. Spear acting every bit a staff as she moved through the trees and the soft earth. "About what you know of magicks, and the wyld," a bit of shadow and thorn in the last of it.

Some theater helped to remember. Least, she thought so anyway. And adjusted the brim of her wide blue hat. Her robes a billowing cloud of brilliant blue against the green and grey of a cool fall day.

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

She was fresh to the lives expected of a squire, only a few months into her education and training. Haelyn was like a sponge, or so she tried to be more absorbent, and spend her free time reading whatever books she could get her hands on. This was not the sort one could learn on their own, at least that was the truth Haelyn had to face. When she expressed her intentions to learn the Pursuit of Death, she was quickly told no and that only burned the boiling pot hotter.

Once she had settled her wits and emotions, she decided on the Wylds.

"It is still all so new to me." She began, eyes trained on her boots and where to place them. Haels wasn't quite cut out for such terrain, not when her life before becoming a squire was cobblestones and grass. "But I know that the Wyld calls to be understood and heard, not to be taken advantage of at the very least."

Haelyn paused a moment before starting her path again. "What's your favourite thing that comes from the wyld, Syr Josai?"

Josai

 

[Josai]

A fresh recruit. Josai thought with wan smile. She might have been the worst person to teach a fresh recruit.

Though, she supposed that the young woman had shown interest in Death, and then chose the Wyld. Well, she supposed she could see the roots to it. The wiring paths that spread through the mantle of their fate.

Or maybe she had just been getting too little sleep again.

She nod to Haelyn's note on the wyld, as the butt of her staff prodded forward. Found the next steps. along their path. She stepped daintily across the stone. Adjusted the bundle that was strapped onto her back. Laughed some.

"An apt summation, Squire," she said and went on with her trek. "Watch that stone there, a bit mossy," she warned, and listened to the question. Gave a hum. "Well, that's a question, isn't it?" she said. Took only a moment to pull an answer from her hat.

"I would say, it is the clear connection of it all," she said with a pleased smile, and came to a stop amidst a clearing. "Where Fire and Loch stand as opposites to one another, as do Life and Death," she said, let the sound of the wind carry through the leaves.

A bit of bird song sounded in the distance. A pause of silence longer. The rustle of critters through the underbrush.

"The Wylds, are connected to all these things, from the proud cone, that sprouts from fire scored earth, to the humble mushroom, that eats away at the death of the forest floor," She turned her eyes onto the squire, spear firm in hand. "Though I guess, if I were to pick one of these facets," she pondered. Nod. "It'd be the shrumps,"

 

[Haelyn]

Haelyn was careful where she tread, feeling as if one wrong step may ruin the habitat of some small creature. She was now very aware of the wilderness around them, the sounds of the Wyld swirling around them from all directions. If she were to destroy something so small, so dainty, would the nature come to claim vengeance upon her?

Or perhaps she should cease reading the dream journals of a past squire that was eager to learn of the Loch. They were such vivid images of the mind.

"Shrumps..." She mulled on the idea, tilting her head as though she heard something. "Never thought of the shrumps..." Because Haelyn truly did not think of the shrumps. "I like the leaves. The full treetops and how they sway and flutter in the strong wind. Do you...." She should know this, but Haelyn believed one's own perception of a Pursuit would differ to others.

"Do you think the wind and the leaves talk to us that way? If that we listen, we would hear the voices of the Wyld?" She was fresh, green, a squire for not too long. Haels would not ask this of her peers, but in Syr Josai, she knew no cruel judgement would be placed on her unawareness.

 

[Josai]

A little laugh sounded from Josai's throat, almost a knock that came from the back of her throat. A thrum. "Good," she said upon hearing the youth's repose. "You aren't shy with your thoughts," she said with a hint of warmth. Ripples come rain across a clear pond. "Wouldn't know how to behave myself if I had to go and tease everything out of you, Squire," she almost laughed, settled on a smile. A nod. "Haelyn," a reminder to herself, more than anything.

Her right hand came up, and tilt up the wide brim of her great blue hat. Through thick dark brows, Josai gazed at the leaves. Saw all the golden light of the sun, speckle through them. Dots of gold against bright green. Set the whole air about them to a dreamy green.

The breeze through the blades, paddles, and combs of needles washed over them like waves. Gentle and easy against the shore.

"I can't see why ever not," Josa said, simple in that way that something new, sometimes simply made perfect sense. "The wind carries much and more upon its currents," there again, the trill of a bird, whose call became the more familiar. "If the songs of birds, and wolves, why not the words of leaves?"

Slow, and with purpose, Josai began to set down the bundle she carried upon her back. Hard woods knocked against stone.

"A question for you, squire," she smiled. "Haelyn," another little reminder as her hands were busy moving fabric here, and setting object there. "Does each leaf have its own voice?"

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

Haelyn found sure footing on the last few feet before coming to a stop, peering down at the bundle being laid out against the stone. She circled around slowly, deep in thought as she pondered the question posed to her.

Her lips skewed, teeth chewing at her lip as she turned her dark eyes skyward to consult the leaves. They rustled in the slight breeze, but the squire listened to the noise on the wind, the different voices she was convinced spoke to her.

"I think at first, they sound the same... but it is a language only those that know how to speak and decipher it that would understand." Hael brought her gaze back down to the Syr, to the bundle on the stone. "Language of the leaves, speaking with different winds of speech... I think." Dark brows knitted together, her expression coming across a little perturbed.

Josai liked that Haelyn spoke honestly, and had not made comment that indicated Haelyn was wrong to think that way.

"Each leaf... I think that would be many voices. I think the leaves now speak as one, and we should listen now."

Josai

 

[Josai]

A pleasant little hum came from the Sworn Knight's throat. A nod. Slow at first. Then faster, with an excited rhythm. "Well, that is a thought, isn't it?" she said, happily. "To each be born with a language shared, only by those who know it, each with its own wind of words, to then, come together, as one, for us to listen," she carefully bent low, and set down her pack.

Her own spear, a support upon which she held to, made from old and treated cedar. Fire hardened. Ash bathed. Oiled and cared for. It was like another part of her now. Its heft, lined with runes, and three charms hung from its winged head. A shard of bone. A black stone, and a single sliver bell. One tied with a string of green, the other with a string of purple, and the last a string of blue.

Her wooden pack, now on the soft earth floor, was made of a dark wood. Finely crafted. It was full of compartments and drawers. Marked with colorful strings and paper charms.

Another relic, of the spear witch.

Without a word, she undid the bundle she had carried. Within it, tools. A willow wand. A rod of pewter. Even a bronze dagger, with fine runes carved into its handle, sheathed in a piece of leather.

Each object felt old. Each object, was lined with power, attuned to the ley. They hummed with a voice all their own. Spoke with a wind, only those who knew how to hear such whispers could sense.

"Our neighbors to the east," Josai started, as she began to organize the old tools neatly upon the cloth. "Have taught, that stone, so too metal, can carry their own words with them," she smiled, and looked up from her bent angle, the wide brim of her hat, angled, just so to hide the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "How do you think, that is?"

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

"Stone..." She spoke, skewing her mouth in thought. "Stone is sturdy. Dense. Their words would be of... bravery?" Her imagination ignited, and the squire crossed her ankles before prettily seating herself and crossing her legs. She reached for a small piece of stone and rolled it between forefinger and thumb.

"Silent, maybe. But I imagine the language of stones are strengthened... and that metal is not too far off from that either. Metal could be..."

Haelyn placed the stone down and now pulled up her sleeve, revealing the simple cuff at her wrist. She flicked it and listened, repeating her actions twice more before she canted her head. "Very quick to defend." Is that why they clash their swords and iron hammers against one another? That the language is of defending, of fight?

"I feel as if I speak of nonsense, Syr Josai. My mother used to say I heard things that no one else hears... but I see no harm in that. What if the trees and the springs spoke to me, told me what was to come?"

Josai

 

[Josai]

"Sturdy, dense," she nodded along. grinned some. "I've dated a few men could be described as such," she laughed. "None I'd right call brave though," she shook the thought away. Blinked and remembered herself. Went on listening to the young squire.

A quirk upon her lip, as well as her brow. One hand still about the tall shaft of her spear, which she leaned against some as she squat low. Hunched as she eyed the tools set before the squire.

Three charms hung from the head of Josai's spear. A bell of silver, tied by blue string. A jaw bone, tied by green string, and a black obsidian orb, tied by purple string. All three remained still. Quiet.

"Often, those who do not hear the languages of those things around us, cannot begin to understand what the world might be whispering," she smiled, a wistful and small thing there beneath the brim of her wide hat.

Almost a mushroom herself, bundled low near to the ground. Her fingers reached out and spread across the soft earth. Pressed pads into the soil. Felt the green blades of wild grass and the soft rounds of clover leaves there underneath.

"If the world whispers you a secret, then it has trusted you with it," she looked up to the squire. Her pupil, for this outing. "What would you do, if the trees and their roots, and the springs with their streams, told you what came next?"

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

Haelyn considered this, pondered on the different things she could be entrusted with by the surroundings nature. Why would they trust her? She was inexperienced, but she always trusted in the safety the earth gave. Perhaps they recognised her, from her childhoods spent running through trees, herself playing busy kitchens on the dirt. Haelyn recalled making mud cakes and learned to sew leaves together with long blades of grass, collecting the drops of water from the leaves and dew from the grass. She remembered collecting acorns and spelling out each name of her own and her friends that played with her.

Did the trees in different forests speak to others?

"I would trust in the Wyld in return." She surmised. "I always have. That shall not change now." Haelyn gave Josai a shy smile.

Josai

 

[Josai]

A slow nod came from the wide-capped witch.

"A green heart then," she said with a gentle smile.

Had her own heart been so, once?

The bone charm that hung from her spear rattled against the black sphere of obsidian.

"Very well," she welcomed, and sat down before the instruments she had so carefully laid out before them, motioned to them with an upturned hand. The blue sleeves of her robe, trailed behind her long fingers, like a shroud of mist.

"Placed before you are magical foci," her smile widened as she brought her hand back into her lap. "Tools, meant to help one feel and channel the lines of magick that are woven into the world around us," her eyes came back up to Haelyn, and there was a welcoming calm, there across Josai's face.

"We are not bound to our tools, but like a carpenter, or a mason, we magickers might find some, more welcomed by our hands than others," The breeze stirred, and the silver bell tied to her spear chimed soft. Proud to be where it was.

 

[Haelyn]

Haelyn stared at the instruments, wondering just how they would work in the way Syr Josai spoke.

"So... these would be tools to help me with..." Haelyn went quiet, hoping Josai would fill in her blanks, but was met with an expectant look. "To help me hone in with the Wyld." Even that had been vauge.

She sighed, letting a hand go to lightly brush against the closest instrument in hopes it would inspire her with appropriate words. "Well, I expect there would a different instrument to help with an assortment of things to do with the Wyld. Is that correct, Syr Josai?"

Brown eyes turned wide, innocent and accepting of whatever lessons she was learning today. Taken away from the other squires, she felt more focused and willing to do well instead of falling into the known irritable mood she adopted at the monastery. Here, she could afford with being serious and studious.

Josai

 

[Josai]

Josai listened to the squire's words. Her thoughts given speech.

So hungry for answers. But the Spear Witch gave only a smile in return. Remembering all those mentors she had had in years long past.

Answers given freely, bore shallow roots. Answers worked for, dug into fertile soil. Gave more fruit, come the time for harvest.

Still, she would listen. Watch. Pay heed to the isms and movements of the young knight prospective.

So when her hand touched the first tool, and she bade a new question, Josai went on, but smiling. A mirror to be reflected upon.

"Is that what their voices tell you, Haelyn?" she asked, no judgment in her voice. No hint of right or wrong. "That the wyld is there, to be categorized and tooled to, like soil to a hoe? A field to a plow?"

She let her words linger a moment, as the wind blew her dark curls against her tawny gold complexion. The bone charm, tied to its green string, rattled against the elm wood shaft of the Witch's tall winged spear.

"Does the axe speak to the leaves? Do the roots guide the dagger?"

She could not help her in this. For the tools spoke their own language, and it was the wielder who need hear the voice.

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

It was almost overwhelming having to figure the particular answers she was being asked, but Haelyn felt no pressure to be determined right. The squire reached out, taking a hold of what looked like a thick knitting needle made of malachite. It was connected by a thread to a bell made of green tourmaline, a stone Haelyn recognised straight away from her study books.

With each in hand, Haelyn felt an overwhelming wash of connection, as if her ears pricked to the gentle winds. She winced, grimaced, whimpered in discomfort but it only lasted a few seconds before it faded out and the squire was listening with sharpness. She felt like a falcon waiting to hear a scurry in the brush, eager to set out in flight to catch.

Haelyn brought the malachite stick to strike against the tourmaline bell, something she thought ought to belong in a castle's gallery or set on display for it's deep greens that reminded Haelyn of the foliage above. Leaves in the shade, the sun now hiding behind cloud cover. Her eyes peered upwards, to her left, over her right shoulder and behind. Sound traveled, ringing in the distance, and Haelyn could swear she could sense the babbling brooks and the twitters of rose finches in the distance. The tools in her hand broadened her ears, but Haelyn Kiran forgot to listen in her excitement.

She tolled thrice, closing her brown eyes to hear the wylds speak to her.

She gasped, smiling, astounded. "The rose finches, they have returned home. I can hear them ponder what and where to make a nest... the hollow in the elm tree or the berry bushes."

Josai

 

[Josai]

Josai's eyes watched, full of curiosity as the squire made her choice. The youth's dainty hands took up the malachite rod.

The witch's smile widened, and she gave a pleased nod from beneath the shade of her brimmed hat as the tourmaline bell came next off the soft and blanketed earth.

How the wind blew, and how its gentle whisper murmured secrets into their ears. Raised the hairs across their skin, made the shock of black curls that flowed about her face splay and fan as the proud steeple of her hat danced its lazy dance with the breeze.

Come the strike of the bell, and it was as if all the voices of the wylds joined in the wind's confidence. The colors of the crystalline stone bloomed out. Painted themselves across the blades of grass, the scales of bark, the needles of pines and the broad span of proud leaves.

How the branches creaked. How the birds sang, and the critters scurried and ran across thistle and branch.

Again, and again came the strike of the bell. Bright and true with each blow. More and more of the wylds words would come to her.

Words Josai had heard, and words she had not. Words meant for all, just as words meant only for Haelyn, who tolled the bell.

An obvious pride glittered in the warm darkness of Josai's gaze. Mingled there with a mourning.

There was as much death in this youth, as there was life. For the stones, and those things born from them, knew the weight and crush of the end.

But she would not let that come to words now. That was a lesson that need come when its time arrived. Not a gust sooner. Not a birdsong later.

"And so you have found your tool, Squire Haelyn," she said, sure as she bowed her head to the youth. "The Bell," and her own bell chimed clear and singular against the obsidian sphere that hung from the neck of her proud spear. "Careful as you bring about its toll," she warned. "For the bell marks ceremony, the bell marks importance, it cries out to all that can hear, and makes plea for their attention," she said, and closed her eyes as she sat there, knelt and low to the earth. She reached out with her hands, and pressed her fingers into the soil, soft and full of more promise than any blade of grass could hope for.

The songs of the birds about them morphed. Slowed and warped. Each sound which once whispered to them, seemed to pass through a haze of honey. Magick, called about them by the bell. Thick as pollen from the poplar trees.

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

Haelyn opened her eyes as Josai spoke, the dark browns in her hues a reflection of the warmest tree bark found in these parts. Birdsong was not quite the same as she heard it before; muffled, perhaps, or even distance... slowed... changed... Haelyn tipped her head as if to adjust her ability to listen.

Something disturbed the forest floor, snapping twigs and crunching on foliage from behind Josai. Footfalls heavy, the air seemingly quiet despite Haelyn's ears pricked to hear the call of the Wylds. Haelyn stared at a point just past Josai before her, sucking in a shallow breath. Golden yellow eyes glinted, half covered from the brush, and Haelyn dared not to divert her gaze.

"Are you a friend? Have you heard the call?" The squire spoke softly, not making anymore movement. The feline stepped out, circling around the two, analysing the young one. Haelyn slowly tapped the daggered wand on the earth between herself and the lynx. Friendly. It was a simple communication, filled with passive expression that the feline came to sit and stare at her.

Now, the squire smiled, not showing teeth to her new friend. "I am Haelyn, and this is Syr Josai." The smile fell slightly, listening again. The squire tried to hear without the aide of the daggered malachite, to rely on her trust in the Wyld.

Small and scrawny, little thing.

The lynx commented.

 

[Josai]

Josai squint. Here eyes full of suspicion as the cat approached, and her nose scrunched some. Almost seemed to wiggle as she tightened her fist.

A cat.

That the squire's bell had called forth such a creature. Josai eased back into her own skin. Felt the tension leave her hands as the youth tapped the sounds of safety and welcome unto the earth. Friend. The thumps said. And her face smoothed its worries away.

The cat, a proud lynx, came to sit, and Josai bowed her head whence she was introduced.

But, just as the squire had fallen into Silence, so too would Josai. For the language of cats was one of subtleties. Gestures. But most importantly, respect.

And it was not Josai who had bade the call.

So sensitive a creature, the Lynx surely knew that. Attuned to life, the wylds, and death, as all cats were.

 

[Haelyn]

"It called me scrawny." Haelyn blinked. Where the lynx was not wrong, it made Haelyn shrink a little.

That I did. The lynx's shortened tail flicked, and once more before adjusting their stance on their large paws. I thought the young would learn to eat their fill and become strong.

Haelyn kept the surprise from her face, but a sense of triumph and marvel could be felt in her. She had communicated with the Wylds, and now a guest came to speak to the young squire.

She dared to look to Josai again, stifling a smile.

"I fell ill, my family did not survive, but I did. No one else could afford to care for me, and so I will serve with the Order." Haelyn fidgeted with the malachite wand, carefully running a finger just shy of the makeshift blade. "You are right. I should eat more." She agreed, sheepishly.

But Haelyn was nervous when it came to eating. It made her guilty, made her feel as if she were taking this for granted. She was still adjusting to her new life.

But you have adapted well, little thing. You hear the birds, the leaves, the seeds growing in the earth. A natural for the Wylds, and your call caught me with curiosity...

Josai

 

[Josai]

Josai's hand kept hold of her spear. It's proud wings splayed out above them, shone silver with the light of early day.

A nod of acknowledgment from the witch. For those truths spoken, and those secrets given.

"And so, the words exchange," the sworn knight gave her voice to the ceremony. The ritual. "Betwixt those things of Wyld heart and Wyld soul, each in there own place, each connected," the jaw bone tied by its green twine rattled against the elm-wood shaft.

Still. Amidst the pool of her thoughts, so tuned to the Loch as the Spear Witch was, she could not help but wonder.

"Brother Lynx," the blue stringed bell chimed its silver persuasion. "What might sate your curiosity?" she spoke, yet her eyes remained fixed. upon the soil. The mulch. Her gaze shaded by the wide brim of her blue hat.

Haelyn

 

[Haelyn]

The lynx watched the Knight, head not moving to do so, but tail still swishing. Such a strong connection for one so lost and young. I, too, live a solitary life due to circumstances not in my control. Perhaps, the little thing would like a Guardian of the Wyld?

Although spoken to Josai, Haelyn was able to hear, still on that same frequency the wand was channeling. With it close to her, she was able to be part of the conversation. "A Guardian?" Surprise came to settle on her facade, until her brows knitted together in thought. "And what does a Guardian of the Wyld do for someone like me?" Haelyn's own curiosity rose.

It is not only birds and squirrels and rabbits in these parts, little thing. There are some nefarious things out there that masquerade as such, but their trickery can be costly. You may have been lost in the forest before, have struck conversation with the trees, but some woods remember better than others, and they still talk after all these years. The lynx seemed to smile, but in the way that felines do. There was no chipperness to it, nor any sign of pleasantries, just that look a cat would wear when looking at a mouse.

"But I would kn---" She shut her lips tightly, pursing them. Of course not, she was no avid listener of the Wyld. It was a defensive argument she'd wish to make, but the cunning lynx would prove her wrong. That would not make Haels happy if it were to happen.

No doubt about yourself, little thing, but you are still that, Little. The lynx now moved, stretching low and exercising his paws, and how sharp his claws were. There are those of us that wish to protect the Wyld, and those that will one day help defend it alongside us. Is that not a handsome offer, little thing? Ask of your Knight Mentor.

Josai