Lament of the Lost

Honestly, that one, [Spatial Domain], was weird, making me a tad dizzy as I made my way through the forest back to the ruins. Never in my life have I been so aware of my surroundings. Sure, with my sails for ears, I could hear the rats scratching in the walls on the other side of the cellar, but this was on a whole other level. Within five meters of me, the weave made me aware of every leaf, every twig, every fold of bark on the trees - even on the other side of the trunks I sure as heck couldn’t see.

As I said, the whole domain thing was weird and quite overwhelming, yet somehow... familiar, for lack of a better word. 

It was like something I had long forgotten was coming to me, or better yet, like two things had just clicked into place. You know, like when you stop focusing on your steps while dancing and just let the rhythm of the music take you.

Not that dancing was my thing. I liked it; I just wasn’t good at it - to put it mildly.

All of which, by the way, was quite apt about my running through the forest as well. Seeing where I was stepping and being aware of each root better than ever before certainly helped, but with [Equilibrium] among my weaves, I moved through the trees with an ease that couldn’t compare to my nightly frantic run. Not knowing better, I’d say I was dashing on a well-prepared track with sneakers on my feet.

• 1st glyph engraved on Equilibrium (⦿)
• 1st glyph engraved on Spatial Domain (⦿)
• 2nd glyph engraved on Equilibrium (⦿)

Yeah, the first glyphs were always the easiest ones to get. But reading those notifications was a blast compared to those in my cellar past.

‘Shit, there already!’

Before long, familiar stone structures appeared out of the rising mist in the forest ahead of me.

Stopping behind one of the trees, I rechecked the shackles on my left leg, immediately berating myself for doing so now that I had [Spatial Domain]. Nevertheless, the need to see it with my own eyes aside, the chain was still firmly tucked in behind the iron of the shackles, tearing at my skin.

Reassured, a bit nervous, and fighting off a gnawing hunger, I cautiously stepped out of the safety of the tree’s shade. Crouched down, my ears alert for the faintest hint of an ambush, I moved slowly forward, one light step at a time, from one shadow of the tree to the next. Soon I stood at the foot of the old walls, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. So far, no sign of an ambush. In fact, it sounded like the old man was gone, along with his wagon and mares.

With the breath caught in my throat, I didn’t let the notion settle - first; I had to see it to believe it.

Deftly swinging myself over the old stone windowsill, I stepped into a small room - an empty one, save for the moss-covered rubble. Then I slipped through the door into another and then another. It took me a while, as this building had obviously been no small establishment, but I inspected every half-demolished room I could find before I mustered enough courage to enter the one where the old merchant had camped yesterday.

And well...he was truly gone.

There was nothing left but the remains of his campfire in the old fireplace, some horse dung in the corner, and tracks left in the moss from the wagon. That and a small bundle left on a sizable rock, partially cleaned of moss.

‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit. So, he did see me... I mean, of course, he did.’

The old man was staring right at me just before I ran off into the forest. So...what the bloody heck did the message mean? There, under the bundle, were words scrawled on by a charred twig:

[I’ll be passing through again in three days.]

Sure, there was still a tiny chance that the message wasn’t meant for me but for some friend of the old man. After all, I’ve been wrong about this place before, and even if it didn’t look the part, it might be quite frequented. In fact, this acquaintance of his could be passing through here at any moment. Though it begged the question, why not wait for them, or would they not meet halfway?

‘No, he wrote it for me to read.’

It just didn’t make sense that he would do it for any other reason, and a damn coincidence that his trademark doodled under the text would resemble me. Sure, it was something a five-year-old would draw, but the circle was undoubtedly my head, the three dots inside my eyes and nose, the triangles on the sides my big ears, and the two lines on top my little antlers.

‘Kind of cute, but...’

The simple execution aside, it was almost frightening all the old man had managed to see and remember in that brief moment under the dim, dying light of his fire. Come to think of it, perhaps it was a quirk of his profession, or more precisely of his array - some kind of weave that enhanced his memory, sight, and sharpness. Either that or the sight of me was so unforgettable.

‘Not sure if I should be annoyed or flattered.’

Wait... did he see my bare ass running away to the forest, too? Was that why he remembered me? Well, if so, I was glad it was my mug he drew on the rock. Speaking of which, my eyes fell on the bundle placed on top of it.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t big, about the size of an apple. But who would wrap an apple in cloth?

No matter how hard I racked my brain, all that came to mind was what could happen if I took the bundle, not what it might actually be. The rag could be poisoned, soaked with a sedative, or the bundle itself could be a trigger, and the moment I picked it up, a net would shoot out of the ground, or a giant rock ball would roll out at me. I blamed all those movies I saw back on Earth and my vivid, imaginative mind craving for more stimulation than the four walls of the cellar.

Nirrvash

Enjoy!

Anyway, the package.

After thinking it over and a bit of looking around - no net buried under the moss - I made enough distance and dashed to the stone. A good two meters in front of it, I flapped my wings and took to the air in a leap, taking the bundle on the fly, somewhat literally, and made it to safety, landing in a roll on the ground before any mechanism could catch me.

Quite to my disappointment, the rock remained a rock, and I proved to be the skittish fool.

Anyway, with who I was annoyingly clarified, it was time to see what the bundle contained.

‘Was it a gift?’

‘Or the trap? A smoke bomb?’

‘Maybe just a rock?’

‘A prank?’

Well, it turned out to be a sweet bun.