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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 32
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 13:00:05 +0000 UTCTibs planted the sword into the last snake’s head and sliced it off the body. Merka’s disgusted scream didn’t make him feel better as he
Tibs planted the sword into the last snake’s head and sliced it off the body. Merka’s disgusted scream didn’t make him feel better as he fell to a knee from exhaustion and the essence and blood he’d lost from his injuries. He had plenty of life essence left, but water also leaked out, and that weakened him. He’d pulled in some from around him as he walked, but without being able to put splints over his injuries, now that Firmen had gotten wise to him doing that, he couldn’t do was faster than he lost it.
Merka’s use of Metal in her previous attack had saved Tibs. He’d run through it to finish the boss. It had cost him his armor and clothing, but among the caches he hadn’t bothered emptying was one with pants and another with a shirt.
“If you can’t make it out,” Firmen said dispassionately, and reminding him the run wasn’t over, “Merka still wins.”
He pushed to his feet. “So long as nothing’s changed since I cleared those halls, I’ll be fine.”
Remaining vigilant was difficult, and quickly felt like wasted time when nothing happened, but he didn’t trust Merka not to have talked Firmen in making deadly changes. He collected the pants and shirt, leaving the tatters of his clothing behind once he changed into the rough worker’s clothing.
He made it to the exit without incident. And considered the sword and shield as Firmen opened the shelf holding his bracers.
“Can you keep them for when I come back?”
“Why not keep them like you did before?”
“I’m going to be gone for a while and I don’t have a chest in my camp. I don’t feel like burying them. You can reassure Merka that I’ll be back.”
“Why aren’t coming back once you’ve rested?” a trunk on each side opened and revealed a space to take them.
“I’m heading back to the village before they think I died.” Once they were stored, he put his bracers on. “They think I’m a hunter, so a few days in the wilderness is fine. More than that and I’ll have to justify what I was up to. Joman’s already stubborn about not believing anything I say.”
He stepped out and applied purity etchings over his injuries.
“That is one of the people there?”
“The man I rescued from you.”
“Is distrust how people react to being saved?”
“Not usually. Normally they’re grateful. But fear can do strange thing to them, and you really scared Joman.”
At his camp, he gathered the skins and dug out the pin, studying how worn it now looked; after the little corruption he’d applied did its work. Then he considered the broken bow. It hadn’t survived the boss fight, and he’d almost forgotten it there. Was it worth bringing those back? He saw nothing that might distinguish them from other bows, but maybe the owner’s family would?
Because it was simple enough to carry them among the rest of what he was bringing back, he did so. He considered heading out immediately even if he was tired, and the sun was doing down. He decided on sleep when he failed at rebuilding the etching over his brand.
That, he couldn’t afford to mess up.
*
It was full dark when he woke. Using essence let him speed through the trees, so that it was still so when he approached the village’s gate after making sure the brand was properly hidden.
“Who goes there?” the guard demanded. She sounded more scared than authoritative.
“Tyborg, I’m back from hunting.” He stopped at the edge of the brazier’s light so she could confirm who he was.
She stepped back, lowering her spear. “You’re dead.”
So much for not having to explain himself. “No. I was hunting.” He patted the hides. “Brought something for the leathersmith. You have one, right?” a blacksmith was never certain, but every village he’d been to had a someone working leather.
“Neago.” She shook herself and her tone turned aggressive. “What are you?”
He sighed. “A hunter who spent days in the forest. I’m no apparition or creature. I just like being on my own.”
“No one survives the forest at night, not more than one.”
Tibs didn’t think much of the village’s hunters if they were that scared. They’d have to walk for half a day to reach Firmen. If they feared anything closer, then that was just them not preparing properly.
“I’ve earned my living hunting for weeks before I’d return to my town.” The exasperation came by itself. “I can handle a few nights here. Can I go in? I want to wash.” He’d encrusted himself and his clothing with dirt, on top of what he’d gained doing the run. Now, it had moved in places that were uncomfortable and he wanted to soak.
“I—” she faltered. “I guess I can’t stop you.”
He could have done without the fear in her voice, but that was permission. He hoped Mother Natril wouldn’t be so difficult. He had left her a note explaining he’d be hunting.
There was light in the tavern, so he stopped in. The barkeep and one of the two other occupants stared at him. The sleeping drunk at the end of the counter didn’t stir.
He placed the hides on the counter before the barkeep, who stepped back. “I’m told Neago works leather. These are for them.”
The man eyed them fearfully.
“I didn’t die,” Tibs said, barely unclenching his teeth. “I’m not some apparition. I was just out hunting. Now I’m back. I’m tired and I’m dirty.” The one good thing about the tavern being empty was that Joman wasn’t here to make his life more difficult.
The other occupant rose from her table. “What animal are these?” She smelled of lye and the other things leather workers needed to use to treat the leather.
“Mostly rabbit, with a badger and a wolf.”
She tensed, but didn’t move away. “What do you want in return?” The question was tentative.
“Peace and quiet would be nice,” Tibs grumbled. She stared at him in confusion. “If I bring more, can you make me a few sets of jerking and shirts? These are my last. The wolf ripped my other one.”
“You….” She looked him over warily. “Seem whole.”
Right, he couldn’t have been in them when it happened. He smiled sheepishly. “I’d hung them after I washed the blood from killing the rabbits. I must not have done a good enough job, and it must have thought they were hiding in it.” He shrugged. “I got a pelt out of it, but lost clothing.”
Her nod was tentative. “There isn’t enough here for what you want.”
“I’m here until the next caravan. I’ll be hunting often. You tell me what you want, and I’ll find it.”
“Bear?”
He barely stopped himself from agreeing. “I’d like to survive the attempt.” He should have slept longer. It would have meant returning during the day, but maybe dealing with Joman would have been less annoying than this.
“Unless you bring me large animals, what I’ll make you will be patchwork.”
He shrugged. “I just need them to protect me from low branches and bramble. I don’t care what it looks like.”
She reached for the skins. “Can I?”
“They’re yours.” He turned and stopped. “I’m forgetting.” He unclipped the broche and placed it on the counter. “I found this partially buried. I figure it belonged to one of those who got lost in the forest.” He added the bundle of bow pieced. “Same with that, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to figure out whose it was broken like this.
He left before the barkeep could comment, heading for the tub in Mother Natril’s barn and a warm soak before sleep.
*
Mother Natril chastised Tibs for leaving in the night with nothing more than scribbles on paper as soon as she saw him the next morning. If he didn’t tell her to her face next time he left her to do all the work, he could look for another place to stay.
He promised to tell her next time, and was both annoyed at himself and amused. He’d taken for granted she’d know her letters. Too much time among scholars, merchants and books. Even when traveling with the caravans, other than the guards, those who’d interacted with the caravan master had to know letters and numbers since the agreements on how the stay would be were always in writing.
She fed him, then set him to work.
*
Three days, Tibs worked the farm with her other workers, without his watcher. They kept as far from him as the work allowed. If they needed to interact, it was with fear and apprehension.
Then Joman was there, spying on him out of the corner of the building. Tibs decided that if the man didn’t get bored and leave on his own, he’d have to do something about him.
*
He stepped into the tavern early because this was when he knew Joman would be there. Three more days, Tibs had tolerated his presence at the edge of his work. Now, he had enough.
He stepped among the others, who hurried out of his way and stopped before Joman’s table. “It’s time we talked.”
His woman looked at Tibs fearfully.
“Then talk,” the man replied, straightening triumphantly, while his voice carried suspicion.
“It’s best we have this talk without anyone listening in.”
The man smirked. “You can tell me whatever you have to say before these folks.” He shrugged his woman’s hand off when she placed it on his.
Tibs leaned in and lowered his voice. “You don’t want us to have this conversation with them around. You’ve been telling them stories and making my life difficult. So I’m going to explain to you the consequences of your actions.”
His woman gasped.
He hadn’t meant to come off this threatening. “I won’t hurt him. I give you my word.” His words didn’t reassure her, but it was the best he had. “Are you coming?” he asked the man. “Or do you want to keep doing this until I lose my patience and act instead of talk?”
This time, she grabbed his hand as he stood, but he shook it off. Tibs left the tavern with Joman in tow.
The guard watched them, concerned, but didn’t stop them. When Tibs stepped off the path, Joman stopped. Afraid? No longer certain of the wisdom of his actions? As Tibs expected, the man hurried to catch up. Wisdom had long ago stopped being something he listened to.
The clearing he picked kept the village within his sense. He didn’t expect anyone to come searching, but he wanted the warning if he was wrong. He sat at the foot of a large tree and waited.
Joman stepped in and looked around, confused. He straightened and glared at Tibs. “This is where you want to talk?”
Tibs wondered what the man had been imagining. “What do you want?” he asked instead of satisfying his curiosity.
Joman frowned.
Tibs had considered multiple ways to deal with the man. He could easily make him vanish the next time he followed Tibs into the forest. He could use essence to make him doubt his senses, cause others to doubt him until nothing he said was trusted, until they thought he was daft. If he wanted to, Tibs could make him daft. He didn’t have Mind as an element, but there were sicknesses of the head that affected how people thought. How little corruption in there, until Joman couldn’t think properly.
But he didn’t want any of those outcomes.
Maybe this was Wood still affecting him. Some remnant from when he’d channeled her; not that it had happened with the other elements. Or she had given him a different perspective on the situation.
Tibs wanted to help Joman move past this.
“I want you to tell them what happened,” he commanded.
“That I rescued you?”
He pointed to the trees. “That there’s something out there. They think my time out here made me daft. That I’m touched in the head. They need to know it’s real!”
“And then what?”
Joman seemed to have trouble understanding. The words came out hesitatingly. “What do you mean?”
“I go in the tavern. I tell them that yes, some vast creature caught you and played games with you. Then what?”
“Then they know I told the truth,” he said as if it was self evident. “That they—that I— that we need to go kill it! Make it pay for what it did to me!”
“And then what?”
Joman looked at him, confused.
“You convince the villagers, your friends, to take up arms, march through the forest. And then what?”
“Then we kill it!”
“And then what?”
“What do you want from me!” Joman screamed. “What are you doing? Why are you confusing me like that? It’s out there. It can’t be allowed to be!”
He let the man catch his breath. Gave him time to bring his full attention back to Tibs. “I want to know why you’re so set on hurting your woman.”
“I’m not hurting her,” he snapped. “I’m doing this to protect her. All of them!”
“Is that what she wants?”
“When you tell her about it, she’s going to want it gone too!”
“Even if it that takes you from her?”
“Why would it…. What would you….”
“You’re talking about marching out into the forest toward….” He frowned. “Where is it?”
“You’ll take us there.”
He nodded. “I take all of you there and then…there’s something. Some creature that’s far away from everyone. Do you know what animals do when you disturb them? They fight back. You get hurt. People die.”
“It’s not an animal,” Joman snarled. “I heard you talking to it.”
He’d been afraid of that. But Tibs had a workable explanation. “I spend weeks hunting in forest, alone. It doesn’t take long that I’m talking to trees.”
“But…. There’s something in there.” Joman’s tone lost its certainly.
“Maybe.”
“Are you saying there is…. Or that there isn’t?”
“I’m saying that I don’t know.” He’d hoped not to have to bring them up. “Do bards come this way?”
“Sometimes,” Joman said, sounding confused, “with the caravans.”
“First,” Tibs said, his voice hard, “most of that they sing about is bullshit.” He reined in his anger. “But some? There are things out there we can’t understand. There are adventurers who have magic, not that they’ll help you unless there’s something in it for them. There are people who know so much about the world they think they know everything. And there are things out in the wilderness that… I don’t think anyone can ever understand.”
“So what I….”
“Maybe? I don’t know what happened to you, Joman. All I know is that your woman came to the tavern, terrified something had happened to you. Desperate for anyone to go looking. I didn’t want her to go on not knowing if there was a chance I could find something to tell her what had happened to you. I found your trail, followed it, and then found you. I brought you back to her.”
“And the caravan left you for dead.”
He shrugged. “There’ll be another one.”
“It killed others,” Joman said, but without force.
“Maybe. I don’t know what happened. I found that broche while hunting, and pieces of a bow, but I can’t know what happened. This is a large forest with many animals, and at least one bear. Some wild cats and wolves grow quite large. When they’re hungry, they’ll attack anything. The forest is dangerous even for hunters how are ready for what we think’s there. It’s deadly for those who aren’t prepared.”
Joman slumped. “So they’re right? I made it up?”
“You tell me.”
He glared at Tibs. “You are really confusing.”
He smiled. “You have no idea how often I get that. But if there’s a creature out there or not. If it’s killed others or not. Do you really want to sacrifice what you have for something you might never be able to get? I know how that goes—” he snapped his mouth shut, but Joman was looking at him, curiosity etched on his face.
He sighed. There was no avoiding talking about it, now that he’d let that slip. “I…chased something impossible, once. I lost the friends I had because of it.” He rubbed his left forearm. “I had to force my brother to leave me. If he’d come with me, they would have killed him. I could have kept them, still have it all, but I couldn’t stop chasing it. They tried to get me to stop, but I was obsessed with being right. I’d done too much already, so I couldn’t fail. Not me.”
He looked at Joman. “And here I am, alone.” He shrugged. “I can’t stop you. If you’re determined to find that creature, nothing I say will stop you. But please remember you have people who don’t want to lose you. You have a woman who loves you. You have friends. Don’t throw them away just because you think there’s something out there more important than them. There isn’t. There is nothing more important than the people who care about you.”
“Can you go back to them?”
He shook his head and forced himself to still the hand. “What I did is too big. I’ll never be safe for them to be around me. Not until I’ve finished what I started.”
Joman stared at him in horror. “You didn’t stop?”
Tibs shrugged. “What else do I have left?”
