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Momo leaned up against the tree in front of them. It was strangely warm to the touch, and she turned her hand around to look at her palm. It was red with heat.
“Why’d you stop?” Cameron asked. He had discarded his thick coat a few yards back, hanging it on a couple extended branches like a coat rack. Momo noticed that his clothing was still finely pressed and tailored to his toned body.
“Balin did,” she said. “He’s talking again.”
“How close?”
“Don’t talk loud,” she said.
Cameron leaned up against the closest tree and sighed as he rummaged through his pockets for a cigar. “Band of lemmings running off a cliff,” he muttered, placing the cigar in his mouth. He patted the back pocket on his pants for his lighter.
“There is something dangerous,” Momo said. “In the forest.”
“No kidding,” Cameron muttered with the cigar in his mouth. “It reeks of blood.”
“Hmm?” Momo said, facing him. “What you say?”
“It smells like blood,” he said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and waving it around as he spoke. “You know, that metallic copper-like smell? You don’t smell it?”
Momo tapped her nose. It had been crushed years ago in battle, and she never had the desire to see a medic about it. Medics were for keeping soldiers alive, not putting bandages over boo-boos. It wasn’t all terrible. She caught faint smells.
“It’s faint, but it’s there,” he said, flicking the lighter and applying the flame to his cigar. “What do you think caused it?”
“Wait,” Momo said, shaking her head. She placed a hand onto the cigar’s end to put out the embers but then she found herself yelping at the sharp pain that went into her hand. She didn’t completely know what a cigar was, only that the commanding officers sometimes celebrated with them. She knew that it had a very distinct smell though.
“What?” Cameron asked.
“Put it up,” she said, clasping her hands tight together. “It smells.”
“I thought you couldn’t smell anything.” Momo unsheathed her blade in one swift movement, and Cameron backed away, throwing the cigar to the ground and stomping it out. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Hey, I thought you said you didn’t have a weapon.”
“Down!” she ordered, and he ducked underneath a swing so swift and heavy that he screamed, thinking he had been cut in two. A roar from behind paralyzed him, and then he saw Momo sailing through the air. Her back slammed into a tree, and her arms landed over a couple of thick branches, as if they were waiting to catch her all along.
Cameron spun around to see a living being that was certainly not from the three communities. It was like an ogre. It was at least twice his size in height and width. Its nose was bulbous and stuck out so far that it made its eyes beady, like black marbles. Its grey and black teeth were jagged and sticking out in different directions, and it hunched over so low that he could see the hair on its back, standing like grass on a hill.
“Oh,” was all he could say as he stepped backwards. The creature sniffed the air and then looked down at him. “Uh, Momo?” Cameron said, looking back at her. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the tree branches lifting her upwards, towards the canopy of red-yellow leaves up above. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Work with what you’ve got.”
He cleared his throat and turned to the creature. “Can you go get my friend? She didn’t mean to harm you.”
The creature gave him a puzzled look, and then Balin stepped out from behind it, smiling as if he was bearing gifts. “You’re from Musgrave, right?” Balin asked.
Cameron wiped the sweat from his brow as he glanced back at where Momo was ascending. Surprisingly, she was no longer there, and the branches were swaying back and forth as if they were checking its invisible bark pockets.
Okay, he said to himself. Just stall.
“I was,” he said, knowing that Musgrave had a bad reputation to everyone outside of it. “I’m trying to rid myself of the stigma.”
“I don’t really care,” Balin said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m just making conversation until Felixare decides what to do with you.”
The creature glared at Cameron like a bird would to a snack far below. Suddenly, the creature picked up Cameron by his arms and carried him over to the tree that Momo had previously been held up in. He flailed and struggled but the creature’s inhuman strength kept him from wiggling free.
“Hungry,” the creature bellowed in a thick voice that sounded like he was gargling mud.
“I told you,” Balin said.
Told him what? Cameron wondered. He kicked at the creature’s nose and grazed it, but to no avail. Suddenly, the creature screamed in agony as Cameron fell to the ground on his back, having been freed. The creature had lost an arm, and Momo was now standing between them with sword in hand. She cocked both of her arms back as they rested on the hilt. She prepared to javelin the blade into the creature’s neck.
“Wait!” Cameron cried out suddenly, and he saw Momo freeze. He didn’t know what came over him, but something instinctively told him that killing this monster would cause more harm than good. He noticed that in the brief scuffle, Balin had taken off.
Momo relaxed her shoulders, but she kept her grip on her sword tight as Cameron climbed to his feet. The creature whimpered and nursed the site of his lost limb, but Cameron noticed that the wound had already closed off, preventing anymore loss of green blood.
“Hey,” Cameron addressed it. “I’m sorry about that. It was only because you attacked us first.” The creature sniffled and looked around for Balin. When he couldn’t find him, he began to sob, his gigantic nose turning red. “You’re not a bad guy at all, are you? Listen, we can figure out a way to get you want you need. What was Balin offering you?”
The creature calmed down enough to look into Cameron’s eyes. “Food.”
“Where?” Cameron asked.
“Food,” the creature repeated, pointing at Cameron’s chest. “Food for trees.”
LORELAI’S MIND WENT blank as she sat on her knees, staring off into space. With a deep breath, she bowed low enough that her forehead touched the dirt, and she whispered to it. “Holy Ancients, rulers of my heart and soul, bless this day that thou hast made. Enshrine it and envelop my well-being into your embrace. Hold me in your bosom like a baby lest I cry out in want. Guide me to the place thou hast prepared for us—a haven where we can worship you as intended, as we were meant to.”
The branches swayed above her, and the leaves rustled. Though there was no breeze, the leaves turned back and forth on their tiny stalks, almost as if they were clapping. Lorelai looked up at the branches and smiled. The Ancients were pleased.
“This is a wonderful place,” she said, standing to her feet and reaching into her backpack, procuring a homemade granola bar made with peanut butter and small pieces of celery. She ate it slowly, admiring the nature around her, but her tired legs soon guided her to rest against a nearby tree trunk.
The expedition was frustrating for her fellow voyagers, but she found it going exactly as she envisioned. It was a slow, experiential journey in which she could take in her surroundings with all her senses. She could smell the sweet sap flowing from the trees, hear the insects buzzing and taste the cool air on her tongue. The foliage and landscape were beautiful and unclaimed by human fingers—it had an air of innocence about it, as if it was pure and clean still. She could feel the rich soil on her feet, and the fleshy surface of the leaves on her hand.
“Hmm?” Lorelai said as she stared down at her left arm. A few leaves had fallen on her granola bar, and a couple more were resting on her skin. They were warm—strangely warm. It was not like they had been baking in the sun, but more like they were running a fever. The touch reminded her of when she would take care of her mother in her final days, and she would touch her hot forehead with the back of her hand. What bizarre plant life there was here!
“Ow!” she yelped, standing up suddenly. Had an insect nipped at her? Or...or...
She stared down at the leaves shifting back and forth upon her snack and she brought them closer to her face. Her face fell in shock when she saw the miniature teeth, crunching away at her granola bar, hungrily, like a group of piranhas. “Oh!” she exclaimed, throwing the bar down onto the forest floor. Immediately, the branch above her shivered, and a flurry of leaves began to fall overhead. She ran out of the way, heading off in an unknown direction. To her surprise, she nearly ran face first into Tristan’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said, brushing him off though there was no reason to. “I’m sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me...I saw the most peculiar thing.”
“The leaves,” Desmond replied, appearing behind Tristan. “Is that it?”
Lorelai nodded. “I thought I had fallen asleep and I was having a nightmare.”
“Don’t do that,” Desmond laughed. “We’re moving camp.”
“Good idea,” Lorelai said. “But where? The forest seems to extend forever.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Cameron shouted from their left. Lorelai gasped and put a hand to her mouth as Tristan, Desmond, Amy and Willa stepped towards their lost journeyman. Cameron was walking alongside a hulking beast with a bulbous nose, as if this was a normal occurrence, and Momo was right behind, showing no signs of alarm.
“What did you find here?” Tristan asked as they got closer.
“A possible way out,” Cameron said. “This is Felixare, or Felix for short.” He looked up at the creature. “I decided to shorten it.” The creature didn’t give a sign that he was displeased.
“He lives out here?” Desmond asked.
“Worse. He’s stuck here.”
THE GIANT LED THEM to a small, destitute cabin, surrounded by trees that swayed violently. Cameron led the charge, walking alongside the giant like old pals, and Tristan was painfully aware of the shift in leadership. He acquiesced for the sake of knowledge, which they were woefully in need of. The very forest was hostile, and one of their own had betrayed them. It disturbed Tristan to no end, and it reminded him of just how little he knew his teammates.
“Here,” the giant said, pounding on the door to the cabin with the side of his fist. “Safe.”
“Thank you,” Cameron said.
“We won’t be trapped, will we?” Amy asked.
“Better than being out here,” Lorelai shuddered. “The Ancients have provided.”
“Sure,” Cameron said, rolling his eyes. He was about to make a smarmy remark, but then he saw Momo’s stoic face out of the corner of his eye and decided against it.
“Why do you think Balin left us?” Desmond asked. “We didn’t offend him somehow, did we?”
“It’s not always about offense,” Willa said. “Perhaps a difference in perspective.”
“Ah, yes, perspective,” Desmond said, taking in the air of the cabin deep into his lungs. “I wish we all had that in times of crisis.”
Willa said nothing.
“This place isn’t in bad shape,” Cameron replied, keeping his garments close to his body so that he would not touch any of the dust and soot. The tables and chairs were rotted from termites and frail from Felix’s heavy frame. Pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils hung from rusty hooks above their head, and there were enough to prepare a feast all at once. A fireplace covered in soot was against the far wall, and there was a stack of blankets in the right corner next to it. Cameron craned his neck to the right and could see that to the left of the fireplace were two doors that led into humbly sized bedrooms.
“I was nearly eaten,” Lorelai huffed, tapping Tristan on the shoulder. Tristan turned around and prepared his patience. “And if Cameron is to be believed, Balin is responsible! Did you not view his treacherous ways in the vetting process?”
“The expedition was hastily put together,” Tristan retorted.
“I’ll say!” Lorelai said, plopping down on one of the chairs. It groaned and whined, even under her small frame. “If it was not for my devotions and prayers, my congregation would be without a leader!”
“They are without a leader now,” Tristan said quickly. His patience had run his course, sooner than he expected. “You left them, but not for nothing. You’re aiming for a better life for them, and yourself, and the only way we can provide that is if we work together. Balin made a decision to the detriment of the group. So be it. We have to adapt and move on.”
“Throw the dirt under the rug,” Lorelai scoffed. “That’s your answer?”
“For now,” he said. “If we cross paths, we’ll deal with him then. But for now, we focus on what’s more important.”
“The wound is clean,” Momo announced, having examined Felix’s stump of an arm.
“Start the fire,” Cameron ordered Willa. She nodded and immediately began searching for wood to burn. “We can cauterize it if it starts bleeding again.”
“Or it may grow back,” Desmond suggested. “Has anyone tried talking to the creature about its medical history?”
“You are useful,” Momo smiled.
Desmond gave her a weak smile back. “Uh, thank you?”
“I am trying to compliment more.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Only when it is earned though.”
“Of course.”
“Can we talk about Balin again?” Willa said, raising an eyebrow at the strange exchange between Desmond and Momo. “If we can figure out his motive in betraying us, we might know what he plans on doing next, and whether we are involved. Who knows the most about him?”
The room fell into silence.
“No one does,” Tristan said.
“Can anyone tell me where he’s from?” Willa scowled, closing her notebook and placing it on the specially made holster at her hip.
“Comida, I think,” Amy said. “I’m not sure though.”
“What gives you that impression?”
“He’s not a soldier, and he doesn’t give off an air of royalty.”
“Good deduction,” Desmond said.
“It still tells us nothing,” Willa snapped. She shook her head as she placed a hand on the left side of her hip. “I should have brought a weapon. I was foolish and naïve to think this would be a peaceful affair.”
“It still is,” Cameron said. “Don’t get worked up. Felix here will give us the answers we need.”
“Including why Balin betrayed us?”
“Perhaps I can be of assistance,” a gravelly voice uttered from behind them. The group spun around in shock. Willa’s eyes widened as she had witnessed the stranger’s arrival, and Felix smiled wide from the fireplace. In an instant, Momo was by the old man’s side, his cane in her left hand and her sword in the right, the tip nudging into his jaw.
“Oh my, you must be special,” the old man stated. Momo did not relax. Though he had been threatened, he showed no fear.
“I mean you no harm,” the old man said. He placed his index finger on the surface of Momo’s sword and slowly guided it away. “I am a guide.”
“You look like the true inhabitant of this cabin,” Desmond said, eyeing the old man’s fingers. “Your hands are singed from tending to fire often. Either you’re the cook around here or an amateur blacksmith.”
The old man laughed heartily as he adjusted his wool coat. Momo sheathed her blade and stepped away, walking towards Felix to further assist in his healing.
Tristan folded his arms. “Is this creature yours?”
“That’s no way to talk to my old friend,” the old man scolded. “He is sentient, after all.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Lorelai asked.
“Sentience commands respect,” the old man said, his blue eyes shining brightly under his thick grey eyebrows. “Even the trees can be dangerous in these lands, or have you already forgotten?”
“We are travelers,” Tristan said. “Explorers looking to chart the unknown world. If there is any way you can point us towards the next civilization or a valuable food source, we would be grateful.”
“I can do more than that,” the old man chuckled. “I can tell you why it is best you head back to the Lasting Wall, or risk facing certain death.”
