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The Agrarian Townlets: Innkeeper’s Ranch
21st Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
Morning rays thrash the Librarians. Flasks filled, rations stocked, it hasn’t been long since they left Innkeeper’s Ranch behind.
Rafael avoids bringing his hands into view, as they’re now covered in the crimson visions once painted on Kyoko. He keeps his eyes on the path ahead—the path to EverEmber and the TreeKeeper.
If such a creature even exists.
The warm rays on his back contrast against the cold wall between him and his igni companion. She’s endured two days of erratic outbursts and prejudiced mistreatment. A cold wall is merciful.
She examines the map as they walk, providing Rafael an opportunity to break down the silence between them.
He leans over to gain a clear view of the map. “How far do you expect us to reach today?”
“If we keep to the schedule, we’ll be sleeping on the Mother tonight.”
“The Mother?” Rafael’s forehead scrunches together.
Kyoko points to her native homeland. “EverEmber’s largest island is called Roba; hub of commerce, recreation, government, and residences of the upper class. We call it ‘the Mother’ because of Mt. Mother, the volcano at the center.”
Her finger descends south. “These two smaller islands are Sila and Tusa, referred to as ‘the Sisters.’ Sila houses the lower and middle classes, while Tusa, where the Prime is sending us, is nothing more than dense forest. An untouched look at EverEmber from before human exploration. Popular with explorers and archaeologists.”
“Further confirmation of the pointlessness of this task,” Rafael realizes, discouraged.
“Perhaps he means to humiliate us. It won’t take long to search for the TreeKeeper, given Tusa’s size. Had Courtman Tomohiro not discovered Lily Beach, we’d still be at war for Bibi Sands. They’ll take any island that can be put to greater use than a small preservation.”
At mention of the war, Rafael’s gaze falls on his red fingers, and he shudders.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.
“Don’t be,” he responds earnestly. “It isn’t your fault.”
It’s mine.
Clay paths wind between towering hills on one side and thick trees on the other. As the suns arc overhead, warmth and humidity encapsulate the travelers.
“Let’s take a break,” Kyoko suggests when they pass two short, flat-top boulders. Rafael leans on one, trying to relax, until he hears footsteps approaching from the path ahead.
A caracal approaches, four feet long, maybe fifty pounds. The feline’s strides are soft but confident, agile but aggressive. Hunched slightly, its mouth hangs open, baring sharp teeth in an angry hiss that stiffens its pointy black ears and tugs at its short snout.
It stops, blocking their path.
Rafael leans over and whispers to Kyoko. “True or Doruh?”
She examines it, assesses it. “Doruh.”
The caracal’s ears shrink to the sides of its head, and its fur turns to golden brown skin. Human facial features form from the snout and it lifts onto two legs as short gray hair with a matching mustache erupts onto his face.
The elderly man is taller than both Librarians, however, he seems to be struggling to straighten his back. The caracal was spry and light-footed, but his human form is quite frail.
“Correct,” the old man says, a snarl on his face. “Doruh. Your journey on this path ends here.”
“We’re on a tight schedule, Caracal,” Kyoko replies, calmly yet confidently. “There is no other path for us to take than this one.”
“There is.” The Caracal lifts his arm and gestures into the forest to their side. “The
HearthBark has many paths to the south, if you are able to find them.”
“We don’t have time for riddles,” Rafael insists.
The Caracal remains firm. “Your war used our village as a battleground. Our homes are in ruin, our children scarred. Your fins and exoskeletons will terrorize them again.”
He gestures to the forest a second time and his tone softens. “Please.”
Rafael finds deliberation in Kyoko’s expression, while his own thoughts swirl around the far-reaching devastation of war—the unjust truth that even the uncommitted can be injured and exploited. Though his hand never touched a blade, the Caracal’s truth racks him with guilt.
Kyoko nods. “We’ll go through the HearthBark. Your people won’t see us.”
The Caracal bows gratefully.
Kyoko and Rafael hoist their bags once more. They find an opening into a pathway between two trees, and enter the HearthBark.
Just as they step into the forest, the Caracal’s voice echoes behind them. “And beware Reyu Paleyu.”
Rafael turns to Kyoko. “Did he say Reyu Paleyu?”
Kyoko nods and translates the Nysabaani. “The Vine Demon.”
Leaves and twigs crunch beneath Rafael’s feet as he steps over colossal roots and chittering rodents. It feels like hours pass this way, stepping slowly and cautiously. His eyes dart up to Kyoko, a few feet ahead holding the map, and then back down again to secure his steps.
They reach a fork in the natural path, and then another, and then another. And then they find an intersection of many paths, until finally there are no paths at all.
The HearthBark quickly transforms from a forest, to a maze, to a prison.
Rafael steps quicker to close the gap between him and his companion, peering over her shoulder at the map. He wonders how Kyoko is able to navigate when no specified paths are outlined.
“Have you found the next path?” he asks, curious.
“Do you see any paths?” she responds sharply.
He shakes his head.
“Then how can I find the next path?”
Though he understands her distance from him, her contempt surprises him.
She rolls the map and exhales deeply. “I’m sorry, Rafael. Truthfully, I haven’t even been looking for a path. We’re getting closer to EverEmber, which means...”
“Closer to your sister,” Rafael completes for her.
Kyoko takes a long pause. “Yes. Kanako lives on Sila, but works and spends all of her free time on the Mother.”
“I know you think she hates you,” Rafael recalls, “but I stand by what I said. Six years is a long time. People forgive. They move forward.”
“Not after they claim you’ve ruined their life,” Kyoko counters. “It’s best we complete this journey without seeing her.”
“I understand. But what will you do if you do see her?”
Kyoko pauses. “Let her be.”
Joaquina’s face flashes through Rafael’s mind. If he were able to beg her forgiveness, he would. Without a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t close your heart to the possibility of forgiveness. Where a tree was once cut down, a new seed can be planted. As long as your sister breathes, you have the opportunity to build something new.”
He makes eye contact with her. “Some of us, who no longer have that opportunity, would give everything for it.”