7 Ert and Peep travel West/Ert's childhood forest

A Chapter by Owenbevt3

on a long journey a migrant reminisces about his past.

A few days into Erts second patrol his reputation had leapt again leaving only a few people (himself for one) in any doubt that he was a great beastslayer. The forward scouts had stumbled upon the layer of a strange rocky beast. By the time they were aware of it one of them was already screaming with pain as it's sank it teeth into his leg. It had looked prepared to eat the poor fellow there and then and quite willing to put up with the inconvenience of his friends jabbing sharp things at it while it did so. It had been Eart who was on the path slightly uphill where it struck, so naturally it was he who found the opening to dive on its back knocking it off balance and sealing its demise under a flurry of spear and sword blows to its less rocky underbelly.

After the event the stories of the dangerousness of the beast grew in the same way as a fisherman’s catch. Ert let the stories be even as his own role grew more and more exaggerated, but he had already decided to leave before he had to live up to the glory of his reputation. But that was not the only reason both he an Peep had decided to move on.

The area was becoming increasingly dangerous and the patrol and police work Ert had been scouting for seemed in danger of becoming a full blown war. The Sheapskull bandits had grown as a threat more than anyone had believed possible. Their numbers were greater than estimated, they were favored by the weather and there Sharman were bringing terrifying mountain beasts to the battlefield. These mountain beasts were as large as a warhorse, had curled horn’s as large as a mans head, a temper like a snake with foot-rot, a dark presence that gave the sharmen unearthly power, and a coating that could withstand the most fearsome of weather.

“Mountain beasts” that’s what they were always called not ,as would have been equally accurate, “sheep”, more than once someone arriving from a city had heard that the marches gard were being intimidated by a small number of sheep and failed to take the situation seriously. These were usually people who knew sheep as small fluffy specks on distant hill farms, had probably never seen an uncooked one close up and definitely not a real wild one - let alone one of the alpha Rams of the high valleys, though even they were dwarfed by these extraordinary monsters. No one laughed twice, one look into the eyes of someone who had faced these beasts was enough to tell anyone that these hills were home not just by mortal herbivores but by Devils incarnate, and that just because evil came wearing a wool jacket didn’t make it funny.

It was unclear whether these wicked beasts were related to other reports of 'strange and demonic activity'. But every day brought rumors more bizarre and terrifying than the last. These reports were as varied and often bizarre as they were terrifying. Reported as responsible for hauntings and attacks were “ghosts of flame”, “learing trees”, “screaming stones” and the “vegetable demons” which were all to familiar to Ert and Peep.

The road they chose was long, already they has traveled South to visit the recovering remains of there homevillage then West through the heart of the Red Kingdom and were continuing West amid the Free Cities following the talk of which had the most work to offer newcomers. He hadn't managed to count the days exactly but in total they must have been on the roads for a couple of weeks, long enough to feel like a lifetime away from proper washing and to become aware of most of the inns and outs of the traveling life.

The trade caravans in these parts tended to also include a few semi-comfortable wagons for paying passengers. Possibly he could have got free passage for them both by acting as a guard given his reputation amongst the marches guard and the spreading talk of strange demons attacking the unwary. But they had both thought it better to pay some more and leave that task to experienced guards. And so as Peep walked around the caravan to stretch her legs during a horse watering stop he gazed lazy at the near by Treeline, knowing other eyes were watching it more carefully for danger-, and thought back to the forest he knew so well as a child....

...The teenage Ert reached the top of a small hill and wondered onwards through the wood. Although he liked to wonder further into the high forest valleys this small wood near the village was where he spent the most time. He was an orphan and had eventually bean adopted by an aunt at the age of eight, though she tried her best it was never possible to really be like a parent Ert in the same way that it is impossible to really be the owner of a cat. For as a child Ert had dealt with civilisation in the same way as many cats - being domesticated on his own terms, turning up for food and appearing tamed when it suited his purpose but living very much his own life the rest of the time. Ert could talk civilly to his remaining family for a time and paid attention when the school offered lessons but every minute he spent indoors he longed to be out, thinking of it as a completely different life, a regrettable necessity, eating away time form his own life, as many adults think of their work lives eroding their own. To him it was the breezy forests, the mossy hills and the teaming streams that held the magic of life. In this forest he knew every tree, every low branch, every leaf almost, he’d found stores for those things he needed and made shelters for when it rained to much or when he didn’t want to be found. Some wondered if “the magic” he felt in the wood was literally a spell placed upon him during his parents demise that prevented him valuing the company of his fellow humans.

But now they were wrong, as his teens passed inevitably the village girls were beginning to captivate him and in particular Peep - who he found his thought turning to more and mor !. Ert skidded on some wet leaves. In a few frictionless moments of panic he slid forwards out of control then stubbed his tow painfully on the rock which halted his skid as he waved his arms - regaining balance in time to prevent a headlong fall into a stream-cut gully. He cursed himself - while he was out hear on his own his thoughts had to be on his surroundings not some pretty girl or he would end up badly hurt.

...

Later Eart knelt by his fire in a different small gully- a river bed in times of flood, the smell of roasting rabbit filling his nose while his eyes admired the golden-red colors of the leaves fallen from the trees above, briefly he thought how nice it would be to share this moment with Peep, then he cursed himself for spoiling the perfectness of the moment with wishes.

He had seen enough in the forest to know that sooner or later every animal must disrupt its life to find a mate, but he was still incredibly frustrated about it. In part this frustration was because he hoped for longer in this glorious middle time in between shedding the incompetencies of childhood and gaining the drives and responsibilities of adulthood. Another part of his frustration was that while Peep was pretty, made a bit of a fellow outsider by her shyness and people said there shared experience as orphans would draw them together none of that helped him understand why he had become so fixated on her in particularly. But the biggest part of his frustration was because he was socially awkward at the best of times and seemingly alone amid the males of the forest had not the first clue how to express these feelings, he was pretty sure the way to her heart would be more complicated than a particular chirp or showing off of shiny tail feathers. ...

...Ert woke from his reminiscing as one by one the carts jolted into motion again. Peep finished her conversation with the mysterious priest traveling with them and trotted the short distance to jump up on the cart next to him.