Observations

The cabin where Duara and Gaul inhabited, if not mentioned before, sat on the hill side surrounded by a thin row of trees. While this gave ample shade and an enclosure against an intense summer sun, one could see through the veil of branches and leaves if one wanted to.

And one wanted to. Not maliciously, or with malignant intent. A boy. He sat beyond a few rows of trees, glancing upwards towards the cabin and promptly scribbling something down after taking in a mental image.

Gaul stood outside the cabin. After unmounting the door that troubled him with a broken hinge and rotting wood. “Who is that over there? If you’ve met them,” he asked Daura.

“I’ve not met a boy my age like him.”

Gaul cupped his mouth and pointed his face towards the boy. “You there!”

Without hesitation, the boy stood and made his way towards the cabin. He waved as he walked.

“It looks like he doesn’t mean harm,” said Duara.

Gaul didn’t respond. He tapped his fingers across his folded arms as he waited.

“Hello,” said the boy as he came close to the two. “I know how it must look from the distance.”

Gaul shook his head. “Then you must understand your intrusiveness.”

“I do, but I’m afraid it’s something I must do. I’m from the Kyron temple nearby, it’s been my bestowed ascetic duty since they’ve taken me in.”

“Kyron?” asked Duara. She’s heard of other temple’s beyond her own upbringing, worshipping Reney as a child in Haford.

“Yes,” the boy said to her, “I’m certain based on your… features, you’ve been indoctrinated through Reney’s teachings. Which, if you’d allow me to document, I would. Besides the point, Kyron is a master of observance. Documentation and discipline for Taeleeran posterity.”

In spite of the situation the boy found himself in, his eyes were calm. A mellow shade of brown that held lighter than his complexity and dark hair. He held a notepad, bound with twine that twirled through crude holes in the paper. His pencil was readied against the page, as if he were documentating the conversation.

“Child.” Gaul rubbed his face. An attempt to massage away his growing exhaustion. “Spirituality is a journey that is good for the soul. But your spirituality might not be good for my soul.”

“Why is that?” the boy asked curiously. “Perhaps that is a teaching from your original locality.”

Duara stepped in front of her father, and touched his shoulder with a slight firmness that suggested him to leave. “What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

“Wiko.”

“Wiko…” Duara trailed away from the cabin so that he’d follow. And he did. “We’re still getting used to Drethen and the Tavean country. Things that may seem normal for you, might not be for us.”

“That will adjust over time,” he said flatly.

“That’s—Yes… It may,” she conceded.

Wiko flipped through his notebook until he found a page to read from. “The Runners that I usually observe don’t mind my presence. I even ask them about their religion and their inner-workings of Bramphia.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Indeed.” He fingered a spot in his notebook, a page filled with Bramphian sketches and handwritten notes. “It seems the Runners believe hold the opposing view from their peers. I could go on, but I won’t.”

“Wonderful.”

“Oh, but I will. You see, normal Bramphians have a collective upbringing—”

“Must you?”

“Sorry?” Wiko frowned. He dropped the pencil away from his notebook, bringing his attention towards Duara.

“You see, I’m well aware of Bramphians. I apologize for any friction in my tone, but Hafordians, do not generally like being watched.”

Wiko scribbled something in his notebook. With the scratches, he muttered something, and at the tail end of his whisperings, Duara picked out the word Hafordians.

“What have you written now?” asked Duara.

“Nothing,” Wiko said quickly, “I just remembered errands that I need to attend to. Truly—uh, I must see Yarrundel about—uh, a why my dresser handle. Yes, my dresser handle. It’s broken off, and—”

“I’m not a fool.”

Wiko scribbled something again.

“Give me that!” Duara reached out to grab his notebook. Wiko moved it away in time before her fingers caught his papers.

“These are confidential to the Kunza, and the Keepers’ records, I can’t allow you to have them.”

“I can’t have allow you to scribble the privacy of my life into that paper!” Duara reached out again.

At this point, Wiko had expected it and lunged backwards. He turned and he started a sprint to the forest, while Duara followed after him. His knowledge of the land allowed him to slip through trees, but Daura’s natural comfort through forestry allowed her to stay on his heels.

Before long, they reached the Keeper’s temple. A stone fortification, with vines that grew along the sides. Flowers and vegetables were neatly placed in front of the fortification, into shallow, tilled dirt.

Wiko shouted as he approached the doors. “Ryland!” Hastily, he opened the heavy set of wooden doors. “A Laerian girl threatens to take my notes! Our sacred notes!”

A man pushed open the doors. He was clean shaven, and he had a brown set of fingerlong hair. His face remained completely placid when Wiko continued his complaints.

“She—she,” Wiko forced an inhale. “ I—I was observing the cabin, as I saw them march up the day—.”

“I see. Let me review your work,” said Ryland.

Wiko promptly gave him the scribbles and his senior read over them. Ryland glanced up at Duara, who snarled back at him. After a second, Ryland tore off the first few pages.

Wiko grimaced. “Wha—”

“The townsfolk here don’t really mind being observed,” Ryland said to Duara. “Unfortunately, my student hasn’t had much experience outside of Drethen.” He bowed his head and offered the notes back to her.

Once she snatched it back, she read the scribbles:

The new Cabin inhabitants seem to be Laerian, as noted by the semblance of prominent Sylwean features and corresponding scarring, where I’ve heard…

Duara didn’t read the rest. She crumbled it up and shoved them in her pocket. “Thank you.”

“Apologize to the young lady.”

Wiko looked at his senior and back to Duara, then again, and again, until he conceded. He bowed just like Ryland and apologized. “I did not understand, please forgive me.”

“It’s alright.”

“If it’s alright with you,” Wiko said with his head still bowed, “can I research more—”

“Absolutely not.”

Wiko picked up his head, he cupped his hands as if in prayer. “What can I do to get your permission?”

Duara pointed upwards. “Perhaps that cloud there would like to be observed before it precipitates.”

Ryland laughed, and placed a hand on Wiko. “That’ll be enough, Kunza. What was your name young one?” He asked Duara.

“It’s… Duara.”

Ryland tucked his bottom lip and considered the name for a trifle. “Is it a common name?”

“Not common enough for me to hear it elsewhere in Haford.”

“Ah. Sorry once again for prying.” Ryland pulled in Wiko into the temple. “We have to prepare supper, and you’ve earned an extra teaching session.”

“Another session today?” Wiko asked giddily.

“Yes.” Ryland chuckled. “One with a broom. You’ll learn how to guide the dirt on the floor.”

“I didn’t know she didn’t wanr—”

The door shut before Duara could hear more complaints. She then shrugged and walked back into the forest.

Where… where was she? None of her placeholder trees were around. The one near her house curved at the top, another by the steam had barely any branches, then the one that marked the beginnings of the cobble road had an odd orange hue atop of it. None of them were around.

“Well, if we think about this cardinally…” she muttered. “The cabin was north of Drethen, and I went west… I think I went west. Perhaps east? No I’d see the springs if I went east. Or were the springs west?”

She had to walk somewhere. Unless she wanted to turn, knock on Keepers’ doors, and be a midday burdensome. No. No that wouldn’t do.

She decided south was a good choice. It was definitely a choice.

She had never been lost. Well, she had never been lost in Drethen. Getting lost in Haford, in the outskirts of a busy town, was a treat to look forward to. Once two or three times, definitely not any times that Gaul knew about, she’d stare at the ground or a random choice in a path, and walk down it until her feet decided to stop. Then she’d spin around five, six, maybe thirteen times, and pick a new path to stumble down. She’d smile, dizzied of course, hold onto the nicest tree until the ground stopped wobbling and walk back to where she thought she had to go.

But the sun had always spoiled her fun. On the west side of her old town, a very long river would travel south. This river was so long, in fact, that you could ferry multiple towns down it. Knowing where the sun was, and knowing how the river led, made for a very easy game.

This game, however, was not so easy. Not so long after, the sun disappeared beyond the trees, and the darkness approached faster than she expected. Nothing was recognizable, and with every moment longer, became even more unrecognizable.

Someone called out for her in the distance, “Duara!” it yelled.

She swiveled around, seeing mere shadows that elongated around her.

“Father, is that you?” she asked the shadows.

“It’s Wiko,” the voice replied. Footsteps crunched in the shadows. “I could see you from the temple. After you left, you looped around this tree there. Oh you can’t see me.” He stepped out and into an orange touch of sunset, and pointed to a tree with a light green set of branches atop it. “I wasn’t observing, or taking notes! I swear it!”

“I didn’t—ugh—do you know where we are, and do you know how to get back to the cabin?”

“Of course,” he said proudly, “it’s just northeast from here.”

“And that’s…”

He pointed, presumably northeast from where they were.

“Thank you very much,” Duara said, somewhat sincerely. She started off to where he pointed, and he followed a few paced behind her. “I think I know where I’m going now, thank you again.”

After twenty paces, Wiko’s footsteps still crunched close behind. So she turned once again.

“I appreciate the guidance, but I would also appreciate the faith to follow it, if you would grant it.”

Wiko scratched his head. “Well the light is at it’s weakest, and I know it should be gone by the time you reach your destination, and I would be too far to offer more guidance if you were to need it.”

Duara stewed on what he said for a second, glancing precariously at the sun, so as to not signal to Wiko that she took his word as is. “Perhaps the sun is going down soon. But I’ve trekked for many miles in the darkness before.”

“Oh, I’m certain that’s the case,” Wiko replied. “If you’re comfortable then. I’ll make my way to town, there are some last minute things Ryland has told me to grab before coming back to the temple.”

“I hope you can manage your way back then.” Duara pushed on farther with an expedient pace. The crunching behind ceased for some time, and she made it a mile before the sun faded behind the trees. Once the sky became mostly dark with a tint of orange the crunching reappeared. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m not. Drethen is this way, I swear it.”

Duara sighed. “I don’t understand.” Her shoulders dropped in a sullen manner.

“Navigating around is not too difficult, if you’ve been here you’re whole life,” said Wiko in a patronizing tone.

“No—it’s—how can you be this way?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re so, upfront. Uncompromising… and—and—”

“Oblivious? My head as if it were filled with nothing but air? A talking statue? Blind to everything around?” Wiko replied.

“Yes. I wouldn’t want to say that, in that way though.”

Wiko continued in an unwavering and controlled tone. He didn’t even fully stop to consider the accusations. He just kept walking along, towards Drethen, supposedly. “It wouldn’t matter whichever way it’s stated.”

“I can’t tell.” Alongside Wiko, Duara walked, and asked, “Are you upset about it?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“It would’ve put me in a… not so kind state of being. That’s for certain.” Duara watched Wiko, hoping to catch a glimpse of his expression. But Wiko trudged past her, and his face remained the same.

“It’s how I am, or so I’ve been told. Not only by Ryland, the other Keepers as well. There’s no reason to be upset about it.”

They walked until a feint light appeared behind a clearing of trees, and they walked until the soft dirt turned into hardpan, and then into cobble.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Wiko.”

He gave a resigned nod, hoping she’d forgotten. “I am. I am upset about it. What am I to do? Stop being this way? That’s a bit unfair, I think. Yes, I think it’s a lot unfair. I don’t want to be uncompromising. I don’t want to be difficult. But that’s the way, *I am, *I suppose. Wiko, the difficult.” He dropped his head. “The cabin is off that way.” He pointed to his right, where the cobble split into another path.

Where the road became familiar once again.

Duara stopped on the fork that led to her cabin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I should’nt have gotten so upset about the whole affair earlier. It was so inconsequential.”

“It was.”

“You don’t have to agree so quickly!”

He smiled awkwardly. Where the sides of his smile cracked into his cheeks, as if it’d been a conscious effort. “I’m glad you’re able to see the truth of things, that’s all.”

“The *truth—*that’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m saying that I shouldn’t have gotten so—so—” Duara’s voice softened as she tried to find the right word.

“Agitated?”

“Scared.” Duara said it twice to be certain she meant it. “Scared. If you’d have been acting in bad faith. I don’t know. You could’ve reported us to the Sylweans or Tavean officials or…” Her cheeks dampened from a single tear that rolled unexpectedly down from her left eye. She dabbed it with her fingers. “Yes.” She coughed. “It seems I’m still scared,” she then said with an uneasy laugh.

Wiko studied her with an unlinking, emotionless response. “I can say with good authority, at the very least, that I would not be able to do so.”

“Is it against the Keeper’s code or something?”

“No. I’ve never sent for Haford nor for any official Tavean body.”

Duara rubbed at her eyes and laughed. “Right, of course.”

“I’m being—”

“Yes, I know, Wiko.” Her laugh settled, and she relaxed. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I’ll be here. And—you’re welcome, I meant to say that as well.”

Duara then left to go back home, traveling in a road that was now familiar. With a sigh of relief, she made her way back home.

Gaul had started a fire, and tended a soup above it when Duara slumped onto a chair.

“Were you worried?” asked she.

Gaul settled a block of wood into the fire. “I was.”

“Did you not look?”

“For some time, I did.”

Duara squinted at him. “Did you?”

“Yes,” said Gaul as he dipped a wooden spoon into the soup. “A young woman came to me, after I had called for you. Ashya, I believe. Said, she saw you off towards the Keeper’s Temple.”

“And then you abandoned your efforts, hm?”

Gaul took a sip from his spoon. “Yes. She told me of their mission, I found it benign, and figured you’d make your way back.”

“I was lost, father.”

“That’s why you were out so long? I figured you’d spent the time to make amends.” Gaul set a bowl for his daughter. The soup glistened from the rendered deer fat. Carrots and potatoes were cut so finely, that it seems as if it were broth itself.

“Amends? You’d believe me to make amends, knowing their mission?”

Gaul tilted his head and shrugged for a response. “One could hope. You’ve made amicable relationships so far.”

“We did—” Duara’s voiced softened. “But not on the way that I’d hoped. I feel as if I’ve chastised a pet or a child. I’ve never felt so wrong, arguing for something that I feel that I shouldn’t have to argue for.” Dejectedly, she sipped on the soup. Then sipped some more. “Do you think they’d understand?”

“No,” said Gaul. “As much as a cattle could understand a sheep.”

“What does that mean, father? Am I the sheep?”

“Would you like to be?”

“If the town were made for sheep, I suppose I would.”

Once Gaul topped his bowl with his soup, he sat in front of Duara at the table. “I would too. I’m afraid we might be too cumbersome for the sheep. But if they leave grass to graze, then I’d think they’d want us to eat beside them.”

“But how would you know?” asked Duara with a loud snort. “You’re a larger cattle than me.”

Gaul nodded. “I wouldn’t know, wouldn’t I? But I’d need to eat somehow.” He slurped a large portion and winced as he gulped it down. “It’s hot.”