Chapter Text
Chapter 2
The Forest Watches
Morning came without warmth… I don’t know how long I slept—if I slept at all. My body feels stiff, like it was carved out of the same cold wood as the trees around me. The fire had died down overnight. I kicked snow over it, more out of habit than caution. My hands still don’t feel like my own. They’re pale and numb, trembling as I grip the hilt of my sword. I should eat something, drink something, do anything a sane man would do. Instead, I start walking again. The forest doesn’t give me the choice of sanity anyway. The birch trees crowd close as I walk. The white trunks rise like bones out of the snow, marked with black slashes that stare like half-lidded eyes. I keep catching myself glancing back, half-expecting them to blink. The air around is quieter than it should be. No birds. No wind. No life. Just snow, just one breath, just me. Brandr would have said something about keeping composure, about not letting fear make a fool of me. The thought crawls across my spine like a cold hand. I shake it off. I don’t want him in my head today. I step over a fallen log. The shadows between the trees shift strangely, like the forest breaths around me. The birches lean slightly inward, like they’re listening to my thoughts. Like they are trying to learn about me inside and out. I won’t let them get close… My side hurts ba-
Something moves…
A flicker of darkness darts between two trunks ahead of me. Too quick. Too silent. A shadow that shouldn’t have shape, but it does. It’s something tall, something deliberate. My heart stops, it’s the same thing I saw last night, the eyes. I tighten the grip on my sword. “Not real,” I mutter to myself. But the forest doesn’t laugh this time. It waits. I take one step forward. The shadow steps back, deeper into the dark. Like it’s leading me somewhere. Like it wants me to follow. I shouldn’t. But again, I’m no sane man, I move my feet forward. The branches move in satisfaction, and the trees seem happy with my choice. I nod my head at the shadow, signaling it to carry on. It moves, and I follow closely behind. I hear Brandr’s voice in my ear. “Why would you- what are you doing? You had a choice. And you chose the wrong one.” But the truth is… I’m not sure I’ve ever had a choice in this place. ~ The sun creeps through the cracks in the tree leaves. I wish I could feel its warmth on my skin. By estimate, it should be around noon by now. My whole body aches with each step, and my feet are praying for rest. I don't believe the shadow is capable of talking; all my attempts at communication have been returned with silence. To be frank, the shadow looks rather annoyed when I try to start a conversation.
My stomach growls, snapping me out of my thoughts. When have I last eaten any food? The answer is the morning before I was impaled. So before I entered this place, perhaps that's why I'm so exhausted. The shadow seems to take notice of my hunger. It suddenly makes a sharp turn. I fall behind, trying to keep up with the sudden pace change seems almost impossible. A tree root catches my foot, sending me flying forward. My face collides with the dirt–Great. I hoist my body up, trying to ignore the pain in my side. The shadow hovers over me, giving me an annoyed look. I bring my eyes up to meet its cold gaze. “Can you slow down a bit?” My voice sounds hoarse and raw. I haven't spoken in days. The shadow just points at a shrub. Bright scarlet globes dotted the leaves like drops of blood against the winter branches. I rack my brain for some identification for the berries. I hear Brandr’s voice come to my aid once again.
“Rosehips symbolize resilience, love, and potential, representing the sweet rewards after hardship.”
So Rosehips–huh. I stumble over to the berries and begin to devour. I plucked a rosehip from the frost-touched branch and bit gently into the skin. A bright, tart sweetness spread across my tongue, like a flash of summer hidden in the ribs of winter. The pulp was soft, almost jammy. I savored it carefully, avoiding the hard seeds inside. Don't want to swallow those. I turn to the shadow, “Thank you.” It nods in reply, as if it is silently saying ‘you’re welcome’. After my hunger was depleted, we continued walking. ~ As we continued through the forest, it began to grow unnaturally still; its serenity was almost disturbing. The snow muffles the crunch of my footsteps. My thoughts even sound distant. I hear someone trudging behind me–slow, heavy steps matching my own. My heartbeat roars in my ears. The shadow doesn't even seem to acknowledge the steps. Am I just imagining it? I turn around sharply, and there are no prints in the snow, but the sound lingers for a heartbeat. Then I hear it.
“Castor”
The low voice said my name softly, almost kindly. I know it’s his voice, Brandr’s voice. His voice is the only thing in this forest that knows my name. Why is he still torturing me? Is this my punishment for ending Brandr’s life? May I beg the Gods for mercy? The trees lean inward at the sound of my name. They wish to know more, but I won't let them. Blood loss is making me spiral. The cold circles in my lungs. It reminds me of when I was 16; the cold was bitter and hard to swallow. It was my second winter as a squire. Life was miserable at 16. I remember Brandr scolding me for hesitating to fight in a mock duel. He told me:
“Fear gives Death power over men.”
He then began a coughing fit. I sat there clueless, trying to make sense of his wisdom. Could it even be considered wisdom? What does Death even look like? Does he look ethereal or foundroyant? I never noticed Brandr move; I only felt the flat of his sword crack against my head. Forget it, just continue following the shadow thing. Don’t keep lingering on the past; It's a waste of time. Just focus on living, Castor. The snow crunches under my boots. It crackles in a rhythm eerily similar to Brandr’s cane tapping.
“Fear gives Death power over men.”
But then, all men are ruled by Death by that logic. To feel fear is to be man, not a soulless being.