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He’s still plagued with nightmares of that day. Of the burning, the hot smoke filling his lungs. His only friend, the beautiful boar, screaming herself hoarse as her body weakened with the increasing heat. It was worse than the hoop, worse than anything else he’d had thrown at him. Was this a test? Had Uncle finally lost his patience? He’s tried, oh he’d tried, he had only expressed his dislike of the flaming hoop once.
He had cried, please, god, anyone. He’d jump through any hoop that Bernard wanted. Just let him out! His companion had thrown herself against the walls of her cage, in Murro’s direction, and he had beaten at the bars, crying for Bernard. But he never came.
Instead, there was a figure, draped in a heavy sheet. The sheet was wet when he grabbed at it, desperately trying to communicate ’Please, I’m here, don’t leave me!’ Years later, he would realize that he’d seen the same sheets drying on a line outside of the performer’s caravan. But in the moment he’d howled, reaching his hands desperately through the bars to tug at the person who had come back for him. No words, just terrified shrieking as one of the tightrope poles fell from the burning tent and crashed into the tiger cage. He could hear their cries as the figure bashed a rock down on the lock to his home, finally breaking it and watching it crash to the floor. He bursts through the door and immediately rushes for his friend’s cage as the figure tugs on his clothes, trying to drag him in the direction of the exit. He does the only thing he can think of, taking the hand in his mouth and biting it, hard. He can’t hear them over the baying of the animals, but they yank their hand back, and stand, looking between him and his boar. Then they set to work smashing that lock as well.
When it falls to the ground, the figure grabs him again and yanks him out of the flames. He shoots a look behind him, making sure Sugar follows, as the mystery person drags him through the wreckage. As they finally make it outside, Murro collapses in the grass. Fresh, beautiful grass. He heaves for breath, hacking and coughing, tears still flowing down his face. His skin hurts, it's so hot.
Murro reaches for Sugar, examining her. Some of her fur is singed, and she looks exhausted. But she’s safe.
When he had turned round to see the mystery person, they were already gone. So he had wandered off with Sugar, into the woods that Bernard had insisted he had come from.
-
He owes his life to that mystery person. Murro had tried to make a living in the city, but it was awful. He couldn’t read well or count, and barely spoke, so most were unsympathetic to his plight. “Eat the boar,” they had told him. “Then you’ll have food for weeks.”
But he would never harm Sugar, no matter how desperate he got. She had been his guide, his guardian. Murro couldn’t wrap his head around money, either. He knew Uncle liked it, he had sat around and counted colourful coins while Murro practiced riding Sugar. How many bronze coins made one silver? How many silver made gold? He got bronze pieces thrown his way often, his torn clothes and gaunt figure gained him sympathy from passers-by. But it wasn’t enough to live on, even he knew that. So one day, he left the town behind, dumping the few coins he had in the hat of an old man outside the meat market. The woods had taken him in, wrapping him softly in their branches. No whispers haunted him here, no people who said one thing when they meant another. Just him, Sugar, and the world around them.
The food was better here too. No coins, you just took what you found. Sugar had an excellent nose, shuffling about in the dirt to find grubs and other things. Murro didn’t care much for eating bugs, though Sugar loved them. But he'd choke them down anyway. They were better when Murro could cobble together a fire. He had trapped rabbits and eaten them after scraping a small fire together, Sugar and him both relishing in the feeling of a full stomach for the first time in months. After a week or so (he had guessed, he didn’t bother trying to keep track), they had found a cave. It was like a blessing, providing cover from the rain and protection from the elements. Over time, Murro had made alterations, such as blocking off most of the cave mouth and dragging brush inside to create a kind of bed. It wasn’t much better than the hay pile he slept on at the circus, but it was good enough. He found the best rocks to crash together, ones that would spark and catch in the brush he carefully arranged in the middle of his home. And perhaps best of all, Sugar had discovered the fruits of the wilds.
They had been out and Sugar was rooting around for food. Murro carried the spoils of their hunt in his shirt, pulling out the bottom to create a basket. Sugar had huffed, snorting dirt out of her snout, and stopped, scuffing at the ground with her hoof. When he bent down, Murro found a small round object in the soft earth. Before he could examine it further, Sugar had swiftly nipped it out of the earth and swallowed. It didn't matter though, because Sugar continued to dig up these round things. They were soft in his hand, splitting if he squeezed them too hard. Then, Sugar found different ones, on a tree nearby. The little mushrooms climbed up the trunk like a miniature staircase. Murro picked these as well. When the duo had finished foraging, Murro’s shirt was full up with these small mushrooms and native fruit. The two had eaten heavily that night, pleased with their spoils. Rain began to be not a thing that took away valuable foraging time, but instead marked a day to rest, for the next few days would bear enough food to make up for the lost day twofold.
Murro had lived happily like this, with his friend. Until the fateful day that he returned to his cave, only to find a letter resting on his brush pile. He had opened it, sounding out the words written inside. “Come to Oletus Manor,” The paper had read. “For we know what you do not.”
-
So he had gone to the Manor. Of course, it had turned out to be a dirty trick, locking him in a game of cat and mouse, one that nobody knew how to end. The survivors there were boisterous and loud, attempting to speak to him right away. “You have a boar? How cool! Can I pet her?” One of them had said, a sweet-looking girl with a wicker hat. She smelled like earth, and something sweet, and Murro had smiled before another voice spoke up.
“You look like a mess,” It said. The voice’s owner wore expensive clothes and held a pretty bottle. The purple glass glinted in the candlelight.
“There are new clothes for you in your room.” She said, before spraying him with a funny mist that made his nose itch and his mind fuzzy. Sugar jumped in front of him as he recoiled from the mist, waving his arms to disperse it. His companion warned off the eager horde of people, huffing and puffing, and an overwhelmed Murro had quickly retreated to his room with Sugar in tow.
He had caught a glimpse of blonde curls and colourful clothes rounding a corner as he sprinted up the stairs, and it made him feel something that he couldn’t place. But he quickly forgot as he reached the room that fit his key and had burst in and locked the door behind him, heart racing as his chest heaved with his breath.
Over time, he had gotten used to the Manor, and it’s many denizens, dangers, and quirks.
He had met Mike, too. Mike had an interesting expression that crossed his face whenever Murro was around, though he didn’t understand why. Seeing Mike like that, it was obvious that the other man knew something he did not. Was that what the letter meant? But he wasn’t one to pester, and left it alone, preferring to stay on his own with Sugar anyways. It’s in a match that he realizes what Mike has known all along.
It had been a match at Moonlit River Park. He hadn’t heard of the map before, he’d only been in a few matches anyways, and Mike sat at the table with him, Patricia, and Kurt. They waited for the hunter to arrive, and as Murro looked around the room, he noticed Mike shifting about. The other man was fidgety anyways, but it was noticeably different this time. Murro had only a moment to think about that before the hunter arrived and the game began.
The match had gone terribly. Murro is released onto the field and he freezes. The whole match is a horrible mockery of everything he wants to forget. Laughing plays over loudspeakers along with a pumping circus tune, and he’s here, standing in the middle of the big top. Smack dab in the middle of the stage, the lights shining down from the top, blinding him. He wants out, he can’t do this. Bernard's voice rings in his head. "Now presenting: Murro! The feral boy! Watch him fearlessly jump through the ring of fire with his animal companion!"
He sprints out of the tent, despite the cipher machine by the audience chairs, and runs past the roller coaster and merry-go-round, up to the gate. He bangs on it with his fists, rams against it with his shoulder as Sugar watches behind him. She weaves in front of him, stopping Murro from ramming into the gate again as he howls to be let out. A cipher pops in the distance. His heart picks up and he hears a woosh as the hunter flies up to him, her fan blade sticking him in the back. He yells out in pain and runs as fast as he can, but the hunter flies up to him effortlessly and strikes him down. He tumbles head-over-heels, face-planting in the dirt. A ping on his communicator says “Don’t move, I’m coming!” and he recognizes it as Mike’s voice. “Don’t rescue me!” He pings back. He just wants to leave this wretched place.
But Mike doesn’t listen. Murro sees the acrobat sprint across the bridge, towards his chair with the hunter behind him. Every so often, Mike glances behind him as the hunter begins to fly, sticking his tongue out in a taunt as he weaves through pallets to get to Murro. Sugar grunts happily from beside the chair.
Mike reaches the chair and yanks away the wire with deft hands. He grabs Murro’s hand and pushes him in the direction of the roller coaster. The two men run up the stairs and Murro boards the coaster. The hunter dashes up behind them and Mike throws something down on the concrete and it erupts in flames. Murro, terrified, smashes the “go” button on the coaster right as Mike hops in, and they speed off.
When they arrive on the other side of the map, Mike laughs.
“Man!” He says, stretching. “That was a great rescue, eh? Let’s get you healed up before she finds us again.”
As Mike rolls bandages around his upper arm, he talks to Murro. But the wildling can’t seem to calm down. He doesn’t listen to what the acrobat says, mind racing. The explosion near the rollercoaster scared him. He has to get out, the circus is going to burn and the figure isn’t here, so nobody will save him.
“Murro?” Mike says, snapping his fingers in front of the man’s face. “Murro? Hey, what’s going on-”
Murro flinches away at the sound, waving his hands in front of his face. He can’t find the strength to speak, he tries but no sound comes out. Mike’s eyebrows crowd together, concerned. “Are you scared of the circus? I know this place sucks, but it’s fake! It’s not real. It’s just a shitty maze the Baron made. I don’t like it either. But you just have to-”
Something in Murro’s brain clicks. He reaches out and touches Mike’s face, gently, and the acrobat stops talking. Murro’s hands tilt Mike’s face to the right, then the left, and he examines all of Mike’s features as he looks at the other man. Murro is about to say something when another two ciphers pop in quick succession in the distance. Kurt must be digging up password pages again. Mike gets to his feet and sprints off. “Focus on decoding!” He yells to Murro, before he rounds the corner of the nearby building and disappears.
-
He’s been at the manor for months now, and Murro knows that the manor grounds can be a dangerous place.
Trees were gnarled and interwoven with brambles. Blackberry thorns lined the entrance to the trees, dead and brown, and if you ventured far enough you’d find yourself at the manor gates. They were usually locked, and a hunter would periodically patrol the grounds to stop escapees. Though the hunters weren’t allowed to kill survivors, it wasn’t an experience people were jumping to have. So survivors opted instead to live inside the manor, a safe (ish) place where they didn’t have to worry about the creatures inside the woods.
But for Murro, the woods were an escape. Through the thorns and dead trees, if you knew the way, there was a whole world out there. And it welcomed him, just as it had all those years ago.
Between matches (and thankfully, he isn’t in many), he takes Sugar out with him and they disappear. He doesn’t have to worry about things here. Sugar roots through the dirt and eats grubs (some habits can’t be broken), and they lie in the sunny clearing by the broken old well. Murro has discovered that he likes to read after Kurt taught him how, and he enjoys reading the man’s fantastical stories when he isn’t around to tell them. So he sits in the clearing and he reads the handwritten pages (it’s still difficult, but he manages).
It’s a sunny day today, and Murro is antsy to get out. It rained horribly for the last few days, and he wants the feel of the sun on his skin and the feeling of solitude with a good friend. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling out leaves that have caught in his tangled locks when he pushes through the brush. He goes to sit against the well in the dry grass, patting the spot next to him for Sugar. But she doesn’t sit down. Instead, she wanders off into the woods.
He hears her snuffling around in the dirt and lets her do so, closing his eyes and letting the sun warm him. But a grunt beside him makes Murro crack his eyes open, and he looks over to his friend to see what she’s found. She drops a small round ball into his lap, and Murro picks it up, instantly recognizing it.
Sugar turns and runs off, and Murro follows, now invigorated by the discovery of truffles on the manor grounds. She makes a contented grunt and kicks the soil with her hooves, the two friends collecting mushrooms like they used to. Murro picks the late season’s blackberries too, putting them in the hat he brought out to cover his eyes while he napped. They wander around for hours, and when they return to the manor they’re both covered in dirt, Murro’s pockets and hat stuffed full of oyster mushrooms, truffles, fiddleheads, and fat blackberries. The duo unpacks it all, spreading their spoils on the nice rug on the floor of Murro’s room.
Suddenly, Murro runs off, giving a “Wait here.” to Sugar, who eats a mushroom from their pile and lies down on the ground. He runs to the kitchen, grabbing one of the bread baskets that’s normally put out with meals. Eli Clark, the seer, is in the kitchen when he gets there, and the other man watches Murro search before he hands him the basket wordlessly with a smile. Murro doesn’t know how the man knows what he needs, but he thanks him hurriedly and runs back up to his bedroom. He ends up practically throwing a portion of their harvest into the basket and running off again, Sugar content to lie in a sunbeam shining through the open window.
He places the basket down in front of the door before him. Mike, the man with the sheet, the one who came back for him, who saved his life. Murro doesn’t know what to say, so he resolves to say nothing at all, instead, he knocks on the door and runs around a nearby corner.
The acrobat creaks the door open and looks out. “Hello…?” He calls, looking around. Spotting the basket on the ground, he picks it up and examines the contents within. The manor doesn’t stock these in the larder, so again he calls out a “Hello?” but it goes unanswered. He takes the basket inside and places it on his dresser. And if he sees the twin tails of Murro’s overcoat peeking out from around the corner of the hall, he doesn’t say anything.