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The sure bend of a tree’s branches are the only home he’s ever known.
He bounded and vaulted his way through them, as sure-footed as he would have been on solid ground, even in the dark of night. There would be hell to pay if he wasn’t back by morning, and he knew better than anyone that an angry master did not make for a full paycheck.
The mists of the forest could confound even seasoned travelers, obscuring breaks in the path and wildlife in the thickets, but he’d run this circuit enough times to confidently stay his course. Better than average night vision helped him see through the haze to his next landing.
Which meant he was all the more shocked when he nearly sailed right over a woman, far away from the beaten path, kneeling by a tree. She carefully picked herbs from the tree’s base, two torches stuck in the dirt on either side of her workspace.
Next to her, a large wicker basket overflowed with her findings. She wore a large traveler’s cloak over an unfamiliar style of dress – swathes of fabric so dark he could not tell where garment ended and the nights’ shadows began. It complimented her bright red hair, which glittered in the firelight with her every movement.
He stopped mid-swing, losing momentum. The wolves that called the forest their home were intelligent, and traveling alone made her a target. It would weigh on his conscience if he didn’t at least try to warn her.
Silently dropping from a branch, he stepped soundlessly between leaves and stray twigs. He came up behind her, keeping a healthy distance.
“Miss, you should know the forest is dangerous at night.”
She leisurely turned to look up at him, taking care to set her bounty in her already full basket. “There are some plants that reach their peak potency during the nighttime. And…” she paused, smiling to herself, “The forest is...quite serene, at night, isn’t it?” Green eyes glowed up at him, shining in the moonlight, and her soft tone had such a calming effect that it immediately set him on edge.
He remembered something he had heard long ago. “The townsfolk whisper of women who enjoy midnight strolls through the forest”, he eyed the woman warily. “Witches, they call them . ”
He could no longer remember the faces attached to the whispers, and his brow twitched at the discontinuity in his memory.
She tilted her head, scarlet hair just long enough to cascade over one shoulder.
“Do you think I am a witch?” She asked curiously.
He looked closer, noticing the way the mists of the forest seemed to swirl closely around her figure, the way the moonlight didn’t seem to affect the shadows beneath her feet that flickered with movement, or the sparkle in her green eyes as if alight from within.
Magic, definitely, but –
He knew the herbs that lay in her basket. He'd seen them before. Rainbow Leaf and Koko Grass – a well known cough remedy in these parts.
If she was a witch, she was not the cursing kind.
“I wonder,” he mused, still suspicious, content to leave her with mystery as he always did, but her stare remained wide and unwavering. It was discomforting, and as he reached a hand up to rub at the tension in his shoulder out of habit, he caved.
"I think-" he started, sure in his observations but unsure of the answer she was looking for, "I think if you are a witch, the townsfolk are telling the stories all wrong."
He purposefully eyed her basket, then his gaze flitted back to her hair, apple red and shining with vitality. "And they definitely don't do you justice."
She smiled, and it should have chilled him to his bones when she revealed sharp, predatory teeth, but his eyes caught on a dimple instead, and his hand twitched with the urge to pinch the round of her cheeks.
She set down her basket and stepped closer, hand shuffling for a pocket in her cloak before pulling out a purple, velvet pouch.
“Close your eyes,” she demanded, reaching her hand into the bag, “ And hold your breath.”
“What? Why-”
Poof!
She blew some sort of dust in his face, and his eyes closed on instinct but not before he got an eyeful – and lungful – of mystery particles.
"H-hey!" He coughed up debris, backing up a step, “What was that for?”
“Purification.” She stated, as if it were standard practice to blow unidentifiable ashes in the faces of new acquaintances.
Maybe it was. The stories never mentioned this about witches, either.
“Tell me, spirit,” She rubbed her hands together, the excess ash falling to the forest floor, “How was it that you came to die?”
... What? He blinked.
"Miss... what are you talking about?"
It couldn't – was she threatening him?
Witch or not, she was so... tiny.
“You don't remember?” Her curious, wide eyes softened with sympathy. “I see.”
He started feeling defensive, but he couldn’t place why .
"Is this some sort of strange joke?" He thought for a minute, then looked back at her suspiciously. “Are you a spirit?”
She ignored him completely.
“You must have suffered greatly.” She reached out, fingertips just barely brushing his chest and forehead. “I'm sorry you were dealt such wounds.”
He flinched back at her touch, hackles raised, but when he looked at his chest where she’d indicated, he noticed a slice through his clothes, right through to his chest, and a large red stain.
Blood.
The forest blurred around him as he tried to process, but he felt so confused.
When did this happen? How could he not know he was injured?
...Why didn’t his wounds hurt?
“But it will be okay,” she continues, her disturbing nonchalance a direct contrast for the horror awakening in him. It didn’t hurt because he couldn't feel it. He couldn’t feel anything . Not the dirt beneath his feet, the autumn night chill; even his clothes felt weightless.
With a swish of her dark robes she spun in a half circle, walking just ten paces away to a bigger clearing in the trees before turning towards him once more. This time she waved her hand in a grand arc and a ring of fire appeared around her, cutting through the forest mists.
“Come, let me help you.” She reached out a hand and he glimpsed two twin figures behind her, mirror images reaching their hands into the forest. He blinked and they winked out of existence, but their afterimages remained on his closed lids. He knows immediately that it was no hallucination or trick of the mind. He’s as lucid as he ever was after the “purification” jump scare he’d just received.
He rubs at his eyes anyway, feeling sanity slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve.
He believed her. Yet, even in death, he would adapt. The wounds he sustained, his loss of all sensation and the raging, yet contained fire the woman produced were all the proof he needed. If he truly thought about it, he couldn’t even remember where he had been heading before they’d met. Probably the job that had been his end.
He’d done a fair amount of traveling, had moved anywhere a job had needed him, and had heard stories of the gods. Gods whose afterlife meant going underground, either to be punished or be hailed for heroic deeds.
If this was the true afterdeath, and this woman was here to collect his soul, he knew what fate awaited him.
A wave of acceptance rolled over him; serenity in resignation. He knew the risks of his profession. He'd done his best to survive as long as he could but even he had his limits.
May as well enjoy the trip.
He hesitantly stepped into the circle, taking her hand, and sensation returned to him all at once.
It overwhelmed him, like he’d been underwater and hadn’t even known it, smelling the burning embers of the fire all around, the pine of the forest, feeling gravity holding him to the earth once more and the softness of her hand in his.
“Alright – little red,” he said on a gasp, squeezing her hand, his anchor to reality, he realized, and gulping down air like a man drowned. “May –” he choked on a cough.
He stopped, swallowed, and tried again once he felt a little less lightheaded.
“May I at least know the name of my reaper?”
Her laugh bubbled out of her and he swore to himself that he would hear it again, make her laugh at least once more before he disappeared underground forever.
“I’ll tell you my name, but I’m no reaper,” she said kindly, her smile brighter than the fire surrounding them.
“I am Shirayuki, goddess of witchcraft, herbalism and necromancy.” Her eyes lit up, more fluorescent than the moon, a brighter green than he thought could possibly exist in this world and ah, that explains it. A goddess.
…A ... goddess.
Huh.
She kept speaking, though he barely kept up. His brain stayed stuttering on that single thought, but this woman, not a witch, but a goddess , was clearly determined to continue knocking his world off kilter.
“Though I have many more names, of course.” He nodded absently, and that seemed to satisfy her. “Hecate, Melinoë, Panopaia, Mukaze-ko.” She led them both to the ground and they sat with their legs crossed and knees touching.
“When I first entered this land, I wandered the forests for a time, learning the paths, and I stopped to ask for directions. A friendly raven was telling me where the nearest village could be found when a family passed us by. When their child saw me conversing with the raven, they called me, ‘Shirayuki’.”
She looked smaller now, as she told her story, and he found himself bending forward, drawn to her like a heliotrope to the sun. “I thought it was precious, and so I kept the name. But you may address me however you’d like.”
Rather than answer, he continued to stare. Names had always been off-limits; names got you attached, and attachments got you killed.
How well that had worked out.
Even in death, old habits die hard. “Miss, if you aren’t a reaper, and you knew I was de– ” he choked on his words, because having accepted his reality did not make it easier to say out loud, “a spirit , why did you stop me?”
“If you’ll recall, you stopped me ,” she reminded him, mimicking his body language, leaned so close he could smell ash and saffron and yew, fire and forest all at once. “And that is a very, very good sign.”
“Sign?” he echoed, lost again. How did she make less sense with every sentence?
“I’ve told you my name. Now tell me yours, spirit.”
He blinked. His name? That’s-
He should know that. Why couldn’t he remember? He stared hard at his hands, like the answer might be written in the lines on his palms. It was not.
It was unsettling.
“That’s okay, too,” she reassured him, gently taking his hands in hers once more. “You’ve taken this whole thing quite well, actually. Your death.” She gently traced his palms. If anyone could read them, she surely could. He felt dizzy with the sensory overload, yet still felt no pain in his chest, from the wide gash there that had cut his life so short.
“Typically, spirits do not even recognize that they’re dead. They believe they are still doing whatever their last task was when they were still alive.” She held her chin in thought, contemplating a line that cut straight across his palm up from his wrist. “I wonder what you were doing that had you sailing through the trees as you were.”
His gaze fixated on her scrunched nose, disappointment weighing on his shoulders as memories retreated faster the harder he tried to recall them. “I wish I could remember.”
“Would you like to?”
“You can do that?” He perked up, impressed.
“I can see the future, the past, and the current state of affairs. I am a deity of the Underworld. As such, I can control the dead.” She reached up a finger to gingerly tap at his temple, covered by the cloth of his headband. “Including your memories.”
He speedily retracted his hands; wary again. Goddess or not, he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone rifling through his mind like that.
“I don’t mean to alarm you.” She pulled her own hands back and folded them in her lap. “I am, of course, an advocate of free will. I won’t help you remember unless you wish for it.” She waved a hand to the right, and a break manifested in the fire that circled them. “You’re free to leave at any time.”
You're free to leave at any time.
Anytime?
Truly?
He would see about that.
He rose slowly, mourning her proximity as all sensation slowly seeped from his awareness. He watched her expression morph from eager curiosity to bereft sadness with guilt in his chest. Still, he had to be sure.
He took two steps towards the opening and turned back, like a caged animal testing its freedoms, its limits. She made no move to stop him, even closed her eyes so as not to sway him, and that was far enough to convince him. Surely if she meant him harm, she'd have done it by now.
And... a small part of him wondered if he left this circle, this sacred space, if he'd ever be able to return. He didn't want to chance it. He wanted answers. He wanted more time with this goddess he'd chosen, the goddess who'd chosen him .
He sat back down across from her, holding back a smile at her surprised look, feeling validated in his instincts. His knees touched hers again, and this time he was prepared for the overwhelming experience of regaining all five senses at once.
Her bright, emerald eyes narrowed at him, and he waited, stock still, for her to finish whatever evaluation was going on in that head of hers. She still sat shorter than him, but when she looked at him that way he felt as if she could see through his soul, to the threads of his being. He could put a name to that feeling now; divinity . She radiated power and truthfully, it was more than a little intimidating.
She leaned towards him once more and it took every ounce of willpower not to flee through the fire despite his decision to stay.
"That was a test." She said incredulously.
Oh, but how quickly she'd seen through him. "You're teasing me," she looked at him flatly.
Any fear of divine retribution left his body as he tried and failed to hold back a laugh. He could work with this, whatever their arrangement was to be. Cute frustration made this goddess seem mortal.
"Why, Miss, are you already so attached to me? I promise I'm not going anywhere." Not anymore, he thought to himself.
She huffed, cheeks faintly red. “If this is you even without your memories, I may have to keep my eye on you.” Her calculating gaze returned, and she took his hands in hers once more.
“Though, that’s not a bad thing,” she said, giving his hands a squeeze. "I think you could help me greatly."
How could he possibly help a goddess?
“How do you figure?”
“Before I explain, I would like to first offer your memories back.”
He’d forgotten that he… well, forgot . He certainly would’ve liked to remember his life, but he looked down at his chest and wondered if it was really worth it.
Shirayuki noticed this, and quickly offered, “I could keep the one from when you died, if you don’t wish to remember. It may be painful. It… looks painful.”
She was right, but he didn’t think he could live, (after-live? whatever his existence was now), without knowing the whole truth. If he knew what had happened to him, maybe he could avoid it in the future. If that even mattered, considering he was already dead.
He took a steadying breath. “I’d like to know. About all of it.”
It wasn’t a test, not in the way he’d tested her. But in her kind smile, he couldn’t help feeling he’d given the correct answer.
“And so you shall.”
She held out one hand, palm up, and snapped with the other. In what seemed like a trick of the firelight, a large crystal appeared in her awaiting palm. It was round and an opaque, milky-white color. As the flames danced around them, all colors seemed to shine through the crystal.
“Moonstone,” she said, by way of explanation. She held it eye-level between them, and slowly let go. He expected it to fall heavily to the ground between them, but it stayed where she left it, hovering in the air.
She grabbed his hand and placed it on one side of the crystal, then placed her other hand on the opposite end.
“To begin, think back on what you were doing before you found me in the forest.”
He could just barely see her green eyes over the top of the crystal, and it was a little distracting. Still, keeping his amusement to a minimum, he looked at the crystal and tried to think of tree branches and a job to get done. Where had he been going, before his curiosity took hold?
As he focused, he saw himself in the crystal, and his foggy memories reflected back clearly.
“I was… a mercenary.” His brows furrowed, looking at the scroll tied to the belt of his crystal reflection. “No, this was that courier job.”
He made eye contact with Shirayuki again, trying to sort his memories enough to explain.
“I did all sorts of odd jobs, anything that came my way, in order to survive. My last job, what I was doing when I found you, was to take a note from a local lord to the King. Or I guess, before I died.”
“I see.” She nodded, encouraging. “You’re doing perfectly. Keep going.”
He looked back at the crystal. There was someone else there now, and he didn’t recognize them.
“I was on my way to the castle, taking my shortcut through the forest, and saw someone injured on the path.” He watched his crystal self take a hesitant step towards the stranger curled over on the ground, his memory returning in tandem with the scene playing out.
“I asked what was wrong, and the stranger only groaned in pain. I thought it was an animal attack, because wolves had been spotted on the trails not long before.” He swallowed thickly, knowing his heart would be racing, if it could still beat.
The stranger in the crystal brought the metal hilt of a dagger to his forehead once he’d gotten close enough, and he’d stumbled backwards to the ground, dizzy.
“An assassin, sent by another lord,” he said roughly, remembering the emblem on the stranger’s dagger. “Whatever message I was carrying, they didn’t wish the King to receive it.”
The stranger slashed their blade across his chest, and he looked away from the crystal, to his wound. His free hand reached up to touch it. Though he’d regained all his senses, he still felt no pain. That, he supposed, was Shirayuki’s doing.
She spoke, then. “You suffered a terrible fate from a despicable mortal, to prey on your kindness that way.” Her nose scrunched with righteous indignation, and he felt his lips curve upwards at her anger on his behalf.
“Obi.” He removed his hand from the crystal, feeling he’d remembered all he needed to. “My name is Obi.”
She snapped, and the crystal winked out of existence, like it had never been there at all. They stared at each other for a moment, like they were just seeing each other for the first time.
Shirayuki seemed to come to some sort of decision, and held out her hand to him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Obi.”
“Likewise, Miss.” He shook her hand, but didn’t look away from her carefully blank expression.
She reached her hands towards his temples, and Obi finally guessed what she was after.
“May I?” She asked.
“Be my guest,” he answered, dipping his head to ease her reach and allowing her to gingerly remove his bloodied headband.
Wise, emerald eyes inspected the injury, and Obi warmed when she tsked at the severity of the damage.
“Will you trust me, for a moment?” She asked, reaching into the ring of fire around them and gathering flames in her palm as if she were picking flowers.
His instinctual answer was no, but he held back. He was already dead, so what could possibly happen?
“I promise it will not hurt,” she assured him.
He nodded, keeping his gaze on the fire in her grasp. “I’m in your hands, Miss.”
She smiled faintly, and told him to close his eyes. As he did, he saw her reach towards his face, and he tensed, waiting for a burn that never came. Instead, the wounded area of his forehead tingled warmly, almost tickling him. Shortly, the same sensation warmed across his chest, and he opened his eyes to the sight of Shirayuki grazing his wound with the small flame she held. All traces of injury disappeared in a single pass.
He held a hand to his chest in wonder. She’d healed him. With fire.
“Now, to business,” Shirayuki began, having blown out the flame in her palm.
“As I implied earlier, I am not a goddess of this land,” she said. “I am in need of a guide. Someone who knows Clarines and its people. Someone like you, Obi.”
A guide. He’d never held that job title before. He certainly didn’t anticipate having more knowledge than a goddess of his homeland, even if she was from a foreign pantheon.
She took his silence as understanding. “In my short time here, I’ve come to appreciate Clarines and its differences to my homeland, Tanbarun.”
Recognition lit up Obi’s features. He was from Tanbarun, too. He didn’t remember much of it, having been moved to Clarines at a very young age. It wasn’t something he expected to have in common.
“I would like to keep learning about this wonderful new land, and if you would find it amenable, I would like to offer you a position as my familiar.” She said the last bit hesitantly, knowing this was where Obi would likely have some questions.
“I thought you said you needed a guide,” he said, raising one eyebrow suspiciously. “Now you want to turn me into a cat?”
That earned him a soft laugh from the goddess. “No, not a cat. Cats are resourceful, of course, but they are animals of the hunt. I have no need for one.” She looked up at him with mirth, and he felt a bit embarrassed when she immediately caught on to his train of thought. “Do you still think I am a witch?”
“No, no,” he backpedaled quickly, “I absolutely believe that you’re a goddess. I just thought, when you said familiar –”
“Ah, I see.” She nodded in understanding. “Yes, familiars are generally associated with witches, and are very commonly, cats. Though I think there must be another animal you are more suited to become.”
His eyes widened, and she realized a bit more explanation was in order. “The change won’t be permanent. You will be able to shift as you please. However, I will ask you to carry out tasks for me from time to time. Nothing you cannot refuse. And you’ll be under my protection, of course. Always.”
Obi relaxed a bit at her words. In life, Obi was never quick to trust, but so far, Shirayuki had returned his memories, healed him, and now given him a job offer. If this goddess had any malicious intent, he would surely already be in the fields of punishment, suffering for his time as a sellsword. Being a guide, becoming Shirayuki’s familiar, was a grand improvement upon that fate.
And besides, it was better than traversing the forest aimlessly for eternity, which seemed to be his only other option.
“I’ll do it.” Obi said, pulling his knives from his belt and laying them horizontally in front of her. “I’m all yours, Miss.”
She grinned brilliantly in the firelight, and the sharpened teeth that should have alerted Obi before to something supernatural at play, now looked cute poking lightly at her bottom lip.
“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together, echoing into the night. “I have just the animal in mind.” She reached around Obi and the two torches that had lit the base of the tree he found her under floated into her grasp.
“My symbols,” she told him, “they strengthen my power.”
She pierced the ground on either side of him with each torch, and reached into her cloak pocket again. He hoped it wasn’t for more of that ‘purification’ powder.
“Aha!” she exclaimed, brandishing a strange stone, with a hole through the middle of it. It almost looked like a piece of jewelry, except that the rock itself was very plain.
“Now hold still,” she requested, holding the stone up between them. “I promise this bit won’t hurt either. Though, it may be a bit strange, the first time.”
He sat still as he could, mostly out of confusion. How would a rock make him into a familiar?
Shirayuki blew into the center of the stone, the way Obi had seen children play with soap suds. To a similar effect, an iridescent bubble formed on the other side of the stone, breaking away and floating up towards his nose. It hit his face and burst with a gentle pop , and the world went black.
When he awoke shortly after, it was still night. He was still surrounded by fire, and his new Mistress hadn’t moved from her place across from him. She had, however, gotten much bigger.
Or rather, Obi had become very small.
The blades of grass are taller than he is now, and his snout tickled with all the new sensations of being so close to the ground. He took a step forward, only to realize that he was on all fours, and his claws had a tight grip on the dirt below him.
What am I?
“You are a ferret.” Shirayuki smiled proudly. “A polecat, to be precise. They are quite common in Tanbarun, but I think you’ll find this form makes it very easy for you to travel undetected.”
Obi wasn’t sure if she could read his mind, or just knew that would be his first question. He tried to ask her how he could turn back, but all that came out was a tiny squeak.
“You can still communicate with me in that form, though I would never invade your mind,” she explained. “If you’d like to change back, simply think about being human again. You have full control over the change.”
Obi blinked, thinking about how it felt to be his normal height, how the grass had felt under his palms. He could feel the power she spoke of, his whiskers twitching at the possible change, but he decided against it. There would be plenty of time to change back. An eternity, even.
Instead, he raced up Shirayuki’s arm, circling behind her neck and running back down her other arm. She giggled at his show of gratitude, and reached down to rub a finger pad over the fur on his forehead. He leaned into her touch, slightly wiggling off the ground with his strange new body.
“I have one more thing for you, Obi.” She reached under her dress and tugged on a string, pulling it over her head and revealing a citrine-like gem that glowed from within. It was pointed at the end, and sparkled wildly when the firelight hit it. “I would like you to keep this for me. Think of it as a gift.”
She reached over his head and placed the necklace around his neck. He sniffed at the gem, smelling smoke and saffron again, before it shrunk to hang snugly around him. It lit the clearing wherever he pointed it, yet did not blind him.
Perfect to guide their way through the forest.