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Etho finds that stab wounds hurt.
Time passes differently when you’re laying on a forest floor bleeding out. Etho’s last moments of life can be summarized down to an hourglass on the edge of running out. The sand is slipping through rapidly, and soon the top will be empty. All of Etho’s life force will be settled at the bottom before being flipped around for whoever comes after him. Much like Etho’s hourglass, he will soon be decomposing into the forest floor beneath him to be used for life after his own ends.
Golden brown leaves float down from the tree canopy above him, framing him in dying leaves. He can feel them falling on him too, and soon he’ll be buried under their embrace. Autumn reigns strong in Etho’s kingdom and he mourns the winter he will never see. Death approaches quickly. Etho can feel it, a creature of old and the absence of light. It skulks closer and he can see it in the way his eyesight fades, the edges greying like a vignette.
“Well you’re in a rough spot, aren’t you?” A voice says. Etho would startle if he could. Instead, his eyes drift slowly over to a rock where a stranger perches. He’s short, his shoulders covered in a cape of moss from the forest floor. His brown hair brushes the tips of his pointy ears. He has his chin resting in his hand as he watches Etho in fascination. Etho’s eyes trace the edges of his smile lazily, a wheezed breath puffing past his lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the stranger says. He jumps off his rock and approaches Etho, his gait unhurried.
“Are you going to kill me?” Etho says, each word fading softly with his exhale.
The stranger snorts. “You sure don’t need my help for that, buddy. You’re almost there already.”
It’s true, Etho supposes. The stranger falls to his knees beside Etho’s abdomen. He rips the bottom of Etho’s fine tunic off his body and replaces it with his moss cape. Etho’s head feels too heavy to move, to watch him, so his eyes drift closed instead. The pain registers faintly, like he was feeling it through a filter. His legs were numb with a cold too severe for autumn time settled deep into his bones.
“This is my forest,” he said conversationally. “The trees sang of blood when you stumbled in.”
Etho didn’t reply. With each press of hands onto his still-bleeding wound, the grey creeps further in.
“This moss has saved my life countless times in this forest. I’ve never shared this gift with anyone else before,” he confessed. “I’ve met many humans in my lifetime. Most of them were nothing special.”
Etho’s body seized with a particularly hard push. The pain came rushing in with a vengeance, a sharp, visceral agony. He tried to take in a deep breath but air isn’t a friend to him right now. His lungs rebelled with each attempt to breathe. A hand pushed his shoulder back to the forest floor roughly, but the pressure on his wound lightened.
For a while, the only sound was the gentle fall of leaves and Etho’s stuttered breaths. It was almost peaceful.
“Why me?” Etho croaked. “I’m human too.”
The stranger hummed. “Yes, you are,” he agreed, but didn’t continue. A hand that was too soft to belong to this forest spirit brushed the hair off of Etho’s forehead.
He removed the moss from Etho’s wound. Etho raised a hand that was still cold, but absent of the pins and needles that accompanied numbness. When he pressed a hand to his wound, it was tender to the touch but not bleeding anymore. Etho jerked his hand back and sat up.
“Oh,” he breathed. Etho looked at the stranger with awe.
“Hi!” the spirit said with a toothy grin. “Bdubs, at your service.”
Suddenly every breath felt like a gift. A gift bestowed upon him by this forest spirit stood before him. Each new inhale was filled with wonder and his exhale’s belonged to relief unfamiliar to Etho. The relief of life almost taken, once saved. And it was overwhelming. Etho sat there staring at Bdubs, eyes wide.
“Thank you,” Etho said eventually. It didn’t feel like enough.
“Anytime,” Bdubs replied, smiling at him knowingly.
It struck Etho, that word. Anytime. Bdubs spoke of not being fond of humans, yet he offered that word to Etho. Like it was nothing.
“I did what I could, but you still can’t travel like that,” Bdubs said. Etho winced in memory of his broken carriage, raided and stranded on the side of the road. “Come home with me.”
It was phrased like a command but Etho wouldn’t have said no regardless. There was a hunger building in him. an urge to know Bdubs. To observe his life, to fit himself into it. Etho’s duty to his kingdom was distant in his mind. The disappointment he knew would be on his father’s face was no longer scary.
“I’m Etho,” he blurted, standing up. He swayed in place for a moment, dizziness forcing his eyes shut. The same soft hand that touched him so tenderly earlier laced through his. When Etho opened his eyes and looked down to Bdubs, the forest spirit was already watching him.
“Hi again, Etho,” he tugged on Etho’s hand. “Let’s go!”
Etho could see Bdubs influence as they moved through the forest. Flowers and grass sprouted up wherever he took a step. Leaves fell to land on his head, but were swept away by the wind ruffling his hair gently.
“I think you chose the wrong human, Bdubs. I’m really not-” Etho cut himself off, clearing his throat. “I’m really nothing special. I’m a disappointment to most.”
“Oh, so you’re telling me you know me better than me?” Bdubs turned to glare fiercely at Etho, before his expression softened. “The trees speak to me, Etho. They know me as I know them. I told you they sang to me when you stumbled in, and it's true,” Bdubs was watching Etho intently.
“But I don’t get it,” Etho blinked through sudden tears.
Bdubs didn’t answer until they reached his house. He dropped Etho’s hand and spun around with his hands on his hips.
“You don’t have to get it,” he said. “Just listen to me, Mr. Prince of the Kingdom.”
Etho faltered in his next step. Bdubs was watching him smugly, like he was waiting for Etho to ask how he knew. Etho shook his head and stepped past him to look at his house.
Etho suspected if he were to open a book in his family library about forest spirits, a picture of this house would be in the pages. It was a small cottage but he could see Bdubs in every corner. Flowered vines covered the wood and stone that made up the cottage and he could barely see the foundations underneath them. Several horses milled about in the front, grazing on the grass. Etho couldn’t see a fence or pen keeping them in. They roamed freely.
As Bdubs entered the house, he left the door open behind him for Etho to follow him in. But he didn’t follow immediately. Instead, Etho breathed in deeply and forced his body to relax - slowly and bit-by-bit. He knew when his carriage didn’t show up at the palace at the scheduled time, there would be mayhem. The castle staff would be frantic. Scared to tell his father that Etho was missing.
Etho couldn’t bring himself to care.
He’d never wanted to be a prince and maybe it was cliche. He had grown up with stories of them, selfish princes who let their kingdom fall into ruin by abandoning their duty. It had scared him, when he was young. Disappointing his father and failing his people was his worst nightmare.
Now, Etho wasn’t worried. Something deep in his heart - something intrinsic - knew they’d be okay. People adapted and grew and moved on.
Slowly, he followed Bdubs into his cottage. As he knew he would one day follow Bdubs anywhere. Anytime, the word rang in his head and left him reeling. Anytime, Bdubs and Etho.