Chapter Text
The forest was warm, probably because it was almost summer, or because Aristotle had been walking for hours.
He would never have admitted he was lost, but sadly, that was the reality.
He kept turning the old map over in his hands, as if it were an ancient text.
Actually, if it had been an ancient text, he would have definitely understood it better.
All he hoped for was a river, a lake, or even just anything that could have been marked on that map.
Not that hope had helped him much in those two hours, given that the only interesting thing he had found was a heart-shaped rock, which he had decided to pick up and throw in his backpack.
Anyway, he kept walking, when, passing a tree, he found himself in front of stone ruins.
They were old rubble, probably the remains of an ancient temple, now covered in moss and grass around the stone base so tall it nearly reached his knee.
The whole area was lit by the late afternoon sun, making it a magnificent place that Aristotle would have loved had he not been walking aimlessly for who knows how long.
Only then did he notice he wasn't alone.
There was a boy, probably around his age, muttering to himself while searching for something in his backpack, now practically empty, resting on a large stone from the temple, on which also sat whatever the backpack had probably contained.
The boy kept his eyes half-closed, as if trying to focus, while his feet tapped on the ground, as though he couldn't stay still.
He was about to speak when he noticed something else.
Something he wished he had seen sooner.
Two stone gargoyles, old and low enough to look like ancient statues, were behind the boy's back, getting closer and closer, one of them already with its wings spread open.
Only when it opened its mouth did Aristotle gather his courage, moving forward with quick steps and, with an old Spell he now knew by heart, swept the two gargoyles away with a gust of wind.
He could have done better if it wasn't so hot.
He preferred to think about the gargoyles, who were now running away, rather than the heat.
The unknown boy seemed, only in that moment, to notice Aristotle's presence — he looked up, eyes darting back and forth from the direction the gargoyles had gone to Aristotle.
It was then that he adjusted his oval-shaped glasses on his face and spoke.
"Were those gargoyles?"
Aristotle didn't know what to say, or even what to think, only that the situation was rather awkward — so he simply nodded.
The boy approached Aristotle, smiling.
"Were they about to attack me, or did they just want a hug?"
His tone was playful, and precisely for that reason Aristotle wished he would stop talking.
"I think the first one," Ari replied, his voice flatter than he intended — and by the time he realized it, the anxiety had already won.
"Gargoyles aren't big fans of affection," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck without realizing it. "Not even among themselves, so imagine with other species."
The stranger then gave him a full smile, one that reached his green eyes too.
"Thank you — today's not a great day to end up eaten by a gargoyle," he said, before extending his hand for a handshake. "I'm Arthur."
Aristotle stared at that hand as though it contained information about social interactions he hoped would prove useful to him.
If there was one thing Ari couldn't handle, it was people.
He was good with magic, ancient texts, magical creatures, and anything else that interested him — but for some reason he couldn't hold a conversation without being on the edge of an anxiety attack.
Still, he gathered his courage.
So he shook the boy's hand — the boy named Arthur, if he had heard correctly.
Had he heard correctly?
He hoped he wouldn't ever have to say his name, just in case.
"I'm Ari," the boy said, managing a small smile but keeping his gaze low, on the handshake, before pulling away.
Arthur seemed to look him up and down, appearing both like a hamster that couldn't stay still and some kind of detective examining a crime scene.
He hoped he wasn't the crime scene — whatever that might have meant.
God, that boy wasn't crazy or something, was he?
Sure, he hadn't noticed two gargoyles less than a meter away from him and he talked to himself, but come on — maybe he was just tired.
He hoped so.
God, he really hoped so.
He should have left — the situation was genuinely awkward, with that thick silence that no one seemed to fill, save for the nightingales and their song.
And yet he was curious, because if he hadn't been, he probably would still be stuck living his old life.
So he spoke.
"What were you looking for?" Aristotle asked, starting to fidget with his own hands to find something to do instead of yelling at nothing, for, well, nothing. "I mean, you looked worried."
Arthur made a face, caught somewhere between embarrassment and exasperation. "My map — I think I must have lost it when I stopped at the lake earlier."
He took less than a second before speaking again. "I know, it's a stupid thing. I mean, what kind of adventurer loses a map?"
Something clicked in Aristotle's mind. "You're an adventurer?"
"Yes!" Arthur exclaimed, looking like he was on the verge of jumping on the spot from excitement — which made Ari instinctively step back slightly. "I mean, today would only be my second day, but that counts, right?"
Ari shrugged, not knowing how to react. "I suppose so."
"Are you an adventurer too, or do you just enjoy wandering through the absolute middle of nowhere?" the boy asked in a teasing tone, his glasses already crooked on his nose despite having just straightened them.
"Me too," Ari replied, looking at anything but Arthur. "About two months in."
Before Arthur could respond — which he already seemed ready to do — Aristotle pulled out the map he had hastily stuffed into the side pocket of his backpack and handed it over.
"Here," he said, offering it to him. "I can't use it anyway."
Arthur looked at him, confused, less energetic than he had been seconds ago. "How will you find your way?"
Aristotle shrugged, tense. "It's not the first time I've gotten lost."
Arthur then reached out and took the map as if it were on fire.
Only in that moment did he look up and meet Aristotle's eyes — for the first time — with something other than amusement.
"Thank you," he said, still smiling, but softer this time.
Ari nodded, then turned toward the forest and started walking again, without turning back to say goodbye to the boy.
In a way, he was proud of himself — he hadn't had such a long, normal conversation in far too long. He probably never had, come to think of it.
It didn't matter to him.
He had started this journey alone, and he would finish it alone, whether that took a month or twenty years.
That was why he had left, in the end.
All his certainties shattered in less than ten seconds.
"Ari!" Arthur called out, running toward him until he was standing right in front of him.
Aristotle looked at him as is he was speaking an unknown language.
Arthur spoke, slightly out of breath from running, but with the same energy as before. "Look, you seem nice — a bit antisocial, sure, but nice."
"...Thanks?" said Ari, who was now more confused than before, if that were possible.
"I mean," the boy inhaled and exhaled, "I need someone who knows how the life of an adventurer works, and you probably need... someone."
No — it wasn't that he didn't need it.
He liked being alone. He loved it. It was truly the thing he had spent years searching for.
The silence, the solitude, walking without a destination.
It was wonderful.
So the idea of traveling with someone hadn't even crossed his mind until now.
And yet Arthur made him think.
He seemed like a capable guy — sure, too energetic, but calm enough, and above all he knew how to read maps.
In the end, he could come in handy.
"So?" asked Aristotle, even though he already knew what proposal Arthur was about to make.
Silence — yet a more relaxed one than a few minutes ago.
"Would you like to travel together?" the boy asked, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, almost like fear, which Aristotle couldn't quite understand.
Aristotle had to hold back a smile while pretending to think it over.
"Alright," he said then, smiling — finally letting show the smile he had been trying to hold back for so long.
Arthur started jumping on the spot, lightly clapping his hands.
It was in that moment that Aristotle realized he had made a terrible mistake — perhaps the greatest of his life.
Why on earth had he said yes? It was already an achievement if he talked to himself, let alone to someone else all day for who knows how long.
He had chosen to leave to be a loner, or whatever it was that didn't involve talking — and yet here he was, with a boy he had just met, jumping for joy simply because he got to travel with Aristotle.
In that moment, he would have gladly thrown himself off a cliff, or drowned in a river — anything to end what was going to be a continuous ordeal.
And yet, when he caught Arthur's gaze — so bright — his spiral of thoughts slowed.
He stopped and looked into his eyes for a moment, while Arthur kept talking about things Aristotle wasn't even listening to.
At least, not until now.
"So then, what's our next stop, partner?" Arthur asked, adjusting his black denim backpack on his shoulders.
Aristotle smiled, letting out a small laugh. "Please don't call me partner."
Arthur seemed thoughtful for a moment, even bringing his hand to his chin. "Hmm... well then, you'll be Strawberry."
Aristotle squinted, confused. "Strawberry?"
"You're pink — obviously you're a strawberry."
"...Strawberries are red."
"Do I look like someone who cares?"
Aristotle looked at him after longer than he would ever have admitted out loud. "No. Obviously not."
"Anyway, you still haven't answered me," said Arthur, nudging him lightly with his elbow.
Aristotle was on the verge of screaming or throwing himself to the ground and staying there.
He had wanted to tell him not to touch him, but stayed silent — over the years he had developed patience worthy of an award.
"Pygmshire," the boy replied, dropping his gaze. "It should be about two days' walk from here — maybe more. I have no idea how fast you are."
For a moment, Aristotle thought he saw something like pain cross the boy's face when he said two days.
He held back a laugh.
"That's fine — what's two days anyway," said Arthur, shrugging. "But we'd better get moving."
"That's what I'll need you for — you and my map."
Arthur dramatically brought a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "You're only using me for my humor and my sense of direction."
Just for the sense of direction, Aristotle thought — but held his tongue, and instead smiled faintly, not knowing how to react.
Arthur seemed to notice, and pulled out the map.
"Alright, let's go — I'll lead the way!" he exclaimed, and with the worn map in hand, he started walking between the trees.
"Oh lord," Aristotle said to himself, not quite loud enough for Arthur to hear. "This boy will be the death of me."
Arthur spun around, confused, but still smiling. "Did you say something?"
"No, don't worry," the boy replied quickly, flushing with embarrassment. "I'll follow from here."
Arthur shrugged, before turning back. "As you wish, Strawberry."