“Hm? How did me and Uncle Gu come to start travelling together?” Milo tilted his head and looked up to the stars as he contemplated how best to answer this question.

The fire crackled. Crickets chirped. The nightbirds sang their evening dirges.

Young Lady looked at Milo expectantly from one side of the campfire while Gu, Not-A-Knight, and Pancho were curled up on the other. The companions had spent a comfortable few days together sleeping atop the horse cart, but alas, the densely wooded forest they were trekking through didn’t allow room for that level of convenience. The horse cart, in the end, was met with an unfortunate fate–

A couple spokes of carriage wheel clattered off to the side as the fire burned down and shifted.

Not-A-Knight averted his gaze. Pancho snorted in disdain.

–but the party still enjoyed the warmth from memories of past comfort. And present fire.

Young Lady didn’t seem to notice the scene happening off to the side. She was too busy looking at Milo, eyes shining, both hands clasped beneath her nose as she waited in anticipation.

Milo took a breath.

Young Lady leaned in, consumed by curiosity.

“It’s quite a long tale, Young Lady,” Milo looked through the foliage above to where the moon hung in the sky. “I fear that it might be too late, now, for us to reach its end before sleep descends upon us.”

“Fret not, young Milo,” Young Lady said with confidence. “A captivating tale can even raise the dead, let alone keep eager companions awake and full of interest.”

“Young Lady, it is far too late for such inauspicious words. Watch yourself lest the dead really rise to keep you company before the morrow,” Not-A-Knight chided.

Young Lady coughed, “Anyway. Milo, we would be grateful to hear your story. I’m sure we will be held captive and spellbound by your tale no matter how late it gets.”

Milo put a hand on his chin and tapped his finger a few times while he thought about it. Eventually he nodded.

“Alright, then,” he said. “Gather around, everyone. Come closer and listen.”

The companions all shifted their bed rolls closer to the fire as ordered. Faces illuminated under dancing flames, they all watched as Milo got into character and adopted the airs of a storyteller. He looked at them one by one and began:

“The tale is long as the night is cold.

“Of old men and monsters ye might behold,” he looked at Gu. Young Lady giggled.

“In the depths of the ocean, though secrets lay,

“The threads of companions doth start to fray.

“While new bonds are forged, some others are broken,

“Repaid in kind with most valuable token,

“And so we begin this most arduous tale,

“The start of it all. From where everything hales,” Milo recited his preface.

The three people around the fire clapped. Pancho snorted and slapped his tail against the ground.

Milo took a small graceful bow.

“The story has a start not unlike your own, Young Lady. But whereas Not-A-Knight was with you from the start…Gu was not. I wandered alone for quite some time,” Milo said.

Young Lady gasped, “Are we not the same age?”

“Indeed we are, Young Lady.”

Not-A-Knight sighed, “It must have been hard, child. So terribly, terribly hard."

Tears started to fill Young Lady’s eyes, sparkling under the firelight. She wiped them away and focused on the storyteller.

Milo smiled at them and continued, “Back to the tale of our meeting. It was autumn. I was starving, cold, exhausted. One day, as I was walking by the riverside, I spotted a boat...”

—

The child wandered through the province with no goal in mind. All he knew was that he had to escape. Further and further he travelled, knowing that the more distance he gained, the safer he would be. Feet sore, shoes tattered, clothes unchanged since his exile in spring, the boy was ragged. Worse off than a beggar. He kept himself alive by eating foraged plants that caused sickness more often than not, and by receiving kindness from common strangers whose hearts were bigger and nobler than any noble he’d ever met in his life.

He saw a boat moored by the riverside and couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He was fascinated, enamoured, attracted to the sight like fatal nectar. Though the boat was nothing special, the boy was just now realizing he had never once been on the water. Milo, who had wandered aimlessly for so long, now had a goal. He wanted to set sail on the high seas, and he would do anything to make it happen.

The child came up with a simple plan:

Step 1: make contact

Step 2: build relationship

Step 3: ride boat

With this in mind, he left the road and made his way to the river.

Milo saw two ropes keeping the ends of the boat in place – one tied to a large tree, the other wrapped around a rock. There was no dock on the riverbank, but a small rope ladder sat on the portside ledge that could be easily knocked down if needed. On the path connecting road to river stood a tidy house with a small garden in front and a woodshed on the side.

Movement flickered through the window of the house. Milo’s heart started pounding as excitement filled his every pore.

He ran up and knocked on the door.

…

…

…

“Hello?” Milo called out.

…

“Hello? Is there anybody at home?” The boy tried again.

…

“I saw you moving inside, don’t pretend that you’re not there.”

Milo heard a sigh, then a moment later, a clank as the latch was undone.

“What?” A gravelly voice grumbled out. Sleepy eyes and unkempt hair greeted the child as the face of a grumpy looking uncle peered through the gap in the door.

The child cleared his throat, “Excuse me, could I please have some fish? I will do anything. I can work—”

Slam. The uncle shut the door on Milo’s face mid-sentence.

Milo knocked on the door again. It opened a crack. The boy smiled and did his best to look charming.

“I’m very good at working. What tasks do you need done? Just say that word and I’ll do them all.”

The uncle sighed, “How old?”

“Hm? How old am I? I’m Nine. Almost ten.”

Uncle pinched the space between his nose and eyebrows, “What work can a runt do?”

“I can gather firewood, fetch supplies for you, clean, cook, sweep the leaves, tend to the boat, water your garden…” Milo rattled on and on, stopping briefly only when the cold autumn air forced out a shiver. When he finally finished listing every task under the sun, his face was flushed and his breath was heavy. He looked at Uncle with expectation.

“I can do those myself. Get out,” the man slammed the door again.

Milo stood on the doorstep, waiting, thinking about his next move. How could he convince this grumpy uncle to let him on the boat?

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Suddenly, the door opened again. He and the grumpy uncle made eye contact.

“So young, surviving outside. What’s your Gift?” Uncle asked.

Milo froze for a moment and then laughed awkwardly.

“What?” the uncle pressed.

The child carefully studied the face of the grizzled man hidden halfway behind the door. He thought for a long while before resolving himself to answer.

"I…don’t have one,” he said softly.

“…”

A violent gale tore through the field, knocking over farm tools and several wooden racks.

“...”

Milo watched the man warily and gauged his expression with practiced scrutiny. The boy was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice if he spotted anything wrong.

The man’s eyes widened and he opened the door fully for the first time. Milo saw countless emotions flash across his face. Shock. Pity. Wonder. Grief. Curiosity. Sorrow. Warmth. Anger. Concern. Pain. Responsibility. But not once did he see hatred or disgust. This made Milo feel relieved.

“...”

“...”

The two looked at each other for an eternity. The wind died down and Milo’s hair settled back onto his face.

“...What?” Uncle asked again.

“I wasn’t born with a Gift,” Milo replied again.

—

Young Lady gasped.

Not-A-Knight shifted slightly, attentive. Eyes sharp.

Gu shot a glance over and yawned.

Milo smiled at them.

Pancho slapped his tail on the ground, annoyed by the interruption.

—

“I wasn't born with a Gift,” Milo replied.

“Boy, you better not be lying,” the uncle growled.

“...Who would ever lie about that?” Milo said, barely a whisper.

“...You're right. I'm sorry. Take this and leave,” the man threw a fur jacket to the child and closed the door.

Milo blinked at the abrupt end to their conversation. He stood on the porch and wrapped the jacket around himself. It was several times too large for him, but it was warm, and it was clean. He sniffed it and smiled happily.

The boy left with a bounce in his step and busied himself with small tasks for the day. He foraged whatever bits of edible foliage he could find still growing in this season while gathering dry branches in the process. Whenever he had too much to carry, he returned to the uncle's house and dropped them off in the woodshed. He spent the day like this, and when night finally fell, he curled up on the floor of the shed and fell asleep.

Daybreak.

Milo woke up feeling slightly cold, but that was the extent of his discomfort; the warmth from the fur jacket had all but tamed the morning chill of days past. Compared to the mere rags he was wearing before, the difference was immeasurable. That being said, his body did still ache when he stretched himself out of the ball that he was sleeping in.

Milo came to and gathered his bearings. He noticed that all of the firewood from yesterday's harvest had been taken away. In its place was a plate of fish, fragrant, still steaming. He wolfed down the entire dish with reckless abandon, then brought the plate over to the door of the house. Milo left it there and went out to collect another day’s worth of kindling.

This pattern repeated several more times. Gather wood in the day. Sleep in the shed at night. Receive fish in the morning. Branches and small logs started to pile up against the walls.

“Thank you for the food,” Milo said as he left the empty plate on Uncle’s doorstep once again. Right as he started to leave, Uncle's voice called him back.

“Boy,” Uncle opened the door.

“Yes, what is it?” Milo asked with excitement.

“Enough firewood. Do you know how to forage?”

Milo scratched his head, “A little. Although I did get sick often at first, I’ve mostly learned the good and the bad now.”

“Wait here,” the man walked back inside.

Milo took this chance to look through the door and finally see what it was like inside the house. He saw a wolf pelt on the floor by the fireplace. A couch sat not too far away. Near the window was a wooden table and chair. To the right was a kitchen with a small wood stove for cooking. Some pots and utensils hung from the cabinets on hooks. Other than the pragmatic essentials, the house was completely barren – no decorations, no paintings. Nothing to reveal an inkling about the life of the man living alone by the river.

Uncle rounded the corner past the kitchen and returned with a handful of various dried fruits and vegetables. Milo quickly looked away and pretended that his eyes weren’t just wandering around the entire premise.

“Do you recognize these?” the man held out both hands and showed the assortment of plants to Milo.

“Yes, all except for this one. The spiky one is hard to open, but it tastes good. This round one tastes awful, but doesn’t make you sick. The small ones are sweet. Really hard to find more than a few though. The squishy one is fine to eat if you squeeze all the juice out, but it’s itchy if you aren’t careful. The black one smells funny, but it’s good to put in water to drink.”

“How are you not dead yet?” Uncle muttered.

Milo laughed awkwardly.

The man sighed and fixed the child in front of him with a serious gaze. When he was sure that Milo was paying attention, he started rattling off all the properties of the plants in his hand.

“The squishy one is mulwart. The juices are the most important, it improves blood flow. It must be cooked or boiled. Otherwise it’ll itch.

“The round one is bitterberry. It's named for obvious reasons. Good for the kidneys, tastes like s–terrible. Tastes terrible. Boil it in water, then roast it over fire to remove bitterness.

“The black ones are kohlnuts. They purify water and make it safe to drink. If your stomach is sick, eating a few will help. Too many and you’ll throw up. From either end. Or both.

“The spiky one is called rummat. It’s a fruit, nothing special. The shell makes good fire starter.

“The small ones are sugarfey. They’re a rare delicacy, and an even rarer currency among…certain types. Eating one is like eating gold. They can be traded for a favour. They can also help you live longer. Do as you like with them.

“The one you didn’t recognize is called death’s ear. It looks like the ear hole of a skull. Don’t touch it fresh, don’t eat it ever. It’s fine if dry, lethal when wet. Smell this one now and remember it well. The odour is always distinctive and can’t be masked. If you smell it, eat nothing. Drink nothing.”

Milo nodded earnestly and kept the lesson close to heart.

“Okay. Now you know everything. Gather as much of these as you can. Growing season is almost over. Don't touch the death's ear,” the man finished his speech and shut the door.

Milo stood on the doorstep for a moment, digesting all the new information. Once he was sure that he remembered it all, he combed through the nearby woods and foraged for herbs. He left them on Uncle’s doorstep at the end of the day, and in the morning his fish was topped with mulwart and bitterberry.

The foraging continued for another week, and day by day the meals Milo received became richer as more vegetables were added to the mix.

One day, Milo stumbled across a sugarfey hidden beneath a patch of flowers. He immediately ran back to Uncle’s home and offered it to him. The man grunted and accepted the gift.

“You don’t have to forage any more. Today is the last day. Rake the leaves instead,” Uncle said and closed the door.

Milo raked the leaves and went to sleep. In the morning he received his meal and noticed there was an additional plate on the floor beside him. There was a small pouch with a drawstring on it. When he opened the pouch, he saw that a single sugarfey was inside. Milo found some twine and strung the pouch up like a necklace. He put it around his neck then started raking the leaves that had freshly fallen. At the end of the day he went back to the shed to sleep.

Halfway through the night, Milo was awoken by footsteps and the swaying light of a lantern’s flame. He saw Uncle standing at the shed entrance with an unpleasant look on his face.

Milo was worried, “What’s the matter? What brings you here at this hour?”

Uncle frowned, “Are you a stray cat? Why do you sleep here every night?”

“I have nowhere else to–”

“Come inside,” the man interrupted him and walked away.

Milo blinked. Then when he processed what had happened, he quickly packed up his scant few belongings and chased after the man’s footsteps. Warmth spilled through the open door of the cabin, casting an inviting glow into the surroundings. The boy walked inside and made himself comfortable on the floor. Right as he started dozing off, Uncle walked into the living room. Milo sat up to attention.

“...”

“...”

The two stared at each other. They had no idea how to interact. An awkward silence filled the space between them, growing more and more uncomfortable with each second that ticked past. A frog croaked outside.

“Um. What should I call you?” the boy broke the atmosphere.

“Whatever. Anything’s fine.”

“I’ve been calling you Uncle in my head.”

“That’s stupid.”

Milo scratched his head and thought for a moment, “Okay, then how about I call you Gu instead. G. U. Gu.”

“Why this?”

“Secret,” Milo smiled.

Gu grunted, “Whatever, boy. Gu is fine.”

“Milo. I’m Milo.”

“En.”

The boy started drifting off to sleep in front of the fire. The man retired to his bedroom and did the same.

—

“And that’s more or less how we came to be companions,” Milo concluded his story.

Young Lady wiped her eyes dry.

“That’s the – sweetest – story – I’ve ever – heard,” she sniffled between each word. “UuuuUuu – how – can yous – be so – sweet.”

Not-A-Knight smiled at the friends around the fire and added a few more bits of horse cart to sustain the burning embers. Smoke drifted up as the new wood caught flame and shed light on their circle.

Young Lady collected herself, “Surely there’s more to the tale than just that? There must be more.”

“Well…” Milo trailed.

“Well?” Young Lady followed.

“Well there is more, but…” he trailed off again.

“You stinky Milo, can you just finish the whole sentence in one go?” Young Lady stomped her foot.

Milo chuckled, “Well there is more, but it’s an even longer story, and the night already grows long. Are you certain that you can stay awake until the end?”

“Of course! There’s nothing that I, Young Lady, cannot do,” she said while stifling a yawn.

Pancho’s ear twitched.

“In that case, I’ll continue from where we left off. Young Milo still hadn’t accomplished his goal of riding the boat into waters unknown, so he started pestering Gu for the chance…"