Chapter VI - In which I go outside

The word forest is said to have been derived from the old Frankish word forestis, meaning wood in their language. Gradually, it came to represent any wooded area. Most people, when they hear the word, imagine it similarly - a place with a lot of trees, a haven of wild beasts and monsters. And while that is what the word forest represents, it not the entirety of it.

A diligent scholar will know that the origins of the forest is older than the Franks. Forestis itself is derived from the old Auraldic word faras, which meant the other side, or more generally, outside. Outside the confines of one's home, or a village, or the town, but ultimately civilization itself - existed the forest. Wild and untamed, uncaring and unfettered, alien and alive. Nature was beyond us, in every sense of the word.

I remember the day when the seeds of realization were planted in my head. Jacob and I had gone hunting, and we decided to stop in front of a oak tree. It was a majestic sight; the hugely wide trunk, the long, serpentine branches, and the sun dappling through the canopy of trees. A great, vague yearning arose within my heart as I stood there and grasped it - our insignificant, transient existence - the sheer, impossible chance that made this instant possible - and the immeasurable beauty of it all.

Then the moment passed, the yearning faded, and I was once again a boy standing in front of a gigantic tree.

“Robin, look over here.” Jacob beckoned me over. “See those yellow flowers?” I did see them, and duly acknowledged it. It was time for another lesson. I took out the notebook and readied the charcoal. “I'm listening.”

“That's coltsfoot; so called because of the shape of its leaves. It grows throughout the year, flowers in the spring, and withers in the summer. ” He spoke without pause, and I struggled to keep up. “It's good for clearing the lungs and the throat. Crush a few leaves, boil and drink; once in the morning and evening. Too much though, is poisonous, and don't give it to expecting mothers or children.”

“Got it.” I said after writing it down. “Anything more?”

He looked around, searching. “That one over there -”

“- is the blackthorn. The fruit is stringy and hard, but if picked just after first frost, it can be used to make tart and port.” I said. “We saw it yesterday. What else?”

“Alright, then. What's that?” He pointed towards another shrub.

"A fern?" I said.

“Which one though?”

That was a bit more difficult. There were at least twenty types that I had learned yesterday. “Maiden-hair?” He shook his head, but I knew better. “It's maiden-hair.” I said, more certain this time.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“I am.”

“Well, it is maiden-hair, BUT-” He cut me off before I could brag, and continued on. “-You didn't tell me what it is used -”l interrupted him again.

“Infusion for the skin, mostly bee bites.” I triumphantly said. “Now admit it - I'm great at learning.”

“You learned it yesterday, so everything's fresh in your memory. I'll do admit that you are a fast learner though. Now come on - today's lesson awaits!”

We walked ahead through the thickets, Jacob, me and Smoker at my heels. “So listen very carefully - hunting is hard, whether it be animals or monsters. Our advantage lies in our knowledge and preparation; where they are, where they will be, whether they're hungry, thirsty, tired, or asleep, their habits, their haunts - everything we possibly can. Now see here - what's that?”

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“It’s a clump of mistletoe,” I said.

He looked around upwards, and immediately pointed to a tree. “See that nest over there, third branch on the left, what colour is the bird?”

I strained my eyes and tried to see. “It's a small blue one, I think.”

“That's the mistletoe-bird; its main diet is the mistletoe’s nectar. So whenever you find the tree or the bird, the other won't be far behind.”

“I understand.” He nodded at me, and we resumed our journey. “That's why you have to be knowledgeable; for everything here depends upon the other, and only by knowing about it all would you be a forester. That's one of the main tenets.

Now let's see, there are four types of deers in the forest, but we hunt only the red deer. Their feeding grounds -”

“Why do we hunt only the red?”

“Because the others are rarer, and their herds are much smaller. The forest has a balance, and we have to preserve it all costs. Never kill anything needlessly. That's another important rule.”

“I see.”

“The red deer, as I was saying, have a lot of feeding grounds over at this part of the forest. Otherwise, we would have to search for their tracks somewhere where we know they gather. At the present though, I know they are at a heath a few miles ahead - so that's where we are headed.

Now, for hunting any animal, I want you to etch these laws on your heart - always be hidden, for they have great eyesight; always be silent, since they have extraordinarily sharp ears; and never approach them with the wind, because they will smell you from a mile away.

For deer, remember they are noble creatures, so you must not cause them any unnecessary pain; down them with one shot. Smoker won't help until it is badly wounded - he knows his job, and he'll perform it admirably when required.

And now we are nearly here - so follow me carefully. Smoker, heel!”

We crouched down and started walking, and after a mile or we reached nearly the edge of the grass - and the three deers grazing there. Jacob laid down completely on the ground, and I fell beside him.

“They're still feeding, so we must wait till they rest. And approach from the eastern side, cause the wind is coming in from the west.” We started crawling left, a tedious, slow activity until one deer suddenly decided to raise his head and sniff the air. We waited, and started moving once it lowered its head again. Yet the creature was clearly uneasy, and by the time we were just a quarter mile away, it pranced and led the herd to the other side of the clearing, thus restoring our effort useless.

Jacob’s response to this was to simply nod his head, and then crawl back into the forest. Once we were at a safe distance away, he spoke. “Well, that's how it goes sometimes. You have to be patient to be able to hunt. The deer’s uneasy though; we have to be careful if we try again.”

“What do you think spooked it?” I asked.

“I think that when we were crawling, you stepped on a wet branch, didn't you?”

“Yes, but that made little noise.”

“It was enough for him to hear it. Well, no use thinking over it now. These things happen sometimes - no matter how hard we try, or how experienced we are. The only thing we can do is to try all over again; approach it from the north side of the dell this time. Or do you want to go back?”

“It's been a long day,” I said. “But it would be shameful to leave empty handed. Let's try one more time.”

And so we crawled again from the north, with me being more vigilant this time. Four hundred yards, three hundred, two, and then one; we could go no further. I readied the bow and nocked the arrow. The sound of the bow stretching must have alerted him, for he looked up; but it was too late. The arrow caught it behind its head, and after taking a few unsteady steps, it fell dead. The others fled away rapidly; but that it didn't matter to me. I had my prey.

“Yes!” I cried out and got up, yet Jacob stopped me from behind.

“I forgot to tell you,” He said. “You must never do that again; while hunting, always, always keep your voice low - and you should never rise from the fern either.”

“Why, though? The deer is dead.”

“Yes, the deer is dead, but what if there was another one hiding, who was alerted by your shout? If we both had bows, then I'd be able to shoot it as well. Or perhaps it might have simply moved it's head, and we could then have tracked it to its lair? Remember, there are all sorts of possibilities - but we lose the advantage if we expose ourselves.”

“You're right.” I said. “I still have a lot to learn, huh?”

“My dear boy, you'd have to keep learning all your life. Even I dare not assume that I know everything, and I have been living in this forest for 40 years. Now let's get to our quarry, and see what we have.

Ah, this is a fine beast! It's a hart royal, just as I thought.” He knelt down and readied the knives.

“What's a hart royal, Jacob?”

“Why, a stag is called a brocket till it's three years old, a staggart by four, warrantable by five, and if it lives more than that, it's a hart royal. You can tell a deer's age by the number of antlers they have. A brocket usually has two or three, a staggart four, warrantable usually seven, and this one has nine - so it's a hart royal.”

We knelt down, where Jacob showed me how to cut and flay the guts. It was complicated work, and Jacob took his time to explain it to me. He then left to fetch the cart, returned, and together we loaded the body. It weighed about thirty stones - a sizeable amount. On the way back he taught me more about tracking and observing the creatures, and that night we had a grand feast of delectable, soft meat and potato curry, warm soup and bread.

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