Chapter 27: Baked and Alone
He woke what could not have been more than a handful of hours later, for the sun was high in the sky, to light filtering through the gap in the canopy they had descended through. The leaves were big, and colorful, and the tree he rested on had a smooth green trunk with only a few giant leaves before its crown, which opened up far, far above, six great leaves stretching outwards, protecting the ground below in its shade.
Beside him, Mitty still slept, her breathing shallow. He saw now on her skin, five thick purple lines starting to form from where she’d impacted the stairs. Her arm still hung at her side, useless and limp. How she’d survived, he didn’t know, but he thanked the miracle for what it was. It was fortunate the climate her was more temperate, because all she had was her clock.
She looked stable enough for now, so he took stock of their surroundings.
They were in a sunny glade, created by the shade of the single big tree at his back. He could feel its trunk through the holes in his shirt. It felt cool and smooth.
The air her smelled… floral, and he saw all around him, in the little ring of sunlight around this massive tree, a big field of lilies. They came in every color, black and pink and blue and white, and he saw fat bumblebees the size of his fist meandering from flower to flower.
He noticed then the trees surrounding the glade, for they were not trees at all, but giant flowers, stretching up high as houses, or higher, petals painting the canopy in every color of the rainbow, and more besides. They were not of one type, either; many different varieties bloomed, each competing for sunlight to create a beautiful mosaic above him.
He saw now what he’d originally taken for a giant tree was in fact a giant lily, hundreds of meters tall, towering up into the sky. He supposed these lilies surrounding it must be its offspring. That or they were deliberately planted, though he saw no sign of people from here. No manmade structure or marker or trace.
As he was still taking stock of his surroundings, looking for a way to perhaps exit the field of lilies without crushing any (there was a path on the other side of the tree), when his stomach rumbled. He would need to find something to eat soon.
Recalling Mitts stored such things on her, he returned to check her pockets. Reaching in, he found them empty, though he knew it was magical, so he tried turning them inside out, which resulted in a few things clattering out.
A vial of dust, a set of knives of different shapes and sizes, a pot and a pan, spices, a pebble, a vial with a drop of rainbow liquid, and a few other small objects, but no food. He returned the items to her pocket.
He supposed he would have to find something himself. He debated briefly on whether he aught to bring her with him or leave her here. On one hand, she would be exposed here, on the other, he didn’t know how delicate her condition was, and he didn’t know how dangerous it would be in the forest either. She could be concealed here well enough anyhow.
Alone it was.
He wrapped her up as well as he could in the cloak there in the shade, and she blended right in with the shadow cast by the giant flower.
He took the path out of the field of flowers, and set out, sun at his back. He hoped he would be able to find the glade again be following the sun back.
The treeline was dense. The tree flowers, as he’d decided to call them, were far enough apart that he would’ve had little trouble navigating through, but the near the ground, the leaves often extended from the stem, creating a dense underbrush that made for a difficult walk.
He often found himself ducking under leaves bigger than him, or scrambling over top of them which was worse. In the absence of the big leaves, often smaller flowers flourished in little colonies. Here, some lavender bloomed in the space between two big tulips. There, some bluebells the size of his fist claimed a small patch of sunlight filtering through.
He swatted at a colorful fly that had been buzzing around his ear for some time, though it darted away before his blow landed. Even the bugs were colorful it seemed.
His stomach still complained, though he hadn’t seen anything remotely edible, unless the flowers could be eaten safely. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
He still kept the sun at his back, when he could find it, though he could feel it slowly waning in the sky, and he felt if he didn’t find something soon, he might have to return empty handed.
As though in response to his thoughts, he heard a rustling in a patch of waist high petunias. He it sounded somewhat big, so he prepared his staff. Brushing a leaf aside, he saw a caterpillar, tall as his knee, munching at the leaves of a bush with violet flowers.
More importantly, the bush was growing what looked to be big red tomatoes, the size of his fist. Electing to leave the caterpillar alone, as he had no desire to taste bug meat, he picked some tomatoes from the bush.
They were smoother than he’d expected, and somewhat oblong. Tomatoes grew on bushes, right? Well, if the caterpillar was okay with it then it probably wasn’t too bad, he hoped.
After near a full day of no food, he was famished, so he bit deep into one, its sweet juices spilling down his face. Hunger really was the best spice, because it tasted divine. He quickly finished it off, and started another, scarfing it down when he heard a voice.
“Excuse me, do you mind?”
He looked around but saw no one.
“Over here, you rude lout. Yeah, down here. Do you mind? I’m trying to have a meal here, and you’re interrupting with your disgusting noises.”
His gaze was drawn downwards. It was the caterpillar.
“What you lookin’ at punk? I’ll chew you up and spit you out like a mealworm.”
Shaken, and not having expected a confrontation, he gathered a couple more tomatoes and left, heading back towards the glade. He heard a voice at his back as he left.
“That’s right, punk. You better run. Stupid foreigners bumbling around like they own the place. No respect.”
That was bizarre. Dantes had never met a talking caterpillar. Or another talking animal, he supposed, aside from Mitts and himself if they even counted. The sun was directly overhead now, so rather than set in a random direction he figured it would be best to stay nearby and wait.
Nearby, a patch of tiny snapdragons sprouted along the trunk of one of the tree flowers. They were swaying in the wind. Or they looked like they were, as he couldn’t feel any on his skin. He went closer to inspect.
As he approached, tiny voices emerged.
“… then he said ‘Oh, snap’.”
“haha, nice one Steve, you always tell the best jokes. I’ll tell that one to Liz. HEY LIZ!...”
“…I killed a man with my own teeth.”
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“…honey, I will kick you ass.”
“You ever think about death?”
“EVERYONE, QUIET! THERE’S A BIG GUY APPROACHING! ACT NORMAL!”
He approached the patch of pink and white flowers curiously, none bigger than his pinky.
“Hey, are you guys talking?”
He was met with silence as they continued to sway silently on an unseen wind.
He inspected one up close, lifting the flower with a finger to better see inside it.
“Ahhhhh! He’s got me! Everyone, run!”
“We can’t run, moron! Shut up so he doesn’t hear us!”
“He can’t hear us, worm brain, he’s one of them big folk!”
“It looks like he can. HEY YOU! IF YOU CAN HEAR US, LOOK STUPID!”
There was a pause. Dantes scrunched his brow in confusion.
“Okay, yeah, he can hear us. What do you want, man? Also stop touching me there, my stem is ticklish.”
He let go of the stem, unsure what was happening. First a caterpillar, and now this? He didn’t consider himself a knowledgeable dog, but he’d thought he understood the basics of the world at least. Apparently not. The breadth of the world surprised him every day. He decided to take things in stride.
“Do you guys know the way back to the big tree flower? The one that looks like a lily?” He would like to return as quickly as possible. Though he hadn’t seen anything outright dangerous in the jungle, he would prefer not to leave his companion alone for too long, as he didn’t want her waking up in a strange place all alone.
“Flower? I barely know her!”
“Haha, nice one, Bob! HEY LIZ!...”
He was confused, so he asked again.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, squirt. Just go past that tree over that way, then hang a right at the peppers, then keep going until you hit the daisies. You should see it to your left. If you see sunflowers, you’ve gone too far.”
He thanked them and was soon on his way. He did not want to be seen as rude or ignorant, and so did not question their ability to talk. Perhaps all flowers of this world could do that. He hadn’t exactly listened closely to any other flowers he’d encountered.
After another few minutes of making his way through the dense foliage, he heard chimes. He saw up ahead red, yellow, orange and green fruits, hanging from vines climbing the side of a tree flower.
*Dingggggg*
A sharp note rang out from one of them. These must be the peppers those snapdragons were talking about. He reached out to touch a red one.
A metallic ringing noise emanated from it, echoing around the undergrowth. What strange plants. He’d heard of Bell Peppers before but had never realized they were so noisy. Maybe Mitts would like one. He gathered a few in his shirt pockets before sampling one himself. These were certainly edible, he thought.
He sampled one, and found it had a subtle, but distinct taste, though most of the satisfaction he found in its texture, which held a satisfying crunch.
He saw ahead another bush with smaller pointier peppers curling around a trunk. It felt colder now, and he could see his breath mist the air. He heard a chattering voice whisper.
“Eat me…”
Why would a pepper want to be eaten? He didn’t know, but it sounded miserable, and he knew nothing about plants, so surely it would be okay of him to follow its request. He plucked it from the vine, feeling its cold shape between his fingers.
He popped one in his mouth, and at first it felt ice cold to the touch, but soon, a heat mounted, like an inescapable aftertaste. He’d long since swallowed, but the heat kept mounting until he could feel himself sweating from it. He let out a belch of scorching hot air and a high pitched voice came with it.
“Freedom!”
The other peppers seeing their comrade be released from their wretched existed chorused in.
“Eat me!”
“No, eat me!”
“Eat me first!”
And so on, they cried.
Though he decided he didn’t much care for them, he picked a few to store in his now bulging pockets to bring back for Mitts to try but trudged onwards. They were peppering him with pleas now, and he didn’t have the stomach to eat all of them.
And it was chilly. He moved on.
He heard spooky noises ahead, and saw some more peppers, this time glowing a pale green in the shade of the canopy. Getting closer, they seemed almost transparent as he went to touch one, but found his hand passed right through.
“Watchu pawing at sonny?”
He blinked, no longer surprised at the talkative plants.
“Oh, excuse me. I’m just looking for the giant lily somewhere nearby. I’m afraid I’ve gotten turned around” he said politely.
The plant responded, sounding old, and somewhat confused, its voice echoing hollowly.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, sonny, I’m a harmless spook. Now those nasty Reapers across the way would be troublesome, but you’re in a good neighbourhood.”
“Oh, I just meant I’m lost.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, sonny? The giant lily is over yonder, just head that way.”
Despite not having any ability to move or point even, Dantes understood perfectly what direction it meant, and turned to go, hearing the old man shout ‘BOO’, then chuckle to himself afterwards, as though he’d said a particularly clever joke. These plants sure were strange, but at least they were willing to help. He steered clear of the Reaper Peppers as instructed, before making his way in the indicated direction.
He walked for a time, finding a little tunnel underneath the giant foliage, which saved a lot of time and energy. Traveling the forest was tiring, and constantly ducking low or scrambling over slippery leaves was hard work. He enjoyed the reprieve and walked in peace for a time, casually munching a Bell Pepper.
As the leaves creating the tunnel slowly petered out, he emerged under a blanket of white. All around him were thin stems shooting up to create a delicate white canopy, just over head height for him. He figured these must be the daisies the Snapdragons had mentioned. He heard a low pitched thrum in the distance, but could not identify a source.
Pulling a handful down to break the canopy, he quickly spotted the giant lily towering nearby, perhaps only a hundred meters away.
The thrum was closer now, and he saw the daisies around him waving in a sudden wind. He came across a flower that had been snapped, and through hole saw a hummingbird, hovering above him, sipping nectar from the daisies. The hummingbird was the biggest bird he’d ever seen, or even heard of. Each wing, which he could barely see as more than a blur, was about twice as long as he was tall.
It darted back and forth from flower to flower before noticing him in the hole in the flowers. In a short, rapid fire staccato, he heard it speak.
“Oh. Hello there. Stranger. What do are you doing here? Have you seen any saffron lilies?” Once it said its piece, it flitted around to more flowers, though he could feel its attention still on him.
“I’m just looking for food, and healing for my friend. I don’t know what a saffron lily is, though there’s a big one over there” He pointed. The hum was deafening, and he could not hear his own words from his mouth, but the bird seemed to have no such issue as it answered simply.
“I see. Goodbye.”
And suddenly it was gone, the wind dying down instantly, and the drone rapidly fading into the distance.
He figured it must’ve been a few hours since he’d left, so he pushed through the field quickly as he could, arriving at some tree flowers, before passing into the glade. The hummingbird was not here, so it must not have found what it was looking for and moved on.
On the ground inside the circle of lilies he saw a bluebell flower the size of his head with a twig threaded through the petals like a handle. It was a handle, he realised, as the flower bucket was filled with berries of different kinds, some he recognized and others he did not.
That must mean… he circled around the trunk where he’d left Mitty, finding a strange man crouched over her, a parcel of leaves unwrapped at his side as he was spreading some sort of balm over her bruises.
The man wore a weird blue robe, flowing down to the ground in sheathes of color. He had tanned skin that looked weatherbeaten and scarred.
Dantes greeted the man, who looked up at him silently, before returning his focus to Mitty’s still sleeping form.
That was rude, but he reserved judgement, since the man appeared to be healing Mitty. Or was it seasoning? Upon closer inspection, the balm he was spreading had a golden tint to it and smelled sweet.
“Excuse me, that’s not honey you’re spreading on my friend, is it?”
The man completely ignored him this time, spreading the last of it over the bruise across her shins.
“I’m Dantes, we’re lost here. What’s your name? Do you know if there’s a city nearby?”
The man looked at him again before reverting his attention to Mitty before speaking.
“Your stranger friend isn’t very polite, is he? Don’t worry, I will bring you somewhere safe.”
Dantes was a little offended at being actively ignored by the man, instead choosing to speak to his unconscious companion, but he supposed he appeared to be helping, and if he could lead them to a settlement, the man could’ve spit at his feet and slapped him in the face for all he cared.
He munched another bell pepper while he watched the man fashion a sled by attaching some vines to a giant petal he’d quickly left to fetch. Once he finished, he looked at Dantes in silence before looking to the sled.
Getting the idea, he picked his friend up, gently as he could, and placed her on the petal sled, before following the man out of the circle of lilies.
The man whistled a series of high pitch noises at the edge of the glade, and after waiting a few minutes, a big inchworm, the size of the caterpillar he’d seen earlier emerged from the brush.
The inchworm approached the man, who scraped his finger inside the honey parcel he’d been carrying from earlier and offered a trace of the golden substance to the worm. The worm nibbled the honey off the man’s fingers, as he looped the petal sled’s handles around the worm’s head with his other hand.
The man set off in a direction, and the worm, finished with its offering, inched along behind him, though the distance was considerably greater than an inch.
Dantes, realizing the man had forgotten his bluebell bucket full of berries, quickly fetched it before hurrying after their quickly fading silhouettes in the underbrush.