Milo felt someone nagging at him. From the depths of his slumber, he could hear strange noises. Voices calling out, people screaming, blades clashing. The smell of fresh blood floated to his nose, and a bandage wrapped tightly against his stomach.
“Milo!”
The young boy tried to open his eyes, but they felt like lead.
“Milo! Please wake up!” the voice desperately pleaded.
He forced his eyes open. His gaze fell on the young girl he had helped earlier. She was grabbing at his left arm, shaking him awake, fear and desperation on her face as tears welled up in her eyes.
“We have to go!” she shouted at him, her eyes darting around and trying to hide behind his bed.
Milo could barely look around before she shook him again.
“Please! We have to go before they see me!”
Milo opened his eyes as he could finally register the sounds that came to his ears. The boy shot up but as soon as he did, Elm forcefully took him down off of his bed and made him hide with her behind it. Milo’s eyes locked into Elm’s, worry and fear taking his heart.
“What is happening?” he whispered.
“Crows.” The girl could only answer.
Milo’s heart sank. Not again.
“I need to find my family,” he said as he tried to move away. Elm had her hand gripped tight around his wrists, preventing him from going anywhere.
“If you try, you will get killed or taken.” her voice shook under the stress.
Milo looked back at her once more. She was terrified. These crows were already after her, if he left her alone, they would take her for sure, and then, only the Gods knew what would happen to her. Milo’s eyes lowered as he thought about a way to get out of the camp. Next to Elm’s knee, a broken piece of wood laid on the floor.
“Do you have a knife or anything?”
Elm nodded, taking an old-looking knife from under her belt.
“It is not meant for fighting, but I’m sure I'll be forgiven.” she explained, her voice still shaking.
Milo nodded. He grabbed her wrist back and took the broken wood piece in his other hand. His grip shook as he watched the scene before his eyes. People ran to escape crows left and right, some were bound to the floor and others laid dead in pools of their own blood. At this moment, Milo wanted to hide in a corner and cry, but a squeeze on his wrist from Elm shot him awake. The boy drew a long breath in and out, and right as he was about to jump from behind the camp bed, he saw the strangest of men run at full speed toward them. He also had a cape, but it was nowhere near a brown as deep as the crows. His hood had fallen and revealed an appearance that Milo had never seen in his entire life. His skin was purple, his ears stretched from either side of his face,ending in a curious point, his hair was long and a curly purplish white and held into a low ponytail. But what surprised the boy the most was the two thick horns sitting on top of his head, curling back, first following the shape of his skull before standing up straight. Elm and Milo were dumbfounded, so much so that neither of them could say a thing. From the depths of the chaos, a voice boomed, making the teenagers tremble under it.
“Jesse Numen! Come and fight me you little shit!”
A large burly man dressed as a crow was marching toward the purple man, anger painting his face, blood covering his arms and chest. The running man glanced at him before picking up speed and finally coming up to Milo and Elm.
“Come.” he said, out of breath, extending his hand out to them.
Milo and Elm glanced at each other before looking back at him.
“I saved you last night.” he added, worry peaking through his voice.
“Jesse!” called out the burly man once more, making the man in front of them more nervous.
Elm stood up and took his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Milo did the same. In a sudden movement, Jesse dragged them out from behind the bed and ran with them toward the forest. The booming voice of the man followed them through the camp, his heavy footsteps making the fear inside Jesse grow by the second. The man bodied the crows coming at them, helped by Milo and his piece of wood, and Elm and her knife. A wave of relief went over the children as they passed the forest’s limits, but it didn’t stay for long. The burly man was shouting orders for his men to come after them. The air felt thin around the three of them, and although his adrenaline was maintaining him, Milo felt that if he stopped, even for a second, the pain from his wound would be too much for him. The more they ran, the darker and denser the forest was. Elm’s breath was quick, and she wasn’t sure if she could keep up anymore but she kept on going, after all, painful legs are far better than death. Suddenly, Jesse took a sharp right and plunged into big bushes with the teenagers. Even with the broken branches poking and deeply scratching at their skin, they didn’t dare to move. In the corner of his eyes, Milo glimpsed a dark purple light underneath Jesse’s hands. A bubble of sorts wrapped around their bushes and made sounds around them duller. The burly man appeared, rage and blood on his face. He looked around, now with his crows around him.
“Fucking little shit!” he cursed as he turned around to his men.
“What should we do sir?” asked one of them.
“Take the monsters to the manor, kill the rest.” he ordered.
Elm gasped silently, instantly putting her hands to her mouth to stop the noise that almost came out of it. Milo looked into the nothingness between him and the ground. What were they doing? Why kill so many people and capture so many others? His brother had never talked to him about this. He knew his mother didn’t want him out at night because crows had always kidnapped people, but why attack the camp in broad daylight? Milo closed his eyes with more strength than he thought he had. For an hour, screams emanated from the camp. Adults, children, all screaming for help or of pain and fear. Even after they finally stopped, Milo and Elm couldn’t dare to move even a little. The only one to move was Jesse, as he finally stopped hearing the crows’ banter and the sobbing around the camp. Jesse came out of the bush, bursting the bubble by doing so.
“Come on, we need to go.” he said as he extended his hands to Milo and Elm.
Neither of them moved. Jesse sighed.
“We can’t stay in a dead place, please, come with me.”
After a few seconds, the teenagers both came out of the bushes, making more scratches on themselves on the way, and holding each other's hand for stability. Jesse observed them for a moment. Something came back to him, like a distant memory, something he wouldn’t dare disturb until his death, something that made his stomach sickly turn. In a sudden movement, he turned his back to the teenagers and walked off.
“My place isn’t far from here, we should be safe there.” he said after he cleared his throat.
Milo and Elm looked at each other again. Both were worried that Jesse would be a crow trying to get them again, but something in Milo’s eyes and facial expression reminded Elm that Jesse was their best option. Despite her knowledge of long travels, Elm had no skills for survival or hunting, or even less hiding, and neither did Milo. With a squeeze of his hand, Milo followed Jesse, Elm by his side, still holding his hand. They followed him in silence as he led them deeper through the woods. They walked for an hour or two before they finally arrived at a small house lost in between the trees. It was old and worn out by time and rain, but the demon had patched it up here and there with fresh materials. Around it was a small place or two where vegetables grew, and a few small animals ran around, sure that no predator would get them here.
“It’s small but it should do the trick.”
Jesse opened the old wooden door, letting the teenagers enter before he did. The house was indeed small, herbs were drying on the ceiling, pots and pans piled up in the kitchen's corner, and a small library covered a corner, while the shelves of the wall next to it were filled with objects and trinkets from more cultures than Elm or Milo had seen before. In a corner stood a one person bed, the mattress filled with hay and the pillow stuffed with feathers from different birds.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I’m going to make you some food, you need it.” he said as he walked around to pick up some ingredients, “touch nothing and don’t go too far, I’ll call you once I’m done.”
Jesse put down his ingredients on the kitchen counter and shooed away Milo and Elm, pushing them outside with a gesture of his hand.
“What do we do now?” asked Milo, as he felt his eyelids trying to close by themselves.
“We should sit down under that tree.” Elm pointed out, all too aware of Milo’s exhausted state.
With a nod, Milo followed Elm underneath a great oak tree, sitting at its roots and resting his back on its trunk. The sounds of the forest filled the silence in between them. Life here seemed untouched, as if the camp hadn’t been raided near here, as if the blood of the innocent hadn’t been used to water the grass. The soft light of the noon sun touched the trees and the ground delicately, flying insects made their day around the house and the little pile of fertilizer Jesse had made over the last few weeks. Milo observed his surroundings as much as he could while he came in and out of consciousness, fighting his body’s need for rest. During his bout, he could feel Elm’s thumb brushing against the back of his hand at the same rhythm he breathed. With one final lost battle against his eyelids, Milo felt himself fall into the sweet arms of the night goddess. Elm observed Milo as he fell asleep, her hand still in his. She had been traveling for a year but had rarely seen someone like him, ready to protect a stranger with his own life. His mother’s words came back to her. Taking care of him? He was the one taking care of her. The young man that had helped them in the alley came back to her mind too, he had a striking resemblance to Milo, only his skin tone and age differed. Same blond hair, same deep blue eyes, same freckles, same earrings. Her eyes fell to his bloodied bandages, and the voice of the young man echoed through her head. They had hurt him too. She wondered if he was okay, if they had healed him in time. Tears flooded her vision as she thought about it some more. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t gone outside that night. That crow wouldn’t have followed her and Milo would still be happy with his family in Salnas instead of surviving raid after raid, running with her by his side. She wiped away her tears, trying to cry as silently as possible, not wanting to explain her pain or her tears. A fuzzy white light appeared at the corner of her eye. She sniffled and wiped away her tears one more time before looking at the light. It was quite small and floated like a dandelion seed would if the wind had taken it up. Elm stopped crying, trying not to move, afraid the little creature would go away if she did. The creature landed on Milo’s bandaged wound, staying for a little. Elm slowly approached her hand toward it. It didn’t move, it even looked content, keeping its position on Milo’s bandages. Its light didn’t produce any heat but as soon as her fingers entered its rays, she felt peacefulness bloom from her chest. A smile graced her lips and the little creature floated up and away, happy to have met the pair. Instinctively, Elm brought her hand to the pendant she wore around her neck. She felt the ragged cords, the soft fabrics and the hard edges of it. She let her fingers determine its edges and bumps before she looked at it. It was a vial made of raw clear stone, filled with an oil her mother had made before her trip. The little cork had been covered in a black wax to keep it sealed and under the lip of it, a small cord made by her father had been wrapped around the neck. Her siblings had made the rest, they had assembled it and added the ribbons around it, each putting a prayer in their knots for her to be safe and sound. Her smile faded away. It had kept her safe, but at what cost? Milo probably didn’t have a family anymore. Her eyes fell back on the young boy and a worried sigh came out of her. What was even their next step? Live forever with this man they knew nothing about? Or travel until their untimely death together? She closed her eyes and calmed herself down. Things would come in their own time, there was no need to panic now. Elm rested herself against the tree, and in no time she too fell asleep.
Jesse stood in his kitchen, looking at his cabbage and wondering if the way he had cut it was alright. He knew he could eat about anything, but could they? Jesse pondered for a second before shrugging and putting his cabbage into his already boiling pot of soup. They wouldn’t die because of the way he had cut the cabbage so they should be fine. He took some spices and herbs from his cabinet and added them to the soup, trying to at least add a bit of taste to it. When he mixed it together, the smell of the porc pieces he had cooked and added to the soup mid-cooking time flew to his nostrils. He reveled in the smell of his soup, knowing it would be the best he had done yet. The soup in itself looked more like a broth with bits and pieces, but he thought, it’s liquid with bits in it, the name wouldn’t really matter once it’s inside your stomach. A few minutes before his soup was done, Jesse turned himself toward his table. He froze. He hadn’t had guests in this house yet. What silverware should he use? How should he even prepare the table? No matter how he reached around his brain, he couldn’t find an answer that pleased him. Until something came back to him. The inn. Jesse shook his head, he didn’t want to remind himself of it, not now, not ever. He took a deep breath and brought three bowls to the table. He added three glasses and three spoons, and brought the boiling pot over to the center of the table, ladle in it, and went back to the kitchen to kill the fire. As he turned around to the table, he realized he only had two chairs. One with a pile of clothes on it and the other to sit on. Jesse cursed and took away the clothes on the second chair and hid them in the trunk at the foot of his bed. A stool caught his eye. It was small. Smaller than the chairs but tall enough for him to eat. He took it and placed it on the third spot. The man looked at his now complete dining table and smiled, placing his hands on his hips as he slightly nodded, proud of his work.
“Dinner’s ready!” he yelled out of the door.
Silence met his call.
“It's going to get cold!”
This time, a groggy voice answered him and before long, Elm and Milo were inside and sitting down at the dinner table. Jesse ladled his soup into their bowls before serving himself and finally sitting down. It was only once he sat down that he understood how small his stool was, his shoulder barely going above the table, forcing him to bend his legs awkwardly to feel comfortable. Without a word, Jesse took his bowl off of the table and ate the soup at his usual speed. Milo stopped, his spoon right in front of his open mouth, his eyes fixed on Jesse. Even when Milanko came back from his trips, he had never seen someone eat this fast. Milo worried as he saw Elm mimic Jesse and try to eat faster, putting herself in the same position as Jesse, her legs propped up on the feet rest in between the chair’s legs. Her eyes met Milo’s worried and confused face and she slowed down, straightening her back a little and not knowing where to look anymore. With a nod, Milo successfully signaled to Elm that she didn’t need to worry, and he saw her stress come back down a little.
“So,” he cleared his throat, “What are your names? Mine’s Milo.” he said between bites.
“Jesse,” said the man right before he gulped down the liquid part of his soup.
“Elm” said the girl, her voice like a whisper.
“Where are you from?” added Milo awkwardly.
“Whelp,” said Jesse as he stood up, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I’m going to get some wood for tonight.”
Jesse took his bowl and spoon and washed it before heading out, leaving Elm and Milo together. Milo watched the man leave the house, puzzled by his reaction.
“Ektan.” answered Elm, taking Milo out of his thoughts.
The young boy turned his head back around to Elm, now focusing on her words.
“Where is that?”
“In Sheyja, it’s a river-town between Asay and the Cursed Forest.” she said, focusing on her pronunciation.
“I’ve never been there, how is it?”
“It’s…” she stopped, trying to remind herself what the city looked like. “There’s a lot of bridges and some people live in boats and stay on the shore. There are a lot of colors since we have the best dyers in the kingdom.”
Milo nodded, trying to imagine what this city looked like. He tried to imagine more people with spotted skin like Elm’s, other races and what they could look like, all wearing brightly colored and embroidered clothes. He imagined the river coursing through it to be always full of small merchant’s boat trading with one another; he imagined the sun elves he had heard so much about, in their glittering clothes, all resembling suns and all being royalty or at least nobility. She then talked about her travels and, although she had only been traveling for a year, she had gone through the Soudal Kingdom, seeing their capital, Zaka, the famous market of El Bawah, and then came back up via the Trail of Ashes, walking at the foot of the Ashaen mountain range to get to Dobrin. She talked with passion about the sights she had witnessed and the cultures she had traveled through. Milo listened to her like he did with Milanko. It charmed him to see someone speak of a subject with stars in their eyes and passion in their voice. Sometimes, she struggled to find words and spoke it in a language he didn't understand or even know before she mimed it and he found the exact word she was searching for, giving her a boost. Once she had let all of her passion out, she stopped, a smile graced her lips. Without moving her eyes from the table on which they had fallen, she took out something from a little pouch dangling from her pants. Elm moved her eyes to Milo’s face, and seeing his curious look at her hands, she extended her arm, handing him out the small object she had been fidgeting with during her monologue. Milo looked at her hand and then at her, unsure if he could actually look, but Elm encouraged him with a reassuring nod. He took the object and looked at it. It was a simple acorn. Small, smooth, round and pointy. Milo stroked it a few times, the smoothness of the acorn striking something in his brain and calming him down a little from a stress he had forgotten was even there to begin with. Elm smiled as she saw his shoulders lower, and asked for her acorn, which Milo promptly gave back. They sat there for a bit, talking about one another. Milo, with pain in his voice, talked to her about his family. How his mother and him watched the neighborhood’s children to bring in more money or food for themselves, how his brother was on the boat he had talked about when they first met. At first, he had stars in his eyes, a passion that Elm loved to see, but the more he talked the more the stars melted and found themselves in a battle against gravity in the outer corners of his eyes. His smile turned bittersweet, and he stopped as sobs took over. Elm didn’t know what to do. She sat there, unsure if she could or even should do anything.
“I don’t know what you’re feeling, my family is safe but I think I’d feel grief and pain if I didn’t know if they were still alive.” she finally said.
Milo dried his tears. Although she had weirdly chosen her words, he knew what she meant. She felt compassion and wanted him to feel better by knowing that if she could, she would feel the same pain as him.
“It’s okay,” he said as a final sob coursed through him, “My mom knows how to fight. My uncles were in the army and taught her everything. I’ve seen her beat up some guys before.”
Elm smiled as she saw Milo’s smile. He didn’t believe in it, he could only hope it’d be enough. If he smiled enough, maybe he’d believe in it too, maybe there was still a chance for his family to be alive.