He drags me from my cocoon of comfort into the cold morning air, my skin prickles and I moan to all the Gods for protection. I’ll sell my Spirit to whoever will strike down this bullman.
“Eat your blue porridge and we shall begin.” He shoves a wooden bowl of steamy alien breakfast into my hands.
I chuck on my poncho and drink down two bowls of the food, my hunger ravenous from yesterday. Toomas leads me on a light jog out of the village, slowly gaining speed as we reach the outskirts, the aches in my legs sing out with protest but give in as my muscles thaw with pumping blood.
He stops amongst a field of varying ferns and bushes, buttress roots crisscrossing every direction and boulders poking out with mossy tops.
“Today we move like Verox, agile and explosive, or quiet and hidden.” Toomas explains.
“Mother knows I have seen a Verox move.” I say while brandishing my chitinous vambraces.
“Ahahaha I do not doubt you do, Shepherd Seth. So you will be able to show me. Follow my path and movement exactly.” He immediately sprints off, dodging, weaving plants, leaping roots and scaling boulders. I give chase, mimicking his steps as best I can, my hips and ankles feeling the strain of each rapid turn.
Toomas soon disappears and I lose his trail, but I continue creating my assault course with any obstacle I can find, whilst watching the undergrowth for any large dark shapes.
He comes at me again in the same manner, leaping to tackle me to the ground. I slide in the soft dirt, his broad smile passing inches from my face as his momentum carries him through the air. I push myself up to face him, but he pounces again with those Raptor-like reflexes and crushes me under his bulk, again.
“Very good Shepherd Seth. Hunters always strike from the shadows, you were ready, but still too slow.” He helps me up and races off again.
Piia tips cool water over my hand outside our teepee, the refreshing chill runs down my back causing me to shiver, it was wonderful. Toomas had me dancing through his agility and reflex training all morning, only letting me stop to eat and hydrate.
“Thanks.”
She drops a sack on my lap, it's contents full of dark wooden shapes.
“Mother’s luck, the Tribe still has honest Ferrum craftsmen amongst us. I traded for us and may have plucked a good deal using your prophesied title.” She grins at her wickedness.
“Use away, this looks amazing.” I begin to inspect the gear while Piia dons her own, the same armour sported by the Thorns. The moulded wood is a deep earthy colour and shaped to fit around limbs and cover vulnerable spots while maintaining flexibility at the joints.
There are no straps to attach the plates, how do I equip them? I glance over at Piia who is simply placing the wooden armour onto her fur, where it is held in place.
“How does this work?” I hold up a pauldron.
“The inside layer is made from a cultivated moss that we grow with Tear milk. Just place it against flesh and it will hold.” She explains while attaching vambraces to her forearm.
I look underneath the shoulder armour, a turquoise moss carpet lines the inside of the Ferrum wood, I poke it with my finger to find it briefly latches onto my skin before easily pulling away.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Won’t this just fall off in a fight, how does it stay attached when a blade hits it?” I assume the Satyrs have battle tested the armour.
“That is a secret closely protected by the craftsmen, people say it is Mother’s love that holds it on.” She says without scepticism.
Sounds good enough for me. I begin placing my new armour on, lifting my short poncho sleeves to attach the pauldrons, they cover from my shoulders down to my elbows. Grieves and tassets for my lower legs, the hemp trousers allow the magical moss to stick tightly as well.
I realise the ridiculousness of my shoes completely unmatching the rest of my fantastical attire, the trek through Silva’s terrain has shortened their life by a few years.
“These craftsmen, would they know how to make shoes?” I show her the shredded remains, rips and tears more numerous than not.
“Hhhmmmm, no harm in asking. It would not be a very common item, so prepare to pay highly. I will introduce you to a skilled leather worker later.”
“Thank you, and thank you for all of this. It’s amazing and so light. How strong is this wood?”
Piia finishes placing the last piece of armour on her chest, it fits perfectly to the contours of her frame, she now looks like a badass forest warrior.
“Ferrum wood is very strong, I have seen it stop arrows and warcraft.” She wraps her knuckles against her breastplate in dramatic emphasis.
“Good to know, I could with a full set though. Torso and one of those masks.”
“I traded all you gave and everything I had, except the bow and arrows. The Guardian hide will do, for now, the masks are earnt by joining the Thorns.” She kisses her teeth at their mention, her eyes then looking passed me and grinning.
“Shepherd Seth! Resting is over. Nice armour.” Toomas yells whilst energetically sprinting towards us.
“Till later Seth.” Piia heads to the training ring, I desperately wish I could be joining her.
I begin to unclasp my left tasset when Toomas’s hand grabs my arm.
“You will fight in armour, you should train in armour.” He pushes the piece back on.
“That makes sense.”
“It will make for a beautiful metaphor with your afternoon session.” He taps my shoulders and then drags me out of the village.
We take a new path today, in the direction me and Piia originally arrived on, out towards the mushroom Tear farm and beyond. More Satyrs are here now attending each clump of the wide turquoise fungus, gathering and cultivating to ensure no more tragedies occur.
We bank hard off the path and follow a fox trail, snaking through the tree, Toomas turns and spins in his graceful dance through the terrain. I copy like a newborn fawn, the slight weight increase of my armour is throwing off my balance.
A behemoth tree looms into view, the dark red wood is instantly recognisable from my new armour plates, a Ferrum tree. Standing like a skyscraper with its horizontal forest of dense branches covering every inch.
I circle its immense diameter while running my hand along the ancient bark, passing several Satyrs along the way who were watching its branches and who bid me good day. A full sixty leaf falls before I return to Toomas, my mouth agape in sheer wonder at nature’s ability to grow such a colossus plant.
“She is just a sapling.” Toomas nods with pride.
“Holy Mother, are you serious?” I gawp even more.
“Ahaha, I am kidding. She is a fully grown Ferrum. A Tribe can harvest one for generations without doing any harm if they are respectful of her needs.”
One of the watching Satyrs appears from around the trunk, glancing both at us and the thick canopy of branches overhead.
“She falls!” A shout from the canopy.
“She falls!” The watchers shout at us.
Toomas pulls me back, and a large branch the size of a normal tree crashes to the ground. A spray of dirt and leaves explodes up to shower everything in a ten-metre radius.
“That is how we gather Ferrum for armour and tools.” He pokes my pauldron.
“So you harvest the branches and leave the main trunk. Sounds renewable.”
“Exactly, they are a rare species and each individual must be protected and respected. Let us climb her.” He makes for the trunk as the lumbermen descend, their arms bulging with wiry muscles as they leap and swing to the bottom.
“Hey Toomas, I enjoy climbing but do we have harnesses or safety ropes?”
The Bullman answers with a hearty laugh, pulling himself up and ascending rapidly. I originally assumed having hooved feet would be a disadvantage, before recalling the dexterity and balance of mountain goats I had seen in videos.
I decide the likelihood of hunters or Daemons being up the tree is pretty low so I store my sword away. In this situation, it will be Newton’s law going for round two on my body that kills me.
I grab the first branch and hoist myself up, the tough grain of the wood offering a decent grip and purchase.
I strain my neck to catch sight of Toomas disappearing, once again, into the maroon abyss.