"How imprudent, very imprudent" The words contain scolding, but also concern. "It was partly my fault. I shouldn't have forced you to use your talent. I was impressed. But how, how reckless"

Ivy carries the boy on her back, the shadow cast by the brim of her hat almost hiding him. The witch with one arm holds one of the boy's legs while he clings to her waist and neck, and with the remaining hand she pushes the brush aside using the staff. Camui has not felt his legs for a while, and it is still hard for him to breathe.

"You'll recover, but this better be a lesson for you" Ivy says.

They walk through the grove towards the hut. Camui shows her the way. The embarrassment of being loaded as a backpack makes him talk just enough and indispensable. His grandfather always told him that if he ever found himself in the company of a good woman, it would be he who would have to help carry the weight. Not the other way around.

"Are you hungry? Let's rest for a few seconds"

He bends down so that Camui can get off his back. The boy slides down, and carefully, he sits on the root skirt of a tree. The witch reaches up, reaches a hand over her hat, and plucks a berry from a handful growing camouflaged among the leaves and petals. He stares at the fruit with interest, shakes and squeezes it, it is soft and full of juice.

"They are berries of the Nomad King. Go on, eat it"

An instinctive wariness, cultivated by years of being treated badly by outsiders, makes Camui face Ivy with narrowed eyes. Then he remembers how she protected him. Camui's eyes widen, and his expression softens. He pops the berry into his mouth and chews, the juice is cool and sugary. Within seconds a revitalizing warmth spreads through his body, and the pain disappears, along with the burning of his muscles, and the fresh cuts under the bandages on his hands, leaving barely any marks. The boy lets out a gasp, looks down at his chest, surprised by the sudden good condition of his body, no fatigue, no hunger, no thirst. He stands up with a little hop.

"Impressive..."

"Yes, but don't divulge it. These berries will be a secret between us"

Camui looks at her and nods.

"You packed a lot into the figurine" Ivy says. "So much speed, so much confidence. To some extent it's natural that you got carried away.... Primal instincts are very powerful"

"Grandfather taught me how it was done, the carving"

Focus and cut, ignore distractions, just leave what's worth. He practiced those lessons a lot, although he still has a long way to go. However, his grandfather could no longer teach him because of the change.

"So he's a sculptor like you"

"I'm not that good. I hurt myself"

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Of course you hurt yourself, silly"

Ivy taps him on the forehead with the side of her staff. Camui, serious and calm, reaches up and strokes his head.

Your body is not trained, you can't force it to perform these hare-like acrobatics without paying a high price. It's a tremendous burden for anyone, especially a child.

"I'm a man"

"In that case, man, thank the Sculptor God that you didn't end up dead of a heart attack, and thank the Slayer Goddess that you didn't kill the prospector. A couple of strong words wouldn't have been enough to calm down four Fortalemen with wounded pride and a dead superior"

Camui blushes with grief and avoids saying more. Now that the young man is recovered, Ivy resumes her march.

With each new step, Camui's mind shifts from the Fortalementa seeker to darker and more lurking matters. The hut is near, but now heading to the feeling he once considered home feels like stepping into a spider's nest. Ivy notices out of the corner of her eye how the boy's countenance darkens. The witch decides to speak.

"Tell me what happened to your grandfather"

Camui frowns. It is uncomfortable, but he forces himself to get the story off his chest.

One night last winter, his grandfather Rod heard noises outside the cabin. Snow was falling and the wind was roaring loudly, but above the fierce nature, strange scratching could be heard, something scratching at the wood, tearing off pieces of wall. It occurred to Camui that it was a wolf or some other wild animal, so he grabbed a bow and his quiver to go outside, but his grandfather stopped him, as if suspecting that the presence outside was about something alien and strange. Equipped with his bow and arrows, Rod removed the planks holding the door shut and gave him exact instructions not to leave until he returned.

"For a while I heard nothing and became impatient. It was strange that my grandfather was taking so long if it was only to scare off an animal. I went to the door to peek out, when..."

The door opened and there stood his grandfather, the icy wind whipping at his back, hunched to the right, wearing an unrecognizable smile.

"Serve me dinner, you brat" he demanded in very chewed words, as if they were hard to say, and he swung in without closing the door, his arms limp at his sides.

Camui jumped and wondered, was that his grandfather? The one who had scolded him so many times to keep his back straight? The one who, despite his age, had never let himself be dominated by the weights of old age?

He had Rod's face, but something in his gaze seemed out of place, empty, and it filled Camui with an icy terror. Camui dared not ask any questions. Closed the door and proceeded to serve the meat and potato stew he was preparing to warm his stomach. Rod sprawled out on one of the chairs in front of the table and asked:

"Feed me. Feed your old man"

His grandfather spent the next few months lying in his bed, wallowing in increasing rottenness since Camui stopped coming over to change his sheets and merely appeased his appetite by hunting and cooking for him. It reached a point where Camui could no longer sleep in the hut, fearful of what lay in his grandfather's bedchamber, and he roared for more and more meat, and demanded liquor to the point of forcing Camui to sneak into the village at night to steal.

A week before the fair, the boy made up his mind not to return to Rod's place, and spent his nights sleeping in the high branches of the trees, with his knife close to his chest as a countermeasure to any varmint that might surprise him and change.

"Grandfather did not drink liquor, nor did he send me to steal. He was strict and fair, he was good. Nor did he stay in bed all day, eating, without bathing or moving. What he is now at home is different, something bad" He clenches his fists close to his heart. "Miss..."

"Say me Ivy"

"Miss Ivy... Can you help my grandpa?"

"I told you, I'm a mistakes hunter. I came on the trail of one. If my instinct is right, the change your grandfather underwent is linked to my business"

Ivy prays she's wrong. Otherwise it would mean that Camui's grandfather suffered a terrible fate.