Day 31: Harvest

Genre: Fantasy
Universe: Wolf’s Eye (Fanfiction)
Rating: PG-13 / TW: Mentions of grief, loss, death
 

Author’s Note: Today’s special prompt is a fanfiction of one of my dearest friend’s novel in progress, Wolf’s Eye. But sheer coincidence, we both have a character named Quill in our casts. I would like to point out for you that QuickSilver’s Quill is a lanky, blonde and rather human-shaped mage, and Wolf’s Eye’s Quill is a domovina, a home guardian creature who can take the shape of a cat or dog.

     Wren was enjoying the mild weather as she walked alongside her faithful companion, Quill. They had been traveling for a few days, with plans to meet someone in the village of T’Burnian hopefully within the next day or so. This was a hope for the same reasons that also caused Wren to find it harder to enjoy the pause in the heat wave that had been plaguing them as of late.

     “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Quill pondered aloud.

     “We are not,” Wren stated with a hint of stubbornness only carried by those who know they are lost and do not wish to admit it.

     Quill sat on his haunches, partly tired and slightly annoyed. “Perhaps it is best to turn around and try the other path at the last crossroads?”

     “I told you, we’re not lost.” Wren frowned as she swore she saw Quill roll his eyes. She turned to continue down the path and caught sight of a blue flash, which, taking a few steps forward, she found to be the bright boot trim of a young boy who was making his way out of the brush and towards the path she was standing on.

     Wren felt a wash of relief. “See? We’re not lost if there are people around here,” she called over her shoulder to Quill before turning her attention back towards the boy. Perhaps he could confirm that they were heading the correct direction. “Hello!” she called out.

     The boy looked up in surprise, froze for a breath, then bolted back into the forest with the same flash of blue that Wren had first spotted.

     “Wait!” she called out after him. “I only wish to know--” Wren cut herself off with a sigh, not feeling the most inclined to run through a patch of thorny bush after a small child who could pass through it much more easily than her. “Damn.”

     Quill leaned against her leg in quiet apology, not wanting to speak aloud in case the child was still within hearing distance. Wren reached down and gave him a friendly scritch behind the ear in return. “We just continue on, then?”

     Quill gave a small ruff of agreement and the two continued down the path. No more than a few minutes later, Wren felt the familiar sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She could tell Quill sensed it as well, his gate slightly stiffening as he raised his nose into the air to smell. They were being followed.

     A snap of twig next to her was all the priming Wren needed before she lunged, both hands finding and gripping the shoulders of the young lad, who screeched in surprise. “Let--Let go of me!”

     “First you run, and now you follow,” Wren semi-scolded the boy in a more friendly than angry tone. He twisted in her hands, but she refused to let go with the hope that the even pace of her words would at least somewhat calm his writhing. “I mean you no harm, you can stop that.”

     Eventually the boy, realizing he wasn’t winning this fight, did stop. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Mum said not to talk to strangers.”

     Carefully, while keeping an eye on him in case he chose to bolt again, Wren eased her grip on the boy’s shoulders. “I’m Wren,” her words became softer now. “Tell me your name and we’ll no longer be strangers.”

     The boy blinked wide wood-brown eyes at her, reminding Wren of a fawn not long from its mother. “Thomas,” he said after a moment, then, glancing between her and Quill, he quickly blurted out, “Your dog talks.”

     Quill made a rough sound somewhere between surprise and a laugh. Wren paused, unsure of what to say. The two had made a habit of keeping Quill’s true nature private, as to avoid tension or fear, but the way young Thomas looked at Quill spoke more of wonder than terror.

     Wren glanced down at her companion, who shrugged slightly before nudging the boy in the chest with his nose. “I only speak to special humans.”

     Thomas’s eyes widened even more. Wren wondered how much it was the confirmation of Quill’s voice or the fact the boy had been just informed that he was special. Thomas carefully reached out to stroke behind Quill’s ear, which the domovina happily allowed. “I knew I wasn’t hear’n things!”

     “You mustn’t tell others, alright?” Wren crossed her arms.

     “Oh, I won’t, I promise.” This Thomas was nothing but smiles as he continued to pet Quill, who happily continued to enjoy it.

     Wren watched the sight for a few moments before returning to her original inquiry. “Do you live around here? We lost our bearings not too long ago and were hoping there was a village nearby we could get directions from.”

     “Oh, my village is right up the path,” Thomas grinned. “And if you walk out the other side and stay on the road, T’Burnian isn’t too far from us. We trade with them a lot.”

     Wren was happy the boy felt safe enough to over-answer questions now. The confirmation that they were heading in the correct direction after all was welcome. “Good.”

     Thomas rubbed Quill’s back. “What’s your name?”

     “I am Quill,” he nudged the boy’s arm with his nose.

     “We should keep going,” Wren motioned down the path. “We’ve got business to attend to in T’Burnian.”

     “Oh.” Thomas’s shoulders sank and he bit his lip. “I guess you can’t, then.”

     “Can’t what?” Wren asked, confused.

     “I came out here for my Mum,” he explained, kicking the dirt with his shoe. “She said she needed peppermint for her stomach, cuz it wasn’t feeling good. But I can’t find any.”

     “And you wanted to know if I could help you find it?”

     Thomas pointed at Quill. “He’s got a good nose, right? Peppermint can’t hide from a dog’s nose!”

     Quill gave a quick bark of agreement. “Of course it can’t!”

     Wren sighed. They had been derailed so often on this trip already… but Quill was already trotting off the path. Wren held out her palms and resigned herself to a bit of herb hunting.

❖ ❖ ❖

     It didn’t take as long as Wren feared it would to find what Thomas needed for his mother. Even if it had taken longer, Wren couldn’t argue that it was pleasant to watch Quill and the boy make somewhat of a game out of it. Wren knew that her and her companion’s journey as of late did not have much room for anything that was not serious or otherwise sober. It was a joy to watch Quill dart behind a bush to come around behind Thomas and spook him, only to have Thomas jump on the large dog’s back to try to wrestle with him. Even after they collected what Thomas needed and had started back down the path, the two played, racing and making general mischief as they traveled.

     But playtime could not last forever and Wren could now make out the signs of a village ahead through the trees. She found it strange, however, that she heard no sounds that she would expect of a village, even one of a smaller size, at this distance. Something negged at her mind, and as someone whose life often depended on knowing when something was off, she called out to the boy.

     “Thomas…?”

     The boy, clutching the peppermint, grinned wide. “Don’t worry, Miss Wren. I know I have to keep Quill’s secret.” He gave the pup another rub around the ears. “Come on! My mom’s going to be so excited to meet you!”

     With that he started on a gallivanting run up the main throughway of the village. A village that Wren could now see was definitely unpopulated, the unkept buildings showing what seemed to be years of disuse. Grass grew tall and other plants had creeped over porches and windows in an attempt to take the homes back to the land. No lights could be seen in windows or doorways - even as some of the house’s doors were left wide open, exposing the insides to the elements.

     Quill stopped at the edge of town for a moment. Wren spoke, concerned. “What happened here?”

     Quill gave a sharp bark and chased after Thomas. Wren, in turn, chased after Quill. They only stopped as they reached a home, in the same run-down condition as the others, that Thomas, seemingly unaware, happily pushed the door open to and rushed inside. “Mum! Mum! I made some new friends!”

     Quill, slowing to a trot, followed Thomas up to the doorway before stiffly stopping. Wren, from the street, watched as he lifted his paw and stepped quickly backwards with a light whine.

     “What is it?” Wren asked him as she caught up to her companion. Quill did not answer, nor did he need to, as she was able to take in the sight for herself.

     The inside of the home was falling apart just as much as the outside. What was left of the furniture was rotting, covered in dust, or a mixture of both. If humans had been here, they had left it in a mess, perhaps in their haste to leave.

     In the middle of the floor was a boot laying on its side. It was aged from exposure, but Wren could still make out the faded sapphire blue trim around the top and heel.

     Quill was first to break the silence.

     "It is best we leave.”

❖ ❖ ❖

     It was a heavy mood that followed the two as they continued down the path - just as Thomas had instructed - and the sun was just setting as they reached their destination. Even as the events of the day weighed in a strange way on their minds, it did not stop the pangs of hunger that came with this time of day. Wren and Quill found the local inn without too much trouble, and in a good turn of luck, also found that dinner was being served.

     Wren sat at one of the tables in the common room. Quill, now cat shaped, quietly rested in her lap. The owner of the inn, an older woman who looked fit and healthy for her apparent age, soon brought Wren a hot bowl of steaming stew and a mug of something that smelled wonderful and somewhat sweet. Between the mug and the rising scent of herbs and rabbit, it was all enough to pull a growl from Wren’s belly.

     But a morbid curiosity gnawed at Wren even more than her hunger. She raised a hand slightly as the Innkeeper turned to go about her business, stopping her. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

     “I cannot guarantee you I have an answer, but you’re welcome to try,” the Innkeeper stated with a smile.

     “On our--my, way here,” Wren began, “We passed through a village that was abandoned--”

     The Innkeeper shook her head. “Oh, best not to talk about that too much. Happened years ago but... Lots of people round here lost family and friends when… well. When it happened.”

     Wren didn’t want to pry too much, but still, after the strange happenings with Thomas, she needed to know. What had happened to the poor boy? To his family and friends? “I don’t wish to bring you pain, but if you could tell me what happened? Plainly, even.”

     “Politics,” the Innkeeper said flatly. “One thing led to another and it ended with the town’s well being poisoned. By the time we figured out what happened… No one made it. My daughter and grandson…” The Innkeeper seemed to pause a moment, raising her knuckle to her lips. Wren could tell it was the movement of someone trying not to hold back tears and felt her heart sink.

     “I’m sorry,” Wren apologized, feeling that knowledge was enough. “Thank you for answering my question.”

     The Innkeeper fanned her face with her hand. “No, no, it’s alright. Grief is a heavy stone, but… I find it easier to talk about them, from time to time, over the years.” The Innkeeper paused again, but not for grief. Wren realized she had spotted Quill in her lap, and hoped that she wouldn’t further vex the woman by having brought an animal inside her establishment.

     “Your cat,” the Innkeeper began, a hint of a sad smile coming her face. “Thomas, my grandson, he would have loved it. He was always so curious with animals, it got him in trouble more than once.”

     Wren smiled as pieces fell into place. “I’m sure Quill here would have loved him, too,” she offered kindly, and felt a steady purr rising in Quill’s chest as confirmation. Another thought sprung into her mind and rolled off her tongue with surprising ease. “If you ever wish to talk about your grandson, I’d be happy to listen.”

     The Innkeeper looked unsure. She looked at Wren, as if trying to read her intentions through her face. Nervously, the Innkeeper’s fingers tugged at her apron and she gave a glance around the otherwise quiet room.

     Then, with a nod, she sat down across from Wren at the table.

fin