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<< Then Full mast ahead! What are you waiting for, depraved animals?! In salt and flame, we’ll teach our enemies to cower when they hear the name of Commander Cordes! Massacre… >>
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Second Finger of the Hand of Cordes, Captain Easton Redbeard, rallying up his crew.
The young hunter's happiness at meeting a fellow human being was quickly tempered by the obvious insanity of the latter.
And the boy didn’t mean his reasonably stunted speech, he was actually quite understanding of the situation: 20 years without speaking with anything but volatiles would take their toll on anyone.
No, he was more worried by the fact that since their meeting, the hermit had been dialoging with himself while they climbed the huge tree that would host their “tea time”, as the other castaway had called it.
“Rescue! Of course, they came to rescue me, they wouldn’t leave such a brilliant professor on this desolate land!”
“AH! But I can’t leave yet! CAW, there is so much to do here! And my family Craah is here, right there, and I won’t abandon them!”
“Foolish, foolish, when am I going to get another opportunity to reach civilization when they have sent such a…”
The older man looked at him from over his shoulder, a doubtful look on his face.
“Capable hunter to look for me?”
Ormi decided to interfere with the discussion/monologue, politely commenting.
“I’ve said it already, and I’ll say it again, sir, I’m not here to help you. In fact, I’m also stranded, and it would be nice if you had some kind of insight into the island, since you have been here for a long time, no?“
The scatterbrained hermit deigned to end his manic discourse, and, grinning widely, answered the youngster.
“OF COURSE, my rescuer! I have plenty of insights! Insights about the birds, the weather, which plants are edible, and which plants will make you shit blood for a week! And Caww Caw, where to find the best insects, of course! It’s always a feast when the big larvae come out of the ground around Big John!”
The boy wisely decided to keep observing the one-sided discussion the man had with himself, and, maybe, just maybe, try to parse something useful from the apparently unstoppable stream of consciousness that was assaulting his senses.
The climb was slow but easy, the massive wooden pillar so large that you could almost walk in the indentations of its bark, and on the similarly huge ivy that embraced the entirety of its height.
Strange company aside, Ormi’s body felt warm, and some happiness at meeting someone, anyone, who could, partially, understand him, started to bleed through his young heart.
He didn’t realize how much he missed human contact until now.
Thinking back to some of the people at the monastery, maybe not all kinds of contact, but the probably harmless, if a bit jarring, hermit, was a definite step up compared to his previous situation.
Hearing a cacophony of squawks and cackles right in front of him, he shook himself out of his musings, to be met with a peculiar spectacle.
The birdlike human was clearly arguing with the most massive bird he had ever seen, and the intelligent glint of amusement in the condor-like eyes of the beast showcased that it was probably a common occurrence.
Maybe not so definite a step up. Maybe more of a side grade.
The squawking ended with a strong “Harumpff” from the man, and the vulture opened his wings, each twice as long as the boy was tall, to then dive and ascend, his large figure becoming smaller with each passing second.
His companion grinned at him, and with a wave of his hand, invited the youngster to take a look at what lay at the heart of the tree nest.
The hovel he was proudly showcasing was situated among the highest branches in the large tree; it seemed like no tools had been used to build it.
The smallest twigs of the giant, still large enough to comfortably sustain the weight of a carriage, were cleverly bent over time, forming the primary structure of the refuge, which, lying in the verdant sea on the crown of the forest king, was virtually invisible from the outside.
The hermit, like a good landlord, took him on a tour of his dwelling.
Ormi could not help but be fascinated by the work.
“For a madman left to his own devices, this stuff is impressive,” he thought as he followed the man nimbly moving through the foliage.
They arrived in front of the door, a tent made of feathers woven into strands of plant fiber.
The interior was spartan, a bed, a chair, and a table, all built in the same manner as the rest of the shelter, emerald leaves still growing from the fledgling branches, and in one corner sat a stack of books and scrolls the rough parchments similar to a kind of papyrus his master showcased him once.
His inspection was interrupted, as a soft voice rose in the silence “I didn't expect ... er guests, or else I would have woven another chair,” croaked the elder as he took a seat on the bed, and with a wave of his hand signaled the boy to take his place on the wooden seat.
He sat, surprised by how…calm the hermit seemed all of a sudden.
“So, you are not here to rescue me, ah? Then, what are you doing on the island? Are you maybe part of some adventurers' group ?” The sharp glint of intelligence coming from the previously cloudy eyes was unmistakable.
As was the man's curiosity, thick as a fog you could almost touch, and while his voice was still hoarse, words were freely flowing from his lips again, as if they had just been hibernating all that time, and were now woken from their sleep.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
If Ormi was surprised by the change, he didn’t show it, deciding to simply answer the question.
“No, as I said, I’m also stranded here. My ship was wrecked somewhere not too far from the island's eastern shore. From what I know, I’m the only survivor.” his gaze turned sour, and a stony expression fell on his face as he thought back on that night.
“I somehow managed to swim to the beach the night our vessel sank, around two years ago”.
The feathered figure's eyes grew wide as his mind put the various dots in order. After a brief pause, he exclaimed, “Wait, wait, are you telling me that you've been surviving alone in the jungle outside the basin for two years?!”
In response, he received a single nod of assent.
“And… you didn’t meet any strange creature? Anything particularly nasty? You have made it this far alone in the forest ?”
The boy almost nodded before raising a hand and making a so-so gesture.
“Sooo, you met the beasts, right? And you are still alive? Nightmares, all of them, and those, those…monstrous bears… abominable creatures. I personally saw a well-prepared mercenary squad get savaged by one of them without being able to even slow the bastard down”.
A dark cloud fell on the youth's face.
“Yeah, I have had a couple of close encounters myself. The one I met almost got me the forest time I saw it, and once I came back, he was my most difficult hunt, bar none.”
“Yes, yes of course, of course it was a difficult hunt…” the older man replied, before realizing what was actually said.
His eyes widened comically, and, in maybe a trick of the light or a trick of the cloak, the feathers on his chest and shoulders puffed out, as he let out a startled bird cry, almost falling from his bed in the process.
For the first time since they met, their roles seemed to have reversed.
Now, it was the hermit looking at him as if he were madness incarnate, born under his eyes to ridicule him.
He stuck a finger in his right ear, pulling out a sizable clump of wax, before turning back on Ormi.
“I’m sure I've misheard. You killed one of the what, exactly? Bear like otters? Bear like boars? Bear like weasels or those monkey-bears that kept throwing shit at my crew?”
The young hunter looked at him before slowly answering, his mind zapping around.
“I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen only the otters, and they were more wolflike than anything else, and for sure I’ve not seen anything even resembling a prey animal on the ground. On the other side, I’m certain that what I killed was a straight-up carriage-sized bear, so yeah, not much else really to mistake it with”.
Now, his unlikely companion was looking at him with respect, awe, and a healthy dose of fear in his eyes.
A few seconds were spent in an awkward silence before a croaking, rasping laugh left the still-unnamed hermit's lips.
“I’m in the same room as a madman, A Madman I say! And look at you, a young twig, felling a beast ten times his size! A well-conditioned twig, I have to say, but still, what you did would be celebrated in legends back on the mainland!”
Another smile split the face of the elder, and he rose from his bedside before giving a practiced, if rusty, noble bow.
“My name, oh hunter, is Herbert Norwall, previously academic, now member of the flock, and I would be honored if you shared your name with me“.
The sudden display was a surprise for Ormi, stunning him for a second, and, after he recomposed, he proudly smiled. Maybe the nutcase wasn’t so bad.
“My name is Omri, Herbert, and I’m pleased to meet you, despite all the circumstances”.
A shadow fell on the older castaway's face for an instant, too quick for the boy to notice, and he murmured something unintelligible, ending with a “not my place to pry”, before quickly answering his guest.
“Circumstances are what we make them out to be, my friend, Caw! Now, let me show some of the tricks I’ve learned while I was stuck in this godforsaken place!”
Omri’s interested gaze fell on the other man, who was now rustling in the various crannies of his nest, and, as various knick-knacks started flying around, haphazardly thrown by his host, his mind was focused on a single hope.
“Please, God, if you do exist, thank you know I have not been a very good believer, but listen to my plea. Make it so it's not something related to the bird”.
His pleas for once answered, Ormi’s unknowingly released a breath full of tension, as Herbert revealed one of the last things he expected from the loner.
A flask, full of a deep burgundy-colored liquid, sloshing around in heavy motions.
His newly found friend smiled brightly, revealing two rows of crooked, pearly white teeth.
“For all of the dangers of this hellish place, there are some upsides. One of them is that fermenting the edible fruits produced by some of our big wood-colored brothers produces the best alcohol you will ever taste”.
Popping the cork, he quickly took a swig from the glass container, loudly smacking his lips before passing the flagon.
“Come on, let’s celebrate your victory over the forest’s greatest terror!”
And so, in a verdant forest, in the depths of a treacherous island, two people devolved into one of the oldest forms of entertainment known to man: getting blackout drunk on fruity drinks.
The hours passed quickly, and words flew, the hermit's raspy voice getting smoother with each swing of his flask, while the boy’s voice got more and more slurred.
They traded stories of their time on the island, of their challenges and their successes.
Both avoided speaking of their past, the first not ready to remember his past life, the second, perhaps a bit touched in the head, but content in his little slice of weird paradise.
Herbert showed him what plant could be infused to make a refreshing tea when Omris's steps became as unsteady as his voice.
He told him what berries were edible for humans to consume and explained that many of the animals avoided them due to their constitution.
He explained what would leave your stomach broken, citing painful memories of trial and error that almost ended his life, laughing at his past self's stupidity: why even try, when his feathered friends took care of him as if he were one of their own.
The youth's soul almost left him when he realized that all the branches were now heavy, full of the giant birds that almost killed him just a few hours before.
The hermit laughed, telling him that if they wanted him dead, he would be, that they only wanted to scare him away, fiercely protective of their territory and their flock.
They spoke of many things, and when the sun came down, Herbert told him not to worry, that they had plenty of space for one more person to rest.
Ormi accepted the kind offer, and when they were preparing to hit the hay, he expressed his desire to get stronger, overcome his past self, and be able to impose himself over everything that wanted to stifle him, to cut off his wings and his path.
And just as they were ready to sleep, he asked a question.
“Herbert, have you ever thought about leaving the island? About returning to civilization?”
The old man looked at him, an almost tormented look in his eyes, before slowly coming to an answer.
“The first time I got here, in the valley, I was scared. Everyone but me died in terrible ways just outside of those jagged peaks, be it by a monster claw or by an insidious poison of some kind. I didn’t understand fully just how lucky I was with my birdies, but as the years passed, I found my peace”.
He paused, gathering himself.
“I thought many times about leaving, but for what? To find my death, just a few steps into the outside forest? In the shallow waters of the beaches surrounding the island? Or in the deep sea, between one landmass and the other?”
A sight, another pause, and then sound.
“Besides, the closest human settlement is three days of navigation away. Even if I knew how to build and steer something, I would probably die in some gruesome way, so I simply stopped thinking about leaving and decided to fully embrace my situation”.
He shrugged.
“Some people may call me mad, and I don’t deny that I miss some of the commodities that civilization brings, but I’m far happier now than I ever was before. Now, let’s rest, my friend. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be another eventful day”.
And Omri, bone tired from the many things that had happened, acknowledged the wisdom in the man's words, quickly drifting into sleep.
His last thought, as the sweet embrace of the dark pulled him into his arms, went to a specific phrase uttered by his new companion.
“Did he say society is three days of sailing away?”