Into the Deep Wood

Veriticus Botanicus, better known as Truth Creeper, was a unique small plant with thin stems and tiny white flowers. The flower would be considered a weed only growing in northwestern floodplains - had it lived long enough to inconvenience anyone. Each plant on its own had a lifespan of three days, only blooming for an hour. For all its popularity and high demand, the flower had to be picked at very particular temperatures, certain times of day, and only during its bloom

In small doses, it effectively worked as a very potent truth serum.

Neither one of them spoke as they were escorted out of Avgusta’s home. The old woman had thanked them graciously and profusely, never acknowledging the poison she had put into their drinks.

Marat, for the sake of his further well being in life, had at this point sworn to never touch a cup of tea again.

They walked back to the cottage, both contemplating what had been said –and previously been left unsaid.

Her mind kept going back to his words.

What were you planning on doing with a god?

Love him.

It made her chest tight. For the very first time, this thing, this - curse - it did not feel as a curse. For a small glimpse, it felt real. Wanted. Awaited. He’d decided already he was going to love it.

She felt tears well up and became very conscious of that part of her body - where the ugly, rough scar still ran across her torso. She could not feel it. She could not even be sure it was there if it were not for the nights when she woke up retching.

It was… wanted.

He opened the door for her without making eye contact. As soon as it closed behind him, Val swept around, wanting to explain that she had not meant to tell the old woman so many things, but as she opened her mouth to speak, his hands found the sides of her face gently, and he stopped any words with his mouth on hers. Its intensity sent a warm tremble originating in her chest and working through her body –turning into flames. Her hands found him, pulling him against her.

He allowed the momentum to spin her around, forcing her back against the door.

The tension born of the silence after words were spoken came all at once yet remained held back in devastatingly slow and deliberate movements.

You.

His weight threatened to crush her, yet protectively loomed over her as slow, warm hands explored. Painstaking, restrained movements commanded her to beg, but the words wouldn’t form - instead manifesting in breaths building, hands clutching, and muscles tensing. The arch of her back against the wooden door, his hand needing to brace them both against its frame.

Only you.

Sensations faded into a dizzying flow. The sweat and heat driven into the depths of their minds. They shared one breath, one quiver, one last grasp for the control that would delay the inevitable end. And even when it had, his head remained buried in her neck; even then, they shared one heartbeat at a time between them.

Forever you.

Ever since that first day when Avgusta had given them her blessing to stay, the demeanor of the townspeople had changed toward them. They would be greeted by their neighbors, the shopkeepers would idly chat with them at their storefronts, and after a hard day's work, men would invite Marat to drink with them.

It was only the little children that remained immune to the change of heart, still keeping clear of Marat and scattering in giggles when he would be near.

For the lack of hunt and quickly diminishing funds, Marat had taken up a job for a local carpenter. Marat’s employer, Khaleel, had grown close with him in the passing months. Val would even call them friends - although the thought of Marat socializing felt extremely out of place.

Val was invited to help the local apothecary, who also seemed to hold a position of being a midwife.

Despite her prior thoughts, she was profoundly at odds with it. One day, she would wish to toss herself down the steep steps of the sidewalks; another, she would worriedly examine herself in the mirror, looking for any sign of fullness to her body.

But, it had not come.

They had been in the River Cities for two months. Frost began to appear on plants and windows overnight, but it did not take long for it to melt in the early morning.

The hunters’ knives grew dusty under their mattress. However, Marat still regularly took the All-Father’s Reach beyond the town and practiced his marksmanship - aiming for targets secured to trees and leaning against rocks.

Both were careful not to do anything to displease the townspeople, understanding that the exile from Chelkalka would mean being at the mercy of the war-ridden lands, with nowhere else to go.

The war spread its influence, and word of it traveled fast.

It seemed that Korschey was at the threshold of the White Cities - although Batyr’s armies had been tough to drive back. Korschey had the men and the money, but in Batyr’s kingdom, they had no advantage. Sudraj men were savage in battle, and northerners would claim that Nothing-touched fought them in the fields in their stead.

The East, after the death of their king and the desertion of their armies, had fallen back to scattered warlords and their domains.

Yet still, it would not last.

Korschey was clever. His generals were men hardened by harsh northern winters. With Johannes at his side, his army had grown by half.

But, the general was not at the front lines; he did not lead men into the southern lands.

Either Korschey did not trust him, or perhaps he had been sent off for a different task…

Marat had left for the woodshop early, but Val lay in bed staring at the wooden ceiling for a long time, too long, until she knew that she would not arrive to work on time.

Her dreams came and went, disturbed only by the urgency of having to relieve herself in the night. And, it had certainly become very urgent as of late.

She dreamt of the Hag again.

Val thought her nightmares would lessen over time, but they had been as vivid as before. The old woman’s withered, bony fingers across her throat, tying the rope that would keep her from getting to the glass of water on the table.

Always, salvation out of reach.

Avgusta waited on her way to the apothecary.

“Valeria! My dear!” The woman hobbled to her, leaning heavily on her cane.

“Good morning, All-Mother.” Val tried to put on her best smile, although the day held a heavy weight on her already.

“I have been waiting for you.”

“Oh?” Val said, surprised. Avgusta had not paid attention to them in a long time.

“Would you slow your pace for an old woman’s stride? I am headed to the very same place you are.”

Val slowed, and Avgusta matched her speed, taking her arm.

“I have a surprise for you, my dear.” She said, a big smile spreading across her face. “Come! Come! I simply cannot wait to show you.”

Marat had worked alongside Khaleel since days after they arrived. The man was one of the first to greet them in the streets and had pulled Marat aside right off, asking him if he was looking for work - there was much demand for the skills of a carpenter, and the opportunity of having a seasoned outsider was one he did not mean to miss.

The work had been physically demanding but not difficult. Khaleel was passionate about his craft and patient in his instructions. It was a strange feeling to see one the same age as he but with a life that resulted from a path not traveled, as Khaleel had a wife and kids.

Knowing what he knew, it felt as if his own trajectory had changed. The thoughts were terrifying and exciting, but most of all, new. Who he had been for the entirety of his life, a selfish, egotistic man capitalizing on the talents of his youth –was disappearing.

He thought, what would his father have thought of him in the days when he sat at court?

Avgusta led Val into the doors of the apothecary, where the midwife was just about to scold Val when she saw the old woman.

“All-Mother!” She exclaimed, then wiped her hands of powders she had just distributed among little glass jars.

“My dear, bright morning to you!” Avgusta’s face lightened, her eyes smiling. “Put those things away, why don’t you? I must ask for your help.”

“Of course, Mother.” The midwife did not question, only hurried to set the jars under the counter.

Avgusta led them both to the next room used as a workroom to extract the medicinal components of various plants and animals. In the middle of the room stood a large, sturdy table.

“Lay down, Valeria.” The All-Mother instructed.

Hesitantly, Val obeyed. Avgusta plucked several long hairs from the girl’s head as she got on the table. Val yelped out of surprise more than pain.

“Shh!” The old woman cooed. She called to the midwife to retrieve a sewing kit for her, and when she did, the old woman took a single needle out of it. “I would have done this sooner, my girl. But this only works once the quarter moon has passed, as did a quarter of your term.”

Val stared at Avgusta with worry, feeling her body tense. But, to her relief, the old woman had stepped away from the table. She stood at the window, squinting to see the ends of Val’s fine hairs. She threaded them through the needle and carefully tied their ends.

The midwife stood nearby while the old woman stepped to her side. She held the needle in one hand and the end of the hair in the other - hovering it above Val’s abdomen; then she released the needle.

The needle dropped fast, and Val took in a deep breath, expecting it to stick into her skin. But, instead, it swung in circles above her until the force of the drop had left it.

Avgusta’s face had held a noticeable frown.

“It’s a girl.”

It’s a girl.

The words repeated over and over in Val’s mind. She found herself running down the hill toward where she knew Marat had been working with Khaleel.

It’s a girl.

The weight of the world had left Val.

The fears surrounding the birth of a godchild, the danger it posed to all of them, the consequences of the child ending up in the wrong hands - it had all fallen away. The responsibilities of the world were no longer on her shoulders.

Free to be here with Marat. And raise their daughter.

For a second, a cold ran through her at the thought of a golden-haired and light-eyed child, her features not at all like Marat’s. But she pushed them away.

She had been completely out of breath, her knees achy and feet on fire when she burst inside the mill. Khaleel had been standing in front of Marat, explaining something with a stirring motion of his hands. He paused at the sight of her.

“Marat…” She wheezed. It was the middle of the day; she should have been at the apothecary, and she could see that her arrival had already worried - and annoyed him.

“Are you alright?”

“Marat–” wheeze, “it’s a girl!”

At first, his brows furrowed, but then, as realization washed over him, his face paled, and his lips parted in words that he did not have. The number of heartbeats it took for him to say anything felt like minutes.

“How do you know?”

“Thread, needle,” wheeze, “Avgusta!”

“It’s a girl…” Marat whispered, feeling that his entire world had both collapsed in ruin and had been rebuilt in the same breath.

It’s a girl…

That night, Avgusta and Nadia showed up at their door.

“Congratulations!” Nadia told Val, setting the basket down on the table. “But what a day!”

“I would have said my peace earlier, my dear, but you’d ran off.” Avgusta smiled at them. Val could not get her own smile off her face. “We’ve brought you mushrooms, jams, fermented cabbage, and pickled beets.”

“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Val asked, already out of her seat.

“Perhaps not,” Marat muttered, and although Nadia shot him a nasty look, Avgusta looked unbothered.

“If it is no trouble.” The All-Mother agreed.

“A bit of hot water with lemon for me.” Nadia smiled her best smile, knowing that Marat was looking directly at her - but not meeting his eyes. “You’ve been here longer than any other stranger. To be here and not of here, well, that is a rare thing indeed.” Avgusta now looked to Marat as well. “It is by Valeria’s light that you have been allowed here, hunter. Your kind is especially unwelcome here. But your fates are tied so tightly that even laws as ancient as ours cannot untie the knot. Because we want Valeria to remain, you also have permission to do so. As long as you follow our rules and laws.”

“Thank you, All-Mother.” He said.

Having heard that, Avgusta seemed pleased.

“As you may know, all Golden are born here. It is the reason for our safety, the reason for our secrecy. If a king were to invade our lands, it would ensure that war broke out that would not end until all they who would bear godchildren were eradicated.” The old woman went right into it.

“How many?” Marat asked her.

“Two in the last fifty years alone. A drop in the time of humanity, and there were two.” Avgusta answered.

“And both bore sons?” Marat’s eyes were intensely focused on the old woman.

“And both bore sons.”

“There are two gods? Who else?”

“He is dead,” Nadia said in a dry tone, meaning to shut down his rising voice. It had worked because he blinked at her, as a child would.

“Dead?”

“Forty-five years ago, a king came to our doors. He brought with him gifts and promises. He’d chosen himself a bride of the girls suspected to hold the power of the gods.” Avgusta’s voice was somber, remembering.

“He took his bride away. When she fell pregnant, she was hidden from everyone’s eyes in a tower with no windows or doors. Until she came to term.” Avgusta continued. “The King had named his son long before he was born. And, when the babe was carried out of the tower - the King had his secret bride put to death. The godchild, so young, the name of power it was given - it was not for him to keep. And so the King took it for himself, tossing the child to the wolves beyond his castle’s walls.”

Avgusta’s frail, wrinkled hand slid to the ledger and turned the page. She pointed to a name that had first been circled and then scribbled out.

“This was she. The second was Elena - only fifteen years ago. You can imagine why we were so interested in what it is you brought to us, Valeria.”