NOVEL NEXT B2 - Chapter 31: "Why?"
Jeremiah's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he shut his mouth again.
The forest pressed close around them, each shifting leaf whispering just out of hearing. Somewhere in the canopy above, a bird let out a long, rippling note that faded into the green silence.
Billy bobbed a little closer, his bubble brushing Jeremiah's shoulder as if nudging him toward an answer.
Jeremiah tilted his head, studying her. "Beasts, of course. That's the whole reason I'm here."
Hazel gave a slow, considering nod. "I see. So, you're an adventurer, then? Come to strip them down for their valuable parts?"
His brow knit. "What? No! I run a pet shop. I need them alive."
Her smirk sharpened. "Ah, so you're a poacher? Snatching rare creatures to sell off to some wealthy collector?"
Jeremiah threw his hands up. "Maker above, no! It's not like—" He broke off, exhaling hard before pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He crossed his arms, more to hold himself still than out of defiance. "I told you — I run a shop. A pet shop. I need animals so I can sell them. Feed myself. Keep the lights on."
Hazel tilted her head, almost as if she were listening for something in his tone rather than his words. "Mm." Her tail flicked behind her. "That's what you do. But that's not why, Law Boy."
Jeremiah felt the beginnings of irritation flare again. "You're splitting hairs."
Hazel glanced over her shoulder at Mero, her grin sly. "Didn't you say he was quicker than this?"
Mero's mouth quirked in a mirror of hers. "He is. The kid just isn't used to thinking Wyrd yet."
Hazel turned back to Jeremiah and took a moment to look him up and down. "Am I?" she asked lightly, still moving in that slow orbit. "As I said, I need to know your purpose. Not just what you want to do, but why you're here." Her boots made no sound on the moss as she began to circle him, tail flicking lazily.
"It's not enough to name your goals — you have to know the reason behind them. Think of it like… triangulation. You might have the compass point, but without the rest of the bearings, you could walk right past your mark, or stop just shy of it without ever knowing."
She turned back and gestured into the forest. "Navigation in the Wyrd Wilds requires not just the where or the what, but the why."
Hazel's gaze flicked back to him, sharp and steady. "Despite how some fae like to make it seem, I'm not trying to be poetic or confusing. In this place, ambiguous intent breeds ambiguous terrain. If you only 'sort of' know the what, where, and why, then you will only ever 'sort of' find them."
Her words lingered in the air, heavy as the damp loam underfoot. Jeremiah's first impulse was to dismiss it as another of her riddles, but something in her tone snagged on a loose thread in his mind.
He stood there, eyes narrowing, the stillness of the Wilds pressing around him. The forest's breath was slow and deep — leaves whispering against one another in a language just out of reach, the faint musk of moss and wet bark clinging in his nose. Somewhere above, a bird loosed a long, rippling call that rose and fell like a question without an answer.
Jeremiah's thoughts skittered away from the moment, back to a sunlit memory of Sarah sitting cross-legged on the couch, hands moving animatedly as she explained one of her favorite topics — quantum mechanics. She'd been talking about uncollapsed waveforms, her voice carrying that rare mix of patience and excitement that only came when she thought he might actually get it.
"All possibilities exist at once," she'd said, tapping her temple, "until something — an observation, a decision, an intent — snaps them into one reality. Before that, the cat is both alive and dead. After that… well, you've picked your box."
He could almost hear her laugh, bright and teasing, as she ruffled his hair for being "only halfway there."
A prickle crawled down his spine. If the Wyrd was pure potential — a place without fixed form or identity — could it work similarly? He knew that the Wyrd couldn't be 'defined' until it was given an identity, a 'Name'. So, did that mean that before being named, it was nothing at all?... Or was it everything at once?
He drew a slow breath, tasting the metallic edge of damp stone in the air. The thought coiled tighter in his head until he couldn't keep it in. "Do parts of the Wyrd Wilds…" His voice felt tentative at first, like stepping onto thin ice. "Do they not even exist until someone decides what they are?"
Hazel's grin spread wide, sharp with satisfaction, as though she'd been waiting for him to connect the dots.
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Jeremiah felt the rush of it — a current of understanding that lit up pathways in his mind. He kept talking, almost to himself now, pacing a slow half-circle as if movement would help line the thoughts up. "The Training Grounds… they're already shaped. Defined by the System's framework, observed and anchored by the creatures it's pulled in. They're not pure Wyrd anymore. Not really. But…" He stopped, glancing out into the deeper forest where light seemed to bend and fade in unnatural ways. "They're still part of it. Which means they follow some of the same rules."
He turned back to Hazel, his brow drawn tight, the words half a question and half an answer he already knew. "The what, the where, the why… they're not just directions or guidelines, are they?"
Hazel's tail made a slow, approving arc in the moss.
"They're coordinates," he finished, and the moment he said it, the truth of it settled into place with the quiet finality of a lock turning.
Mero's laughter rang out through the trees, bright and unrestrained. He leaned back against a moss-draped trunk, wings flicking with amusement as he pointed a claw toward Jeremiah. "See? Told ya he'd figure it out."
Jeremiah exhaled through his nose, not quite sharing the enthusiasm. He shook his head, a crease furrowing his brow. "And you couldn't just tell me that from the start?"
Hazel tilted her head, her grin stretching slow and knowing. "I could have," she admitted, her voice rich with mischief and something deeper beneath it. "But even the way you come to understand this truth changes how the Wyrd Wilds respond to you. If I'd handed you my version, you'd be wandering around with my bearings, my compass — not your own. That's not the same as knowing it yourself." She stepped closer, her boots soundless on the moss, the faint scent of pine and wildflowers trailing her. "Being told is not the same as understanding. Out here, that difference can mean the line between finding what you're after… and walking straight into something that will eat you whole."
Her gaze held his, steady and sharp. "If you ever hope to wander the Training Grounds on your own, without someone to hold your hand, you need to learn how to ask the Wilds for what you want in your own language. Otherwise…" She let the words trail off, her smile sharpening. "Well. I've seen what happens. You wouldn't like it."
Then, in a flash, her expression lightened, and she grinned up at him. "So. Now that you've got the 'what,' how about telling me the 'why'? Then I might just help you find the 'where.'"
Jeremiah hesitated, the question settling into his chest like a stone dropped into deep water. He stared past Hazel for a moment, into the layered shadows of the forest, hearing the faint sigh of wind in the leaves above. His first answer — the one she'd dismissed — hovered at the edges of his mind. It hadn't been wrong. It was simply too broad, too vague, like giving someone a city when they needed a street. Technically useful, maybe, but far too open for interpretation. And if the Wilds truly shaped themselves in response to intent, then the wrong kind of vagueness could twist his request into something dangerous or useless.
He needed to be precise. Targeted. The Wilds had to know exactly what he was asking for.
Slowly, the shape of it began to form. He didn't just need beasts — he needed beasts he could work with. Creatures who would meet his bond halfway, even if they weren't friendly at first. Those who wouldn't break themselves or him in the process of being tamed.
His mind drifted, pulling together scattered threads. Tish and Tosh, curled up together in the kennel, refusing to be parted. Sissy and her kittens, blinking sleepily from their enclosure. Maddie, bristling and wary, who had found her place in the shop only because Lewis had seen something worth saving. Milo, the old hound with patient eyes, who had come to the Menagerie not to be sold, but to rest.
His mouth started moving before he'd fully realized what he was saying. "I don't just want animals to sell," he said slowly, the words feeling awkward on his tongue at first. "I want to bring back beasts I can work with — ones that can connect to people. I'm not looking to fill cages just so someone can pick out the prettiest thing in the window."
Hazel's ears tipped forward, her expression unreadable, but her tail stilled in interest.
Jeremiah kept going, the words smoothing out as the thought solidified. "I want the shop to be more than just a place to buy pets. I want it to be a place where connections are made. Between people and beasts. Between lives that wouldn't have met otherwise. I want it to be a place where both sides come away better than they were."
The click of realization was almost physical — a sense of something aligning, like tumblers falling into place in a lock. The forest air seemed to deepen around him, as though the Wilds themselves had leaned in to listen.
He drew in a breath, meeting Hazel's gaze. "That's my why. I'm not here for random catches or trophies. I'm here to find the ones that need to be found."
As the words left his lips, a wind picked up and blew through the forest, kicking up fallen leaves and rustling the tree tops.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the distant call of some unseen bird. Then Hazel's grin returned, slower and sharper this time. "Now we're getting somewhere, Law Boy."
Mero chuckled low in his throat, folding his arms. "And now, the fun part begins."
Jeremiah wasn't sure if that was meant to reassure him.
The light filtering through the canopy shifted, green-gold patterns sliding over Hazel's face as she turned toward the deeper forest. "Now the Wilds know where to take you."
Jeremiah glanced at the trees, which looked no different than they had before — but there was something in the air now. A subtle shift. The shadows felt less like a wall and more like a curtain, the paths between the trunks hinting at new shapes and colors just beyond sight.
Hazel turned on her heel and started walking again, this time in a deliberate line rather than a looping drift. "Come on, Law Boy. We've wasted enough daylight."
Jeremiah followed, Billy zipping along at his side. The undergrowth seemed to part for Hazel, narrow game trails widening just enough to keep pace. Mero took to the air, darting between shafts of gold and green, his laughter echoing faintly in the canopy.
After a while, Jeremiah realized he was no longer trying to guess where they were heading. The tension in his shoulders had eased, his steps falling into rhythm with Hazel's. Ahead, the forest opened into brighter light, the air carrying the faint scent of water and something sweet — like crushed berries.
Hazel glanced back over her shoulder, her grin sharp but approving. "Oh, and keep that 'why' close," she said. "Out here, it's the only map worth following."
Jeremiah nodded once, more to himself than to her, and stepped into the brighter green.