Chapter 04

I simply didn’t understand. The small bear-looking beast had simply waltzed in, destroyed my stove grate, eaten my food, and then simply left. I remembered the shivers that coursed down my spine when it had turned towards me. Though it was dark, my eyes had adjusted enough that I could make out some detail.

The beast was almost exactly like a bear. It stood on its hind legs like a bear would. Its paws were exactly like a bear’s. Even its ears were like a bear’s. There was one exception, however. Its face. Whereas a bear had a snout, this creature’s face was almost flat. Its eyes were most peculiar. It had massive eyes. Mammoth eyes. Its mouth was wide and filled with long, sharp canines.

What among the gods was that?

With the morning came a brisk chill. I left the warmth of my cot, made my bed, and stoked the fire. I was dismayed when I saw the true damage the stove grate had taken. A beast such as that wouldn’t care for the wellbeing of a stove grate, so it was rather hard for me to be upset about it.

I tried my new door and couldn’t help but smile as it effortlessly swung open. I paused for a moment, recognizing the strong smell of fresh fish and saltwater. It had snowed all night, and continued even now. The snow was light and had not been enough to cover the monster’s tracks. Nor the spill of fish that lay before my cabin.

What? Where do you all come from?

There were footprints in the snow that angled towards the woods from the spill of fish. They matched those that I suspected belonged to my visitor last night.

Did you eat my fish, and then bring me more?

For the life of me, I couldn't understand why it would have done such a thing. I knew that animals were intelligent. My time in these woods were filled with stories that proved just that, so I tried to think critically.

Is this an offering? A sort of thanks? Perhaps an apology? A trade? Do you want me to bake some more fish?

In the back of my mind I wondered if the fish had been poisoned and I was stepping into a trap. Something in my heart scolded me for thinking that way. I listened for any sort of tilted feeling in my gut, but it was silent.

I guess I’ll bring you all in and throw you on the stove.

I rolled back the sleeves of my overly large wool sweater, and crouched to collect the fish. I was soothed by the task, but perplexed by the circumstance. When I’d dug the last fish out of the snow, it hit me how quiet it was. The birds weren’t chirping as they normally would. As I got to my feet, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt a shiver snake from the back of my brain to the base of my spine.

You’re still around, aren’t you?

I figured I wouldn’t be able to see it, but I looked around the clearing and peered into the woods anyway. The monster was not yet gone. I could feel it. I could feel its eyes watching me. It was still around, and that disturbed me just the littlest bit. When a monster was that fixated, it usually meant trouble.

I really don’t want to turn on my quest log. If this persists, I might have to so that I can stay alive.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone on a quest. I don’t even remember what the last reward had been, nor which god I had assigned to a quest path. I did not like that I was considering revisiting those things. I just wanted to be away from it all and live my life without quest screens, inventory screens, and all that.

I still had my skills, but I did my best not to use them. The only exception was my axeman skill. I regularly used wood in a multitude of ways and it saved me a lot of effort.

Will this monster change all that? Will I have to return to the life I left?

I decided to filet half the fish and do a long and slow bake on them throughout the day. I made sure the embers were low and smoldering. Since there were so many fish, I salted and stored the other half.

Then I grabbed some fat, some nuts, and smeared it all on the plate I reserved for the birds. The plate went on the roof, and I returned to prepare some breakfast after calling out “good morning!” to the woods and animals. I was a bit saddened not to hear bird feet scraping against the roof. It made my morning extra lonely.

Since the stove was on low heat, I decided to make a simple salad with some previously smoked fish, chopped nuts, and some dried herbs. The salad was crunchy from the thick leafy greens. The dressing I used was a simple mustard seed and water mix. Nothing fancy—just easy and fairly tasty.

I set my only chair at the threshold of the door by the stove and propped the door open with the stone I kept for just that. Then I watched the snowfall while I ate without hurry.

Snow fell on the toes of my boots. Snow fell in the clearing. Snow fell on the fire pit and logs for seating. Snow fell on the path to the sea. Snow fell on the trees and branches. Snow fell on the undergrowth. Snow fell on the head and shoulders of the monster standing halfway between my cabin and the woods. I froze.

What the… How did I not notice you?

An eerie shiver lifted my skin. I held my breath between fight and flight. The monster was horrifying in broad daylight. It’s eyes were massive, each the size of my hands if I splayed my fingers. They barely fit onto its round face. I couldn’t see its eyelids, so the eyes were wide, perfect orbs that stared straight through to my soul. The strange beast watched me without blinking. Its fur was brown with streaks and grey. Some of the tips reflected in the same manner that fish scales did. The fur around the inside of its ears were brown, but for some reason resembled baby chicken feathers.

It was smiling. A long line split its face from the very back of one furry cheek, to the very back of the other furry cheek. I remembered what lay hidden in that maw.

It’s a bear in every other aspect, but its face is so strange!

We stared at each other for the longest time while snow drifted diagonally between us. Enough time had passed that a wind whistled between us and dragged newly fallen leaves across fresh snow.

One of us has to do something eventually.

I decided to slowly return my fork to the salad. The moment I moved, I saw the irises of the monster perform wild movements, as though each iris were independently dialing in to an exact focus on what I was doing. I slowed my movements even more until I let my fork go and it softly clicked against the wood bowl. The monster’s ears switched forward and its eyes began to throb and pulse.

“Hello,” the beast said with a voice exhumed from deep earth.

My heart sprinted into a panic. It began beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears. The beast smiled even wider, revealing a thin glimpse of thick teeth.

“Hello,” I said.

“Do you have a name?” it said.

“Hawkin. Hawkin Ballow.”

“I’m Thrush.”

Snow fell in the woods.

It can speak my language. What among the gods is this creature? What does it want with me? Its behavior has been so strange. Does it want fish? Is that it?

“Do you like fish?” I said.

Thrush tilted his head and regarded me with those massive multicolored eyes. I couldn’t help but stare back into them. They were textured like sponges that had been thinly sliced and stacked upon each other in varying colors.

This creature—Thrush—is such an odd…

“Yes,” Thrush said.

“You do like fish?”

“Yes.”

Snow fell on my sleeves when the wind turned towards me. Thrush’s fur wavered in the wind. It was as though the world had two hands clothed in robes of wind that tried to bring us together to converse some more. I cleared my throat.

“Would you… would you like some baked fish?”

“Did you cook the fish I left for you?”

“They’re cooking right now. It’s a slow cook, so they won’t be ready for a few hours. I can add some wood and have all the fish done sooner if you’d like?”

“I can wait,” Thrush said.

“Are you cold?”

“I’m never cold.”

What do we do now? I don’t really want to invite Thrush in. He’s keeping his distance which shows his wariness of me, right? Maybe he’s afraid that I’m the monster? I imagine from his point of view that I could be a threat to him. Perhaps he’s lost and hungry. Maybe this is a desperate attempt for food. Maybe he’s just struggling to survive in the sudden snow and coming winter. I’d go out of my way for fawn and bird and bee and bear. Why not extend the same to Thrush?

“Are you thirsty?” I said. “I could leave some water for you. I can set a bowl on the log over there by the fire pit and you can drink as much as you’d like.”

“Will I still get cooked fish?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll cook you some fish. You brought me more than enough for the two of us. I can give it all to you if that was your intention. Half of it is salted, if that’s alright.”

“Salted?”

“To preserve them over the winter.”

“I’d like some water, yes. Thank you Hawkin Ballow.”

“Hawkin is fine. You stay right there if you’d like. I’ll be right back with some water. Give me just a moment ok?”

Here goes nothing.

I gave Thrush a singular nod before I turned my back to him and headed inside.