The weeks after the funeral went back to near normal. The exception was that now Daryl would come home with black eyes. Arron’s brother blamed Daryl for his death. He promised that he had it handled but Lilia saw through him. When he left the house to go anywhere besides the smithy, he tried to get Jackson to go with him. The few times he didn’t have their older brother with him, he came back beaten.

After one episode, Lilia was shaping the clay with a bit of water and overheard mother and father talking about it. Her father’s whisper may as well be speaking normally for all the good it did. Had either Jackson or Daryl been home they probably could have heard it through the thin walls.

“All I am asking is that you give him the basics to protect himself. He still refuses to carry a sword or hammer on him. He will not even admit he’s being attacked! If my apprentices were not such gossip mongers I would not know who was stalking him.”

“I keep telling you. I asked him already yesterday and again this afternoon. He thinks he deserves this. He invited the boy here in the first place and it hangs over his head,” her mother replied, not looking up from the dish she was preparing.

“So make him! I would speak on his behalf; I held the sword! But he made me promise that I would let him handle it.”

“And so he will. In his way. Our sons are stronger than you know. Let me ask you, what do you think I could teach him?”

“To fight back!”

“To kill. I do not teach how to punch bullies. I teach how to burn warrens and find vitals in troll-skin and manage an ooze advancing.”

“And you cannot change how you teach for our son?”

“Our son knows how to fight! When is the last time you looked at him?” Mother snapped at him. Lilia realized she pushed too far in and the small statue she was making began to wilt. A frown crossed her face and she decided to let it break from the base. A Liberty statue was not what this house needed. The small splat drew her parents’ attention for a moment but Lilia ignored them.

Her father spoke first, slowly, “I saw him this afternoon with one eye on the floor and the other looking into his head for all I know. He cannot smith without being able to see!”

“No, love, you saw his injuries. You should see the way his knuckles have no blood on them despite the strength you have put into his arms. He will be your size when he finishes this last growth cycle. He can easily overwhelm most full-grown men and many Guild warriors by strength alone!”

“So teach hi-”

“Stop. No. You know that is not his path nor where his lifespark is strongest. His strength is inside him and he will use it as he sees best.” Her father’s anger was untamed and nothing like the controlled fury in the rigidity of her mother’s back and clipped words. A frustrated howl like a trapped animal burst from her father’s chest. He made to slam his hand down on the table they sat at but Serabelle stopped him with an arm on his shoulder. “I know it is hard. I know you want to help. Here is what you can do for Daryl. What you can do for me. And it is something I cannot do.”

Antel took a deep breath and blew it out. He raked his hands over his hair as if that would stop his mane from falling over his face again. “What must I do?” the words more a demand than a question.

Serabelle snapped her wrist and a blue ribbon appeared. Antel flinched back but Serabelle just arched an eyebrow at him. The beast in him resisted only a moment before he bowed his head for her. Lilia suppressed a giggle as Mother tied the wild hair back and turned a lion into a buff hipster. Not well enough by the glare he shot Lilia before checking himself.

“Husband you need to go fishing.”

“...What?” he asked.

“You need to take your two sons out fishing. Jackson has the next week off before he goes into the Guild’s annual testing. Daryl needs the chance to sort his thoughts out.”

“How will this help?” he sounded more confused than angry now.

“You do not have to speak or prod him. You just be your big self and the two boys will talk on their own. Under the light of the rising sun and the male bonding over a campfire fish, Daryl will speak to you. Say nothing. This is important. Let him say his piece and stay nothing. After a time he will face you and set down his fishing rod and ask you something. Then you can talk. Answer him honestly. Then pause. This is crucial, are you paying attention?”

The big man mimed taking notes. Serabelle punched his shoulder hard enough to shift the big mans chair.

“Answer him honestly, pause then ask him the same question. If he responds you can come home the next day. If he does not, stay there until he is ready.”

Lilia was shocked at her mother’s foresight. What question will he ask? Is she some kind of seer? That might explain how she knew about the letter Arron had. Her father looked like he was in pain trying to think through her instructions. Finally, he gave up, “You were always better at manipulating others.”

“Of course I am. It’s how I stole you away after all,” her mother said, taking that as a compliment. “We can review your role later. I will tell them about the fishing trip tomorrow at dinner. What do you need to take the week off?”

Lilia tuned them out as they made plans for the smithy. She wondered if her brothers knew who was really in charge of their fates. What plans does she have for me?

* * * * *

The two boys seemed excited to take a trip off to the countryside. Their plans to head out allowed Lilia to ask a lot of questions about where they were in the world. Surprisingly, her father brought out a map of the continent they were on from a chest in the master bedroom. The city of Hamblin was a generally safe area from monsters as it was the region’s Adventuring Guild. Against the Twint river, Hamblin was a hub for the Western mountains to ship their ores into the Merchant’s Capital. On top of the towers in the walls, forest spread across the hills all the way up to the mountains to the East and to the west a sea of green as far as the eye can see. Hamblin itself was raised slightly above the surrounding forest on a set of hills supposedly raised for the castle that once ruled these lands.

Though villages covered the roads to the mountains and up and down the river, the nearest city was Klend to the north. A trip nearly two and a half weeks by horseback, a week by river. All this to say, while Hamblin was a sort of hub for the ores and lumber being passed onto Merch, it did not see a lot of travelors from other races.

Lilia was not ready to meet another race. She imagined the almost ethereal beauty of the movies like Lord of the Rings elves and the sprawling mountain cities of Eragon’s dwarves in her mind. Goblins sounded like a pestilance but they were like hunger to her. Across the world someone had to deal with them on a daily basis but her stomach didn’t distend trying to find nurishment. Goblins were always someone elses problem if they even existed.

Serabelle sent off the three stooges and for a few days Lilia got to see Serabelle’s free side. The part of her that wasn’t on her best behavior all the time. And you know what the former adventurer did with it? Hunt a pesky beast with Lilia strapped to her back? Buy a bunch of wine and have her girlfriends over and read a romance together? Or maybe go on a shopping trip!

Okay, so the last one did happen. But for the most part, nothing changed. Lilia was forced to watch Mother go through her morning exercise without someone in the house to watch her. Which led to finding out about how ripped Mom was underneath the flowing clothes she always wore. The two sat, made clay figures or walked around the city. For fun, Serabelle decided they would do laundry on the third day alongside the washerwoman. The things they said! Lilia’s ears burned and her soul felt dirty from all the things she heard. Humans were not the only “dish” one could sample. The pros and cons of the varieties described in detail were driven into her poor little head.

Then came the day Lilia finally saw evidence that humans weren’t alone in the world.

A knock on the front door sent a course of adrenaline through Lilia. She climbed down from the living room table turned artspace and ran for the door. Expecting her father, Lilia was shocked when she opened it and a plant person stood there.

It was green with skin like grass that was rolled up tightly to form quasi-muscles in the shape of a humanoid. The being stood nearly as tall as her giant of a father-a feat no one else in the city could claim. The eyes were black with the irises an ever changing circle of pollen dots. Not a metaphor. Its eyes actually reformed as it looked at her with a confused expression. One of its antennae twitched.

It raised up one of its long limbs, forming a hand out of its tightly bound grass-like skin. “Ah, hello. Are you a halfling? Ah, a moment. Manners first. This one is called Sprout of Autumn in the Valley’s Forest. Is the one named Smithing Giant Antel Sanmey here?”

Lilia was cool with bugs. Hell, the giant spider in the cellar was nearly the size of her head. But the giant spiders didn’t talk. The giant spider didn’t have hands that unraveled from his flesh and bent all wrong. And his clothes! Where were his clothes?

She screamed and slammed the door. Thinking quickly she ran over to the coat rack with the wooden training spear.

* * * * *

Serabelle walked in on the sight of her 2 year old trying to heft a spear three times her height. She herself was carrying her silver white spear. When she heard the scream she immediately cycled through her wards but found nothing amiss here or in the smithy. She took the spear from Syndra and set it back on the coat rack.

She grabbed Syndra’s arm, “What is it? Who was that?”

“A green monster man is outside! He’s looking for father!” Syndra squeaked. “What does he want with Father? Should we get the guard? He’s… he’s! He…” she trailed off turning red.

“He’s what? A green monster in the city? Was it a goblin?” Serabelle pulled Syndra behind her and faced the door. As she reached for the door handle she heard Lilia’s hushed whisper.

“...he’s not wearing clothes!”

Serabelle blinked with one hand on the door before blowing out her cheeks. Looking to the ceiling she prayed, “Oh Goddess forgive the washer women for corrupting my daughter.” Turning back to her little one, she couldn’t help but giggle at the seriousness on her chubby cheeks, “You will be a fierce little warrior. So cute!”

“Mom! No! The monster is out there!”

“Syndra, remember when I told you about my old adventuring group? Do you remember me telling you about Sproutlings? For now just stay quiet, I will handle this,” Mother said as she straightened her hair. She looked at her spear and then back to Lilia. She ended up snapping her wrist out and the spear vanished.

“What?” Syndra blurted. The spear returned to its space in her ring, the faint glow from the excess mana dissipated quickly.

Serabelle opened the door just as the Sproutling was leaving the porch. “Hold there honorable Sprout. This is the first time my daughter has met one of your kind. Excuse her poor manners. This one is Serabelle Sanmey, wife of Smith Antel, and my daughter, Syndra Sanmey.”

The Sproutling nodded his head at each of them and his antennas twitched in a weird way. “This one is called Sprout of Autumn in the Valley’s Forest. Yes, this one searches for the Smithing Giant Antel Sanmey.”

Serabelle nodded, trying to pay attention to the antennae, “As I said, he is my husband though away on a trip currently. He will be back within five sun rises. Please come in and we can discuss what you wish of him. Excuse me if I miss some of the words, it has been many years but, ‘Under the Goddess’ light this one offers invite. Where this one rests, you may share in our story. There be no suffering under this shade.’”

The Sproutling’s antennae stood straight up with shock at hearing his native tongue, “This one offers their story. This one accepts the sanctuary and vows to uphold the Goddess’ goodness while under your shade.” The Sproutling bowed again, his antennae curling to the sides. “This one imagines you wished to say, ‘Suffering will not follow you under my shade.’” He proceeded to say it in his own language.

Serabelle repeated it a couple of times and motioned him inside. Her daughter followed them, clearly staring at their newest guest. At least in Autumn’s culture such is considered a compliment.

* * * * *

Lilia couldn’t help but watch the Sprout. Her mother referred to him as Autumn and he was so alien. On earth she was friends with people all over her community but this man had different everything. Despite his humanoid appearance, he didn’t sit at the table her mother brought to the small backyard but seemed to root himself in the ground.

His height fell to almost the height of her mother sitting. Lilia had pictured Sproutlings to be a bunch of Groots but instead they were more like beanstalk green giants. His arms reformed into fingers as her mother put out a game similar to chess for them to play. Serabelle even seemed to know some of their language. A language of the air hissing out of a tire and humming.

Mother informed her that he would be staying with them until Antel returned so Lilia decided to get her clay and bring it out to the summer afternoon. When she was out of sight of the two adults Lilia addressed the unease in her stomach. “I am not racist. I didn’t know what he was,” she tried to tell herself.

It didn’t help. She knew that if she wanted to travel and explore the world while leaving amazing sculptures to wow the mass she couldn’t judge someone or thing on its appearance. She owed the Sproutling an apology. A course of action set, she nodded to herself and resumed her mission.

She brought out a good portion of the clay she’d been given and set it on the table. Then, a bit of courage summoned allowed Lilia the strength to drag her chair around to sit next to Autumn.

He was looking at her with his expressionless face as she climbed up into her chair. Standing on it she addressed him, “Autumn, I am Syndra. I’m sorry for being rude before. It’s nice to meet you.” She held out a hand for him to shake.

His antennas shook and he seemed to study her for a long moment. Autumn glanced at Serabelle. Lilia didn’t look away from his strange eyes though and missed Serabelle’s shake of her head. Autumn used two hands to slowly put Lilia’s hand back at her side. “You are not a warrior. This one is a warrior. In my home this one would have to rip your hand off for the offense. If instead this one took your hand as an equal, this one would show great respect for you. A human seedling has not earned this.

Lilia stood there for a minute trying to process what he said. An idea forced itself onto her face. “Then Autumn, hold your hand out for a second. There’s another type of greeting you should know from my culture!” Again the antennas shook.

“Very well,” Autumn agreed and held out his hand in the basic shape of a human hand.

“You don’t need to worry. This just means that we’re cool,” Lilia said matter-of-factly as she pushed his fingers into the shape of a fist. The grassy substance that made up his hands seemed to thrum with some hidden force that she could feel in the brief second she touched him. The skin was rubbery as expected but also surprisingly firm.

“Cool? Why would this one want to be cold? That is something my kind do not wish to be,” Autumn said pulling back.

Lilia immediately pulled his hand back, “No not like temperature. It means that you are… That you are awesome. That, that we respect each other as friends!” She made her own fist and punched his fist. “There. Now we are friends!”

* * * * *

Autumn looked at his fist and then at the tiny human seedling before him. The little one’s magic unawakened but he still felt it in the moments she touched him. His own magic strangely twisted towards hers. Serabelle’s laughter drew his attention. He knew his antennae were betraying his ignorance and stilled them into thinking.

He asked Serabelle, “Why did this one not know of this practice? How can punching each other mean friendship?”

Serabelle’s light laughter set him on edge. He truly hated being as ignorant as his brothers claimed him to be. She shook her hands in denial, “No, Autumn in the Valley’s Forest, this is something she came up with on her own. She means no harm by it.”

Autumn contemplated the magic and the gesture of the mutual punch while staring at the pieces on the board in front of him. A simple game of river stones could tell a lot about a person. Serabelle’s first game said she protected her own. The second game they played now showed that she had no fear of exploiting weakness. A mother badger’s style.

He set the most valuable piece in the center of the board, a risk that would sacrifice both of their strongest or allow him to push into Serabelle’s territory. “This one likes the idea. Tell me more of it,” he told the little human.

“Of course! Who doesn’t like friends?” Autumn noticed her smile and signalled happy and gentle back to her. “So fistbumps all began with the Super Friends”

Both Autumn and Serabelle listened to silly stories about magic friends with one ear as they continued their game. Autumn lost in his thoughts about how awakening the little one’s magic. Might it pay for the favor? He would ask the Smith Giant Antel Sanmey himself. Would it be worth this one’s time to do so?