A week has passed.

The tree has grown incredibly large. It has already surpassed the size of any tree that he had ever seen, back in the old big-now-small forest in the north.

Hineni stands there, his hands on his hips, as he stares, impressed.

It had exploded in growth overnight. Massive roots span out through the hillside, lifting up pieces of sediment as the massive thing burrows down towards the ground.

“Do you think this is going to be a problem?” asks Rhine.

“Nope,” replies Hineni right away, without even asking for any further context.

Rhine rubs his lip with the back of his thumb. “I just mean… you know, because it’s kind of an obvious target?” asks Rhine. He points to the forest. “You bet the elves are wondering what we’re up to up here.”

“Gardening,” replies Hineni. “It’s not our problem what they’re wondering about. The front hasn’t moved an inch from that treeline since we got here.”

“I mean… sure…” replies Rhine. “But, you know, I’m just saying.”

Hineni nods, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I hear you, Rhine,” says the man. “I’m confident that they’re too concerned about whatever they have going on there to bother with us and a big tree.”

– The two of them stand there as a burning boulder, launched from a siege weapon, hurdles over their house and the tree.

Rhine lifts a finger. “Uh…”

Hineni shakes his head. “That was just a stray. Come on, Rhine. Let’s go get some breakfast,” says the man, walking down the hill. “Remember that bakery we saw when we first looked at the city?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I saw the baker the other day,” replies Hineni. “Alive and well.”

“Neat,” replies Rhine, running after him. “Those are strong qualifications for a baker.”

“They’re strong for any job, really,” replies Hineni.

Rhine catches up to him, walking at his side. “What about… uh… an undead lich or something?”

“It’s not a job,” replies Hineni. “They don’t pay you for becoming an undead monstrosity.”

“Oh… really?” asks Rhine.

“Yeah,” replies Hineni. “In this market, you have to become an independent monstrosity if you ever want a chance to make it.”

Rhine thinks about it for a moment as the two of them walk into the exterior house, in order to walk through it. “I’ll consider it, whenever I get confronted with that life choice.”

“Good man,” says Hineni, walking out of the front door.

— There’s an arrow stuck in it on the outside.

The two of them stop, looking at it.

“Just a stray?” asks Rhine, stepping out.

“Just a stray,” replies Hineni, shutting the door.

The two of them head to the bakery.

“Hello?” asks Hineni, looking inside the front room of the bakery.

It’s dark inside. There is nobody there.

He knocks on the already open door, pushing it further open. “Hello?” asks Hineni a second time, raising his voice.

“— There’s nothing left!” calls a voice from the back. “Everything’s already been commandeered!”

“Comman-what?” asks Hineni, stepping inside. “Listen. Do you have bread or not?” He digs into his pocket, pulling out some coins. “I have money.”

A head looks around the corner. Hineni recognizes the man as being the one he presumes to be the baker.

His face goes pale. “GODS HAVE MERCY!” yells the baker, vanishing back around the corner. He screams. There’s a sound of a door slamming.

Hineni and Rhine stand there.

“What the hell was that?” asks Hineni, looking at Rhine.

Rhine shrugs, looking back his way. “…Maybe… uh… maybe he’s scared of you?” asks Rhine.

“Me?” asks Hineni, looking at the coins in his hand and then back at Rhine. “Why the hell would he be…” The man stops for a while. “Oh. It’s the scars. Right?”

Rhine shrugs.

Hineni stares at the room for a while. This was a problem so long ago for him that he hasn’t even bothered thinking about it for such a long time. The scars, and the severity of them, had shaped and molded his life for a very long time. They had caused him to become such a severe recluse, always avoiding people everywhere he went.

But since those days that now feel like a very, very long time ago, he hasn’t even entertained the notion that he’s odd or even… frightening. Everybody always just treats him like a normal person.

“— So, there’s no bread?” calls Hineni out into the back room.

There is no response.

“Guess not,” sighs the man, putting the coins back into his pocket. “I was really looking forward to having bread again,” says Hineni. “All of these military rations are hell on my stomach.”

“Yeah,” says Rhine. “You gotta drink a lot of water with them. They’re super salty.”

Hineni nods his head. “We’ll look around for something else. Come on.”

Rhine and Hineni walk down the main street of the city. Ruined buildings are on either side of them. Glass and rubble litter the way, having been only crudely pushed to the side to allow carriages to travel through, relatively unhindered.

“Oh, look! There’s one!” says Rhine, pointing to the side.

Hineni and him walk over to the other bakery. It looks like there was a fire inside.

“…Think they’re closed?” asks Hineni, looking at the charred wood.

“Gonna say yes,” replies Rhine. “Man. It sure is hard to find bread around here.”

“Right?” asks Hineni. “It’s just a little war. You don’t see us shutting down our operation,” says the man, stepping over what looks like an old, broken jewelry box. “Some people have no work-ethic, Rhine.”

“What about that one over there?” asks Rhine, pointing to the end of the road.

— Window shutters slam shut in one of the houses as they walk past.

The two of them head to the third bakery they’ve seen so far.

Occasionally, they’ll see an odd person or two shuffling about. But as soon as they make eye-contact, those people always vanish behind doors or into alleyways.

They look at the third bakery.

It’s just empty.

There isn’t any furniture left inside. Everything has been removed, from the counters to the ovens. It looks like these people moved to the north.

“Well… damn…” says Hineni.

“Maybe we can ask Seltsam?” suggests Rhine. “I’m sure she can teach us how to make flour and bread and stuff.”

Hineni shakes his head. “I’m sure she can,” he replies. “But we don’t have the time for that. Buying bread is one thing, but I can’t be assed to make it.”

Rhine looks around the outside of the building, poking his head into an alley full of old crates, covered in scorch marks and burns. It looks like whoever was loading these had to leave very quickly, because of some chaotic event.

“Hey, look!” says Rhine. “There’s a bunch of old wheat and flour here!” he says excitedly, looking over his shoulder.

Hineni takes a look.

“Nice,” he says. The man pulls three coins out of his pocket and sets them into the crate, hoisting out a sack of flour over his shoulder. “Talk about blind luck.” He nods his head. “Let’s get this to the baker.”

“Mm!” nods Rhine, closing the crate back shut.

“Hello,” calls Hineni into the dark bakery that they were at before. “We have flour,” says the man, stepping inside.

No response.

He drops the heavy sack on to the front counter, looking around the bleak space. “We have flour and money. What more do you want?” asks Hineni. “Give me a break.”

The door crashes open from the back. The baker runs out, howling, holding a religious symbol of a local deity in his hands. “BE GONE! BE GONE, FOUL SPIRIT!” cries the man, waving the thing around in front of Hineni’s face.

Hineni stares at him, then down at Rhine, and then back at the baker.

“So… about that bread?” asks Hineni.

Rhine nudges him. “I think he thinks you’re a ghoul.”

Hineni sighs. “I’m not a damn zombie. Get that thing out of my face,” he says, pushing the baker’s arm to the side. The baker screams, pressing himself back against a wall. Hineni taps his fingers against the counter, waiting for him to stop.

“Well?” he asks, after a long, dramatic moment.

The baker looks at him as he taps the sack of flour and a few coins.

Hineni and Rhine sit back down, having arrived at home.

“Talk about pulling teeth,” says Hineni, as he sits down at their table, which is down below the base of the tree. Despite being a foot apart from it when they left this morning to find a bakery, the trunk of the tree is now touching the table. He scoots the table to the side again, giving the tree some room. “Some people just don’t have any sense for business.”

“At least we got the bread,” says Rhine, setting down a large loaf onto the table.

“I’ve never worked this hard for bread in my life,” says Hineni.

“They have bread?” asks a voice from up in the tree. Hineni looks at the owl-god, who is sitting there on its high branches, spinning her face to examine them. “It has been many days since I ate loaf intestines.”

Hineni gestures to the bread. She hoots.

“Loaf what?” asks Rhine.

“She likes the inside, but not the crust,” replies Hineni.

“Oh… huh…” replies Rhine, looking to the side. “I guess I’ll get Sockel and - HEY!” He looks to the side as Sockel stealthily drops down from the tree, ripping the cut off slice of bread out of his hand.

“— I- I heard there’s bread?” asks a voice from behind the tree, as Rhine and Sockel run off, chasing after each other.

Hineni nods, getting the chairs ready.

He looks down at his chair, the one he always sits in.

— There’s a mark, resembling a skull, etched into it.

He tilts his head, examining it. After a moment, he rubs it away as best as he can and sits down.

It’s nothing worth worrying about.