Hearts of Iron (ASOIAF/Worm)

FantasticCheese · May 28, 2024

Drift 1.1

Amy

The last thing I saw was a blinding flash of light.

What happened?

I remember tending to the latest batch of bombing victims, the ones who weren't obliterated or worse, and then. The flash, followed by searing pain intense enough to make me believe I died.

Don't tell me… That bitch.

That psychopathic mass murderer actually targeted a hospital, killing nurses, doctors, and recovering patients. For what? If her heinous crimes hadn't landed her a kill order already, there wasn't a chance in hell Bakuda didn't have one now - she was a walking corpse.

So if she blew up the hospital, and I was caught in the blast, how am I still alive?

It was as if I had never even felt that overwhelming pain in the first place, no tingling nerves nor burnt flesh, not even an afterimage from the brightest light my eyes had ever witnessed. Possibly, whatever bomb Bakuda had planted at the hospital wasn't intended to kill or maim. I was no longer in Brockton General, but I also wasn't standing among the rubble of a smoking crater, so it could have been some kind of personal displacement or teleportation bomb.

If so, that begged the question.

Where am I?

A forest, densely packed with old growth, a mix of conifers and deciduous trees, thickly barked and towering overhead as much as 20 meters. Grasses and ferns carpeted the forest floor, rich with lavender blooms, lichen and moss dotting long fallen logs and weathered boulders. Earthy scents, damp with moisture, permeated the air. Tales of dark forests from children's fables were brought to mind, a mysterious and nearly oppressive atmosphere promising mischievous fae and wizened witches luring curious travelers to their demise. Fauna abounded, croaking toads, chirping crickets, buzzing insects, all making their home in this realm of untamed nature.

And I hated it.

Why does it have to be a forest? Can't your stupid fucking bomb painport me somewhere closer to civilization?

Then again, I'm probably somewhere in the nearby hills northwest of Brockton. I can just check the GPS on my cell phone.

No service.

Of course. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

A mad bomber destroyed half the city, I got into an argument with Vicky, I got blown up, and now I'm hopelessly lost. The map wouldn't even load, so good, old fashioned navigation wasn't an option either.

I let out a sigh to match my immeasurable disappointment at this ruined day.

I supposed there was no point in sticking around this forgotten patch of the Earth, I'd just have to head in a direction and hope I stumbled upon signs of other people. Wasn't there some fact that you're never more than 50 miles from a road in any direction? I think it might only apply to the United States, and there's no guarantee I'm still in the country.

Fuck.

I picked a direction -south by southeast should lead closer to Brockton- and started walking.

I was grateful that Bakuda's bomb had dropped me off while I still had daylight hours to burn, shuddering to imagine what the already creepy environment would be like in complete darkness. By my phone's count, I had been walking for well over two hours, and the Sun had risen higher in the sky. This was concerning because the hospital explosion happened in late afternoon, so either I had lost time in between exploding and ending up here, or I had been moved far to the west of Brockton, by several time zones.

My knowledge of world geography was lacking to give me any better guess as to my current location other than somewhere far away, Alaska maybe.

Periodically checking for cell service rendered no positive results, better to save battery life for when the forest thins and hopefully closer to a cell tower. Estimating distance proved fruitless, any trackers I had available requiring GPS to function, but I knew I was heading just off of due south from tracking the Sun. Basic education taught me that the Sun rises in the east and sets in the west, so I didn't have to rely on misconceptions like moss only growing to face the north or any such nonsense.

Regardless of the distance covered, there was no discernable difference in my surroundings. Only endless trees farther than I could see.

Realistically, I shouldn't expect any search parties, superpowered or otherwise, to save me. Depending on the residual damage of the blast, it's possible nobody realized I was alive.

Isn't that a depressing thought?

Vicky would be adamant that I had survived, God I miss her so much right now, but it's doubtful the others would listen without proof, so very likely, I was completely on my own. I would live or die out here by my own actions.

I trudged onwards, lamenting the Sun beginning its westward descent.

Hunger set in, sending pangs through my gut, and I was becoming dehydrated. I knew from experience in the hospital what a prolonged lack of nutrition did to the human body - malnourishment, emaciation, a compromised immune system, the list was as extensive as it was disturbing. While I wasn't quite at that point yet, it would grow into a serious worry the longer I went without food.

This was a situation I could rectify, I realized. How humiliating would it be for the world's premiere ~~biokinetic~~ healer to die of starvation? Checking local flora for nutritional content and edibility would be trivial with my sense of biology. I had already made extensive use of my ability in order to fend off biting insects and to avoid poison ivy.

Alright, let's find some dinner.

I first tested a brown-capped mushroom poking out through a thick patch of grass. I touched the tip of my finger to its stalk, and…

Absolutely not.

The cap contained several neurotoxins that would leave its consumer with a nasty case of muscular paralysis, including the diaphragm, which would quickly lead to death by asphyxiation. Only around 2%-3% of mushroom species were lethally toxic, so this was an unlucky find, but also, at best 4%-5% are considered edible by most human standards, so perhaps going for fungi was a bad choice.

I couldn't let that deter me -because if I did, I would die- and I moved onto the next option. Lying next to a decayed, toppled trunk was a gathering of dark gray fungi with growth patterns resembling Chanterelles.

One touch, and I knew I had struck gold. This beautiful specimen was chock full of vitamins B2, B3, B5, and D, as well as Phosphorus and Potassium alongside a bizarrely high concentration of Zinc - not enough to cause digestive issues, but unexpected for a fungus. Unfortunately, caloric content was a different matter. Mushrooms were easy to forage, but low in energy intake, which means I would need a rather large amount to break even with daily usage, especially considering my recent heavy exercise and stressful environment.

But food is food. I cleaned up my meal with a quick brush of my fingers, ridding it of unwanted pests and harmful bacteria.

Here goes nothing.

It was alright, nutty but with more crunch than chewiness to its texture, and more importantly, my hunger was abated somewhat.

Lack of clean water was still an immediate concern, but I could perform the same trick to make pretty much any source potable, although it would be better to start with running water - less risk of non-biological chemical leaching that way.

Luckily, streams were commonplace in this neck of the woods, burbling down channels in branching rivulets. I cupped my hands to collect the life-sustaining fluid, and sure enough, I detected countless microorganisms floating about, but none that alarmed me as particularly harmful to my health. Still, better to be safe than sorry - I cleansed the water of microbial life.

Cool and refreshing.

That would sustain me for a while longer, and I'd keep an eye out for other food sources.

Back to it.

A few hours later, I had identified several new fungal species, a handful or berry varieties, some flowering weeds, and even one nut bearing tree as edible, in total packing a surprising complement of nutrients, including a suite of vitamins, minerals, and some proteins from the nuts. I was still lacking some necessary proteins found primarily in animals, and everything I had eaten so far lacked fat content, but those would only be concerns long term - and if long ranging nutritional issues became relevant to me, then I had far greater problems to worry about.

The Sun had inched its way towards the western horizon -although I couldn't see the horizon- and shadows stretched, filling the space with gloom. Soon, continuing would be inadvisable, as the dark would make tripping over roots and spraining my ankle exponentially more likely. Not to mention, I was losing my only point of navigation, and without it I'd likely end up moving in circles. Not a desirable outcome.

That left a conundrum: Where do I sleep for the night?

I was hesitant to just pick a soft spot and lay down, fearful of wild animals attacking while I was defenseless. Climbing a tree to stay the night high up on a branch was equally unalluring, liable to fall off as I was. Additionally, neither option provided any sort of protection from the elements, and while my robes had done an excellent job so far of insulating me from the chill, the nights of an ostensibly temperate forest would be cold, the presence of northern pine trees being a good indication for what I could expect.

Building a shelter was not a tool in my kit of skills -I had never been an outdoors girl- so what did that leave me?

I had let one option go unconsidered thus far, however I refused to let myself broach the topic further. Cleaning up food and water was one thing, but modifying a living organism for my benefit, twisting nature to my will, was an entirely different matter. The ecological repercussions of implementing inadequate safety measures, the potential for disaster and discovery, the rules I'd be breaking, all of it was too much.

I'd have to settle for the ground tonight unless I can find a natural shelter.

It was dark, a blacker dark than any I had encountered before, an all consuming void of nothing. I could not see my hand in front of my face.

This was a mistake, continuing past twilight, the day's final warning to me that true night, free of artificial light pollution, was imminent, and I had not heeded its words. Hoping to find adequate shelter had been in vain, the terrain rugged and uninviting to an unwelcome intruder.

I was tired, I was sore, I was miserable, and I couldn't see where I was going.

Fine. I give up.

And so I did, plopping down right where I stood -a patch of dirt and decayed foliage thankfully not too damp- curling into a ball, letting unconsciousness take me.

Sunrays penetrated the canopy of leaves to spear me in my crusty eyes. Everything fucking hurt, the aches spanning from my feet to my shoulders in every muscle group I could care to name. Groaning and grunting, I forced myself up off the forest floor, stretching and contorting to reduce the pain. It only worked partially.

I had officially survived my first day lost in a forest, Yay.

There was nothing to do but continue struggling onwards.

The day progressed, I found more food and water, the landscape never seemed to change - unending clumps of trees and grass that looked the same as the trees and grass I had seen yesterday. The flowers were pretty I guess, mostly poisonous, but pretty.

I longed for the comforts of home, my bed, the internet, air ventilation, more than one set of clothing, Vicky's embrace, indoor plumbing - the less said about handling nature's business in the middle of the God damned woods, the better.

Let's just say I was incredibly grateful for my power.

I checked for cell service. Nope. That was a waste of time.

I sighed deeply, not enough to completely vent my frustrations -nothing could do that at the moment- but enough to keep me from collapsing right then and there.

Just keep walking.

Past midday, I came upon a small clearing. It was picturesque, a clear pond shining in the sunlight, surrounded by a field of wildflowers blooming red, yellow, and purple, the area encircled by a ring of pines. If I was in a better mood, I might have appreciated the beauty, but alas, I was still fucking lost.

You know what, screw it, I'll camp here for the rest of the day.

The serene locale was likely better than any other spot I could hope to stumble upon out in the endless forest.

I sat by the edge of the pond, the small body of water maybe 30 meters from end to end. From this vantage, the water was deeper than it first appeared, easily capable of submerging me twice over near the middle. The angle allowed me to see clear through the surface to the small minnows swimming placidly below.

It was nice. To take a break from the oppressive atmosphere of the forest and the mindless walking, to take a moment to relax and enjoy my surroundings for once, to let down my hood and feel the swift breeze blow through my frizzy curls, hearing the rustle of leaves, branches swaying in the wind. No dealing with patients' inane comments or Carol's bitchiness, no worrying about losing control, becoming the monster I knew was hidden inside me, not even intrusive thoughts about my sister interrupted my relaxation.

At last, inner peace.

When I got back to Brockton, I'd have to thank Bakuda before punching her in her bitch face.

When I get back…

That night's sleep was decidedly peaceful, uninterrupted by nightmares and unpleasant dreams - the clearing provided great benefit to my mental state. Waking up, the aches were still present, but they were lessened from last morning. I prepared for the upcoming hike with a breakfast of nuts and berries I had saved up in my robe's pockets.

The dark blue of early morning sky, open and free of clouds, faded into a paler shade over the course of the meal, signaling me to continue on.

I rose from my comfortable patch of flowers, dusting off my dirty clothing as best I could, and stepped back into the tree line, heading south once more.

Any other emotion would be a welcome reprieve from the monotony of the trek - instead, I was struck with an all-encompassing boredom so strong it pushed out even the misery of wearing sweat covered clothing for the third day in a row and the despair of walking so long without seeing a hint of civilization.

Bored, bored, bored.

With nothing else to think about, my mind wandered among daydreams, being held in Vicky's strong arms, carried over the city's skyline, the waves resplendent in the golden sunset matching the highlights of her form fitting costume, her vivid blue eyes gazing longingly into my own…

Enough.

I couldn't afford to zone out when a single slip up could spell my doom. One twisted ankle would bring me from boned to completely and utterly fucked. So I kept my mind in the present and my eyes on the ground, watching out for any roots waiting to trip me up.

All throughout the day's hike, it remained a struggle not to lose focus, and I found myself more than once losing track of time - one moment, I had complete awareness of my surroundings, and the next, I looked up to see a totally different section of forest.

Without distinct landmarks like the clearing to break up the journey, the uncountable repetition of glades and small hills and brooks was mind-numbing.

I didn't stop until dusk, a particularly cloudy dusk. Cloud coverage had rolled in from the west in the afternoon, fluffy puffballs giving way to a more ominous gray cloudfront. I was praying it didn't storm on me, for with no protection from the rain and no way to dry myself off, I'd be spending the rest of the night soaked to the bone, inviting hypothermia.

Please, please, please, if there is a merciful God out there, don't let it rain on me. Haven't I been good, never acting on my urges, always being the dutiful healer? You owe me at least that much.

I held no illusions - my prayers fell on deaf ears.

I walked onwards, step by agonizing step, the last dregs of day giving way to the blackness, winds picking up speed, whistling through leaves and pine needles, howling at my side.

A flash in the dark.

BOOOooom

A tremendous rumble shook me and the very earth I stood upon.

How close was that? Fuck, it's gonna start pouring any second.

Why was life so unfair? It's just one beatdown after the next, always testing my limits, taking away my control and clubbing me over the head with the injustice of it all. I'd had it up to here. I. Just. Couldn't. Take it. Anymore!

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOUUUUUUU!"

Right back at you, you fucking piece of shit world.

AwooOOOOooooooooo
AWOOOOooo
Awo AWooooo

Howls pierced the night, first from the front, then an answer from behind and to my left.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't be serious.

Life hadn't appreciated me fighting back. I was surrounded, cornered. I was going to die being eaten by wolves.

A droplet splashed my nose. Then another on my hand. The occasional hit turned into a pitter patter of light rainfall, then an earnest downpour. Lightning cracked the sky, the mighty bolts of an angry, vengeful god, his roar furious thunder.

How far away is the pack? How much time do I have? I don't know, I don't freaking know!

I ran. I didn't hear anything to my right, but I wasn't sure. They could be laying a trap. Do wolves do that? I didn't know, I just didn't know. Panting. Twigs scratching my face in my blind rush. Is that the pounding of rain or paws? Which way am I going? Am I running towards them?

"Ack!"

My toes slammed into a solid object, tripping me up and sending me tumbling to the ground in a heap.

I'm going to die.

That thought broke the dam. Tears flooded my eyes, heaving sobs wracking my frame. Every action I had ever taken, every emotion of love and hate and all the inbetweens had led to this moment where I would meet my end in the worst way imaginable.

But still I carried on, clawing myself up out of the mud, defiant in the face of fate.

There was still one option left for me.
But I can't break my rules.
It was for survival.
If I make an exception, where will it end?
Do you want to fucking die out here?
I don't want to die.

Staggering on shaking legs with hands wheeling in outstretched circles, I searched for a thick tree.

Come on, come on, you dumb fucking forest, you've been nothing but trees for three days. You can't fail me now!

There. My limb smacked into rough bark. This one'll do. No time to waste, I got to work.

Outer bark was stripped away, shunted to the sides of the trunk for later use. Heartwood parted, peeling like a knife flaying pig hide, opening up a cavity that would fit my diminutive stature.

It was strange, seeing my power produce such stupendous results so quickly. I supposed delicate healing work would always take more time than tearing life apart -there was a lesson in there somewhere, something about creation being much harder to achieve than destruction- but it still wasn't quick enough in my panicked state.

Layer after layer peeled back agonizingly slowly, Come on, my racing thoughts incoherent as I used my power like never before. The work became faster and faster, whatever process running my powers speeding up as I acclimated to the new experience.

Good enough.

I bodily forced myself into the wooden tomb, encasing it with the shredded bark and ringwood, transforming the pounding rain to a steady, dull droning.

My brief sprint had winded me -with no references, I couldn't say for sure how far I ran, but it didn't feel that far- and now I was finally able to catch my breath.

Breath. Breathing. Shit, is there airflow in here?

I checked with my powers: No. I modified the cellular structure of the wood around me, turning it semi-permeable to air. While I was at it, rough edges and pointy bits were smoothed out, making my stay more comfortable, and I pulled up auxiliary roots to act as temporary support structures for the trunk, while at the same time expanding the cavity slightly so I didn't feel quite so much like a canned sardine.

In the middle of my work, a scratching came from in front of me, the sound transferring loudly into the hollow.

The wolves are out there. Go away. Please, just leave me alone. Why are you chasing me in a storm?!

The scratching stopped after a minute, only the muted rainfall and rumbles of thunder remaining, but that didn't mean the predators weren't still out there, waiting for me to emerge before pouncing to tear out my throat.

There in the hollow, I stayed at nervous attention, my nerves wired and blood pumping too hard for me to relax. For an indeterminable time, I picked up no further signs of the wolves, and despite my best efforts to remain awake, the adrenaline crash sapped my fortitude, my eyes drooped, and my head lolled. Uncomfortable though my new abode was, my exhaustion was proving stronger, and sleep won the battle.

My dreams were filled with bizarre scenes of three eyed ravens and faces carved into trees, empty eyes judging, weeping blood red tears.

"Ughhh."

My joints complained at my shifting, stiff muscles creaking like the wood that encased me.

I had survived the night, an event that should be triumphant, that would be if this were a storybook like Lord of The Rings. But this was reality, and while I was glad to have my innards uneaten with all the important bits intact, my journey was far from over. I had to have gone at least 30 miles over the last three days, yet I felt no closer to home - wherever I was dumped had to be truly remote.

Did Bakuda send me to Siberia?

That conclusion didn't seem correct given the evidence - Siberia contained taiga and boreal forests rather than the temperate climate vegetation I had cataloged, and there was a distinct lack of permafrost. Then again, it should be reiterated that outside of biogeography, normal geography was not my strong suit.

Worrying about my location wouldn't change things. No, if I wanted to do that, there was only one choice. Keep. Walking.

Before emerging however, I hadn't forgotten about my nighttime hunters. Preparations would need to be made in case the pack hadn't given up on their prey, and my power was happy to supply me with ideas. Yet I hesitated. These wolves had pushed me to break my rules once already, would I really do so again? Yes, I would. For home, for my family. For Vicky. And for surviving this cursed forest.

I delved deeply into the biology of the tree, expanding my knowledge of its every molecule in order to do something I had never attempted before. I was going to create a novel substance, generate a sleeping agent unseen by both science and the natural world. I started with sap, flowing through the sieve tubes as slow as molasses. Morphing the structures was easy, so very easy. Enjoyable, too enjoyable, like my power had been a child sitting in the corner bored out of their mind this whole time, and now that it had a new toy to play with, they could not contain their excitement. I shuddered.

Creating the agent and counteragent took less than a minute, starting from the solid building blocks available to me. I dosed myself with the counteragent, a neurochemical binding inhibitor that would block the effects of the sleep powder. The powder itself was kept in a sealed wooden ball fashioned from the tree's inner wood - at a moment's notice, I could shatter the ball with a thought, spreading the powder in a radius around me, where it would then knock any would-be-predators unconscious.

I was ready. Resplitting the entryway I had hastily opened last night, I shimmied out of the hollow and onto the waterlogged soil. Checking my surroundings yielded no yellow eyes or matted fur - no wolves jumped out of the brush.

Doesn't mean they aren't hiding out there.

I could hope for the best, but I would expect the worst. Reorienting myself southward, I began the day's march, this time giving much more caution to my environment. The facade of safety was shattered, these woods would be lethal to the unwary traveler.

The fourth day on the nonexistent trail found me crossing the largest stream yet - really it was more of a creek. Not wanting to waste more time than necessary, I decided to bite the bullet and just wade across. I removed my shoes and pants, cradling them in my hands -I wasn't worried about any parasites in the water as my power would take care of any opportunistic leeches- before stepping in the chill water.

Cold, cold, cold!

And I stepped out on the other side. Eyes to the sky, I searched for a spot where the Sun poked through to dry off my lower half, shivering the whole time.

Ten minutes of basking in the rays did wonders for my wet skin, and I felt confident in donning my clothing again. The trials and tribulations of the deep woods were manifold, but I definitely preferred it over some of the other possibilities. Arctic ice sheets and barren deserts came to mind. Amy and Ultraviolet Radiation did not mix well, sunburns being the last thing I needed. I was once again grateful for my robes, an excellently durable and insulating costume, I'm sorry I ever doubted you, that had sustained only a smattering of small tears despite the rough treatment. Seriously, This material was the best money could buy short of tinkertech fabrics.

Thank you Carol. Ha, the situation's truly dire if I'm thanking her.

Yet. I actually missed her, my adoptive mother who never made time for me, who treated me like a second class citizen in her own home. Even through all the paranoia and the cold gazes, I missed her. And Mark. And especially Vicky. Fuck it, I missed those idiots in the Wards too. I'd take anyone at this point, just so that I didn't have to be alone anymore.Alone with my thoughts and alone with my struggles, nobody to commiserate or share my anxieties with.

All my life, I had been a loner, the type of personality that mixes with everyone else like oil in water. I had a prickly demeanor, and yeah, I was an ice cold bitch, I knew that. If actively pushing away everyone who tried to become friends hadn't proved that, then I don't know what would, and it had only gotten worse after that fateful day at the mall, the day I almost lost my precious Vicky, the day I gained my powers. Suddenly, being my friend isn't just about hanging out with the daughter of New Wave anymore, no, now I was a minor celebrity myself, and an incredibly valuable healer.

'Panacea, can you get rid of these pimples for prom? I'll like totally owe you.'
'I don't do requests, and I have a name.'
'Oh sorry Amy, but like can't you make an exception? For Vicky's friend?'
'No exceptions.'
'Seriously? It's not that big a deal, ugh whatever.'

Vicky had told her off for that, but they still hung out. And she wonders why I don't talk with her friends.

So making friends didn't come easy to me, and matters outside my control continually made the whole affair worse, pushing me to seek solitude whenever possible, to lose myself in some online novel or veg out to music.

Out here though, where the utter loneliness was imposed on me, I would have taken annoying girl number 5, that's how desperate I was. One can't understand what torturous effects over 80 hours of uninterrupted isolation has on the mind until they experience it for themselves, and I wouldn't recommend learning.

It was the world's worst rollercoaster of boredom, nervousness, and despair all rolled up into one.

Distracting myself with introspection helped alleviate the loneliness, but that was just it, a distraction from the deadly wolves. I returned my eyes to the treeline and my ears to attention, placing one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, ever closer to something.

Even the largest forest in the world isn't endless, right?

By the onset of evening, I had seen neither hide nor hair of any wolves lurking, although I still clutched my only weapon against the beasts tightly in my pocket. I restocked the counteragent earlier in the afternoon, as it degraded into harmless sugars after several hours in my system - just as intended.

It was time to stop for the night, and I began my search for a suitable tree to hole up in when I came across a peculiar specimen. The tree bark was dark, almost black, with unfamiliar wedge patterns - not unlike ridged bark, but forming strange triangular intersections - the leaves were similarly black, glinting darkly in the dying light. The tops of the trees eclipsed even the tallest oaks and pines by several meters at the shortest point, and some of the specimens near the center of the grove were massive, true monsters that could fit me lying down stacked head to toe well over six times! That was on par with California's sequoias with a height to match - I compared it to the Protectorate HQ and found the oil rig lacking. In terms of shape, they were unlike the local pines, oaks, and maples, their trunks stretching up and up until branching out thinly close to the center, giving them a look not dissimilar to the redwoods I compared them to.

My curiosity was piqued, I had to get a look at the biology of these incredible trees. Touching the tip of my index finger to the nearest specimen, my mind was immediately flooded with unexpected information.

What in the holy hell?

Had I stumbled upon biotinkered trees? The biology I saw was impossible! I had never heard of such adaptations, and it seemed incredibly unlikely that they would occur naturally. The bark and leaves were black because the lignin and chlorophyll structures incorporated iron - there were other transition metals present, particularly nickel, cobalt and titanium, but iron took center stage, forming metallo-organic compounds. These compounds provided the tree incredible tensile and yield strength. Rarely did a material possess such resistance to both deformity and breakpoint snaps.

It's- just- Wow. These are the kind of modifications my powers suggest to me in my weakest moments, and it's just standing out here! Right in the open!

They would poke out of the canopy to be visible for miles in any direction, a giant arrow pointing straight to the grove even in satellite images.

How is it possible nobody's found this place yet? How do these trees exist?!

What purpose could a Tinker possibly have to grow exceedingly durable trees in the middle of untouched forest? My brain refused to accept that mutations like this could occur through natural selection. After all, what possible environmental conditions would require such extreme adaptations? It was implausible.

And yet, this region showed no signs of human habitation or interference having occurred in the last few centuries, the forest floor just as dense with matted leaves -including ones from this new species- and grasses typical of what I'd seen the last few days. I was forced to accept that maybe, just maybe, mother nature had birthed these behemoths, and not some crazed biotinker living out in the middle of nowhere.

Irrespective of their origin, the humongous trunks would make for a spacious, sturdy hovel to last the night in. Attempts to manipulate their biology proved fruitful, another point against possible Tinker involvement - any biotinker worth their salt would have some form of anti-tampering measures on their most important projects, and I would certainly class this as an important project.

Honestly, I felt bad about altering them for my own purposes, these wonders of the woods. Needs must though.

This hollow took longer to build than yesterday's, but firstly, I wasn't panicking for my survival, secondly, it would end up much larger, and thirdly, the molecular structures were unfamiliar to me.

When the work was finally done after what felt like half an hour -I couldn't check as I had depowered my phone early in the second day to save on battery life- the hollow stretched three meters a side and two meters high, practically roomy compared to last night's ordeal. I wasn't worried about instability - have I mentioned the insane strength and imposing size?

So I had a living quarters, but it wasn't comfortable, the floor being the hardest wood I had ever had the discomfort to sit upon. I could fix that.

Hmm, what's the easiest solution here?

I could try to change the molecular structure itself, but those kinds of manipulations took more time than repurposing existing materials. Moving grasses inside and integrating them into the pseudo-lignin could work, but then I'd have to go outside again.

Eh, screw it.

I had a solution for that too. Some quick modifications to the wall nearest the exterior and I had a door. One which only I could open - a pulse of my power would induce a chemical reaction in the hinge-like sections, causing the wood to contract and opening the door. That taken care of, I stepped out into twilight to gather grasses, ferns, and flowers, weaving them together into a sort of plant matrix as I went, until I felt I had enough to form a me-sized cot. Then I doubled back in a loop, increasing the thickness for extra padding between me and the hardwood floor.

When did I get so comfortable with modifying living organisms?

The fact that I hadn't even considered that I was further breaking my rules was concerning. This was no longer about survival, but personal comfort. What would people think about me abusing my powers like this? What would Carol say?

You know what, fuck Carol. She's not the one roughing it out in the wilderness for over half a week. It's just some plants. And one very big tree. It's fine.

I welcomed myself back into my abode, laying my bedding in the back right corner. Now this was downright pleasant, and I hoped I ran into more of these things on the journey.

Hmm, I really need a name for them. Hey, maybe once I bring the news back home, and they verify that it's indeed not tinkertech, they'll let me name the species for my discovery.

What would make a good name? Such a grand species deserved a fittingly impactful moniker. I considered the qualities that uniquely defined them, their strength, their black hue, their resemblance to redwoods, the large iron content of their bodies.

Hey, that might work.

A play on redwood trees with an iron-ic twist, and the name just sounded right to my ears.

"Ironwood."

That settled the matter, this species would henceforth be called Ironwood trees, and nothing anybody could say or do would change my mind.

I turned over in my cot, one hand in contact with the Ironwood, exploring my frank fascination with its bioprocesses. Ironwoods were miracles of nature in more ways than their size and strength - the roots on this bad boy went deep underground, deeper than the tree was tall by an order of magnitude. Alexandria herself would struggle to uproot it. The combined forces of several superhero teams would struggle to uproot it. Fucking Behemoth would have to put his back into it to tear this thing out of the ground.

I could tell the reason for this absurd support system was twofold: One, it kept the massive weight of the trunk balanced, and two, the deepest roots stretched so far down into the earth that they broke solid rock layers, reaching for some nutrient vital to their functioning. If I was reading this right, the roots were more than likely in contact with iron ore deposits. The uptake system suggested that the root tips had some method for separating out and refining metals, but I was having trouble parsing some of the mechanisms of such an unusual organ, my power slowly filling in the details as I thoroughly traversed the underground labyrinth.

All the way at the organism's opposite end, up in the leaves and branches, what few it grew compared to its length of trunk, the biological mechanisms were equally captivating. Carbon capture organelles operated at more than triple the efficiency of any other tree I had come across, integrating the element into modified lignin and cellulose as well as into the iron structures, further increasing the tree's strength. Those leaves must capture a hell of a lot of light energy too - those organelles were only passingly similar to chlorophyll, and instead of rejecting green wavelengths of light, they took in all of it. All of it. 99% efficiency for the spectrum ranging from wide ultraviolet to narrow infrared and every wavelength in between.

Jesus. Okay point gained in favor of tinkertech.

Nature tended to stop at good enough rather than continuing to strive for the very best.

Exploring the pathways and functions of what was essentially my temporary home while inside said home was a surreal experience, but one that was oddly comforting. I knew exactly how defensible my hollow was, just as I could garner information about occurrences happening outside by extrapolating from the vast array of biological data being fed to me by my powers. I would know when the Sun rose without having to open the door because the not-chlorophyll would begin converting photons into chemical energy. It truly was magnificent, this singular organism that was larger than anything else found on Earth, with complex, novel evolutionary adaptations, and me at the center of it all. It was sublime.

Humbled is how I would describe my emotional state - I was nothing compared to the great-tree, an insignificant ant. And yet, I exerted my power over it, dominated it to fit my design. Without moderation, such power could easily go to my head. I had to remember that the rules existed for a reason, and not to abuse them further than necessary. To stay humble.

Thoughts of towering trees and roots questing ever downwards into the depths lulled me into a deeply comforting sleep.

For the first time since my arrival in this strange land, I awoke toasty warm, the Ironwoods apparently excellent for trapping heat. I checked with my biology sense - sure enough light was streaming into the leaves far above.

Completing an inventory check took a scant few seconds. Sleeping powder and its counteragent were both safely stowed in my robes, the clothing itself was still serviceable, and my sanity remained intact for now.

I pulsed the door open, ready to begin my day the same as the last three - foraging for breakfast. My search quickly rewarded me with a blackberry bush variety that I found particularly delectable. For a wild berry, it packed ample sweetness in the form of Amy-sustaining sugars.

Finishing the morning meal with a lick of my fingers, I made ready for another few miles of walking.

Bye Ironwood grove, I'll really miss you. Hope there's more of you out there, however unlikely that seems.

I was stopped for one of my many rests -I simply could not sustain constant hiking under these demanding conditions- and I was examining the wildlife. I had spotted bird species that appeared similar to jays, sparrows, woodpeckers, and even a few diurnal owls. Birdwatching served as another calming exercise and source of entertainment for me, an excellent diversion from the tedium.

Fear of wolves stalking me diminished the further I traveled from the attack site. Doubtless there was easier prey than the armed biokinetic, probably some deer or elk for them to chow on.

The overcast sky promised the potential for rain showers, but thankfully no storms. Now that I had temporarily lifted restrictions on tree-based shelters, I was no longer at the mercy of the weather. Unfortunately, I had not come across any more Ironwoods, but there were still plenty of suitable candidates for habitation in the old growth.

Hours later, my predictions of rain proved to be unfounded - there had been zero changes to atmospheric conditions. What had changed was the terrain. It was barely noticeable at first, but gradually, the elevation shifts became more drastic, the mostly flat ground turning rockier and steeper. The woods weren't any sparser because of it, the growth still obscuring my sightline.

I was working harder though, breathing heavier and taking frequent breaks to compensate.

Snap Crack

I swiveled my head to the left, reaching into my pockets and preparing the counteragent for ingestion. I was halfway up when I saw the wayward intruder, a doe, standing a scant few meters away and staring directly at me.

The graceful creature, all lithe curves and lean muscles, sported a white-spotted coat. Dark brown pools gazed intently into my own, ears twitching at the forest sounds.

I lowered my hands, replacing my tools back into my clothes, trying to calm my pounding heart rate with deep steady breaths.

It's just a deer. You were bound to run into one of those eventually.

Wild animals were skittish, bolting at the first hint of danger. I carefully lowered my butt back onto the log, not wanting to spook my new friend. For several minutes, I sat there observing the doe as it remained standing there alert. Eventually, she lost interest in me -must have decided I posed no threat- and meandered over to a cedar tree to begin nibbling.

I had never been a fan of camping before, but after seeing some of the wonders nature offered, I was beginning to see the appeal. Of course, if I ever went camping again after this, it would be under controlled conditions - tents and other miracles of modern society would be mandatory. The thought of camping out with Vicky under the stars appealed to me, arms entwined as we gazed upon the constellations, or feasting on s'mores around the campfire.

While I was still stuck out here in the forest of unending surprises, more than ever, I had much to look forward to upon my return.

The sixth day dawned, and yes, my trek was undeniably tougher, filled with more intense hiking conditions and potential for perilous falls. The hills -and they were now clearly identifiable as such- rolled up and down and down and up, broken up increasingly by meadows and heathland sitting in the divots between hills.

I climbed to the top of the tallest hill yet to see if I could get a read on my position. A rocky tor sat upon the top of the slope, providing a boost in elevation past the treeline. Carefully, I gripped stony handholds slick with moss, digging in my shoes for purchase. Using every last ounce of my meager upper body strength, I pulled myself up over the lip of the rock. My sightline wasn't perfect, some of the taller trees blocking my view, but what I had was good enough.

For the first time since my arrival, I could see exactly how expansive this forest really was, treetops covering out to the horizon in every direction I turned. I could just barely make out the Ironwood grove to the north - indeed, their tops stuck out like a sore thumb as I suspected they would. To the west, ran shorter hills, and to the northeast, the elevation grew higher still, hills cresting into stony peaks. All in all, it appeared I was crossing a range of not-quite-mountains. My southern route would take me on a descent from here, and-

Oh!

There, only a handful of degrees off of due south, another grouping of trees stood well above their neighbors. I'd bet all the money in my bank account it was a second band of Ironwoods, and if their height in relation to the nearby treetops was anything to go by, this group would outmatch even the last batch of monstrosities.

With a goal in mind, I began the descent down the slopes towards my gargantuan, leafy hope.

My overnight rest stop was not the interior of a tree - instead, I camped in the crevice of a rocky outcropping a ways down from the overlook, preferring the breezy airflow to the stuffy timber hollows on this warmer night.

Laying there, head on and shoulders on a grassy blanket, I gazed up at the heavens, stargazing for the first time on my journey, for the first time ever really, and what a sight it was to behold. Light polluted city life had ill prepared me for the awe of an unobstructed view of the cosmos, for if I was an insect to the Ironwoods, then I was less than a speck of dust to the universe, nothing I could ever dream of accomplishing would affect its grand cycles of stellar death and rebirth.

A carpeting of countless stars that made up the galactic arms, too far away to distinguish one ball of fusing plasma from another, formed a backdrop of milky haze - it had a bluer tint than I was expecting. Upon that lay countless stars, thousands of pinpricks mostly in white with a smattering of dimmer red ones. I held no knowledge of the constellations, so without a guide to lead me, I created my own heavenly mythology.

That group of bright ones kinda looks like a grove of trees if you squint. I'll call it… The Grove.

The Grove hung midway in the southern sky, fittingly in the direction of the Ironwoods.

Directly overhead, a grouping of the brightest stars I could see formed a sort of pointed loop that reminded me of Vicky's tiara.

I'll call it the Princess' Tiara.

Gradually, I transformed the night sky into my very own storybook full of beautiful princesses and wondrous wildlife. The Moon hung low on the northern horizon, a waxing crescent staying out of the way of my celestial searching.

I should bring Vicky out here, she'll love it. We'll fly out together on a nice long weekend…

Never since my Trigger had I gone so long without healing. For the first time in years, I felt no stress and no obligation to be at a hospital volunteering long into the night, and I didn't even feel guilty about it!

What can ya do? I'm putting in my best effort out here, it's not my fault I got blasted to another continent. They'll just have to survive a little longer without me.

Now that this train of thought had taken hold, it wouldn't let go.

There's going to be changes when I get back. No more overworking myself to death.

Not an exaggeration. The contrast between my current zen and the hyper-stressed psychological state of previous weeks was stark. I refused to lose this newfound peace of mind when I returned home - the hospitals would learn to accommodate Amy, or they wouldn't get Panacea.

I should have felt guilty -it was my constant companion, never too far out of sight- but I just didn't. Why should I have felt guilt when I held no blame for my current predicament, when I gave and gave and gave up so much of myself to help others for nothing in return. Radical perspective shifts had occurred over the past week, and there was no going back from here.

I would never give up healing entirely, but it would be on my terms now - no more stealing my life away.

I cut away from contemplation as I traversed around the edges of a narrow gorge, this section of terrain more treacherously broken up than the other side of the hilly range. Careful footing and awareness of loose rocks would win me the battle with this miniature mountain. I shuffled along, maintaining at least three points of contact with the cliff face at all times.

Move the left foot forward, slide along the rocks, don't look down. Acrophobia was not one of my fears, but I think anyone would have felt a little trepidation at edging ten meters over a harsh fall.

Sweat droplets formed rivulets down my forehead, matting my hair. This was my highest level of exertion yet, discounting the run in with the wolves.

Miraculously, I reached the other side unscathed, taking deep gulps of air. I had long since gone noseblind to my own stench, so heaven only knows how badly the sweat and dirt made me smell.

I took a well deserved break on the craggy knoll. The next few slopes looked to be gentler than the last mile downhill.

With every step, each hill I crossed, I got closer to the Ironwoods, nearer to the next checkpoint.

The descent evened out into smoother terrain, although admittedly more bouldery than on the opposite side of the hills, if anything, the tree coverage becoming even denser than in the previous leg of the journey.

While the land was still hilly, I could more easily navigate between the crests, maintaining a flatter elevation path that reduced strain on my legs and lungs.

After several more minutes of travel, I came to rest against a solid oak, preparing my lunch for the day. Up in the higher crests, I had found a piñon pine whose nuts secured my daily value of protein alongside my first significant source of fat content. I had loaded my pockets full to overspilling with the valuable seeds, so now I dug into my robes, performing my cleaning ritual before shoveling nuts into my gullet by the handful. The piñons tasted buttery, richer than other varieties of acorn-adjacent tree nuts I had tried, a very satisfying meal.

I let out a very unladylike belch, content to rest a while longer in the cool shade - the temperature had risen over the course of the week to a balmy 60℉-70℉, and I was sweating enough that I now kept the outer layer of my outfit tied around my waist.

Enough lazing around, I've got some trees to catch.

Life had other plans in store for me.

Presently, I was sheltered in the largest oak I could locate on short notice, waiting out the rain. Although, at this rate, the showers would last well into the evening, so I may as well get cozy. Decision set, I began tidying up my home for the night, expanding the hollow and shifting around biomass to support the trunk. Softened wood formed the floor of my dark abode, and I formed my now customary door.

Sick of living in total darkness, I wondered how I could lighten up my hollow. Tree windows? But that'd let rain and insects inside. Transparent panes of organic silicates? Possible, but where would I get the silicates from? Bioluminescence?

That last idea held some merit. Nature already provided working examples in luciferin, a series of compounds I could recreate from the tree's molecular stores with little difficulty. Why rely on nature's inefficiencies though? I sat there theorizing potential improvements.

For one, the enzyme catalyst is so obsolete - a few tweaks here - a new Beta sheet there.

Luciferase 2.0 would improve on oxidation rates for a longer lasting, brighter burning glow. Several minutes of work later, an ethereal blue light suffused my hollow, my biolights based off of bioluminescent algae.

I think this officially upgrades it to a treehouse now.

At this point, I had moved so far beyond the limits of my rule on modifying lifeforms -it wasn't just bent, but taken over my knee and snapped in half- but I just couldn't find it in myself to give a shit.

I'm not hurting anybody, there's no way for these changes to spread to other plants, I made sure of that.

If I was being honest with myself, it felt good. Although I would never admit it to another soul, I felt a wave of amazing release from all the tension I carried when I experimented with my powers, like a pressure valve had been holding back a torrent of water, and I had finally twisted the wheel. From now on I would allow myself harmless alterations to plants and fungi - it was just too fun.

I refused to mess with anything more complex than a jellyfish as it would be cruel to experiment on animals with nervous systems that facilitated higher functioning.

I still have rules, I just pruned the most ridiculous one. No creating new life, and especially no life capable of self-replication. No brains. Ever.

Nobody could be trusted not to take that power too far. To hold dominion of someone's very essence of self was to make you a monster, a truly evil person on par with the worst of the worst like Heartbreaker and Bastard Son.

I can't trust myself with that power, not when I could lose control and change Vicky. Not when I could ruin everything.

Next morning's trek was full of unpleasant squelching through soggy soil, shoes turned into mud caked bricks. I counted myself incredibly fortunate that I wore boots with my costume, as soaked socks would have driven me insane by the second hour.

Slowly trudging through water-logged ground gave me ample time to contemplate some of the oddities I had noticed. I knew that this region was remote, but more clues pointed to just how detached it was from the rest of the world - where were the airplanes? I hadn't seen a single flying craft, nor had I heard the distinctive roar of a jet engine in over eight days, which seemed impossible given the volume of air traffic on a daily basis. Even if I was stranded in the most unreachable parts of Alaska or Russia, I would have expected at least one overhead pass by somewhere in my field of vision or an obvious chemtrail, and even if I was close to the arctic circle -which seemed unlikely given the local flora and fauna- some routes crossed near the pole.

Compounding my confusion, the specific combination of plant life I had found was incongruous with any known habitat ranges. Take the piñon pines for example; As far as I was aware, they only grew along narrow bands in the American southwest -Arizona, California, Nevada, and a little bit in Colorado- but I was very obviously not in that region. Why was an arid climate tree growing in a temperate rainforest? All this wasn't even taking into account the mystery of the Ironwoods.

I felt like I was missing crucial pieces to this jumbled jigsaw puzzle, and my best detective work wasn't able to fill in the gaps.

Rounding a bend in the hills revealed a window through the treeline framing my destination some miles off. If I pushed myself hard, I could reach the grove by nightfall. Picking up my pace a notch, I prepped for several uninterrupted hours of marching.

I strained my stamina close to the breaking point, but arrived before sunset, and that's all that mattered to me.

The grove covered more surface area than was apparent from my far away vantages, the majority of the trees not even topping their more mundane arboreal counterparts. Interestingly, the shorter Ironwood specimens grew a bushier, leafier top heavy arrangement of branches more akin to an oak, to the degree that I had to check with my power that they were indeed the same species - they were.

The most massive trees resided in the center of the grove, a cluster of a couple dozen whose bulk drowned out all the competition. Among them was one tree that dwarfed even those. If the last great-tree was a behemoth, then this grove's was a colossus, an entity so monumental that even looking at it from a football field's length away struck me with a wave of vertigo. This wasn't just a great-tree, it was a Great Tree, a sight that robbed me of my breath, leaving me awestruck.

Jesus Christ, this thing is taller than Medhall. 40 stories, so over 120 meters, and looks about as wide as a small house.

Would it be sacrilege to burrow my home into this godly tree?

Unlike the first grove, these Ironwoods had cleared their area of the forest of competition - few grasses or ferns grew, the sounds of animals coming only from outside the grove. It really did feel like I had stepped onto hallowed grounds, a pagan god's sacred domain. That black root poking out from the ground, thicker around than a semi truck, could well be imagined as the grasping tendrils of some eldritch being.

How has humanity not discovered this?

I tentatively walked through the long cast shadows of sunset to the Great Tree, under arching roots and long fallen piles of leaves to stand before the colossal trunk, beneath the arm of an iron god scraping at the sky.

I connected with it.

Mind boggling. Earth shattering. The sliver seen above the ground is the tip of an iceberg, the barest hint of what lies below the surface, for in its totality the organism stretched almost a mile down, a complex maze of ever branching roots brushing up against and intertwining with its lesser neighbors' systems, touching gold and silver, nickel and copper, platinum and titanium, and of course, iron.

This thing would survive a direct hit from a nuclear fucking bomb.

How ancient must this tree be to have grown to this size? Counting its rings gave me a sum total of 957 growth periods. Like the other Ironwoods and even the normal varieties of trees, the growth rings told a strange story of seasonal cycles - rings were abnormally thick and varied greatly, suggesting longer, frantic periods of growth, followed by equally erratic hibernations.

Yet another mystery to add to the list.

Putting that aside, this put the tree's age at only around a millennium, older than most of its kind, but surprisingly young compared to some trees, like General Sherman that was at least 2000 years old.

Except I hadn't inspected the full story.

That can't be right.

Rings weren't the only method for determining age. Just as in many other organisms, telomere length and decay was a strong indicator, and what my power told me defied belief - based on those genetic markers, my power was suggesting that the Great Tree was born well over 20,000 years ago. That's older than human civilization, older than farming.

That settles things. It would be a crime against nature to mess with Old Iron.

I'd have to move on to more petty crime, making my home tonight in one of its shorter -but still enormous- siblings.

So I walked over to the next adjacent Ironwood, still with a diameter twice as wide as my bedroom, and I began crafting, every trick learned thus far incorporated into the design - biolighting, air filtration, a powered door, and plant carpeting from what few strands were around. This time, I was able to make my hollow big enough to house Ironwood furniture in the form of a basic table and chair, perfect for eating a late night dinner. I changed things around aesthetically, opting for rounded corners and smooth edges as opposed to the ugly, boxy rectangles I had before. The alterations gave my new home a natural feel, like I was some D&D druid living reclusively in the woods, not that I was far off from that anymore.

It was complete, and this time around, it felt truly homey. Every iteration of the hollow had become less about survival, focusing increasingly on comfort and enjoyment. It helped to have all the space and materials I could dream of.

The effort spent getting here and setting up my new home left me tired and droopy eyed. Staying a day or two to recover my strength wouldn't be a bad idea. It was decided then, I'd rest up in the Ironwood grove before heading out the day after tomorrow.

The first few nights in the forest, I had experienced jet lag, leaving me exhausted and frustrated early in my journey, but after a week of acclimatizing to the new timezone and finding a way to create shelter on demand, my sleep was restful. Mornings and I disagreed back in Brockton, but out here in the wilds, the lack of artificial lighting -the biolights were quite dim comparatively, and I turned them off at bedtime anyways- basically necessitated turning in far earlier than I was used to, so consequently, I woke up with the the first light signaling the beginning of photosynthesis for my living home. It was like a natural alarm clock, but instead of being jolting or abrupt, the sensation was strangely energizing.

Thus, I found myself out in the predawn gray, stretching and positively luxuriating in the cool air, a sight that would have been impossible for the Amy of yestermonth. Yes, the lack of caffeine sucked, but the gorgeous scenery made up that.

Today would be my first full day of rest, although foraging for supplies was still necessary, and I'd have to travel a kilometer or so to the edge of the grove. Thankfully, the grove sat dead in the middle of an expanse of mild terrain, trivializing the trek back and forth.

I didn't think I'd lose my track of my home tree, but for insurance, I used my power on the leaves to create some modified luciferin. The tree now flashed at regular intervals a couple seconds apart - continuous lighting would quickly drain the tree's energy reserves. While not obvious in the daylight, in the dark of night it would be an unmistakable electric blue beacon.

Wait a second, that's genius. Why didn't I think of this before?

A beacon, and one that wouldn't require starting a forest fire. I could use the grove to signal for help. The Ironwoods may have been ignored for millennia up until now, but surely a great blue flashing light in the middle of the remote woods would be seen by somebody watching satellite imagery.

Continuing my journey was risky as I had no clue how much further I had to go until I reached the edge of the forest. I didn't even know if there'd be anything waiting for me on the other side. On the other hand, I would be gambling that I'd have eyes on my signal lights and that someone would come to investigate.

I made my decision.

I changed the timing on the lights to flash SOS in morse code. It required a more complex biological clock than the steady rate flashing, but it would be worth it if my message was made clear to any observers.

Today wouldn't be a rest day after all. I had a project now - to light up the tallest ironwoods and make the grove visible from space. Except the Great Tree. That titan could stay as is. And I'd need to change up my home tree in order to distinguish it. There, adding some lights into the bark in a helix pattern should make it easily recognizable.

Thus, I began spiraling out from the center of the grove, spreading my biolights one Ironwood at a time. I quickly found that syncing my flashes from one tree to the next was virtually impossible, but that hardly mattered. Come night, it would be impossible to ignore my blazing message to the world.

The day wound down, the sun sank lower, and the biolights grew brighter. The luminosity of a single leaf was insubstantial, but multiplied over millions of leaves, it grew to a cascade twinkling in and out of existence hypnotically, their combined brilliance plastered in the night sky.

I retired for the evening, laying upon my meadowy bed and head placed over a pillow of lavender.

The plan would work. It had to. I just hoped whoever found me wasn't hostile.

Thoughts slipped into semi-conscious ramblings that slipped into dreams, fancies of tall Ironwoods reaching all the way to the Moon. I danced upon the bough, laying my hands upon the cratered lunar surface. It was not the white of the Moon I touched however, but rather the bone white of the weeping trees, crimson tears tracing their cheeks.

I awoke well rested, chasing off lingering dreams. I think Vicky and the rest of my family had been in one of them, not surprising given my prolonged drought of human contact. I really hoped somebody was on the way by now. Playing with trees could only distract me from the crushing loneliness for so long.

Ready to check for visitors but not getting my hopes too high, I opened the door to leave.

And came face to face with a trio of children.

I blinked.

They blinked.

"Um, hi?" A weak greeting to my first interaction in over a week, but this was the last group I expected to come to my rescue.

The littlest boy peeked at me in wide-eyed wonder from behind the girl's skirts, "Are you a faerie?"

"...Excuse me?"

ptbptb · May 28, 2024

FantasticCheese said:
I picked a direction -south by southeast should lead closer to Brockton- and started walking

Does Any just carry a compass around with her wherever she goes? Hmm, apparently many modern phones have magnetometers and could have compass apps installed but I don't know what the odds are like for 2011.

FantasticCheese said:
The fourth day on the nonexistent trail found me crossing the largest stream yet - really it was more of a creek. Not wanting to waste more time than necessary, I decided to bite the bullet and just wade across.

Admit you are lost and follow the stream. Walking in a straight line is way harder than most people think (especially in overcast weather in a forest) and you have no idea where you are headed anyway.

FantasticCheese · May 28, 2024

ptbptb said:
Does Any just carry a compass around with her wherever she goes? Hmm, apparently many modern phones have magnetometers and could have compass apps installed but I don't know what the odds are like for 2011.

Admit you are lost and follow the stream. Walking in a straight line is way harder than most people think (especially in overcast weather in a forest) and you have no idea where you are headed anyway.

She is using the sun to vaguely head south. Thankfully for her, the sun sets the same direction in Westeros as it does on Earth Bet, so as long as she keeps the sun to leftish side in the mornings and rightish side in the afternoons, she'll be heading in a straightish line.

Amy is not an outdoorsy person and does not realize that following rivers and bodies of water is a better idea than trying to walk in a straight line when completely lost, but she's stubborn, so she'll keep it up anyways.

Decimus · May 28, 2024

Damn, I'm really interested to see where this goes, keep it up!

ptbptb · May 28, 2024

FantasticCheese said:
She is using the sun to vaguely head south

At least at the start she is going to be wildly out. She can tell in which direction the Sun is, but ...

FantasticCheese said:
I had been walking for well over two hours, and the Sun had risen higher in the sky. This was concerning because the hospital explosion happened in late afternoon

She thinks the Sun is late afternoon (i.e. it is to the SW) however it (initially) is early morning (it is to the SE). So if she thinks she is going SSE, then she is actually going probably pretty close to East.

GerPN76 · May 28, 2024

I love the idea, please keep at it.

TimaenSteel · May 28, 2024

ptbptb said:
Does Any just carry a compass around with her wherever she goes? Hmm, apparently many modern phones have magnetometers and could have compass apps installed but I don't know what the odds are like for 2011.

Admit you are lost and follow the stream. Walking in a straight line is way harder than most people think (especially in overcast weather in a forest) and you have no idea where you are headed anyway.

You can tell direction based on the sun and time of day.

ptbptb · May 28, 2024

TimaenSteel said:
You can tell direction based on the sun and time of day.

You can roughly tell direction based on the sun (during the day, if not too overcast) and time of day and which side of the equator you are and what the season is.

SSE is pretty optimistic (although I think it's been established that Amy was overly optimistic).

ironwar32 · May 28, 2024

Oh god she got the best rescue team possible... from an anime perspective. In real life this is both good and bad. Good in that you should be close to civilation that kids can just wonder up to you, bad in that there also the idea that there also lost and now you have three kids to take care of.

ArktosJ · May 28, 2024

Really interesting premise, looking forward to seeing where you go with it

Wallawallaman · May 28, 2024

Ooh, unique ASOIAF crossover, watched.

marlinspike · May 28, 2024

Amy is the Lorax she speaks for the trees.

Fellow Human · May 29, 2024

Yes! I wanted this.
There was one biotinker in ASOAIF posted briefly on SB, then deleted. Upon googling I found it was originally from WN... it was not terrible but...

I was worried about Amy's annoying hang ups, but luckily the survival got rid of most of them.

Are we getting symbiotic armor/clothing, dragon heart later on? Transhumanism or even monster queen-dom let's go!!! (I mean monster girls coz seriously fuk regular humans)

Asharzal · May 29, 2024

Well, hopefully we will make it past the accusations of "WITCH! BURN HER!" if she's in the North. She is in the North, right? That should be the Wolfswood, or did she spawn in the Kingswood and is in the Stormlands right now?

Legion0047 · May 29, 2024

Looking forward to where this goes

Melifaro · May 30, 2024

It has a rather rough style, but I like it. I hope there will be more interaction in history, not only on the outskirts of the world.

demonic-avenger · May 30, 2024

Okay, I'm looking forwards to Amy's corruption

Zai900 · May 30, 2024

Asharzal said:
Well, hopefully we will make it past the accusations of "WITCH! BURN HER!" if she's in the North. She is in the North, right? That should be the Wolfswood, or did she spawn in the Kingswood and is in the Stormlands right now?

She is beyond the wall and from the description of the Colossus Weirwood that would be where Bloodraven resides with the remaining Children.

Axiomatic · May 30, 2024

Goddamn, you're giving me actual PROSE here! Nice!

Lord · May 30, 2024

Zai900 said:
She is beyond the wall and from the description of the Colossus Weirwood that would be where Bloodraven resides with the remaining Children.

She doesn't appear to be beyond the wall, with the weather and description of the terrain and climate as temperate (nowhere beyond the wall is reaching 70 degrees Fahrenheit), I'm guessing they are in the Wolfswood. The trees also are Ironwoods, not Weirwoods. Amy would likely trip balls after touching a Weirwood for the first time. I'm guessing the three children are the three Forester children from the description (youngest boy implies both that there is also a girl as well as an older boy, mapping on to Ethan, Talia, and Ryon) and the fact that we are getting Ironwood trees featured so prominently.

Really great start!

Zai900 · May 30, 2024

Lord said:
She doesn't appear to be beyond the wall, with the weather and description of the terrain and climate as temperate (nowhere beyond the wall is reaching 70 degrees Fahrenheit), I'm guessing they are in the Wolfswood. The trees also are Ironwoods, not Weirwoods. Amy would likely trip balls after touching a Weirwood for the first time. I'm guessing the three children are the three Forester children from the description (youngest boy implies both that there is also a girl as well as an older boy, mapping on to Ethan, Talia, and Ryon) and the fact that we are getting Ironwood trees featured so prominently.

Really great start!

Amy is the one that named them Ironwoods but they are really Weirwoods from their descriptions.

Fellow Human · May 30, 2024

Zai900 said:
Amy is the one that named them Ironwoods but they are really Weirwoods from their descriptions.

I think she mentioned a tree with a weeping sap face - the first one that gave her dreams, but nothing about white bark or red leaves.
Her description of Ironwoods is clear, humoungous black trees with iron...

Zai900 · May 30, 2024

Fellow Human said:
I think both are mentioned a tree with a weeping sap face, but nothing about white tree and red leaves.
Her description of Ironwoods is clear, humoungous black trees with iron...

Huh, alright fair enough she didn't seem to mention a giant wall so yeah she might be in the Wolfswood.

FantasticCheese · May 30, 2024

Fellow Human said:
I think she mentioned a tree with a weeping sap face - the first one that gave her dreams, but nothing about white bark or red leaves.
Her description of Ironwoods is clear, humoungous black trees with iron...

You see, the fun thing about Ironwoods pretty much being nonexistent in canon except for a few mentions of what they were used to make and coming up occasionally in descriptions of godswoods and beyond The Wall is that I get to flesh out their lore however I want. And no, Telltale's game is not considered canon, but I will be borrowing inspiration heavily from it (even if I change a bunch of details at my discretion, so don't get mad).

FantasticCheese · May 30, 2024

Drift 1.2

Ethan

Ethan wished the keep's library held a larger collection of books. Having read every tome from the meager smattering of shelves already -including the dry treatises on forestry and agriculture- he was reduced to rereading his favorites. That was fine for the most part though as their copies of Beyond The Seven Kingdoms and The Nine Voyages enraptured him no matter how many times he read them. The exotic lands and deadly perils described by the maesters and adventurers within captured his imagination and set it ablaze like wildfire.

Not for the first time in his life, Ethan wondered if he too could one day sail across the Narrow Sea to visit the strange lands of Essos, to climb the steps of Volantis' Red Temple and traverse the ancient labyrinths of Lorath, to look up at the Titan of Braavos with his own two eyes or travel to the fabled cities of Yi Ti in the far east.

In short, he dreamed of adventure, and why couldn't he achieve his dreams? It was not unheard of for third or fourth born sons to go galavanting across the ocean on their galleons. In fact, there were several famous examples throughout history, not the least of which was Gerion Lannister from the Great House of the same name.

Of course, neither he nor his family possessed such a vessel nor did he have the means to acquire one, and while House Forrester was famous for producing the best ship building wood in the known world, his parents would never agree to wasting so much valuable wood on a personal project, even when they were more ardent supporters of their children's endeavors than most parents.

All things considered, being stuck in this corner of the Wolfswood wasn't so bad for a burgeoning explorer. The woods were full of hidden nooks and crannies just waiting for him to unearth them, although his mother was wont to deny he go too far beyond the boundaries of their house's territory without guard. However, the sights he could find were absolutely splendid, open valleys in the white hills to the west, the deep reaches of Stillwater Lake near Torrhen's Square -the Tallharts resided much closer to their family's seat than their bannerlords, the Glovers, up north- and of course, the Ironwood groves, his family's namesake.

None of that stopped him from planning to abscond in his own mind -perhaps he would study at the Citadel- but it kept him occupied for the time being. That, and his love of music and learning were happily provided for by his family. Ethan sometimes thought that his parents only encouraged his passion for the lute to keep him from running off.

Well, he also had the rest of his family to think about. Poor Talia would be distraught -or so he thought- if he were to leave her behind. No, he had loyalty to his family, and the day he left, it would be a celebration of his departure with the blessing of his mother and father. He'd return one day bearing souvenirs of his travels abroad to share with his siblings and their future children.

That was enough pondering for the day - an adventurer required action as well as planning. Ethan gently closed the old tome and dutifully returned it to its rightful place on the bookcase. He had already partaken of his midday meal after rigorous training by Ser Royland, their house's Master-at-Arms, earlier that morning. No doubt Talia would expect to accompany him on his afternoon excursion, so he set off to find his twin sister. Perhaps he'd pick up little Ryon along the way and make it a group outing.

The halls of the modest keep did not bustle as they might in King's Landing or Casterly Rock, but workers from the outlying villages tended to their daily chores, maintaining the building's cleanliness and appearance. Father had an excellent eye for talented individuals and paid accordingly, resulting in a keep cleaned with pride and attentiveness.

Ethan walked into the Castellan's solar where he found his mother conversing with Duncan over the ledgers. The middle aged man looked up from the papers at Ethan's arrival while his mother remained focussed on the pages. Ethan didn't let that fool him - not much got past Mother.

"I suppose you'll be wanting permission to go off on one of your little trips," Mother's lips quirked up in a bare hint of a smile.

She knew him so well.

"Talia would be ever so disappointed to go without her daily hike," he poked fun with the recurring joke.

"Mm, make sure you're back before supper," all said without breaking away from the ledgers.

"And don't go further than the grove," he finished for her.

"Quite."

Mother and Duncan resumed their quiet conversation, dismissing him from the solar.

Exiting the main keep, he spotted Talia out in the bailey practicing her bowmanship among the hunters and woodsmen.

He let out a whistle, mimicking the trills of the Woodlands Finch. She received the message, turning to the side to give him a wave and replacing the bow to its rack.

Having been unable to locate his youngest sibling thus far, Ethan called out, "Sister, have you seen little Ryon?"

"Damon is instructing him in horse riding. He shan't be joining us today."

Ah well, there'd always be next time. As was customary to their mutual hiking adventures, the two of them traded off destinations, and today was Talia's pick. She didn't have to think too long before deciding on Tall Hill, an unfortunately dull but stupendously accurate name for the tallest hill to the northeast of Ironrath. The pairing set off through the postern gate, cloaks latched tightly and Ethan's lute strapped to his back.

Tall Hill was a favorite for the twins, peaking half a league before the treeline thickened into the Wolfswood proper, providing a panorama of stunning vistas in every direction - Ironrath and the low lying craggy hills to the south, hidden valleys revealed from up high to the west, grassy plains leading further east, and of course, the Wolfswood to the north. From their elevation, the town of Gadberry was in full relief at the edge of the woods, and the Pillars of the Old Grove could be seen jutting out from the surrounding forest just barely at the edge of the horizon, a sight that never failed to cause a stirring in his breast.

Chasing the wonders of the world is what drew him into all those fantastic tales, and they had one in their own backwoods.

They passed the afternoon mostly unspeaking, but a lack of speech did not necessitate silence. Talia's gentle humming accompanied Ethan's soft strumming carried on the winds for leagues out. He liked to think they performed for the Old Gods of the forest.

The hour grew late, and it was time to be off. He spared a glance for the pre-sunset horizon, clouds tinged orange and yellow that would soon fade into pinks and streaks of red.

Talia spoke up, "Do you see that as I do? Those flashes of light amongst the Ironwoods?"

Ethan followed his sister's pointing finger to the Old Grove, squinting into the distance. He wasn't certain- Yes! He could see it, faint blue lights pulsing like so many otherworldly fireflies
in the tallest treetops where the Pillars of Iron resided.

"I see it too. That's no flight of fancy."

Come nightfall, those lights would be seen by more than just them two. Villagers and crofters alike would catch sight of the strange lights, many likely to head off to investigate the phenomenon themselves. It was imperative Ethan inform his father as soon as possible and secure his position on the questing party - he didn't want to miss this developing situation after all.

The return trip was fraught with impatience and the desire to rush off ahead, but he would not leave his sister behind. Upon reaching the keep boundary however, he could contain his nervous excitement no more.

"I'll talk with you later, sister. You should get ahead of events and talk to Mother before she forbids you from joining us."

"'Us'?" That was as close to scandalized as he'd ever heard Talia's voice get, "What makes you think Father will grant you permission?"

"Finder's fee!" he called back over his shoulder, already halfway to the main keep.

He did believe he saw his normally reserved sister increase her gait out of the corner of his eye, perhaps in the direction of Mother's chambers.

It was as he entered the main hall that he overheard a gathering of smallfolk making their case to his father. Seven hells, he cursed. He'd been beaten to the punch, the news already delivered.

"It's just as Jered says milord. Glowin' blue lights all afloatin' in the Old Grove. They's seen it too over in Gadberry, they'll swear it up and down."

He decided he might as well speed the whole process along.

"He speaks true, Father," Ethan marched to the front of the petitioners, "Talia and I both saw the lights from Tall Hill, clear as day. It's unmistakable."

Gregor Forrester, Lord of Ironrath, developed a thoughtful expression on his lined face. Pride and warmth was never far from Father's face in times of peace, but now his visage held an edge, a hardness born from past conflict. He must have considered the matter very serious indeed.

The Lord's deliberation ended, and he rose to address the hall.

"At first light, Ser Royland and myself shall lead an inquisition into the nature of these lights. Until then, maintain a cautious distance outside the perimeter of the grove," he spoke commandingly with an assurance that his people would not disobey his orders.

Father summoned Ser Royland while Ethan sat down at the high table, not far away but still unable to overhear their conversation. Whatever Father decided, Ser Royland nodded at his words and marched over to a contingent of men-at-arms. A squadron broke off towards the stableside entrance - He had a feeling there would soon be guard postings blocking entrance to the Old Grove.

By supper time, every inhabitant of the keep, and likely every village for leagues around, was aware of the lights' existence. An atmosphere strained with nervous energy permeated the hall, palpable with apprehension. For some, that apprehension verged into fear of the unknown, correlating the mysterious glow with the most disturbing details from tales and legends, but others bubbled with cautious excitement, seeing promise of adventure and discovery.

Ethan belonged to the latter group. All throughout the meal, he kept his ears to the common tables, listening for news amongst the speculation, anything that he could use to convince his Lord father to bring him along on the expedition come morn. What he overheard didn't inspire confidence in his plan.

"I'm telling ye, them woods are burning. Ye can see the blue of the flames from 'ere."
"What a load of horseshite." "Nah, t'ain't the right hue for an Ironwood burn."

"The Children of the Forest come again."
"The Children are just stories, man."
"They're as real as you and me. There's much we've forgotten since our forefathers settled these lands."

"-swear I saw a face in the clouds, evil and sneering. Mark my words, the Old Gods are upset with us, and we'd best figure out why."
"Seriously Donald?"
"It's not the Old Gods, it's all some kind of trick by the Whitehills."

"All's I'm sayin' is, the guards wouldn't be out theres if theys weren't guardian' nothin'."
"So you're sayin' they're keepin' us from somethin' dangerous out there?"
"I can' rightly say, but it makes ye think, don't it?"

He discerned nothing but baseless conjecture, which is exactly what he should have expected. If any of the smallfolk held the grove's secrets, they wouldn't be sharing it where their Lord could overhear how they snuck past the blockade and disobeyed his orders, and if anyone did have insider knowledge, he was sure they would have shared that with Father already and swiftly sworn to secrecy on the matter.

He simply didn't see how he could broach the topic of the expedition without upsetting Father. He needed more information from the best source he had available.

Finishing the last of his chicken roast and draining the dregs from his cup of watered wine, he made to stand up, "Might I be excused for the night, Father?"

"Certainly."

Ethan turned around to leave when his father spoke up.

"And Ethan, no sneaking out tonight to see the Grove. If the expedition returns with no sign of danger, I will permit you to visit. Then and only then, am I clear?"

Disobedience would not be brooked here, and he would be a fool to go against the wishes of his Lord father.

"Understood," he nodded for emphasis.

"Good. Now try to be respectful and don't bother our guests overmuch," His father's eyes regained a mirthful twinkle.

It looked as if Ethan's plans had been dashed after all. No matter, he'd see what could be gleaned from the primary petitioner, Jered, whom he was passingly familiar with. The middle aged man served as an Ironwood craftsman for two decades, ending his trade when his wife took ill. After her passing, he took his children and moved out to the edge of the Old Grove, a mere stone's toss away. If anyone could be said to have knowledge of the lights, it would be Jered.

In the environment cultivated by his parents, it wasn't seen as wrong for the highborn children to interact respectfully with the smallfolk. In fact, building camaraderie and working relations was encouraged, and so Ethan's presence was hardly spared a second glance as he took his spot in the small crowd at the back of the hall.

He arrived in the middle of the conversation, a throng surrounding the man at a table with far too few seats to hold their number.

"-noticed sooner?" came the trail end of one person's question.

"Well, like I said, the lights didn't start up all at once. They were winkin' into existence one tree at a time, and it wasn't easy to make out in the daylight. I was thinkin' to meself 'that can't possibly be right'. Like I said, I couldn't believe me eyes, thought it was a trick of the light." Jered's story finally revealed more clues to the mystery.

A stout woman scoffed, "And you didn't think to check that the grove wasn't on fire?"

"Not rightly," he replied, "At first I thought the Pillars were ablaze, but the color wasn't near right enough for that, and it didn't seem bright enough to me. Still, I was thinkin' Lord Forrester ought to be informed so he could send experienced men in. Ain't no reason for me foolish self to go get killed by whatever was causin' that glow."

"And what was it that was causing those lights to appear?" a young man asked, voice full of unrepentant curiosity.

"I just told ye, and I told ye a thousand times, I don't know." he seemed exasperated.

An apron wearing woman, one of the kitchen cooks, spoke, "Ye didn't take Lara and the little 'uns along with ye? Ye didn't think it too dangerous to leave 'em?"

"Well, I can't rightly leave the animals untended, and besides, the lights don't come near to the edge of the grove. It's only the Pillars of Iron that got all lit up, none of the timberwoods, and they're miles off from the pens. I know Lara can be-," he paused, "-difficult. But I told her not to dip a finger beyond the pens, or there'd be seven hells to pay."

"And you believed that'd keep the lass in check?" the cook raised her eyebrow, sternly thrusting her finger in his face.

Jered paled a bit as he spluttered, "Well- I- She's- She'd better be there when I get back, or she'll most regret it."

Ethan checked out as the conversation shifted to various women who knew this "Lara" reprimanding a father for his lack of caution regarding his children.

The earlier comment about the trees lighting up one at a time intrigued him though. By the early evening, the entirety of the Pillars had been aglow, indicating a timeline of sorts. The lights couldn't have been there last night, or others would have seen them clearly against the dark background. Therefore, the earliest the lights could have appeared was that morning, and if Jered spoke true, then that meant the trees weren't fully lit by the time he left his farm at midday. Worryingly, the spacing out of events implied intent. Was someone or something deliberately lighting the Pillars?

He needed more information, so he would have to ask, "Excuse me, Jered, you mentioned that the trees didn't light up all at once, but rather it was all spaced out. How far apart would you say the lightings occurred?"

Jered looked surprised he was there, as if seeing him for the first time, "Ah, Lord Ethan, that's how it is, yes. I can't say how much time passed between each as I wasn't keepin' track of the time. All I know is that I saw an unlit tree suddenly begin flashin' all at once. And when I got distracted for a bit and turned back, there was another dark Pillar flashin' that I could have sworn wasn't but a moment before. Apologies that I can't be of more help."

"No need, my good man. I'm merely as curious as the rest of us."

Ethan learned nothing more insightful after that, and he eventually left for his room. He had trouble finding sleep that night, tossing and turning and constantly reenvisioning that haunting sight from Tall Hill. When dawn came, Father led a charge of men through the northern gate, while Ethan remained behind.

Hearts of Iron (ASOIAF/Worm)

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