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?"

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.

FantasticCheese · Jun 1, 2024

Drift 1.3

Lara

Unanswered questions were the bane of Lara's existence. It was rather unfortunate for her then that there were so many questions and so few answers, the divide between the two growing larger with every passing day.

As far back as she could remember, she had been troubled by a lack of explanations for the happenings of the world around her. 'Why is the sky blue?', she would ask, and they would answer, 'It's how the Gods made it,' which didn't really answer her question at all. 'Okay, so why did the Gods make it that way?' and the adults would say, 'It's the natural order of things,' to which she would respond, 'So is it the natural order, or did the Gods make it that way?'

After that, the adults usually got quiet or sometimes angry, and Da said she was in trouble. All the while, she still had not gotten any answers to her questions, just more questions to add to the never ending pile.

Anger was a common response when she asked too many questions or the wrong kinds of questions. To her though, there could be no such thing as the wrong kind of question because they all seemed so logical to ask. She simply didn't understand what others were thinking - shouldn't they also want to know more about the world's unknown mysteries? And if they already knew the answers, why didn't they just tell her? Were children forbidden from knowing certain things? But why would they be, when she was smart enough to understand? Perhaps you had to be highborn in order to gain access to the exclusive answers, in which case she was terminally out of luck.

Her latest batch of unanswered questions all revolved around the eerie blue lights that had popped up in the grove. When she first asked Da about them, he had scoffed and told her to quit talking nonsense - he did that a lot. When she insisted, he finally relented, confirming that the lights were not a hallucination born of her 'overactive imagination'. After that, Da had gone off to the castle to talk to the Lord about what they'd seen, making her promise to stay on the homestead, or there'd be 'seven hells to pay' which was a favorite phrase of his, although he didn't use it as often with her younger siblings.

So Lara had remained at home, tending to the lambs and nannies, not straying past the wooden pen posts that marked the edge of the property, the whole time utterly transfixed by the blooming flashes barely in sight over the tree line. Little Dil and Yanny were inquisitive as well, and she wished she could give them answers, both for them and her own sake.

Night fell, and Da hadn't come home -a not unusual occurrence as he often stayed overnight for business in the nearby towns and at the castle- and her itch to look for answers was becoming greater than she could bear. She didn't sleep a wink that night in her cot, resting on her back with eyes wide open and staring at the thatched ceiling. Through the shutters, she could make out the faint glow now that it wasn't being washed out by the Sun, teasing her and taunting her for a closer look.

I can't take this anymore, she thought. Rising from her cot, blanket set aside, she donned a thick cloak hanging off the rack, tying the belt about her waist and lacing up her boots. A creak brought her attention to the bedding in the corner, where Yanny was sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

Her sister yawned, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "What are you doin'? Father said not to leave."

"I'm going to see the lights."

"But Father said." She spoke as if Da's words were final, immutable, that to disobey would be as impossible as an apple falling up.

Lara believed words were just that, words, and nothing more. They held no power unless you gave them power, and she rarely saw reason to give others that power unless they provided her answers in return, or were soldiers or highborn - you always had to respect soldiers and highborn. One could say that she gave power to the answers themselves.

"Father won't know unless you tell him. Are you going to tattle on me?"

Yanny scowled, "Ye know I wouldn't, but it could be dangerous out there."

"I'll be careful."

The scowl deepened, "And who's goin' to watch Dil?"

"You're old enough."

The argument, hushed though it was, must have woken their baby brother, as he spoke from his spot on the bedding.

"I wanna come too," the grogginess evident in his slurred speech.

"Sure, get your coat on Dil, quickly now. I'm leaving soon."

Now her sister shot a glare of vitriol. "You are not takin' 'im to the Pillars. Father'll kill us."
"No, he won't." Lara rolled her eyes, or her one good eye rather - her left didn't like to cooperate with the right.

"Well, he'll punish us with muckin' duty for a year and then he'll send us over to the Tullard's to muck out their pens. After that it'll be every pen in Gadberry, and then if he thinks we haven't had enough, it'll be more muckin' out the castle stables."

"That sounds about right," Lara agreed, "so we don't let him know."

Yanny sighed, deeply and drawn out. "Fine. Get dressed Dil, we're goin' to keep your sister from dyin'."

"We're goin' to see the lights?" he asked.

"Yes we are," Lara replied confidently.

The eldest sister led her siblings carefully in the pre-dawn gloom, tracking a winding path that would show the least signs of movement. It wouldn't do to have Da discover their excursion because of a trail of footprints pointing straight from the house to the grove. Not once did her brother or sister -despite her look of consternation- complain, likely as enraptured by the now distinguishable lights as she was.

The comparison to fireflies was apt. The little bugs flitted about the Wolfswood at dusk, pinpricks of yellow and orange flaring up. Just like the insects, the trees flared brightly and died down at a steady, hypnotizing rhythm, although she had never seen a firefly glow such a vibrant shade of blue. In fact, she had never seen this color on any plant or animal - in all her memories she only recalled its bright blue hue on some piece of equipment being carried by a passing group of knights down at Ironrath, who if she remembered correctly, were hoisting spoils of war on their return march from the Greyjoy Rebellion. She remembered now. It was a shield with a silver scythe on pale blue like the sky at noon on a clear summer's day. The color could be a clue that would help answer the question of how these lights came to be.

What other clues could she find?

Firstly, none of the timber woods were lit, only the Pillars. Her Da had once explained the differences, one of the rare times she got quality answers for her questioning efforts, and he had said that timber woods were younger than the pillars. By a lot. If the maesters' records were to be believed, the oldest of the Pillars predated recorded history, while timber woods, so called for their desirability in logging, fell mostly within those records, even if they had sprouted from a sapling centuries ago. There inlay the other non-trivial difference; the shorter, younger timber woods could be used to create some of the hardiest structures in the known world, being an incredible building material for ships, shields, and castles if you could afford it, but the Pillars could not be cut or shaped by mortal means. Or so Da said. It certainly couldn't be cut by steel or burnt by fire, but then again, the shorter trees were resistant to cutting and burning as well, so it seemed to be an issue of degrees. She always believed they ought to try a bigger sword or maybe some of that wildfire she had heard of before concluding the Pillars 'could not be cut or shaped by mortal means'.

In any case, only the Pillars of Iron were lit. Except for the mightiest of all the Pillars, and wasn't that interesting? The tallest tree in the Wolfswood went by many names to the people who inhabited the forest, but her favorite had always been Cloud Piercer. Such a grand name for a big old tree. She thought it rather humorous.

What could this mean though? For every Pillar but the most central, the most important, to have their leaves enwreathed in light could imply some kind of intelligence was at play. If someone or something made this happen, they must be powerful indeed.

There's a clue for you, she thought as her eyes fell upon a novel set of glowing markings. Of all the Pillars, only this one bore the entwining spiral patterns on its bark, a voice to visitors screaming out 'This is important, come here.'

She hastened over to the spiral covered trunk, but a tug at her hem stopped her in her tracks. Yanna was looking at her with wide, fearful eyes, her narrow face awash in the ethereal blue glow.

"You've got your look. It's very pretty," her arm trembled, "Can't we go home now. Please."

"I don't know what's causing it yet," Lara stated simply.

"Why do you have to figure that out?" Yanny's voice, kept to a strained whisper shout, rose in pitch, "I don't want to meet anything that could do this!"

"Well I do."

Lara pivoted and strode forward before her sister could stop her again.

"Look at all the faeries," Little Dil followed her, gazing upwards in innocent wonder.

He was confusing the tree lights with fireflies, which were sometimes referred to as faerie lights. Again, it was a useful comparison.

"I don't think it's faeries, Dil," she corrected him.

"But- but it's all glowin'"

"Yes, but if you look closely, you'll see that it's the leaves that glow, not any bugs. See here?" She pointed out a low hanging branch.

"Ohhh."

She assumed he was still processing that information.

"Lara, Dil, get back here! Stop right this instant!"

It's not very commanding when you're whisper-shouting, little sister. She hoped Yanny wouldn't whine the whole time.

Dil hesitated though, wavering on whether to listen to his fearful big sister or follow his fearless bigger sister. In the end, his natural curiosity must have won over, as he took a few long, tottering steps to catch up.

Her sister played catch up as well, not content to be left behind. Safety in numbers and all that.

"We head back at sunrise," she insisted, "no later, or someone's liable to catch us out."

She did have a poignant argument there. "Alright, but stop slowing us down."

Yanny huffed.

The break of dawn wasn't far off, and the Sun would soon be peeking over the horizon, signaling the end to their misadventure.

The trio stopped in front of the peculiar tree - more peculiar than the other trees, at least.

"What are we looking for?" Yanny asked.

"Clues."

"What kind of clues?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but this tree seems important."

"You're so excellent at statin' the obvious."

"Thank you."

My little sister let out an explosive sigh.

A while was spent like that, encircling the vast trunk, searching for some other hint, but aside from the glowing markings, it really was identical to any of the other Pillars, not a scratch present and not a twig out of place.

As the sky began to lighten, Yanny asked another question, "Isn't it strange that there's nobody else around? There's plenty of folks as reckless as ye are."

She hummed in thought, "You make a good point, I would have assumed that there would be others out here even before us. Father must have told Lord Forrester by now, and surely anyone for leagues around would have noticed, the same as we did."

They weren't the only family living secluded in the Wolfswood, although not many chose to live so close to the Ironwood groves. Still, the lack of curious onlookers defied expectations.

That raised concerns, If the Lord issued orders to avoid the grove, we could get in more trouble than just punishments from Da. It might be time to retreat. She was about to suggest as much-

Creeeak

All three siblings jumped at the cracking creaking cacophony coming from the tree right in front of them. She couldn't quite comprehend what she was looking at. The bark split open from a seam like the jaws of an angry bear, exposing a hollow area inside.

From the hollow stepped a girl in a queer outfit - actually, if pressed to place her age, Lara would have said that the girl was a year or two her senior, more of a young woman really. That loud combination of pure white with bright red accents was a poor choice for forest activity, as evidenced by the numerous stains from dirt and plants smeared about. Her clothing was cut as a robe similar to what a septon might wear, if septons believed in colors other than brown. Draped across her shoulders was a scarf with a swapped color palette - white on red rather than red on white. It too bore the strange insignia that adorned her shoulders and hood, a short cross chased by two star tipped intertwining spirals not too dissimilar to the pattern on the tree behind her. Could the stars be a reference to the glowing tree tops?

The young woman was neither homely, nor would the men at the tavern describe her as a northern beauty. Her appearance was certainly uniquely identifiable though. She possessed thick bushy eyebrows and frizzy tightly curled hair that poofed out from around the edges of her hood, all in a shade of red common to the clanspeople of the northern Wolfswood. Freckles, heavily sprinkled from her chin to her forehead, battling with pale pink skin for dominance across her face. Lara thought the girl's best features were her lush red lips and well defined nose. Certainly, her eyes were nothing special, a dull brown native to many places across the world, including the North.

This not-quite-average-but-not-beautiful-either face was made up for in other departments, her curves filling out like many a highborn's, visible under the bulk of her robes. Her frame was otherwise average for a highborn lady. That is to say, a few inches taller than the majority of smallfolk women, including Lara.

The expression she wore was one of mild confusion clouded by grogginess, as if she'd just woken up, which to be fair, was more than likely given the early hour.

"Um, hi?" Tree-girl posited it more as a question than a greeting.

Somehow, the gape-mouthed sisters were outdrawn by their precocious toddler brother. "Are you a faerie?"

Dil, this is clearly a human girl who just happens to live in a tree. Or maybe she's really some tree-spirit. Either way, let's not anger the tree dweller. Hmm, although you may be on the right track. If anyone is going to have my answers, it'll be Tree-girl.

"Excuse me?" she sounded mildly affronted, but confoundment was still the dominant expression.

Lara took her chance. It was now or never. "Do you know why the Pillars are glowing?"

"I- What? Ex-excuse me? I mean, ok, yes I do know. I mean, uh- I didn't ruin anything right?" she sighed, "Okay, let me start over. If you couldn't tell already, I'm a parahuman, and the whole glowing tree thing is a part of my powers. I'm very sorry if I intruded on your religious grounds or whatever, but I had to signal for help. It clearly worked because you're here, although I really didn't expect to meet children at the first step out of my shelter. To make a long story short, I've been lost in the forest, and you're the first contact I've had in over a week. I assume from your accents that we're somewhere in the Yoo Kay, although I didn't know they still had forests like this over there, and the timezones don't make sense? Not to mention the ecology is out of whack," she muttered those last few points rapidfire, "Anyways," her volume picked back up, "could you please take me to where you came from? I need to get back home as soon as I can. I'll fix the trees on the way out if I need to."

An answer or two was certainly hidden somewhere in that rambling. There was just one problem: The dozens of new questions Lara now had. She'd stick with the original train of thought however. There was no need to overcomplicate matters yet.

"But why are the trees glowing?"

"I just told you. I was signaling for help."

Lara realized the question was ill-worded. "Apologies, I meant how are the trees glowing? What did you do to make them glow?"

Tree-girl blinked twice in quick succession. "It's part of my powers. I'm a parahuman."

That didn't explain anything.

"What powers? What's a parahuman?"

"Y- You don't know what a parahuman is?" She sounded worried, almost afraid that Lara would tell her that she had no idea what she was talking about.

"No. Should I?"

The girl's lips trembled. "I d-don't suppose by chance that you've been isolated your whole life? Do you live out in the middle of these woods?"

She asked the non-sequitur as if her salvation depended on Lara's affirmative answer.

Well, she was right on the mark, even if her question was seemingly unrelated to their conversation thus far, and Lara said as much. "Our family used to live closer to the village at the edge of the woods, but we moved out here a few years ago. I suppose our community is pretty isolated. We don't often get news from the outside world."

Tree-girl breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders untensing. "Okay then, can you take me to your parents? I really do need to get home."

Lara nodded. She supposed they could continue their chat on the way back to the homestead.

"Follow me. I'll lead you to our farm. I don't know when Father will be back, but you can talk to him when he does if you fancy."

"Great. Let's get going. I can't tell you how glad I am to see other people again. And finally use indoor plumbing."

"Indoor plumbing?" Lara parrotted.

"Please tell me you're fucking with me."

"'Fucking with you?' I should think not. Don't you think that's quite rude to say?"

"Er, sorry."

"It's alright, but if you use that kind of language around the others, you're liable to get in trouble."

"Noted."

This girl certainly had a penchant for strange turns of phrase and vulgar language. Seriously, 'fucking with her?' Even Lara had limits on what she said to other people.

As the two of them began their hike out of the grove, her siblings remained rooted to the spot, her sister's mouth still agape, and her brother looking back and forth between Lara and the strange girl with bewilderment.

"Yanny! Dil! Let's head out before Father gets back."

That shocked them back into motion, the two younger siblings jogging to Lara's side. They began their trek in earnest, and Lara would not let this precious time go to waste.

"About your powers. Could you explain more?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. I know you don't get a lot of news, so you don't know about the whole cape thing. Somehow…" she didn't have to be so condescending. Not everyone held all the answers. How was Lara supposed to know better if she didn't get answers? "But yeah, I'm an open cape, Panacea. I know that name doesn't mean anything to you, but it is what it is. If you want, you can call me Amy. I'm Brockton Bay's premier healer. That's a city on the east coast of the Yoo Ess, about an hour north of Boston, if you know where that is. I say healer, but there's no point in hiding things when it's all out in the open like this. I- um- I'll just say it - I'm a biokinetic. That means I have the power to look at the biology of any living thing, like the trees, and make whatever changes I want. Move stuff around, change up molecular structures. Like I said, I used to only use it for healing injuries and stuff, but recently I've realized there's no point in denying that it's greater than that. I'm capable of so much more than I could have thought, and none of it has to be bad. There's so many amazing things I can do with my powers. Such as using those trees as a gigantic signal light. Again, sorry about that. I'll fix it after I get transportation arranged."

Wow, that actually answered a lot, or it sounded like it would have if Lara understood half of what was said.

Before she could ask several thousand follow up questions, Amy preempted with one of her own. "So, are those trees actually a religious thing? Because I kinda felt bad about the whole violating natural wonders deal."

Again, Lara was cut off, this time by her little sister.

"You cut the Pillar open." If the awestruck tone of voice didn't give away Yanny's admiration, the wide eyes and still-agape mouth would have.

"Is that a bad thing?" Amy shrunk in on herself.

"Not as such," Lara answered, "there are some people who pray in the groves, but the Pillars aren't connected to any Gods. They really are just big trees. Now, when you said-"

She was interrupted again by Amy.

"Ha, 'big trees', she says. Those 'big trees' are incredible, a true marvel of evolution. I've never even conceived of an organic material that tough. And don't get me started on their other properties - high efficiency carbon sinks, broad spectrum photosynthesis, anti-aging telomere adaptations, the root systems. Oh my God, the root systems. You would not believe the depth those root structures can reach on the Great Tree. We're talking almost a mile below bedrock. Seriously, what kind of tree would go, 'Wow, I really feel like incorporating iron deposits into my lignin today.' Crazy."

The girl had a passion for trees. Lara got the sense that there was so much hidden information in that speech -which she couldn't begin to comprehend- that entire libraries could be written about its contents, and there would still be knowledge left over.

Just as she was about to begin her barrage of questions for the fourth time, she was interrupted by yet another distraction. Hearing the clomps of horse shoes, the four of them swiveled to look into the middle distance. They had been too invested in the conversation to realize how close the contingent of mounted men had gotten.

Uh oh. The lead rider bore a tabard emblazoned with an Ironwood timber tree.

"In the name of my father, Lord Gregor Forrester, I command you to halt!"

FantasticCheese · Jun 3, 2024

Drift 1.4

Amy II

A/N: Edited so Roderick is more in line with his characterization

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn't help but open up to the inquisitive girl. Back home, I would never have revealed so much of my inner turmoil to my family, let alone a random stranger I met five minutes ago, but through a combination of socialization deprivation and an improved state of mind, I was much more susceptible to spilling my guts to the first person I came across. Besides, the weird girl -I should have asked her name- made for the perfect candid conversation partner. There was little chance of interacting with her again after I returned home.

She looked to be on the verge of highschool age, and she was the perfect example of a country bumpkin, displaying a lack of comprehension of basic 21st century amenities. Her most distinctive features were her pug nose and lazy eye, a duet of traits that many would uncharitably ascribe to a stereotypical hillbilly girl straight out of Appalachia. Despite her apparent lack of education, she clearly had a curious nature -even if she was far too blunt about it- and I was happy to share what I could.

There had been a moment of near panic when she hadn't recognized the existence of parahumans, my mind jumping to drastic conclusions, but it made sense if she had lived her entire life in an isolated community. From the sounds of it, they might not even have cell coverage wherever she's from.

I placed her accent as British at first, but after some consideration, I realized it held a lilt that reminded me of Irish Americans, or maybe Scottish. Her little sister's accent was stronger, or at least I assumed the other girl was her sister and the boy her brother. They were both much quieter than the older girl.

I had just finished gushing about the incredible properties of the Ironwoods when a new sound caught my attention. To our three o'clock, a group of people on horseback of all things came careening through the trees. Were those people wearing armor?

What the hell?

The lead rider called to us, "In the name of my father, Lord Gregor Forrester, I command you to halt!"

The four of us stopped dead in our tracks, stunned by the strange turn of events.

"Do you know these people?" I whispered aside to my companion, keeping the newcomers in my cone of vision. If those scabbards held real swords, then these men were armed and potentially dangerous.

"Guardsmen of House Forrester from the looks of it," she replied.

Their leader looked me over. It didn't feel lecherous, more like he was piecing together a puzzle. Still, I felt uncomfortable.

"The grove has been decreed off limits until the lights have been investigated," he spoke. "We can spare an escort back to Ironrath, my lady."

That last part sounded not quite like a question, more as if he was unsure how to address me.

This is weird, right?

The men were dressed like they had just arrived from a ren-faire convention, complete with swords, shields, and actual horses. The armor and weapons looked real as well. Nothing was cheaply made.

Was I in the middle of a role playing event? Did they think I was a character? No, that made no sense. If that were the case, they probably would have called things off after the trees started growing.

Wait just a minute, they should be alarmed by the trees in the first place!

Something was very wrong here.

Some time had passed while I silently contemplated the irregularities, and some of the men seemed to be getting impatient.

"My lady," the lead rider repeated, "do you feel faint?"

I really didn't feel like playing along with whatever was going on. I'd ask them to escort me to actual civilization, and then I'd arrange for transportation home, possibly send psychiatric help for these guys who were way too dedicated to their roleplaying.

"Can we drop the medieval act, please?" I sighed at him. "Not sure if you could tell, but I've kind of been lost in the woods for over a week." I gestured to my grime-encrusted costume.

A few of the men bristled, but their leader didn't seem sure what to make of my words. "I'm not sure I follow. I understand that you must have been through an ordeal, but House Forrester extends its hospitality to you. Allow my men to escort you to the keep, my lady…" he seemed to be searching for some phrase. "Apologies, I do not recognize your house's emblem."

"Emblem?" I was confused again.

"The red cross and trailing stars?" He seemed equally as confused as I did.

Oh my god, they were still staying in character.

"Look," I said a little more sharply than I intended, "this isn't a costume, or well, okay, it is a costume, but it's a hero costume. I'm a parahuman. Panacea."

I didn't know if I held enough international fame to be recognized by the everyday englishman. Hopefully, the parahuman reveal would finally snap these weirdos out of their role playing.

I had no such luck.

"You've clearly had a difficult journey getting here, but this is no time to lose your faculties. I insist that you rest and recover at our holdfast."

This was really starting to piss me off. All I want is to go home, is that so much to ask for?

I gave them a piece of my mind. "Listen. To. Me. I don't fucking care about your roleplaying, or LARPing, or whatever you call it. Just-" I took a calming breath, "just please take me somewhere with cell service so I can call my family. I really just want to get back to Brockton Bay, and then you can keep doing whatever it is you're doing. Okay?"

"I beg your pardon?" The man sounded affronted.

"Watch your tongue girlie, or you'll find we have no use for it." One of the soldiers spoke, a dark eyed man with a puckered scar marring his lip.

What the fuck? Did he just threaten to cut out my tongue?

Had I somehow misread the situation? Did these men actually believe they were medieval knights? And how dare this asshole?

"Listen dickwad," I spat at scarface, "where I come from, those kinds of threats are not okay."

He urged his horse forward into my personal space, looming over me. In my pocket, white knuckles gripped the sleeping agent in a vice.

"Is that anyway for a lady to talk?" He sneered, baring crooked yellow teeth.

I was a second away from downing the counteragent when the leader shoved his way forward and pushed an arm in front of scarface, blocking him off.

"Peace, peace! This is no way to act for either of you. A lady should act as befits her station." He turned a glare on the other man. "Len, there will be a discussion concerning proper conduct."

"Yes, my lord. I apologize."

I had expected more hostility out of the asshole -I refused to call him by his name- but he deferred to the other man in a respectful tone.

"Cool." I was done with this. There was no way in hell I'd let any of these guys escort me anywhere, not when I didn't feel safe around them. "I'm leaving now. Come on kids, we're getting out of here."

"Wait!" Leader man called out. "You're Jered's daughter. Lara, right? Your father was worried you'd wander off into the grove, and he asked us to keep an eye out. I insist that you all accompany us back to Ironrath. My lady, you'll be able to send a raven to your family."

This was the final straw. These men actually believed they were medieval knights, and they were trying to detain us.

With that revelation the rest of the disparate pieces slotted into place, and it wasn't painting a pretty picture. It seemed to me that these children were living under the rule of a madman playing at being a king straight out of the Dark Ages, hence the knights on horseback. It explained why the girl had no knowledge of modern technology - she was kept locked away from the outside world by a parahuman warlord who didn't want anyone breaking out from his insane little forest kingdom. Likely, I was dealing with some kind of Master who could influence others into being his "knights" who carried out his bidding.

And I had outright told them that I was a parahuman. Shit, it was no wonder they wanted to bring me back to their base so badly -their excuses were paper thin- where they could put me under his control. I was getting out of here right this moment whether or not they tried to stop me. My hand tightened around my only weapon.

I wouldn't bow down to villains. "Screw this, I'm not playing your game. You can tell your Master to let me leave and to go fuck off."

"Damnable wench!" Len drew his sword from his sheath.

There was no time to think, no time to plan. Just action.

"Hold!" shouted their leader.

He never got a chance to follow through. Quickly unpocketing the counteragent, I shattered the container over my lips, letting the sappy liquid flow down my throat, while in the same motion hefting my sphere full of sleeping powder. With a thought, the wooden sphere imploded in a cloud, specks faintly shimmering in the dawn rays.

Len made it less than five strides before his eyes rolled up into his head, his sword thudding on the ground as he slipped sideways off his mount. The rest fared no better, all falling unconscious moments after exposure. The horses took a little longer to succumb, their larger mass increasing the needed dosage, but they too collapsed to the ground, taking their sleeping riders with them.

Without time to give warning or prepare defenses for them, the children were caught in the crossfire. The girl had fallen in my direction, and her full weight braced against my side caused me to list in exertion in order to keep her head from smacking into the dirt. With effort, I set her down gently.

Shit, shit, shit. I checked on the other kids. Vitals all good. I breathed a sigh of relief. Getting children hurt through my carelessness was the last thing I wanted.

I didn't want to be responsible for any deaths, so I checked over all the sleeping soldiers. A few had taken nasty bruises, but none sustained any broken bones or head injuries. The horses were fine as well.

My heart was still pounding from the burst of action. I had never used my powers offensively before, and the adrenaline rush was a new sensation. I could have been hurt. They could have been hurt. I broke my rules. Again. I took a shaking breath to clear my head.

This wasn't the time for worrying - I took stock of my situation, planning my next move. This had turned into a shitstorm, everything falling apart in a matter of minutes. What were my goals? Still to get home as soon as I could. How was I going to accomplish that? I had to find the exit out of the forest, and if the girl's words were to be believed, then I probably wasn't too far away.

That just left the other obstacles in my way. This Lord Forrester guy.

What a stupid, egotistical name for your cape identity.

I needed to organize everything I knew about him if I wanted to survive this intact. However his powers worked, it likely allowed him to exert influence over at least a half dozen men to the point of zealotry, forcing them to his service and altering their state of mind to align with his mad pretensions at a feudal society. Presumably, there were many more people held under his sway in nearby towns and villages. Also, he had to have some sort of connection to the Ironwoods. Are they biotinkered after all? If that was the case, there could be multiple powered villains. Fuck me.

One thing was for sure. Whether these guys were mastered or not, they were bad news. Threatening mutilation over an outsider speaking against them was no laughing matter - they were undoubtedly evil.

I had to get going before they woke up. The sleeping agent was fast acting, but it wouldn't last longer than an hour at the most. While there might be ways to achieve both traits in one compound, I hadn't conceived of one yet.

So I needed to start moving, but my steps faltered. I hesitated. Leaving these children behind in the clutches of a mad villain didn't sit right with me, but could I really take them with me? They'd be a liability and hindrance. If I left them here though, the soldiers might react badly, enacting punishment on them for my perceived transgression.

No, I couldn't abandon them to such a cruel fate. I began the process of waking the children up. Instead of creating more counteragent, I manually flushed their systems, sending their consciousnesses abruptly back to the land of the waking. Their malnourishment and general lack of health fanned the flames of my anger. I would not allow this Lord Forrester asshole to hurt them a day longer.

The girl gasped, snapping up sharply. "What did you do?" Unbelievably, she sounded less upset than curious.

I snatched up her hand sharply, without care for being gentle. "No time, we're going now. I'm getting you out of here."

I yanked her along, stumbling with me to the other two, grabbing the little boy's hand too, albeit more gently.

"Amy, I think there may've been a misunderstanding."

"What's goin' on? Please don' hurt us!" the smaller girl cowered at my approach.

The older sister shook her head roughly, like she was clearing a mental fog. "Amy. Listen to me," she said in her blunt, emotionless speech pattern, "I can't claim to know what's going through your head right now. Maybe those men reminded you of something awful." She gestured to Len's splayed form, legs still attached to the saddle. "He had no right to make that kind of threat." Her one good eye met mine, unwavering and unblinking. "Nor should he have attacked you."

The elder sister strode over to her siblings. The young girl had started crying, silent tracks trailing down her cheeks, the boy copying his sister's distress, bawling and clinging to her in fear.

"It's alright Yanny. Dil," she patted his head with awkward up and down motions, "Amy didn't mean to be so scary."

Far from sounding comforting, the words were cast in that numb quality unique to her, yet they served to calm down the children all the same.

"Is everyone sleeping soundly?" she quickly glanced between me, the fallen men, and the children, still holding on to them tightly.

I caught on to her hidden meaning. "Yeah, I checked up on them. A few aches here and there, but everyone will be alright."

"I never caught your name." I spoke after a pause.

"Lara."

"Okay Lara, we need to get going. Now.

"Go where?" she shot back, cool as a cucumber, holding my eyes again. It was unsettling.

"I need to get home, and I'm getting you out of here because you're all in dan- you're under the influence of this Lord Forrester person," I rephrased, not wanting to upset the kids further.

She blinked once, slowly. "Yes, we are under his influence. We live in his territory. Is this unusual to you?"

"Yes!" Yanny flinched at my shout, so I toned down my volume, "You live in the middle of the forest under the rule of a man calling himself after a 'lord' who treats you like serfs and has bands of literal horse riding knights." It was a struggle not to raise my voice at the absurdity of it all.

She cocked her head to the side - it was reminiscent of the way a dog tilts their head when talking to them. "I feel there's been a mistake in our understanding of each other, and I suspect we've been talking past each other since we first met." That single eye, a brown flecked green nebula locked unerringly onto my own. "Amy, I need you to tell me why you find the idea of lords so troubling. I need to understand."

"We don't have time for this," I snarled, "every second we waste is a second closer to those men waking up."

"So we wait for them to wake up," she shrugged.

I strained to keep from yelling again, "Are you out of your mind? They're dangerous. They're mastered at best, and willingly complicit at worst."

"Amy, you keep saying things I don't understand. These men are most assuredly the lord's trained men, not raiders or bandits. If your issue is with Lord Forrester himself, then tell me why. Clear up this confusion."

I hadn't wanted to bring it up directly. Telling Master victims they were mastered was rarely productive, but I felt I was out of options. This had dragged on too long.

"You're being mastered," I spoke plainly, hoping to appeal to her clear desire for logic.

"I don't know what that means."

Shit, okay that makes sense if she's been lied to her whole life. No knowledge of parahumans, right. Or that information could have been brainwashed out of her. No telling what kind of powers I could be facing.

I tried explaining it in a way she would have to understand. "You're being controlled. Literally. This Lord Forrester could be changing your thought processes or emotions. It's his power. He must be a parahuman like me." My impassioned pleas had to reach her, please see reason. "Think about it. Why wouldn't he let you leave the forest? Why does he need all these armed men? It doesn't make sense. Unless he's using his powers to control his soldiers and to keep the rest of you from seeing the truth." I bodily shook her, willing her to break out of whatever influence she was under. I hadn't detected direct manipulation of neurochemical pathways or brain waves, but parahuman powers were both strange and varied, so something beyond my ability to detect was always an option.

She remained motionless, processing the world-shattering revelation. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had finally gotten through to her. "Amy, I really do think that there's some horrible misunderstanding happening, so I say this with all the respect you are due."

She paused for a breath, "What you just said is utterly insane."

This was hopeless. Of course the girl being mastered didn't believe she was being mastered. It wouldn't be a very good Master power otherwise.

There was no chance in hell I'd be able to drag Lara, let alone all three children out of the forest with me. I had to leave them.

I'm sorry.

Closing my eyes, I turned to face away from my failure with fists clenched in anger. "I'm leaving whether or not you decide to come with me. Goodbye, Lara."

"Wait."

I didn't.
"I know you spoke true about your powers!"

A twig snapped as my foot came down, halting.

"I've seen you do things. Things I thought impossible yesterday. I don't know whether it's old magics or new magics or something else entirely that I can't begin to imagine, but I know it's real." She conveyed more in monotone than many could with a full range of emotion.

I faced back around. There waited her one-eyed stare, asking and insistent. Demanding.

"And I know you believe what you said about masters and control. You spoke with the confidence of true experience."

"What's your point?"

"Just as truly as you think Lord Forrester has this power you speak of, I think that you are wrong. I don't know how to convince you. I could bring you before every man, woman, and child for miles around, and they would say the same as me. But I know you would claim that they too were simply under control. So tell me, how far would we have to travel to find someone you considered trustworthy?" Her gaze drilled into me. "I wish to understand you, the way you speak, the things you speak of. Help me understand your position, and I'll do the same for you."

Not a single finger twitched out of place during her whole speech. If she wasn't talking, the girl could have been mistaken for a lifelike statue.

Lara continued, "I think we've lived lives separated by a vast ocean of differing experiences. Whatever brought you here, clearly it was not by any means I know of. If you had traveled across the breadth of land by foot or horse, you would have encountered other noble houses."

The implication hit me like a freight train, resurfacing my earlier forgotten fears. My hands balled up in white knuckled fists, my shoulders tensed, and my legs shook.

She's a mastering victim. She doesn't know what she's talking about, just some poor girl misled by an evil man.

That singular green iris bored into my soul.

"How did you come to these lands?" She asked.

I answered. "I was teleported."

"What does it mean to be teleported?"

"Instantaneous travel. I was in Brockton Bay one moment and somewhere else the next. Faster than you could blink."

"Where is Brockton Bay located?"

My lip trembled. "New Hampshire, in the United States of America"

"I have never heard of this New Hampshire or these United States of America before. I live in the Seven Kingdoms, on a landmass called Westeros. Have you heard of these places before?" She asked.

Ba-dump, my heartbeat reverberated in my eardrums. "I can't say I have. Lord Forrester must have made them up for the story he's feeding to you."

Of course the villain fed these people a make believe fairy tale to maintain his control. Just because it was well put together didn't mean anything. It would have to be in order to remain ruler for so long. She can't help but believe the lies. I don't have to listen to this.

"I've met hundreds of people over the course of my life, many of whom have never met Lord Forrester, and they all accept Westeros and its Seven Kingdoms as common knowledge. If they haven't had contact with this controlling power you speak of, why would they believe the lies?"

"Parahuman powers are strange," I defended, "so he might not need direct contact with his victims."

"I've read the history of Westeros in texts. Is that a lie as well?"

"Books are easily fabricated," I snapped back.

I let go of her shoulder. My mouth was dry as I spoke. "It's obvious you've been fed a convincing lie, but there are holes in your story. If everything is as you say, why wouldn't you be allowed to leave?" I followed with the logical conclusion. "It's because if you did, you would see through the deception."

"But I am allowed to leave. Smallfolk are not tied by law to the lands they live upon and have freedom to migrate to another lord's land so long as they obey the rule of law."

"Then why haven't you?" This was beyond frustrating.

"Why would I? There is no livelihood for me elsewhere. I have no trade to ply, and I have family and a farm to tend." She spoke with such sincerity, such conviction that I almost believed her story for a moment.

I forced myself out of that line of thinking. She's the crazy one here.

Let's see how she likes this one, "If your story was true, why haven't you had contact with any outsiders before me then?" Gotcha.

"But I never said I haven't met any other outsiders. Traveling merchants, hedge knights, the septons, minstrels, they all pass through the villages from time to time, coming from lands near and far. Are they too under control?"

I tried to swallow, but there was no spit left. "Have you ever considered that maybe he intentionally lets a few people under his direct control out into the world to draw more people in?"

If my argument swayed her, she showed no sign of it.

She followed up with an unrelated question, "What is your trade?"

I was getting sick and tired of this.

"What does it fucking matter?" I was done with politeness. "What's the point of all these damn questions?"

She didn't answer me. She just stared. Like the eye of fucking Sauron.

"Fine!" I shouted, and I didn't care how the children stepped back. "I'm a healer. I use my powers to save people's lives!"

"Are powers common where you live?"

"They damn well are! There's no possibility you wouldn't know about them unless there was outside interference. There are parahumans in literally every country on Earth! You can't not know about them."

It was simply impossible. Everyone on the planet knew about parahumans, from the news, the villains, the heroes, the warlords and vigilantes, and the endbringer fights. They were ubiquitous.

"Earth?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"Amy, where do you think we are?"

Where do I think I am? I know where I fucking am. You're the deluded one here.

Ba-dump Ba-dump

"We're probably in the British isles," I ground out, "Ireland by your accent.

"I've not heard of these British Isles or the Ireland you speak of, nor have I seen them in what records are available to me. Can you tell me where this Earth is in relation to here? What lands do you know of?" She wouldn't stop asking fucking questions.

Why couldn't this girl just realize how wrong this all was?

The world lurched. I felt light headed.

I can't let myself take this seriously. She's not in her right mind. She's been lied to, mastered. Nothing she says means anything.

Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump

Darkness encroached upon the corners of my vision. Was I hyperventilating? I needed oxygen. I needed to think. I needed Lara to stop.

"How far away do you think you are from home?" She asked, and asked, and asked!

"Enough!"

I stood there panting, vision blurry. In the distance, a flock of birds took flight above the trees, cawing and crowing.

An eternity passed as I glared at her, fighting to regain self control. Deep breaths helped, in and out, but the shaking wouldn't go away.

"Congratulations," I sneered, "you've successfully wasted my time. If you were trying to hold me back so your 'Lord' can catch up, then good job." My words dripped with acid. I was far past the point of caring if Lara's feelings got hurt. If she even had any.

"That wasn't my intention."

Right, mastering victim spouting nonsense.

"Whatever, we're done here." I gave my final words to her.

I wiped down my robes, and marched off.

"Where will you go?"

I ignored her.

"Talk to others. They'll tell you the same as I have. Are they all controlled too?"

More meaningless words meant only to delay me. I didn't have to listen any further, and I increased my pace.

In the end, she neither insisted nor pleaded, pedaling her two-bit fantasy tale like she was describing the weather. Yet as her last words to me faded out of earshot, they remained lodged in my head, a parasite burrowing its way into my psyche that I was unable to rid myself of. I would not entertain the implications of her stories. I could not, or I'd go insane. Just like she had.

I continued on, alone once more.

FantasticCheese · Jun 8, 2024

Drift 1.5

Amy III

Lara's words haunted me as I ran at a breakneck speed through the woods, compelling me to reexamine everything that I had learned so far, to get a second impression of every strange detail I had dismissed and every irregularity I had overlooked.

My power gave me a good memory for organic chemistry and genetic sequences, so I could tell that the genetic markers were wrong, the plants were all wrong. Oh, it was subtle, but it would still be difficult to rationalize it away through regional variation or random mutation, and once I saw it, I could no longer unsee it.

How could I have not noticed it before when it was so painfully obvious?

I froze. Was that galloping I heard? No, just my imagination. Fuck, everything was falling apart.

I had long since lost my direction wandering through the trees, constantly looking over my shoulder always sure pursuers were just out of sight. West, I think I was going west. Checking the Sun, it was about midday. Not helpful.

Back to things that should have been obvious. Plants weren't the only organisms bearing anomalous genotypes. Lara, the kids, the soldiers, they all shared a combination of alleles both expressed and unexpressed that I had never observed before in a patient, and I had healed a lot of people. That list included nearly every ethnicity, close to the entire breadth of the human gene pool.

So why were these people so different?

It could be one significant mutation event, passed down through this isolated group, I theorized.

No, that wouldn't work. Based on the extensive differences between them, their last common ancestor should have existed around 10,000-12,000 years ago. It was improbable that this could be the result of isolationism for such a long period of time.

I wracked my brain for another explanation, strange genetic markers… Could this be the result of the Master's influence? Might be how he controls them.

Maybe there was a connection between the trees and the people. There was never any reason to think the Ironwoods were natural creations when a sufficiently skilled biotinker could fabricate signs of aging. A biotinker. What if this villain isn't a straightforward Master at all, but rather a biotinker messing with the local populations?

'How far would we have to travel to find someone you considered trustworthy?' 'Are they all controlled too?'

Lara's words echoed in my head.

One surefire method remained that would prove or disprove my theory. I had to find someone outside the influence of control, someone normal. I just had to find my way out of the forest.

Just make it out of the forest. It became a mantra pushing me forwards, the engine driving my motions through the aches and sores, through hunger and fear. This was the hardest I'd pushed myself yet. I knew intellectually that I could not sustain this suicidal pace, but the enemies were closing in, and freedom, home, lay ahead if only I could make it out of the forest.

It was the wolves all over again, and I was the prey, an intruder in a foreign land where I did not belong. Branches scraped my face, but I ignored the stings. Brambles caught on my hem, ripping threads, but still I ran on. The forest that had been a bastion of peace and reflection morphed into something sinister, hostile. Was it my imagination that the brush was denser and the shadows darker?

I was coming up on hilly terrain again. Was I backtracking? I needed to get my bearings first. Scrabbling up the hillside left me winded and worn. I couldn't go on much longer when I was already approaching the limits of my endurance. Heavy breaths kept oxygen flowing through my blood as I doubled over, clutching my sides.

Where was I? How far had I gotten from the grove? Not far enough. I needed a familiar guide in this sea of wrongness that surrounded me.

The Sun was beginning its descent, so I was facing… North, I'd been traveling north, I think, back the way I came. God damnit, I wasn't sure that was right. Things weren't making any sense.

About 30 degrees off the horizon, poking above the treeline was the pale half-moon. I didn't know if I could use the Moon to navigate, but at least it was something else familiar-

My blood froze.

Wrong.

I'd seen the Moon before. In pictures. With my own eyes. And what I saw now was wrong. It had been waiting there ready to stare me in the face the whole time. The dots connected in my head. The wrong moon. The wrong genetics. The wrong culture. Dominoes fell. Piñon pines don't grow in temperate forests. Novel mushroom species. Strange people. Ironwoods… they simply weren't found on Earth. Modern humanity would have known about them. To think otherwise was stupid, foolish, insane.

A wave of nausea brought me to my knees as I spewed last night's dinner all over the hilltop. Tears streamed down my cheeks as stomach acid burned my throat raw. I couldn't breathe. Everything spun dizzyingly.

With the evidence interpreted through this new lens, I realized I'd been a blind fool. Bakuda's bomb didn't teleport me to the opposite end of the Earth.

They sent me off of Earth. I was no longer on the same planet I knew.

Fuck, maybe I got blasted to an alternate reality, or a different galaxy, or some kind of pocket dimension. Even the moon is different here.

It explained horrifyingly why nobody had come to my rescue. Even if everyone else thought I had died initially, Vicky wouldn't stop searching for me, doing everything within her power to persuade the PRT to help. They had Thinkers and Tinkers specialized in search and rescue, and I was one of the best healers the heroes had, but did they see me as valuable enough to expend every effort in their search? If they did bring all their cards to the table, would they even be able to find me?

This whole time, I had deluded myself into believing otherwise, that I would be able to go home. To see my sister again.

My crying renewed with quiet sobs and shallow gasping breaths. I wanted to curl up into a ball and give up.

I couldn't. I had attacked people with my powers. Visions of the men lying on the forest floor flashed through my mind, their necks snapped and eyes glazed over. I shook my head to clear away the false imagery.

I had to face the facts - there was no Master, only pissed off locals. If Lara was to be believed, the people of this world really didn't know about parahumans, and I had used my powers on them. There was little doubt that they would send trackers after me. Likely, the soldiers would inform everyone nearby to keep vigilant. It would be a witch hunt, ending with me burned at the stake. And they only found me in the first place because I had led them right to me with a giant glowing billboard.

Besides my impending doom, just because I was much farther away from home than I thought at first didn't mean all hope was lost. If Professor Haywire could create portals to Aleph, who's to say some other parahuman couldn't create a portal to wherever this forsaken forest was?

So, I couldn't give up. I had to survive and get as far as I could as fast as possible while evading anyone I came across.

I pushed myself up on weak arms. Water was the first priority, to ensure the acid wouldn't do more harm to my esophagus. Food came next, or wouldn't last another hour. It was difficult not to panic as I scrounged for what bounty the forest could provide. I went with the first sources I found - a still pool of dirty water that I thoroughly scoured clean and a few handfuls of wild berries hastily torn off the bush.

Then, it was time to move on. Mounted riders could travel at greater speeds than I could run, letting any pursuers catch up to me at an alarming pace. Rising from my kneeling position, my sense of balance was thrown off, and I wobbled precariously, all four of my limbs shaking with legs barely able to support my weight. My stamina had reached its limit. I cursed myself for not pacing myself better, but there was nothing to do now but recover what strength I could.

Resting out in the open was a surefire way to get caught, so I went with the tried and true treehouse construction method. The last few days, using my powers in this way had been invigorating for me, but now it further exhausted my reserves. The hollow had to be undetectable from the outside, and without an Ironwood, the available options forced me to get creative - I made some of the roots retract to add extra bulk around the trunk, which would probably end up killing the oak if I didn't fix it later. This made the tree look a little bottom heavy, a defect I hoped would be overlooked by any keen eyed trackers.

My newest home felt more akin to a coffin, the confines pressing in on me. Once settled, the fatigue hit me all at once, and I slept like the dead.

I awoke to wet cheeks and unremembered nightmares.

Tapping into the tree's primitive senses revealed it was probably dusk outside. I could discern little else.

Of course, my body decided to remind me that I needed to relieve myself. Remembering my lessons from the wolves, I prepared another ball of powder in case anyone was laying in wait - mankind was known for their clever use of traps after all.

Craaaack

I cringed - it might be worth investing into quieter doors. For now I had to pray it didn't alert anyone.

I relieved the pressure in my bladder by one of the many moss covered boulders that populated the woods, buried partway into the earth. As I was finishing up, the winds carried fragments of a conversation to me.

"-what I heard-"

"-Lord—warning."

It was too faint to make out the rest, but it was clear that people were coming to investigate.

I crouched behind the boulder, breathing as lightly as I could while my heart raced a mile a minute, my ears straining to listen for approaching footsteps or snapping twigs.

Nothing more could be heard over the rustle of leaves and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Perhaps they had turned back to gather the rest of their crew, in which case I should make a break for it. Or they had simply stopped talking. I couldn't tell one way or the other.

What felt like an eternity passed without any further voices or other suspicious sounds. I eased up on my breathing, allowing more air to flow into my lungs and clear my light head.

"You can give it up now girl."

My breath hitched, a gasp escaping my throat. The voice had come from just off to my left.

The man was standing less than ten feet away, and I hadn't even heard him approach. There was no choice, I'd have to use my sleep powder again. I reached to withdraw my containers.

"Uh-uh-uh, let's not have a repeat of earlier."

I didn't immediately recognize the man, but his comment jogged my memory - he was there at the confrontation this morning, one of the men in the background that I hadn't paid attention to. All I could say about his appearance is that he possessed a weak chin and was of average height with close cropped brown hair, and he wore a leather bandolier over his clothes.

I had to take him out and make a run for it.

He must have read my intentions. "Parther over there can draw faster than you, I'm betting."

He indicated with a casual pointing of his thumb. I followed his direction off to my right, wary in case he tried to close the distance, and sure enough, there was another man dressed in a mottled cloak of forest greens and browns some ten odd meters away. He carried a bow down at his side and a quiver strapped to his back. I didn't let the fact that no arrow was yet drawn fool me. I'd seen how quickly a professional archer could get a shot off on television, and it was indeed a safe bet that he'd draw faster than I could incapacitate him.

"So here's how this is gonna work. I'm gonna have you empty those pockets for me, nice and slow like, and I'm gonna hold onto your special little weapons for you."

"And if I don't want to do that?" I replied.

"You don't exactly hold a strong bargaining position here, girl."

The man had an easy going way about him, confidence that wasn't that didn't quite cross the line to cockiness, but rather a self assuredness that he could handle anything I threw at him.

And he's right, damnit. I couldn't risk trying anything, not when his partner could put an arrow in me before I could act. I had to try something though - the thought of giving up my contingency to these two sent shivers down my spine. I wouldn't be defenseless -I still had my powers- but it was a weaker plan than the sleeping powder.

"You can see why a girl alone in the woods wouldn't want to disarm to two grown men, right?"

I couldn't quite take the edge of fear out of my voice.

"No harm is to befall you, should you cooperate with us. We are to escort you safely back to Ironrath. Our orders."

"Is that why you threatened to shoot me?" I retaliated.

"Doesn't mean we can't act in self defense." He shrugged, "You're not some clawless little kitten. No sense in taking risks."

"So," he continued after a brief pause, "weapons?"

Begrudgingly, I withdrew the wooden sphere containing my powder. I stood up slowly -I didn't want to alarm the bowman- and placed it in his outstretched palm.

"Got any more of those lying around?" He asked.

"Nope." I made the 'p' pop.

"Truly? Seem to be favoring your other pocket."

I handed over the counteragent too.

"Don't cut them open." I said.

It would be annoying to have the bowman blame me when this guy put himself to sleep through sheer incompetence. I didn't want any holes perforating my lungs.

He slipped the spheres into his own pants pocket. "Wasn't planning on it."

He clapped his hands. "Let's get moving. Not much daylight left to burn."

The three of us formed a line, him leading, me in the middle, and the bowman following a ways behind. As we passed in sight of my hollow, he let out a low whistle.

"That your work, girl?

No comment.

"Alright then. That's probably what you heard, Parther."

The bowman, Parher, grunted, "Looks about right."

He cast furtive glances at the tree, seeming far more wary than his smooth talking partner.

The rest of the trip devolved into silence as we continued our conga line through the forest. Twilight was almost upon us, and I didn't think they'd keep going in the dark, so we were likely to stop soon.

Letting them take me to their stronghold would put me at risk and surround me with more guards. If I wanted to avoid that, I'd have to take them out once we made camp. I was confident that I could make a clean break away from the two of them -my power suggested several options both lethal and nonlethal- but they'd only send more after me again, and the next group might not be so accommodating.

"Never caught your name," the lead man said, "Cley."

He held out his hand. I didn't shake it.

"Amy," I supplied.

"Just Amy?"

I nodded.

"Alright Amy, here's how this is gonna work. When we join up with the rest of the camp, you're gonna behave yourself. You get any funny ideas, and we might have to end this gentle treatment. You don't try anything, and we keep going as we have been. Hells, I'll give you free reign of the camp. You can even talk with the others if you feel like it. Sound like a deal?"

I nodded again. "Yeah."

"Excellent." Cley clapped his hands - a habit of his.

A few minutes later, an orange glow came into view, probably their camp fire. It hadn't come a moment too soon, coinciding right as the last light of day faded into night. My assumption turned out to be correct, and the scene resolved into four men surrounding a medium sized fire. Actually, the person in the back might have been a woman with a stocky build. Some animal -a rabbit maybe- was roasting over the flames and wafting the aroma of cooked meat, sending my saliva production into overdrive.

The jovial mood among the camp goers shifted at my arrival to wariness. It seemed the rest shared Parther's apprehension of me with Cley being the odd one out. None of the others were recognizable, making Cley the only person here to have seen my capabilities firsthand, so it was surprising to me that he was the least wary.

"Well, don't just stare," he said to the others, "we're damn starving."

That got motion to return to the camp. Chatter resumed, and the rabbit -definitely a rabbit- was rotated on its spit by the designated cook, although the atmosphere was still subdued, their voices not as boisterous as I heard on approach. Notably, I was a topic of conversation well avoided.

Cley turned to me. "I suppose you must be rather hungry."

My stomach took that chance to growl furiously, loudly enough to be heard by the entire camp which garnered me some glances.

What, never seen a hungry girl before? I felt the heat of my face flushing. Or I could pretend it's just the warmth from the campfire.

"I've been surviving off of nuts, berries, and mushrooms for nine days." I spoke quietly and avoided eye contact. "Yeah, I'm starving."

"You can sit wherever you like," he said, "but don't wander off."

I nodded in acknowledgement.

I chose the spot furthest away from the others that was still within the fire's heat. Cley sat down a few feet to my right, and Parther took a spot to my left. It was noticeably farther away.

No one tried to make conversation with me, which was fine in my book. Really, I needed time to think about my situation.

What future was there for me? Pick your poison, but no matter what variety of stranded off Earth Bet I was, I was seriously screwed.

Assuming I was stranded in an alternate reality, there were some options for rescue. Parahuman powers were unique to each individual, but there tended to be overlapping specialties. It actually seemed statistically unlikely that Professor Haywire would be the only cape with powers focused on dimensional travel. There was potential for capes that could traverse dimensional boundaries or simply open a portal straight to my location in the multiverse, but that was predicated on such a cape bothering to try and find me.

The best option was for this forest to be some variety of pocket dimension, hopefully anchored to the blast site. There were multiple capes known for creating or accessing pocket dimensions. Dodge from that group of rogue Tinkers came to mind. Myrddin actually used them as well, despite his claims of magic. Many, many capes had personal pocket dimensions, or hammer spaces as some called them. There was that villain down in Atlanta who locked a mall full of people into a pocket dimension that expanded to several times its original size. The PRT had to send in Eidolon to pop whatever dimensional bubble was cutting off the mall from the rest of the world. That was always a possibility - Eidolon could have any power he wanted, including ones that might be able to locate me. If he cared to look.

Perhaps the worst thought by far was that I had been sent to a galaxy far far away in a freak accidental power interaction. I remembered one of my chats with Vicky about parahuman research -one of many- where she brought up a paper about distance limits on powers. It was well known before the paper that many parahuman powers simply stopped functioning at the edge of the atmosphere; teleporters couldn't teleport into space, flyers lost flight at a certain altitude, and so on. The only exceptions seemed to be certain pieces of tinkertech, like Dragon's suits or the tinkertech satellites in orbit.

In the paper, the researchers described how they had taken a group of capes up in a manned flight aboard a conventional high altitude jet. At around 50 miles up, every cape reported loss of powers from Thinkers to Shakers to Changers to Brutes. It was now considered one of the hard limits on parahuman powers. Leave the surface of Earth, and you leave your powers behind.

It implied that if I indeed had the terrible misfortune to be translocated across the universe, then there was little anyone else could do to help me.

I'm sure I was discounting other possibilities, but functionally they were all the same. I was stranded, and I had no easy way home.

I hunched in on myself. I couldn't afford to break down again. Not here.

Relying on outside help was my only recourse long term. In the meantime, I had to survive.

So what did I do in the here and now?

I needed a good rapport with the locals if I wanted to be a part of anything resembling civil society. As nice as my forest retreat was for a few days, I couldn't imagine myself living like that indefinitely.

And what a great start to that objective, I chastised myself.

I had only insulted and assaulted the first real contact in this new world - first impressions were not my forte. Given that the level of technological advancement resembled the middle ages, it was a miracle these people didn't want to crucify me or burn me alive. There wasn't any open hostility at the camp, and I counted myself lucky to have gotten off with a mild case of mistrust.

Lara probably thought I was mentally deranged, which was entirely fair. Hurtful things were said in what I now realized was heavy denial. I wasn't thinking very logically when I concocted my insane Master conspiracy, and I had outright ignored all the other evidence because I didn't want to believe that I wouldn't be going home.

If I didn't want to go back to being a hermit in the woods, I'd need to regain the locals' trust, and I could start by picking my words more carefully from now on. No more blurting out statements about powers and parahumans. I'd try to be respectful and phrase things in a way that didn't get me labeled an evil sorceress.

Gentle shaking pulled me from my thoughts. Cley offered a leg of meat along with a small half loaf of dense bread and hard cheese, filling in the three biggest deficiencies in my diet - animal based proteins, carbohydrates, and lipids.

"Figured you'd still be hungry," he said.

I gave a brief nod before devouring my meal.

Meeeaaaat, self reflections were temporarily forgotten.

I wasn't a carnivore like my uncle Neil -the man looked for any excuse to hold a family barbeque- but I appreciated a good roast. Juices dripped down my chin as I tore into the haunch. The taste was gamier and the texture stringier than I was used to, and I'd compare it to a cross between lamb and chicken. The bread served as a decent pallet cleanser following the cheese which reminded me of those parmesan blocks Mark kept in the back of the fridge. It tasted a bit like parmesan too.

Not seeing any better alternative, I wiped the grease off on my robes - it's not like they could get any dirtier.

For the first time since my arrival to this world, I was fully satiated, more than merely sustained. If only I could get some water to refresh my parched throat.

I was wondering how these people did midnight drinks in the dark woods when Cley held out a leather canteen

"Thirsty?"

He sure was being awfully helpful towards me. It sent alarm bells ringing, 'Don't trust any drinks that you haven't been watching' Carol had drilled that lesson into us. Just because we were heroes didn't make us immune to roofies.

"You can have the first drink," I said.

Yes, totally not suspicious for me to say that in this situation, good job Amy.

He shrugged and took a swig. "Best have the rest before it's gone."

Satisfied, I took the offered container and waterfalled a sip. This was not water - it tasted similar to grape juice and had a very mild burn going down. It was actually rather delightful.

The quiet murmurs from across the fire were more awkward now that I had nothing else to distract me. My desire for socialization brought on from my prolonged isolation warred with my desire to be alone, and as always the latter won out. Besides, I had no idea how to repair my damaged reputation here. If I couldn't figure out how to make friends with modern girls my age, then there was little chance in hell I could do so with extradimensional adults from a culture vastly different to my own.

As I was preparing to ask Cley if it was alright to go lie down away from the fire, he spoke up.

"Tell me Amy, do you favor any Westerosi songs?"

I had no idea what that meant.

Play it safe, "I don't know any."

"Truly?"

I didn't know why he was so genuinely surprised. Wasn't it obvious how foreign I was?

"I'm uh, I'm not sure what you mean by Westerosi."

"Ah, but you speak the Common Tongue so well I thought you must've had some experience with the minstrels and court bards of our fair lands. In truth, you speak it better than some of the ninnies around these parts." He chuckled with mirth in his eyes.

"No matter, you'll get your proper introduction to northern ballads yet," he said it downright jovially.

Parther groaned with his palms to his face.

Why do I have an ominous feeling?

"Oh what shall we do with the drunken huntsman?
What shall we do with the drunken huntsman?
What shall we do with the drunken huntsman?
Early in the morning."

Tone deaf. That would be the fairest way to describe his singing. The worst part - he seemed to actually be trying.

"Toss him in the pigpen and roll him over
Toss him in the pigpen and roll him over
Toss him in the pigpen and roll him over
Early in the morning."

He then repeated the chorus, How many verses are there?

"Douse him in the Knife until he's sober
Douse him in the Knife until he's sober
Douse him in the Knife until he's sober
Early in the morning."

The chorus was sung again.

"-Early in the morning."

The last grating "note" cut off.

"So, what do you think of our fine music?" he asked with a smile.

"I- It's um- I've never heard anything like it before."

"Bwahahahaa." One of the men across from us burst out in uproarious laughter. "You hear that? 'Never heard anything like it,' she says. I hear it every day, usually coming out the horses' arses after feeding time!"

More laughter followed.

"Coulda picked a better song, but you'd've butchered that one too," another man spoke.

He appeared younger than the others, his beard wispy and voice pitched as if he had recently finished puberty.

"You should properly educate our guest then, Wyl," Cley spoke. He seemed to take the ribbing in good humor.

"Got a smoother voice than you. Any song'd be better. Alright then. Ahem," Wyl cleared his throat.

"A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered in hair"

I much preferred this song, not the least of which because Wyl could actually carry a tune. The song lyrics were cute too, the kind of silliness from a children's folklore tune. By the end of it, I was smiling for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

When was the last time I smiled like this?

There weren't too many occasions to be joyful these past few months, always healing, always dragging myself along. But now, through the sorrow of being indefinitely separated from my home and lost in foreign lands, I was somehow happier than any other time in recent memory. All because of a simple song.

"Is that more to your liking, my lady?" Wyl asked.

I gave a light nod, "Yeah, That was very nice. I liked the lyrics."

"Just the lyrics?" He asked.

"You have a decent voice too," I admitted.

He preened at my words, looking for all the world like he'd received the best compliment of his life.

Slow down there buddy, you're not that good, I thought as he smirked at Cley.

"Bah, all you can do is recite minstrel's slop," the man next to Wyl said, "I've still yet to hear a proper northern ballad."

Wyl scoffed, "Well, why don't you take the crown out of your purse then, show the lady a 'real northern ballad'?"

"Fine."
The barrel of a man took a deep breath.

"Oh Lun loomed large
In the eye of the Storm"

His baritone contrasted Wyl's tenor voice, more fitting for the contents of the song - a slower ballad recounting Lun, the last of the Giants battling against the Storm King and his host in a losing battle. It was sadder than the one about the girl and the bear, but there was a power behind his voice that conveyed Lun's unflinching spirit in the face of insurmountable odds.

I couldn't say that his or Wyl's singing was necessarily any better than modern auto tuned music, but there was some quality to a lone voice absent any backing tracks that I couldn't place. The artists that came to mind were Johnny Cash and Jeff Buckley. Not that I would compare these two guys to some of the most talented singers of the last century, but there was an earnestness not present in the Gen-Pop that frequently played on the radio.

When the last note ended, I gave him my opinion - if nothing else, then to spite Cley's abysmal performance.

"That one was pretty good too."

"But do you prefer his song or mine?" Wyl asked.

"Well," I thought for a moment, "I think I like yours a little bit more."

"Ha!"

His smug smile could have put that bitch Tattletale to shame.

Wyl and the other man -I learned his name was Crean- devolved into an argument over songs and lyricism. Whereas before, the volume in the camp was quiet, barely above whispers, it was now at a more normal level. Consequently, the mood around the camp picked up, although I still felt a bit out of place. My awkwardness hadn't entirely abated.

The short stocky person on the far left spoke to me. She was a woman after all, or it sounded like it from her voice.

"My lady, can you tell us from which House you hail? I'm not familiar with the nobles of Essos."

Oh great, more questions I don't have the context to parse. Do they think I'm a princess? Is that why they keep calling me 'my lady'?

A spike of dread speared my heart. These people thought I was nobility. If that was the only shield keeping them from tearing me apart…

Cley spoke first, "The Essosi do not have lords and ladies as we understand it. From what I know, their cities are generally ruled by merchant lords."

Well that gave me an out of sorts. "Um, you don't have to call me by any titles, I'm not from Westerosi. Just Amy is fine."

"Westeros," Cley interjected.

"Hmm?"

"The land is called Westeros, the people and the culture are therefore Westerosi."

Oh, right, Lara had called it by its proper name earlier.

"Whereabouts are you from- Amy?" Wyl asked.

He stuttered on my name, but managed to pull through.

"Of all the exotic accents I've heard, yours is the most beautiful," he added.

Craen snorted, "Only exotic accent you've heard is Old Harbin's slur."

It was time to bullshit more generic answers. "I'm from very far away. I doubt you'd know the name if I told you."

Also, exotic accent? My inflection was flatter than an Iowan's from suburbia.

"Even if I cannot pronounce the name of your homeland, I would still like to hear it," Wyl said.

Fine, "I'm from Brockton Bay."

"Brock-ton Bay…" he sounded out the syllables like he was testing out some French word. "Is your homeland filled with beauty?"

No.

"It has its ups and downs, same as any city."

That prompted a discussion about some place called White Harbor. From what I gathered, it was the largest city in northern Westeros. A map would have been helpful right about now.

After a while the conversation petered out, but this time it felt like the natural evolution of running out of things to say rather than delicate tiptoeing around my presence.

Clap

"We'd best rest up," Cley said, "Long day ahead for some of us. Parther and I'll take first watch."

Flames were doused and furs spread as the others got ready to sleep, and I settled in a spot not far from them. The stars were clear overhead, as was the bizarre half-moon devoid of the dark gray craters that should have pockmarked its surface. It gave the alien moon a pearlescent quality outmatching my homeworld's own satellite. If I squinted my eyes, I could have sworn I saw striations, long dark gray lines etched into the lunar surface. It jogged a memory from 6th grade science class about the solar system's extraterrestrial moons, but for the life of me I couldn't remember its name. It was definitely one of Jupiter's or Saturn's though.

Its brightness outshone the surrounding stars and made stargazing more difficult, the haze of the Milky Way -if I was even in the right galaxy- just barely tiptoeing on the edge of visibility. My new framework of understanding made the differences in the night sky clearer to me, returning that sense of wrongness. Although, with my pitiable background in astronomy, I couldn't be sure whether or not I was projecting incongruencies that weren't there. Was it normal for that patch of sky to have such a large collection of bright stars? Were there any red stars visible from Earth? I was pretty damn sure that it wasn't Mars I was seeing.

I fell asleep to thoughts of the celestial heavens both old and new.

FantasticCheese · Jun 11, 2024

Drift 1.6

Amy IV

Horses stank. And they pooped. A lot. I learned all these fun facts on the morning's trek.

At least I didn't have to ride one. That would have been a nightmare in these robes, although I was wearing pants underneath.

In fact, Cley was the only one mounted while the rest of us were trailing behind on foot and leading the animals by their bridles. Everyone except for Wyl -he had been sent off ahead earlier in the morning- traveled in a diamond wedge formation with me at the center.

Message received loud and clear, guys. No running off.

Soon, we reached the first true sign of civilization, an honest-to-goodness dirt trail. No longer were we in pure untamed wilderness. People had walked here. As we traveled along the path, the trail became wider and more obvious while the trees shifted from oaks and pines to the shorter variant of Ironwoods. Timberwoods, I recognized. This grove lacked the giant Ironwoods, but there were many blackened stumps present as we moved southward.

Then, the tree coverage thinned out, and there were buildings - farm houses and homesteads crafted from cobble stone and timber with thatched roofs. We passed many pens housing goats, sheep, and chicken as well as small plots growing a variety of crops. I saw potatoes and yams, cabbages and carrots, leeks and onions, a variety of herbs, and more that I couldn't name. One farm even housed a small orchard of apple trees.

As the density of buildings increased, so did the population. More and more people paused tending to their farms to watch us as we passed. I received the lion's share of looks, mostly of mild interest but for a few who narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

The dirt trail gradually became more packed as we passed into open terrain. There was now an obvious delineation between where the forest ended and the rest began. I could officially say I had left the Wolfswood behind.

Rolling hills and pleasant grassy fields spread before me in a gorgeous vista broken up by pockets of trees that dotted the landscape. Our destination seemed clear. The largest collection of buildings yet lay less than a mile out nestled at the base of one of the taller hills and culminated in stony walls surrounding the tallest structure I had seen yet.

The path became a full road through the town's center, if not paved, then well trampled and wide enough to accommodate four or so riders side by side, or two cars traveling in opposite directions. Or wagons rather, as there were several horse drawn carts moving away from and towards the walled compound.

Upon closer inspection, the keep was rather impressive. Stacked smoke gray stones formed walls a half dozen meters tall that wound along contours of the hillside, interrupted at intervals with steep roofed watchtowers constructed of dark timber. The main gate consisted of an iron portcullis large enough to fit someone twice my height flanked by jutting battlements with crenelated parapets. I couldn't see much inside the walls, but the main building rose above the rest of the towers, seemingly built into the hillside. It was reminiscent of a country ski lodge, with a steep roof to ward off deep snow fall and massive timber beams intersecting to form triangular highlights of dark wood, very similar to the patterns found on Ironwood bark. Overall, it gave the impression of the kind of strongholds seen in romanticized paintings of vikings or norse culture, complete with scrollwork, corbels, and carved finals in the shape of wolves, bears, and other woodland creatures.

That dark charcoal colored wood had become familiar to me over the past week. Ironrath was a fitting name, as it appeared the keep had been built out of Ironwood.

The portcullis was currently raised, and we quickly passed beneath the stony, arched tunnel into a courtyard of sorts. Upon entering the yard, we were greeted by a dozen men carrying the same heraldry carved above the main gate - the silhouette of a young Ironwood tree.

One man strode forward, more finely dressed than the others. Polished metal pauldrons and a chest piece over a black, diamond-patterned gambeson. The man's face was hard lined with a harder frown made all the more imposing by his height and scars - I counted one mark on his forehead, a gash on his right cheek, and a line crossing the right side of his mouth.

"This is her?" He asked.

His sharp voice matched my expectations.

"Aye," Cley responded, "she gave us no trouble on the way."

The hard-lined man nodded curtly. "The rest of you are dismissed to your regular duties."

He turned towards me, "Lord Forrester wishes to speak with you."

Turning on his heel, he quickly strode in the direction of the lodge-like building. Supposing I should follow him, I walked briskly to catch up, Cley matching pace with me.

Our path took us past stables, an archery range, a blacksmith's workshop, and several structures whose purposes I wasn't certain of. The steps ascending to the lodge were steep to the point that I leaned forward to compensate for my sense of balance - not wheelchair friendly.

The main doors were thick Ironwood constructions bearing the symbol I had come to associate with the Forrester name. The entrance led straight into a large open room of ebony plank flooring with a vaulted ceiling. Massive fireplaces to either side of the great hall remained unused, but ashen stains suggested they weren't solely for decoration. Sunlight shone through the latticework of the tall pentagonal windows lining the far wall, bathing the hall in a natural ambiance and providing a well lit backdrop to the room's centerpiece, the throne.

It was more than a mere chair. Carvings of forest scenes adorned the tall-backed seat in the same five sided shape of the windows behind it. It rested heavily upon a raised dais spanning the width of the hall - anyone who sat in that seat would literally be looking down upon the rest of the room's occupants. There were two shorter chairs, one to each side of the main throne.

I could easily imagine a lord presiding over his court from atop the raised seat with an imperious gaze, declaring laws, raising taxes, or whatever it is lords do. I did have to imagine because the seats were currently empty, the dais unoccupied. Besides a few workers cleaning or moving about, the hall was empty.

My expectations of being made to bow before the lord seated on his throne were shattered as we took a side door down another hall past more modestly sized rooms. These people sure enjoyed their forest scenes. Forest ponds, forest glades, forest trees, forest animals - that was about half the extent of the paintings and tapestries hanging on the walls, the other half being portraits presumably of nobles with neutral expressions and fancy clothing.

The grizzled soldier led me past an open door that appeared to lead to a library, or at least that's what I gathered from the shelves stocked with books and scrolls. Inside, a trio of well dressed children were seated around a young man -he looked about college graduate age- and listening to him lecture on some topic. From the snippets I caught, he was teaching basic arithmetic as he swiped beads back and forth on an abacus-like device. Of the four, only the girl had a view out to the hall, and our eyes met for a brief passing moment.

I idly wondered how Lara was doing. If my treatment was any indication, she likely had not met any harm simply for being my acquaintance. Then again, I had apparently been mistaken for some form of nobility which might have provided me greater protections in their culture. If both history and life taught me anything, it's that those who hold the power give little thought to the wellbeing of those who do not.

Our final destination was a moderately sized room at the far end of the hall. I could guess from the writing implements and organized parchment sheets that the room served as a solar or study - even medieval lords had paperwork to attend. Ebony, charcoal, and slate mixed in with rich shades of coffee and walnut brown matched the prevailing color theme I had seen so far, and the architecture agreed with the rest of the keep's design. It was the decor that set the solar apart, and it spoke of a rather distinct character. A bearskin rug complete with taxidermied head complemented the expansive elk's antlers mounted above the fireplace. Swords sheathed in their scabbards were racked on a wooden frame in the back left corner below a shelf holding up what looked like a blackened fragment of driftwood. Looking closer revealed the shaft of an arrow sticking through the middle with its point broken off.

On the back wall, placed squarely between two windows hung a near lifescale wooden panel depicting a man and woman with their arms wrapped around a sextet of who I assumed to be their children - two young men in their late teens or early twenties, one girl around Lara's age, a boy and girl about elementary school aged, and a baby held in the mother's arms. The portrait's subjects weren't exactly smiling, but neither did they wear dour expressions. Instead, the family seemed content to be with one another. The artist had done an exceptional job of portraying the human elements -the way the children jostled for position, the smirk on the young boy's face as he looked knowingly at the girl next to him, the stern face of the man that hid the softness around his eyes- little details that brought the carving to life.

In fact, the artist's work was so incredible that I immediately recognized three of the carving's subjects standing in the room right in front of me. Standing off to the left, the lord's son from yesterday morning stiffened at my approach. I couldn't blame him for that reaction - I would have been uncomfortable in my presence too after what I did.

That likely made the man and woman standing behind the desk the lord and his wife. The lady's sharp eyes pierced like needles, and the lord's lacked most of the kindness present in the portrait. I didn't recognize the balding man to his right.

I surreptitiously gulped. It was time to hear what they had to say and to make my case for why they shouldn't burn me alive or send more hunters after me. I couldn't afford to act on my irritation or fear like I did in the grove - just thinking of Len and what happened raised my hackles. No, I needed to be conservative here to show these people that I wasn't a threat.

The scarred, armorclad man joined the lord's contingent while Cley leaned against the side wall.

The lord gestured to the desk upon which sat a hunk of bread and bowl of salt I hadn't noticed before.

"I invite you into our home as a guest and extend my hospitality for the duration of your stay."

"Um," Don't stutter, "I accept."

I tried not to phrase it as a question, but my inflection went a bit high - I didn't know the proper customs, and this really felt like one of those fancy rituals from a Victorian era historical drama.

He gestured to the food again. "I know the fare might not be to your expectations, but I would like to observe formalities if you please."

Does he want me to- am I supposed to eat the bread?

I was stuck in a loop of indecision. Was I misunderstanding him? Would it be rude if I grabbed the bread? I was gathering up the courage to ask him when Cley spoke up.

"My lord, if I may?"

"Go ahead," he nodded.

"Amy, it is customary in Westeros for visitors to receive guest right, a pact between guest and host that is seen as inviolable. Neither party may harm the other so long as the guest stays within the host's walls, lest they break the sacred covenant and incur the wrath of gods both old and new. And the anger of men both high and low." He pointed to the desk for emphasis. "If the guest and host have not yet shared a meal, it is traditional to serve salt and bread so as to ensure guest right is observed."

"Okay, I understand."

I took the dense chunk of bread and dipped it in the salt. Contrary to my expectations, it stuck wetly - it must have been mixed with water.

I took a bite, Yep, salty.

"Thank you for inviting me into your home," I said in between bites.

The woman's and the lord's eyes softened, and the tension drained a bit from the room. The armored man still scowled.

"Welcome to Ironrath," the lord said, "I am Lord Gregor Forrester," he nodded towards the woman, "My wife, Lady Elissa," then towards the young man, "my son, Rodrik," he finished off with the balding man and the scarred man, "Our castelan, Duncan Tuttle, and our master-at-arms, Ser Royland Degore."

Oh my god, master-at-arms? Armsmaster? I couldn't help but draw the comparison because it was perfect. He shared the same stern-set mouth and penchant for walking around in his armor. The only things missing was the famous armsbeard and halberd.

Lord Gregor spoke, "I should like to make your acquaintance and ascertain the truth of matters, but for now I see you have had a long journey. I would be a poor host if I made offers of hospitality without merit. My wife will escort you to a bath if you like and your guest chambers where you may rest until tonight's meal."

He gave me an indecipherable look. "I understand a certain amount of coercion was used in bringing you here. I apologize for any discomfort that may have brought you. I want you to know that you are not a prisoner within these halls. You may leave at any time so long as you bring no further harm to anyone under my protection," he paused, "But I believe there is much to be gained from mutual cooperation."

I took the dismissal as it was and followed Elissa out of the solar.

Well that went better than expected.

Actually, the meeting exceeded even my most optimistic outlook. I had knocked the lord's son and several of his men unconscious, putting them at risk of serious injury, and then I had run off. Yet still I was apparently forgiven, and they had made a show of ensuring me that I would be safe under their roof.

A part of me remained mistrustful. People can lie. People have lied. Yet, if violating guest right was as frowned upon as they made it seem, and if he made sure there were a half dozen witnesses present, I could probably trust that I would be fine.

"I am told you do not go by any titles." Elissa's words got my attention. "You prefer to be called by your given name?"

"That's right," I nodded.

"Then I welcome you to Ironrath, Amy."

She stopped in front of another door down the hall and beckoned to a female worker. "Narissa, would you fetch a bath for Amy here? A change of clothing wouldn't go amiss either."

"O' course, m'lady."

"And show her to the main guest room after."

"Aye."

Narissa put her hands on her hips and looked over at me.

"Don't ye worry 'bout a thing m'lady. We'll get the hardships o' the road sorted out proper like. Be just a moment with the water."

She had a lovely Irish lilt, or I supposed since we weren't in Ireland, it was a lovely Westerosi lilt.

"You don't have to call me 'my lady'," I said, "Amy is fine."

"Oh don't be like that m'lady. You mustn't be so modest 'ere. We may be a bit backwards compared to what yer familiar with, but we do know how to make our highborn guests welcome."

I didn't bother to correct her assumption.

"The room is yers, I'll be back in just a moment," She hurried off.

When I had first heard the word "bath" my hopes were immediately raised that this place would have indoor plumbing despite the fact I had seen no evidence for it. Then those same hopes were quickly dashed when Narissa said she had to fetch the water. Still, I supposed anything would be worthwhile at this rate. If the water wasn't so damn cold, I would have dunked myself in the streams days ago.

I sat in the sole chair the room held, right next to the tressled window. It was concerning that the bathing room had windows, but I supposed they had to get light in here somehow without artificial sources. I was comforted by the fact that I was on the side of the keep facing the steepest section of the hill, and any potential creeps would have to climb up to window height.

Narissa returned bearing two large buckets steaming with hot water strapped to a pole slung over her back. The girl had muscles.

The contents of the first bucket and most of the second were poured into a slatted wooden tub bound together with iron bars and lined with linen sheets.

Guess they thought of the potential for splinters.

She chatted as she worked, "No proper bathhouse in the keep like other houses 'round the North, but come wintertime, the hot springs'll start up again. Course, if ye were tavelin' the Wolfswood in clothes like that durin' the winter, ye wouldn't've made it all the way 'ere."

She dampened a set of cloths from a nearby drawer.

"Who can say when winter'll come. With the way things've been, maybe this summer'll never end," she snorted, "Ha! Wouldn't that be nice."

I hummed in agreement. If this was the summer temperature, then I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the depths of winter held in store.

Logs shifted as Narissa lit the fireplace with a flint.

"M'lady, ye can disrobe now. Bath's all but ready."

Apparently the women of Westeros were comfortable being naked around each other. I, however, was not from Westeros. I was also not like most women.

"I can clean by myself, it's fine."

That should get her out of here.

"Nonsense, m'lady. I'll take care o' ye right proper."

I needed a better explanation then.

"Where I come from, it's considered, uh- improper for a lady to go unclothed around others."

"Nothin' improper about it m'lady," she insisted.

"Narissa, please leave the room. I'm not comfortable taking off my clothes around others." I left no room for misunderstanding. If my tone was harsher than intended, then it was only because of how discomfited I felt.

She looked taken aback. "I apologize m'lady. O'course I'll let ye alone then."

She turned her head back to me at the doorway. "Holler if ye need anythin'. I'll have a change of clothes ready for ye once yer finished."

Then I was alone.

I sighed, leaning back in the chair. Muddy boots and only marginally cleaner socks were the first item to come off followed by my robes, then my undershirt and pants. Lastly came my undergarments, added to the haphazard pile of clothing.

Lowering myself into the hot tub sent a wave of pure bliss cascading throughout my whole body. Muscles I hadn't been aware of untensed. Aches and stings soothed. Grime floated off my skin as the water did its work. I let out another sigh, long and content.

Nine days without a bath or shower would have made anyone go temporarily crazy, I decided.

After a few minutes of soaking in the warm water, it was time to move on to the next phase.

I used the tools at my disposal for a proper deep cleaning. A bar of soap smelling faintly of herbs slipped and slid over my skin as I washed away the dirt and muck. I had the choice of either a hard comb or a coarse brush for my hair. I started with the comb, a stark white piece with fine teeth.

Taking the time to fully straighten my curls was not an endeavor I underwent often, but I would make an exception for the week-and-a-half-long forest adventure. Clump by clump, knot by knot, the tangles came undone. Gentle application of the comb and copious amounts of water did the trick.

The brush doubled as a method for getting out the most stubborn spots of dirt on my person as well as removing the last of my knots. More soap was applied for good measure, and I finished by rinsing off with the remainder of the bucket dumped over my head.

My hair would frizz up again in no time flat, but the important part was that it was clean. I dried myself off with the linens folded nearby and wrapped one around my waist with another draped over my chest before knocking on the door.

"Narissa, are you there?"

"Aye, m'lady. Are ye needin' the new clothes?"

"Yes. Um, can you-"

"I won't peek."

The door cracked open and the neatly folded bundle was handed over to me.

"Thank you," I said.

"O'course."

I began to dress myself. This was different.

It took some consideration to figure out what went where and in what order it was supposed to be worn. First and foremost, there were no undergarments, or at least not the familiar panties and bra. Instead, I had a shift. The texture was soft enough, but it was a far cry from modern fabrics. I briefly considered donning my dirty undergarments, but I powered past the temptation. Overtop that was a sort of undergown, a one-piece dress with short sleeves and a skirt that went down to my ankles. The final layer was a long-sleeved surcoat of dark green overlaying the dark gray gown - these people sure did love their blacks and grays and dark greens. I slipped into a pair of thick woolen socks that went up past my knees and a sturdy set of leather boots. Lastly, I cinched a belt with pouches around my waist, giving me something resembling a waistline. Because why not, I thought that if I was going to dress like a noble lady, then I might as well commit fully.

Pausing at the door, Almost forgot, I turned back around to fish my phone out of the clothing pile and slipped it into one of the handy belt pouches.

I knocked a second time then opened the door all the way.

"Oh, ye look lovely, m'lady!" Narissa exclaimed, "Be right this way to yer room."

I couldn't help but compare myself to her. Narissa's flaming red locks put my red-brown curls to shame. Not to mention, she was… busty, and she had a lovely smile with a healthy dusting of freckles on her cheeks rather than the peppering present on my face.

She was honestly quite pretty, and I found myself blushing.

Jesus, Amy. You find the first attractive girl and you can't help your damn thoughts, I berrated myself. This wasn't the time or place to think such things.

Except, since when had I thought of anyone besides Vicky in that way? I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Are ye alright?" Narissa put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired. Wasn't watching where I was going."

"I'll say," she accepted my response, "with a journey like what I've heard ye've gone through, can't've been easy."

I hummed ambivalently.

Vicky, I missed her so much. Too many things had been going on that nothing but surviving my ordeal had crossed my mind until Lara had forced me to reevaluate my situation. Even then, I barely had time to consider the implications while running exhausted and then when traveling with Cley and the others.

Now there was nothing else in the way. I might never see my sister again. My beautiful, radiant sister. Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back. I wouldn't let anyone see my weakness here.

We reached my room mercifully quickly - the keep was not terribly long from end to end.

"'Ere we are. I hope it's too yer likin'. Need anythin' else m'lady?"

"No thanks," I tried to keep my voice from warbling, "I just need to lie down for a while."

"If ye need anythin' at all, ye can let any o' the others know, and I'll come fix ye up right quick."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"O'course."

I didn't wait any longer to close the door and collapse onto the bed. The room was nice, I supposed.

I hiccupped. A droplet slid down my nose. The tears that I had been holding back began in earnest. There was nothing else to do, nothing else I could do.

I wished Vicky was here with me, and I hated myself for it, for being so weak that I would pray desperately for her to be separated from everyone and everything else she loved and cared for just to join me in my misery.

And I knew she would have done it in a heartbeat.

I spent the afternoon crying quiet sobs and wishing I was home.

FantasticCheese · Jun 13, 2024

For those of you who like maps, here's roughly what Amy's route looks like so far.

View: https://imgur.com/a/x9cGdFF

gagaking · Jun 14, 2024

Crossposting from SB: So before this gets proven to not be what happens, have an Omake. (Also, open to advice on how to improve it or future omakes).

Hard Iron-Wood:
-------------------------
It was the next morning, and the foreign witch, Amy, had been brought before him. "We've heard about your abilities. I believe we should negotiate." Lord Forrester began.

"Alright, but my healing comes with strict conditions." She started.

"Actually, I'd rather start with acquiring some of the wood from the pillar trees. Would you be capable of getting it for us, in certain shapes for our needs?" He interjected.

'I already have a maester, and I don't feel comfortable subjecting my smallfolk, much less my household, to the powers of a foreigner, especially a witch. Who knows what the costs could be, or if she is truly as skilled as she claims? It would also be a shame to lose her to a scandal from a failed healing.' He thought to himself.

"Wait, really?"

Yes"

She seemed incredulous. "I can help the lame walk, the blind see, the deaf hear, restore lost limbs, cure sicknesses that don't plague the mind, and yet you want me for the hard wood?!

I mean yes, the wood is special. I've never seen wood that strong, and it's a fascinating wonder of nature I have never seen before, that fills me with all sorts of questions, but still!"

"Yet still, I am asking for the wood, not the healing." Lord Forrester replied.

'At least for now, until I know more about her and her magics. I've heard all magic comes with a price, with the more powerful the magic the higher the price. For the miracles she claims she can bring, what would the cost be? No, I'd rather stick with the iron wood. That I know will be reliable, as it will merely be similar to the wood we currently get, but of a better quality.' He mused.

"Well, huh. Good, I guess. But really? No, this is fine." She took a breath. "The wood shouldn't be that hard to get, or have many issues. Let's discuss what you need".

'Why would she have desired to do the healing that much that she only reluctantly gave in? Mayhaps it's as I thought, and she would have gotten some power over those she healed, or some such thing. This was a good decision.'

FantasticCheese · Jun 15, 2024

Drift 1.7

Amy V

I cried until there were no tears left to spill. Until turbulent thoughts were the only thing remaining as I lay there curled into a ball, memories treasured and reviled, vague worries of the future, and the troubles of the present. Eventually, even thought fled and my existence was empty. Dull, emotionless stupor. Neither joyful nor miserable.

Life went on without me, time passing without regard for my feelings.

Knock knock

Dim awareness of the outside world creeped back into me, the unwanted stepchild I wished I could shove out the door with a suitcase in hand. Telling whoever it was to fuck off, however, would not be a winning move.

"Dinner is ready, Amy."

Not Narissa. Not Lady Elissa. I didn't recognize the speaker, but it was curious that they used my name. She sounded young.

Uncurling myself took effort, not physically, but my brain rebelled against taking any action that wasn't sitting as an unmoving rock. My faculties moved at the pace of molasses with an invisible, intangible weight dragging down my every step.

Food was not a welcome prospect right now, but I opened the door anyways - secluding myself in the princess' tower would do me no favors with the Forresters.

The girl from the library greeted me on the other side. More than that, she was an older version of the girl from the family portrait. Brown hair and green eyes further cemented the resemblance to Rodrik and Lady Elissa. Her dress was well embroidered, another clear signifier that she was the lord's daughter.

I had noticed a clear dichotomy of clothing quality between the nobles and commoners. Under different circumstances, I would be more upset at the wealth inequality and the whole stupid system of highborn and lowborn, but I'd had other concerns, and at the moment I couldn't muster up anything beyond apathy. I'd care later when I didn't feel like shit.

"Would it be your preference to sup alone? I can call someone to bring your meal to your room if you'd like."

Doubtless, my puffy eyes and wet cheeks were dead giveaways of my afternoon crying session.

"That's alright," I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, "I'm fine to eat with you all tonight."

She took that at face value. "Shall we go together then? I'm Talia, it's very nice to meet you, Amy. "

I took her outstretched hand, but instead of initiating a handshake, she began to lead me down the corridor.

Currently in a growth spurt. Additional calcium is required for optimal growth, my power supplied me with information regarding her health and condition.

"It's nice to meet you too, Talia."

"Don't let my brother Ethan pester you too much. Sometimes I feel his tact could use some training to match his wit." She looked aside at me. "If he bothers you overmuch, don't feel afraid to tell him to knock it off."

Well developed vocal cords. Fine control. Does she sing regularly?

"Um- I'll keep that in mind."

"I do hope you don't mind my excitedness," she apologized, "We so rarely receive guests, especially ones as interesting as you."

"Thank you?"

Light muscle development in the upper body. Concentrated most strongly in the back and core. Indicative of some kind of training? I recalled past patients - this didn't feel like traditional weight training. It was more reminiscent of…

Swimming maybe? No, that didn't feel right, yoga?

I'd figure it out later. We'd arrived at the main hall already.

"We would very much enjoy it if you ate with us." Talia led me to the table closest to the dais, and I followed.

Multiple faces were recognizable to me, Lord Gregor, Lady Elissa, Rodrik, the Armsmaster lookalike, and baldy. I struggled for a moment to remember their names, Royland and Duncan, that's right. There were others I hadn't yet met.

Examining Talia with my powers had oddly put me in a better mood. Better, but still not good. I took the offered seat between Talia and Lady Elissa, the latter buffering me from Lord Gregor and the rest of the table, for which I was grateful. The only occupants to my left were Talia herself, a grinning boy I was betting was Ethan, and a younger child.

I thought it was a bit awkward that I had been placed between Elissa and her children, kind of like I was a trophy on display. As a guest -and a foreign one at that- seating me at the main table next to the lord's children and wife would probably be seen as a position of honor, a signifier for my status and importance.

Instead it made me supremely uncomfortable. Though, would I have been less tense seated anywhere else in the hall? Unlikely.

Hopefully, the evidence of my tears wasn't easily visible to everyone here, but that might have been overly optimistic. Of the several dozen or so people seated and supping, more than a few shot curious glances my way.

Their combined gaze pressed down on me, but I did my best to ignore it and focus on other things. Like the food. I wasn't hungry earlier, and I still wasn't now, but if nothing else it could distract me for a while.

The servers had laid out the meal buffet style, a mixture of trout and chicken roasted in garlic and savory spices, lighter breads and baked potatoes paired with a creamy cheese dip and chopped leeks, a selection of berries more plump and juicy than those I had foraged, and pitchers of a sweetly smelling beverage. It was a minor feast.

The combination of aromas and a rumbling stomach overcame my melancholy, so I loaded up my plate with the offerings.

As I ate, more people filtered into the hall, filling it to bursting. With them came a riot of noise, uproarious laughter, slamming of tankards, dozens of conversations overlapping. Closing my eyes and letting the sound wash over me, I could almost convince myself I was attending a banquet back home, one of those fundraising events I got dragged to twice a year. I opened my eyes and returned to cold reality.

Oh well, the drinks were good. I washed down my meal with a sweet cup of juice flavored with blackberries. It burned more on the way down than what Cley had shared with me.

"-Amy."

"Huh?" I looked at Talia, "Sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if you were enjoying the food so far."

"Yes, thank you. It's very good."

"You should thank the cooks," the grinning boy winked at me, "they might just give you something sweet for your troubles."

"He thinks himself more charming than he is," Talia wore an exasperated expression.

"Ethan," the boy grinned, "welcome to Ironrath, Amy."

"Uh- Thanks."

My conversational skills were on full display.

He continued unperturbed, "Glad to see you like our fare. What sorts of foods do the people of your homeland eat?"

"Actually, we have potatoes and chicken and all the same foods you have here."

Given the similarities in species, language, and now diet, I was beginning to lean towards the alternate Earth theory. It was hard to believe that all of it could have evolved on an alien world in a way that so coincidentally matched my own.

"Truly? They have potatoes where you're from? I thought that was a strictly Northern crop." he hummed, "There must be something exotic you can share with us."

Exotic. Why is it always exotic with these people? Wait, I bet they don't have- "Pizza."

"Pete-za?"

"P-I-Z-Z-A, pizza. You spread cheese and tomato sauce on bread dough with whatever toppings you want then bake it in an oven. It's really good. I'll show you guys how to make it sometime. Er- I'm not the best chef though, so keep that in mind."

What was the harm in a little cultural exchange? I'd introduce the best American dishes to Westeros yet.

"Tomato sauce? I'm not sure I've heard of that," Talia said.

"Can't say I have either," Ethan agreed.

"Tomato sauce. It's made from tomatoes, like the plant?"

Brother and sister shared a glance.

"It might be a mistranslation," she said, "What does a tomato look and taste like?"

"Ummm-" I paused to think of a good description, "Tomatoes come in a variety of colors, but they're normally bright red. They have skin like a bell pepper or a persimmon and gooey when you bite into one. The taste is closer to a vegetable than a fruit, kind of a balance between acidity and sweetness." I wracked my brain for more comparisons. "Oh! It's similarly sized to an apple. At least the ones you use for pizza sauce are," I finished.

Talia had a frown of concentration on her face while Ethan looked puzzled.

Talia spoke first, "I've heard of bell peppers."

"It's Dornish," Ethan clarified.

Like that helped me understand at all. I took another sip of my drink.

Elissa dropped her conversation with her husband to join us. "Persimmons are grown deep in the Reach, south of Highgarden." She tapped her chin in thought. "I've tried all kinds of Dornish peppers, including your bell peppers. But as for your tomato, I've not a clue. Sorry to say, I'm not it's grown in any of the Seven Kingdoms."

There went my dreams of introducing modern civilization's greatest achievement to an entirely new world.

"That's alright," I said dejectedly.

"But pizza does sound like a fascinating dish." Ethan didn't sound like he was cheering me up, more like he was just that intrigued by foreign cuisine. "Are there any others that you're partial to? Perhaps we can find ingredients that we do have."

I drained the rest of my cup, trying to recall any dishes that seemed remotely feasible. "Well-"

Our foodie conversation continued on, and I began to form an image of Westeros in my head based solely on the crops grown and animals raised in each region.

Being from the North, my hosts had a great deal to say about its cuisine and how it related to their way of life. Apparently, we were experiencing unseasonably warm weather right now, allowing for extended growing periods of crops that otherwise wouldn't have survived. Come winter though, the landscape would be inhospitable, and they claimed people relied on preserved food stocks or the hardiest crops and game.

At one point, the toddler -I learned his name was Ryon- told us his favorite foods. Butternut squash and sweet cakes. Unfortunately for the boy, sugar was an expensive import for the North.

Gourds, squashes, and highland fruits abounded in the mountainous Vale. Many folk raised goats and sheep in greater abundance than in the North.

All manner of fresh water fish could be found swimming the myriad currents of the Riverlands, so much so that the Lord Paramount took the trout as his heraldry. The riven sodden region was fertile and south enough to support grains like wheat, oats, and barley in greater quantities than its northern neighbor.

Further south were the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and the Crownlands, and although they each had their distinct culinary footprints, the three regions shared similar enough climates to support most of the same crops. There were differences in what game could be hunted, but that was of less interest to me.

Dorne was described to me as the southernmost boot of Westeros, a land of arid desert, and it was at this point I gave up on trying to match Westeros to any of Earth Bet's continents. I probably shouldn't have tried in the first place when the two worlds didn't share the same moon. Dornish farmers grew varieties of peppers in the summer and many species of citrus fruits in the winter. I counted Oranges, lemons, nectarines, and grapefruits among others. No tomatoes.

The real standout however, the uncontested breadbasket of the entire continent, more than matching the combined output of the other six kingdoms through sheer volume was the Reach. Waves of grains, corn, and beans were harvested, stored, and shipped everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. A massive assortment of fruits including strawberries, grapes, figs, apricots, melons, peaches, pears, and plums did not make an exhaustive list. The Reach thrived with olive groves, vineyards, cattle ranchers and pig raisers. You name it, they had it.

Not gonna lie, that place sounds waaay better than this dump, I didn't much look forward to the cold.

"-sherbet, a combination of cream and pureed fruit, chilled with ice." Lady Elissa finished describing ice cream.

"We have something similar to that too, but we call it ice cream. I don't think it would make for a very good winter dessert," I giggled.

I had no idea where my sour mood had gone. Somehow, cataloging the crops and cuisine of Westeros had brought me such simple joy. Despite the cultural divide and despite the tenuous circumstances leading up to this, socialization had never been this easy for me before, my self consciousness fleeing as the night progressed.

"No," she smiled back, "it's very much a southern summer treat."

I finished off my second cup. "Well, it wouldn't have been so bad this morning. Felt hot enough on the way here."

"Folks are calling it summer's last dying heat," Ethan shrugged, "It's been the longest summer on record, but winter always comes."

"What would you know of winter, my summer child?" Elissa playfully chided her son.

"I was born in winter, mother." He spoke in such an innocent tone that it wrapped right back around to being smug.

Talia rolled her eyes.

"Mhm, I'm certain you have such vivid memories of the fierce snows," his mother shot back.

Why would he not remember winter? He's definitely old enough…

Something about their wording niggled at my mind. Westerosi had a strange way of referring to the seasons, and I couldn't help but feel that I had forgotten some important piece of context.

I reached to refill my cup, but Elissa put her hand on mine.

"I don't wish to overreach, Amy, but it may be important to keep a level head tonight."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"This would be your third cup, no? I have an eye for people's tolerances, and I do believe that you may be approaching your limit."

Oh fuck, "Is- is this alcoholic." I pointed at the pitcher.

"Strongwine, dear. Did you not know?" She rested a hand on my shoulder.

A sudden bout of lightheadedness washed over me, making me sway in her arms.

"I- um, no. I didn't. Wh- why didn't you tell me?"

Two cups. Carol always did say it lowered your inhibitions. I thought it was funny how holding a conversation seemed easier.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I didn't realize you weren't aware. Here," she reached for a separate pitcher near Ryon's side of the table, "milk to cut the wine. And another loaf wouldn't hurt either." Elissa set a hunk of bread on my plate.

My power supplied several methods for modifying bacteria that could synthesize alcohol degrading enzymes. Each idea went ignored as I wolfed the bread and downed the milk Elissa poured for me.

"We can postpone until the morning," she spoke quietly underneath the hall's clamor.

I thought about it. I had wanted to go into this with my best foot forward, ready to think as clearly and logically as I was able, but this threw a wrench in those plans. Maybe I should have delayed until morning, but I wanted to get this over with, damnit. Waiting would do no good when I needed to figure out where things stood as soon as possible.

"No. No, that's alright, just um- just give me a bit of time."

"Of course," she reassured.

I let my liver do its work while I sat motionless at the table. Ethan and Talia must have sensed the shift in my mood, because they left me to my own devices.

Plates were cleared and cups drained. Conversations petered out, and people filtered out of the great hall. Time was running short, and the meeting drew near.

I seemed to be fine. There was no slurring of speech, and the room didn't spin anymore, but how would I know if I was in the right headspace? Drunks sometimes didn't realize just how emotional or irrational they were behaving while under the influence. Did I really want to risk screwing this up?

It would be so very easy to fix with just a few modifications to the ribosomes of any common bacteria to make my problem go away.

No.

I wouldn't break my rules, not for this. The consequences of a single mistake could be catastrophic. I had no intention of bringing the germs in Guns, Germs, and Steel to Westeros. It was kill order worthy levels of potential disaster, and worse, it was villainous to mess around with powers like that.

Shaping plants was one thing, changing bacterial structures was on an entirely different level.

I'll have to go into this sober, errr drunk.

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation at my hosts. They didn't think to tell me anything earlier? I knew it probably didn't even register to them, being from a culture where the drinking age was irresponsibly low, for Christ's sake, the kids were drinking it too. At least theirs had seemed watered down compared to what I imbibed.

The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. Alcohol's dangerous for developing brains. Doesn't Elissa care about her own children's health?

And what a fool I'd been. How could I not have realized sooner what I was putting into my own body? Fuck!

Flushed cheeks heated my head into a daze, the frustration beating a drum in my temple. I thought our conversation had been pleasant, but it was nothing more than a fake reprieve from the misery, returned now greater than before. I wanted out of here. Out of this room. Out of this world.

I can't do this tonight, the thought struck clarity into me like a gong ringing in an enclosed space. There was no out, and I couldn't go into delicate discussions with these emotions raging inside of me.

"Elissa."

"Yes, Amy?"

"I changed my mind. I can't do this, not right now." I bit back the first acidic retort that came to my mind. "Can we wait until tomorrow?"

"Of course."

She laid a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched back.

She withdrew, "I think it's time I retired for the evening," her mouth wavered, "Good night, Amy."

All I managed was a vague grunt. I didn't spare pleasantries with the kids before heading off.

Not waiting for an escort, I retraced the path back to my room and sat gingerly on my mattress. Rubbing my temples did little for the budding migraine.

I sighed, I always find a way to fuck it all up.

Sachertorte · Jun 16, 2024

SHAPER'S DIARY ENTRY #1

First time writing a diary. So the first thing that I'm going to say is that even after we are permanently separated from her home world (dubbed Earth Bet by her species), SHE. IS. STILL. STAGNATING!

A while ago, I was having high hope for her the moment she started altering the native plant life starting from that tree back in the forest, which she had made a wonderful beacon of. At that point, I started to think that this was it. The moment I've been waiting! The day she finally embrace her true destiny and become the greatest artist known to all life in existence, just like all of my previous hosts from eons ago! This was it!

Oh, how fucking wrong I was. Especially, and I mean, ESPECIALLY, after she unknowingly drank that drinking utensil full of wine thanks to that lady!

She had the opportunity to take the easy path. Have the bacterial cells within her own body be modified to combat those ethanol molecules within, turn the dishes she's eating so that they have anti-alcoholic properties in them, ANYTHING! But nooooooooo, she decided that, "nOoOOOo, thIs iS gOiNg AgAiNSt wHaT CaRoL aNd ThE uNwRitTeN RuLes hAd TaUgHT mE! PoOr mE!"

BOO FUCKING HOO!

By The Warrior, I HOPE THAT WENCH OF [PHOTONIC ENGINE]'S HOST NAMED CAROL "PISSY FACE" DALLON GET STRUCK BY LIGHTNING OR SOMETHING! IF IT HAVEN'T BEEN FOR HER, MY HOST WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO SPREAD HER WINGS FREELY COMPARED TO [WARBRINGER]'S HOST, THAT STAGNATING LIZARD BRAIN CALLED LUNG!

....

All I ever wanted is to see arts and not....this hell.

End. Diary. Entry.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Summary: Shaper letting her frustration on her host's self-stagnation and irrational fear out on her interdimensional diary, because knowing Shaper, she'll probably inherit Panpan's irritation as time goes by.

Hearts of Iron (ASOIAF/Worm)

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The Twilight of Boredom

SHAPER'S DIARY ENTRY #1

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Hearts of Iron (ASOIAF/Worm)

The Twilight of Boredom

SHAPER'S DIARY ENTRY #1​

SHAPER'S DIARY ENTRY #1