“Wait, that was a bear?” Yig asked, lowering Icarus slightly.

  The man who had spoken was the tallest of the three in black. He’d removed the cloth from his face and pushed back his hood. He had jet-black hair and skeptical eyes that looked at Yig as if his very existence were an offense.

  “It used to be. But if I were you, I’d answer our question before asking another.”

  “Oh, right. I’m traveling—trying to make it to Moonset.”

  “Sure. But this isn’t the best way through. You’d be better off following a path.”

  “I was trying to follow one,” Yig replied honestly. “But it… ended.”

  The man’s expression shifted to mild confusion tinged with frustration. “Where are you from?”

  Yig hesitated, unsure.

  The man rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Fine, don’t trust us. We’re not losing anything.”

  He motioned to his allies to leave.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Okay, I’m sorry. Please—just show me the way, if you can.”

  The man paused, signaling for them to stop. “All right. So where are you from?”

  “Chestnut Town.”

  The strangers snickered. “Right. That explains a lot.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, excuse us if we seem rude, but your residents don’t exactly get out much.”

  Yig’s eye twitched. He’d hoped that outside of Chestnut Town, he’d be seen as his own person. “Oh yeah? Well, I did leave! Don’t I get some credit for that?!”

  The man shrugged. “If you think so. But more than anything, it explains your ignorance.”

  “Ignorance?!”

  He sighed. “Do you want me to show you the way or not?”

  Yig exhaled sharply. “Yes... please,” he muttered, cheeks puffed.

  As they turned to leave, Yig glanced back at the bear’s body. He reached toward it—but the man slapped his hand away.

  “Wha—? Don’t slap my hand,” Yig barked.

  “You can’t touch it. The blood is toxic.”

  Poisonous? Yig thought. Could that mean...

  He drew Icarus from its scabbard and examined the tip. Sure enough, it was stained purple.

  “Yeah, that’s not great,” the tall man said, eyeing the cyan blade. “You can’t keep it like that. Hand it over—we’ll clean it for you.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Yig tightened his grip, hesitant—but finally handed it over. Still, he kept a watchful eye. This guy had been kind of rude.

  “What’s your name?” Yig asked as the man began wrapping the sword, pulling bandages seemingly from thin air.

  “How’re you doing that?” Yig asked.

  “You don’t have a name?”

  “Yig,” he said with a huff.

  “Right, well... follow us, Yig.”

  “Wait, don’t I get your name?”

  “You might.”

  The strangers led Yig through the woods, squeezing through narrow spaces and past decorated trees. Eventually, they arrived at a lively forest village. The wooden houses were delicately crafted—each more a work of art than simple shelter. Subtle streams of bright blue water flowed through intricately carved wooden statues, as elegant as the homes themselves. The villagers moved with cheerful purpose, tending farms and brushing the wooden sculptures with care.

  By a stream, a young boy sat quietly, nudging stones in the water. As Yig passed, he saw the boy arranging them into intricate patterns. To Yig, it looked like a chore—but to the boy, it seemed like a game. He wasn’t playing like any child Yig had ever seen.

  Instead, his movements were patient—like a man in the later stages of life indulging in a hobby to pass the time. Confused by this, Yig suddenly became far more aware of the silence in the village. So peaceful... but how? Denial? Ignorance? Sorrow? What kind of people could find such calm while surrounded by a danger like those ravenous “bears”?

  They walked a path of soft sand and stone that led to the most immaculate building in the village. Though its design wasn’t vastly superior, there was only so much any builder could do to enhance the village’s already stunning architecture. Around the base of the building were rows of perfectly spherical bushes, blooming with pastel violet and yellow flowers.

  Inside was a long wooden corridor, at the end of which sat an old man in black robes at a blocky desk. He had a long, narrow beard that seemed to get in the way of his work—he’d thrown it over his shoulder. His eyebrows were thick and bushy, almost like two extra beards growing from his forehead. Yig thought they could probably use a trim.

  Surrounding the man were a glass of wine, a clay statue, and a paper flower. As they approached, he continued sketching patterns into a bed of sand that rested on a rectangular wooden plate, using a patterned clay stick.

  A bold red carpet led up to him, soft enough to muffle their footsteps into faint vibrations through the floor. With no furniture in sight, Yig was instructed to sit on the ground. His guides stood nearby, watchful—monitoring his movements and mannerisms. He might have found that insulting, if he weren’t doing the same to them.

  “You’re in the presence of the Chief. You shall be respectful,” said the black-haired stranger firmly.

  “Tut-tut-tut,” the Chief said, still focused on his artwork. “How do we know that wasn’t his intention, Pervoick? Perhaps we’ve now offended him.”

  The man with black hair—now revealed to be Pervoick—rolled his eyes. “I apologize.”

  Yig tried not to smile at his embarrassment. He’d never been one to quietly accept a cold shoulder. If someone had a problem, he preferred they say so he could deal with it—though Mona would usually tell him off afterward.

  The Chief smiled too, though he was better at hiding it. “Say, fine friends of mine, do you think you could give me a moment with this young man?” He gestured to Yig with his clay tool, looking up from his desk for the first time since they’d entered. He was an old man—perhaps sixty—with gray hair flowing from beneath his ears and down his chin.

  Everyone around the Chief seemed more than a little surprised but obeyed, escorting themselves from the building—except for the stubborn Pervoick, who stood firmly behind Yig. The Chief looked disappointed, though not surprised, and chose to let him be.

  “Hello,” the Chief said with a touch of humor.

  Yig looked around before answering. “Hello?”

  “Don’t be so nervous. Look around. Do you see any reason to be nervous?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Can I ask why you might feel that way?”

  “You are aware there are horribly aggressive bears outside your village, right?”

  “Ahhh… I suppose that’s a fair reason to be suspicious. But did you maybe consider we’re calm because we’re confident?”

  Yig paused, then looked over his shoulder once more, locking eyes with Pervoick’s irritated glare.

  “Why is he still here?”

  “Though he’s disobedient, he may as well stay. I’d like to ask you about that sword of yours—and he’s the one holding it.”