Capítulo 12: Chapter 10 - Dead Woods
A gentle breeze blew across the cape, carrying the gentle songs of birds, and soft steps of beasts, in the woodlands.
The ground had a cautious crunch, despite the heavy steps falling upon them.
Tall redwoods, with trunks as thick as four trees a quarter their size, reaching over a hundred feet tall, with canopies thick enough to cloud out the sun, stood strong.
A giant shadow walked through those woods, easily ten feet tall, its body thick as a boulder, yet, its steps could rarely be heard.
Like a weightless ghost, it walked, there would be no noise, if not for its soft hum, a song with no words, the birds sitting on its shoulders, its own private crowd, enjoying that melodic vibration.
A great cottage house inside the woods hid just under an overhung patch of earth, that being the ceiling, with the rest dug into the ground.
There were no windows, just port holes, smoke that smelled of charcoal and seasonings, filtering out of the chimney above, diffusing everywhere.
The huge shadow stopped, and the birds riding its shoulders stopped their songs, flying off, the forest was loud, as everything ran away.
Yet, the shadow remained.
Its voice was like rolling waves, on a warm spring evening, "Hello."
A figure several feet shorter stood at the door.
"I brought your favorite." He looked up at the big fella, and smiled slightly, "Mind if I come in?"
The shadow had a big smile, that would have horrified anyone else into a catatonic state, given his size and his piercing hazel eyes, but not this small figure, "Hello."
The shadow, Rodrick, opened the door and let Argo in.
It was a cozy place, with moss in certain places, but overall, very clean, and very tidy, more so than some places in the estate.
The fireplace crackled, he looked over.
The scent of Bear Belly filled the air, it was a long cooking time, but it was Rodrick's favorite, and he was more than willing to wait, "Hello?"
"He won't be able to come. Things are dire at the estate. But he's coming next year, even if Karlan is burning down." Argo took off his coat and put it on the coat rack, which was for people his height.
Rodrick turned around, and picked up a cleaver that was unnaturally large, but looked small in his hands, "Hello."
"Nosy is more like it. Her hiding skills are terrible too. But I couldn't shake her tracking." Argo sat in the chair that was clearly built specifically for him, amongst the other chairs, which were much larger, "It's almost time."
Illusion magic could only fool the eyes.
Rodrick's cleaver cut with a bang.
It was old now, very old, and never cleaned.
Disgusting as it was, Rodrick refused to clean or sharpen it, keeping it exactly as it was.
Argo turned a blind eye.
He looked instead at the old very well taken care of, but clearly ancient, portrait on the wall over the fireplace.
It was dry and devoid of a single spec of dust.
The painting was amateurish at best, but, it was beloved.
What looked like a woman, and a man, as well as a great stone egg in the center, and several smaller children, around it.
A family portrait.
His, was blood that was mostly human, mixed with troll and orcish ancestry, sharing a common ancestor with one of those ancient races.
In this world, where the Ancient Races were no longer here, their descendants were found amongst the humans, with their blood mixed, and slight differences apparent in latent abilities, physicality, and talents.
Gnomes, Pixies, Giants, Trolls, Orcs, Elves, Dwarves, Were-people, Mermen, in the time before records of human interaction, these and more walked the earth.
Until humanity came, blessed by the Goddess of Fertility and Love.
The races loved them, and they loved the races, and over time, the human heart won.
There was no cataclysmic war, to end all wars.
They simply faded out, as the humans mingled with them, and their children became more human, after each generation, leaving behind now, only whispers of their legacy.
Or so the stories were told.
He wasn't so sure about it all, but, it was a story long since told, that no one could possibly know now.
Though, people like Rodrick, who shared such a close semblance, were very rare, and highly sought after, the human heart, was not solely love, anymore.
Not like those fairy tales.
"Hello." He put his hand on a giant chair, and brought it over.
Argo closed his eyes, taking a sip.
Rodrick stayed looking at him, he could feel his eyes burning a hole into him.
Argo shook his head, "..Go on then."
Rodrick walked over to the door, opened it, and fished out a small figure, five foot something, from seemingly thin air, "Hello."
Her face was red, she looked at Argo.
He gave her a quiet sidelong look, like a child being scolded by her father, until he spoke, as she was being put down on her own chair, "He's asking for your name."
Rodrick had extra chairs, for visitors, always ready.
"Ah, my name is Constance Evergreen. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." Constance looked up at Rodrick, who still held a massive cleaver in his hand.
He took her tiny hand, into his other hand, and lowered his head, her eyes flickered, for a moment, and she calmed down instantly.
His head touched her hand, and then he straightened up, and using the cleaver, carved a 'C', into the chair, "Hello."
Argo's seat had an A, and Stephan's had an S.
She looked at Argo.
He set down his cup.
"Your gentle."
Argo looked down at his cup, and his reflection in it.
He had known she would follow him, but he couldn't stop her, since he didn't know how she was tracking him so accurately, and hadn't found what she was using if anything, either.
Rodrick wasn't allowed to be alone on this day of the year, Sin among the highest level, were family with one another.
And family didn't let each other go through days like these alone.
"He likes you."
He idly wondered what allowed her to track him so perfectly, through the southern woodlands, he had his own illusion magic cast through items, and he had been learning for years, how to move without leaving a trace, like a deer or a doe might.
If he was right behind someone, they wouldn't know until he spoke.
Even Rodrick couldn't tell he was in front of his house, until he was right in front of him.
He had brought a gift, as well, hidden in his clothes, but, that was for later.
"How can you understand him?" Constance spoke, as she looked at Rodrick, who was arm deep in what she could only assume was a giant bear, though it was grizzled now on his counter, which was bigger than a butchers table.
"We could say nothing, and speak hours into seconds." Argo looked at the table, he had cleaned it recently, the smell of lavender, was still fresh, "When you trust someone with everything, it just happens. No magic or anything. Try it. Without those eyes."
He had seen her being worried about Rodrick, until she had flickered on and off those eyes, the power bestowed upon her as the hero.
It was a cheat of sorts, but a necessary one, to be able to survive and not become a monster, fooled by others or brainwashed, though, he was certain there was a way around it somewhere, but Rodrick wasn't using it.
He wore his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse.
"So, I just think something, and if I trust the other person, they'll just know?" Constance had a distrusting look on her face like she was talking to a scammer.
He shrugged, grabbing his cup, to finish what was left, "It's about comfort. When you know someone for a long time, and trust, or hate them enough. You tend to be able to read them. Have you ever heard the Bishop say something, and been able to imagine exactly what she looked like saying it, her mannerisms, her movements, just from the tone of her voice?"
Constance paused for a second.
When the Bishop scolded the acolytes, she could see her face, and the exact way her head always tilted, as well as her crossed arms, and her finger tapping her arm, even how many times, based off the tone and changes of vibe.
Her brows furrowed.
But that wasn't mind reading, that was just pattern recognition.
"The eyes are the windows to the soul, or so they say."
"Hello." Constance turned around, she had been so deep in her own head about the mind reading, that she failed to notice the twelve-foot Rodrick behind her, he gave her a mug on a little plate.
"She's a child of the church. They don't believe in that." Argo raised his cup politely, and Rodrick grabbed it, walking back to the kitchen.
"Believe what?" Constance looked at him suspiciously, as the scent of the Bear Belly was starting to waft in, a strong smell of redwood pleasingly diffused into the living room.
"The idea that everything has a Spirit. And that a dog can communicate as fervently and clearly, as a human can."
Her nose scrunched up, "Dogs can't talk."
"Can't they?" Argo glanced down the way, it was an open area, from the living room one could see the dining room, the fireplace, the kitchen, and a long hallway, with several doors, "Dogs and wolves have walked beside us for thousands of years. With just a look, they know to attack or stay low. They read body language, and respond in kind."
She stayed staring at him.
Mind reading, and talking dogs.
But, she soaked up the knowledge like a sponge, determined to put it to the test, she spoke again, "Then, why does he keep saying 'Hello', if he doesn't need to speak, to talk?"
"That's for you. So you know where he is from time to time when he wants to say something or interject since it's rude to have conversations others don't know about. This is his home. And those are his rules." Argo took the mug that Rodrick passed him and exchanged a short thank you.
Constance, couldn't believe it.
She felt like she was having one pulled over on her, "I am not a child."
"Hello…"
She turned to him, she didn't need Argo to translate that.
Argo laughed, and she turned to stare at him, her face burning, "I am not a child!"
"Maybe. Maybe not. But you've got a lot to learn. For example, do you know why these woods aren't inhabited by people, or cut down to build farms?" He looked out of the window, through his peripheral vision, Rodrick didn't bother more than a glance.
Constance looked over too, but didn't speak.
She hadn't thought about it.
Argo smiled a little, it never got old, watching them.
One of the few Ancient Races that had no human reproduction, and no mortal could possibly hope to copulate with.
Purebred ancients.
Woodland Spirits.
Ethereal creatures of every shade and hue of green danced among the verdant canopy above, leaving trails of sparkling iridescence.
They blessed the Red Woods, their bodies, and their tie to the world, and in turn, the Red Woods shared their nutrients with the moss that covered the stones as well as the flora that littered the forest floor, "They protect their homes from uninvited guests."
Rodrick's ancestry was strong enough, that the spirits felt secure enough to show themselves in front of Argo and Constance, as well.
Normally, such a sight, was a once in a lifetime event, for the random passer-by, that had somehow stumbled into this immortal parade of fanciful forms, but here, it was a nightly occurrence.
"Uninvited guests… meaning me?"
"Mm," Argo sipped on his drink, "Follow the path."
"Path?" Constance felt a very perverted set of eyes staring at her, roving over her body as if she was being licked, it was disgusting, but it wasn't a physical feeling, but one that was far deeper, and far more molesting.
It wasn't Argo, or Rodrick.
The Spirits had begun to take notice of her.
They were inspecting her.
"What path?" Constance stood up and started half walking towards the door, while Argo kept sipping his drink, urgency began rising in her voice, as the feeling grew, "Argo? Argo! Argo what path!?! ARGO!"
The Spirits were dancing downwards and soon would surround the cottage.
Her pupils shrank, she couldn't wait any longer.
She kicked dirt, running as fast as she could in any direction.
Rodrick looked at Argo with a slightly raised brow.
Argo denied him the look and shrugged.
"She's the one who followed me."
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Wordlit_Sonata
Wordlit_Sonata I hope everyone is having a great evening. The weekend is upon us, it's rather cold here, so I can't step out, but if you can, do take some air for me.
Have a merry weekend, and,
Thank you for the support,
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