Chương 69: Chapter 43: Home – Part I

I leave the bandit camp without looking back. The road finds me again a short while later, winding south through gently rolling hills where the afternoon sun casts long shadows across fields of wild grass swaying lazily beneath the breeze. The battle already feels strangely distant, as though it belongs to another road walked by another man.

My knuckles still ache where skin split against the bandit leader's face, and every now and then I catch myself flexing stiff fingers around the staff before forcing them to relax again. The Hollowmane cub follows several paces behind. It has not once tried to brush against my leg since we left the clearing. Each time I glance over my shoulder, it stops walking altogether, pretending to inspect a tuft of grass or sniff at an old tree stump until I continue moving again.

Only then do I hear its soft paws resume their careful rhythm along the road. I wish I knew whether it feared me or simply no longer trusted me. The thought lingers far longer than I would like. As the afternoon slowly gives way to evening, I leave the road long enough to find a small clearing where I remember spending the night on my journey north. The place has changed little in the passing days.

Moss still carpets the stones lining the water's edge, while the same weathered oak spreads its broad limbs above the clearing as though patiently waiting for travelers to return. The cub circles the campsite twice before finally settling near the fire while I gather enough fallen branches to last the night. Neither of us has much energy left for anything beyond eating.

Martha's bread, though no longer warm, proves just as welcome as it had the previous morning, and the smoked meat survives the journey considerably better than I expected. The cub eyes my supper with obvious interest. I tear away the last piece of bread and toss it toward the opposite side of the fire. It catches the morsel before it ever reaches the ground.

"So, you can hunt." The cub lifts its head proudly. A heartbeat later, it discovers that bread requires considerably less hunting than chewing and proceeds to wrestle stubbornly with the crust for several determined minutes before finally swallowing the last piece whole. I shake my head.

"I'll count that as a victory." Darkness settles quietly around us. The stream murmurs softly somewhere beyond the firelight while insects begin their evening chorus beneath the surrounding trees. Once, I wake briefly to add another branch to the dying embers and find the cub asleep beside the bedroll, one oversized paw resting across the edge of my blanket as though making certain I have not disappeared during the night. Sleep claims me again almost immediately.

The following morning greets us beneath a sky washed clean by the cool air drifting in from the western hills. We break camp shortly after sunrise and return to the road while dew still clings to the grass. My body feels considerably better than it had only a day earlier. The deeper bruises have faded from angry purple to dull yellow, the cuts across my shoulder have begun knitting cleanly beneath fresh bandages, and the stiffness in my thigh loosens after the first mile of walking.

The Grove continues its quiet work. Even separated by nearly two days' travel, I can still sense it somewhere beyond the horizon. The connection remains faint, little more than a steady thread resting at the edge of my awareness, yet mana flows through it with a confidence I have never experienced before. The Hollowmane cub seems to have reached some conclusion regarding yesterday's events. By midmorning it has abandoned the cautious distance it insisted upon after the bandit fight.

Instead, it wanders wherever curiosity leads, occasionally disappearing into the roadside grass before bouncing back with twigs caught in its fur or leaves somehow balanced triumphantly between its rounded ears. At one point it discovers a family of quail feeding near the edge of a wheat field. The cub lowers itself into what it clearly believes is an impressive hunting stance. Its hindquarters wiggle; one paw inches forward then another. The quail continue pecking unconcernedly.

The cub launches itself with tremendous enthusiasm. Every bird takes flight at once; feathers whirl into the air. The cub lands squarely in the middle of an empty patch of grass, blinking in complete bewilderment as the flock disappears over the next hill. I continue walking.

"I'll pretend that was your plan." An indignant chirp follows behind me. By early afternoon, the countryside begins looking increasingly familiar. The road broadens; more wagons travel south. Farmhouses appear at regular intervals, each surrounded by cultivated fields stretching toward the horizon. Smoke rises lazily from distant chimneys while workers pause briefly to wave at passing travelers before returning to their harvest. Then, at last Fallowspire.

Its stone walls rise above the surrounding countryside exactly as I remember them, weathered towers standing watch over the northern road while colorful banners flutter lazily in the afternoon breeze. Beyond the rooftops, reaching proudly above almost every building within the city, the upper branches of the Silverwood spread across the sky like a living crown. I had not realized how much I missed the sight until now. The cub notices my pace quickening and immediately hurries alongside me.

Together we approach the northern gate. One of the guards leans comfortably upon his spear before straightening as recognition dawns across his face.

"Grovekeeper." This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"It's good to see you again."

"And you." His eyes travel briefly over the bandages still visible beneath my cloak before settling upon the cub walking beside me. He blinks.

"... Is that a Hollowmane?"

"It appears so."

"You say that like you found it lying beside the road."

"In a manner of speaking." The second guard laughs.

"I don't suppose there's a short version of that story?"

"No."

"I didn't think so." The first guard shakes his head, still smiling as he steps aside.

"Well, whatever happened out there, welcome home." I incline my head in thanks before continuing through the gates. The familiar streets stretch ahead, alive with the comforting chaos I had scarcely noticed before leaving. Merchants call cheerfully from open stalls while apprentices hurry between workshops carrying bundles of timber, iron and cloth. Somewhere farther along the avenue, a baker removes fresh loaves from a stone oven, their warm scent drifting easily above the bustle of the afternoon crowd.

The familiar streets gradually give way to quieter lanes as I leave the market district behind. Stone buildings become smaller, replaced by timber homes tucked beneath old oaks whose branches cast shifting patterns across the road. Before long, the outer wall surrounding Heartwood Grove comes into view, its weathered stones already half-hidden beneath climbing ivy that has grown noticeably thicker since my departure. The gate stands open. One of the city guards assigned to the Grove notices me first.

He breaks into a broad smile before straightening instinctively.

"Lord Grovekeeper." I still haven't grown accustomed to the title.

"Good afternoon."

"We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"Neither was I." His eyes drift toward the Hollowmane cub weaving comfortably around my boots. For a long moment he simply stares.

"... Should I ask?"

"You could."

"And?"

"It would take a while." The guard laughs.

"I'll let your group hear the story first." I nod as I step through the gate and the change is immediate. The sounds of Fallowspire fade behind the stone wall until only the quiet rustle of leaves remains. Sunlight filters gently through the broad canopy overhead, dappling the winding paths leading toward the Silverwood. Birds dart freely between branches while butterflies drift lazily through beds of wildflowers that simply hadn't existed a fortnight ago. The Grove has grown.

As though every passing day quietly encourages life to settle a little deeper within its borders. I slow without realizing it. The Silverwood rises before me, its pale trunk gleaming softly beneath the afternoon light while thousands of silver-green leaves shimmer overhead. Something stirs. No wind touches my face yet the branches sway. The leaves whisper together in a language only the forest seems to understand. Warmth spreads quietly through the bond resting somewhere deep inside me.

Like the grove is saying in its own way, welcome home. I reach out almost without thinking, resting my palm against the smooth bark.

"I'm back." The sensation that answers cannot be described in words of speech or thought, only quiet contentment. The Silverwood knows. A sudden shout breaks the peaceful silence.

"Kaelen!" I barely have time to turn before two small figures come hurtling down the path. Eammon reaches me first and Aine is only a heartbeat behind. Neither shows the slightest intention of slowing down. I brace instinctively as both children throw themselves against me and the embrace immediately reminds me that my ribs are still healing. I barely manage not to wince.

"You were gone forever!" Aine declares.

"It was merely five to six days."

"That's forever."

"I counted," Eammon says confidently.

"So did I."

"You counted differently."

"We did not."

"You skipped yesterday."

"I didn't!" The argument begins with remarkable efficiency and I smile despite myself.

"I missed both of you as well." Only then do they notice the cub. Both children freeze. The Hollowmane cub freezes too. For several long heartbeats, everyone simply stares at everyone else.

"... Is that..." Eammon whispers.

"... a Hollowmane?"

"I believe so."

"It's tiny." The cub lets out a soft, thoroughly offended chirp.

"I don't think it agrees." Aine slowly crouches.

"Oh..." Her voice drops almost to a whisper.

"... it's adorable." The cub immediately retreats behind my legs. Only its rounded ears remain visible. Eammon takes one careful step forward.

"It won't bite..."

"I hope."

"You hope?"

"I haven't known it very long." The children exchange uncertain glances. The cub peeks around my cloak. Aine smiles. The cub disappears behind me again.

"I'm being judged." I hear quiet laughter behind us.

"I'd say that's fair." I turn. Aibell walks toward us carrying a basket filled with freshly gathered herbs, the afternoon sun catching the loose strands of auburn hair that have escaped her braid. Relief spreads plainly across her face the moment our eyes meet, though it lasts only until she notices the fresh bandages still visible beneath my cloak. The smile fades.

"You are hurt."

"I'm still standing."

"That wasn't my question."

"It rarely is." She reaches me a moment later, her eyes carefully examining the bruising along my jaw before moving toward the shoulder I have been unconsciously favoring since entering the Grove.

"How bad?"

"I've been worse." Aibell sighs.

"I suppose that's meant to reassure me."

"It wasn't." Before she can continue, another familiar voice reaches us from farther up the path.

"So..." Garrick rests one forearm across the wooden practice fence surrounding the clearing, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"... did Greenhollow survive?"

"It did."

"And you?"

"Barely." He studies me for another moment before nodding once.

"Good." To anyone else, the exchange might have seemed strangely brief. To Garrick it is enough. He notices the cub only after beginning to walk toward us. One eyebrow rises.

"That wasn't there when you left."

"No."

"I didn't think so." The Hollowmane finally decides Garrick deserves investigation. It pads cautiously around me before stopping directly in front of him. Garrick crouches without hesitation. Neither reaches for the other but neither retreat either. After several quiet moments, the cub steps forward and sniffs the back of his hand before gently nudging it with its nose.

"Hm." Garrick scratches lightly beneath one rounded ear.

"I like this one." The cub immediately leans harder into his hand, traitor.

"I saw that." Garrick's expression remains perfectly serious.

"It appears to like me. Then, it has excellent judgment." For the first time since leaving Northwood, the cub lets out a low, contented rumble in comfort. Looking around at the familiar faces gathered beneath the Silverwood, I realize something I hadn't allowed myself to think during the long road home. Somewhere between Greenhollow and Fallowspire. This place stopped being somewhere I protected because I had to. It became home.