Branch and Root: Day 25

[3] Um's Tale: Chapter 3 (25,438 / 1,000,000)

The forest vibrated with the gentle hum of life. Little brown birds flitted from tree branch to tree branch, adding their chirped songs to the soft music of the wind. Charred stumps jutted from the earth in places. Their pattern was unnaturally ordered, the trail of blackened stumps stretched off into the shade of the forest, but ended at a small clearing. Nestled in the clearing, among rippling blades of emerald grass, sat an imposing oak. Its branches reached far above the canopy of the forest, and they spread wide around it. At the base of the tree, a squat bush rustled with motion, and a few birds tweeted their surprise while they darted away.

A human hand reached out from inside the tree, and grasped the edge of the hollow which was concealed by the bush. A head followed the hand. The long, brown hair was tangled and matted in places, and it almost merged with scrappy wisps of brown beard. The rest of the man followed, and he stood up tall in the clearing. He stayed there for some time, eyes shut, taking deep breaths of forest air and swaying gently with the breeze. He hummed quietly to himself while he stood - a jaunty tune. The forest incorporated the man into itself, and he became part of it. Each chirping bird and rustling leaf eventually accepted him into their domain.

Something unknowable compelled the man to action, and his eyes snapped open. He grinned widely and sang out in a clear tenor, and his song was the song of the forest. He thanked the trees for their soft accompaniment, and for the shade of their canopy. He thanked the birds for their scattered melodies, and their humorous antics. His song was a song of the forest, but also of him. Through his ballad, he stated his intentions to the forest. He expressed that he meant it no harm, that he was merely passing through. The forest could see that this was a man who was versed in the ways of the branch and root, and so it made way for him as he set off through it.

He walked this way and that while he sang; and where he walked, the thick underbrush of the forest floor shifted ever so slightly to ease his passage. To a casual observer, the underbrush was doing nothing more than rustling in the gentle breeze. The man stopped before one of the burnt trunks, and ran a finger along the charred bark. He paused his song for a moment to lick his finger. He spat out the powdery black dust immediately with a grimace. He knew he was in the right place. He continued his walk, this time following the path that the charred stumps laid out before him. As he walked, he switched back to humming, and his grin faded in favor of a more subdued, contemplative expression.

He trekked through the forest for some time this way, passing tree after tree, bush after bush, and crossing a creek at one point; until he could see the line of the forest ending ahead of him. When he reached the edge of the forest, he turned back and gave a reverent bow. He turned his back to the trees, and surveyed the remains of a village which lay before him. The dozen or so huts that once occupied this clearing were now nothing more than mounds of grass, their charred remains long overgrown. There was a faint, acrid scent on the air, barely noticeable to the man. The scent was muffled by the sweet scents of the forest, which was doing its best to reclaim this patch of earth.

He approached the mound closest to the tree line, crouched down beside it, and rested his hand upon it. The stubbly patch of grass growing upon it was stunted, as if something strange was thwarting its growth. Ancient memories welled in the man, but they were far too distant for him to recall clearly. He stood and continued his surveilling of the town. He reached a larger mound, centered amongst the others, and began to poke about it. There were thick beams of charred wood still piled under the meager mosses on this one. He reached under one such beam and hefted it to the side, unleashing a plume of dust and ash. He batted his hand through the cloud, the acrid smell from before filling his nostrils and burning his throat. Many creatures were disturbed by the sudden intrusion into their home. A battalion of ants began to march towards him, before he convinced them to lay down their arms. A few beetles and wasps appraised him, before buzzing away; and a solitary green snake slithered up and around his leg after a brief introduction.

He sifted through the remains and then gave an exclamatory shout. He lifted a broken shard of reflective glass out of the pile, and held it before himself. A reflected eye gazed back at him, the green iris swirled and rippled as it looked back at him, like blades of grass in wind. He turned his head and examined the tattered state of his hair, and was shocked by the presence of the beard, scraggly though it was. He tucked the shard into his belt, and resumed his rifling. The snake got bored of his efforts, and slithered down his leg and into the grass. He eventually stood up, already dirty tunic now completely black with soot. This time, he clutched a small metal object. He unfolded it to reveal the gleaming edge of a razor. He gave a satisfied nod, folded it shut, and tucked that away as well. He dusted off his filthy clothes, achieving nothing, and appraised his surroundings once more. He first checked the direction of the sun, then tilted his head back and felt for patterns on the wind.

“Um… I guess this way,” he said aloud, and set off.