#narrans

Gritting his teeth, Garrick tore his eyes away from the slitted eyes of the splasher and tugged his hook free from the zipper securing him to the human. The uneven steps threatened to throw him off balance, but he was as sure footed as they came and spun on his heel, foot grinding into the coarse fabric of the pack and jumped. 

Launched forward and to the side, he threw his hook and tugged it taut as it caught the brim of the hat. Suspended in mid-air only for a moment, Garrick glanced over his shoulder and glimpsed the vacant features of the human currently ensnared by the creature. The Borrower’s heart seized as he passed directly in front of the human’s face, knowing full well he was in their direct line of sight; at least, he would be if they weren’t completely at the mercy of the creature luring them into the water. 

Not now! Just swipe and jump. Get away. Drop in the water once the eyes are clear. 

Garrick saw the odd yellow-green cloud over the human’s eyes and knew this was his one shot. Just as he swung back from the momentum of his leap forward, his feet planted on the human’s cheek while the rest of his body lunged forward on the line. Garrick swiped wildly as his heart pounded continuously like a war drum warning him away from his current circumstance. 

Missed. 

The leaves barely left a draft on the human’s forehead. 

Come on! 

Garrick could see the human was up to their waist now. Dark tendrils were starting to snake down by their ankles. He was nearly out of time. He threw himself backward and forward again. With his momentum, he lunged forward once more, practically throwing himself toward the human’s face. 

This time, he snagged a handful of the human’s hair, which lined their face in short cut bangs, and grasped the bridge of their nose between his knees, rope tucked under his armpit. Leaves tight in his hand, he pressed his full weight into the leaves and dragged it across the human’s forehead. The smear of blood and oil from the mint leaf created an uneven arc as Garrick’s arm swiped across his body. 

Time slowed for that brief moment. Garrick looked over the top of his leg as he remained perched awkwardly on the human’s nose at the human’s enormous eye. The glaze cleared, the yellow-green fading like the colors of dawn from the early morning, and was followed by one slow blink and then several rapid ones. The brow Garrick was currently stabilized on furrowed and the nose scrunched, nearly bucking him off of the appendage. 

A guttural sucking sound raised the hair on Garrick’s neck as an audible splash disturbed the water behind him. The tendrils retracted, the creature retreating into the murky depths, leaving defeated and hungry as it rightfully should. Garrick exhaled audibly, tension in his shoulders releasing, and reached backward into his pack to pull out some cattail fluff just for good measure when the consequences of his actions literally stared him in the face. There was little doubt that the human was no longer under the spell of the splasher, and that put him in a precarious position as he was literally perched on the human’s nose. 

Eyes blown wide open and crossed to stare directly at him, Garrick imagined he and the human shared the same expression - mouths agape and rigidity returning to their bodies as each stared into the others’ eyes to the best of their abilities. All thought vaporized. Instinct abandoned him as the Borrower felt entranced by immense blue-green eyes. 

He’d encountered many beasts and creatures, but only in this moment did Garrick fully realize the gravity of what he’d done. 

“Wha-.... UGH!” The human flinched and began backing out of the water, threatening to knock Garrick loose. 

Shoot! Move, you idiot! 

Garrick’s muscles pulled taut like that of a bow as he fumbled the rope and threw himself backward, pushing off of the human’s cheeks by the base of their nose. Recognition dawned on the human’s features as Garrick was now sure he was in clear, unblurred view. His legs snaked around the line and he began to slide down. Each motion was planned and calculated. Sliding down the rope. Flipping into the water. Diving down into the murk so the human couldn’t find him. Making his way through the cattails and vanishing into the forest as the human scoured the ground for him. 

He made it three inches down the line as the momentum carried him back away from the human’s face only to crash into an outstretched hand. 

The fingers crested into his peripheral vision. His spine collided and fit into the crevasse of the human’s palm. No sound escaped. Not even a gasp of surprise eeked out of him. It all happened too fast. Like the snap of a mousetrap, the fingers closed around Garrick’s body, instantly restraining him. Arms pinned to his front as he continued to cling to the rope and face currently smashed by the pad of a finger, the Borrower realized in that lightning fast moment that he’d been caught by the one thing he was actually terrified of out here. 

The only thing free was his feet, which he attempted to maneuver into kicking the base of the human’s palm. He only managed to struggle feebly while the hand that contained him whirled around, churning his stomach worse than a free fall from a tall branch in a tree. The sound of the human wading through the water was the least of his concerns, but try as he might, Garrick couldn’t wiggle free. The sploosh of the water turned into sopping steps, the squelch of the moist banks giving way under the human’s feet. His heart beat fervently as he steeled himself. 

Calm down. 

Breathe. 

It felt impossible with the pad of the human’s finger nearly smothering him. The heat of the hand around him was sweltering. The unfair size of the human appendage flexed imperceptibly for a human, but sent Garrick’s mind reeling. 

Oh F-! They’re going to crush me! This is it. I knew better. I knew better and I did it anyway. What was I thinking?! 

The hand relaxed as the human jostled around. Garrick couldn’t even begin to guess what was going on in the human’s mind as he was held aloft. 

Calm down. You need to get out of here. You can do this. It’s just a human… just… a human. I’ve faced scarier. I’ve seen worse! But… have I? No. Don’t think about that right now. I can get out of this. I just have to clear my mind. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on getting away, whatever it takes. 

His mantra flooded his thoughts. 

What is mine stays with me. What is not, passes by me. Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer. If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.

His struggles calmed. Garrick forced muffled breath after muffled breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The moment he could see, he’d be able to make a better plan. Until then, resistance and effort was futile. He relaxed, body practically falling limp as he embraced the unknown. 

The Borrower didn’t fight or dare move as the fingers flexed again, the sounds of the squelching now becoming more subtle. Garrick resisted the urge to flinch as he felt something prod at his exposed feet. He didn’t even fight as the rope in his hands was tugged free as he remained constricted within those fleshy columns that dwarfed him. 

You’ve been seen. You’re caught. Might as well go for the trifecta, especially if it gets me out of this. 

There was an immense jostling followed by something that sounded like a nervous exhalation. 

That’s the sound of bracing if I’ve ever heard one. Garrick calmed his breathing and steeled himself, taking his own breath to brace what was about to happen. 

The top three fingers eased their grasp on his body, keeping his legs locked in place, unfurling like a morning glory, timid and slow. Based on his position, he knew he had been laid on his back or in somewhat of a horizontal position. The mix of cold shadow and bright light told him they were in a shaded area, but they hadn’t gone far from the edge of the water. The Borrower had mere moments to acclimate to his new surroundings now that he’d been carried to someplace new. Eyes squinted shut. One breath. 

Open.

Garrick opened his eyes, jaw stiffened, as his vision was nearly consumed by the features of the human. It took all his willpower to tear his eyes away from those blue-green eyes that could’ve held him in place with a glance. Eyes darting away, Garrick felt a spark of ease. He recognized the canopy of trees and the scent that lingered of moss and stagnant water. There were some hollows nearby he’d used to hide in seasons passed which he could use again if he could make it to the ground. 

The movement of the human’s other hand caught his attention. Much like how a cat would pick up the slightest movement from a flittering bird or stealthed mouse, the Borrower’s innate apprehension to human hands locked onto the human’s free hand lifting up by his midsection before freezing and quickly retracting to cover her mouth. 

Her. She… oh great. 

Garrick could see it clearly now that the hat was off of her head. The cut of the hair. The softer features no longer consumed with vacancy inflicted by some creature. The subtle bumps across her chest no longer hidden beneath the backpack straps. He’d been warned all his life about humans, young boys to be precise, but he’d always thought that girls, specifically young adult women, were far more dangerous. They were prone to sensitivities and maternal instincts; and that went for his kind as well as humans. 

Now knowing he was in the clutches of one gave the Borrower no comfort. 

Her mouth began moving, and immediately Garrick felt himself bristling.

“Hey… hey there… little guy.” The woman’s voice admittedly was soft and not shattering his eardrums, but in that curious, cooing tone. The initial panic nearly vaporized entirely while Garrick stared into the woman’s features and was replaced with mild annoyance. 

Why is she talking to me like a child? I’m pretty sure I’m older than her. 

His exhale came out in an irritated puff and, as weird as the sensation was to place his hands onto hers, he pushed himself upright now that it was only his legs being restrained. Looking up into her features, Garrick felt his fear subsiding. The thought of all the creatures and monsters he’d faced being ten times more intimidating than this woman crossed his mind, and he realized his terror came not from the human, but the simple fact that humans didn’t follow the same rules as the monsters he’d studied for most of his life. 

Garrick knew how to fight, ward, and avoid everything in these woods except for humans, hence their power over him. 

Calm down. Why’re you freaking out? I’ve faced worse, and they couldn’t understand me. This one can. I can’t talk to the others. If she’s smart, she’ll listen and that’ll be that. Worst case… well… I doubt she’s got anything in that bag that can keep me contained for long. 

I can do this. 

“What… no…. W-who… are you?” she asked cautiously. Her hand flexed slightly while lifting him up to be more eye-level with her. 

Garrick, taking the gamble of a lifetime, met her gaze with determined defiance as he wriggled and failed to pull his legs free from her encompassing grip. 

“Someone who just saved your enormous hide. Now, would you mind letting me go? I’m not a stress ball, doll, toy, or pet and I don’t like being coddled like one.” He hoped the human wouldn’t lash out, but recognized that he was still in a precarious situation. That said, he was never one to sugar coat anything and wasn’t about to rearrange who he was just because he was in a pinch. If something bad was going to happen, he was going out as himself. 

He’d made that decision a long time ago. 

He instantly picked up on the surprise and mild offence in the woman’s expression as she looked at him incredulously. Her jaw slackened, fingers loosened ever so slightly but didn’t relinquish their grip on his legs. To emphasize his point, Garrick tugged at his legs again in a vain attempt to free himself. 

“I… excuse me?” she asked. 

“You heard me. Let. Me. Go. I’ll even say please as a courtesy. You humans like that sort of thing.” Garrick’s heart would’ve given away his nervousness if this human could see the way it was pounding faster and faster like some kind of fleeing animal. He was barely able to keep his voice forceful and level. The human, to his dismay, ignored his demand as her eyes inventoried his body, examining him as if to memorize every detail. 

“You… talk,” she breathed. “And you’re so… human.” 

Garrick rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it looks like that to you, now will you please…”

“How’d you get out here?” she interrupted. Garrick thought for a moment that she might be in some kind of trance still, but she wasn’t exhibiting any other symptoms - meaning this was just a human being a human. Frustrated, Garrick reached up and began rubbing his temples, mouth open to speak, when the girl shook her head as if to shake away a thought, looked around the forest where she’d leaned against a nearby tree, and she continued. “I… uh… sorry. Wait. Why… why were you on my face? And why was I in the water? Did… did you do that?” 

Garrick let the silence sit while looking up into her curious features, hands still pressed against his temples, as he asked. “Oh, you’re talking to me now? Listening to what I have to say?”

“Okay, okay. No need to get snarky. I…” the woman began to retort. 

“Really? That’s a relief,” scoffed Garrick, interrupting her. “If you’re listening to me, then have the decency to honor my request and let… me… go.” 

The woman’s jaw clenched defiantly, and Garrick swore he felt her fingers tighten around his legs. Still, he held firm and didn’t dare to break his gaze away. Silence embracing them as each stared down the other, it was the woman who broke first. 

“How do I know you’re not just going to run off?” she asked skeptically. 

“You don’t, and it is not up to you whether I stay or go,” stated Garrick. 

She stared at the little man in her hand, who couldn’t’ve been taller than four or so inches, and considered her options. 

She remembered the woods, but not the ones that were around her. She remembered walking with the others through the trees when she broke line of sight with them, hearing something. Something distant? Something close? A doorway? A set of stairs? 

The whole thing was a blur. 

The only thing she really remembered clearly was this tiny man perched on the bridge of her nose before slipping off and falling. She’d caught him and found herself in water. Now he seemed annoyed and not the least bit grateful. 

Who was he? 

Where did he come from? 

Now thinking about the paths before her, she had a decision to make. 

This little guy could maybe handle himself; but also how could he? He was so small. It was too dangerous to have him running around, and she had an empty section in her bag where he could cool off and be safe. 

She could also guarantee this little guy wouldn’t run away. She wanted - needed - answers. Even if he was a snarky, sarcastic thorn, he seemed to be aware and knowledgeable. She had some string and could easily slip it around his ankles or midsection. She had him pinned, and what could he really do? He certainly didn’t seem trustworthy and was obviously eager to flee. 

Or she could listen to him and hope beyond hope that he didn’t vanish into the forest and that he actually stayed not only to answer her questions, but also to help. She was out here for a reason, and she wasn’t leaving - couldn’t leave - without finding the answers. 

| ~ What should she do? ~ |

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He pressed his back against the tree, aligning the ridges and grooves of the bark with his spine, eyes closed and head bowed as if praying. In a way, he was. 

“Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer.”

He kept his words barely above a breath. Talking to this thing - this creature - would be the end of him. Looking at it would only lure him in. Tempt him. Try to ensnare him. That wasn’t the real danger - it was talking to it. This one was different than the others. Not unique, but different. 

Garrick learned that a long time ago. 

You could talk to yourself to keep your sanity. You could talk to a friend if one was nearby to distract from the magnetic draw of this thing. Above all else and to keep yourself safe, you couldn’t speak directly to it. He’d seen too many get snarfed up in one bite, drawn by the darkness and call of loved ones long dead. 

So, he kept his eyes closed as the scrapes inched closer, this thing flexing its fingers as if attempting to pet the tree with just its fingertips, as the whispers began. 

Are you there? 

Can you hear me?

I’m lost.

I’m lost.

I’m llooossstttt. 

Breathy. 

Drawn out. 

Three tones three different times. 

Young. 

Old. 

Male.

Female. 

He’d heard all of these voices at one point or another in his life. 

Still, he continued to mumble to himself, head down and eyes closed. 

“If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.”

Garrick inhaled silently, eyes still shut, as the scent hit him. A gut churning scent of decay and deep earth that lingered in the air like morning smog. The repulsion built acid in the back of his throat. It was worse than before, meaning the thing was hungry. The worse the smell, the longer it had gone without feeding, the last meal actively rotting in its teeth unreplenished with fresh flesh and blood. The thing’s hot breath radiated from its throat as it lowered itself to Garrick’s level. In his mind, he could see its skeletal jaw scraping the forest floor as it inched toward him. 

Hhheeelllpppp… 

Pppplleeaasssee…

The curling whispers pleaded with him, but he started again with his phrases. It was the only thing he could do as he scraped his back against the bark of the tree. 

“What is mine stays with me. What is not, passes by me. Hear the truth, not the echo. If the forest calls, I do not answer. If the forest calls, I do not answer. Listen to the wind, not the whispers.”

Gggaaarrriiiiccckkkk! 

Garrick! 

GARRICK! 

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Somewhere in his head, he started reciting the rules of the woods. It was the only thing he could do. It only registered halfway through the third one. 

“-thing you think is out there is. Rule four. If you hear your name, you don’t. Look away. Walk away. Don’t talk to it. Don’t follow it. Don’t let it know you know. Rule five. Some things are harmless until they’re not. Learn quickly which is which. Rule six. You have to look after yourself. Tell the others if you find them. Warn anyone you come across. Rule seven...” 

Garrick continued through every rule even as he heard the shluff of saliva hit the ground beside him. He tensed his core, steeling himself as one hand absent mindedly reached into his side pouch for the few baneberries he’d kept while his other hand reached up and grasped the medallion around his neck, fingers tracing the sigil he’d carved into it years ago. His imagination was rampant with possibilities for what this thing was doing, but one thing he knew was that it was looking at him with one of those milky, hollow eye sockets mere inches away. 

Then, all at once, with the creaking and snap of its old bones, the thing pushed itself to its feet and staggered off into the woods. The wails and cries of the boney, necrotic mass ventured off into the woods, soon falling silent as the bipedal monstrosity vanished into the trees. 

Garrick, still tense, heaved breath after breath as silently as possible as he dared to open his left eye. The shadows were long and flickering around his miniscule campfire, obscured by his eyelashes which created an odd veil which he wasn’t unfamiliar with. With the coast clear, Garrick slumped against the tree and attempted to calm his furiously beating heart. 

With a grin and muttering just above a whisper, he said, “Rule thirty-one. Remember the Borrower rules if you make it this far.” 

Garrick had thankfully never had to employ the Borrower rules in all his years living out here in the forest. Living in the wilds naturally had its benefits as well as its drawbacks, but Garrick chose it willingly. The trees and brush constructed more of a home than brick and mortar ever could. Sure, there were visitor centers and homes nearby where many friends and family chose to live, but being out here before the cold season was liberating in a way that few Borrowers enjoyed. The outdoors offered a kind of peace he’d never found by lamp light scurrying among the rafters or under the musty floorboards. The dangers were significant, yes, but he’d learned how to contend with these monstrosities. 

Humans had names for things like these. Creep-ids? Or something like that. 

It didn’t matter to Garrick what the humans called these things. All he really knew was they all were real, and he knew how to protect himself against them; at least, most of them. It was part of his curiosity - his drive - for being out here. Learning what these things were. What they could do. Stories of humans, he’d heard, but the odd campfire spooks that struck fear into humans, old and young alike, lured him like rats to refuse. 

These things were more fascinating than anything a human could do. 

Taking out his journal, Garrick began quickly scribbling into his notebook the day and the events that transpired. He quickly sketched the thing from memories of seeing it during other encounters as well as other notes like predictions of when it last ate and the techniques it attempted to use to lure him to it. Each note he made aligned with the creature he often called, “Stalker,” though he was sure humans referred to this thing by a different name. Windy-something? Endigoon? 

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrick muttered to himself as he finished his sketch and his notes. Before having a spot of dinner and sliding into his makeshift tent, he made sure to wipe off his hands from the potential contamination of the baneberry. The last thing he wanted was to get violently ill when he was in need of rations. 

Satisfied, he flipped through his notes, dried meat in his cheek, and made notes of the frequency of seeing his windy-stalker in recent months. The trend was clear - the numbers were increasing. It was a familiar pattern. Migration like. It corresponded with the cold seasons. 

They were coming back from… wherever they came from. Beyond the forest. Beyond the waters. Whatever was north. It was beyond Garrick, but what wasn’t beyond him was a comfortable night’s rest. 

He examined the other notes he’d left about other sightings he’d seen. The odd stairs. The Hiders. Flippers. Ghosts. Splashers. Humans gave them other names, but getting close enough to identify these creatures by human standards was a waste of time. It didn’t really matter to the Borrower. What did matter was the pattern. All of them were coming back from wherever they were, the only ones seemingly vacating the premises were the water-based critters. 

“Makes sense,” sighed Garrick. “Water is going to start getting cold, and they don’t like that. Or…” The Borrower thought about it for a moment. He flipped quickly to the back of his book where he often scratched random notes and, muttering while writing, scratched, “Hybernate, maybe still there?” The thought was unnerving and he fought off a shudder as he thought about the times he’d walked across the ice to common fishing spots, not knowing whether or not one of those things was directly under him. 

“Changes nothing,” he groaned as he kicked dirt over his campfire. With the fire extinguished, leaving Garrick scented with the wood he ensured had a sprinkle of sage. He curled among his leathers and furs, the scent of the wild surrounding him, as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip off into oblivion. 

This was the life of this Borrower. 

Survival.

Exploration.

Curiosities beyond what one would find in the safety of the walls or rafters or floors. 

Garrick’s life was one he deemed simple, despite the oddities that often bled into his day-to-day activities. After all, safety and survival were the main two goals, a benefit being satisfying knowledge of the unknown and learning about the undiscovered wonders of the world that most humans failed to notice and survive against when encountered. 

Dreamlessness embraced the Borrower, and daybreak came too swiftly, bringing with it the activities of the day. Garrick, stretching from under the furs, gazed up at the illuminating sky, the colors streaking across like a watercolor on a canvas, pale and pure. A bit of dew coated the underside of the ferns nearby and the lingering scent the wendy-thing left behind had thankfully dulled. 

I have to filter out some water. I need to do some hunting too. Maybe fishing? Down by the water? Two minnows, one spear? Sure. Sounds alright to me. Need some more cedar too if possible. Maybe mint. That’s sometimes by the water. A bit far, but worth it. Cattails too. Good grief. I’m out of everything. That’s what I get for just focusing on study. 

Garrick groaned to no one other than himself when he pushed himself upright and began the work of the day that he’d known for twenty years. 

Get up.

Find something to eat. 

Drink - if safe. 

Hunt. 

Make notes. 

Don’t get eaten. 

Collect herbs and other low supplies. 

Just another day in the life of an Outie Borrower. 

Garrick, pack secured on his back, began trudging his way down to the water where he’d remembered seeing the supplies he required. His feet made quick work of the moistened roots and knotted branches. Each bound over softened moss was as quick and quiet as a whisper, leaving behind no trace. Nothing but the sounds of the wild, crickets and birds and other odd skittering things, filled the air. 

Weird. Garrick thought as he slowed his run to a light jog, stopping at the first sign the ground was beginning to moisten. Usually I see the stairs or one of the flippers around. It’s where they usually are. Did they decide to move? Alerted, he traversed cautiously toward his quarry, a few long mint stalks that were nestled in the shallow muck. Out of the dozen or so leaves, seven made their way into his bag with a careful pinch, twist, and tuck into the side satchel. 

The Borrower leapt and hooked his spare paperclip onto the roots as he swung from root wad to root wad until he spotted the tall stalks of the cattails he had been hunting. As he stepped up onto one of the roots, however, something caught his attention that chilled him to the bone. Immediately, he crouched low among the roots he was perched on, instincts warning him away from his natural adversary. 

A human. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a human. It wasn’t the first time they’d ventured this far and he’d gone unnoticed. It was still unnerving seeing them though. Features so similar to his own, yet proportionally immense by comparison. From his vantage point, he could only glimpse vague features of the human. Long-ish hair pulled back into a tail-thing. Basing ball hat or whatever they called it. Backpack. Outdoorsy clothing? But nothing to note camouflage. Not tall, but then again who wasn’t when it came to humans and Borrowers. 

I need to get out of this spot if they’re going to be… 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the lapping waves against the banks of the bay caught his attention. Instinctually, he closed one eye and turned his opened eye to the water, ears intently focused on the sound of the waves. What he feared crept into being. 

Whispers. 

Not just any kind of whispers either. 

“A lure.” Garrick scanned the water, eye locking onto the creature he was all too familiar with. It had another name according to the humans, but he just called it a splasher because it was often the last thing he saw of the thing it happened to have caught in its sights. Pure instinct moved his hand to his side satchel as he tore off a piece of mint leaf, jabbed his hand against his emergency thorn, wiped the blood onto the leaf, and rubbed the bloodied leaf against his forehead, eye looking back to the human as he watched their movements closely. 

He was surprised he missed the signs when he first saw the human. 

Staggering walk. 

Vacant expression. 

As noisy as a human could be if not louder. 

Garrick couldn’t tear his eye away from the human as they continued to stumble toward the water. Tradition dictated that he run away. He could practically hear his predecessors screaming at him from beyond and the visitors centers at the edge of the woods for him to run away. Stay hidden. Don’t meddle with things that don’t directly concern you. Still, he stayed locked in place. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t look away, but he found himself muttering encouragements with each step the human advanced toward the water. 

“Come ooonnn.” Garrick urged quietly. “Move through the cattails. It’ll distract it. Just move through them.” 

The human didn’t. 

Step.

Step.

Step. 

The person was nearly at the water’s edge. 

“Come on!” Garrick urged. 

Step. 

Step. 

Garrick held his breath as he watched like some silent specter. It was agonizing. He’d seen things like this happen before, but it was always in the dead of night when the human was asleep. He’d never confess it, but he’d gone out on a limb, sometimes literally, for a human before, venturing into their camps and spreading sage or cedar or mint around to keep those things creeping in the night away from their intended prey. 

Never was it in daylight. 

Never was it when he could be seen. 

Desperate, he watched the human as he struggled with what to do. 

“Come on! Please…”

Step. 

Step. 

The person’s shoes were practically at the edge of the water. Each pound of Garrick’s thumping heart seemed to slow with each passing beat. He’d seen what became of living things when entering at the splasher’s call. He’d heard their cries - the panic. The moments before when he was forced to witness the end of another life as gnargled, moss woven teeth pulled their quarry under the water to the roots beneath. 

Everything slowed. 

His decision was made. 

Nothing - not even a human - deserved to die like this. 

Against every instinct he possessed, Garrick used the roots beneath to spring forward as he ran along the banks beside the cattails, throwing his body desperately against them in the hopes that motion alone would be enough to break the splasher’s concentration. Knowing he was protected, he opened his other eye and looked to the water to see if his distraction was working. 

No such luck. 

The human still stepped forward, shoes now beginning to enter the water. 

“Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot!” 

What on earth are you thinking?! 

The Borrower pulled out his hooks and, now directly behind the human as they made it one step into the water, threw his hook with all of his might. There was a moment where he braced himself, cursing his own stupidity, as his hook latched onto the human’s backpack. Yanked off of the ground with incredible speed, Garrick scrambled up the line with the momentum he gained from the jolt of his line. 

He grunted as he hoisted himself up onto the backpack as he heard the human’s footsteps breaking the water, now past the ankles and approaching the knees with a single step. Each move jostled the entire pack he was on, making him grab desperately onto the zippers beside him. The human was up to their knees. 

Garrick didn’t waste any time. He scrambled up onto the human’s shoulder, snagging a handful of hair to keep from toppling off, as he caught the slits of the creature’s eyes peering at him from what felt like feet away. 

Not good! Not good! 

His hand flew into his bag as he ripped another piece of mint and dug it into his bloodied scratch from earlier, realizing now there was a choice to be had. 

Rubbing this on the human’s neck where he was currently might work. It would break the splasher’s concentrated hold, but it would be up to the human to resist continuing into the water. It would mean he’d have a chance to get away though. 

Or, alternatively, he could free the human by jumping onto their head and rubbing the mixture on their forehead, breaking the splasher’s hold entirely, but there was no getting around it - he would be seen. 

| ~ What should Garrick do? ~ |

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The sun on the horizon began to slowly illuminate the sky in golds and pinks that he often saw in the springtime flowers. Galen knew he needed to return soon, but wanted just another minute to seek out anything he might’ve overlooked in treks past. He balanced on logs past the trails and over the two smaller gullies he’d found when he was just a boy. 

As he walked, his eyes wandered in between the gaps of the trees as he glimpsed the warding stones. Like soldiers in vigil, the stones stood at the border of their town, protecting them from the shadows and evils that once haunted them. It wasn’t too long ago when monsters hunted the humans of his town and the towns of the lands beyond. He’d grown up with the stories of these creatures and what happened when they ravaged the land and those who walked upon it. 

Thankfully, Galen had never known a time when the Colossus hadn’t been protectors of the land. He shuddered to think what kind of life he might’ve known if those arcane giants hadn’t torn through the veil of their own world to come here, declaring themselves guardians of the humans as they beat back the monstrosities. 

Nothing is free though. Their protection for The Choosing. 

He wasn’t sure when, but Galen found himself standing at the base of one of those tall warding stones. The faint green-gray glow of the stones was a gentle reminder of that continued protection - the continued rule - over the domain. The stones, to him, always seemed to have strange, hollow faces, and he stared into them now as he wondered what events would unfold during The Choosing come the next day. 

Galen sighed and turned to leave when something caught his eye that made his eyes gleam excitedly. There, by the base of the stone at the border, were two plants well-known to him - emberleaf and silverroot, both rare and only found beyond the border in the Fields of Ar’Noir because they could only grow where beast’s blood had been spilled. Approaching these plants as if they were timid creatures, he knelt and quietly harvested the plants, tenderly wrapping the roots and still living plants in a cloth he dampened with his waterskin, silently hoping he could manage a successful relocation of these precarious plants. He looked out to the shadows beyond and, for a moment, swore he saw some hulking figure looking back at him, leaving him with the sensation that it was time for him to go. 

Items in tow, Galen turned back to the forest and began the journey back, retracing his steps as the light of the day began to wake the world. One path led to the next and then to the next. Soon, the man found himself on the familiar herding paths that overlooked his home on North Hollow. 

The simple structure nestled among the few trees near the town and among the flowers and herbs Galen had cultivated carefully. It was a stable building held together by the beauty of vines and roots. It was a home he’d known all his life, and he intended to keep it that way. 

Galen had just managed to crest over the threshold of the home through the quieter of the two doors into the kitchen when he heard a scream rip through the herb scented air. It was a shriek he was all too familiar with, but it still raised alarm as he charged forward and ascended the ladder into the loft where his and his ward’s bunk were tucked. 

The teen shivered in her bed, curled in on her side from under the quilt he’d placed on her, as Galen crouchwalked past the low ceiling and knelt beside her, calloused hands grasping her shoulders as he gently shook her awake. 

“Lira. Lira. Sshhhh it’s okay. It’s okay.” He watched her eyes flicker open as they darted around, searching for some unseen entity that was undoubtedly an element of her torment. Her head whipped around, eyes wide as they met his, as she sat up and instinctually curled into Galen’s shoulders that dwarfed her slender frame. Her dark hair, dampened with sweat, clung to the back of her neck as she steadied her breathing, face nestled in the leathers that absorbed the scents that Galen carried with him. 

“I-it… it was awful, Galen,” she breathed. 

“Another nightmare?” he asked, feeling the nod she gave into his shoulder. He sighed and held her tighter. “They’re getting more frequent.” 

Lira pulled away from his shoulder, heart no longer pounding like some primitive wardrum, and looked up into her guardian’s calming features. She could see he had been out already gathering herbs, the chill still lingering on his leathers and on the tips of his fingers that rested on her shoulder. The images of her dream flashed in her mind, but shrugged them off as she gazed at him. 

“I know that look,” he said. “Want to talk about it?” 

She shook her head and mumbled, “No, not right now.” 

Galen nodded and smiled tenderly, the cycle a familiar one, before leaning away, resting on his haunches just beside her cot. “Want some tea?” She nodded quietly, a clear signal for him to leave her be for the present. His leg clacked into place as he descended the ladder and began heating a kettle and grinding the necessary herbs. 

He’d barely set their humble table when three heavy knocks rattled the front door. Lira’s head peeked down from the loft as Galen approached and cracked the door a few inches before, shoulders relaxing, allowed the guest to enter. 

“Morning,” greeted Tibs, a friend and neighbor to Galen, who clapped his friend on the shoulder as the door was shut behind him. 

“And to you. Here for pickup?” asked Galen, stepping back toward his kitchen a few paces away. 

“You know it, and any other brews you might have to help ward off this nasty cough going through the town,” Tibs nodded, eyes glancing about perceiving the small home. “And… uh… do you have anything that might… mask scents?” 

Confusion quirked Galen’s brow as he reached over on a shelf on the wall and began collecting bottles and vials from it, a curious look in his eyes as he looked at his friend. 

“Mask… scents? Tibs, what are you up to?” asked Galen, pouch now filled with brews and remedies he’d spent hours creating. 

Tibs’ eyes darted to the door and then momentarily up toward Lira before looking back at his friend. Galen had seen this man concoct odd stunts and puckish mischief all his life, but only now did he detect a hint of fear as he asked for clarification on this odd request. Tibs cleared his throat and leaned forward as if speaking quietly and low would keep the sound from carrying in this humble home. 

“There have been some odd things happening on the border. I’m sure you heard of it. More attacks. More creature sightings. Monsters worse than anything that’s been seen in generations,” said Tibs. “And… you know… with The Choosing tomorrow, I’m hoping…”

Galen’s chuckles cut off his friend as he shook his head disbelievingly. 

“Tibs, you know the whole scent thing with the Colossus is a myth, right?” interrupted Galen. “And yes, I have heard of the reports.” 

“You don’t believe what they’re saying? About more rifts opening? The monsters?” 

“Oh I do,” Galen acknowledged, bag hoisted in his hands as he held it out for his friend. “But I doubt anything I have would do any good. Coin on the table.” 

Tibs fished into a side pouch and placed a small bag of coins onto the table as he muttered, “You’ve been wrong before. Please?” 

Galen observed his friend skeptically, the oddness of his politeness striking him as odd, as an idea popped into his head. Holding up one finger, he rummaged through his cabinets and through the racks of drying herbs until he found the two he was looking for. He spent several minutes grinding the two together before scraping them into a spare jar he had drying by the sink. 

“Alright. No promises that this will work, but it’s something.”

“Oh, heavens bless you,” Tibs cheered. “Truly a life saver. Now, I have to get back before Reilah has my head.” He slung the pack over his shoulder and paused at the door, looking back at his friend. “Good morrow, and may fortune favor you.”

“And you,” Galen replied, knowing full well his friend referred to The Choosing. 

Once more alone with his ward, Galen sat down heavily in his chair, the stump aching subtly, as Lira joined him at the table. Her fingers wrapped around the cup filled with the freshly brewed tea, knees pressed to her chest. She looked small, smaller than Galen had seen since she first came to live with him nine years ago. 

He said nothing, knowing her quirks and that any attempt at prying would have the teen retreat despite years together. He scratched at the scruff along his jaw as Lira sipped her tea, looking up at him after nearly an hour. 

“Is it true? The monsters getting close?” 

“I’ve heard reports of such,” nodded Galen. “More than usual, but it happens sometimes.” He paused and watched her reaction keenly. Her mouth opened and closed, but she looked toward the door as another shadow appeared from beneath the door. The temptation to ask lingered like a cloud, but Galen withheld his questions to answer the door once more. 

For the next few hours, Galen attended to neighbors and friends requiring brews and bottles of herbs until the day was practically spent. Quietly, Lira assisted, keeping whatever thoughts private, until the sun sank low and the two curled into their separate bunks. Only in the quiet of night did Lira speak up.

“Galen?”

“Yes.”

“I’m… I’m worried about tomorrow.”

Galen turned toward his ward, seeing only her back as she faced the wall, as he asked, “Why?” 

“My… my dream. I saw it - the monsters… and eyes. Large, piercing eyes.”

Galen, something stirring in him, leaned over and gave Lira’s bunk a nudge. “Hey, it was just a dream. Okay? And don’t worry about tomorrow. It’s the whole town, and only a select few from that are meant to walk before The Choosing. Okay? We’re going to be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Silence was the response. 

“You believe me, right?” asked Galen. 

“Yes, always. I just…” Lira sighed. “Nevermind. Get some sleep, Galen.” 

The answer wasn’t a satisfying one, but one Galen hoped to receive clarity for in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time Lira needed the night to contemplate her words. Keeping his eyes fixed on her as his vision grew darker, he remembered the solemn promise he’d made to his friend and repeated it as he drifted out of consciousness. 

“I’ll keep her safe. I swear it.”

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