Cerys woke up sore and disoriented. Her body was unforgiving of the many nights spent on the hard ground and it took a while to recall why she was resting her head on a pillow instead of a balled-up, travel-stained shirt. 

Hazy sunlight illuminated the bed and dust motes swirled lazily in the glow. Cerys sat up, the bed-frame creaking under her and the thin sheets pooling around her hips.

In one corner of the room was a wash basin and a ratty towel, draped over the lip and dripping onto the floor. In another, Luvia had carefully placed their packs, leaning them against the walls. It was odd to see their every belonging taking up such little space. They had not taken much with them when they left their old town, of course, Cerys had not anticipated getting lost in the woods.

This far into their journey, she had envisioned them setting up their new lives, renting a room, and finding Luvia a nice bookshop to work in while she made inquiries about smithing apprenticeships. They were supposed to be meeting new people and helping Ainsley make friends. Instead, they were out of food and relying on the kindness of strangers. 

Cerys pushed herself out of bed, the cold floor soothing against her sore, blistered feet. After splashing some nicely perfumed water on her face and finding clothes that could pass for sort-of-clean, she pushed the thin wooden door of the room open and stepped into the small living space. 

Her nose lead her through a quaint sitting room and into the kitchen, the yeasty smell of baked goods making her stomach growl and her mouth water. The house creaked as she moved through it, announcing her approach. 

She found her family happily occupied. Luvia was kneading dough, engaging Iris in a very one-sided conversation and her concerns from the previous night seemingly evaporated. Iris stood beside Luvia, folding a thick-looking spread onto the flat dough and pinching them into pies before placing them over the fire to bake. On the other side of the table, Ainsley was sitting on the floor, happy grunts and squeals accompanying his play. 

Cerys bid Iris a good morning and received a nod in return. She kissed Luvia on the cheek, taking a moment to smudge some flour onto her nose before joining Ainsley in his world. 

Scattered around the smiling four-year-old was an assortment of toys, crude stacking blocks with chipped paint, homespun dolls with fraying hands and feet, a makeshift drum that turned out to be a bowl with a sheet pulled tight over the opening, and a rattle made of a long, thin wooden tube. It was the rattle that Ainsley seemed the most interested in. 

Cerys silently applauded Iris for being in the same room as the enthusiastic, young musician as he shook the tube violently and occasionally smacked it on the floor with an excited outburst. 

She picked up one of the dolls and examined its little body. Its muslin arms and legs were stained with yellowing patches from years of use, and it wore a vest and cropped pants made of the same red fabric as the cushions stacked in the corner. The doll had no facial features and no hair, though curiously, someone had poked sharp twigs through the sides of its head. The lopsided additions vaguely resembled antlers. 

She set the mutilated doll aside and took in the rest. 

One had a tail of string hanging from a slit in the back of its skirt, knotted off and frayed at the end. Another was shirtless, with down feathers sewn securely to its back. The effect looked more like a fuzzy turtle shell than any pair of wings she had ever seen. 

Cerys opened her mouth to ask Iris about the funny little dolls when a heavy knock sounded at the front door and a familiar voice called from outside. 

“Hello! Ya’ll about? I smelt Iris’s famous pies!”

Iris wiped her hands with her apron and went to the door, disappearing into the hallway. 

When she returned, Lucky was beaming behind her, red-nosed and glassy-eyed. 

“Mornin’ ma’am,” he nodded to Luvia who was still wrist deep in dough. 

“Ma’am,” waving now to Cerys. 

His smile somehow grew when he spotted Ainsley, “Ah, little sir!” he exclaimed.

Ainsley ignored the man, continuing his quest of making the most noise he could with the rattle stick.

Iris returned to her work, motioning Lucky into a chair at the table. The chair groaned in protest at the tall man’s weight. 

“Good morning, Lucky,” Cerys called over the racket, “what brings you so early?”

Lucky set his fingers to tapping out a rhythm on the table, the thuds sounding like accompanying drums to Ainsley’s performance. 

“Talked to the chief, they want to meet ya, figure out how we can help ya on yer way.”

Bits of dough flung across the room as Luvia spun around. “That sounds wonderful! We would love to meet them.”

“Great!” Lucky beamed, “I’ll take ya over after breakfast.”

Ainsley’s head popped up at the clatter of Iris placing a dish of fresh pastries on the table, his soft blonde hair flopping into his doe eyes as he abandoned his concert in favor of food. He scrambled over to the table, clinging to the lip and stretching to his toes to reach the steaming, buttery pies. 

Cerys rose from the floor with painfully popping knees, the dolls laying forgotten. She tucked Ainsley’s untamed hair behind the pink shells of his ears, kissing the top of his head and taking in the warm, summer scent of their son. 

She slid the plate closer to his anxious fingers. They landed on one at the bottom of the stack and as he pulled it free, the rest of the tower tumbled. 

A booming laugh burst from Lucky at the destruction and Luvia began to apologize to an unbothered Iris. 

Ainsley, satisfied with his success, planted himself back on the floor and began to tear apart the gooey goody. It didn’t take long before the dark purple filling was dripping down his chin and smeared across his cheeks. When he reached for another, Luvia swept in with a damp cloth before he could retrieve it. 

The group ate and chatted, save for Iris and Ainsley who ate and watched in silence. 

With breakfast eaten and the table cleared, Cerys, Luvia, and Ainsley set off with Lucky. 

~~

The hamlet had come to life when the sun rose. On their way to the chief, Lucky pointed out other people who were going about their mornings, mentioning who grew the food, who managed outside trade, and when a small group of children ran past, he pointed out Dharma. 

The young woman was trailing after the group calmly, her cinnamon hair pulled back into a plait with a bit of string and hanging over a slender shoulder. When she saw Lucky, she raised a bronze hand in greeting before disappearing into the woods after the children. 

“Where are they going?” Luvia asked, clutching Ainsley as he watched the other kids run into the trees. 

“Off to play,” Lucky replied, “Dharma keeps ‘em during the day, teaches ‘em how ta ‘preciate what we have and explore our ways.”  

“So… like a school?” Luvia inquired.

Lucky looked confused, “A- a skewl?”

“You know, children go each day to learn their letters, their exchanges, and other skills. A place of learning.’ Luvia explained. 

“Ah!” Lucky exclaimed, understanding lighting in his lily-pad eyes. “Ya, then, like a skewl.”

~~

The chief was in an open-air pavilion leading what looked to Cerys to be stretching and meditation class, 

Gauzy fabric hung from the wooden supports, blowing idly in the cool breeze and an assortment of hand-made chimes orchestrated the participant’s movements.

Lucky seamlessly joined the group as Cerys and Luvia watched. Ainsley was entranced by the clinking chime, his eyes wide in wonder. 

The group stilled, sitting silently as an earthenware bottle was passed around and lifted to parted lips.  Their session was closed with a chant that reminded Cerys eerily of her and Luvia’s mantra.

“We are vital. We are valued. We are community.” 

After the group disbanded, Lucky motioned them into the pavilion to stand before a cross-legged figure in flowing linen clothing. Their deep-set, emerald eyes gazed thoughtfully from their tanned face and thick, ebony hair curled under their earlobes. Cerys’s eyes were drawn to the many twigs, flowers, and leaves that were intertwined through their hair with a plethora of different colored strings. The effect was wild and dignified. 

“Cerys, Luvia, meet Chief Zy.”

Lucky turned to the chief, placing two fingers to his heart, and bowing his head. “Chief Zy, meet Cerys, Luvia, and their boy, Ainsley.”

Zy nodded in greeting, spreading their darkly stained lips in a potent grin. 

“Welcome to our community,” their voice was dynamic, spicy-warm, and spine-chillingly cold all at once, “Lucky has told me that you have found yourselves without direction in our woods.”

Luvia spoke up first, mimicking Lucky’s bowed head. “Yes, we are grateful to Lucky for finding us and for Iris’s hospitality. But we are out of food and quite lost.”

“We are keen to assist those who have lost the way,” they said.  “Though we are a small community, and such aid cannot come freely given.”

Cerys cut in before Luvia could reply, meeting the chief’s eyes. “We are willing to do our part to repay your people’s kindness. However, we really need to be back on our way to Slybourne rather quickly.” 

Zy flicked their gaze to Lucky who tilted his head to the side in thought before holding up three fingers. 

“Your journey is far from complete,” they said matter-of-factly, “as there remains at minimum another turning of the moon before you will reach your destination.” 

Cerys felt her stomach drop to her feet and the color drain from her face. 

A month? How had she gotten them so hopelessly turned around?

“But…” Cerys started, scrambling to understand what they were telling her. “We were supposed to be there in only a few weeks,” she sucked in a sharp, catching breath, fighting off frustrated tears. “How could we have gotten so lost?”

Zy’s eyes slanted in a way that made her feel like a mouse at the feet of a great cat, “The trees have a way of disorienting even the most seasoned of travelers. They are selfish and mischievous.” 

Luvia moved closer to Cerys, pulling her into a one-armed hug, squishing a squirmy Ainsley between them. 

Cerys tucked Ainsley’s head under her chin and accepted her wife’s comforting gesture.

“Worry not,” they continued, “after a week in our care we will see that you have what you need to fulfill your purpose.”

“We will make your help worth the time,” Luvia answered as Cerys grappled with this catastrophic news. “Put us to work and let us repay your aid.”

The chief smiled at Luvia, plum mouth stretching into a sated smile. 

“Very good,” they said, waving Lucky forward, “Show them to Dharma. The young one can join the other children while we find his mother’s work.”

With that, Lucky shepherd them out of the ethereal pavilion and to their sentences.