He awoke. That was the first surprise. He didn’t feel like his body was trying to rip itself into a hundred pieces. That was the first pleasant surprise. As he stood up he realized he was naked. The world was full of surprises.

Trees stood tall on every side of him. The smell of rich loam filled his nose. Ambient twilight filled the air, filtered down through the deep green leafy canopy. Tangled roots dug deep into the arboreal carpet. Somov wiggled his toes down into the soil. At least it was warm. He couldn’t figure out what direction he needed to go without knowing where he was. And in the twilight, he couldn’t determine which direction was which. He decided to call the direction he was facing north. Now that that was decided, he headed west.

He walked for what felt like an hour, though the sky didn’t appear to be getting much darker. Thankfully it was warm and the forest floor was soft on his exposed soles. He tried to determine a tree which was climbable and could give him a good view of the sky, just so he could orient himself properly. He found an old gray ash tree which seemed taller than the surrounding forest. He only slipped twice, catching himself both times and had to rest once. Mirovich would have flown up the tree, the older boy had spent so much time exploring the forest around Havenhill. Havenhill… That’s where he was from. Then how did he get here? Who was Mirovich? He shook off the questions, purged the face of a dark-haired youth with smiling brown eyes from his mind and tried to climb another foot. Just a little further and he could get a look around.

He got to the top of the tree, the bark was much rougher than the forest floor and he decided against sitting. The tree shifted slightly under him, threatening to knock him off. “Oh just let me look around” he muttered to the tree. The tree settled as he stopped wiggling. Unfortunately, the leaves of the boughs were still in the way. “Oh, come on!” he punctuated this statement with an expletive. Cvita would scold him for it if she heard him. Whoever that was. He sighed and resigned himself to climbing another tree, perhaps in another copse. As he lowered himself, he felt a prick in his palm and he slipped. He fell, tumbled sideways and caught himself with his ribs on a lower branch. The wind abandoned his lungs. As he hauled himself onto the heroic branch to sit and catch his breath, he noticed that from this angle, he could get a proper view of the sky. It was not what he’d expected.

In one direction the horizon was dark and sprinkled with stars. The crescent moon gleamed just off center in the sky. A band of twilight covered the middle third of the sky, and an expanse of inky blackness spread across the rest. No light escaped. where the horizon should continue, it just ended.

After catching his breath and acclimating to the new view, he looked for a landmark to head to. There was a gap in the canopy, it didn’t seem very large, but it was close maybe ten or fifteen minute’s walk. Thankfully the underbrush wasn’t very thick.

Somov made a mental note of the location and began down-climbing. He moved with care, making sure he didn’t slip again. He reached the bottom without further incident.

Twigs snapped underfoot as he traipsed toward his destination. He felt much better now that he had a goal. He wished he had a plan, but there was nothing for it right now. If there’s nothing in the clearing, I’ll just find another tree to climb, his ribs twinged at the thought, or maybe not. He listened to his footsteps, occasionally rubbing his soft soles, he wasn’t used to walking about barefoot. Not that he remembered walking around not-barefoot. The thicket was silent except for his footfalls. Which seemed strange, but he couldn’t place why. After all, why should there be anything other than trees in the forest?

He passed the time trying to remember his past in Havenhill. His memory was spotty, but he was pretty sure that the Abbey was home. Mirovich was his friend, and that he wasn’t very good at what they do there. What exactly it was that they do, and why he was bad at it still escaped him, but he was moderately sure they would come back. Where he was, why he was there and how he got there still escaped him completely.

As far as Somov could tell, it slightly less than half-an-hour before the trees thinned in front of him. He could see where the clearing was. Though the brief glimpses of the sky remained unchanged, it didn’t seem to be getting darker or lighter. He peered into the clearing, there was a lean-to standing –leaning?– at the opposite side of the glade. It seemed like a more permanent structure than the name connoted. If there was a cabin where one of the walls doubled as the roof, that would describe the structure. It looked like it was supposed to be a temporary shelter, and then whoever built it just kept improving it.

"Hello?" he called out. No response. He waited for another twenty heartbeats just to be sure. Then he walked toward the shanty, it had a door, but no windows other than cracks in the walls. He circled it twice, and then knocked on the door. No answer. He leaned in and peered through a crack, there wasn’t enough light to be able to see properly.

"What are you doing there?!" a rough-dry voice rasped from behind him. He started and spun but didn’t see anyone there.

"Um..." he rummaged around in his mind for information about how conversations worked.

"That’s my house!" the voice seemed omnidirectional. They say a thing, then I say a thing, then they say another thing. He digested this thought Got it.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I did call out, though."

"Oh, alright then. I guess you didn’t do any real harm. Yet." The voice was almost like a whisper, but from back in the throat, and it was loud. It was also apparently sourceless.

"Who are you?" Somov stammered, mostly just to distract himself from hyperventilating.

"That’s rather impolite, don’t you think? A name for a name, and yours first. You are the intruder." whoever was speaking seemed much more composed.

"Uh, my name’s Somov." saying it made him feel better.

"Somov," hearing it didn’t make him feel better. "That’s a good name. Very well, you may call me Teru." the disembodied voice replied.

"Teru?"

"Yes?"

"Are you really there?"

"Oh, how disgracious of me. You see," the omnidirectionalness of the voice seemed to be subsiding, it still had the same timbre, but it was definitely coming from Somov’s left. "You had me worried that you might mean me harm, but you don’t seem harmful. So I was hiding."

"Okay, can you come out now?" Somov thought he might feel better if he could see the person he was talking to.

"If I do, you’ll be alarmed. I don’t want you to be frightened. When people are scared, they leave or try to hurt me. It’s very lonely to be eerie."

"I don’t think anything will make me more high-strung than I am now." he felt like a wire being stretched to the breaking point, about to snap.

"Okay, but I want you to know that I wasn’t always like this. Once I wasn’t so different from you." with that the speaker stepped from behind a tree. It was horrible. Somov was wrong, he didn’t feel better now that he saw the disgusting creature before him. The skin on its arms was thin, with a gray pallor where it wasn’t red and raw, its fingers were long with flesh stretched over protruding knuckles. If it stood upright, it would probably be the height of a short woman, perhaps a little taller, but it was hunched over. Thankfully it wore a cloak of earthy browns and greens which hid most of the details, but even still, two large glowing orbs peered out from beneath the hood. "I told you so," it said simply, sadly.

"Sorry."

"For what?" the horrible Teru inquired. "You can’t help it. Don’t worry about what you can’t change." he shambled toward Somov and his cottage on four limbs. It was then that Somov noticed something new, this creature had two extra wrists, and ankles, this made its limbs longer than they should be and look broken. It also had what looked like mutilated hands for feet. Somov almost vomited. "Wait here, I’ll get you something to wear."

Somov waited nervously. He needed help, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick around Teru. He wasn’t sure he wanted to run away from Teru either. Muffled sounds came from inside the shanty, perhaps some sort of cloth moving, then something slammed shut. The heteroclite limped out of the door carrying a bundle of dark blue-gray fabric with one of its ghastly feet. It set the bundle down and slumped to the ground, taking a bone needle and stick wrapped with undyed thread out of its mouth as it did. Then it drew the hood back, revealing a thin-lipped extra wide mouth, earless, bald head. With all four limbs working in tandem, it dextrously sewed a few mismatched wooden buttons onto the fabric, eyeing Somov critically the whole time. "It won’t be pretty, but I guess you don’t have too many options just yet."

He added a few loops of twine for buttonholes. Teru worked twice as fast as anyone Somov had seen, which made sense. He had twice as many hands. When he was done, he offered the cloak to Somov.

Teru was right, it wasn’t pretty. It looked like a curtain with five uneven buttons. But it covered the important bits and made him feel a little better. "Do you accept my gift?" the peculiar creature inquired.

"Yeah, good enough. Thanks." Teru offered a bow in response. "Where am I?" Somov ventured.

"How about a bout of bartering questions?" he asked.

"What?"

"It’s easy, you ask a question, I answer, then you answer a question I ask. It’s a fine game." Somov got the impression that Teru spent a lot of time entertaining himself.

"Okay." Somov began brainstorming more questions.

"You are in the Ash Wood. In the realm of the Gendon. Where are you from?"

"Havenhill Abbey, just east of Sheanor in the country of Cudal." apparently it was occasionally worthwhile to have read an atlas. "What are you?"

"That’s hurtful. I’m a gendel. At least I think I still am. I used to be a gendel." He shrugged. "Why are you here?"

"I… don’t know." He scoured over his memories. Something about a cure, and he was dying, maybe he was dead. "Maybe I’m dead?"

"Was that a question?"

"Doesn’t matter because that was. You owe me an answer."

Teru began prodding him. "I don’t think you’re dead. You don’t look like any of kind of dead person I’ve seen." He lifted Somov’s foot up, his hands were surprisingly soft. "Not gray enough. Besides, you didn’t meet Death. You’d remember him: not very tall, red hair, likes to wear browns, surprisingly good with children." Teru released his foot. "I don’t think you’re meant to stay here. You don’t feel right. What’s your favorite food?"

Somov cocked his head. This didn’t make sense. Why would Teru ask? Why should he care? "Honey cakes. Cvita," a plump matronly face filled his mind’s eye "Always said I had too much of a sweet tooth. Wh—" he stopped himself. He didn’t want to waste his question on why Teru asked his question. He could probably figure that out on his own.

"You were asking a question." Teru prompted at his pause.

"How do I get back to Havenhill?" that seemed like a better option.

"I think you’ll need someone’s help. Someone more potent than I." Teru wiggled uncomfortably, watching him squirm made Somov uncomfortable. "What do honey cakes taste like?"

"Sweet. They’re sticky. We don’t have them very often." time to push Teru. "Can you take me to someone who will take me out of here?"

"Yes," Teru admitted. He kept squirming.

"Will you?"

"It’s my turn to ask a question," Teru said. "Let’s go look for something for you to eat. I imagine you’re hungry."

Somov was. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious for, but it didn’t matter. Teru was avoiding the question. Teru didn’t like the game, so he decided to knock over the pieces. It seemed like there was a new game being played and Somov didn’t know the rules or the stakes. He’d have to unravel game before he lost. It was a good thing he was clever.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7