Chapter 7

Version 2.0

As the day waned and the last few hours of the winter sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, Brandon concluded his chores in the barn. The rhythmic sounds of animals settling into the night echoed around him as he secured the pens and ensured the sheep and poultry were comfortable. Satisfied with the tasks completed, Brandon made his way back through Winterhaven's narrow streets. The village was nestled against the backdrop of snow-laden trees, as smoke curled from chimneys into the twilight sky.

Upon reaching his home, Brandon found the door creaking open to the inviting aroma of a hearty meal with the glow of the fireplace and a simple, feast awaited, its savoury scent filling the room. Alys beamed with excitement, while Torrhen offered a tired yet contented smile. As they settled in for dinner. 

With the meal all finished up, Brandon removed his work leathers and headed out to meet with his friends for the last few moments of light.

"Be back before it gets dark, Brandon," Alarra said.

"I will," replied Brandon, heading out. He did not have much time before it got dark, but he would be able to meet up with Edric and Jon for a bit of fun before the day was over. Bundled in his fur jacket, his shoulders acing, Brandon made his way through the snow-draped streets. The village now encroached upon by the soft glow of light torches and fireplace light escaping from homes.

As Brandon approached the familiar evening meeting spot, a towering oak tree that stood sentinel on the rip of the village, he spotted the silhouette of Edric and Jon against the backdrop of the evening dusk, as they looked to be bickering with one another. 

Edric greeted Brandon with a nod. Jon flashed a mischievous smile, his eyes. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the snow-covered landscape as they found a secluded spot beneath the ancient oak.

"Well, today has been interesting," Edric said.

"Just interesting," Jon smirked. "But Yeah, I always thought they were just tales to keep children from wandering too far into the forest."

"A lot of good that did. I just didn't expect to see one in person," Brandon replied with a grin. "The children of the forest were cool, but what was better was that magic. They talked to the tree, and then poof, awesome berries."

Jon shot Brandon a sly smile, "Is Brandon here hoping to become a magic user by the end of the night?"

Edric chuckled. "That was something, but I doubt we will get to see something like that again."

Brandon's eyes lit up as he started bouncing on his heels. "Well, you can live your life without seeing it again, but I won't. Magic and the children of the forest are cool. The way they live and connect with the woods—it's like something out of a story. Do you seriously not want to see magic again?"

"Probably not. These things are rare, and who knows if they'll let us see their magic again. I mean, it is their secret."

Brandon, looked out into the darkened woods, his eyes looking in wanting need. "Well, I want to see Acorn again, and I want to see magic again," Brandon declared.

Jon, chimed in with a sing-song tone, "Ooh, is someone in love."

"Shut up, Jon. I am not. I just want to see the magic again," Brandon protested, attempting to playfully hit Jon, who deftly blocked the attack with his irritating smile and went to hit him back.

Edic just shakes his head at the two. "Well, I seriously doubt you will see it again, as you need to head into the forest for that. And it's dangerous. You saw that dire wolf; it looked mean."

Brandon mumbled through the struggle with Jon as he started to wrestle with him, "Then that just means I need to convince Halvar again."

"You're not going now, are you? You're not that dumb, are you?" Edric questioned.

"Why do you even need to ask? He is that dumb, but I know he won't because he is a little mummy's boy," Jon interjects.

"Rich coming from you, defender of the inn, protector of mummy," Brandon retorted, finally breaking free from Jon's grip. He retaliated by tickling under Jon's armpits, causing Jon to squeal with laughter.

"Edric, get him," Brandon urged, seeking revenge for Jon's many past wrestling matches. Edric finally joined in the fray, and soon, the three friends found themselves entangled in a playful childish match beneath the moonlit sky.

/

Unbeknownst to the boys deep in the forest, a gathering was happening. Deep in the heart of the ancient forest, where the trees stood tallest and widest, a gathering unfolded beneath the boughs of a towering heart tree. The air felt thick, and humid despite the cold winds which ebbed and flowed around the tree like a river.

Majestic and ancient trees, their gnarled branches intertwined with every tree around them in a massive, connected maze, letting only selected light onto the center of the grove. Here stood the heart tree, a weirwood with a face intricately carved into the living wood. The face, marked by blemishes that made the face, gazed out with hollowed eyes that followed you, crying red sap as it did so, flowing like tears of blood from the deep cuts it had seen.

The Children of the Forest gathered around the heart tree, their forms mingling with the natural world, they engaged in their beautiful language, whispers that resonated with the winds and the birds. Cloaked in the mysteries of their rituals, the weirwood trees, silently witnessed, stood watch, and observed it all.

Amidst the grove, four Children of the Forest gathered, their forms blending seamlessly with the verdant surroundings. The first Child, with a crown of leaves adorning their flowing hair, moved with fire in their step, rushing towards everything. Their eyes sparkled white, as they danced to the rhythm of the forest.

The second Child, adorned with intricately woven vines, was still and unmoving as they waited. Their eyes boar into everyone around, and as they spoke in the odd language of the Children, though still beautiful was much deeper and guttural.

The third Child, adorned with vibrant flowers and moss, was the only one in the group to have a permanent smile. Their laughter echoed through the grove like a playful breeze that rustled the leaves above, and in their gaze lingered the secrets of hidden glades and forgotten paths.

The fourth Child, with luminous fungi growing in their hair, slowly swayed as the winds passed them by. Their eyes gleamed with the soft luminescence of the moonlit night, as their eyes remained unfocused looking elsewhere.

As these four Children gathered, an elder among them stood as they all fell silent before them. Clad in a cloak woven from the finest forest fibers with many repairs and flowers adorning it, their eyes, though weathered by the passage of time, still held the sparkle of wisdom deep within. The Elder Child observed the gathering watching the debate between them all before putting his word forward.

As the Children of the Forest communed beneath the ancient canopy of weirwood trees, their whispered conversations echoed through the sacred grove. The luminescence of their eyes flickered like stars in the night sky, as they bickered back and forth.

The elder Child, standing amidst the gathering, raised their hands in a gesture that spoke of the end of the argument. The other Children, their eyes alight with the ethereal glow fell silent.

In the heart of the grove, the face of the weirwood gazed upon the assembly, its eyes seemingly following the dance of the Children. As the angelic language of the Children filled the air, the grove itself seemed to respond, leaves rustling in a chorus of approval. The winds kicked up as the air became thick enough to taste.

In the culmination of their gathering, the Children of the Forest raised their voices in a harmonious hymn, a melodic understanding of their decision, woven from their collective understanding and discussion. The elder Child, with a profound nod, acknowledged the decision seeing it as best for the children of the forest.

And as the last echoes of their song faded into the stillness of the ancient grove, the Children dispersed, their forms merging once more with the shadows and whispers of the woods. The weirwood, the silent sentinel, continued to watch over the sacred space, its face carved in perpetuity.