Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [107]
The ground beneath his feet was soft, and comfortable to walk on. Humus, that’s what it’s called. Dad taught me on a camping trip when I was in first grade, was it?
The ground was covered with rich green moss, and low, leafy plants with pretty white flowers. Grass was growing everywhere—soft and thick, it felt like velvet to the touch. He looked closer and saw traces of a path worn by the passing of many feet. It wound off through the woods, heading into the distance.
Wataru took a deep breath and began to walk down the path. He heard another birdsong, like a whistle, off somewhere in the woods. Wataru whistled, trying to mimic it, then waited. The bird replied, the end of its song lifting as though in question.
Fwee, fwoo, fololo?
Wataru mimicked the call again. For a moment, there was silence. Then the bird answered. Fwee-fee, fwolololo fwee! Fwee fwololo fwee fwee fwoolulu!
He shook his head and laughed. “Okay, okay. You win. There’s no way I can do that.”
The bird gave a satisfied-sounding chirp.
Walking further, he came to a place where the path zigzagged through the undergrowth. There was a clearing ahead.
In the open space sat a small hut, with a red roof and stumpy chimney. Behind it was another, and another. A village.
Wataru walked up to the nearest structure. He now counted five houses standing in the forest clearing. They looked practically identical, with one exception: smoke was rising from the chimney of the nearest hut. Wataru climbed three steps of cut logs to stand before a small log door.
“Hello?”
There was no reply. White smoke drifted lazily from the chimney. A pleasant smell of burning wood hung about the house. Wataru sniffed at the air.
“Is nobody home?”
Suddenly the door swung out with a bang. Wataru was so surprised he lost his balance, slipping on a step and falling on his rear in the grass.
An old man wearing a long robe stood holding open the door. “Foolish question, boy!” he snapped.
Without thinking, Wataru pointed at the old man. “You!” The wizard from the Porta Nectere! The color of his robes was different, but there was no mistaking that voice and wizened face.
But his eyes looked menacing, and he seemed much grumpier than he had been when Wataru met him before. He glared at Wataru, and began to frown. “Were nobody home, how could they answer? Tell me that! Wasted words, boy.”
“Um…” said Wataru, still squatting on the grass.
“More waste!” the old man shouted to the heavens. Wataru feared that the spray of spit flying from the old man’s mouth would fall on him. “If you mean yes, say yes. If you mean no, say no. What kind of a word is ‘um,’ anyway? And why would you say it, but to follow with a proper answer directly afterward? More waste!”
“Um, but I…” Wataru began, stopping short when he saw the old man’s face go red. He began clawing at his breast with wrinkled hands, spitting furiously.
“No, no, no! A criminal waste of words! Stay where you are, miscreant, and I shall mete out proper punishment!”
Robes swirling, the old man dashed back into the hut. As Wataru stared, dumbfounded, he returned, swinging a heavy-looking cane with both hands. “Prepare yourself!”
Wataru shrieked, shot to his feet, and began to run.
“Wait! No running!” Protesting, the old wizard gave chase. Wataru ran in a circle around the standing huts, like he was playing a schoolyard game of tag. The old man seemed incredibly lively for his age, and his anger never seemed to lessen, nor did he run out of breath. Wataru was afraid he might actually be caught. Panicked, he ran to the edge of the clearing, up against the forest and stopped. There was nowhere else for him to go. He was cornered.
He glanced to the side to see the back door of the rearmost hut directly to his right. Dashing past the fuming wizard, he ran for the door. The small log door opened smoothly inward, and Wataru tumbled inside the hut.
He saw a small chair, a table, and a thin blanket on a hard-looking