The morning had settled deeper into the Larenweald, warm light resting softly across the moss as Clementine and Tallow walked the narrow path. The forest felt gentler now, though still carrying that faint wrongness Clementine could not quite place.
Tallow Brendyn moved beside her with the steady weight of someone carved from mountain stone. He was shorter than she was, broad-shouldered, sturdy, and warm in a way that reminded her of a hearth fire. His boots pressed firmly into the earth, each step grounding the air around him.
He hummed as he walked. A low, rhythmic tune from the Duskglint Mountains. Clementine recognised it as one of the forge songs he liked. The sound made the forest feel more alive. It also made her feel a little like she should walk on beat, which was deeply uncomfortable, so she pretended she did not hear it.
Tallow glanced up at her with an amused glimmer. “You have that thinking look again.”
“I always have that thinking look.”
“Not true. Sometimes you have the trying not to think look. Completely different.”
She paused. “I do not think that is different.”
“It is. The trying not to think one is more like this.”
He scrunched his eyebrows into a very dramatic impression of confusion.
Clementine stared at him. “I never look like that.”
“You absolutely do. You look adorable.”
She looked ahead quickly before her cheeks betrayed her.
They continued walking until the path opened into a crescent shaped clearing. A fallen log lay across the edge, its bark smoothed by generations of whisperfawns. Clementine liked this place. It felt predictable. The air here stayed still even when the rest of the forest shifted.
Tallow sat first, the log dipping slightly under his sturdy weight. Then he patted the space beside him. Clementine perched carefully next to him, leaving a polite amount of space. Not too much. Not too little. The amount that felt safe.
Tallow watched her brush crumbs from her fingers. “Alright. I have news.”
Her shoulders tensed. “What kind of news?”
“The mountains are sending a few of us down to the lower trade routes. There are rumours of strange Myth Wake activity in the foothills.”
He paused, his voice turning thoughtful. “Some forges have been humming off pitch. We need to check it out.”
Clementine frowned. “Forges do not hum off pitch.”
“Exactly. Which means something is wrong.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
He shrugged with practiced calm. “Dangerous things are just problems wearing dramatic coats.”
She blinked. “I do not know what that means.”
“It means I am going and I could use company.”
Clementine’s heart stumbled. “I would not be good company.”
“You would be exactly the company I want,” Tallow said lightly. “You notice things. You stay calm. You walk quietly. And you tell me when something feels strange, which is helpful.”
“I would be anxious the entire time.”
“I am anxious most of the time. I just express it through snacks.”
Clementine folded her hands in her lap, unsure what to do with the sudden weight of the conversation. “I have responsibilities here.”
“No you do not.”
“It feels like I do.”
“That is different from actually having them,” he said gently. “Clementine, if something is shifting in the Larenweald, it is probably shifting outside it too. And you might understand it better than the rest of us.”
She looked at him sharply. “I do not understand things.”
He met her gaze with quiet certainty. “You understand people better than anyone I know.”
She looked away.
The whisperfawns appeared at the edge of the clearing. Tiny pale creatures flickering in and out like shy starlight. Normally their presence soothed her. Today their movement seemed restless, scattered. They did not linger.
Tallow noticed. “That is not normal.”
“No,” she said softly.
“What do you think it means?”
She hesitated. “I think the forest feels unsettled. And I think whatever is coming here is coming from far away.”
Tallow straightened. Even his stillness felt sturdy, like a stone bracing itself. “Then we should pay attention.”
A faint sound drifted through the trees. Thin. Distant. Not like the Larenweald’s usual morning hum. More like something brushing the world from the outside.
Clementine froze.
Tallow spoke quietly. “You heard that.”
“Yes.”
He stood, the light catching in his beard. “Clemberry. If you want to stay here, I will not go far. If you want to leave, I will walk beside you. And if something dangerous is coming, I will stand in front of you.”
Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice.
“I do not know what to do,” she whispered.
“You do not have to know. You just have to start.”
She looked at the trees, at the familiar green glow, and at the soft gold light that felt less comforting today.
Something was shifting.
She could feel it now like a quiet tremor beneath her thoughts.
She nodded, just once.
Not a commitment.
Not a promise.
But the first step toward one.
Written by C. D. Wynfell
Copyright © 2025 C. D. Wynfell. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce, repost or modify without permission.
