Chapter 7: Our Woods

Crisryn

It has been another month since my terrible wipeout. Since then, Mother has stopped healing my wounds; she left it up to me to cast the 'Cure' spell on any minor injuries as a kind of training. I didn't mind it. Just using magic was fascinating, no matter how low level it was. You just couldn't do something like this on Earth; healing broken bones in an instant.

"Come on, boy!" Father taunted. "You aren't gonna land a hit on me with that sluggish form!"

Damn you. This is killing me; he's just too good at this!

"Father, you're a strong warrior. How am I supposed to get a clean hit on someone so far ahead of me?"

He shrugged. "You just find a way."

Not helping Dad!!

I spat on the grass and grit my teeth. All of the stress caused me to bite down hard on my back molars, giving me headaches after practice. I did this in my past life as well and it was worse with the deeper grooves in my teeth that I inherited from my mother back then.

I lunged forward, keeping my body low to the ground. Father was a very tall man, so staying low in his blind spot made him have to think twice about how to proceed in the fight. In the month between my first utter failure at earning the Intermediate title and now, I started to pick up on the weaker aspects of his fighting style. Specifically that he was cautious around smaller opponents.

Father could muscle his way through people his size, it was what he was trained to do as a guard. Kids on the other hand, and other smaller fighters, were a different story. I guess he'd never learned how to deal with someone under five feet. It surprised me though. Dwarves are small and typically do battle with melee weapons. I wondered if he struggled with them too.

Anyways, I was becoming predictable; I'd stay low on nearly every attack because I was too cautious to not be sent down the hill like last month. Father picked up on this, opting to kick at me this time instead of using his sword. I noticed early and left my feet, leaping into the air with my arms ready to strike when within attacking distance.

Unfortunately, my reach was far too short. Father's, low sweeping kick spun him around which I thought was a good thing; I was attacking at his upper back, what more could I ask for in a blind spot? What I didn't account for was momentum. Following the kick, was a roundhouse slash that couldn't adjust for. Luckily for me, Ashwood was in a position that automatically contacted the opposing blade and took most of the force alone.

I lost control of my body after that and tumbled to the ground with a sharp pain in my left tricep. The point of his sword had sliced through my skin and caused the wound to draw blood. I gasped and frantically chanted the healing spell Mother taught me.

O' great gods above, grant me the blessing of health and heal the wounds that pain me so: Cure!

The small gash closed forthwith. I let out a sigh of relief.

"You have to be a little more original," Father told me.

I tugged at my bangs and complained, "Nothing can be original if you've seen it all before. The only thing original to you is magic, but even then you won't let me use it."

Father chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Not until you've passed my class. You know the rules, young man."

Young man, right. I'm six, man, don't mock me!

"Ugh!" I pouted. "This is the worst. I'm going over to Chloe's house."

"Well I was just ending today's session anyway. Going over to Chloe's again?"

"Yeah," I answered, "we are going to the pond."

Father stroked his beard and smiled. "I'm glad I introduced you to a great meetup spot! I remember having to cast the line for you; I can't believe you were even smaller back then. Time flies."

What do you mean by "even smaller"? Fun fact, Dad: I'm still six!!

"Thanks," I said softly and pushed past the back door.

Mother was out of the house on a shopping trip downtown so I left a note on the kitchen table that I would be at the pond if she needed me for anything. Most days after practice, Father would be working at the village gates so he wouldn't be able to notify Mother of my location. That would definitely make her worry, having her worry is the worst thing a person could do.

I grabbed the smaller of the two fishing rods and darted out the front entrance, into the cool late autumn air.

If we were going by Earth's calendar, it would be the middle of November right now but Mortalia doesn't really have a set month system in place. Rather they record everything by seasons; I learned that during my studying spree as a toddler. My birth year was 243 P.W, or Post-Weaving. I didn't quite know what that meant, but I assumed it had something to do with religious beliefs.

Apparently, the eras of years like P.W do not last very long. A thousand years at most, or until some big world defining event like a world war or pandemic. Before the Post-Weaving era was the Draconic era abbreviated D.C. Only older full blooded elves lived through that, as well as the surviving dragons themselves. It was a brutal time, I hear, that ended with a great battle. Maybe that's what the "Weaving" was.

I made it to Chloe's doorstep in under a minute by jogging. Knocking softly, it took a moment before thundering footsteps approached. The door swung up as a muscular older gentleman appeared before me with a white comb over haircut and wrinkled skin. He was human; very short for a human but I could tell that he merely shrunk due to his age. His lack of height was made up for by his incredible physique. He shot an irritated expression that sent a chill down my spine.

Who the hell are you?

"Who the hell are you?" the old man asked rudely.

Without thinking I blurted out, "Jinx, you owe me a--" I covered my mouth quickly and cleared my throat. The old man looked at me confused and after a moment tried to slam the door in my face.

I caught the door inches before it clicked into place. "No! Stop! I'm a friend of Chloe's, Crisryn!"

The man stopped trying to shut the door and tilted his head. "Is that so? What was yer name again?"

"Crisryn," I repeated. "Might I ask who you are?"

"Chloe's grandfather," he mumbled, walking into the house with the door still half open.

I followed him cautiously into the living room. The floors were newly cleaned well and dusted. Unlike our house that we tended to maybe once a week if Mother wasn't busy with the local church, Chloe's place was always tidy. Largely in part due to her mother not having a full-time job, but mostly because they have professional assistance with cleaning duties.

When I first saw the inside of the house years ago, I learned the importance of a maid or butler. Mr. David and his wife Shauna hired an old friend to be their housekeeper. I'd occasionally see Maggella, that was her name, roaming around the village square alongside Chloe on a shopping trip if I was out and about with Mother.

She was a proper lady, keeping herself as clean as the houses she worked in. Not a single stain on her uniform or knot in her gorgeous auburn colored hair. Of course, her elven heritage greatly contributed to her natural beauty.

Maggella belonged to a different subspecies of Elf that many people in Mortalia referred to as the multitude of different "Clans". She was a Valley Elf and typically they lived in the various northern valleys; Stockvern was a village in one of these valleys, the Northlake Valley. The actual "Northlake" was called Lake Shallow; the story behind that wasn't very complicated, basically the lake was very shallow so they dug it deeper and poured a ton of new fresh water into it.

My mother was born to a family of Sun Elves, making me half Sun Elf and half human. A common trademark of Sun Elves is their platinum blonde hair, something that I didn't inherit due to my father's dark chocolate brown hair. Elves of the Sun Clan are normally found in larger Elven cities like Mitheas, the capital of the Kingdom of Avallone. Avallone encompasses the Northlake Valley as well, though I hadn't met any of the King's men. I did see a picture of the royal citadel framed on the wall above the fireplace near Mr. David and Mrs. Shauna's room. I wondered if they had any connection to the city.

Nobody was inside the house, but the further I got into the house I started to hear noise coming from past the side door. The old man led me to that door and opened it with a shaky hand revealing a short archery ranger built into their yard enclosed by a little cluster of trees. It was serene; beautiful orange and yellow leaves atop thick tree trunks. A white wooden target with circular red paint was fixated just above my head height. There were three arrows lodged into the outer edges of the target while many others scattered across the freshly cut grass.

"Chloe!" her grandfather called. "Some little runt is here to see you."

I am not the runt you old sack of--

Chloe, who was dead focused on the target in front of her, moved her gaze over to us for a moment. Her determined stare was shattered by a bright smile as she let go of the arrow knocked into the shortbow she held. The shot was far too low, barely lodging into the base of the tree. She dropped the bow and tossed her quiver of arrows to the side, towards Mr. David, and delightfully hopped closer.

Her eyes beamed as she exclaimed, "Crissy!"

She's never going to stop calling me that is she?

I hung my head low and glared at her before facepalming. I sighed. "Hey Chloe. Wanna go to the pond again?"

The girl threw her arms around me, nearly tripping me into the elderly man next to us. The man's eyes intimidated me. I didn't know if that was just his look or the fact that his younger granddaughter was currently hugging me. It didn't matter; the fear would amount into a phobia if I didn't look away quickly.

"Of course!" she said. "Lemme go get changed."

She pushed past me, into her house and ran into her room.

I turned to David and asked, "Were you two in the middle of practice?"

"Don't worry about it, kid," he replied. "We were just wrapping up anyway." He put his hand on my shoulder and gestured to my wooden sword. "So how is your training going?"

"Pitiful," I said. "I can't seem to land a single blow on my father. It's so annoying."

"Ah, I wouldn't get too worked up about it. Your father is a very strong man. Stronger than I am and we both know how big these muscles are."

Gregory chuckled, holding his belly. "Naw, don't kid yourself son. You ain't half as strong as I was when I was yer age."

After about five minutes, she changed into much heavier clothing; they were similar in style to my own. A brown leather jacket over a white button-up shirt. She wore the same tan colored pants that everyone in Stockvern had three different pairs of, but cut them at the ankles as they used to drag on the dirt as we walked to the pond. She tied a pink ribbon at her collar for a little personal flair.

"Come on, Crissy!" she whooped. "Let's get going!"

I nodded and gave David a small wave, being dragged on through the middle of their house.

Our usual route was the same as when we were first taken to the pond by our fathers; cutting through the village square to the western road towards the small forested region right outside the stone walls. At the gates, two guards that we knew were pretty much always stationed; they were given more hours at the gates at our fathers' request since we had started heading out more often. They greeted us with a happy smile and gave me a fist bump, allowing us passage without any hassle.

The woods were calm as ever today. The sound of chirping bugs and a light breeze flowing between the trees soothed my mind, cradling my body with its gentle sway. The pond's fresh water glistened, echoing the sunlight shining down into the clearing.

I took a seat on my favorite rock and reached into my pocket for the container of fishing bait. It was cheap bait and wasn't very effective but I wasn't here just for fishing. We pretty much used this spot as a way to get away from training for a while; spending time in the great outdoors. It helped relieve stress from the frustration of swordsmanship practice. I attached the bait, a small worm, to the line and hurled it into the water. Leaning back, I stared at the sky deep in thought.

I had been grasping the magical side of my training much easier than swords. I really thought that my background in fast paced, high level sports would've helped me a little bit in understanding the footwork and hand-eye coordination but it didn't. While I remembered everything from when I was Blake, my body and brain were as green as the untouched wilderness surrounding me. Learning to be an athlete from scratch was a lot harder this time around, considering I actually started late.

My sports journey in my past life started at age three; you had to start young if you wanted to play Ice Hockey. That is one game that cannot be jumped in and out of, it was a full-time job to us players. When I died at seventeen, I was already an athlete for fourteen years; I forgot what it was like to not be in good shape. This is what being in bad shape felt like. I, as Crisryn, became slow and unaware. Weak and fragile though I kept my sense of diligence. All I could do is keep trying to improve.

"Practice makes perfect, I guess," I said to myself.

Chloe noticed me talking to myself. "What was that?" she asked curiously.

"Oh," I snapped back to reality. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Chloe inched closer to me. "Crissy you can talk to me, this is our woods."

"Right," I said. "It's just that my father is too darn strong. I can't do anything against him and he thinks that I can do everything he can. I don't understand him."

"Does he get mad at you?" she asked.

I answered with a definite, "No."

Clutching the rod firmly, I stood up quickly and nearly bumped into my friend. Walking over to the nearest tree, I unsheathed Ashwood and pointed it towards the base of the trunk.

"What are you doing, Crissy?"

I took a deep breath. "First...for the last time please stop calling me that name. Second..."

I entered the soldier stance and began to hack at the tree as fast as I could with the blade, making tiny dents in its bark. In a blind rage, I slammed my shoulder into the tree full force and knocked myself to the ground. My leg scraped against a small rock. Without healing the wound, I grit my teeth and charged forward with a loud cry.

"Calm down!" Chloe cried.

I had to blow off some steam somehow, away from my parents. I trusted Chloe enough to not tell them and didn't care if my anger scared her. My mission was to take out my frustrations on something sturdy enough to withstand millions of strikes. The tree was perfect.

Slamming the sword into the tree sent a painful ripple through my forearm into my elbow. It burned, and hurt to bend. Tender to the touch and red. I immediately healed the sprain with a cure.

The collision was loud, but not as loud as my screaming. After healing my arm, I stood to have another go. Chloe hastily wrapped her arms around my hips and pulled me away from the tree.

"Dammit, get off of me!" I yelled.

She dropped her back foot and pulled me to the ground, pinning me to the grass with her head. After a minute, our heavy breathing ceased.

Chloe looked me in the eyes and asked tearfully, "Why did you get so mad all of the sudden?"

"I'm sorry I just need a way to vent these feelings without hurting you."

I was telling the truth; I really didn't want Chloe to hate me or think of me as a bully after all this time of being friends. The last thing I'd want was to lose my only friend in a fit of destruction.

She released me from the grapple and sat facing away. I picked up Ashwood and walked over to inspect the damage I dealt to the base of the tree I'd struck. Not too bad, nobody would notice; it proved that my upper body strength was still lacking as well as serving to sadden me further.

What am I supposed to do? Keep getting my ass beat until I'm a teenager? I thought that we would be taking it slow, not throwing me into an actual duel as a preschooler. My body just cannot move as fast as my mind!

My thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a twig snapping. A low growl followed in the twig's wake. I looked back at Chloe, but she was motionless and calm; the growling hadn't come from her.

I raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did you hear that?"

The bushes behind me began to rustle. I jolted, frightened by the sound. Chloe stood and inched slowly towards the pond, getting her shoes soaked. The growling came gradually closer as I tiptoed my way over to Chloe, pointing the tip of my sword towards the source.

The cause revealed itself. An unhealthy, thin, starving wolf with an injured hind leg cautiously stepped into the forest clearing. I gasped. Chloe ducked her head in fear, refusing to look at the canine.

"We've gotta get out of here," I said with a grave tone. "I don't know if he's got a pack."

"I'm scared," Chloe uttered.

My eyes locked on to the wolf. "I know. Even if he's alone, I don't know if we can beat him."

I transitioned into Orthodox Stance and stepped forward. My breathing was off, causing my head to spin. The imminent danger made my stomach churn and I felt like I was about to throw up. The wolf dug its paws into the ground and lowered its body. I halted my pursuit and braced for impact.

Upon its first attack, I felt the whole world grind to a complete stop. All the color of the green trees and the blue sky faded to black and white and then their images faded all together. The clouds remained as well as I, but the landscape was no more.

"Where am I?" I asked myself, lowering the weapon. I then had a realization: I was in the same space as when I died and reincarnated. This was the same heavenly atmosphere; I was standing on air, and listening to nothing.

I know where I am, but...why am I back here?

It took me a moment before remembering Poker's words to me before I entered Mortalia for the first time. I thought that I'd be called back here earlier than this, but not having a god looming over me felt sort of nice.

I remember he said, "No matter what path you choose to lead, I'll be seeing you again soon."