She‘d waited a whole day and night and now she was going to leave and discover on her own just what was going on. The defenders were long gone and she’d have to catch them up. She wasn’t sure how many hours it would take and she would have to be careful, because if any of the defenders spied her she would immediately be sent home and she didn’t want that to happen. She was quite adept at tracking so she had no doubt she’d find their trails and make sure she kept away from them when she was too close. Making a mental note of everything she’d need and what direction she’d take as she stared out of the window she saw someone she’d rather not see heading toward her door.
As if Fern hadn’t had enough unwanted visits with Elm having slunk his way in the day before, Willow now made an appearance in Fern's humble home. She wafted into the room like she was on a breeze, her hair flowing slightly behind her as she moved, her long dress gathered at the front by her fine fingers, showing beneath her small feet and slim ankles. Everything about Willow was delicate and it made Fern annoyed that her appearance showed girls to be the weaker sex.
Dropping the dress in front she looked around the room for a place to sit whilst Fern eyed her carefully, trying to mask the lack of welcome at the arrival of her guest.
“What can I do for you Willow?” she asked trying to keep her voice light, even though it had been growing heavy of late with the stresses of the day before.
She watched Willow decide to sit at the table, pick up her dress skirt once more and glide toward the chair of her choice. Once she had gracefully sat down she indicated to the chair opposite for Fern to join her.
Taking a breath for patience Fern obliged sitting with a hand resting on the table, her other hand dropped to her side and her legs stretched out relaxed before her. Willow's hands were resting upon her knees, her legs tucked off to one side under her chair and crossed femininely at her ankles. She leaned forward toward Fern her eyes taking in her appearance and Fern thought checking her aura.
There was little that she’d be able to hide from Willow, her eyes were already giving that soft sympathetic show of concern that she always gave Fern whenever she came to visit. Let her see my anger instead thought Fern as the feelings welled up inside of her and she saw Willow taken aback for a few seconds.
Taking her eyes away from Fern she looked toward the window as if looking for a distant source to help her speak. She brought her light blue eyes back to Fern but this time Fern saw Willow's emotion in them, not a reflection of what Fern was feeling. Willow's usually soft delicate features were tight, even her small up turned nose was twitching slightly and Fern realized that whatever Willow had to say was causing her difficulty and distress
She leaned forward suddenly making Willow jump slightly and moved her face close questioning her again. “What can I do for you Willow?”
Her eyes widened a little and Fern could see fear in them which caused her to be confused. Why would Willow be afraid of her? She’d never struck her or threatened to strike her. Yes, she was angry and felt like beating her fist upon something but it wasn't Willow, it was Oak and Elm and her own frustrations.
She softened her eyes and did something she would never have done before, she took Willow's hand. Looking sincerely into her eyes she said, “Willow let me know what is wrong and I will try to help as best I can.” She was surprised when Willow quickly looked away and gave a small gulp. Still she waited, calming her own thoughts; she’d deal with them at another time. Right now she needed to know what was bothering Willow so much that her normally serene face and body were anything but.
“Willow,” she leaned even closer, “trust me, I won’t hurt you and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what troubles you.” She’d softened her voice to almost a caress and surprised herself at the empathy in her words.
With the tables turned Fern felt more confident and decided to push on. Whilst doing so she became another person, someone she’d never known before, a person that interested her.
Gently squeezing Willow's hand she went on, “Willow there have been many occasions that you have come to me seeing me in distress and tried in vain to help me. I’m sorry Willow for never being grateful.” She had to choose her words wisely because she had in fact been quite rude at times but this wasn’t an occasion for asking for forgiveness, it was a time for diplomacy, to wield from Willow the words she was unable to say.
“I’m distressed from yesterday's presence of the Citans. I have felt a lot of anger lately but not toward you, toward others that have treated me wrongly.”
To Fern's surprise Willow's head quickly came up and with a fervent voice she asked, “Is it because of Oak?”
Fern didn't want to touch the subject; she’d had enough of Oak in her head for one day and preferred something different to talk about.
“Yes it is but it’s of no consequence right now.”
With concern in her eyes she squeezed Willow's hand once more and looked into her saddened eyes.
“What is of consequence is what ails you.” She watched Willow pull in her bottom lip in thoughtfulness and Fern pressed on knowing that Willow's resistance was deteriorating. “Why are you so upset Willow?”
To Fern's discomfort tears surfaced into Willow's eyes, the droplets forming on her lower lash and then trailing down her pale, drawn, face. Even more shocking was Fern's reaction, she stood up and moved beside Willow where she crouched down placing her arms around her adversary, holding her while she silently wept. With patience that Fern didn’t know she had, she waited until Willow's last small sob sunk in a final shiver.
As Fern held onto Willow she felt Willow's hand touch her face and stay there. She felt uncomfortable with the gesture but didn’t want to offend Willow by pulling away.
“What I have to say,” She whispered, “will upset you too.”
This gave Fern an excuse and she pulled herself up and sat down in her own chair. She contemplated the words and knew what was coming before Willow said anything. The only upsetting thing in her life was Oak.
Sitting she stared at Willow with eyes that told her she was ready.
“I don’t want to cause you more sadness.” Fern raised an eyebrow as Willow went on, “I know he’s brought you enough already, I can see it.”
Fern sat still, remaining quiet, just waited. “I know you love him Fern.” Willow faltered here and when she continued her face was pained once more. “He loves you too.” As she spoke the last two words were barely audible.
Fern's heart began to thrum against her ribcage and her mind began to spin with images of Oak. Had he told Willow that he loved her, that he loved Fern? Told her that she was the only one for him, just as she’d always dreamt he would say to her? Her face was eager now and she saw the look of surprise upon Willow's face as she hastily added, “he won’t admit to it Fern. He won’t let himself believe it!”
Her own face became tight and drawn as she clamped her lips together after Willow's last expressive words.
“He hides his feelings from himself.” With this Willow dropped her head again, whilst Fern with a look of disappointment stared at the top of her head.
Fern waited once more for Willow to collect herself to continue, a foreboding was developing within her chest and she almost felt like running away but she didn't, she stayed strong, straight in her chair waiting for the blast she knew was coming.
Slowly, Willow raised her head and looked at her with pleading eyes. “He came to see me before he left with the defenders.” She took a quick breath, “I misunderstood his intentions, as his aura was of anger, love and passion. I misconstrued his feelings, I thought his anger was for the Citans and his love and passion were for me. Why else would he be there before he left but to say goodbye to the one he loved?”
Her eyes were large with the look of someone who’d stepped on something sharp as she saw Fern's body become rigid and heighten a little.
“He sat next to me with love in his eyes and I showed my love for him in my own.”
Fern jerked a little and Willow leaned back in distress. Taking a deep breath Fern waved for Willow to go on, unsure that she herself could speak. Willow faltered for a second and continued, “he saw what was there and he kissed me.”
The anger that shot through Fern would have melted iron, her breathing became shallow but still she sat quietly, her hands now fists as she fought for self control. Willow sped on knowing she had to finish what she’d started.
“At the end of the kiss I realized that his passion wasn’t for me. The kiss was gentle and kind but it didn’t show what blazed within him, too late I saw that it was for you, that it had never been for me!” Her voice had risen as she struggled to keep her sobs under control and her own distress at her mistake.
Fern's body relaxed a little and she even felt a sense of elation until Willow said, “He asked me to be his partner.”
At this Willow's head dropped and all Fern could do was stare in shock and horror at the silver blond head before her. But he loved her–Fern! Willow had just told her that, he loved her, yet he’d asked Willow to be with him when his passion was for her. Why would he ask Willow? She knew why. It was because Willow loves him, needs him, and dotes on him and most of all because she is obedient.
As Fern looked upon the nodding head of Willow who was sobbing once more, the answer came to Fern with the taste of bile in her mouth. He didn’t see Fern as a fit partner for the leader of the Woodlanders but he saw Willow as one. The dawning of a knowledge that had been known all along was painful to bear and her shoulders slumped at the weight of it. Her only love, the person who truly loved her for herself, wouldn’t accept her as a partner because of whom and what she was.
Now all the words that he’d said to her fit into place, including his cruel final cut off of their relationship at the end. Without seeing her rise Fern felt Willow beside her and the roles were reversed as Willow stood with her hands upon Fern's shoulders, gently stroking her hair to calm her. “I didn’t say yes.”
The words hung over Fern for only a second before her head came up and she stared at Willow, looking at her face in relief.
“I told him that I could see his passion was for you Fern and that he needed to decide for whom his love was stronger.”
Fern stood up and turned to face Willow with hope in her eyes. Maybe he did love her most; maybe there was a chance that he’d let his love for her win. Her face clouded. No, she knew Oak, stubborn, controlled, hating to show his emotions, always quelling any that should chance to arise from beneath the rubble of stones that he’d pushed upon them. She saw Willow's look of surprise as Fern's expression changed. She quickly arose and moved away from Willow, walking to the middle of the room.
She was scouring the room, searching for the words that were firing through her mind, destroying her very chance of happiness with Oak.
Turning she looked at Willow, “Oak will never be my partner Willow.” Her eyes felt tears pricking to escape. “He’s ashamed of me and what I am; he’ll never allow himself to take such a girl as his partner.”
“No! No!” Willow sputtered stepping toward her but Fern had raised her hand into the air to halt her in mid stride.
“He loves everything about you Willow, the way you are, your gentleness, kindness, your acquiescence to his guidance, how the people love you. He sees you as the most perfect person to have at his side.”
“But that’s wrong,” Willow expressed, “when his passion is for you.”
“Passion like the embers of a fire fades into nothing but ashes in time, and our wise leader sees this. His intelligence tells him that he must go for lasting and pure. His love for you is pure, you bring everything good in him to the surface, and you give him strength to be the leader he wants to be. Whilst I...” she quelled a sob, “I bring out all that he deems to be the worst in him.”
“No Fern! You love him, he loves you, and how can anything wrong come from that?” Willow's voice was filled with disbelief now and Fern turned away from her in order to gather herself to give her a reply.
“It isn’t what you or I think that matters here. It’s what Oak thinks and believes. I’ve known Oak intimately for many years as a friend and almost as a sibling. It’s only the last few years that our relationship has changed and as adults our love for one another has become...” she struggled for words, “has become a passion between a girl and boy but it is from anger and dissimilarity, even hate.” She dropped her head in defeat feeling like she’d wrenched her soul from her body as she listened to Willow’s response.
“Hate and love can be the same thing. If love is unrequited it becomes hate but the love is still there. Your differences draw you to one another. Your strength against him fills him with desire for you. The hate is love, it is passion, it’s there wanting to surface on both sides.”
Fern was gaping at Willow wishing she could believe her words, wanting to continue loving and hating Oak. She couldn’t. She knew it had to stop here; he’d made his choice there was no point trying to fight for him when he would not concede.
“Oak has strong ideals and beliefs. He’ll never let them be shaken, he lives by them, they are his pillars they cannot be toppled and...” she earnestly watched Willow's face, “and if they were then he wouldn’t be the Oak that we both so dearly love.”
Willows eyes changed a little at her words and then became full of sorrow. Sweeping toward Fern who wanted to run rather than be gathered in an embrace by her, she took Fern to her and hugged her tightly. “Your love is worthy Fern. Oak is making a terrible mistake.”
Gently, Fern pushed Willow away to look at her face. “No Willow he makes no mistake. He is a leader. He makes his choices because of his people not for himself. He does what’s right and Willow before you try to dissuade me from my resolve of letting him go, you must believe that his is the right decision. On his return, if after pondering all that you’ve said he still asks you to join him as his partner, you must give the answer that you want to give without any thought of me.”
“How can I do that?” she cried back, “when I see what lies between you!”
“There is nothing between us. Oak has severed any relationship that we once had.”
“What do you mean Fern?” Willow asked searching Fern's face.
Fern kept her expression closed and firmly set, determined not to break into tears from her destroyed romantic illusion.
“Before he left me at the podium he said our friendship was dissolved, that...that he was going to detach himself from me and have someone else within the clan watch over me. He will have no more contact with me.”
Willows face showed her shock at what he’d said. “How cruel!” she cried, “why would he hurt you in such a way?”
Fern turned her head slightly as she made her reply in a low voice, “Because I told him I hated him.”
“What?” Willow's usually soft, subtle words had turned to a higher piercing pitch.
“I was angry, frustrated with my lot here within the clan. I fit in nowhere Willow! I cannot bear it anymore!”
“You’re loved by all of us,” was Willows response once more soft and soothing, “you’re special to us.”
It was the second time within days that she’d been called special and she quelled her annoyance at it.
“No, I’m foolhardy and annoying! Don't try to lessen my problems; I’ve felt them for a long time now. I’m no master of cooking, growing vegetables, sewing or even caring for children. My patience runs short and my energies are always drawn elsewhere. I don't know my place here but I have to find it because I love my people. I want to be of use to them.”
“You are of use to us Fern. You look out for us all.”
“But not through being elected, only through my own persistence and interference!”
“It hasn’t been recognized what role you have within the clan Fern, but let me tell you it is an important one, a necessary one. You’re needed please believe that.”
Fern looked at Willow, questions still within her, but didn’t say anything. Her face was stretched tight with stress. “I’ll leave today to go in search of the Citans.”
“Yes Fern, you will.”
Fern's eyebrows rose in surprise, “How do you know?”
“No magic Fern, I know you and your ways. You love this clan, you want to protect us and sitting and waiting is not in your makeup.”
Fern gave a small laugh at Willow's conclusion of her character; she was actually beginning to like Willow.
“Please tell no one. Promise me?”
“I promise.”
Stepping toward her once more she grasped Fern's hand in her own and squeezed it gently. “Watch out Fern there are many dangers.”
Upon tiptoe she kissed Fern's forehead, whist Fern cringed internally.
“I wish you well and may everything good be with you and come to your aid when needed.”
With a sweep of her skirt she turned and with silent steps walked through the open door.
The sun was embracing the camp as Fern watched Willow's retreating figure and her own body drooped as the fatigue of their discussion invaded her. Her limbs felt weak and she lunged to her bed as if aggrieved that she might fall down. Upon her bed face down she cried, her sobs unheard as they smothered themselves within the leaves that lay there.
**********
As Oak walked toward the Citan leader, he wondered if he’d just given up his and Blackthorn's lives. It didn't matter; he couldn't let Blackthorn die without trying to save him. He had to talk the Citan into letting him tend to his wound. The closer he got the more pain he could see upon Blackthorn's ashen face.
The Citan had released Blackthorn's throat and sheathed his knife. He was holding him by his hair and neck as if threatening that at any time he would snap Blackthorn's neck sideways and back in a twist to break it. Oak recognized the threat and locked his eyes on the Citan leader's keeping his hands raised evenly until he finally stopped in front of him. The Citan towered over the two of them like a giant from the children's stories he’d read as a child before books had been banned completely. Jack and the Beanstalk had been one of his favourites, especially the idea that little Jack could beat something so large. He doubted that, right now, as he stood before this enormous boy.
“My name is Oak.” He held the Citans gaze and then looked at his captured defender, “This is Blackthorn.” He was going to say one of my defenders but changed his mind, defender was too threatening. “He’s one of my people. We’re the Woodlanders and we live here in this forest.”
“I know that!” growled the leader, “Why have you been following us?”
“I’ll explain everything to you but first please let me attend to Blackthorn before shock and blood loss makes it too late to save him?” He looked pleadingly into the Citan's eyes, he was showing weakness but he didn’t care, saving his defender came first.
The Citan leader nodded his head and relieved Oak went to Blackthorn's side dropping to his haunches to see to his wound.
“Have you checked him for hidden weapons?” One of the Citans asked their leader, pushing his way through the group with an arrogant air as he eyed Oak.
“Detroit, he has nothing upon him, it would be obvious under his tight leather clothing,” the huge Citan answered. Then turning his head slightly to the others continued, “Unless he carries a bag of poison at his crotch, which still wouldn't be a problem since I don’t plan to have him cook for us!”
Laughter roared through the group at the crude joke and Detroit grumbled and moved away in his embarrassment. Oak sensed the discord between the two and recognized that Detroit had notched another strike against his leader.
Releasing Blackthorn from his grasp, his face solemn once more as he stared down at Oak, he ordered, “See to him!”
Blackthorn crumpled as Oak only just caught him in time before he dropped to the floor.
“I have you Blackthorn don’t worry,” he quickly checked the young defenders expression, “I’ll stop the bleeding.”
He gave a brief smile at Blackthorn in his arms who tried to return the smile but his lips barely curled and it came out more as a sneer.
Oak gently placed him on the ground and immediately began to pull away at the remains of his pants. The original cut was two inches above his ankle and sliced straight across his shin. The trap had then ripped down tearing down both sides of his leg leaving the skin hanging loosely; the bloody red flesh looked like a lolling tongue. Luckily the tibia bone was not damaged. It looked as though whatever had cut into him had stopped him whilst running and continued to cut into him as he fell. He realized it would leave a deep scar but only if Blackthorn had a chance to heal, he hoped he would. He had no idea what the Citan leader was planning to do with both of them.
Quickly he removed the bottom of Blackthorn's pant leg; he split it into two makeshift bandages, pulling the flopping flesh back up he carefully placed one of the bandages over it, ripping the other into four more pieces he tied two together of each and then tied one over the top of the bandage and one below to hold it there. It was a poor bandaging job but it was all he had right now. Blackthorn could no longer see the wound which was what he cared about the most, going into shock could kill someone quicker than an infection.
“In my bag I have a substance that helps the blood to clot; I can stop the bleeding with it. Also there are leaves in this forest that I can use to help it heal.” He looked up at the Citan leader to see if he’d heard him. He was staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Oak waited with hope in his heart that this Citan boy was not as cruel and cold hearted as the rumours about the Citans had said them to be. The Citan leader's head jerked up.
“Flint!” he called and a darker skinned boy came forward, he looked Native and Oak stared at him in surprise since he’d never seen a Native American before (only in books). They’d been banished to the confines of their reservations many years ago. They were the only ones who blatantly continued their beliefs in faith, hope and trust. They’d been deemed “a danger to everyone”. The boy gave a small smile at Oak's stares and Oak brought himself out of his brief distraction.
“Go to where the Woodlander dropped his things and bring them back to me. I have your back.” With those words the Citan leader raised his rifle to his shoulder, again taking off the safety and eyed the sight. Watching Flint move carefully through the forest to Oak's possessions he continued to talk to Oak. “My name is Denver I’m in charge of this band. I’m sure you already know that we come from the city.”
“Yes,” Oak replied and heard Denver give a slight grunt as he continued to keep his eyes upon Flint.
Once Flint was at Oak's possessions he quickly and lithely for someone so large dropped to his haunches. He grasped everything in his hands and slowly raised himself upright still scanning every tree, bush and twig around him. Satisfied that he was safe he stepped backwards and continued until he’d returned to Denver. He handed everything to him whilst Denver put on the safety and transferred the rifle from his own hands to Flint's. Flint immediately took the safety off again and scanned the forest with the rifle just as Denver had.
Denver gave the sword and the rope to one of the boys and proceeded to search the bag. He pulled out the blanket and then thrust it back in, pulled out a handful of melini tablets looked at them with distaste and put them back. When he took out the lime he gave a slight smirk toward Oak as he quickly dropped it back into the bag. Finally he pulled out the small green bag of niaphron root powder.
“Is this what you want?” he asked waving the bag toward Oak watching his reaction.
“Yes!” Oak replied and quickly went to grab the bag. Denver closed his hand around it.
“Show me what is inside first.”
Obviously he didn't trust Oak. Perhaps he thought it was a trick and it was filled with a noxious smelling plant that Oak would throw into his face and make him unconscious. Oak opened the tied bag and showed him the yellow powdered contents. He looked at it and nodded satisfied that it was safe and indicated for him to go ahead with what he was going to do.
Oak dropped to his haunches beside Blackthorn, he’d been wafting in and out of consciousness whilst Flint had been retrieving Oak's things. Oak looked fondly upon the boy with the spiky brown hair and small almost flat nose, it was a cute face, not hardened like most of his defenders but he’d proved himself well enough.
“It will be okay my friend,” he encouraged, “I’ll save your life.” To what end Oak didn’t know but he hoped that these Citans were not barbaric and if they were going to kill them, he hoped they’d make it an instant death rather than torture them. He didn't want to save Blackthorn so that he could suffer further later.
Untying the makeshift bandage he kept some pressure upon the wound. Grasping the small open bag in his hand he readied it to pour, whilst his other hand carefully pulled up the bandage into folds with his fingers pulling the flesh back at the same time. The blood oozed but he managed to pour some of the powder onto the wound and released the skin letting the accordion bandage spring back. Placing pressure on the wound with his hand once more he tied the bandage down. Blackthorn convulsed at the pain but then stopped as he became unconscious again.
The results were immediate. The properties of the niaphron root were amazing, it didn't take much. Blood was no longer oozing from beneath the bandage and Oak nodded in satisfaction. He tied the bag of powder as he arose to get Denver's attention.
“Can I find the leaves I told you about? They’ll prevent infection and help the wound to heal.”
Denver was once more holding the rifle and Flint had Oak's possessions in his hand. Oak stepped forward to place the bag of powder back into his bag but Flint took a step back.
“I only want to put it back into the bag.” Oak placed his hands wide in an open gesture of good faith. Flint stepped forward and took the small bag from him shoving it roughly into the woven bag. Oak turned back to the leader to see if he would consent to his request. The other boys were shuffling in discomfort.
Denver's eyes looked to be grilling his own for a moment until he looked away toward Flint.
“Give the Woodlander's things to Detroit and go with the Woodlander to search for the leaves. Bring back as many as you can, we’ll keep some for ourselves.”
Denver watched Flint give Oak's things to Detroit and spun around to focus on Oak again. “Now Woodlander, tell me why you’re following us?”
Oak looked down at Blackthorn for a moment satisfied that he was stable and turned his attention to Denver.
“We live in the forest and were patrolling our borders when we came across your group. We decided to follow to make sure you weren't a danger to the rest of us.” He saw a light of humour flash in Denver's eyes and knew that he didn't believe him.
Turning to Flint he said. “Go with him and be on your guard.”
Flint gave a nod at the instructions and pushed Oak forward. “Lead the way Woodlander.”
His voice was different to the Denver’s; it was deeper, with a different accent to it. Oak went over his words and opened his mind to him. He knew this was a good man, honest and true, faithful to his friends. He would be a good ally to have.