Wizard of the Wood

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10

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The journey back was tense, and Essie did not understand why. Rylir’s comment of him being capable of doing things on his own rattled around in her head. It was irritating to say the least.

Of course he was capable of doing things on his own. Why did he think otherwise? Essie could not comprehend why he had his little outburst. He had done so well with naming the herbs and remembering its uses. She praised him for it and intended to set some kind of reward in place based on his performance.

Unfortunately, Essie suspected her praise would be lost at the moment and, instead, subtly observed her small companion’s behavior. On the trek back, Rylir was quiet. His body was turned away from her and possibly folded into a tight ball. She could tell by the way his weight was distributed in the hood pocket that he was most likely pressing his legs to his chest and keeping his arms folded.

Essie could not, for the life of her, understand why Rylir was acting like this. Was this because she picked him up without clear permission? She had done things like that before.

Had it always upset him like this?

Rylir never indicated that he was angry or frustrated with this particular action. He only seemed uneasy, and that much Essie could understand. It must be intimidating to step onto a hand that was the size of your entire body. Then again, to combat this, Essie always made sure he could see her approaching and tried to keep from touching him unnecessarily.

She decided to give it some time and that, eventually, he would calm down and their lives could resume as the new normal.

However…

It was in that silence that Rylir was letting his frustration manifest.

He thought today was going to be his day. He thought Essie might listen and take that step back if she saw he was capable of harvesting and naming the plants they went out to find. This was an opportunity to show that there was no need for the constant hovering or feeling the need to step in and interfere at every turn.

The autonomy had slipped away long ago. Rylir realized that; and while Essie probably never intended it to feel this way for him, Rylir suddenly figured out what the feeling was that he was resisting.

The feeling of being nothing more than a pet.

Essie knew he was a sentient, feeling being. This wasn’t in dispute. Still, constantly stepping in and taking care of him made him feel like a pet or, at the very least, a very young child.

It needed to stop.

Essie finally ascended the final ledge and pushed the door to her home open. The chilled wind stopped whipping past her hair and stopped seeping in through the holes in Rylir’s hood pocket.

Fabric pressing from all sides, his world turned sideways as Essie pulled her hood down and shook her hair out. Rylir knew what was coming and, while he did not know what was going to happen, he knew what he had to say.

“We’re back,” stated Essie as she finished locking up her home. She reached up to her shoulder and kept her hand beside the pocket where Rylir was for nearly a minute before she elected to address him again. “Are you incumbered by the fabric? Or are you having difficulty getting out?”

Rylir shifted uncomfortably before wrestling himself out of the hood pocket, hook and line in hand.

“I can get out and get down on my own,” Rylir said quietly as he maneuvered over the folds of fabric on Essie’s shoulder, lodged the hook in between one of the seams, and began belaying down her right arm, purposefully moving past her splayed left hand.

Essie sighed and stepped up to her desk, but moved her left hand further down to run parallel with Rylir’s movements.

“Rylir, I know you are fully capable of doing this on your own, but this is far more time consuming. Just let me…”

“No! Let me do this!” snapped Rylir as he stopped and looked up into Essie’s eyes, a burning determination swelling in him. The moment he touched down back onto the desk, Essie pulled the makeshift hook loose from her cloak and set it down on the desk, watching with her ice shard-colored eyes as Rylir began pacing back and forth.

Essie, perturbed, removed her cloak and hooked it onto one of the few hooks by the entrance of the door. She pulled her herb pouch free from her hip and summoned the herb box to begin planting the ginseng.

Her fingers had barely brushed the patch of soil away when she heard Rylir address her.

“Essie… we need to talk about something,” said Rylir as he finally stopped pacing and turned to face her, arms folded tightly across his chest. Essie, who had not anticipated on her handheld house guest to come forward to soon after their interaction earlier, continued to work.

“There are a lot of topics open for discussion, though I anticipate that you have something specific in mind,” she stated calmly. Using the tip of her finger, she carefully punctured the top of the soil and deposited the ginseng roots into each hole.

Rylir ran his fingers through his hair, heart starting to race and a sickening uneasiness churning his insides. He looked up, craning his neck, to watch Essie’s features as he spoke, hoping to pick up any change or, at the very least, read the situation.

“I know you mean the best when you offer your help. I really do. When you use your spells and magic to bring things over to the table or when you offer to, you know, pick me up and carry me to where I need to be, I think you’re being nice. I don’t think you are doing it to belittle me or anything of that nature,” said Rylir, trying to keep himself together. “At the same time, I want to be able to do these things on my own.”

“Rylir, you do not possess magic. I doubt you will be able to do such things on your own,” stated Essie, her matter-of-fact tone getting under Rylir’s skin in an instant.

“I mean, you are right. I don’t have magic, but I can still do things on my own. I’m capable of doing things on my own, and I wish you would let me do things on my own,” emphasized Rylir. Essie stopped working and turned her head curiously to the side.

“I do not understand. Are you asking for me to not offer assistance when it is obvious you either require aid or are spending unnecessary time and effort on a particular task?” asked Essie as she looked down at him.

“I know! Asking someone to not help is confusing, but it is something I need,” said Rylir. “Because… ever since I’ve come here, I felt more like a pet than a person.” Essie sighed, partially rolling her eyes, as she continued working.

“That is absolutely absurd. You are obviously a person, and I do not believe I have treated you any less than a sentient being. You have my hospitality and an educational source you can rely on. I do not understand why you are upset,” stated Essie.

“Because I’m little more than a child here, Essie. I can’t do anything on my own without you stepping in and taking care of it for me. I’m learning as fast as I can, but you’re constantly watching over me, like I might fumble and fling myself off of the table or the shelf at any time,” stated Rylir.

“You can be rather clumsy,” muttered Essie.

“And I’ve had questions that, for one reason or another, you won’t answer, or are unable to answer,” continued Rylir, which made Essie stop working once again and look at him sternly.

“To what questions are you referring?” she retorted, placing her hand on her hip and staring down at him once again. If Rylir weren’t filled with adrenaline, he would feel scared and retreat back into complacent silence. Not now.

“Oh, were do I even start?” asked Rylir rhetorically. “How about why you scream and talk while you sleep? You say you don’t dream, but you have to remember what you’re saying, right? Is that why you have the juniper?”

Essie’s entire body stiffened as she listened to Rylir’s question.

“Screaming? What are you talking about? And I told you that I like the smell of juniper,” said Essie, saying the words while questioning them herself. Was she screaming? Did this have something to do with the sweat she was waking up with recently? As for the juniper? She did like the smell, but the more she thought about it, the more she questioned it.

There was a faint something scratching at the back of her mind. It was an ache, an itch that was barely out of reach somewhere in the back of her mind. If she reached for it, she could reach it, but…

But something… there was something else there with that memory… something dark…

No!

She shook her head and snapped out of her momentary stupor only to see Rylir pointing up at her.

“See? That! That right there? What happened just then, Essie?” demanded Rylir.

“I… I don’t…” Essie didn’t like being put on the spot. She didn’t like these questions. Why? Why did it make her so uncomfortable?

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me? Like how you don’t want a child to know about something they’re not supposed to know about,” argued Rylir.

“I don’t know,” stated Essie firmly. Rylir rubbed his eyes and took a few steps backward.

“Why? Why don’t you know? You know everything, Essie. And what about those mushrooms? The poisonous ones? Why do you have them? You don’t use them, so why do you have them Essie?” Rylir looked up at her pleadingly, seeking any reassurance or comfort, but he couldn’t read her features. Try as he might, even she seemed unsure about what she was saying. She turned her icy gaze onto him, walls going up in her eyes, as she replied.

“Why do you want to know? Why is it so important to you?” she asked.

“The fact that you’re not answering or avoiding answering my question further proves my point Essie. You of all people should want to know. So, why don’t you?”

The same fears crept back into his mind once again about Essie and how truthful she was being with him. It was now or never.

“Because I want to know. Because I think you’re either hiding something or you really don’t know, and the fact you haven’t tried to figure it out is almost as terrifying,” Rylir retorted.

Essie, being confronted by point after point, felt herself shift to a defensive argument.

“If you feel so unnerved by my lack of enthusiasm for discovering the answers for these things, then why don’t you do something about it?” said Essie, her voice shifting to an agitated tone.

“I… I want to help. I want to help you do something about it, but I can’t do that unless you work with me, not work for me,” argued Rylir. “But, would you let me? Would you really let me do something about it? Or would you intervein? Don’t you trust me?”