Zoe Reed - Breaking Legacies

My tiny friend was amused, and after laughing a little myself, I stayed silent to eat my breakfast. Talking as much as I did was normal, but Albus and Brande never completely knew what I was saying. Even though my wisp couldn’t speak, it was nice that it could understand me, and its tolling giggles and melodic hums were enough by way of response.

Once I was done eating, I put out the fire and mounted Brande, ready to begin the next day’s worth of searching. Maddox couldn’t stay perched on the saddle horn while I was riding, so I moved her to my shoulder with the hopes that she wouldn’t take to nipping at my ears. Just in case, I kept my hood up. Little Will-o’ floated along at my side, while Albus did his usual thing trotting along around us.

The princess’s scent had ended at the clothing she’d left behind. It wasn’t normal, and it didn’t make any sense, but it was the way things were. Without being able to track her by scent, I had to try and think. There was no way she could survive in the woods without weapons or Maddox, and she wouldn’t last in the cold without her clothing. The only thing that did make sense was that she’d started toward one of the forest villages in an attempt to find food and shelter. She wouldn’t have a difficult time of keeping her identity hidden. I’d lived nearer the castle than the foresters my entire life, and I’d never known what she looked like until yesterday.

I explained all this to the wisp, which chimed along with appropriate responses as we headed for one of the main forest roads. Clopping along the trails of the Black Wood, it wasn’t difficult to tell where it got its name. At night, of course, everything was black. But the same was true for the daylight hours as well, all except for the snow. The trunks of the thick, old trees were black. The branches that bent and twisted into each other so that only small beams of sunlight made it through to the earth, those were all black. Even the leaves, and pine needles, and the tops of the shrubs sticking out of the snow—all black.

“You know why everything here is black, Little Will-o’?” I asked eventually, to distract myself from the fact that the air was colder under the shade of the wood. It answered no. “My mother always told me it’s because most of the wars have been fought in the Black Wood, instead of by sea or the Amalgam Plains. Over time, the plants soaked up all the blood spilled here, and it’s turned them all black.” A hum of acknowledgment. “Of course, there are those that say it’s because the woods are haunted,” and I reached out to give the wisp a playful poke, “with ghosts more frightening than you, Little Will-o’.” Then I added with a shrug, “Maybe it’s both.”

Finally, we reached a wooden signpost back near the area I’d found the princess’s clothing. I couldn’t read words, so I didn’t know the names of the villages it was pointing to, but my mother had taught me to read the numbers, which indicated distance. Being in the state I figured her to be, it made sense that the princess would have headed for the closest village, one the post told me was only three miles straight into the forest.

I occupied the ride to the village with telling my wisp and animal companions more stories. I never was exactly sure why I talked so much sometimes. Out hunting, there were periods I’d lie in wait for hours, so concentrated on not making a sound that I feared to even breathe too loudly. It seemed to me the words just built up, and when I wasn’t hunting they all came pouring out. Of course, I also explained this to my friends, though the only response I got out of any of them was a chiming giggle.

The village we reached was a small one, the largest building in it being a sort of inn. The inn only had one bedroom, but I wasn’t interested in renting it. I asked the keeper if he’d seen a girl that fit the princess’s description, only without mentioning who she was. The last thing I wanted to do was alert the foresters to the fact that the princess was in the woods. Instead, I told the keeper she had a debt to settle with my family, and if he happened to see her, I’d be much obliged if he kept her here. I made sure to let him know to keep her well fed and comfortable, and that I’d reimburse him for any trouble. That’s exactly what I told every villager I asked, after each one of them said they hadn’t seen her.

Even though most of them assured me they’d keep an eye out, I didn’t expect them to remember. But I refused to be disheartened by it, and I continued to the next closest village to further my search. It took all day for me to discover nothing of importance, and by the time the sun was about to go down, I was exhausted and hungry. Reluctant to use the gold the king had given me to stay at an inn, I lit a fire a ways outside of the last village I’d searched, and sent Maddox into the air to find food.

She returned more swiftly this time with an ermine in her grasp. The small rodent didn’t have much meat on its bones, but it would suffice until morning. I whispered my usual thanks, and after making sure Maddox and Albus were fed, I cooked my own portion over the fire. I was quiet while I ate, lacking the energy to speak too much until after I’d finished my meal. What I did instead was observe my two newest companions, Maddox and Will-o’. The wisp seemed to enjoy the bird’s company a curious amount, even if the falcon appeared mildly irritated at having its feathers so often ruffled. It was an interest to me why the wisp seemed so fascinated with Maddox, as it paid little mind to any of the wild birds we encountered, but it was a fascination I couldn’t account for, no matter how closely I studied.

My energy returned soon after I’d eaten, but for some reason I wasn’t in the mood to talk for the rest of the night. The whole situation was troubling, but mostly it was that I didn’t know what had become of the princess after she left the witch’s cabin. I could track anything that left behind a scent or a print, but the princess had left nothing. Maybe she’d disappeared into thin air and ceased to exist. Or maybe she’d been transformed into a bird, and was out there somewhere, just a tiny sparrow that didn’t know who it really was. I spread out under my sleeping furs with these queries in mind, unable to completely rest easy even after I removed the tight linens around my torso. Albus could sense my discomfort, because while he always stayed at my side, tonight he set his head right on top of my chest. Even the attentive wisp knew it, because it nuzzled against my cheek until it got a laugh out of me, and then it stayed perched at my shoulder for warmth the rest of the night.

By morning, most of my vigor had been restored, and I picked up telling my companions stories while we headed farther south to the next village. There was the love story about the giant and the star. There was the horror story about the skin walker in the mountains of the Amalgam Plains. Will-o’s favorite, however, was the comedy about the sea dragon that played jokes on fishermen. All of the stories I communicated I’d either heard from my mother or from the permanent minstrel who nested at the inn nearest my home, and all of them I knew by heart.

I got something resembling information at the second village I reached that day. The inn here was larger, with a handful of rooms down a hall connected to the main area where there were dining tables, and a massive fire pit at the center of it all. I made sure to leave Albus outside, and greeted the innkeeper amicably enough, but the first thing he did was point to Little Will-o’.

“What’s that?” he asked gruffly.

“A Will-o’-the-wisp,” I told him, and trying not to make much of it, continued, “I’m searching for someone, and perhaps you’ve seen her.”