Chapter 43: "...But I Can't Give Up My Arm."
After much deliberation, Isaac decided to share his knowledge with the young shaman before him. Surely she wouldn't actually rip off his arm or leg, right?
"I'm not sure if there's any spell at my level worth teaching someone like you, but I'll do my best anyway."
"Don't feel too pressured. Do you think I'm expecting some forgotten ancient ritual from you?"
Wendigo quickly picked up on the underlying meaning in Isaac's words and tried to reassure him. After all, it wasn't easy to teach someone when you felt outmatched in skill. Still, Wendigo believed Skadi could learn something from Isaac. She was just... too young, after all.
He didn't belittle her skills just because of her youth. Wendigo, who owed so much of his own mystical prowess to her, would never do that. But time held an undeniable value that couldn't be ignored.
'Excluding cases like the thorn boar, Gikas, or OneTon. They're spirits by birth, so age doesn't affect them much.'
Setting aside those anomalies, the elderly were generally wiser than the young. It wasn't empty talk that age brought understanding of the world and a broader perspective. The old had simply tasted the filth and ugliness of life first—the kind the young still had ahead of them.
Most elders had turned that muck not into trash, but fertilizer for growth. Isaac wasn't that ancient a shaman, but he was undeniably older than Skadi.
'It'd be great if he could teach her something truly useful, but even casual conversation should bring out stories from his years as a shaman.'
Why was Wendigo pushing so hard to extract something from Isaac? It was a form of consideration on his part. Not for the stranger Isaac, whom he'd just met, but for Skadi.
As far as Wendigo knew, Skadi had lost her mother right after coming of age and come under his wing. She'd been too busy surviving day-to-day to gain much worldly experience, so she must have some regrets.
'Exposure to different perspectives like this should help her.'
Wendigo felt confident he'd made a solid choice.
"Go teach her what spells you know. And if possible... share any info or experiences from outside the forest too."
"!"
As Wendigo gestured for him to leave, Isaac caught on to the intent. Those kinds of stories were always the prelude to the real point.
'So the spell talk was just an excuse!'
Realizing Wendigo's goal, Isaac breathed a sigh of relief. Teaching spells to Skadi had felt too embarrassing—like showing off his strength in front of an ogre. But experience? He had plenty more than this young shaman.
After Skadi bowed and withdrew, Isaac jumped up and hurried after her. Wendigo watched with a swell of pride.
'I hope Skadi appreciates my thoughtfulness.'
Skadi, sharp as ever, had picked up on the nuance Isaac gleaned from his first real conversation with Wendigo. She led him to her hut, treated his wounds, and sighed inwardly.
'You don't need to go out of your way like this...'
Wendigo's judgment wasn't odd or eccentric. Who'd assume a woman fresh into adulthood had a wealth of experience? But just as Wendigo wasn't your average spirit, Skadi was far from ordinary.
Examining Isaac's hands and muscles, Skadi frowned.
'Few calluses on his hands—he avoids hard labor. And scrawny muscles too. Does he neglect training just because he's a shaman?'
What Wendigo overlooked was that Skadi hadn't stumbled into shamanism by luck. She'd followed in her mother's footsteps, trained rigorously because her mother had foreseen a harsh future for her daughter and raised her into a fully seasoned shaman.
While other kids played, Skadi handled herbs and learned her mother's spells. While girls learned sewing at home, Skadi trailed her mother, practicing scythe and axe work to toughen up. If not for her naturally slender build, she'd have mastered sword and spear too.
'He's got a sturdy frame and still skips training? Pathetic!'
To Skadi, for whom shamanism was her calling, this was utterly deplorable. In her frustration(?), she yanked the bandage tight around his wound.
"Guhk!?"
"Treatment's done."
Her voice was ice-cold, a far cry from how she spoke to Wendigo. The workers assisting her whispered among themselves, unused to this side of her.
"Did that guy offend Lady Skadi?"
"Nah... She'd never snap over something small. More likely he disrespected the spirit."
"Then he'd be dead by now."
Overhearing, Isaac felt a chill down his spine.
'Never badmouth spirits around here...'
His go-to icebreaker with shamans—gossiping about spirits—was off-limits. Nothing bonded you to a shaman faster than insulting spirits: mock their taste for would-be contractors, trash their personalities for the contracted. But this? Unthinkable.
"Everyone, I need to talk to him alone. Could you step out?"
"You sure? Even if he's a fellow shaman, being alone with an outsider..."
"What if he tries something sleazy!?"
The workers eyed Isaac like a starving wolf. He wanted to scream.
'What the hell are these lunatics on about?'
He swallowed his curses. Sure, worry about a lone woman with a stranger in her home. But a contracted shaman? You should fear her turning you into a ritual sacrifice!
Before he could protest, her gesture had subdued him. Frustration boiled into rage. But the workers stood firm. To the forest folk, Wendigo was the most revered and grateful existence; Skadi, the most beloved and cherished. Her beauty (lost on beastkin, of course) aside, her kindness and compassion melted hearts and bowed heads.
Leave her alone with a drifter—and a drifter shaman at that?
'Drifter shamans enchant women with spells, they say.'
'One suspicious move, and I'll split his skull.'
As Isaac and the workers glared, Skadi sighed and blocked their path.
"I appreciate the concern, but Wendigo-sama vetted him personally. No need to worry."
"Hmm. If the spirit says so..."
"If he was shady, his head would've rolled already."
"?"
The workers murmured agreement and filed out. Isaac blinked in confusion. To him, the spirit seemed kinder than the shaman... so why assume Wendigo would decapitate him?
'First time a spirit looks nicer than a human.'
He sighed inwardly as the workers glanced back and left. Alone, Skadi and Isaac sat facing each other. The hut felt colder. The stifling silence broke when Isaac spoke first.
"Um. You must've noticed too, but Lord Wendigo..."
"Wendigo... sama?"
Isaac froze, mouth snapping shut. Skadi's single word chilled the air. Frost bloomed from her palm across the table, cold winds swirling.
He frantically replayed his mistake, but—
"W-Wait!?"
"How dare you utter Lord Wendigo's name so casually..."
No time—a sharp root erupted from the floor, aiming to pierce his jaw. Its tip writhed; Isaac clamped his mouth shut. Skadi glared with dead eyes. Meeting her dull red gaze, he smelled blood.
Recalling her words, he realized her fury: just for saying his name?!'
Isaac didn't know, but among forest folk, it was an unwritten rule: never speak Wendigo's name. It started as a proverb—don't casually invoke a spirit's name—but evolved. Now, it was a privilege reserved for his inner circle.
And of his two closest, Geron never used it, out of deference to Skadi, who'd been with him from the start. She cherished it as her pride: the sole shaman allowed that honor.
Yet this drifter she'd just met dared utter it!
"...Unforgivable, but considering you're an outsider, I'll let it slide once. Be grateful you're Wendigo-sama's guest."
After a long silence, Skadi regained her composure. Infuriating as he was, that fact remained. With a gesture, the root sank back; Isaac exhaled shakily.
She loomed with a frosty gaze, dictating terms.
"I'll finish what you meant to say. Wendigo-sama knows you're not qualified to teach me spells."
"Y-Yes! Exactly!"
Isaac slammed his forehead to the ground. Terrified she'd snap again.
Skadi nodded and continued.
"Assume you must tell me everything. Spells, knowledge, experiences... hold nothing back."
"Of course! Who am I to withhold anything?!"
Isaac was ready to spill his first kiss, most embarrassing memory—anything to survive. Just talk, right? No death.
Staring at the trembling man, Skadi sighed.
"Hah. To think you benefit from Wendigo-sama's kindness..."
"I'm sorry!"
"Sorry? Then prepare to squeeze out every drop in your head. Wendigo-sama doesn't demand work without reward, so don't worry about that."
Isaac nodded frantically. Reward? He just wanted away from this mad shaman.