The Spectating Sapling (4)
—First things first, let's lay her down properly.
The flustered water girl eased the unconscious girl gently onto her back.
Thermia herself had tried to push through it bravely, but there was no way she was actually fine.
She didn't look good at all.
My guess was that once her mind and body hit their limit, the lifespan problem that had been lying dormant all this time finally erupted—like an illness whose incubation period had simply run out.
Why do elves have such short lives, anyway?
Truthfully, I had a fair idea of the cause.
Every sentient being I'd seen so far had been an elf, so I couldn't be certain, but elves gave off the feeling of a species deeply attuned to nature—like a peculiar organism meant to live only in first-rate water.
It was just a feeling, but I considered it a remarkably reliable one. After all, it was I—possessing the purest mana in existence, mana closest to nature itself—who sensed that elves were close to nature.
As for the specific cause...
Wasn't it the food?
In nature, whether a creature is carnivorous or omnivorous, it doesn't usually cook its food over fire before eating.
Sun-dried jerky still counts as a raw diet, so there was no need to insist on vegetarianism—but cooking over fire was something that ought to stop.
Whether it was grilled meat or vegetable soup, anything cooked over flame didn't suit an elf's body.
Just because fast food tastes good doesn't mean it's good for you.
Right—junk food was the problem.
They were a different species from humans down to their very biology, so of course eating the same things made them sick.
Then again, I suppose it's hard not to eat when everyone around you is enjoying something delicious.
The water girl peered at the girl with a worried look. Not knowing what else to do, she placed her little horned helmet on the girl's forehead, where it sat forlornly—a helmet the exact size of the water girl herself.
Is she saying, "Wear this and get well soon"? It's far too small to actually wear, though.
—You probably don't need to worry. I think I can restore her. Could you bring Thermia over to my trunk?
If she'd drifted from nature, the answer was simply to bring her back to it.
The moment Thermia's body touched mine, I focused my awareness into her. The mana inside her had been affected; there was a murky cast to it.
I'll have to circulate it once, in accordance with nature's order.
Like airing out the stale air in a stuffy room.
My own mana would probably be too much of a burden on her body. Better to try with a mana stone.
—Now, where did we put that mana stone?
The water girl hurried off and retrieved the mana stone that had been left abandoned in the grass.
I shaped a miniature mortar and pestle, and once I handed them over, she diligently pounded the stone into powder. The mana became a fine dust.
—Good job. That should be easy to feed her.
I slipped the powder into the girl's mouth. She was unconscious, so she couldn't truly eat—but merely mimicking the act of eating was enough.
The powder dissolved and transformed into natural mana. I touched it carefully, guiding the mana into her body.
Then, all at once, the natural mana resisted. It protested, as if to say: why are you trying to imprison me—a being meant to roam freely—inside this tiny frame?
So the rabbit that had calmly eaten it all along was the unusual one. But no matter. Soothing mana was something I did every day.
I focused on the sensation.
A person, by nature, breathes in and breathes out. By swallowing the world and releasing it again, one recognizes oneself as part of nature and soothes the soul.
So this was nothing strange. The mana that would one day roam the world was simply meeting, now, what it would inevitably encounter.
The natural mana's resistance softened.
Using the time that bought me, I moved the girl's own mana. I drew the murky mana outward, guiding it to leave her body—and it was expelled with her breath.
Into the space where greed had been pared away, natural mana settled in. Its once-pure nature gradually clouded as it struck a balance with her body. The mana took root beautifully.
The girl's complexion improved noticeably. Her breathing evened out into a steady rhythm.
Yoo-hoo—ventilation of the internal mana: success.
Having only ever experienced pure mana inside my own body, I hadn't expected natural mana to resist quite so fiercely, so I was caught a little off guard—but a success is a success.
Thermia didn't come to until around noon.
Whether she'd passed from fainting into sleep, she wore a dazed, half-dreaming expression as she wiped her mouth.
"Where am I...?"
Even her voice was foggy.
—You're inside a dream. Sleep more.
"Oh, I'm in a dream."
She gazed blankly upward.
"Wow, the tree is suuuper big."
The girl, still murmuring half in dreamscape, lay back down and fell asleep again.
How should I put this.
The polite thing to do with sleep-talk is to pretend you never heard it. Yes.
The sparrows of dawn chirped away. When the water girl crept up and startled them with a wa!, they burst into flight in a flurry of feathers.
"You're right, Lord Tree—everyone does eat a lot of meat. Jerky's for winter stores, so usually we grill the meat fresh. Soup is a staple too."
Thermia popped a fruit into her mouth.
—Then my hunch was right. Elven constitutions demand a raw diet, and every time they cook over fire, it makes them sick.
Thermia sank into a thoughtful silence.
"You have the intuition, but objectively speaking, the evidence is thin."
Yeah, yeah, I know it is.
"Though after dying and coming back to life, I trust you immensely. And you're no ordinary tree, after all."
The girl chewed on her fruit and frowned slightly.
"From my own studies, one of the great mysteries is why elves—who should have gone extinct ages ago—are spread so widely across the world. The old days were more or less fine, but if you consider that the advancement of society, culture, and technology made fire so readily available, it's quite plausible that's what shortened our lives so easily."
Whoa? You've thought it through that far?
—I see. I can't speak to that part, but tell me—how do elves judge life expectancy? What was the basis for saying you specifically would die young?
I figured there had to be some reasoning worth referencing.
Thermia flinched.
—What's wrong?
She fidgeted for a while before finally answering.
"Looks."
Wha?
"From everything we've observed, the more beautiful a face you have, the sooner you die."
—The prettier and more handsome you are, the shorter your life?
"...Yes."
Thermia averted her eyes.
—So exceptionally pretty children die young, is that it?
The girl gave no answer—only her ears turned red.
—I see.
Her face grew redder and redder by the moment.
Then, in an instant, her whole face flushed scarlet. She whipped her head around to glare at me.
"That's not me saying I'm pretty and cute! It's just—it's just what the grown-ups said! That I'd die young! Okay?!"
I never said a word.
I truly did not mention anything about anyone being cute.
But so a girl who's been told she's pretty and cute her whole life grows up actually confident that she's pretty and cute. Impressive.
Thermia, fidgeting with her hands over her scarlet face, finally couldn't stand it anymore and sprang to her feet. Her strength flagged and she wobbled for a moment, but she stood up straight.
"Anyway, I'm going to tell the village this news! All it takes is boldly changing our eating habits to find out—there's nothing hard to verify. I'm off!"
After bowing her farewell to the water girl as well, she scurried away.
Her golden hair fluttered behind her.
I was glad her spirits had lifted.
I watched her retreating back, then spread my branches wide.
Warm sunlight washed over me.
Thank you, sunshine. It's all thanks to you, warming everyone like this.
I reshaped the mana paper. The surface shifted, and characters appeared upon it. One by one I wrote out a full set, then stopped when it was complete.
I compared the basic vocabulary primer against the words I'd written.
—Did I get them all right? I think I got them all?
The water girl solemnly compared my answers against the primer.
Then she broke into a wide grin and nodded.
—Whoa, I memorized all of them.
I had mastered the basic vocabulary primer.
Basic or not, I could read now. Surely no sapling in this world was as clever as I was.
To celebrate, I took a look at the graveyard next door. I could read the gravestone inscriptions clearly now—the dates, of course, and even the occasional epitaphs, more or less.
This elf died after taking a single bite of an unknown mushroom to check whether it was poisonous.
Wait, whaaaat? Isn't writing that down eternally embarrassing? Where's the deceased's honor? Granted, it's a cause of death with no honor left to lose, but still—that's going too far.
It was like carving "died after stepping on a banana peel" onto a tombstone. My sympathy came flooding out unbidden.
When I drew my gaze from the headstone, I spotted Thermia not far away.
The girl pressed her forehead against my trunk. With an expression both sulky and gloomy, she muttered:
"Why am I so young."
Did something not go well?
"If only I'd been ten years older. No—twenty? Thirty wouldn't be bad either."
Quite the statement you're making there.
The girl, deep in deliberation over a specific age, shook her head vigorously.
"No, no. This kind of escapism is unnecessary."
She slapped her own cheeks with both hands. Her eyes sharpened.
"First of all, once I catch a wolf, age won't matter anymore. The chief will take me seriously, and I'll be able to join village meetings. Everything will get better."
Oh no.
There is no adult anywhere who will seriously entertain the daydreams of a girl who just spent two days sleeping outdoors.
And furthermore...
A declaration like "I spent two days daydreaming after Mom died, and now I've figured out how I could have saved her" is even worse.
Add "Because a talking tree told me" on top of that, and it's the cherry on the cake.
Oh dear.
This one's on me.
If I didn't handle this properly, unsavory rumors would spread through the village too.
I sent the water girl to fetch her.
Thermia approached, looking sheepish.
"Hello. It's been a whole day, hasn't it."
An awkward exchange of greetings.
—How did it go? Weren't there any precedents about eating habits? That would have made this conversation much quicker.
Thermia averted her eyes.
"I haven't told anyone yet. When I got back to the village, like you said, I was bombarded with questions. Answering everyone took the whole day."
Her gaze came back around, and a smile formed at the corner of her mouth.
"Today I came out because I was worn out and needed to catch my breath."
So while answering everyone, did the "a talking tree told me" slip slip out? I felt genuinely sorry.
—I see. I've been thinking—aren't you busy with the funeral arrangements anyway?
"...I suppose I am?"
—So I was thinking I'd take charge of the diet reform myself. After all, elves come by the gravestone now and then, so I can simply call them over and talk.
"What?"
Thermia was flustered.
—It was my idea, so it's only right that I see it through. You should step away from this whole matter and—
"No!"
Startled by her own shout, the girl flinched.
Then she steadied herself and hurried on.
"Let me! Please let me do it!"
Her gestures pointed at herself.
"I haven't proven myself yet, but I can do this! I know I don't look dependable! I know I've never delivered a result anyone could trust! But—!"
—Calm down. I'm listening.
I offered the words quietly.
—It's just you and me here, and we have plenty of time. The tree isn't going anywhere, no matter how fast you speak.
The girl let out the breath she'd been holding.
Her ragged breathing settled, her shoulders gradually sank, and her head lowered.
"I'm sorry for getting worked up."
—It's fine. It happens.
I thought for a moment.
So she wants to do it with her own hands. Well, fair enough.
—If you want to do it, do it. Honestly, since I'm a tree, I'm shy around strangers. Talking to people I don't know is a burden—so if you handle it, that's actually a relief.
The girl relaxed.
—But what exactly is your plan? It won't be easy for an argument that boils down to one thing—eating habits—to be taken seriously, will it?
The girl calmly organized her thoughts.
"There is a way. We elves have a tradition handed down from long ago. An elf is only recognized as a true adult once they've hunted and brought back a wolf."
Whoa, so there's a rite of passage like that.
"It's antiquated, so I did abolish it, though."
Oh no.
"It just produces needless deaths and all sorts of problems, doesn't it? Elves are rare enough as it is that anyone who isn't a hunter is precious—what about all those people?"
The words tumbled out after the fact.
"But."
Thermia's eyes gleamed.
"The recognition part of the tradition still lives on. In this village, out of respect for wolf hunters, there's even a custom that your first speech at a village meeting is heard with full seriousness. I confirmed it with the chief, so it's certain."
Whoa, then this might actually work.
It wasn't a difficult proposal to grant. All it asked was that a few people temporarily change their eating habits—for the sake of preserving tradition alone, it would be accepted.
Besides, refusing someone who went and caught a wolf would just be cruel.
—Good idea. But how will you catch the wolf? I've never seen one around here.
Isn't finding one a whole task in itself?
"The village culling drove off a wolf pack last spring, and I heard one lone wolf survived and fled. It must have been frightened—runs at the mere sight of people, so no one bothers chasing it—but its territory is well known."
Whoa, she really prepared everything. How, in a single day?
—Then how will you take down the wolf when you find it?
The once-bold girl stopped mid-sentence.
Her gaze grew shifty, and she awkwardly mimed drawing a bow.
"With a bow...? If I shoot from far away, wouldn't it die?"
She probably could manage that. She'd caught birds before, after all—what reason would there be for her to fail against a wolf?
A ripple of laughter passed through my leaves.
—You're not alone, so there's no need for that.
I moved my branches. Leaves stretched out, and the horned water drop, who had been quietly playing at being dew, was presented before the girl.
—Our water girl is kind-hearted—she'd never turn her back on a friend.
The water girl deliberated for a moment, then nodded, helmet and all.
I shaped a mana shovel and showed it to her.
—Dig a pit trap and lure the wolf in together, and that'll do it. It won't fall for it on the first try, but once it does, it's a battle you've already won.
It wouldn't go as smoothly as it sounded, of course. In the field, her body would freeze up too.
"Even if it's abolished, it's still a rite of passage in the truest sense, isn't it? Shouldn't I do it entirely with my own strength to make it count?"
Thermia was flustered.
—That would be nice, but still.
I added a remark.
—Connections are part of your strength too, you know?
The girl's face went blank.
Her gaze wandered aimlessly.
"I mean, you're... you're right."
Then that settles it.
From that day on, Thermia prepared for the wolf hunt.
She spent entire days digging and covering pits, getting used to the shovel.
Then, half-exhausted and resting, she watched the water girl—who had been observing quietly—casually step in and dig a complete pit with a single gesture, and stood there dumbfounded.
Watching the water girl cackle at her reaction, she realized the little spirit had a slightly mischievous streak.
Yeaaah, sorry about tricking you there.
Still, our water girl's heart is kind, so it all works out.
Anyway, preparation complete, Thermia set off on her journey.
On her first attempt, she failed to find the wolf and came home empty-handed.
On the second, she came face to face with it for real—her mind went white, she forgot the entire plan, and loosed an arrow. She caught the wolf in the eye and drove it off, but calming her rattled nerves cost her a full day.
On the third, she was ambushed by the wolf, which had been lying in wait just beyond its territory. She desperately blocked it with the mana shovel, but found herself staring down its fangs at point-blank range.
It would have been dangerous indeed if the wolf—having bitten badly, its fang wobbling loose—hadn't taken one look at the furious water girl and fled in terror.
The girl realized the mana shovel was tremendously reliable.
The fourth time was...
Well, it's about time she came back.
I anxiously watched the edge of the wolf's territory.
Leaves crunched underfoot, and the girl entered my view. She was smeared with blood, and there was even a scrape on her elbow—but none of it seemed to be her own blood. The water girl followed behind, carrying the wolf's carcass.
Whoaaa.
"I caught it!"
The girl came running up, flushed and beaming.
—So the pit trap finally worked?
The blood-soaked shovel rose high.
"I beat it to death!"
Wolfsmeat glistened on its edge.
Thaaat's... not exactly what I gave it to you for.
Still, she'd caught it, so all's well that ends well.
Thermia steadied her ragged breathing. She wiped the blood from her face, then gave herself a proper wash with the ball of water the girl floated over to her.
"Thank you."
Her hands shook off the droplets.
"I came straight here because I wanted you to be the first to know. Now I'll head to the village. I need to hand it over to someone experienced in butchering before it spoils."
—Don't use fire. Turn the whole thing into jerky.
"I will."
Thermia turned and walked away, brushing the blood from her clothes as she pushed through the underbrush.
The girl arrived at the practice yard, paused a moment before the target boards, then kept walking.
Blue-green trees and white headstones filled her view. Her steps carried her to one particular grave. Her gaze lingered on the headstone for a long while.
Her hands clenched into tight fists.
A moment later, her body turned, and her steps carried her past the grave.
Her footprints led all the way to the village.