Book 2: Chapter 17: Embroidery

Book 2: Chapter 17: Embroidery

Corporal Claws, master of the log and guardian of the pond, luxuriated on her favored perch.

A cool breeze wound its way through the forest, but given her superior body, she barely noticed it. She rolled onto her back, letting a ray of sun land on her belly fluff. With a chirp of sheer contentment, she wiggled her body, settling further into the groove of her perch.

With her ascension, knowledge had poured into her body in a steady stream, making her, by her own approximation, the smartest of Fischer’s students. Because of her vast intellect, she knew that, as a mammal, she had subterranean fat.

Claws raised an eyebrow—that wasn’t right.

Sub-cute-angus fat? Sub... sub-cretaceous? Her face crinkled in annoyance—they weren’t right either.

Whatever—she was aware of her fat. She rubbed her belly for emphasis, grinning as she ran both paws through her illustrious fur and massaged the layers of fatty insulation beneath. She thought of the cultists in town claiming that crabs were the superior form, then let out a chittering chuckle—the poor fools.

She slipped back into a state of half slumber, smiling at the world’s sensations as they blanketed her. Some time later, she heard a twig break. She raised her head to see a man departing, so chirped to get his attention.

Leroy froze on the spot and spun, giving her a guilty look.

“Sorry—I saw you sleeping and didn’t want to wake you...”

She waved a dismissive paw and rolled over before stretching, arching her back and shaking with effort. When the stretch was well and truly complete, she settled back on her hindquarters and cocked her head at Leroy.

Thankfully, he understood her unspoken question—such things were to be expected of her minions.

“Fischer told me that there was a spirit in the light-blue tree...” Leroy shook his head. “Man, saying that out loud makes me sound insane.”

Claws’ body became wreathed in lightning and she crossed her arms, staring down at the deliverer of terrible news.

Leroy took a step back.

“Uh... Claws? Everything okay?”

Corporal Claws, queen of the forest and matriarch of the pond, shook with indignation. She had wanted to raise the tree without anyone knowing, then surprise her master. She imagined the scritches her master would have given her, but upon realizing the plan was now ruined, her face twisted into a scowl.

As quick as her frustration had come, it drained away, as did the lightning surrounding her. It wasn’t Leroy’s fault; her master was simply too intelligent, too prepared and calculating to be surprised in such a way. She leaped from her perch atop the log, landing silently before Leroy. She chirped once, nodded for Leroy to follow, then set off for the clearing.

They traveled in silence. Each time Claws glanced back at Leroy, he was looking up, a smile on his face as he appreciated the beauty of the forest. She approved of his wonder; her forest was magnificent indeed. Pride suffused her, and she held her head a little higher as she led him on. When they arrived at the clearing, her pride scattered like a school of fish upon seeing her deadly form beneath the waves.

“What the frack...” Leroy said from behind her, echoing her thoughts.

The clearing was no longer a clearing.

Where the forest floor surrounding the light-blue tree had previously been clear, four saplings now stood. She slunk toward one, overly cautious of the unexpected growth. When she reached it, she stood on her hind legs, and even stretching to her full height, the sapling was taller. All of its leaves were glossy, a light green that indicated fresh growth. She wrapped a padded paw around the trunk and pushed softly; it held firm, not moving even a little.

There was a blur of green and something swung down toward her. She chirped in alarm and tried to scurry away, but off balance as she was, she never stood a chance—the twig smacked her right between the eyes. Corporal Claws rolled backward with the hit. As she got to her feet, she rubbed her stinging forehead, frowning at the impudent tree.

The sapling’s leaves shook with mirth, as did those of the light-blue tree.

Leroy stumbled further into the clearing, his gaze distant and eyes wide.

“There... there really is a tree spirit?” His head darted between the two shaking canopies. “No—there are two?”

Claws shook her head with a chirp. She recognized that sadistic humor—it was just like the time the spirit tripped her with a root. The same cheeky being had somehow taken over control of the lemon sapling that whacked her, if not all of them.

“No?” Leroy asked. “What do you mean?”

She pointed at all the trees, then brought her paws together, clasping them.

“You’re saying it’s the one spirit?”

A loud knock came from the door, jolting him from his reverie. He shook his head as he strode toward it, still feeling somewhat disconnected from the present. When he opened the door, that changed.

“How are ya going, Gary?” Barry asked.

“Hi, er... sir?”

Barry laughed.

“Just Barry is fine, mate.”

“Right. Sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Would you mind following me for a bit? I need help tending the weeds.”

Recognizing the code phrase, Gary nodded and stepped through the doorway to join Barry outside. He closed the door and locked it.

“After you, sir—er, Barry.”

***

Gary followed his church leader through the streets of Tropica, his heart thumping and palms clammy. It was well past the morning bustle of the village, and most of the south side residents were off tending to their fields, so they only saw a few moving about. Barry waved at the bakery owner, Sue, as he passed, and Gary gave her a nod of greeting. The friendly lady waved back, beaming a smile at them.

They eventually came to the woodworking shop, and Barry held the door open for him. As he stepped inside, he was met with a sea of faces: both woodworkers, Brad and Greg; the tailors, Ruby and Steven; Barry’s wife, Helen, and her sister-in-law, Barbara; and Sue, the wife of the infamously grumpy farmer.

All smiled or nodded at him, and he dipped his head in response.

“Now that we’re all here,” Barry said, “would you like to start, Ruby?”

The middle-aged woman’s smile went wide as she bent and picked up a box.

“I’ve finally finished the robes! The stitchwork took longer than expected, but I suppose that’s not really a surprise—we had to source some fine materials.”

“Fine indeed,” Steven, her husband, agreed.

“And that’s not even the best part!” Ruby continued. “The effects! Each transformed, and they give a bonus to luck and cultivation speed, whatever that means. The embroidery is royal blue, with just a hint of gold added in to reflect the—”

Steven cleared his throat.

“You’re rambling, dear.”

She shot him a venomous look, but then sighed to herself.

“I suppose I was.” She started walking around the room and passing out small bundles. “Let me know if they don’t fit. They should, though, if the measurements you gave me were correct.”

As Gary accepted his robe, a great weight was shed from his shoulders.

Despite his ready acceptance of joining the church, each time he was called to a meeting, a sense of anxiety rose from within. He supposed it was a remnant of the scary stories his drunk auntie would tell about churches when he was a wee lad.

He unfolded the bundle, running his hands along the expensive-feeling fabric as he did so. The main robe was as dark as the ocean’s depths—more colorless than the night sky. On the front, right above where his heart would be, a stylized pattern had been embroidered. It was the light blue of the ocean and depicted a fishing rod with a fish hooked on the end. To the top left of the embroidery, a golden sun shone down, beaming its rays toward the fishing rod.

Gary felt his anxiety recede further; the pattern filled him with a sense of deep calm.

His moment of peace lasted less than half a breath; it shattered the moment Barry spoke.

“So, shall we vote on how we’re going to deal with the blacksmiths?”