It was once silent when night fell on the forest. It could only be silent.
When the sky glowed a deep indigo blue, when the trees were still, when
the pools faded to blackness - that was when anything other than silence
was blasphemous.
It was silent no longer. Human chatter and laughter wafted on the wind - garish, grating noise. Oxen lowed in a deep, stupid chorus. Sometimes the watchmen chimed a false alarm, banging bits of iron together with a sound that made a being's spirit shrivel. But the whole cacophony was underpinned by the relentless rumble of the forge, a place where fire ruled and metal was made to glow and melt.
Tiny, iridescent insects scattered and chirped when something came up a path, pale and white in the moonlight. A new sound bounced around the forest - a bony rattle. Whatever was on the path faded into the night, then appeared again - a little, round, wide-eyed body scampering deftly over fallen logs and weathered rocks. It stopped and turned, rattling its head like an instrument.
Something new came silently up the path, something like an eerie dream vision of a wolf. Its white fur moved fluidly in the wind, but this creature walked upright in a way almost human.
The round-bodied sprite walked on with its short, rapid gait as if it were leading the wolflike apparition. It stopped before a ruin, a giant, sagging wooden building half-consumed by long grasses and spreading green moss. Trees extended their branches covetously over the roof, as if reclaiming their own, and moonlight shone through the rotted shingles and walls.
The wolf-creature paused and looked up. The head fell back to reveal a face positively human, a young face with eyes that glimmered with vitality. Her short brown hair rippled in the wind like the wolf-fur, and three angry, blood-colored triangles stood out on her skin - one atop her forehead, the others down her cheeks - like war paint.
She looked into the building, then back down at the little creature just in time to see it fade away, its round eyes mournful. Sniffing the air, she caught the tinge of sweat and iron on it. It came from the west, where sparks and firelit smoke squatted over the trees. Her eyes narrowed with contempt - that forge was a place for humans.
The building she stood next to had once been a place for humans too, but not anymore. The old forge inside it sat neglected and misshapen, a squat, benign black hulk. Weeds and grasses grew where the fires once raged. Humans no longer had any place here; only the spirits did.
But she saw no spirits here. The little round tree spirit that led her there had vanished, and no others came. Field mice did not play in the grass beneath this roof and birds did not nest in the beams. She paused. It wasn't wise for her to go where the animals would not.
Another wisp of human chatter drifted in on the wind. The new town was not far, and she knew Ashitaka would be coming, perhaps soon. Her feet made no noise as she slipped in the vast entrance.
Her vision was sharp, but it was too dark to see inside. She used her nose, picking her way through the discarded stones and tools tangled in the weeds. Mostly she smelled the forest - wet bark, soft green leaves, dry grass.
Something else caught her notice - dust, then the scent of iron - iron and sweat and burning wood, the smell of the forge. She found it stronger than ever when she came into the forge's shadow. It was cold there, and she pulled the wolfskin tight, her bones quivering.
A face sprang out of the gloom, pale, wide-eyed and openmouthed, the face of a very young girl lying in the ashes where nothing grew. The eyes blinked - it was living - and a chance shaft of moonlight shone along the white arm extended toward the visitor with pleading fingers.
It was silent no longer. Human chatter and laughter wafted on the wind - garish, grating noise. Oxen lowed in a deep, stupid chorus. Sometimes the watchmen chimed a false alarm, banging bits of iron together with a sound that made a being's spirit shrivel. But the whole cacophony was underpinned by the relentless rumble of the forge, a place where fire ruled and metal was made to glow and melt.
Tiny, iridescent insects scattered and chirped when something came up a path, pale and white in the moonlight. A new sound bounced around the forest - a bony rattle. Whatever was on the path faded into the night, then appeared again - a little, round, wide-eyed body scampering deftly over fallen logs and weathered rocks. It stopped and turned, rattling its head like an instrument.
Something new came silently up the path, something like an eerie dream vision of a wolf. Its white fur moved fluidly in the wind, but this creature walked upright in a way almost human.
The round-bodied sprite walked on with its short, rapid gait as if it were leading the wolflike apparition. It stopped before a ruin, a giant, sagging wooden building half-consumed by long grasses and spreading green moss. Trees extended their branches covetously over the roof, as if reclaiming their own, and moonlight shone through the rotted shingles and walls.
The wolf-creature paused and looked up. The head fell back to reveal a face positively human, a young face with eyes that glimmered with vitality. Her short brown hair rippled in the wind like the wolf-fur, and three angry, blood-colored triangles stood out on her skin - one atop her forehead, the others down her cheeks - like war paint.
She looked into the building, then back down at the little creature just in time to see it fade away, its round eyes mournful. Sniffing the air, she caught the tinge of sweat and iron on it. It came from the west, where sparks and firelit smoke squatted over the trees. Her eyes narrowed with contempt - that forge was a place for humans.
The building she stood next to had once been a place for humans too, but not anymore. The old forge inside it sat neglected and misshapen, a squat, benign black hulk. Weeds and grasses grew where the fires once raged. Humans no longer had any place here; only the spirits did.
But she saw no spirits here. The little round tree spirit that led her there had vanished, and no others came. Field mice did not play in the grass beneath this roof and birds did not nest in the beams. She paused. It wasn't wise for her to go where the animals would not.
Another wisp of human chatter drifted in on the wind. The new town was not far, and she knew Ashitaka would be coming, perhaps soon. Her feet made no noise as she slipped in the vast entrance.
Her vision was sharp, but it was too dark to see inside. She used her nose, picking her way through the discarded stones and tools tangled in the weeds. Mostly she smelled the forest - wet bark, soft green leaves, dry grass.
Something else caught her notice - dust, then the scent of iron - iron and sweat and burning wood, the smell of the forge. She found it stronger than ever when she came into the forge's shadow. It was cold there, and she pulled the wolfskin tight, her bones quivering.
A face sprang out of the gloom, pale, wide-eyed and openmouthed, the face of a very young girl lying in the ashes where nothing grew. The eyes blinked - it was living - and a chance shaft of moonlight shone along the white arm extended toward the visitor with pleading fingers.