The valley surrounded by mountains looked green and inviting. Numerous brooks cascaded down, joining into numerous rivers passing through young woods of evergreens, oaks, and birches gathering in small groves. All along the rivers flourished tiny villages.
In one such village, two villagers sat comfortably at a rustic, wooden table set outside a small, rustic, wooden cabin with a low, sloping roof. Other houses nearby looked the same. Noon sun poured down warmly over the scene.
Turning his squinting, green eyes from the friendly sun, one of the two villagers gave the other an uncertain look.
"Maybe you should just stay another day, Grake. It's already noon and your village is far. You are not as young as you used to be."
The other villager, an elderly fellow in green gown, carelessly waved it off and brought a steaming cup of tea to take another sip.
"Mmmh. No, I don't wish to inconvenience you much longer. Just going to finish this cup of tea. It's so good."
The other villager smiled a little, pleased, but then his eyes strayed to the half-empty pot sitting between them on the table. "Yes. You said that three cups ago. Stay and I will make you all the tea you want."
"Hmmm." The visiting villager confirmed, his wrinkles hiding a warm smile that also shone in his eyes, still attentive despite his age.
"I have to get going. Otherwise, my neighbors will decide that I am not coming back and move into my house. Last time I was gone for long, my things went missing and it took me forever to find out who borrowed them." The elderly villager chuckled a little, at which the other smiled, but then shook his head with disapproval.
"I don't know why you still live there, Grake. That's why I left years ago. And look at me now, an elder of my village." The hosting villager proudly straightened his chin but then relaxed back against the cushion propped up against the stiff back of his wooden chair. The comfortable feeling of a day off work induced sleepiness. "You should also come and move in with me."
The other villager shook his head.
"No, no, I am far too old for that kind of change in life, Bart. I am fine where I am. But thank you for inviting me over."
"Of course, of course." The other villager nodded. "It may be only once every few years, but we are friends and ought to stay in touch. It's Jalil's turn to come and visit next, right?"
The visiting villager nodded, but didn't answer more, simply enjoying his cup of tea for a minute longer. The other watched him, his posture relaxed, but some concern showing in his green eyes.
"I'll send my grand-nephews to you if you ever need help. All right, Grake? Don't be afraid to ask."
Several little villagers ran past their house, laughing as they played chase, and the two older villagers followed them with their eyes, both of them smiling a little. Their life was calm and good. Everything was as it should be.
The other villager sighed and reluctantly placed his cup on the table.
"Well, I best be going." He said and his friend nodded, accepting his decision. The visiting villager's eyes held on the woods where led a narrow, little used trail, and a small sigh escaped him, since he didn't look forward to long hours of walking home entirely alone. Still, he got up and so did his friend.
"May we meet again, old friend." The hosting villager gave his friend a strong bear hug, firmly patting his back with hands calloused by much work. The other villager humphed in agreement.
Letting his friend go, the villager watched his friend start walking away. Only when the figure in green gown disappeared among the lush greenery of the trees did the villager calmly look at the empty cup on the other side of the table with regret. Again, he humphed with slight disapproval and glanced at the sun already high in the sky. Shaking his head, he placed the pot and the cups on a tray and carefully carried it to the house.
Grake continued to walk, his pace unhurried as he enjoyed the smell of pine and wildflowers growing all around the tiny meadows where the trail passed.
Five hours later, the trail twisted, coming up a familiar mountain side from where the elderly villager glimpsed the deep, blue depths of the lake trapped within rocky shores. He humphed, relieved. He made good time and was sure to reach his village long before sunset. He could even slow down now. There was no hurry.
The villager stopped for a small lunch, which he enjoyed sitting down on a large, flat rock. His green eyes strayed along the side of the woods when they noted a berry bush, so heavily covered with sweet berries that its branches bent low to the ground.
Tempted, the villager kept looking at it. There was no hurry. He had plenty of time. He could make so many good things from sweet berries. Pies, custard, sweet berry juice, tea.
"Mmmmh." Tempting images passed before the villager's eyes and he gave in. Putting away his lunch, he produced a basket and moved to the berry bush. As he approached, he saw another berry bush behind it. And, just a few steps away into the forest, there were three, no, four more!
Gathering berries as basket after another basket was dismissed into inventory, the old villager forgot about time until the distant rumble of thunder pulled him out of his enthusiastic effort.
Green eyes opening wide, the elder startled and stared into the distance of the sky, where heavy, dark clouds had begun to gather in an ominous promise of a storm. A hurried glance at the sun found it already hiding behind the line of the trees, which cast long shadows all around the villager.
Startled, he blinked at the sight. Another distant roll of thunder chased him back to the trail, where he half walked, half ran, his lips twisting with disapproval at his own carelessness.
A lone villager had no business travelling through the woods at night all alone! All kinds of dangerous things came out at night and not all of them ignored villagers despite them being overall peaceful and placid beings.
Half an hour later it was already nearly dark. Night fell swiftly over the woods, casting down shadows. The wind stirred the branches where the elder walked, the trees towering around him like silent, gloomy guardians. And distant flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, continuing to warn about the approaching storm.
Grake's posture stooped a little and his hands began to shake as nervousness settled over him about being caught outside the village so late in the day.
A loud roll of thunder startled the villager. Stumbling, he lost his footing and fell, just as a tremendous flash of lightning struck almost directly above him. Again and again, the lightning streaked through darkening sky and the very ground seemed to shake, making the old villager curl up in fear, his hands protectively clasping his bald head.
Finally, the thunder quieted. The elderly villager waited a bit, before peeking through his fingers. Seeing only the furry ever-greens and thick bushes surround him, the villager dared to lift his head. And that's when he heard it, a faint small cry coming from somewhere to his left a little away from the trail. It sounded like a baby. But what could a baby be doing this far out in the woods?
Hesitantly, the villager rose to his feet and looked in that direction, debating with himself. Shaking his head, he cautiously stepped off the trail into the woods.
A little later, grumbling under his nose about his own foolishness, he struggled through the last barrier of thick foliage and stepped over some thick roots into a clearing where a momentous oak rose high into the sky. Gusts of wind sent waves across the tall grass.
Blinking with astonishment, the old villager held his watery green eyes on that tree. He tried to think back but could not recall ever seeing this tree before. And he could not have not noticed it before, so tall and mighty, rising a good measure above the rest, which seemed to have drawn away from this giant to give it ample space.
The weak cry repeated, distracting the villager from the tree and drawing his puzzled gaze to its roots. It was from there that the sound came from.
The villager shuffled forward, stepping cautiously through the tall, thick grass and hoping not to come across any dangerous creature that might be lurking there. But all was quiet. Strangely so. Even the air itself seemed eerily still, as the villager approached the tree and stopped, looking down in confusion.
There, nestled between the dark roots was a small white bundle. Something moved beneath the crumpled cloth. Moonlight, breaking through the roiling clouds, briefly cast wandering beams, one of which fell and rested briefly upon the smooth, flowing cloth, illuminating a strange, curved symbol embroidered in glimmering silver.
The villager bent and carefully pulled away the edge of the cloth to peek underneath. He startled, gazing at what looked like a small baby hidden within. What surprised and worried the old villager was not so much that it was a baby. He was kind of expecting to find it as the source of the sounds he heard.
What surprised the old villager was that it was not a child of his race, common to live in these parts, but seemingly a Human child, its small face scrunched up and grimacing as it expressed to the world its discontent, its eyes tightly squeezed shut and its face glistening wet as if drops of rain had already fallen and trailed down the child's small cheeks.
A human baby left all alone in the middle of the woods? As far as the villager knew, humans were not that cruel, even though he did hear some rather scary stories. He didn't even know for sure if this child was Human. He just assumed that it might be, because of the fluffy brown fuzz visible on its head, the tiny button nose, and from the general shape of its body, just as he had seen Humans have in the pictures.
Where did it come from? The villager didn't even know where the nearest town of Humans might be, since all around their Valley lay dangerous, wild forests and glades filled with hostile things. Mountains crowded in ever growing crests, and turbulent rivers cascading through deep canyons, plunging off cliffs and forming impossible to cross obstacles. No one had ever left or entered these lands.
Humans could do impossible things, though.
And what was he going to do with it now that he found it? Take it back with him to the village? Take it to the elders? Somehow, the old villager doubted that they would be pleased. He, himself, strongly disliked the feeling he had about all this. The uncertainty and just... This fell far, far from the routines he was used to.
The baby made another small cry, inconsolable and exhausted, its little chin shaking in distress, more drops of water squeezing out and leaking from the corners of its shut eyes. It didn't know any better why it was here, all lost and alone. With an instinctive gesture, the old villager reached down and carefully lifted the human child. Gently pressing it close against his chest, he made a hushing sound.
Immediately, the child quieted, its face relaxing. Feeling it's warmth through the thin cloth, it's rapid heartbeat and quick little breaths, the old villager smiled, reminded of when he held his children and then grandchildren just like this, long ago, all of them since grown up and already gone.
"Hush, little one. Hush... And what am I going to do with you?" The villager said softly and startled, when the baby blinked open its eyes and looked at him. A faint silvery light illuminated the villager's wrinkled face, then vanished, when the child's eyes drifted closed as it yawned wide with its toothless gums showing, its expression unsuspecting and trusting, as only a little baby might have.
"Do Humans have eyes like these?" The old villager asked himself, puzzled. And shrugged, not sure. He couldn't quite remember.
"I suppose the elders might know..." The villager decided, a slight frown coming to his face.
A distant wolf howl interrupted the villager's musing and he tensely glanced at the darkness thickly settling around him among the rustling trees. He needed to get back to the village. What was he doing standing around and asking questions?
Taking one more look at the strange baby's face, the old villager couldn't help a small smile. Comforted by the warmth, the Human child's expression seemed contented. He liked being held, just as the little Villager children.
"Well, look at that. You're not scared at all, little one... Even though you should be. I know I am..." The old villager murmured.
Gently, he tucked the white cloth tighter around the child, unwillingly fingering the soft, fine material and marveling at the skill of whoever made such a thing. He didn't even know what it was made of that it almost appeared to glow softly under the appearing and disappearing moonlight.
In the distance, another roll of thunder came rumbling across.
With a brief look around himself at the foreboding forest, the branches that waved in the picking up breeze, the villager pressed the baby closer to his chest and hurried to retrace his steps out of the clearance.
Walking back toward the trail, the villager cautiously glanced at the shadows slipping around him and stifled a shiver.
"Quite the little hero, aren't you?" He said softly to the quiet child. "Well, I'm not a hero. But I will do the right thing. So you are coming along with me, little fella. Let my neighbors grumble... I'm not leaving you behind... I will keep you safe until your parents come back... Hopefully they will come back... Unless they cannot?... I hope it was not them, who left you out here all alone... Because who would do such a thing to a baby?... Hurrr. I don't think they did... Your parents didn't leave you. Something else must have happened... Hmmm."
A pair of glowing red eyes opened in the formless foliage and then another, and another. The old villager gasped, briefly pausing step, only to walk faster, pressing the child closer to him with shaking, tired hands.
"I'm just imagining it. I'm just imagining it." The old villager began repeating to himself, trying to ignore the vague forms he glimpsed shift in the shadows, watching eerily after him as he fled.
At the sight of the familiar trail up ahead, the villager perked up. And gasped, freezing once more, as something blurred into view with a brief buzzing sound and purple glow of Travel magic. A tall, spindly form unfolded, blinking its lilac eyes.
Terrified, the villager squeezed his eyes shut, faintly shaking, while his heart thumped loudly in his chest. He held his breath, waiting, until he heard the soft warping sound that let him know that the alien monster had left.
Opening his eyes, the villager saw only faint purple particles dissolving in the darkness. Then, he was on the trail and shuffling as fast as his unsteady limbs allowed, this time silently. The bundle in his arms also remained quiet. Glancing down, the villager saw that the Human child was asleep, lulled by the motion and completely unaware of the dangers that surrounded him and the one who carried him.
Last few steps carried him from the trail into the bright edge of the torch lights that surrounded the outer perimeter of his home Village. Only there did the elderly villager stop and breathe heavily, catching his breath, before casting back a grateful glance at the retreated darkness.
Too weary to think about anything else but reaching the safety of his house, he shuffled along the village path straight toward the door of his dwelling, ignoring the curious remarks and looks that followed him.
"Grandpa Grake?" Another villager tried to follow him, only to stop as the elder, clutching a strange bundle to his chest, disappeared into his dwelling and shut the door in his face. A few of the villagers who have not yet gone to bed, peered out of their houses and exchanged curious looks.