It should've gone better than this, Nunu thought. The blue bird hadn't been prepared for an Iceborn to swing up the tree branches, leap into the air, and drag it back to the ground. Thanks to Cara's magic, they'd managed to calm it down and make it obedient.
Then Fareed had returned, his face serious and alert, warning of people hot on their trail, the Wings of Demacia being one of them.
The Notai boy had also learned why 'eagle eyes' was a phrase about people with sharp vision. If it wasn't for the blue bird, he would've never known a woman was hiding in the bushes. While the purple mercenary and the hammer-girl had stomped around the forest, the leader of the group had been moving as silent as Fareed when he was up the mountain edges.
The battle had been filled with twists and turns, like Roan and his family being mages and his parents able to summon lightning. It had been spectacular just like in the stories of heroes defeating bad guys, and the bad guys had surrendered after Willump hugged their leader. But unlike the stories, there was no laughter afterwards, or shaking each other's hands, or the bad guys apologizing.
Instead, there were grunts and moans from the camp as the two parents huddled with Roan and his sister, tending bruises. Fareed, touched gingerly a swollen cheek as he kept watch on Mister Mercenary and the small hammer-girl. Braum, who had blood smeared on his scalp and nose, kneeled over Cara whispering gentle words as Shiza treated the bolt-wound on the girl.
They'd won the battle. He should feel elated and taste the sweetness of victory but Nunu felt like he had dirt in his mouth. It should've gone better than this, there shouldn't have been any casualties on the good side. A bloody nose or a bruise, sure, but not a bolt sticking out of a child. It wasn't something that happened in a hero story. It was all because of that woman, the so-called Wings of Demacia, the leader of the group, who was currently locked in Willump's double-hug.
"Are you proud of yourself?" Nunu asked hotly. "Shooting a child?"
The woman had a scowl on her face, which fit her character. It made her look older and more evil. She didn't reply immediately, instead observing Nunu as if swallowing every detail of him.
"You're not from southern Freljord, are you?" she asked.
"No need to answer." Fareed cut in before Nunu had a chance to reply. "The less words we share with her the better."
The woman sank her gaze on the tanned man instead. "And you're not from Demacia or Freljord. That tan and that accent, Shurima?"
The edge of Fareed's axe danced close to the woman's neck. "Wrong."
"The weapon you're holding is Shuriman." This time it was Mister Mercenary who had chimed in. Even lying on his stomach and with his hands tied behind his back, he seemed dangerous. Part of it due to his size, even bigger than Braum, but mostly due to his face being so hideous. Pock-marked and heavy wrinkles across his face, like the bark of an old tree. The purple skin made it look as if he had an illness.
Fareed shrugged. "Maybe."
"It is Shuriman." the mercenary insisted. "A relic from the ancient empire. Legends say it was used to slay one of the god-warriors."
"If that's true, then I'm surprised how it hasn't turned to dust yet." A lazy smile plastered across Fareed's face, but it seemed forced. "Are you a Shuriman archeologist?"
The mercenary laughed. "I'm more of an relic, if anything."
Normally, words like 'legends', 'relics' and 'ancient empire' would hook in Nunu like Willump to mossy stones. Those words hinted at wonderful stories that would perhaps fit in a Notai's collection. But Nunu had been staring at the scowling woman and his anger festered, curling his toes and knotting his stomach until it all spilled out of him.
"Why are you looking so normal?" he shouted at the woman. His voice rang through the make-shift camp, turning people's heads. "Why are you not even looking sad or guilty of what you've done? Aren't you a hero around here?"
The woman's expression didn't move nor twitch, as if it was cut in stone. "And what is a hero supposed to do?"
"Heroic stuff, like.. like saving people from evil monsters. Not shooting innocent girls!"
"Innocent? Do you even know what—"
Her words were clamped shut by a massive yeti hand.
At the same time, a big palm patted Nunu on the head.
"Little leader isn't feeling so fresh," Braum said gently. "Perhaps you could make her eyes dazzle with one of your stories, no?"
Nunu was about to argue when Braum pushed him towards Shiza and Cara. "Don't worry, Braum will hold the fort here." The Iceborn's voice was firm like packed snow.
Perhaps it was better to tell some stories. Nunu had a hard time thinking straight when he looked at the Demacian hero. He'd heard of her and the fancy titles, like ranger-knight and how she was sponsored by a noble house, and how she was the best ranger in the whole nation. It somehow made it even worse.
"Okay," he said, "but can you keep an extra watch on hammer-girl over there? Everyone is so focused on Mister Mercenary and the bird-lady."
The thick brows of Braum squinted into confusion. "Hammer… girl?"
"The one over there." Nunu pointed at the small bundle next to the purple mercenary.
He had tied up the white-haired girl after the battle, when he noticed that none of the others seemed to care. He wasn't sure if the person even was a girl, he just assumed so due to the two pigtails and big eyes. She certainly didn't fight like a girl, Her swing had chipped one of Willump's teeth and the yeti was still occasionally wagging his jaw as if something was loose. But as soon as Mister Mercenary dropped his weapon, hammer-girl turned surprisingly servile, or perhaps it was after Fareed took custody of her hammer.
The weapon in question was now in a pile next to the village family, together with daggers, a crossbow, a big staff with a flame that refused to go off, and other stuff they found with the trio. Nunu had also retrieved his orange short-cloak again.
As soon as Nunu pointed the uncertainty in Braum's eyes lifted and his face softened in surprise. Fareed had a startled expression and even the angry woman squinted.
They were all staring at the roped up hammer-girl, whose eyes were round as the moon.
"You!" she shouted with a rough voice. She rolled around, struggling against the ropes as she tried to worm closer towards the boy and the Iceborn. "How did you remove it?"
"Remove what?" Nunu asked.
"My glamour! How did you—"
"You look just like a poro!" Braum swept up the white-haired girl in his arms.
Seeing the attention Braum gave the hammer-girl, Nunu felt more at ease. He caught a glimpse of Roan tucked in the warm embrace of his mother before he scurried away to Cara and Shiza by a bed of grass.
The girl's green cloak was splattered in blood. Her face was pale and she winced with Shiza's every move.
"That big friend of yours has a kind heart," Shiza said when Nunu sat down, "but his hands look like they were made to smash mountains."
"He actually did it once," Nunu replied.
The Illuminator blinked but didn't push the question further, instead pointed to the bolt still stuck in Cara's chest. "See that?"
Nunu reached for it when the older woman grabbed his wrist.
"Are you crazy?" she hissed, "pulling it out would only make things worse, especially out here."
He retracted his hand, rolled them into balls, and placed them on top of his knees.
"Big man said you're a storyteller," Shiza continued, as she pulled out linen and bottles from her belt. "Can you tell some of them to Cara? Just to distract her while I'm cleaning her wound. I need her to stay awake. Also, wipe the sweat off her face with this."
The sweat sat on Cara's face like dew on a leaf. Her eyes fluttered open when Nunu dabbed a napkin on her forehead.
"A story," Nunu muttered, he gathered himself. "Hey, Cara, have you heard of how an angry barbarian married a warmother?"
The girl slowly shook her head.
"Well, you see… long ago, or maybe not so long after all, there was a barbarian tribe living close to the Avarosans. The Avarosans is another tribe in Freljord who—"
Cara's face scrunched in pain as Shiza began to treat the wound. The young girl shook her head, throwing her dark hair around. She bared her teeth but she didn't scream.
"Good girl," Shiza said. "You're strong, Cara." The Illuminator then gave Nunu a look to continue with the story.
"Ehm…well, the… the Avarosans has a warmother, that's like a chief, a leader, who is an Iceborn. She has white hair like snow and carries a mystical bow and—"
Cara grabbed one of Nunu's hands, squeezing. She kicked with her legs and arched her back.
"Hold her down," Shiza ordered. "Sit on her legs if you must."
Cara's hands were clammy from sweat but she seemed to shiver.
"Should we call Fareed?" Nunu asked.
"He needs to guard the ranger-knight and the others. You saw what the giant mercenary could do all by himself. Back in Uwendale, the man beat almost half the townguards."
"Roan then," Nunu tried, "or his parents."
Shiza stopped cleaning and looked straight at the boy. "Are you scared?"
"No!"
"Then sit on her legs and continue with your story."
The boy glanced towards his yeti friend, who seemed busy now holding both the bird and the angry lady. He felt a bit lost without Willump by his side.
"I want to hear a Shiza story."
It took a moment for Nunu to identify the voice to be Cara's. It had been barely a whisper but the whiny tone belonged unmistakably to the girl. She had loosened her grip on Nunu too.
"I need to clean your wound, Cara," Shiza chided.
"Please."
The woman wiped away strand of hair off Cara's face. She then doused another cloth with a bottle of liquid before throwing Nunu a glare. The boy promptly sat on top of Cara's legs.
Shiza let out a sigh.
There once was a boy who fell into a well.
Fortunately, it wasn't deep enough to hurt him badly.
Unfortunately, it was deep enough so he couldn't climb back up.
But he tried. The boy tried his best to climb up the well. His fingers ached and bled from how much he pushed and willed himself up the stony walls, only to fall and splash water and soak himself more.
As night rolled into his vision, the darkness seemed to surround him, pitch black and cold. He rubbed his arms for warmth and screamed for help but nobody came.
A few days passed when someone finally peered into the well.
It was a man, tall and big, the image of strength and power.
"How did you fall in?" the man asked. He was so massive that he couldn't fall in even if he tried.
"I don't know," the boy replied, "it just happened."
"Have you tried to climb out?"
"I did but I'm too weak."
The man frowned, rubbing his chin in confusion. "But those stones have some of the easiest grips I've seen."
"Please help me out," the boy pleaded.
"Don't worry, even you can't fail with this." The man threw down a rope. "Just tie the rope around your waist and hold on."
The boy obeyed. He tied the rope around his waist and gripped tightly.
The man began to pull. Half-way through, the rope unfurled and the boy fell and splashed water.
"You stupid boy," the man shouted. His loud voice bounced off the stones. "You didn't tie the knot well enough. Do it correct this time!"
The boy felt like he was being bashed by the man's hard and hurtful words.
He wanted to ask how to tie a knot well but he was too afraid that the man would shout again.
"Come on!" the man shouted. "Everyone can tie a simple knot!"
Fearing to anger the man further, the boy numbly obeyed, only for the knot to once again unfurl half-way up.
The boy spat out water and wiped his eyes.
"Useless." The man shook his head. "You're useless." He then walked away, leaving the boy inside the well.
The next day, a woman found the well. Her face was noble and she wore the robes of a scholar. Unlike the man, she was thin enough to fit inside. When the woman leaned over the well to take a closer look at the boy, a pendant glinted around her neck with a symbol of a winged sword. Not only was she smart and noble, she was also a devotee of the Winged Protector!
"Help," the boy shouted desperately. "Please help me out!"
The woman's eyes narrowed and she clicked her tongue. "You shouldn't play haphazardly near a well." If the man's voice was loud and pummeling, the woman's was sharp and cutting.
"But I didn't," the boy insisted.
"You must've been reckless, or stupid , or something even worse. How else would you fall into a well this big?"
"It was an accident," the boy pleaded. "Please, help me."
"There are no accidents," the woman said. "All is God's will and you must be inside the well for a reason."
"I'm not smart like you, can you tell me the reason why I'm inside?"
"No, you have to figure it out yourself."
Then the woman left.
More days passed, when a third person looked into a well. A girl, much younger than him.
The boy didn't try to say anything. She wouldn't be strong enough to lift him out of the well with her sticks for arms, nor would she be smart enough to use any tools to help him. It would be a waste to spend his last energy on her. So he ignored her and drank water to fill his empty stomach when suddenly a big splash made him splutter.
The girl stood before him with wet hair and drenched clothes.
"Are you crazy?!" the boy screamed. "Now we're both stuck in the well!"
"Yes," she replied, smiling widely, "but isn't it comforting, knowing that there's another person stuck as well?"
Cara wasn't struggling anymore. Her breath was stable and her eyes were locked on Shiza as the woman finished the last of the treatment.
"What happens next?" Nunu asked. He'd found himself enthralled by the story. It hadn't been as bombastic as the Freljordian myths or whimsical like the tales of Braum. It had been strangely different, albeit in an interesting way.
Shiza closed her satchel. "That's the end of it."
"What?" Nunu almost leaped off his seat, which made Cara wince with pain as the boy had previously been sitting on top of her legs. "Oh, sorry, Cara. Wait, what do you mean that's the end of it?"
Shiza tilted her head. "You don't agree?"
"No!" Nunu couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There should be a proper ending to a story."
"I liked it," Cara said in her small voice.
Her reply made Nunu falter. Perhaps all the stories around here were like this.
"Is this a fable from Demacia?" he asked.
"No," Shiza replied, "just something I made up."
Nunu's jaw dropped. "It's your story?"
"It's a story." Shiza said, putting emphasis on a different word than Nunu's.
"But it's a story you made up, right?"
The Illuminator pulled on her white-cloak. "Why does that matter?"
"My mom says that there's a story behind every single thing." Nunu pressed on. "And all stories wish to be told. So if this is a story you made up, it means that there's something in there you wish for the listener to understand."
Shiza seemed surprised. Her lips pressed to a line and her gaze looked at Nunu with a new light. "Nunu, was it?" she said, "Since you're a storyteller let me ask you this: Why do you tell stories to others?"
"To entertain," Nunu replied, "To have something to talk and bond about."
"That's it?"
Nunu thought for another moment. "To learn?"
Shiza shrugged.
"I give up. What's the answer?"
"I don't know." A small grin slipped out of her. "I just wanted to hear your answer."
"That's not fair!"
Soft laughter tickled the grass. It had come from Cara, her face dressed in amusement after seeing the exchange between the Illuminator and the Notai boy.
"How are you?" Nunu asked, feeling guilty that he'd for a moment forgotten about the girl and her pain.
"I'm okay." Cara, with the help from Shiza, got up to a sitting position, "but what are we going to do with this?" She pointed to the bolt sticking out of her chest.
"We'll remove it when we get back to our base," Shiza explained.
"And what about the Wings of Demacia?" Nunu asked.
The Illuminator glanced towards the crowded camp a dozen feet away.
"I haven't decided yet," she confessed. "Perhaps I should talk to them."
"Leader to leader?" Nunu suggested.
"Sure." The small grin appeared again on Shiza's face. "Leader to leader."