Hilda and the Huntsman of Hamel Forest

by RuminatingKiwi927

The coexistence between humans and trolls is now in motion, the river flows frail but in time it will reach the waterfall. Out miles away from the high walls of Trolberg, the mountains, and the forest that blankets it, lays another forest obscene in maps and of humdrum mystery. It didn't hit that this forest contains a loose end with the trolls that have lingered too long, which w

HILDA
and
The Huntsman of Hamel Forest

=( RuminatingKiwi927 )=

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters (excluding the franchise) in this work are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or situations, is entirely coincidental.

Parts of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying with the provision of crediting the original author.

Published to Wattpad, Inkitt, and Archive of Our Own in 2023

Age Rating: Appropriate for readers aged 10 and above

My gratitude for the support given by the Hildacord community

Blue.

Perhaps deemed one of the most common colors to emerge when someone thinks about colors. When the clock chimes the new day, people would look for the sky and embrace their famed signature – blue. The color to be first told its name to the youth, a rare color for fruits but they always come in remarkable flavor, a color for a hair perhaps?

If the skies that have always sat there could speak and regarded everything under them, they would have a thousand more stories than all the oceans combined, which are of course – blue. But grazing their library of thoughts, mysterious or novel, renowned or obscure, this tale would most likely call for a new shelf.

Part I

The Forest of Hamel

1

The light of the sun sparks and speaks for life, it gleams from the far line, people could hear their voice. It's silent but it's there… calling them out. It outstrips the moon's air faster than a glint. By itself is a glamour, it made things different from what they appear to be, many things. So be it a paragon for those things, big or small that dwell under, particularly this one city surrounded by walls and mountains.

The remnants of cold rest as dews rest on leaves, it lingers there ensuring any day never begin too dry, a peculiar knack one might say, and so they too would uphold their same sentiment for the day, for it's a special day.

2

A communal trip, what a wonderful idea. Though the high walls are still a pristine mark, the accord between the two species does not limit any liberty for activities outside the walls. The Sparrow Scouts staff agreed to have a round table with the Trolberg Safety Patrol for a discussion of a rather different activity, so far the only residents that deal with nature are the scouts, and this seemed quite unfair, especially for those adults who have been a member of the Sparrow Scouts who would love experiencing the bliss again.

A delight when the results satisfied each and all, an outside activity that invites members of the Sparrow Scouts together with their parents or former members. They open and call for a donation to hold the event and the line to sign up was a jam but no details rest unchecked.

Spreading the large yet old map on the table with hopes of fine relevance – One pointed their finger at the far side of the map that displays a region so snug to establish the pastime, and It was content with their sways. In spite of recent heartwarming events, it would still be wise and sensible to avoid contact with any trolls. Clear any cause, they expected nothing less but a pleasant-flowing occasion within the human noggin with modest animals, and for once a scruple set a little higher. Besides, they haven't good time or outside fellows that would be much of a help to recce every square mile, otherwise they were merely too afraid to ask.

The team drove their cars full-tank to the location, and see the open grass unswayed. It felt as if it spoke to them, come and see, come and view the meek field. It gave the team a good smile, they couldn't resist plotting the grass like a printer once they disembark. Hurtle the mind could this be another charm of The Great Raven, they might just foster the next festival.

The team worked diligently to compress all the primary details into a single yellow cardstock page for them to utilize; sections of families who signed, activity timetable, dragnets for any last-minute changes, and other things to balance between rules and some breather for any respected prerogative, so much that an Elf observing from a tree would write a minimum of three pages just for that report.

3

The night manifested well, it a fine like any other, some don't just go too placid but in some corners where embossed letters of house plates are just begging to be shunned. The city's lights never ceased their peculiar harmony it's amazing the city never encountered any matters with light-attracted creatures. Perhaps they simply reside on some far side of the world or have some sense of esteem humans took for granted.

But one of those many places is, a house hunky-dory but holds a magnet to conundrum, at least until a certain point. Looking past the pane of glass with the blinds up as if it was been jammed ever since; a rested little girl with a dear smile who ensued her sleep. She made quite a name for herself in quite short time, probably not remarkably short, as far as words go around The name 'Hilda' echoes the air. How many times should anything happen to fashion any day typical? Oh, and there it is on her… blue, and her beloved white cuddlesome.

However, subsequent downcast does not induce what excitement is, it makes your entire world flutter just from the skin or the body warmth that broils the air merry, it's a delight she managed to shutter her mind into sleep, for tomorrow's be the day.

4

Swinging through the hall after a fine breakfast and a speedy bath, uniform astute from head to feet, and her good last look at her house until a few days left to the care of Tontu, also a packed car outside, she knew very well about Sparrow Scouts always come prepared, but something tells her that always come prepared defeats the venture for scouts, where's the gaiety when one ever knows what to do?

All families are to bring their cars and gather before the gate of Trolberg, the convoy will depart at 9 AM sharp and be led by a Trolberg safety off-road and tailed by a school bus filled with staff. Another off-road would remain before the gate until 12 AM to aid any family that got into some apparent complications.

The road itself wasn't that all-familiar. Most of the cars have made Trolberg fit as their habitat no different than parrotlets that won't fly away even if the house was made out of open windows. The wheels' gentle shrill on the asphalt echoes each car, they turned on the radio and listen to Trolberg's many stations minus the weather while hoping their favored tunes don't drown in static any time soon as they stray and stray away. The sun's fires peer over the mountains, and once in a while it hides behind the passing clouds – or a wandering weather spirit maybe! Like a long game of nonsensical whack-a-mole and your hammer is the sun visor, there's no way of telling from this range.

Also that a few scouts couldn't play the run on the electric lines little game, they got creative and invented a new one, spot the troll rock! Through their flimsy walkie-talkie. Of course, Hilda would've quashed everyone in this game so she eased herself off and gladden herself audience, a grin whenever she spotted one that everyone missed, this is when she got the consent to emphasize herself among the channel – now that's gaiety.

"Missed one." She said

"Another one, behind the old well." She grinned.

After some time that which the mindset of children would consider plenty. The unimpaired Spiralia of a convoy that later fragments itself into tiny pieces arrived at the fain field, the mere sight of the field itself evinced a mirage of lukewarm wind that couldn't stir a blade of grass, nonetheless worth a good mirth.

The cars rest their whine and rumble on an assigned area – good range and covert from where most of the days would be spent. Everyone then set down and unloaded their things which ranges from necessary to likely and some to why even bother that ostensibly slips through the rules' crack. Once their short work was done, the virtue-scratchy model of the city makes himself known. Erik Ahlberg in a Sparrow Scouts uniform that looked surprisingly striking, though he kept his prominent hat and boots for the apparel to remind everyone who he was – he is dignified, so who could blame him anyway. If not for his awoval, he would have looked for something to set the brim of his hat a little higher or relieve the signature gesture of his grandfather, but not this time.

He asked the Raven Leader for the megaphone, thumped the speaker a few times followed by a fake cough, then he announced:

"We certainly hope you're finished and the ride here didn't drain any fervent on this beautiful day, we'll be moving on to the preparations soon, I'm sure you all have the timetable at hand." He spoke lively with serene smile as if he got great hilarity trying to crawl out his mouth.

"Study the map and feel free to ask if there's any trouble, any additional information will be posted on the board at both camps and we got an hour ahead before the ceremony... Remember!" He pointed at the sky "We're the guest of nature all in this together, so it would be best to make ourselves home right away." There's still that bit of needling in his voice, but his message is valid; he did not memorize a two minute-script, came from the heart. He turned over the megaphone to the Raven Leader.

"Thank you Mister Ahlberg. Right, now you've all heard that. Set up your camps Sparrow Scouts, and seniors too. As per yesterday's briefing, Sparrow Scouts and seniors will have their own sets of activities, some of which we will be joint forces. Let's see who could build better camps, shall we?" She emphasizes her fine accent faintly. "We don't want to find our parents getting soft – otherwise, this camp wouldn't be very fair!" She bowed a little with a squint. The crowd laughed and families looked at each other.

The scouts and their parents then go on their separate ways after a clumsy goodbye, some length is put between both camps with only the wind to shield between chatter of both. It's like water and oil, some suspect when they're going to work together would resemble mixing the two liquids – you can't. But perhaps it's best to leave the gist at their leisure, there's no room for it during hustle.

Marked first on the timetable is the ceremony, the flag wavers high foaming the afternoon wind of a thousand whiff familiar yet unfamiliar. They sang their march in concord, hopefully they work as good as they sing. Salute the flag, put your arms down and be at ease! – hear Erik again as he indeed stepped on the platform alongside the flag pole much less he did prior his new uniform. Now with a script that ought to be read with the staff rowed behind him like his own set of troops.

He spoke to the tone of a captain whose wishes their last breath on thine own ship:

"On this fine day, we welcome you ladies and gentlemen as well as our honored Sparrow Scouts to Greenhold Communal, I would like to express this message – scouts are the order of spirit and character of the youth that paints independence, and we gather here to assure ourselves of its sincerity between two generations.

When Trolberg was standing bare without the walls, the people found themselves with tools and apparatus we today take as creed truth, to live in their moment and time is essential to reminisce our radical identity, that of which is one of Sparrow Scouts' main pillars, through sweat and labor. We must be strong, resolute, and by no means give up because there are no challenges Sparrow Scouts cannot resolve.

We hope this communal camp between Sparrow Scouts and their former members would recollect those memoirs and live by our values and sacred oath. This is where our lessons would finally come alive, out here... one and all in this together with nature as there is no better ambient than nature itself." He then folded the script while keeping his smile. "I would personally wish you all good luck, go forth and shine the torch of Trolberg's mettle. Thank you."

He then gave a salute and everyone else followed, later stepping down from the platform.

5

Short grass, plebeian trees, bonfire, superb view of the mountain ranges sculpted by the giants. The crews have outdone themselves with the location, it's unmatched anywhere meandering around Trolberg. This is as far as Hilda has gone from the city, even her old house. It never craned to her that Sparrow Scouts could ever have an activity this far from the population center, maybe ever since the placidity with the trolls, it really had pushed the confines of Trolberg farther than she had given credit for.

There are some coherent grounds nevertheless. The site of the camps is understood to have little troll activity yet the Trolberg Safety is transparent enough to inform such obtained reports are rather old, but these old reports are shown to be just as fresh when the game Spot the Troll Rock! Impeded the closer the convoy reaches the site, the prevention of an event that a member of the camp ran into a troll or a troll running into the camp during nighttime is still peak priority. However, that old report also has a riveting footnote, and that is the forest a good distance away but evident to all eyes… The Forest of Hamel….

The Forest of Hamel, a forest whose vastness rivals the Forest of Nott and trees adversaries the Great Forest, yet the forest is crudely drawn on any known map, but the mutual aspect is that this forest is an island among the landscape. It's not coupled to any other forests or groves and only touched the heel of mountains, it floats on its own without a care in the world. The old books of Trolberg's library varied in opinions on how the forest was shaped, or how it even got its name.

For such why little information is known about the forest is due to cartographers couldn't bring themselves deep into the forest, not even if they tied themselves to a rope with a fellow behind standing guard with a reel, ready to pull them in any sign of danger. the Forest of Hamel itself is contrary to the Forest of Nott when it comes to trolls. The forest was thick with trees, some trees even bigger than small giants drawn in books, sunlight only penetrates the thick leaves that number in trillion total at certain places, such extents like these would lure trolls even more than the Great Forest inside as they are protected from the sunlight.

However, despite modest claims, there hadn't been an iota of reports where trolls had come out from the forest during nighttime albeit such observations were stated since around 25 years ago.

Rumors pass tardily like a fire on wet wood on why trolls keep entering the forest but never reveal themselves again at night: The trolls winded up on some ravine, plunging around whatever left is in there. The trolls dug themselves home or made their home from rocks and timber they sanded with their fingers. The forest itself was home to a giant rock-chewing-slug that actually had the ability to rule trolls – most of them are just fabrication that comes out from a person's mouth that recently hit head on the stair wall, but some are also fair to heed, a simple tale being sold around.

If it makes any difference, the forest is deemed too dangerous and no merit had been shown that vindicates if traveling deep into the forest is really worthwhile, the ballyhoo on the trolls had done their damage – but a hazy truth on the books and from travelers who permeated their eyes laid to the forest said that the forest wasn't always been like it appears. The forest was once habitual and ordinary, easily mistaken for other woods… until some time when it suddenly thrived further and trees that are formerly on the present boundaries have decayed away, eaten by ants and termites, or surrendered themselves to the earth. The word-of-mouth narration of this forest can persist day after day, year after year, up until the point where nobody would give a deuce – unless someone eventually did venture deep and out to tell the tale, if only… if only…

6

"Heave now, heave!" cried one of the adults in their camp as they raise the large tent – Both generations agreed on a name for each camp. The children's camp gets its name easily: The Sparrows, while the adults got into some small discussion before they agreed on: The Dunnocks, a type of bird that keeps getting confused with sparrows – either they're just being smart or sought to throw the first jeer. The Dunnocks found a mother there that does thread paintings as hobby and just surely, Johanna whose a graphic designer, thus they are tasked to design and embroider a picture of a dunnock bird onto their plain canary flag – they finished it beautifully in under two hours.

On the other side, the renowned trio with their group ran into minor trouble piercing the peg onto the ground, it is less lenient than their previous camping trip, you hammer one down, a slab of rock awaits below laughing at you, and there's only so much they could move the pegs around, though it's much more preferable than another Vittra encounter. Still, they'll have to match the power of a jackhammer just to reach the point the pegs stay still, that strain gratefully did not stall further when Erik came in with a small surprise – a sledgehammer.

He struck down each of the pegs with a single robust blow. He was accurate, regard him as a bricklayer, a mason, a laborer; that eye incident had killed whatever malign inside of him, it was too easy it's hard to believe he was this much different than the man he was, maybe he had less seen himself in a mirror lately and every once in a while, he'll pick a smaller one.

The tides of change come in many ways and means, they can be as indifferent as you want them to be, and you leave behind something in those tides to drift away no matter how strong you held onto them, but it does determine if it yields your world anything or deprives it out of reach.

I am a potter and I shape this hunk of clay in flow with my wit, I dry it well to conserve my given figment, I paint it to surge my heart. I then iterate this process time after time until it touches the edges of the shelf who filled have stored my knowledge and reminiscences feared too much to lose, then the next thing tomorrow was one of those pots fallen down to break into a thousand pieces, yet I don't remember what it garnered from me and why I kept it for so long.

7

The day goes well – like clockwork. Once in forever when that blue-haired girl is in any proximity, things happen as true as the paper. Nothing new, no revelations. Some could stop scratching their hands every few minutes waiting for something to happen as much as a dried leaf fluttering and ballet on the air, throwing their focus like a comet going around the sun.

As for her other family members, the deerfox stayed with Johanna, there isn't exactly an animal shelter in Trolberg that could attend to such rare animal, save any familiarities, she won't take that chance, but the deerfox has proven its worth among people. It stayed out of ways, problems, and turned out to be a great moral companion for the Dunnocks, the Raven Leader had no choice but to allow the uncommon animal to come with them. And the elf? Oh yes, he did come along, suffice it to say that he's going places around the communal, keeping his voice quiet else someone's going to jump-conclusion for spirit in a half second.

Orienteering and expanded camping skills are the main assignments for the day. The groves nearby the camp provided wonderful conditions for orienteering. Maps provided for the Dunnocks are more poorly drawn than the Sparrows with more tasks yet Dunnocks still managed to catch up on their own progress, this is when Johanna recalled her expertise as a former member, a spearhead as they may call it. The Sparrows and the Dunnocks are divided into two sections in the groves with distance plenty to ensure they don't run into each other.

After the hours have passed, the Sparrows have successfully cleared all markings, navigated the map control points, and items just short of the Dunnocks… who got back far more exhausted than anticipated, they didn't even have enough verve to cheer. Too bad they can't bring solar refrigerators for much-desired cold drinks.

Though Dunnocks gained their lead on the camping skills, a member brought a little something that happened to be very handy, a survival book written by a wanderer under a shady pen name. They cross-sectioned the guides of the book with the Sparrow Scouts manual; atypical knots, got creative with their tents, and ways to be resourceful and make them look more like home in the wilderness. Twig even got his own roof he shared with Alfur.

Dry leaves, sticks, and dry wood. Bonfire, it's one element that powers life out in the wilderness, countless ways to achieve but the list was shredded down to the simplest artistry of ancient hands. Creating this two-edged element was art by itself, the heat flows enough and you'll do anything to rise it up to create a maw that could eat half the things anyone can think of but can't live without it. The scouts are to create this art by nothingness than the hand, the Raven Leader makes her voice tall and challenges anyone to step forward who will create the fire that the night would cherish.

For a minute no one raised their hand, the Raven Leader then said that a night will not be spent until the fire is created, she declared it like reading a desperation-indicted ultimatum. All members of the Dunnocks lowered their courage cards, they must've done this before, they want to experience the joy of witnessing their children's knowledge, waiting for a hand to snap the air, just one hand.

"I'll do it." And of course, the voice was taken fervently. Hilda rose among the brown bunch, every eye is drawn to her.

"Very well, we still need one more to assist."

"Ah, then I'll pick –"

"Not this time Hilda." The Raven Leader stopped her words with a gesture, "We're all in this together and I rather not give you the latitude of choice only because you stood."

Her words clamped Hilda's mouth shut, then with a small smirk, she sought her friends and beckoned. Frida who felt she owed Hilda that much was about to raise her hand until a voice beat her to it.

"Me!" Now the eyes drawn to it. The scout stood up and makes himself known.

"Very well, Willy." Said the Raven Leader. Apparently, the clumsy kid had surely grown some courage. "Approach the sticks and do the work, I'll be here if you've any problems." They both slithered their way through the bunch and walked toward the sticks

"What do you know about making fires?" Hilda asked the offbeat member of the scouts.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Willy replied. At that point, she's too afraid to ask.

When they were around the stick and dry wood that looked strangely perplexing as if the entire world behind them just vapourised away, Hilda looked up to see Willy looking like an effigy for a second before a move shoots it back to life.

"Hold the wood and be ready to place the tinder, I'll handle the stick." She promptly did so, though her movements still suggest uncertainty. She kneeled down and held one end of the dry wood still with both hands, the tinder of dry leaves and some plant fibers next to her. Willy then grinded the groove of the dry wood with the sharp end of the stick. Up, down, up down, up, down, faster, faster. That sharp stick looked menacing every time it moved toward her as if she believed the offbeat member had another thing in mind.

The wood gets warmer, the heat rises, as the groove develops something of ash, then smoke started to disperse from it. The two bunch of scouts murmured in fascination.

"Smoke!" uttered Hilda before she lets go one hand to take the tinder.

"Not yet." Willy stopped her motion, she then returned the position of her hand. Up, down, up down, now Willy's hand's a piston at full throttle, the smoke increases and made her cough. "Alright, put down the tinder on the smoke." She followed the command, the dry leaves and fibers resting on the smoke, entrapping it. "Allow me." Willy took the dry wood and held the tinder, then flipped it so that the ashes fall onto it, he then gently shake the tinder so that the air flows it better at feeding it, then finally, the art came alive. Everyone cheered and clapped.

"Great work you two, great work!" Hilda heard the Raven Leader well and painted a smile on her face but she wasted no time taking the kindling for the flame before it dies. She and Willy had just become a recipient of the Firem'n Chit badge.

Everyone sat around the large burning pointed hat of logs brimmed with stones. See the art now, they dance in ways you don't predict as all movements differ. See the art now, it releases the amber into the sky, giving them something back from the snow and rain they've poured. See the art now, how the light shuns all the faces drawn, merging all their vogue into one undistinguishable visage.

But surely there's as much the fire can offer as the night stars. Like cities of the sky, it ensures the aspiration of solitude doesn't simply rout. Dots said in children's books, some flickering as if something up there is trying to say hi, sort of like relatives on all beings they could see down and being born again out of it.

Hilda set herself close to her mother and pet. She looked at the bonfire, then the dimness of the sky with stars scattered like a plate of crystals, seeds that grow to form constellations, their roots are to be discovered. It's all well, the confines of prevalent life have their own beauty, free of strings to pull them into ventures too many for a single lifetime.

Silence of night itself lies triumphant. The Raven Leader finished her talk to conclude the day and send everyone to their respective tents, tomorrow's going to be pretty active with hopes of good health. She said goodnight to her mother and her deerfox, and Alfur is probably somewhere finishing his report and bookmarking the page.

Though she decided to watch the bonfire a little longer, watch it dance and follow the wind as it slowly eats the kindling to white and perish silently.

The forest afar still stood as if it derides the world around it. It bears no title should dark forests be as there was nothing mortal about it other than the mystery of the trolls. Hilda watched the fire gently, when nearly the last of the scouts retreated back to their camps and the talks dimmed like the fire itself, she got up and made her way to her tent – that's when a voice wriggled into her ear, something the remnants inside her still spry, the voice of a troll.

It was far but it was calling, calling for something, something it held dear. The stretch of the winds meddles the voice despite the still night. Then the voice stopped, no one else heard it, and if they did they must've considered it as another song of the wilderness. She raised an eyebrow and unawarely started to walk towards the source of the voice…. The forest. She's definite that is the voice of a troll.

"Hilda, are you coming? I'm sure you don't want the Raven Leader catching you out soon." Shouted Frida poking her head out.

She turned her head. "I'm coming." Then she snapped her gaze back towards the forest, there was a troll somewhere there, frantic… after some seconds that felt around the clock, she disdained it just enough like checkers to motion her legs to walk into the tent.

8

A dreamless night, almost habitual even after the voice of that troll, her mind did not play around in a jumble aiming to construct the reason of that voice, even disdaining rationality. The Raven Leader broke her and everyone else out of that self-dungeon when she walked on the Sparrows camp and fanfares her brass cavalry horn to sound the reveille.

"Wake up, spread your wings, bungle and don't stow!" She said every finished tune.

The Sparrows woke up and were greeted with the cold morning and assorted smell residuum of burnt wood – what is the time? Better search the sky now, will it be blue? – Almost, the stars are still sinking into the mantle, most have left but some had to assure they watched the episode of Life Forms TV till the last second.

"What's first on the schedule?" Hilda asked her tent after scrubbing the corner of her eyes.

"Nature badge activity." Said David.

"What do we do?" Hilda asked again.

"It's like orienteering but we'll be studying the nature and environment I believe. Granted I think you would really come into great support." Said Frida with fervor in the back of her throat.

The members of the communal lined up for the trail showers, then breakfast of oatmeal and crackers with some warm tea to astute the aloof morning. For the time being, no contact with the Dunnocks, receive your food and head to areas in the camp that most gratify to keep the early atmosphere healthy – mostly the bonfire, the remaining night fires that have decimated small to a blowing leaf amongst the cinder of white ashes and ebony snow, imploring to be stomped.

The famed trio found a snug set of flat rocks overlooking the forest and made it their spot as much of an anteroom. Whoever was behind the galley, they've done their role well, but it appears that Hilda's hands keep restraining themselves from the fork, her eyes are firm on the forest.

"Got your adventurer hunch running again?" asked David a mouthful.

"What?" Hilda turned her eyes on him, splitting her focus like a bee sting.

"Oh don't act like we don't know something's up when you keep looking at that forest. Not with all the rumors surrounding it." Said Frida, she almost sounded bothered.

"Am I really that conspicuous?" Hilda turned her head sideways, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, we just learn, you weren't so fixed on that forest until this morning, so what about the forest that's holding you back from your breakfast?" David went on.

Hilda gazed back toward the forest, she felt it simpering at her. "I'm… not quite sure."

"Well now I'm sure that there is something about you and that forest." Said David.

"And you two are afraid that I'm going to drag you with me again?"

David and Frida looked at each other, "Would you now?" asked David. Hilda exhales gravely, save the forest, she's not even sure what to say.

"Listen Hilda," Frida sets aside her plate. "don't take this the wrong way but… we and the entirety of Trolberg have been through enough lately and we're still recovering, even though it's for the better. I think we deserve for once to enjoy occasions like this without troubles, so whatever you had in mind that would swerve it to us and drag us down much less everyone else here – don't. Take it us as friends asking for a favor, would you?"

Hilda paints a tender smile. "Of course," she said serenely and finally broke her hand free from the repress and ate her breakfast that had gone slightly cold.

"For once I agree with them." A merry voice, Hilda almost dropped the plate when Alfur whispered in her ears.

9

The day was not arid, the trees are doused with dew, still as a cat but rains on the slightest touch. Twig was enjoying himself too much on the fallen leaf piles akin to a ball pit as Johanna muses around the groves. Unsure what to write even after the briefing, the Dunnocks called for any members who have an experience with nature, and sure enough, a horticulturist raised a hand; not a botanist but that'll have to do.

Insects, ants, anything that dwells inside the trees. Both troops are tasked with identifying types of animals and plants, descriptions, possible food chains, while the Dunnocks requiring to be more scientific like distinguishing an arthropod, a mollusca, or an amphibian. Presuming on forming some mutual coupling with nature, this merit badge isn't going to be very supportive but at least they endorsed the communal with open hands.

Except for the idea about the hound coming back into existence even for a dulcet greeting, the day might just perforate everyone from the initial euphoria sooner, so most would be thankful for small favors to come into aid, like a little singing and some banter would serve nicely, but the recent counts of it all just doesn't fit in everyone's cup of tea.

As for Hilda, it has been some time since a new entry got in her sketchbook as she walks among the wilderness, perhaps she has seen everything she needs to know. However, her mind attitude diverges from her mother's who found the ambiance to strengthen her creative mind – a walk in the park is great, but right now it's much more assorted and she better keep her eyes and mind open.

But despite Hilda's attempts, the voice of that troll fails to steam out of her head. It hinges on her head firmer than a tide mice, ignoring it makes her feel like she's putting herself or whatever it is in the menaces of a footnote – like a faint transmission of a distress call and she's obliged to respond or it builds some guilty conscience that gets worse over time.

She hadn't any doubt of it, that voice would sound again when the skyline blows dreary. Least she's also not trying to lie to herself, she wanted to enjoy the camp just as much as the sparrows do, but the oath never exactly drew a margin on the line 'To be a friend to all people, animals, and spirits.' So it's left to one's conscience and good sense on how far they should take it.

Then the struggle inside her mind was whipped out stronger than a hypnic jerk. The voice, the voice! It calls for again, closer now, her assurance of the voice is finally nailed out of doubts. It's a troll alright but no one in the scouts other than her heard it, still faint but it's clear to discern that it calls for name; all trolls have a name, this troll is calling for one, and it held the name dear.

"What's the matter, Hilda?" asked Frida when she noticed Hilda looking as if her brain circuits broke down.

"I…" better make an excuse fast, and it better be good! "my ears just started ringing all of a sudden, no biggie." She then tittered. A ringing ear? Is that the best you came out with?!

"Oh, sudden tinnitus, I can recount what you went through, happens to me a few times." David almost sounded as if he was proud of it, but it saved Hilda from uncertainties.

"Yes." She scrubbed her ear with her pinky finger as if to increase the credibility of the moment.

The activity would go on until early afternoon, a lot of time is left at hand. Hilda tried to isolate the sounds around her so she could hear that troll again, she barely feels like walking at all. Now the troll sang again, she felt a shroud force shakes her like a tuning fork, she can't help it, she hates it. I've got to get there!

But she waited until about an hour passed during the activity when she pushed the words out of her mouth.

"You'd think it's better that we split up?" That came out more mellow than she thought.

"What?" said Frida, looking back.

"You know, we'd cover more grounds that way." Now she's starting to feel divulged from her two friends, she didn't like that either. It had to sound her earnest, for some hard questions are going to come. She looked at her paper, the pencil hanging between two fingers. "We've only got four insects, two of them disappeared before we even got a closer look, for all we know the others could have ten by now. I believe we would proceed better singly."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I'll be fine." Her voice sounded spoiled. David was about to utter a word when he saw a bug on his shoulder just on the very corner on how much his head and eyes can turn, it looks beautifully coated in yellow veneer and he was trying his best for a good look.

"No, it's not that, the first time you participate in orienteering you got lost, yesterday was only better; now that I think of it, I'm surprised you always find your way home."

"Well that should prove something about me doesn't it?"

"In a way I suppose, but…"

"Frida, are you worried about me or something I'm about to do?" Frida falls silent, it's something between the two but her heart is loose enough to defect her wording it out.

"I'm telling you, I'll be fine and stay out of trouble." She quickly thinks of a compromise. "I'll meet you back in two hours, how does that sound?"

She considers it along a breeze. "Well, I guess there's only so many you can do in two hours, sure. But I'll rather stay with David for a little longer."

"Alright! I'll see you both soon." Just as Hilda was about to step out, Frida calls her again.

"Have you got your compass?" Of course, the most basic tool for navigation.

"Ehrm, of course!" Hilda sneered and checks her bag, searching for the steel compass. "Oh…" Her eyes flicked back and forth, It wasn't there, she must've forgotten to put it inside after tinkering with it before sleep.

Without a breath, Frida walks towards her, "Here, take mine for the time being. If you keep this on, one day you won't even realize if you lost a leg." She was being serious but couldn't hold the urge to smile.

A sudden rustling sound behind them; "IT'S IN MY EAR!" Screamed David.

10

Evidently, Hilda wasn't being very sincere on her side of the bargain. She heads in the direction of the voice and didn't take long for her to remind that she's walking toward the Forest of Hamel and the boundaries of the thick grove gave some illusion of a trouble-no-trouble barrier. Each step she took, she hoped the voice would sound again, if it was as desperate as she think it was, it mustn't stop.

And what's to add to the burden? She's now thinking that she got two friends other than her mother to worry about, but then she thought that was putting it mildly, she's in a scout camp for goodness sake! And should the faint voice of a troll be worth that much? One self said to her that her world keeps on throwing pies of redundant responsibilities at her, while her other self tells that she brought this on herself as if she was the one to walk on the stage of shame.

To! It's the voice, it's calling a name… Toto!

"Toto?" Hilda whispered to herself. "Alfur did you hear that?" But he wasn't behind her ear, fortunately. She forgot to include Alfur in her little endeavor, elves live their life with facts as tenure, she didn't really think if they're capable of lying... or if they're even legally allowed to do so, most likely not. It's good news nonetheless, she does not wish to have Alfur around for the moment.

Toto!

There it is again, the voice is clear now, she put on her big eyes and made herself sentry, looking for the source – a seemingly large hunk of rocks, some moss has grown on top of it, it bulges on from the land almost like a blunt nail. Now the voice is apparent.

Toto!

Or perhaps Hilda did take some morsel from her words, she encountered a few new-to-eye plants and bugs that would look nice on books, wrote down descriptions as much as she can fathom, and picks a sample to present for later. Now the voice is lucid.

Toto!

She looks at the compass, northeast. The rocks are on the northeast, she looked at the sky and in her head, the sky said to her: why are you looking at me for? Now voice is precedence. It's just out from the groves, or maybe that's what it appears to be. Definitely the name of some troll, what sound did the wilderness have created in their time to curtain the voice of that troll as theirs?

She looked around her, behind the trees, through the bushes, and over the blades of grass. She adjusted the focus point of her eyes to see the far Tyndalls of light in the volume of air, then close to see dust dancing in front of her, then the compass again to assure herself once more. Yes now, she's very much unattended, and she liked this feeling.

The voice continued, it's crying for it. She walked towards the rocks and perambulated the crying rock slowly, dragging the palm of her hand on it as she was trying to determine if it was alive or not. Then she found a large opening, the rock was hollow, and inside she found a grey cone-shaped troll hiding from the sunlight.

"Hello." She said.

"Who is that?" Said the troll alarmingly who was facing the other way. She turned around and found a human in brown overall and red cloth around the neck before her, and so her eyes widened but her speech was clogged.

"What's the matter?" Hilda walked closer, letting go of her hand from the large rock.

The troll was startled when she heard the human as if it got struck by a jolt of some kind, "I can understand you." Said the troll.

"It's a long story."

"Wait, you must be Hilda."

"You know my name?"

"Your name echoes through our kind. Could you come inside? The light hurts."

"Do you promise not to eat me?" The troll's face is sullen, "I'm sorry." Hilda raised both her hands, "old habits die hard." Naturally.

"It's alright. My name is Treyma." Said the troll as it moved away to give her more of the already big space for her size.

The cavity felt as if it had its own atmosphere, the heat drops like water and the air smells rock flour. For a split second, she felt as if she was back in the Stone Forest.

"You were calling for somebody?" Hilda sat down relaxed with both her legs half-bent, she could almost tell how long the troll had stayed inside the large hollow rock by the ground's smooth surface.

"Not somebody, my child."

"Your child's name is Toto?"

"Yes, I loved his voice."

"Where would he be?"

"He disappeared into the forest there." The cheerless troll pointed at the Hamel Forest, "I would've searched for him, but I cannot go there."

"Why not?"

"Because no trolls have ever come back once they enter that forest. It's the Forest of No Return for us." Suppose Hilda just had another entry for the '… of no return.'

"Then what about your child?"

"He's only small, smaller than you even – but I heard his voice from the forest, he sounded happy but he won't hear my voice, he always comes when I call for him. I don't understand and I'm threaded out for him!" Treyma's voice pitched and she twisted on herself.

Hilda stood up and took a few steps towards the troll. "Maybe I can help find him, you said you can still hear his voice, so he must still be in there."

The troll lays hushed for a short moment. "You'd do that, how?"

"I'm a Sparrow Scout, and our oath is to be helpful to everyone, I believe trolls aren't out of my book, and we always find a way," Hilda spoke proudly while standing high with both her hands placed on her waist.

Treyma didn't really comprehend the first half of what Hilda just said, but the troll knows she meant good. "When you do search for him, you must have this." The troll reached back and gave her something she never would've expected from a troll… a one-octave wooden xylophone, the steel is rusty and the woods have gone soft in some places, but the sound is just as novel.

"I didn't know trolls have some musical taste." She held it between her hands, it is surprisingly lighter than it looks, must've felt like a grain of sand for Treyma.

"Maybe, some of us do, have you happen to know what this thing is called?"

"Oh, we call it a xylophone."

"What a nice name, just as beautiful as the sound – It's nothing like bells, the sound allays our ears… my Toto loved to play with it, especially this one." Treyma took the small mallet with two fingers and struck the G key gently. The sound is innocuous, resonating on the rock walls.

"It is beautiful."

"I'm glad we have something in common." Said the troll. Hilda had never touched a xylophone before, and the last time she heard a xylophone was in class when Ms. Hallgrim used it to accompany a recorder lesson.

But then Hilda's eyes fell on her discount watch from the store where her mother formerly worked at, about an hour had passed. She then looked at the shadow of the hollow rock – the troll had been smart, the rock's opening is facing north hence the sunlight won't swell inside and petrify the troll.

"I'm going to help you find your child, but I'd have to do it in the night."

"You are very kind, but wouldn't it be better when the sun is up?" Treyma tried to not sound demanding, even with her expression. A once-troll human, and Treyma's anxious enough about how the human can face-read a troll. "You humans eulogize that stretch of days. Besides, the forest is most dangerous at night."

"Is that superstition coming from you or humans like me?" inquired Hilda.

"I'd say places that possess vast stories which could be fathomed by any beings capable of reasoning don't call for definite superstition." Treyma looked at the forest again with some myopic eyes.

Hilda judged the troll's words with a nod. "Whatever it is, I'm not going to give it up. I'll try my best at finding your son." Hilda asserts her intent with a stiff voice.

Treyma was touched. "You must use the …" She looked at the instrument, stammering the name.

"Xylophone." Said Hilda.

"I'm sorry, it's a beautiful name but I would be lying if I told you it wasn't a very complex name too."

Hilda remained with the troll for a short more moment. She's radiant enough with herself, thinking if there are any good deeds with the trolls – at least for a start, she's apt to them, enjoying the cause of her questioning objectivity for it. But she won't fresco that sort of pride to herself either.

She would come back in the midst of night, have the troll take the malaise of not doing anything in the long meantime, it's a big favor and she's unsure if there's anything in her collection to gratify any material wishes of the human – else would have looked like some bargain after some decently bad deeds. Very complex creatures indeed, Treyma thought.

What Treyma gave to Hilda to make up for her little time after she explained what she was doing before was a beetle with a green-red polka dot pattern, Treyma had been watching it and described how it dawdles around her like a bat flying without ultrasound, almost flipping on a stone, embodiment of her feelings, in a word: erratic.

11