Gift Literature by AutumnAntler
The sun fell across the old branches of the apple trees. Their gnarled fingers held heavy red fruit, perfectly ripe for the picking. A light breeze shifted the long branches, offering a few overripe apples a chance to free themselves from the whorled bark. The days grew short, as winter approached on cold, frosty wings. The grasses had started to curl and brown and they crunched as boots passed over them. Already, the tavern was starting to fill with people. The grass-covered building sat squat against some of the towering trees, shaded by their grand fingers that spread across the skies. A thin wisp of smoke danced from the chimney, like a dancing gypsy. They couldn't see him, hiding in the orchard. He moved silently, despite the excitement running through his body. It was like being shocked by a bolt of lightning, which Sail himself never had been, but he had watched one of the other trees in the orchard once go up into a blaze. The Man and The Woman had to put it out with buckets of water, and the smell of the singe stayed for a whole season. The esk scurried along the tall branches of the great trees, moving in such a way that it didn't disturb a single fruit. An onlooker would assume a gentle breeze had touched the branch like a lover, or a bird had swiftly fluttered away. The remaining light from the day was sliding back from the world, like a reclusive snake. The great red apples seemed ablaze as the dying light touched them gingerly. Sail hopped to another branch, gripping the bark tightly. He perked his head up, the smell of cloves and mulled cider filling his nose.
How funny, The little spirit thought, fixing his autumn-like eyes upon the grassy tavern. Through the foggy windows, he could barely see the tables and chairs yet he knew they had started to become full. The esk waited for a few moments, before he scurried forward, the limb of the tree bending lightly from his light weight. An apple tumbled from the branch, a soft -twhump- heard as it connected with the grassy turf below. Sail watched it fall, before a delightful expression filled the soft brown eyes. The esk suddenly gave another harsh thump of his body, shaking the tree's branch violently. Several apples came way, tumbling to the earth. He watched them roll away, before a loud noise could be heard from the tavern.
“I swear it!” Came a voice, bursting from the silent hollow. The little ears twitched absently. The esk jumped from the branch and among the fallen apples. He stood on his hind legs, listening to the voices inside.
“Gah, Cal, yer such a liar.” Another voice added in. Now, Sail was beyond curious, and he hurried to the greasy, smoke-stained window.
They can't see me... He said to himself and hopped onto one of the barrels outside, listening in on the patrons inside.
“You're not from around here, bud, you can't tell me they are a legend if you ain't from these parts.” The man dubbed Cal said over his rim of fine apple beer. The bartender, a old jolly man, watched the two patrons in faint interest. He worked at one of his dirty glasses with a clean rag, something Sail swore he did in his sleep as well.
“Aye, it's true, Baur.” The tavern's owner said, smiling through a sun-worn face and a thick, bushy beard. “These orchards have themselves a guardian.” The owner said, a twinkle in his eyes. In his youth, it was guaranteed that he was a handsome man, and the thought struck Cal why he hadn't a wife or children.
“Bah! Kid's tales, lemme tell ya!” Baur said, heatedly, over his ale. He pointed a fat finger at Cal. “Ain't no such thing as ghosts, or spirits, or esks!” The man said, his eyes set on the two men. Sail peered through the smoky glass, studying the three of them. From the sounds inside, he had sworn there had been more people. The little hands moved against the glass pressing the digits to the warm pane. The tavern's keeper only smiled, one that was hidden in the great peppered beard, and kept his hands busy on the ale glass.
“I'd just say don't get lost in the orchard, mister.” The keeper said, smiling at his hands. Baur made a noise of disgust and finished his drink.
“Ain't no stinkin' spirit that's gonna capture me.” Baur said, glaring under a bushy brow. “When people don't understand sumthin' they just make up stories. People die, animals die, none of this hogwash of being transformed.” Baur said, and slammed his empty glass on the bar's sleek wooden top. The owner flashed his eyes to the man before him, before he took the glass and went ti fill it from a tap. The only sound that filled the tavern now, was the crackle of a great flame and the hiss of foamy ale straight from the tap. Sail cocked his head, before he shifted his body against his sitting area. He clapped his digits happily against the wood and sod, before he peered against the smoky glass again. His soft white muzzle pressed against it, and he debated if he had a tongue, he would lick it. The paws moved up once more tapping on the glass. He realized, suddenly, he could see his reflection in the dark glass. The people inside didn't hear a single tap against the glass, and remained talking heatedly about common mythos in the area. The little digits moved up to touch the soft brown cinnamon sticks that sprouted from his fox-like head. A small sprig of an apple tree grew from his soft brownish red shoulders. In a childish manner, he clapped his paws together and hopped down from the barrel. A sudden wave of wassail came with him, a lush brown wave filled with cloves, oranges, apples and cinnamon. It floated around him, like an absent, weightless cloud. It moved around, sloshing back and forth. A warm, toasted aroma of cider filled the air as the esk loped through the brown grass. He scuttled towards the tavern door, which was slightly ajar as usual when it was open. That was, until the winter monster. Crisp leaves crunched under his multiple paws as he hurried. Leaves kicked up as he ran, spiraling in a lazy wind behind him. His great tail brushed against the ground as Sail slowed himself. The esk stood at the open door, feeling the heat from the great fire bury into his thick fur. He waited for a moment, pressing a single digit into the tavern, before he decided against it, and slowly back into the cold autumn evening. The tavern's owner glanced up at the ajar door for a moment, as if hearing a voice at it's entrance, before he glanced back at the two men seated at his great wooden bar.
“I'd just be careful out there late in the night, lads. The old boy is friendly, I promise, just don't speak ill of him.” The twinkle in the tavern owner's eyes remained, dancing like the flame in the great pit. Cal could tell the man was joking, but Baur on the other hand, his head swimming from the ale, felt some sort of pressing matter. He waved his hand in a flash, scoffing at the tavern's owner, but looked glumly down in his ale. He swore he could smell cloves, smell the sweet bubbling perfume of his grandmother's cider, as if someone was making a batch in the tavern. As quickly as the smell had filled the great, wooden construct, it dissipated. Baur glanced to the ajar door himself, swearing he saw a pair of glowing autumn eyes. When he blinked, the eyes had disappeared into the dying light of the outdoors.
“Ya hungry, bud?” Cal asked the other man, who could only wolfishly nod. Sail hurried away from the tavern, returning to the great grassy knoll he knew as his home. His roots had dug deep into the earth here, his branches had held the sky up and the sun had warmed his long limbs. As he neared the tippy top of his ancient home, he could feel some sleepiness fill him. The hill, warmed from the brief sun, soaked into his paws. His tail brought a few leaves with him, stuck into his soft fur. The grass swallowed him, pulling him into a dense blanket. The esk simply shuddered, laying among the dying grasses.
This is home.
By the time the moon had opened across the sky, the land was asleep. Everything that but spirits and the sleepless seemed to be awake. Even so, a slender doe stepped through the brushwork. Her fur was pale, as pale as milk, and a pair of pink eyes stared desperately ahead. She, like many other deer, gorged themselves on the falling apples in the orchard. It was easy pickings this time of year, and it was something Sail tried to desperately do. He tried to feed the hungry, as much as possible. This included the deer that wandered through the apples. If he saw any of them, he'd violently shake branches to make the fruit bearing trees drop their delicious apples. Sometimes this backfired and he would peg a deer with one, but most of the time, he had figured out some stylish ways to feed the wildlife. This doe was alone, and she slowly moved through the orchard. Sail was happily watching her from atop one of the trees, his digits flexing anxiously.
"Hello! You're very beautiful!” He said to her. The deer raised her slender neck, her velvety ears twitching to find the noise. Sail just watched, his tail wavering thanks to a gentle breeze. “There are apples here!” He said, cheerfully, bouncing on one of the limbs. A few apples fell away, landing with soft thumps. The doe moved nervously, and for a moment Sail was certain she would flee. Instead, she slowly moved towards the bundle of apples, her ears switching back and forth to search for any oncoming danger. Sail remained in his branch, a giddy expression on the esk's face. The soft ears perked forward in delight, watching the albino doe eat eagerly. A loud boom was heard in the orchard, as the tavern door was shot open and smashed violently against the outside wall. The doe, never one for danger, quickly bolted back into the dark forest, away from esk's prying eyes and the moon's gentle touch.
“Bye Baur!” A few voices chimed out as the large blundering man waved languidly, and stumbled down the worn path. He surely had a long way to go, and thinking on it, he should have taken Cal's offer to ride with him back to his house, but the company in the tavern held him as tightly as prison, and he remained. Now, with darkness settled across the land, Baur realized this place surely could be haunted by spirits. Moonlight fell in long waves, like the hair of a woman, and it painted the world in long, sinister shadows. Baur squinted up at the bright moon, casting it a sour expression, before he lumbered towards the direction of his house. Of course, a man with too many ales inside him might easily get lost in a forest, and that's exactly what Baur did. He stumbled absently through the forest, his feet breaking sticks and kicking up rocks and old rotten leaves. A cold had slipped into the air, and it was very obvious winter's fine kisses would place the world in an peaceful sleep. He, however, hated winter with a living passion. Farming in the winter was miserable, and being a shepherd was no easier. His flock of sheep would have to be coming down from the mountains soon, something he had been delaying for as long as he could. But then the lambing season would be upon them, and soon he'd have his fair share of ewes and lambs. Muttering to himself, he stumbled further into the woods, becoming more and more lost as he went. By the time that the moon had started to fall from it's peak, Baur was fully aware he was lost.
“Well, for the love of Pete...” He said, standing in the middle of a great forest. The trees had entertained their limbs above him, and the moonlight barely fell through into the forest floor below. Dead leaves had gathered all the way to his knees, and he turned circles trying to figure out his direction. The smell of mulled cider filled his nose, and he was certain his stomach was about to empty the fine slab of mutton he had consumed and the several pints of fine apple ale. An audible groan fell from his lips, as a great gurgle left his stomach. The ale was not satisfied with the amount of trudging through leaves, and he was worried he was going to lose his dinner. Between the arches of great elms, Sail stood there. The moonlight fell across his autumn fur, the apple and orange sprigs seeming to grow under the moon's loving kisses. Baur turned, squinting around. He stopped dead in his tracks as a creature stood there. The creature was as large as a bear, he realized, but longer. The head alone was as large as his torso, and a great pair of brown horns rose from a soft orange-brown fur. The white tipped muzzle was pointed at the man, and the gentle eyes appeared playful and curious at the two-legger. The creature's tail was longer than the body, and in some shock, Baur was alarmed to see this creature had multiple limbs. Sail cocked his head, clapping his hands together in delight at the man before him. The word 'Lost' appeared in Baur's head, as if someone plucked it from the air and presented it to him. The creature, with what looked like great cinnamon sticks growing out of it's skull, cocked it's head.
Lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
The words rang in Baur's head like some church bell, clanging loudly.
Areyoulost-areyoulost-areyoulost-areyoulost???
Like some ancient Gregorian chant, the words boomed in his mind.
“Yes...” He said, feebly, through his drunken stupor. Sail clapped his hands again, delighted the human responded.
Followfollowfollowfollowfollow
Sail turned away from the man and slowly began to walk towards a direction. Baur watched it go, and when Sail realized he wasn't following him, he stopped. The esk stood on his hind legs, and clapped his paws together again. Once more, he chanted 'Follow' into the man's head. Baur, stubbornly, raised a leg and began to follow after the creature. Once Sail was satisfied the man was following, he began to move again. The leaves crunched under Baur's boots as he walked behind the esk. He still stared in disbelief.
No, I must be... I must be really drunk. This giant skunk-fox-thing is leading me through the woods...This must be some messed up dream or something... Baur concluded, but yet, he couldn't stop following the little creature. Sail occasionally would look over his shoulder to the man, making sure he was following. The look on bewilderment on Baur's face only made Sail more happy. He loved surprises! He loved surprising people! It was all part of the fun!
Areyouthirsty? Sail asked, those soft eyes gleaming even in the enveloping darkness. Baur only blinked a few times.
“Uh...” He began. In surprise, he saw a soft, almost velvety brown wave of what appeared to be water float around the esk. Bunches of cloves, cinnamon, apples, and slices of oranges floated around inside. Again, came that warm smell.
Tastytastytastytasty! Sail bound ahead several steps, the great tail sending leaves into the air. Baur watched him, his stomach lurching. Baur didn't even notice they had left the forest now, and instead, they stood on a great grassy knoll. Sail didn't step forward much more. Instead, he stood in the great shadows of the elms and pines. He moved his legs nervously, before he glanced to the man.
This is your home. Sail said, and Baur could see the happiness displayed in the creature's face. He glanced to the humble home sitting near a small pond. A light was left on, one by his wife, he figured. The good woman she was...
“Thank yo-” When Baur turned around, the mysterious creature had disappeared. The smell of wassail, however, remained in the air. Baur took a deep intake of the smell, bringing back to years of his youth. A smile fell on his face, the ale having all but worn out. “Thank you, little esk.” He said, to the trees and wind; to the smell of wassail.
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