They sat and faced each other in silence. It was a two days’ carriage ride to where the Niven had been wiped out, and they had gone through the first day without a single word uttered. Not even a yawn or a sigh. The only sound was the steady clomp of hooves through the dirt. A cool country breeze kept the carriage horses happy. Inside the carriage, the air was suffocating; it simmered with hate and seemed ready to combust at any moment. All it needed was a spark. 

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I gained my abilities, Petalman?”

The orange petal creature did not respond. 

Moments of familiar silence passed and Halding continued. “No, I thought not. I’d estimate everyone in Solun knows but you. Maybe you’ve heard the rumor though, have you, Petalman?”

This time he did not give the creature a chance to respond. “Let me illuminate this mystery for you. It will help the time go by faster.” Halding’s mouth curved into a sickly smile hated throughout all of Solun. Accept, perhaps, by barkeeps. 

“I grew up on a farm a few days' ride west of Solun. My father was uninterested in the abilities of other creatures. He kept his eyes on the plow and his feet in the fields. I never loved the man, but I respected his choice. He knew his place, and that is a very valuable thing. I, however, knew I was meant to be the man I am today.

Our farm was as close as the Niven would let humans be to their Black Forest. If I left at sun down, I could be there and back before my father got up to start the fields. The Black Forest is not a place for children, but I felt the power there, and I desired it more than anything.

When you enter the forest, the trees shift and contort, until you are face to face with five of the Simey. This is all a Niven defense, to keep anyone but themselves from accessing the forest’s resources. The Simey are meant to terrify you. Most people leave the Black Forest just as soon as they enter, with soiled undergarments as proof of their brief adventure. I was not terrified by these creatures but intrigued. 

They are huge and hairy, with bodies like us, only much bigger and stronger, using both their hands and feet to walk. What naturally catches the eye, is the strange coiled pattern on their skin. When you first enter the forest, and they roar their blood curdling screams at you, the pattern glows orange. As I said, most see this and run away; the forest provides a path back for them until they arrive where they first entered.

I must admit, I did so the first time I went, too. But when I came again, I waited. I listened to their fearsome screams and remained still. They are dumb beasts but it seems they eventually realized I would not leave, so they walked a few steps away and watched me. Soon enough, they grew tired of this, and focused no longer on me but on nipping at the bugs on each other’s backs. The coiling pattern on their bodies changed, from the orange of your petals to the blue of the sky.

 I had no more time to observe them, but I returned the next day and saw something truly spectacular. Once again they roared for a period and when they realized I would not leave, they returned to cleaning themselves. After what seemed an eternity, they stopped cleaning themselves and…began to play. They created balls of fire and ice in their hands and threw them at each other or juggled them high above their heads. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen! As I observed them, I began to formulate my plan.

I returned the next day, this time with a piece of meat from my father’s most recent slaughter. I sensed that I still could not approach them safely, so I threw the meat to the smallest of the Simey. The beast sniffed apprehensively, for the shortest of moments, and then gorged on it until nothing remained. I did this day after day, until the beast became more and more familiar with me. Soon enough, it would come to me and eat the meat out of my hand. Eventually it would let me scratch the bugs off its disgusting body. The other Simeys paid no attention to this, absorbed in their usual fair of cleaning and playing. 

After a whole harvest season of this, I decided I had waited long enough. The next time I came to the Black Forest, my Simey approached me, and nudged my leg, waiting for me to give it that day’s meat. This was our usual negotiation. Instead, I walked away, and flaunted the piece of meat, gesturing for the beast to follow. And, it did. I continued to walk back through the path the trees created for me and the Simey followed. Not once did the dumb brute look back at the family it left behind. We reached the end of the Black Forest and I led it to a small hill just below. There, I uncovered a whole bag of raw meat, and let the Simey feast on it all. As it ate peacefully, oblivious to anything but its meal, I brought my father's pitchfork right above its head, and stabbed it down with as much force as I could muster. The beast jerked upward and swatted my body away with the force of multiple men. That was all it had left though. After a few more howls it fell silent, and collapsed, surrounded by meat and its thick oozing blood. My chest felt like it had caved in, but I crawled over to my bag that held my father’s butcher knife and chopped off a part of its arm. I must say, the meat was quite good after I cooked it. Though I felt a great deal of pain, I fell asleep on that hill satisfied with a full stomach.” 

The general lips twisted into his wicked smile. “So, what do you think of my story, Petalman?”

The petals on what would be the petal creature's face buzzed and it spoke with the severity of a mountain cutting wind. “The Oracle of Draka visited the Count recently to tell his fortune. We were present at this meeting and the Oracle told us our fortune too. Are you curious what it told us, General Halding?”

The General was in fact curious. He had never heard of a Petalman consulting with the Oracle. 

“You still have not answered my question, but yes, do tell. I predict a lifetime of leaching off the Count’s benevolence.” 

“It told us that very, very soon, we will kill a man. He will lie dead on the grass and flowers will sprout from his eyes and his mouth. A true ‘Petalman’. Would you not agree?” 

The general did not breathe. For once, he chose his words carefully, with the same precision he employed when hunting beasts with the Count. 

“The Oracle has his own motivations. The future is not his domain to control, as much as he would like to think so. But I am sure you already know all of this.”

The carriage stopped. “We have arrived, General. You were right. Stories do make the time go by faster.”

The Petal creature stepped out of the cabin, and the General could have sworn he saw its petals form a smile as it did.