The dream didn’t end, and when Geoffrey woke up again, he was lying on the straw bed, bundled up under the blanket of fur. The smell of medicinal herbs still assaulted his nose, and pain, albeit dulled, still irradiated throughout his body. But at least, he wasn’t sprawled on the pebbled shore of the riverside, left to rot under the blazing sun.  

“Awake?”

A nod, and Geoffrey forced himself to sit. The next second, a thin piece of bark was shoved to his mouth and pressed against his lips. Puzzled, he peered at the being kneeling beside him. His bright green eyes seemed to be silently asking what he was doing this early in the morning, trying to wriggle some tree bark into his mouth and whatnot. As far as he knew, he was human, not some sort of herbivore that grazed on stems and rhizomes.

“Chew on that.” The being tsked. “It helps with headaches and fevers.”

“Does it…?” Geoffrey scrunched his nose in disgust. Even if the bark had been washed, he wasn’t too keen on putting it into his mouth.   

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, no, I do!”

Quickly changing his tune, Geoffrey opened his mouth and chewed on the bark, lest he angered the being. Oh, it’s not that bad. It had an earthy taste and a little something he couldn’t quite describe. Not the best thing he had ever eaten, but certainly not the worst.

“Don’t swallow it and spit it out after about a minute.”

Again, Geoffrey nodded and started to count the seconds. Once time was up, he obediently spat out the bark into his hand. Staring at it, he had a moment of hesitation, not knowing what to do with it, until the being gestured for him to give him the dripping-wet-with-saliva bark.

“What are you waiting for? Hand it over already.”

Awkwardly, Geoffrey dropped the bark in the being’s hand and watched as he tossed it in a corner of the room, where branches and plants were piled up. He decided not to comment. It was the being’s room, not his.

“I know you’re tired, and everything is aching, but we’ll have to wipe your body clean, apply the balm and the herbs again before you go back to sleep. We’ll have to do it this evening too, for all that matters.”

“Oh, I see, alright—sorry, what?!”

A confused look appeared on Geoffrey’s face as his brain slowly processed the being’s words, sticking to the ‘we’ part. It took him a second to understand the implications, and embarrassment dyed his cheeks red. He had never been at ease with showing off his naked body to others, and Richardson had made it a duty to tease him about his girlish bashfulness whenever they bathed in the river near the fort. It wasn’t manly of him to be shy, apparently.

“Don’t worry,” the being clicked his tongue, seemingly annoyed, “I’m not a beast, and I won’t take the opportunity to grope you, rest assured.”

Geoffrey choked on air, staring at the being in disbelief. Why would a man even grope him, to begin with?! He was just self-conscious!

“Why are you making a disgruntled face now?”

Yeah, why? Geoffrey wondered before bowing his head and admitting with an awkward chuckle, “I’m just easily embarrassed, sorry. Don’t mind it.”

“Why are you apologizing?” The being let out a long-drawn-out, exasperated sigh. “If something makes you uncomfortable, just say it, and we’ll find a way around it. If your body weren’t in such a bad state, I’d let you wipe yourself and apply the balm on your own, but you currently physically can’t.”

Fair point. Geoffrey had to admit that the being was right. Just sitting straight was draining him of his energy, and it felt like his head was too heavy for his neck to support. In these conditions, there was no way he could tend to his own wounds.

Although he still had some reservations about using herbs and a strange balm, he decided it was better not to voice his skepticism, just in case.

Another sigh, and the being continued with a somewhat softer voice, as if trying to coax a kid, “It doesn’t mean I can’t accommodate you. I might not be human, but I can comprehend your language, and we can communicate. I can’t read people’s minds, though, so you’ll need to speak up. Anyway, I’ll go fetch something so you can at least cover your nether parts.”

With that said, the being stood up and walked out of the chamber, probably to go into another one. It left Geoffrey speechless for a moment. Then, a smile stretched his lips, curving his eyes into crescent moons, and a faint chuckle escaped him.

“He’s acting all grumpy, but he sure is caring.”

A feeling of warmth bubbled up in his stomach, and the lingering apprehension he still had slowly melted away. At this point, whether the being was a demon or not didn’t matter all that much to him, for the half-deer man felt kinder than most humans he knew.

***

The awkwardness was killing Geoffrey as the being finished wiping his sweaty body in silence. Although the cave was cooler than outside, it didn’t matter when he felt this feverish. The root had helped with the headache, but the fever didn’t seem to want to recede just yet, and his entire body was covered in sticky sweat.

Did he catch a cold on top of everything? Maybe. Summer or not, Geoffrey’s lower body lay in the water under a downpour for a while. When he woke up, only some drizzle was left, but his soaked-through clothing spoke volumes. His seniors had always told him that getting drenched for a long period of time was a sure way to get sick, and perhaps they were right.  

“I’ll be applying the balm now.”

“OK.” Geoffrey nodded, a discreet smile tugging at his lips. The being’s tone of voice sounded as grouchy as ever, yet he made a point to tell him everything he was doing to ensure he wouldn’t be taken aback. Still, the cold balm startled him, and he stiffened. The light pressure also hurt, sending waves of throbbing pain throughout his body, as if a thousand needles were prickling his skin.      

Clenching his jaw, Geoffrey tried to hold in a hiss, but it was without much success. It was hard to keep quiet when everything hurt.

“We’re almost done, so bear with me.”

The hiss transformed into a soft laugh, and the being grunted, “Why is your mood so unstable? What’s making you laugh now?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Geoffrey shook his head, amused by the being’s considerate attitude that contrasted so vividly with his grumpy behavior. “I was just thinking that I still don’t know your name.”

“My name?”

“Yes, your name.”

A moment of silence fell, and Geoffrey peered at the being as he moved sideways to take one of his arms and applied the balm onto the many wounds. Without the large leaves of the herbs, Geoffrey could see the extent of the damage, and again, he felt gobsmacked that no bones broke. It was almost a miracle, considering all the bruises and cuts he had.

“I don’t really have a name,” the being eventually said. “I never needed one, but I guess the witches did call me Cerwin in the past, so you can go with that.”    

“In the past? Not anymore?”

“I don’t interact much with them nowadays—I never really did, to begin with. They lived their lives, and I lived mine. Not intervening in each other's affairs has always been the unsaid rule, and we’ve been coexisting for centuries. That is, until some human settlements decided to go on witch hunts for no reason whatsoever.”

“No reason whatsoever…?” Geoffrey repeated, a lump forming in his throat as his smile strained. He could feel his bowels twist into knots.

“Yes, no reason whatsoever. Give me your other arm.”  

Despite the uneasiness gripping his gut, Geoffrey obeyed. His mind was racing, sorting through all the reasons why his superiors had sent them on witch hunts, trying to come up with something, anything, to excuse the witch hunts, even if deep down, he already knew nothing could justify burning people at the stake. Regardless, his lips parted, and he heard himself say:

“But the witches are fraternizing with demons.”

“Demons? What demons?” Cerwin snorted. “Do you mean me? If so, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m a mountain spirit, not a demon.”

“A mountain spirit…?”

“Yes, a mountain spirit. A being born out of nature who lives in harmony in the territory where he saw the light of day. Unless that, too, is considered evil in your book.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth, but no words came out. Cerwin’s voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he couldn’t bring himself to speak. What could he even say? It wasn’t like he had ever stopped to listen to what witches had to say, to their version of the story. Maybe because he already knew the truth in the back of his mind.

The thing was, he was a soldier and had to follow his superiors’ orders to the letter, however absurd said orders were. Not only because it wouldn’t end well for him if he disobeyed, but also because he was not strong enough to question their commands, for he could tell he’d break down with guilt if he did. So, he followed in Marveck’s path instead, turning a blind eye whenever possible.

Still, at this point, it didn’t mean much anymore. His whole unit had been annihilated by some sort of divine punishment, and the least he could do was to try to learn about the truth and stop wearing blinders.

Being ignorant wouldn’t wash away his sins.

“Then… why did the witch hunts come to be?”

“Because humans get easily scared by the unknown, and those in power are greedy mongrels who use that fear to get what they want and distract their people from a harsh reality. It’s easier to get angry at a marginal group than face those who are too powerful to be confronted, or face the fact that tragedies happen without any divine or evil intervention needed. From my experience, humans always had difficulty accepting things they could not comprehend and tried to come up with explanations for every phenomenon they encountered, even when there were none.”

The words stung, and Geoffrey pursed his lips. He wanted to refute Cerwin, to tell him that his beliefs weren’t wrong, but he wasn’t so sure. He never was. 

Was there not even an ounce of truth behind the evil the witches were accused of?

If that were a lie, then what of the God they told him to believe in?

What if the tragedy that had befell his unit had nothing to do with the divine, and it was bad luck? It was hard to swallow. It was easier to accept if it was a divine punishment for their sins, for it gave his comrades’ deaths a meaning. Their demise then could be seen as a form of atonement for their wrongdoings, and they would be allowed to rest peacefully and not burn in hell for all eternity.

If not, what was the point of their deaths?

“I’m done, by the way.”

“Eh? Oh, right!” Geoffrey let out a wry, forced chuckle.

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he barely noticed when Cerwin finished applying the balm, much less when he started to wrap the herbs around his limbs, securing them with thin cords. Wide movements would most likely make them fall, but it wasn’t like he had any intention to actually move around, except to relieve his bladder. He had just enough strength to crawl to the pot Cerwin had brought him to use as a makeshift toilet, and nothing else.

Even now, staying awake took him everything, and his eyelids had already grown heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if he started to doze off the next instant.

“Just sleep if you’re tired. I’ll go fetch you something to eat in the meantime and wake you up when it’s ready.”

“I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Hungry or not, you need to eat to get better.” Cerwin’s mouth twitched as he carefully pushed Geoffrey onto the bed, pulling the blanket over him. “Even a spirit like me knows it, so how can you not?”

With a pout, Geoffrey grabbed the offered blanket and yanked it up to his nose. His body was too warm, and the air felt too cool on his skin, sending goosebumps all over his body.

Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “Spirits don’t need to eat?’

“No, we don’t. We feed on the pure air around. Well, we can eat human food if we want, if only for the sake of it, and I did enjoy eating a long time ago, but…” Cerwin paused as if thinking of something before shaking his head. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Stop trying to distract me and go to sleep.”

“Ah, was I being too obvious?”

I really don’t feel like eating anything. But that tiny bit, he didn’t say it aloud for fear of being scolded. Appetite or not, his body still needed the nutriments.  

“Your face is an open book, if you didn’t know.”

“Usually, it’s not that bad,” Geoffrey giggled, “but I guess the fever is making it hard to think straight and hide my thoughts.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cerwin didn’t look convinced, and Geoffrey couldn’t resist letting out another laugh, although this one ended in a coughing fit. While short, it left a bad taste in his mouth. He really did catch a cold, didn’t he? Even his nose was starting to feel stuffy.

A rustling resounded as Cerwin got up, visibly getting ready to leave to gather something to eat for him. Geoffrey eyed the slender figure, a question lingering on the tip of his tongue. He hesitated but ultimately couldn’t resist asking. In his mind, a mountain spirit should know.

“Say, Cerwin,” Geoffrey’s voice was soft, barely audible even, “do you think my unit was struck by a divine punishment?”

The being stopped dead in his tracks at the question. A moment of silence passed, and just as Geoffrey thought he wouldn’t get an answer, Cerwin spoke.

“No, it was just bad weather.”  

“I see…”

“Stop stalling and rest now.”

Stalling? Was he truly stalling? Well, maybe. Geoffrey didn’t want to sleep, afraid of what he might see in his dreams. Still, he had to, so he closed his eyes and listened as Cerwin’s footsteps grew distant. Once he was out of earshot, Geoffrey allowed himself to cry for one last time.

The next time he woke, he’d be smiling like always, he’d be his usual carefree self, but for now, let him mourn the family he had lost.