Chapter 5

  To Nutwood Hamlet

  About an hour’s walk from the mountain village, the “Bright Woods” gradually gave way to the “Deep Forest,” where even taller trees arched high overhead.

  It was not a dark place—sunlight filtered softly through the lofty branches, and the air carried a faint dampness and a subtle fragrance.

  Maya had been to the Bright Woods a few times with Amna to gather nuts, but he had never set foot in the Deep Forest beyond. Today, on an errand for Amna, he was traveling there with Melvil, a hunter from the mountain village, bound for the Nutwood Hamlet.

  As they stepped out of the bright woods, the air grew noticeably cooler.

  The sunlight still streamed down, but the shadows cast by the trees deepened, and the sound of the leaves’ rustling lowered to a subdued whisper.

  At the entrance to the forest, Melvil raised both hands high and clapped twice— Clap, clap.

  The sound was swallowed into the depths of the woods.

  Maya began to ask what the signal meant, but before he could, Melvil had already stepped into the forest. Hurrying to follow, Maya’s gaze darted everywhere, taking in this unfamiliar place.

  It was different from the way the wind stirred the branches in the Bright Woods; here, it felt as though great masses of air rolled through, moving the entire forest at once.

  Melvil walked like a hunter intent on leaving the forest undisturbed—pushing low branches aside, testing the ground before each step, and making as little noise as possible. On his back lay the quiet weight of someone who had shared many long years with this forest.

  —How far had they gone?

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Melvil suddenly stopped and pressed a finger to his lips.

  “Quiet…” he said in a low, brief voice.

  Maya held his breath and stood still.

  The next moment, the branches overhead shook violently.

  Something dropped down at great speed.

  Startled, Maya fell backward onto the ground.

  In front of Maya was a monkey hanging upside down from a vine...or rather, a little boy.

  The boy laughed mischievously at Maya’s reaction.

  Melvil’s mouth curved into a warm smile.

  “I knew it. Kiv.”

  Maya, still wide-eyed, looked back and forth between Melvil and the boy called “Kiv.”

  Without waiting for Maya to make sense of the scene, Kiv grinned even wider, flipped himself nimbly to the ground, and bounded over.

  “Who are you?” he asked, leaning close to peer into Maya’s face—then, without giving him a chance to answer, fired off more questions in quick succession.

  “What’s that you’re carrying? Where’d you come from? What are you here for?”

  Every time Maya opened his mouth to respond, Kiv’s attention leapt elsewhere. In an instant, he was at Melvil’s side.

  “What are you doing here, Melvil?”

  “You haven’t changed a bit,”

  Melvil chuckled, roughly ruffling Kiv’s hair.

  Kiv laughed, “Heh-heh…” clearly delighted to see his old acquaintance again.

  Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Kiv called out, “This way!” pointing deeper into the forest before dashing off at an easy, practiced pace.

  Maya and Melvil exchanged glances, then had no choice but to follow the small figure ahead.

  The path wound between trees, the scent of soft earth growing stronger. Above, overlapping leaves broke the sunlight into countless shifting patterns that danced at their feet. The calls of birds mingled with the faint plunk of nuts falling somewhere in the distance.

  And then—the view opened.

  Before them lay a small hamlet nestled deep within the forest.

  Several round-roofed houses stood in a loose, comfortable arrangement—not too close, not too far apart. Low trees and flowers grew between them, and underfoot spread a carpet of soft moss.

  The surrounding forest cradled this place like a great green cradle, keeping the outside world at bay. And the hamlet itself seemed to embrace its people in the same gentle way.

  Kiv turned back, spreading his arms wide with a beaming smile.

  “Here we are!” he called.

  In the stillness of the forest and the hamlet, his voice lingered for a moment before melting softly away.

  As Maya looked around at the scene, a voice called out from a little way off.

  “Hey, Kiv… Kivilril!”

  “That’s Gramps!” Kiv shouted, dashing toward the sound until he vanished from sight.

  Maya and Melvil barely had time to catch their breath before following. Before long, they came upon an elder—no taller than Kiv, but with deep-set wrinkles and a white beard.

  Kiv puffed his chest out and declared proudly,

  “I brought Melvil!”

  Melvil stepped forward and bowed deeply.

  “Master Trolavill Taruen, it has been far too long.”

  The old man’s laugh rumbled deep in his throat.

  “Ho-ho-ho… ‘Taruen’ will do. My full name’s far too long to bother with.”

  He tapped his staff lightly against the ground and shook his shoulders with mirth.

  Then, noting their shortness of breath, he gave Kiv’s head a light rap with his staff.

  “You little rascal, bringing them here without so much as a word of explanation.”

  Kiv only stuck out his tongue with a cheeky “Heh-heh…”

  Maya could only watch, caught between surprise and amusement at the boy’s boundless spirit.

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  AI disclosure: I am a non-native English writer and have used AI for partial translation and light editing. No AI-generated prose.