Chapter 6
In Nutwood Hamlet
“Come now, standing around here won’t do. This way, please.”
With those words, Taruen turned his back to them and began walking slowly toward the heart of the hamlet, the soft light of the forest at his back.
Melvil and Maya followed behind.
Along the path, a child carrying an armful of nuts stopped to stare at them curiously, and a woman dyeing cloth with plants paused her work to wave warmly at Melvil.
As he walked, Maya sensed in this unfamiliar scenery a certain warmth and sense of safety—something faintly reminiscent of the mountain village.
Before long, they reached a spot near the village center, where Melvil stopped.
“Maya, there’s something important I need to talk about with Lord Taruen—just the two of us.”
At those words, Maya gave a small nod.
Taruen glanced briefly at Melvil, then softened his expression and spoke to Maya.
“In that case, this area is safe. Go ahead and look around as you like. Both the forest and its people will welcome you.”
With that, Taruen entered a nearby house with Melvil, and the wooden door closed softly behind them.
Maya began walking alone along the narrow paths of the hamlet.
He passed between lines of colorful cloth hung out to dry, listening to the voices of children running with armfuls of nuts, pausing now and then to take in the unfamiliar sights.
Then, from somewhere ahead came the light, rhythmic sound of nuts being sorted, mingled with bursts of laughter.
Following the sounds, he came upon a workshop with its wooden walls half open.
Inside, women sat around low tables, sorting the harvested nuts by color.
The red ones were packed into baskets, while the yellow ones were sliced thin and laid out on drying racks.
An older woman noticed Maya lingering at the entrance and beckoned him in.
“Don’t be shy—come in and have a look.”
Stepping forward as invited, Maya watched their work as the woman explained the uses of each nut.
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The red ones were a snack for children, while the yellow ones were dried and later brewed together with other herbs.
Maya recognized the scent of those herbs. It was the same aroma that filled the herbal tea Amna made for him when he caught a cold.
“So that’s where it came from…”
Maya murmured, feeling as if he had uncovered the source of the quiet, familiar comfort he had sensed in this place.
Then his eyes caught on a decoration hanging deep within the workshop.
It was a ring woven from twigs and vines, adorned with colorful nuts.
The woman noticed his gaze and smiled gently as she explained.
“That is the mark of the Forest Oath.”
“Oath?” Maya repeated.
The woman, sensing his curiosity, went on.
“This mark is to give thanks to the forest and to pray that its bounty will continue. But it is also a pledge—a promise we make to protect and nurture the forest’s gifts, knowing they are not without limit.”
Gazing at the ornament, Maya felt anew how the hamlet lived alongside the forest, and how they safeguarded one another.
After hearing the story of the Forest Oath, Maya helped the women with their work, then followed the children in carrying jars and bundles of herbs to the village storehouse.
As the sun sank in the western sky, small lights began to appear one by one in the square.
Oil dishes hung from lantern frames made of branches, casting a wavering orange glow.
Night seemed to fall a little earlier and feel a little deeper here than in the mountain village, yet within the circle of this light there was a strange warmth, as if it were keeping the darkness at bay.
When Maya stepped into the square, several low tables had already been set out, and dishes made with nuts, dried meat, and wild greens were being placed upon them one after another.
Steam and savory scents mingled with the cool night air, stirring a strange yet familiar nostalgia.
Taruen and Melvil were also surrounded by people near the center of the square. Taruen spoke to someone with a hearty laugh, while Melvil was greeted by familiar faces.
Then someone raised a wooden cup high, and a voice rang out across the square.
“Come now, tonight we feast in welcome!”
And so, the night in Nutwood Hamlet began.
With the clinking of wooden cups, laughter and conversation filled the square.
By the fire, a great pot of nut soup sent up steam, while fragrant roast meat and colorful wild-vegetable salads adorned the tables.
The forest dwellers’ table was simple, yet held a quiet splendor, and Maya was captivated by its scents and sights.
“Hey, Maya!”
At the lively call, he turned to see Kiv running over, waving, with several smaller children following behind.
“See, this is him! He came from the mountain village!”
At Kiv’s introduction, the children gathered around Maya at once, looking up at him with eager curiosity.
“Does snow really fall all the time in the mountain village?”
“Is it true that outside the forest, there are no trees no matter how far you go?”
“Is it true there’s a village near the mountains where only dogs live?”
Questions came in rapid succession—every time Maya tried to answer one, another was thrown at him.
Overwhelmed by their enthusiasm, Maya couldn’t help but laugh.
Soon, Kiv tugged his hand, saying,
“This way, this way!” and led him, with the other children in tow, to a small fire at the edge of the square.
There, they offered him freshly baked nut pastries, and when he bit into one, sweet-and-tart juice filled his mouth.
“Delicious!” he exclaimed, and the children exchanged happy glances before launching into talk of their favorite foods and games.
Their smiles, lit by the firelight, made the forest night feel all the warmer.
As the feast drew toward its end, the children near the central bonfire formed a circle and began to sing.
Handclaps and foot-stomps rang lightly through the night forest, mingling with laughter and the crackle of the fire.
Before he knew it, Maya had joined the circle, laughing alongside Kiv and the other children.
They tossed small nuts back and forth in play, each face glowing vividly in the firelight.
His stomach was full, and his heart was warm and content.
The weariness from the day’s journey since leaving the mountain village, combined with the soft warmth of the moss underfoot, made Maya’s eyelids grow heavy.
Noticing this, Melvil gently draped a nearby cloth over Maya’s shoulders.
“We’ll stay here tonight and set out for the mountain village in the morning.”
At his low, reassuring voice, Maya gave a small nod and drifted to sleep, wrapped in the bonfire’s warmth.
Just before sinking fully into sleep, he heard a strange lullaby from somewhere.
“…Budi… Bran-Budi… Dance with the rain, Bran-Budi. Run with the wind, Bran-Budi.”
In the hazy space between dream and waking, only that melody lingered faintly.
The next morning, upon waking, Maya and Melvil were given many gifts by the villagers: baskets of nuts and herbs, plant-dyed cloth, and more.
Waved off by the smiling villagers, the two made their way along the forest path, leaving Nutwood Hamlet behind.
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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.
