Chapter Text
The door creaked. It always creaked of course, usually more loudly first thing in the morning when the sun barely reached the cabin to warm its solitary silhouette.
It was like a ritual to Shadow. The door would creak as it opened and he would adjust it with care, before taking a good look at the endless forest covering the landscape. Breathe in the intangible sharpness of the fog clinging to the mountain flanks. Then get back indoors and take a moment to brew some coffee and fix himself some bread and jam.
The mornings were often harsh in the mountains. A cold, misty air would seep from the dew-covered grass, made worse by facetious winds dancing along the reliefs. Shadow was used to this, his thick wool jacket a sufficient help to withstand a day of work in the forest. He did not fear the blazing sun of summers nor the fierce snow of winters.
Something was off that day, though. The hedgehog felt it right away: a subtle hint of wrongness brought to him by the breeze, like a tainted promise of bad days to come. His quills stiffened slightly as he frowned, his intuition warning him of a vague menace from faraway.
Still, he closed the door to get breakfast. The woodcutter was pragmatic: ominous feelings or not, he needed some food to get on with his day. As the coffee pot heated on the old iron stove, the mobian's thoughts wandered. To the young bear who ordered reserves for the upcoming winter. To the old baker who would always give him a smile, tired but genuine. To his forever friend Rouge, and her eternal will to make him move closer to the rest of the village.
He shook his head and focused on preparing toasts. The bat's efforts were fruitless, obviously: the woodcutter was not one to meddle with others. His life was one of loneliness and contemplation, no matter how much his friend would complain, and it was a fate he accepted long ago. The villagers were sympathetic to him and he appreciated it, but he carefully kept his distance.
The fire gently roaring in the stove reflected in the golden bracelets he always kept on his arms and legs.
It's for their own good.
A branch creaked. They always creaked of course, it was a common occurrence in the woods with all sorts of critters wandering the wilderness. But Shadow was akin to a hunter, senses sharp enough to pick up the faintest hints after countless days spent in nature. He knew such a branch would not break under the lean step of a small animal.
After a glance at the tree he was working on to make sure it would not fall unprompted, he turned with a small smile. Leaning against his largest axe, he faced the tall bat nonchalantly walking to him.
"Nice to see you, Rouge."
The lady grinned in return, taking a moment to look at her friend up and down. At the dawn of his thirties, the hedgehog had an inexplicably charming aura despite his abrupt demeanour — and the bits of leaves and bark constantly stuck on his shirt. To her eyes, he wasted his days living like some grumpy hermit.
"Hello honey. Figured I would find you around here rather than at your house."
"Of course. The cold days are coming fast, the villagers need their wood and it requires time to dry beforehand."
The bat nodded as she glanced at his payload, a cart already half-full of chopped trunks and branches.
"Have you considered taking a moment for yourself lately?" she asked, rolling her eyes at the sardonic huff in response. "Surely an ale with someone would not kill you, and I'm quite sure it would delight your neighbours."
"We're not neighbours," Shadow growled as he picked his axe again. "The village needs me and I need the village. It is as simple as bees and flowers living thanks to each other. Nothing less, nothing more."
Rouge sighed at the blunt statement. Her friend was not mean-spirited, he was charitable and kind even. But his solitary nature only got worse as time passed, and not for a good reason.
“Ah well,” she sighed. “I see today is not the day I will bring you out of your shelter.”
Shadow simply shrugged at the words, giving a powerful but precise strike at the tree in front of him.
“Anyway,” the bat continued as she sat on a large stump, “this is not why I came to see you. I need your help.”
The woodcutter stopped his axe in-air, glancing at her curiously. Rouge was the oldest friend he had — not that he had many — and he could hear the concern in her voice as clearly as a nightingale song.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards the bat.
“More than wrong,” she replied. “A farmer came to me because his crops are getting sick. A strange illness I never heard of, that turns plants dark and brittle like they were made of ash."
"This does sound worrying,” Shadow nodded. He could not remember ever seeing such an ailment.
“It's the third case in a week,” she added with a somber stare. “All different crops from different villages. They tried various remedies but the fields simply die. It's a slow illness but nothing seems to stop it. The other healers never saw it either, nor do their books mention it.”
Now this was much more troublesome. If left unchecked, such a plague could starve families and compromise next year's reserves. Shadow gritted his teeth, the uneasy feeling from earlier growing more vivid.
“Do you know where to look for a solution?"
"I do not,” Rouge said with a shrug. “But maybe the wise cat knows something about it, or might have a clue to a cure."
The hedgehog groaned at this. He could not stand the old one. No one questioned their unexplained powers and wisdom, not even Shadow, but they were always cryptic in their answers and painfully slow to provide. Plus their house was almost two days from the hedgehog's cabin.
"And you want me to go ask them," Shadow stated, defeat already peeking through his voice.
"You know the things of nature better than anyone in this village besides me. And while I can fly, you're fast on your feet," she said with a gesture to his carefully maintained shoes.
"What will you do in the meantime?" he asked, looking towards the rest of the village.
"Study some samples, map where the disease has spread.” Rouge joined hands in a concerned gesture. ”As a healer I can't just leave like that, especially without an apprentice to replace me. We don’t even know if the sickness can spread to mobians."
"Fine. I will go tomorrow by dawn," Shadow accepted reluctantly, "just let me finish my work for today. Plague or not, the villagers need fire to live on."
With a chuckle, Rouge sat up and deployed her purple wings.
"I know that well, do not worry. Come see me before you leave, and oh! If you see good mushrooms, please bring them along!" she exclaimed.
"Ingredients for a remedy?" Shadow asked with curiosity.
"Well yes, that too, but mostly to perfect my signature stew!" she laughed before soaring through the sparse foliage, leaving the woodcutter alone with his thoughts.
His guts were full of knots as he resumed his labour. His very nature made him sensitive to the whims of fate and magical threats, and right now his whole body buzzed as if to warn him of... something.
Maybe it was a good idea to seek Big the Wise.