My eyes were fixed on the leather shoes that stepped gracefully on rocks and roots. Stump used his cane to swat away errand branches and man-sized ferns. But he did it all the time more rarely. The thicket, through which we had first burst, had given way to a small trail that was steadily widening into a path.
The canopy above our heads was still impenetrable, but there were small lights everywhere. As walking became easier, I had more time to marvel at the bustling wood. There were small and big insects that were glowing, climbing vines that reflected light with silver leaves. Toadstools like lit lamps. Once Stump even made us halt for a whole army of fluorescent moths. Though I wasn't really sure they had been moths. An elven presence had become strong when the moths appeared and it had faded with them. Everywhere reigned a silvery shimmering and shifting twilight.
I sighed eventually.
"Stump?"
He stopped and pushed his staff into the ground between an immense berry bearing plant and the stem of a deeply violet flower that gave off a rich, exotic fragrance.
"Can we stop for a moment? I feel like we have been walking for dozens of kilometers."
Stump frowned.
"Interesting. Of course."
The vampire led us to sit on a relatively flat mossy rock. He reached for a nearby bramble and picked a huge raspberry that gleamed bloodred in the silvery shadows. It seemed too saturated, too big, and too vibrant. He popped it into his mouth and handed me another one.
I took the berry hesitantly.
"Don't worry, son, you already ate an elven berry. Remember? When the elf offered you the strawberry seemingly from Rose's garden. You didn't become sick. You can't. You are already fae, made of magic. It won't harm you, but tastes sweet."
I fidgeted with it, turning the berry so the small grains caught light. It looked like a cluster of rubies.
"Why is it poisonous?" I asked.
"It isn't."
I looked at him.
"I mean, it isn't any more poisonous than vampire blood. Not for the right vessel anyway."
"These make elves?" I asked, looking at the oversized berry I had stuck to my thumb where it fit like a gleaming beanie.
For an answer, Stump broke one berry in his long fingers and showed me the smashed pulp on his palm. I could clearly see the mixture of red juice and unbroken small seeds.
"The seeds take root," he explained. "In anything."
I frowned.
"How do you mean in anything?"
"Vampire blood–that is classically drunk, mind you–is only ever taken by humans. We don't actually know if it would work on animals. Mostly because even for humans it is selective. It only works for some. The blood eats away human flesh. If it doesn't replace the flesh with magic... well, then there is no flesh. I hear those victims die within days of being injected with the vampire essence.
"Vampirism is citymagic. It is tied to metropolises, towns, human settlement. It started in a town.
"And now we are in the Forest. And forests are places that are inhabited by multiple species. The Forest magic is more flexible in this than the City magic. Not selective at all. It takes root in anything where it's welcomed. Humans, animals, insects... Anything."
He finished the speech by staring at his palm, shrugging and then licking the fingers clean. I dropped my berry in the bushes. The idea of seeds taking root in my gut wasn't an appetising notion.
I turned my gaze to the skies. But there was just the dense canopy spotted with glittering insects and glowing vines. I supposed it was still dark though, up there. We had been walking maybe for an hour or two by my estimate that was based on the tired sensation in my feet.
But I didn't feel otherwise tired, or exhausted. Nor was I hungry or thirsty. Or cold. Or too warm. I hadn't sweated. The air felt pleasant. Somehow more moist than it had been in Grenbrea and full of changing, shifting smells of flowers and earth.
I silently wished I had taken my phone with me. I doubted there would have been signal. But taking a photo could have been nice. Then again. Vampires weren't visible on camera. Maybe elves weren't either, or even the whole Forest. Possibly the only photo I could have taken would have been a badly lighted selfie against a dark and muddy background.
Maybe this was for the best. I had never excelled with the camera, anyways.
I was about to stretch myself on the rock, when an alarming thought intruded:
"If you are a vampire," I said to Stump, "What do we do if we don't find Nettle by morning? Do we then stop? I can't carry you for long."
"It doesn't come." Stump said simply. He reached out with his hand and plucked another berry from the bush in front of him.
"What doesn't come?" I asked, though I guessed the illogical answer Stump gave next:
"The morning. Dawn never breaks for me. I have heard of people who have become lost in the Forest, who never saw the night. Yet, personally, I haven't seen the sun since I followed you."
"But you have been with me, when it has been broad daylight," I objected.
"I have been observing you in broad daylight. Not the same." Before I could ask for specifications, he jumped down from the rock and asked: "Now what is that?"
Before I could ask what he had seen, the tall man had darted back to the forest ground and picked up a white sheet of paper. Reluctantly, I clambered down and went to inspect it with him.
"Nettle Green Heart, a letter of acceptance to South Port University."
Stump let me take the paper from him. I found the Forest a bit too dark to comfortably read anything, but I could just make out enough of the bolded text to confirm for myself that Stump wasn't bluffing.
"How...?"
I closed my mouth. After my whole house had blown up, somehow I had received back my cell phone and passport. We were in a Forest of eternal night. Maybe an A4 sheet didn't deserve my amazement.
"What does it mean?" I asked instead.
Stump didn't answer. I followed his gaze. There were more papers. I could distinguish white rectangles strown between tree roots in an almost straight line.
I walked to the next one. A quiz of human bones and their latin names.
A drawing of the human nervous system.
A cheap notebook covers where the course name had become a wet blurr. Seemed like it had experienced a downpour.
A quote in latin on a torn page: Medicus curat, natura sanat.
I turned to ask Stum what it meant.
I was alone. Trees around me swayed slightly, sighing in the soft breeze. I heard leaves whispering and, when I looked above, I perceived the pale blue sky through a sparse canopy. Light was augmenting. That was why I had been able to read the handwritten texts.
I let my hand fall to my side, still holding the pages I had collected. Now that my attention had been drawn to my surroundings, I saw dew glittering, I heard the silence of an early morning and smelled the freshness of the breeze that had known the cooling night.
After a moment of standing stunned, I walked to where the last page lay against a mossy bed, surrounded by dew drops that reflected the morning.
A drawing of a forest creek.
It wasn't at all unlike the water stream I saw ahead.