“There’ll be a grand festival in the capital, I’d imagine.”
The word festival made Ollie’s ears prick up once more. But he shook his head firmly and refocused on his book. Dredging up old memories would only bring a bitter taste rising in his throat.
……Ground Clan. Their eggs are mostly black in color, and from the moment of birth they live as independent beings. Their staple food is everything that grows above the ground. They primarily eat fruit grown from trees.
The Ground Clan! Why hadn’t that occurred to him? His pale face lit up with sudden life. It’s the Ground Clan! It was the Ground Clan all along. Thinking back on the egg that had shone with that dark color, his mind cleared all on its own.
They absorb the fruit in its entirety. The flesh, of course, and the vital energy within it as well. That is why, unlike us, they produce no waste.
Asel wasn’t a bird’s egg. That was why Asel hadn’t eaten the chicken egg. And why there had been no waste even after drinking milk. He closed the book, got to his feet, and ran back to the library. He’d return the book and go to the market to stock up on what he needed. And then go home — to Asel, who would be waiting for him.
On his way back, he carried a heavy basket in his hand. He’d bought all of it — seasonal fruit as well as the pricier varieties grown separately at the market. All of it for the child who had been drinking nothing but milk until now.
Imagining Asel happily eating it all up, a grin spread across his face.
“Asel.”
His quiet voice echoed through the tree house and the child, who had been deep asleep, snapped awake in an instant. Ollie startled slightly as he drew near, but the sight of those amber eyes melted his heart immediately.
“You’re beautiful……”
He’d never seen gold before, but surely it had to shine with this same radiant gleam — the gleam of Asel’s eyes. He was gazing into those bright, shifting eyes when he finally noticed, a beat too late, that moisture was welling up in them.
“Hey…… hey, what’s wrong. Don’t cry, come here.”
The child stretched out both short arms wide. At that gesture asking to be held, he smiled and scooped the child up gladly. As the crying grew louder, he pulled a piece of fruit from the basket, wiped it on his sleeve, and held it out. But Asel buried its face in his shoulder and just kept squeezing out tears.
“Oh, you won’t eat? Is it too big? What about this?”
He held out a single grape instead of the plum, but the child still didn’t react.
“Hmm…… strange. The book said the Ground Clan live on fruit……”
The small face, soaked with tears, slowly turned to meet his eyes. Then a tiny hand reached out and barely managed to close around a single grape. He was staring with his mouth hanging open when the child put the grape straight into his mouth. Caught off guard, he spat it out — and at that, Asel burst into tears as if on cue. Ollie hastily grabbed a grape from the basket and shoved it into his own mouth. Only after watching his throat bob did the child stop crying and break into a wide smile.
“Asel. I bought this for you to eat.”
Asel just blinked at him as though completely lost, and Ollie let out a helpless laugh. The child fiddled with his face using small hands, then opened its mouth wide.
“Pfft — you want me to feed you?”
He quickly popped a grape into the child’s mouth and Asel chewed it with great dedication.
“Asel. Open up.”
A giggle, and then that little mouth opened wide again like a baby bird. Watching the child eat so eagerly, he felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Mine, that I raise myself. The satisfaction of that possessiveness was utterly unfamiliar, yet sweet enough to sting the tongue.
“The Ground Clan lives about as long as the Tree Folk, so you and I can live together for a long, long time.”
The child smiled shyly, as if understanding every whispered word. Ollie chose to take that as Asel’s answer — a yes.
The child grew more and more each day. A month in, Asel was walking upright without any wobble. The growth was remarkable — a build comparable to a human child of about two — and yet, strangely, the child still couldn’t speak.
He had put a lot of effort into teaching Asel to talk, but the child only smiled cheerfully without producing a single word. And this despite the fact that from some point on, Asel had clearly understood everything he said.
“Asel. Repeat after me. Ollie.”
“……”
The child, who had been pressed snugly against his calves, gripped his body with effort and climbed up. Then it plopped its bottom down onto his lap as he sat on the sofa. He held Asel’s hands to keep the child from falling, and tried once more.
“Olliie. Say it back, I told you.”
“Uu……”
Apart from laughter, the only sound the child could manage was puckering its lips and grizzling in a low voice. Whenever things didn’t go the way Asel wanted, the child would do exactly that — and as annoying as it was, it was so endearing that he fell for it more often than not.
Still, it would be nice if Asel could talk soon.
Contrary to his restless thoughts, the child was bouncing its bottom up and down and playing with his brown hair. Tugging it, putting it in its mouth and sucking on it. The sight of those two small feet planted on his thighs looked precarious, and he wrapped his hands firmly around Asel’s waist.
Asel could now eat fruit without being fed. And the amount grew day by day. The child who had once made it through a day on just a few grapes could now no longer make it through a day on a whole bunch.
He thought he’d put Asel down for a nap and head to the market. The child had eaten fruit not long ago, so it would be nap time soon.
After Asel fell asleep, he slipped out of the house quickly. He made his way down through the forest at a fast pace. He stopped at the market and made sure to visit the library too. After a long absence, the old librarian was still at his post as ever.
He ignored the greeting as usual and headed inside, but the old librarian said something to him for once.
“Ollie.”
He turned, and David gave a small wave.
“What?”
“Come a little closer.”
“I’m absolutely swamped……”
He grumbled, but stepped closer all the same, and David reached into a drawer and handed him a small pouch.
“What’s this?”
He turned the pouch over in his hands. It was old, and light as a feather.
“Didn’t you say you had nowhere to keep books? From now on, if you buy any, keep them here. It’ll be an empty house before long.”
At David’s gravelly voice, Ollie went still. He looked properly now — at the wrinkled hands, the age spots settled across his face. Something ached below his throat, like a needle pushing in.
“What’s this about. I don’t need something like this.”
“It’ll be an empty house before long, either way. If I’m giving it to someone, I want it to be you.”
“……Hmph. So you want me to arrange your funeral. And this is my payment?”
“I’m not expecting a funeral…… but if you happen to visit where I’m buried each year, I won’t stop you.”
“I’m busy. I don’t have time to be visiting the graves of people who’ve gone and died on me.”
David laughed quietly at the sulky face looking up at him. He thought of the time he’d first started working here. His younger self, without a single wrinkle.
Even then, Ollie had kicked through the door looking just the same as now and roamed the shelves without restraint. The sight of that retreating figure walking out with an armful of books was still vivid in his mind. And yet here they were, having shared nothing beyond each other’s names all this time. There had been a point when David had wanted to be Ollie’s friend, but as the years passed he’d come to understand that guarded stance. The lifespan of the Tree Folk was incomparably longer than that of a human, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like — to be the only one not aging, watching a friend grow old and fade.
Ollie, unchanged as ever. Himself, lined with years. The old librarian, David, watched Ollie tuck the pouch away despite all the grumbling.
Having gathered his books, Ollie — uncharacteristically — stopped in front of David. He looked up at him for a long moment and then whispered in a small voice.
“Goodbye, David.”
“Goodbye, Ollie.”
One last glimpse of that dry, trembling hand waving, and Ollie walked out without looking back. Knowing those quick, light footsteps were likely the last he’d hear of them made it a little bittersweet.
Out on the street, Ollie turned the pouch over in his fingers. He drew in a long breath and opened it. Inside was a key and a small note.
…… No. [blank] at 188.
Along with the address was a brief note from David, expressing his hope that the place would be home to something cherished. Ollie tapped the ache below his throat with his hand. The things you most want to grow used to — you never do.
“I want to see Asel……”
