When Mallory woke up for his nap at the cottage, he was hard press to guess what time it was. He popped his head out of the window but the cottage faced the forest. All Mallory saw were tall trees. When he stepped outside and looked up to the sky, it was better informed: it was a cloudy day. Judging by the movement of the trees’ tops, it was also windy. But it didn’t feel chilly. Down there, at ground level, Cozy Forest was strangely warm, which reminded Mallory how cold the castle could be this time of the season. As it was almost as if Castle Bartack attracted the cold. This place was nice.

The village was nice. He realized now that he had more time to observe it. On the right side of the main road were three cottages on clods, gradually higher from each other. They had grass on their roof. From the green talus to the rooftop of the first cottage, it was just one continuous patch of grass.

Hum. This is nice. Unusual. I wonder if those houses are very old.

Mallory indulged himself in a quick stroll around the village — he had nothing else to do. There were no duties to perform today. No sickbed to sit beside and lament the poor health of his dear family. The family had had abandoned in their direst moment. No, do not go this way Mallory. Gardenia has a sound head. She will make a good queen, better than any king you’ll ever be.

He tried, but no matter how hard he tried to focus his brain on the images in front of him, Mallory was continuously brought back to the ongoing drama at Castle Bartack. Do folks at the castle like my little sister? Hum… it’s hard to tell. She rarely gets out, really. She hasn’t truly made a connection yet with our merchants and smiths. Hum… I kind of miss the sound of smiths hammering down sword, forks, arrows, coins, horseshoes… and whatever else they smithed with metal. Hot metal. Mallory liked to watched the tip of a rough metal turning crimson in the fire. He found it beautiful. It was one of the things he liked watching the most.

Oh… why wasn’t I simply born a blacksmith son. Wouldn’t it have been easier? No other expectations but to forge tools and useful things, like money. It’s not so bad. I wonder if… maybe I could become a blacksmith somewhere. Maybe there is a town outside Cozy Forest where somebody would hire me a smith… Hum… That seems unlikely. I don’t have a forge, or money to buy one. I also don’t have smithing skills, although I’ve got a pretty good idea what to do. I’ve often watched sir Marrow and its apprentices. Apprentice! Yes! That’s what I need to do. I need to become an apprentice. I’m going to become an apprentice. That’s… as good a life plan as I could make one.

Mallory’s thoughts had carried him all the way to the end of the main street. He stood by the last cottage on the left. The door was closed. There was a little sign nailed to the wall, with a small design at its center, almost erased by the rain. It represented a needle and… possibly a scarf, or some kind of cloth. Strange.

That cottage must be old too. Each stone forming the walls was covered in green moss. It was not a bad look, but it made Mallory wonder if those foundations were really solid. Speaking of foundations, a long wall, about two feet high, linked the main street to three other cottages separated by a green patch of grass. It was a wall of dry stone. Each stone was rough and of different size than the others. Yet they were joined together without any artifice of binder and the wall was perfectly straight. Mallory hadn’t noticed at first but now it was all he could look at. He kneeled beside it, wrapped his hand around a stone, picked one at random, and lifted it up. The stone came out of the wall without opposing any resistance. Each stone was just laying on top of each other. Yet, the wall was neat and sturdy, and about fifty yards long. These people are more resourceful that I imagined. How can you make a wall or any construction without lime or binding? This is incredible. They must have a long tradition of wall building. Or… it’s magic. Could it be magic? Can magic do this? If they can become invisible, then maybe they can build walls that stand by themselves.

Mallory’s train of thoughts was inconclusive. He followed the little stone wall, guided by the burble of the waterfall at the end of the village. There was a small stream that ran behind the town hall and the cottages. Now that Mallory noticed the existence of the waterfall, he understood why a wall was built in the first place. The wall did not follow the road; it followed the stream. It was just the road that followed the stream for a while, up to a fork. On the left, a small bridge without guardrail led to a lonely cottage thirty yards off the main path. To the right, were the last three cottages of the village. All of them overlooking the waterfall. Perhaps not the quietest place to sleep at night. That said, the rippling of the waterfall wasn’t very noisy. It was more like background noise. From the heart of the village, Mallory had not heard it. It must be a small waterfall. After all, the stream is very small. The stream was no deeper than two feet by five feet wide. The water was clear. It seemed to call up Mallory, reminding him how thirsty he was. So he jumped over the stone wall and kneeled beside the stream. The water was freezing, but it was good. It felt good. It tasted different from any water he had drunk before. It was more mineral. Mallory liked it.

The water was so clean he could see his reflection in the stream. He had forgotten to shave the previous day and he hadn’t packed a razor. And even if he had packed it, he had lost his satchel somewhere in Cozy Forest. He could see the dark stubble on his cheeks. He stroked them. They felt rugged under his touch. I need a shave.

Although Mallory wasn’t a narcissist, he was so absorbed by his own reflection in the water that he didn’t the grain collectors coming back from the fields.

“Yoohoo.” Someone called up.

Mallory rose like a hare on high alert and saw Meis waving at him. Her broad smile melted his heart. Meis’ warmth was communicative. Just looking at her getting close, looking genuinely happy to see him, even though he had never talked to her before, Mallory felt suddenly heavy. Only now, before the kindness of strangers, did Mallory realized the impact the decisions he had made in the last twenty-four hours will have on the rest of his life. Like a funambulist, he felt like he was still walking on a tightrope, that he was living a particular moment in his life that he would later be able to pinpoint and say ‘hey, this was when my life changed; this is how I became… x’. It was a daunting thought, way more than Mallory could handle. He became light-headed, and he toppled on his feet, leaning both hands on the stone wall to balance himself.

Ducus and Parrus ran to help him. “Are you alright? What’s happening?”

Mallory struggled to breathe. It took him a moment to calm himself. “I’m okay. I-I… I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

Ducus grinned and tapped Parrus hard on the shoulder. “Then you’re in a luck because it’s lunchtime! Come on, lean on us. We’ll take you there.”