It was midafternoon, the sunlight created a halo of gold upon thick green leaves. Columns of light pierced gaps within the canopy, illuminating the forest floor. The local beasts were silent, without even a shrill bird call to break the overwhelming quiet. An ambient hiss from leaves was an intermittent whisper whenever a breeze snaked through the trees; each time it raked past there was a kaleidoscope of light that shimmered through the broken hood of green. Amid the hallowed ground, a slight figure nervously crept through the trees.
The boy was an alien here, unwelcome and unwanted by a woodland that had suffered no trespass in generations; his haggard and gaunt figure took a contrast to the otherwise vibrant life that ruled here. No more than a wiry thirteen, peasant clothing frayed past any shelter from the elements and the pale skin beneath it was already matted by dirt. If it was not for the clothing presenting a far more apparent tell, it would have been the drawn countenance of the lad that spoke to the days he'd been in the wild. His cheeks were hollow and thin, marred skin that looked almost ghastly where it lay stretched out against prominent bones. His legs were wobbly beneath him, knees bowed and shivered at each stumbling stride, though less apparent was the ginger way he laid his weight against his feet. Leather boots meant to work open fields were stained red just above the soles, blood from torn feet that had begun to seep through the cheap material.
Though even with the pain of his ragged feet, young Dietrich continued forward; his weary face gave no expression, parched lips drawn to a thin line. Thirst was a perpetual want that scratched at the back of his throat, even when it was briefly sated with moisture that beaded across his tongue with a folded leaf. The woodland was no desert, yet a pauper boy knew to drink from stagnant pools would only invite disease, yet that caution was overwhelming to dissuade him from daring even the sources that appeared pristine. The youth was exhausted, his stomach twisted upon itself in starvation and the growls had abated sometime yesterday; even the pain was faded, though the meekness that invaded his limbs was more terrifying. Dietrich kept marching forward despite it all, yet even faint gusts of wind caused his torso to bow in rythm to it, as if any moment he might keel over. That time came when he fell to his knees without warning, the damp soil beneath him was almost welcoming, sinking down to his slight weight. Dietrich felt cool, rigid bark against his cheek as he leaned forward against a half-rotted stump with his eyes blurry where they stared at an open gap of space upon the horizon.
It took a moment or two for his senses to come alive, his warm skin contrasting the near icy moisture. Dietrich sat up with a sudden spark of instinct, it swept away the fog of exhaustion, dehydration and starvation, sharpening his wits to a fine razor. Moss that had compressed underneath his cheekbone glistened with the water that he had pressed out of it. Dietrich gingerly splayed his hands out to cup the moss, to draw it away from the bark as cautious as possible that he did not lose even the smallest drop. Carefully cradled there, he raised his hands up toward his greedy mouth while he squeezed; water held within the moss began to flow, much of it falling over his tongue while the rest wove channels of clean skin amid the dirt of his forearms. His spine gave a welcome shiver of relief, the chill seeped through his bones. The desiccated remains of the moss were tossed away, turning himself to lay his back against the stump, legs curling up to his chest. His was aware of his hunger even if the pain of it had faded while his body consumed what little fat and muscle clung to his bones still. Weariness begged him to lay here, to wait without word for the end that was slowly consuming him.
Hawk or rabbit, boy.
The voice of his father was clear in his ears, heavy-handed tone that bordered upon a snarl of disdain. Dietrich felt his shoulders instinctively curl, flinching from a blow across the cheek that would not come again. His imagination twisted wildly with deprivation and exhaustion, yet even if the words were a mere subconscious hiss it drew out the same defiant response in him. The boy narrowed his green eyes, finally drawing his horizon into focus.
"A hawk, father." His voice was soft, mere decibels above a whisper. Dietrich became quiet afterward, considering every option that was dragged out before him.
Scratch, scratch.
It was barely audible through the bark, Dietrich felt an almost intangible vibration through the stump that ran through his palm and fingertips as they groped against the rotting wood. It was only that sensation that awakened his jaded mind to a more subtle change in the temperature of the wood. In contrast to a few inches to the right, the timber was warm. His head lurched back and realization quickly snapped through the farmboy and he sat upright. Any boy upon the fringe of society dealt with termites eventually, to most it was a mere pest that would destroy boards of their homes. To Dietrich, verging upon starvation, it promised food. The mere thought of it sent electricity through his eyes and Dietrich coiled his legs up underneath him, even as weak as he was he nearly jumped over the stump, landing in a heap of mud and rotting plant matter upon the other end. Pain from blistered feet howled all the way to his knees, though it didn't override this utterly basic urge. Fingers still damp with the moss water began to dig against the rotting bark, stripping it away without caution or consideration for the splinters that pierced his skin. He did not need to go far until he exposed the heart of a swarm, the writhing pale white surfaces of hundreds of feasting termites. For a brief moment some disgust swelled up in what remained of his reasoning, then was silenced by his gurgling appetite.
Though they had begun to scatter from the light, his hand quickly snapped toward them and he grabbed a handful. Their little mandibles pinched at his skin, still delicate in youth yet he ate them without compunction. Tossed back, he tried not to taste it and swallowed the squirming, writhing insects whole. So long deprived of food, his stomach was devoid of much acid at all and so he felt tiny legs creep against his innards. He wanted to vomit, feeling his chest tense and belly clenched. Despite it he followed it with another handful, precious stores of protein and fat. He ravaged the nest without mercy, each moment that passed his body with responded with even more ferocity. His nails cracked against the edges of the bark each time he scraped at the walls to draw back another few termites. When there was not even a sight of another of the insects, Dietrich fell back upon his haunches. Stomach full with the creatures, some still writhing about even while he began to digest. The protein and fat within them fed the most basic needs of the boy, enough that almost immediately some lethargy sank through every fiber within him. His eyes grew heavy, chin fell to his collar; then there was nothing.
---Dietrich snapped awake only three hours after that sudden meal; it had been no terrifying dream, no noises, only raw cold. The darkness had come upon him quite abruptly, there was only a distant glimmer of stars in the sky, almost entirely hidden behind the thick canopy. His skin had been drawn taunt by the chill, rising up with arms snaking across his torso to clutch in vain at his ribs. Breath poured from his nostrils and lips in a thin vapor, head tipped low as if to double upon himself. In this element his clothing was of little use, so thin a cloth that even had it been whole Dietrich would have found it insufficient. Sleeping upon the ground was a poor choice, he thought now, yet lamenting upon a foolish mistake now would have been a waste. Instead, the boy gathered his feet beneath him, still aching and raw, weary legs still not recovered from the deprivation before. In such an odd dichotomy, the moisture of the wood that had just hours ago been a momentary salvation now looked to be his torture. Not only did it cling to his skin in a layer of dew, but also to every tree branch and bit of foliage. He doubted much of it would carry a spark without decent tinder.
From one direction to the next, Dietrich scoured his limited horizon for even a faint sign of something useable for a fire. Even in the darkness that had drawn over in that short rest, his eyes were acute enough to survey at least a few meters throughout the silhouettes of densely packed trees. Lacking fire some sort of exercise would have been useful to raise his temperature though with what meager food he had eaten it would only serve to starve him further. There weren't many options left available to him, but he did consider the disemboweled stump that he had torn apart in order to fetch his termite meal. Dietrich gave himself a resolute nod, turning himself to tuck himself into the confines of that stump, at least as much as he was able, knees pent up against his chest, head resting against that rotting interior. Even now he could hear the scratching of termites worming their way deeper within the hollowed out enclave, yet the radiant heat that poured off of their efforts quickly soaked into his flesh. Uncomfortable posture quickly stole away any hope for sleep, yet the waif kept his eyes upon the trees in the distance.
In every dark shadow made even blacker by night, there was a haunting face or ravenous beast; he saw motion even when there was none. For every gust of wind that caused the thicket to rattle he stiffened and scoured it with such detail that his eyes hurt. Fear stifled even the most benign silhouette into some obscure horror that only his imagination could fill. It was there, that this young, would be-hawk spent his fifth night in the wild.
---“My, my... what do we have here?” A sultry voice purred, with a languid tongue more used to vapid sex than the eloquence of rhetoric. Before Dietrich could even open his exhausted eyes he felt a slender hand felt brushing along his young cheek and it sent a shock through his nerves that had him leap without being aware of just where he was. A thunk echoed through the stump that had become his temporary bedding as he rattled his head against it and responded to her question;
“Ow! D-d-don't touch me!” His boyish and parched voice cried out in mixed fear, huddling as far into the stump as he possibly could with waifish legs drawn up against his chest.
“Oh come now, I'm not here to hurt you child. It's rare that I have such young visitors.” The voice echoed again as the slender, green skinned hand drew away and for the first time Dietrich bore witness of a forest creature of another kind entirely. Her hair matted and braided with dirt and flowers, yet framed against a chiseled face that was born of utter beauty, hinted with a tender smile that toward men might have promised passion and yet to this young boy was gentle and kind.
Dietrich relaxed a touch, letting his legs unfurl a bit and hesitantly letting her brush her hand along his cheek once again. It reminded him of a nearly forgotten mother, enough so that he squeezed back a few tears that threatened to burst merely from that exhaustion that had claimed him for a scarce few hours. She bid him forward with that same hand afterward, stepping back so that her shadow no longer hid away a midday sun that was just beginning to creep through the forest canopy. He followed after it, standing soon before the nude dryad who was bending down to one knee.
“Let's have a look at you. Hm.” She brushed her hand through his rough shod hair, patting his shoulder once to feel the tension within it and then took up his own much smaller hand within her own. Her eyes were bright green, not unlike his eyes and narrowed in careful study of that grimy paw.
“Well, you're a half starved little runt. What about your parents, mm?” The dryad may have been isolated from all of civilization, but enough men and bandits came through that she was well enough aware of their lives. It was hard not to be while it encroached upon her precious wood. “Shall I take you back to them before they worry?”
“No!” Dietrich recoiled at that thought, snapping away his hand from her and the dryad widened her eyes with surprise. “I would rather stay here and die!” Said in utter earnest, his lungs cracking with the effort to shout it out at her before his knees threatened to give way.
For a moment the dryad was utterly quiet, before offering him a complacent little smile.
“Then you shall stay here with me of course, I can't very well have you dying in my home. My name is.. hm.. well, I think mother would do very well wouldn't it?” She grinned at her new guest, reaching out to pluck at his jerkin to straighten it out over his shoulders.
“I will have to teach you things, like how to survive out here. Put these little gangly arms to work helping me clear up after a storm and the like. Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly and put her hands roughly down upon his narrow shoulders while he simply struggled to keep his wits about him in all this new situation.
“... what is your name?”