Chapter 3: Chapter Three

The village of Decarth stood before us at the edge of the tree line. There wasn’t much to it, the home of maybe 100 people, the majority of them farmers. Most were dressed in worn-out work clothes colored in faded browns and blues. 

Few people were free of dust or small bits of grass. I watched the majority of workers finishing up their lunch break for the day, sun high in the sky. It must have been a little after noon. 

The people who worked the village’s crops were starting to stand up, groaning and popping their knuckles and shoulders. Men and women left a large area of long wooden tables I assumed served as a spot for daily communal lunch breaks. 

“They smell like sap,” I said, sniffing the air as the wind blew toward us. My hair whirled around me and covered my eyes for a few seconds before being recaptured by gravity. 

Red stood next to me, eating an apple. In between bites, she pointed at the farm workers. 

“It’s to protect them from the sun,” she said, chewing slowly. “They draw sap from yarn trees, dilute it with water, boil it, and it becomes a salve that keeps them from getting burned while working the crops.” 

Looking for large fields of corn or wheat, I found nothing of the sort. Instead, I saw a small trail running from north to south through the village and a small lake nearby. Trees from the forest made up more than half the boundaries of Decarth. 

“Where are their crops?” I asked, watching the workers enter a different part of the forest with tools to draw out weeds, as well as sacks of fertilizer. My nose burned when I detected it, and I almost leaned over to puke. 

Ruka should have warned me about her nose, I thought. Damn senses were neat at first, but now that the new experience has worn off, I’m starting to understand their disadvantages. 

It was very easy to get distracted when I heard a hare running under the bushes several hundred feet to my north or the scent of a beehive I couldn’t see, but could absolutely smell, fresh honey making my mouth water. 

Red would laugh as I got distracted and poke my cheek to bring my focus back to whatever it was we were doing. It’d taken us all morning to reach Decarth from her camp, and we were only able to keep up the pace necessary to do that because my wounds had mostly healed overnight. 

I was still sore, but when Red replaced my bandages, she remarked how much better they were looking. A bowl of morning stew made from dried veggies and seasonings Red had on her and half an hour of gradual stretches had me feeling like a brand new goddess. To make matters better, she assured me I’d heal even faster the more power I regained. All the more reason to find the four pieces of my heart. 

My wife’s voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to my previous question. 

“They grow heathar under the trees. It’s a grain that’s been cultivated in the last century, popular because it doesn’t require much sunlight, and it’s cheaper to plant than wheat and rice. The fact that it can mix with the trees in a shared ecosystem also makes it favorable for smaller villages that might not have the resources to clear a patch of trees to replant a field,” Red said. 

While I found the anthropology lesson fascinating in lieu of my missing memories for the time being, it still didn’t explain this detour. 

“Okay, that I understand. But why did we need to stop here? I thought you said the closest piece of my heart was being kept in a town called Costa,” I said. 

My wife took my hand and kissed it gently, which sent all manner of butterflies through Ruka’s— I mean my— stomach. I’m Ruka. Why should it feel weird for my wife to kiss the back of my hand without warning?

Because reincarnation is apparently a gradual process that only devouring my heart can complete, I thought. 

“We’re here to get your sigil,” she said, as though that explained everything. 

But as soon as she’d spoken, a memory rose to the top of my mind like fog coasting in with the tide. 

My arm. . . is empty. And it shouldn’t be.

In my memory, I saw glimpses of what looked like a tattoo on the lower half of my left arm. It marked me as a goddess and was proof of my divinity. When I had power, it radiated with magic, but not because the symbol was the source of my power. Rather, I felt my magic drawn to the symbol whenever I cast a spell or used an innate goddess ability. 

It’s a focus, something through which to channel my power, I thought, realization dawning on me at last. 

Ruka said I’d be reborn with a small piece of her power, but I hadn’t felt it stir once since my arrival in Gyrrelle. It would have come in handy when I was being pumped full of arrows. Now I understood why I had no access to magic. The focus required was missing. 

“What happened to my sigil?” I asked, looking at Red. 

Now that I’d realized it was gone, I almost felt a kind of nakedness. Clutching my left arm halfway between the wrist and elbow, I longed to feel power pulsing along my sacred mark. My heart sank when my fingers touched nothing but blank flesh. 

My wife’s eyes softened as she realized what had occurred. She took my right hand and kissed it again. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re minutes away from being reunited with the mark of divinity. It’s in an old shrine on the edge of that town,” Red said, holding my hand to her lips once more. It helped calm me down some, but between my missing heart and now this mark I’d just remembered, I felt as though I’d never be whole again. A hollow goddess. 

My eyes sank to the ground and focussed on a ladybug crawling across a nearby tree trunk while Red explained how the sigil separated from my body when I’d died and somehow ended up in this town’s shrine. 

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I suddenly wanted nothing more than to rush into town, tearing down any buildings in my path. I craved the mark. My eyes narrowed, and I licked my lips. Remembering the power of a goddess I once wielded fueled a powerful desire as such I’d never felt living in my past life. It suddenly felt like I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life as this. The thought consumed me, and I started to visibly shake. 

Taking a few steps toward town, Red held me back. I lightly growled, turning back toward her. It wasn’t a threat, just a general airing of frustration that said, “You’re keeping me from my goal.” 

Red did not look afraid or even remarkably intimidated. She just grabbed my chin with sudden force and held my jaw tight in her hand. In an instant, all focus and desire melted away into her intense brown eyes. I audibly yipped as she pulled me closer. We stood there frozen for a moment while I waited for her to say something. All thought of being a divine and all-powerful goddess left my mind, chased out by the power and force of this grip from my lover. 

At last, she broke the grim stare and lightly pecked my nose. 

“Good girl,” she said, and my face flushed without control. I inhaled with a tight hiss and found no words available for a response. There was just no vocabulary left in my mind, only flustered noises. 

When she released my chin, I froze in that position for another minute before I remembered movement was a thing. 

“You can’t just rush into town like that, breaking into a shrine and emerging with a divine mark. Some folks might realize who you are,” my wife said. 

I put my hands slowly on my hips. 

“I was told that the belief of others in my name and deeds would make me stronger. Wouldn’t showing up to claim my divine mark do just that?” I asked. 

“Maybe, but it’s not worth the risk of word traveling back to the Bear God that you’ve been resurrected. In your weakened state, it’d be a simple thing for him to kill you again. And. . . I don’t think my heart could take seeing such a horrible image twice,” Red said. 

My shoulders slinking, I lightly scratched the chin she’d recently been holding. 

“What about the guy who ran past you in the grotto? Won’t he tell the Bear God I’m back?” I asked. 

My wife shook her head. 

“He won’t be an issue. While you were sleeping in this morning, I snuck off and tracked him down. I made sure to let him know if he spoke of what happened, we’d find him and his family and sacrifice them to the Wolf Goddess,” Red said. 

I grimaced. 

“Okay, but. . . people won’t make sacrifices to me, right? That’s not a thing I want to see or hear about,” I said. 

“I think you’ll be surprised what people leave on your altars once they learn you’re back. But we should make sure folks don’t know of your resurrection until you’ve got enough power to defend yourself from would-be attackers,” Red said. 

Her cryptic answer did little to assuage my earlier discomfort, but I sighed and asked how she wanted to handle reclaiming my sigil. Turns out the first part of her plan was to give me her green cloak to cover my tail. 

“Keep that hood up to hide your ears, too,” Red said. 

I did as I was told, but her cloak wasn’t as big on me since Red was at least a foot shorter. Hiding my tail would be more difficult, especially if there was a breeze. 

“No problem,” she said when I pointed that out. She reached into her pack and pulled out a spare belt, tying the cloak at my waist. 

I scoffed when she tied it up. 

“Keep your tail up and pressed against your back. No wagging, or you’ll blow our cover,” Red said. 

Easier said than done, I thought. I haven’t exactly learned how to control the damn thing yet. 

We finally stepped out of the treeline when Red pointed out the straw roof of my shrine across the way. Knowing where my sigil was brought a small bit of relief, but what I most wanted was an end to this naked feeling. 

“Ready to reclaim your mark of divinity?” Red asked. 

I grinned and said, “Lead on.”

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