Chapter 132: Chapter 130: Five Nini-men walk into a forest. How many frogs are in his head?

Hineni wanders through the deep forest alone, simply unable to tell if it is night or day. The heavy, looming boughs of the trees hang heavily over his head. Their thick, old branches hold an interconnected crown aloft that is so thick and dense that to see beyond it is a simple impossibility.

 

He’s tried starting a fire with his ash-magic in order to burn his way through to the sky. But the leaves and the wood are so rich and moist that the hottest sparks that he can produce simply don’t ignite into flames.

 

“— Bunch of wobbly-woo,” mutters Hineni to himself, wandering towards where he vaguely assumes north to be.

 

The least the frog-god could have done would have been to bring him back, since he'd been kidnapped all the way down to the south. But no, he has to walk.

 

Hineni sighs, standing still.

 

His eyes rise up towards the canopy, and he thinks.

 

Why haven’t any of the others come for him? Rhine? Obscura? Sockel? They’ve always come to find him when this stuff happens.

 

He stands there, staring at the odd crown of leaves rustling together. Their thousands of individual silhouettes mesh together like an unentangleable bundle of matted, greasy hair.

 

Do they not know where he is? That’s possible, right?

 

Hineni keeps on walking as the forest rustles around him with the whisper of many excitedly shaking leaves.

 

---

 

Sure, they live on the edge of a war-zone and all. It’s possible that anyone who thinks he went missing would point fingers at the elves first. They live right next door, after all.

 

The south, the deep south, where he is – this is further away. The territory of the big-frog… How many days or weeks away is this by cart? How many months is it away from his people by foot?

 

— Sure, they’d think of the frogs eventually and think to look for him at the pond of the big-frog and, if she could, Obscura would have done so already, or?

 

Surely the owl-god can just… fly there, over the forest? It wouldn’t take a day, and if he’s been told the truth, he’s been gone for four now.

 

Or can she not do that?

 

Hineni rubs the back of his head.

 

How does Obscura’s power even stack up to the big-frog’s? It’s never been put to the test, has it?

 

Maybe she’s not strong enough to fly through all of this to reach him?

 

After all, if she was, then she wouldn’t have spent all of this time collecting power.

 

That means that, even if she knows that he is here, the owl-god can’t get to him while he’s in the overpowering domain of the frog-god.

 

Hineni sighs in relief.

 

That means he hasn’t been abandoned.

 

— He’s just somewhere unreachable this time.

 

The whispering voice in the back of his head dissipates as he shakes it off and keeps walking.

 

---

 

Would Nekyia let him walk through here by himself if it wasn’t safe?

 

It is later, he thinks. It’s hard to say. The forest all looks the same, and when you walk, it all kind of looks like it did a minute ago. With nobody to talk to or to focus on, time gets… weird.

 

But he recalls all of the horrific stories of things here and there that scour these woods, especially this deep down in the south — incomprehensible, strange, horrific things.

 

Hineni sees nothing of the sort.

 

You are reading story Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] at novel35.com

Surely Nekyia, in her odd insistence on kidnapping instead of murdering him, wouldn’t send him out into the wilds here to get eaten on his way back?

 

He looks around the area and shrugs, deciding to keep walking for a while.

 

He could use a bite to eat. But, well, that’s life.

 

— The forest whispers.

 

This is very unusual for a forest to be doing, of course.

 

Hineni narrows his eyes, watching the trees that are speaking elvish as he walks, getting ready to snap his fingers at something.

 

He should have enough soul-points left for a few spells.

 

---

 

It’s definitely nighttime now.

 

He can tell because of how cold it's gotten.

 

Hineni grabs a stick, trying to set it alight, but the spell doesn’t catch. The wood here in this part of the forest is just too wet and damp to even start smoldering a little.

 

The man sighs, tossing it over his shoulder and into the underbrush.

 

Barring the odd power-nap, he hasn’t slept in days.

 

Sleeping in the presence of the big-frog was, of course, not really something he wanted to do. She’s creepy and weird and would probably either touch him or eat him in his sleep, likely both at the same time.

 

His vision wobbles.

 

Hineni stares off into the forest. It’s whispering to him again. He doesn’t really like what it has to say. It has a very negative disposition.

 

— Sleeping here doesn’t seem like a great plan either, though.

 

How many days has he been mostly awake for? Is it… five?

 

He deliriously looks down at his hand, trying to count. Yeah… five sounds about right.

 

For a second, he only sees two fingers on his hands, as if they were Nekyia’s. But then he blinks and wiggles his digits and finds that all of them are where they should be.

 

“Five, just how I like ‘em,” says Hineni, looking at his hand.

 

Five is a good number. First, it’s a good number of digits to have. Second, it’s a good number of days to have not slept. Third —

 

Hineni stands in the middle of the forest, thinking about at least three other things that are good to have in fives.

 

The trees continue to whisper.

 

By the time he counts to five, his blurred vision spinning, he looks back up at the people coming out of the forest towards him.

 

Elves.

 

“Ah, hell,” mutters Hineni as they encircle him, weapons drawn. He narrows his eyes, counting them.

 

Eight.

 

How meaningless. What kind of number is eight? Ugh…

 

---