Thornwick Rootshield's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Thornwick stood at the ancient stones and raised the horn to his lips. The sound that came out matched the rhythm he'd practiced all week—steady, low, and calm. A rabbit emerged from the brush and sat ten paces away. Its ears twitched but it didn't run. Thornwick held the note for three more breaths, then lowered the horn. The rabbit remained still, watching him. He tried a higher note, softer this time. The rabbit's nose wiggled and it hopped two steps closer. Thornwick's chest swelled. This was progress—real progress. The scrolls had been right about the patterns. He set down the horn and watched the rabbit until it finally bounded back into the forest. Tomorrow he would try the song on something bigger. The next morning, Thornwick pulled a carved wooden flute from his pack. He'd traded for it two weeks ago, but the horn had needed his attention first. Now felt like the right time. The flute was lighter than the horn and covered in symbols that glowed faintly in the dawn light. He blew into it and a bright note rang through the clearing. Birds answered from the trees above. He played the pattern from the scrolls—three short notes, one long, then a dip that curved like water flowing downhill. A blue-feathered bird with a lion's mane landed on a branch to his left. Its tail swayed like a lion's, keeping time with his melody. Thornwick kept playing and the bird began to sing along, its voice clear and strong. He lowered the flute and the bird stayed where it was, still singing. Its pastel feathers caught the morning light. Thornwick smiled and played again, this time adding a trill at the end. The bird matched him note for note. After several minutes, more birds gathered in the branches. They formed a chorus around him without any fear. When he finally stopped playing, the lion-tailed bird hopped closer and tilted its head. Thornwick reached into his pack and scattered seeds on the ground. The birds descended and ate while he sat against the ancient stones. This was better than he'd hoped. The songs were working. By afternoon, Thornwick had drawn a small creature from the underbrush—a odd thing with a frog's body, goat horns, and a cat's face. It croaked and meowed at the same time, responding to the lower notes from his horn. He played for it until it sat within arm's reach, calm and watching. Thornwick knew he couldn't let it wander off yet—not when it showed such trust. He pulled out a tall cage he'd woven from branches days ago and set it beside him. The horned cat-frog hopped inside when he placed berries at the bottom. Thornwick secured the door gently. The creature ate and purred, content. He had his first companion, won through song just like the scrolls promised. The earth had shown him the way, and he'd listened. Tomorrow he would practice with bigger beasts, but today was enough. Today proved the songs worked.