“Birrant, maybe it’s better if you… hngg… just… stay here. I swear, I’m fine. Get home safe and I’ll see you tonight,” insisted Zower. Before Birrant could argue, Zower stood at his full height, making him tilt his head back to catch the worried expression on Zower’s face, and took off running, sprinting, toward the edge of town by the forest.

Birrant had every mind to go after his friend, but there was no way he could catch him.

What in the name of the Souls just happened? Zower had never acted like that before. What was going on? Was he actually hurt? Maybe the fight took more out of him than he let on.  

Birrant decided to question his friend later and, for now, go home and gather his supplies to hunt Peekem root the next day.

But his friend didn’t arrive as usual that night.

In fact, Zower didn’t return the next day.

Or the day after.

That second night, Birrant was beyond convinced that something terrible had happened to his friend. So, the next morning, before the first sun’s light, he packed up his satchel with water, food, herbs, and a small blade his father gave him and set out for the edge of the woods.

Yes, there was the challenge of finding his friend since he didn’t know where Zower lived. All he knew was that his friend lived in the woods beyond the edge of town. It was dangerous, but he knew he had to take a chance after everything Zower had done for him.

They were friends after all.

The fair-haired teen set out down the road of the town, spotting the few shops and carts laying out their wares for the day, until he reached the boarder. He vaulted over the four-board fence separating the town from the fields and darted across the field to the tree line.

He scanned the dense forest around him. It wasn’t the first time Birrant had been in the woods. He and Zower had been many times hunting for different herbs and roots that grew nestled in the roots of the mossy shade of the towering trees.

Birrant remembered Zower mentioning making a home by the stream and decided to follow that trail first. Knowing his friend, he most likely made his home upstream. It was as good of a place as any to begin.

He set out, stepping over the first few roots reaching out from the ground to snare unsuspecting travelers.

The forest was a dangerous place if someone didn’t know what to look out for. The roots twisted and turned in loops and knots. The trees

There were mushroom shelves the size of an arm that would release spores that would disorient the inhaler when disturbed. The list of natural dangers went on and on, and that wasn’t even including the creatures that lurked and played in the shadows.

Thankfully, this was part of the trail that the teen was familiar with. The route he took wasn’t too different than the one he took to hunt for Peekem root with Zower, and he knew that one very well.

He ducked under the shelves of mushrooms, carefully traversed over the roots like he was balancing on the edge of the fence post and used some of the vines to swing over the murky, stagnant water. All the while, he couldn’t help but think about his friend. What was going on with him? Was he extremely sick? Perhaps he should have consulted with the Curer of the town.

Nearly two hours of traversing the terrain and worrying passed when familiar sound broke through the natural creaks and snaps of the forest.

The sound of trickling water was near. The brook was close. He grabbed the next vine and leapt across the last gulley, feet perching on the next set of tree roots and balancing precariously on the edge as he stared at the fresh creek water below.

Small stones smoothed by the water flow lined each side of the creek. Birrant scanned the edges of the bank but saw no footprints. He raised his hands to his mouth and shouted as loud as he could, “Zower! Zower? Can you hear me? It’s Birrant! Zower!”

When he received no response, he nodded slowly, sighed, and continued with his plan to follow the stream up until he reached the main body of water, hoping and praying to the Souls that his friend was by this body of water. He followed along the banks, picking up rocks and roots as he went. The second sun would be rising in the sky soon. It would be too warm in a few hours to travel, even in the refreshing shadows of the tree canopy above him.

Birrant needed to find his friend soon, but he would be useless if he didn’t look after himself first. Deciding to save his canteen of water, he knelt by the stream and took some of the water in his hands. It was cool and refreshing, but he noticed something else that he wouldn’t have seen before.

The stream looked like it was pulsing, as if something were causing a disruption of the water further upstream like making waves in a pool.

Was something keeping the water from flowing? And why in a rhythmic pattern?

Birrant cautiously sipped the water but could taste nothing out of the ordinary. Curiosity got the better of him, and he continued to cautiously follow the running water upstream. He followed the twists and turns of the stream until he could see the tree obscured scene of a clean lake.

It looked like it hooked around into a much larger fresh spring lake, and the ripples were now the size of small lapping waves which could cover his feet easily.

He stepped up to the edge, instantly spotting the ripples in the water, and began to follow the rippling lines with his eyes when his blood chilled as though a winter gust knocked the wind out from his lungs.

The ripples that he thought might have been created by a herd of wisent drinking in the cool, clean water of the water was actually being – a giant. The way it was crouched, its head could easily brush against the canopy the trees offered as protection. Dark hair and long, menacing digits made this the most terrifying thing Birrant could possibly face.

Instantly shaking in his boots, he tried willing his body to move, but he couldn’t. He could only stand there absolutely stock still and hope the Mendo didn’t notice.

Sadly, this was short lived.

Birrant thought he might be in the clear when the immense being dipped its hands into the water and splashed its face with water. He started to back away and that subtle movement was just enough for the Mendo’s eyes to catch sight of him. Every nerve in his body shrieked and leapt into action, running back into the cover of the woods.

He didn’t want to see this thing again. He didn’t need to see it. Perhaps it would wander off if it couldn’t find him. The sound of heavy crashing and the splash of water behind him only sped up his movement.

Perhaps he could get away. Maybe if he lost the giant’s line of sight it would lose interest. His hands shook as he fumbled his way up a slight embankment and pried one of the vines off of the nearby trees. Trees snapped and cracked under the weight of this thing.

No time to waist.

He leapt and swung down the gulley, feet skimming the top of the water, before he leapt down and ran back along the most clear path he could see.

“Where’d you go?” mumbled the giant. Birrant gulped back a scream and, instead, tried his best to fill his lungs with air. He was used to running away from his enemies, but this was literally a run for his life.

What was a giant even doing around these parts anyway? They usually stayed away from the mountains and the forests, didn’t they?

Birrant’s racing heart was having a hard time keeping up, skipping every few beats as he leapt from root wad to root wad.

There!

Up ahead, Birrant saw a hole in the roots. It was going to be a tight fit, but what other choice did he have? He dove headfirst into the dirt filled hole, skidding to a halt as he scraped against the roots and wiggled his way into a partial protective barrier.

*THUD*

He could have reached out to touch the barefooted giant in that instant.

“Quit running,” muttered the giant, obviously annoyed. The voice somehow sounded familiar. It also wasn’t as loud as Birrant thought a giant’s voice should sound. The crashing started to subside and Birrant breathed a partial sigh of relief when a thought occurred to him.

What if Zower came across this thing? What if that thing was why he wasn’t back? Maybe he was holding up by the water’s edge waiting for someone to notice and come to rescue him? What if that thing… no… he wasn’t… he couldn’t be…

Birrant had to know.

He carefully shimmied out of his hiding spot, elbows burning from the scrapes he received from raking himself against the gnarled roots of the trees, and started making his way back to the stream when he heard a bone chilling sound behind him.

“Gotcha.”

Birrant whipped around only to be entirely encased in the hand of the giant being. Only his feet were free while everything else was pinned and confined in between the giant’s fingers and palm. He tried screaming and thrashing, but to no avail. He was hoisted into the air, making his insides flip and drop, when he felt a pressure under his feet.

Souls no…

What were his feet touching? Was this the end?

“Hold still. I don’t want to drop you,” said the giant, voice unnervingly calm and even. Birrant felt himself drop and, instantly, he looked down to see he was placed in the giant’s palm. This only gave him a partial sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t the giant’s mouth.

The hand that had him pinned opened slowly, leaving only a small hole at the top for Birrant to look up and see his assailant. His entire body was shaking and if he had taken a drink from his canteen or eaten any of his rations earlier, it would have made a reappearance. All he could see was a single dark eye looking down at him.

“Please don’t be scared of me. I’m not dangerous, I’m just big,” said the giant softly. “Now, I’m going to open my hand. Don’t do anything crazy like try to jump. Okay?”

Just as the giant said, his fingers uncurled and retracted, exposing Birrant completely in the giant’s hand. Weak in the knees, Birrant let himself collapse as he attempted to breathe in quick, short bursts. Shock kept him from sobbing, a single saving grace, and it kept him from babbling pleas of mercy.

“There we go. Isn’t that better?” asked the giant, who Birrant could now see was crouched by the roots of the tree. “Look, I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. You’re the first person I’ve ever seen come out this far and kind of… panicked… oh my… Birrant?”

Birrant stared into the giant’s features curiously, wondering how he knew his name until it struck him like a bolt of lightning. How did he not recognize the features sooner? The tone of voice?

“Zower? You’re… a…” stammered Birrant, now feeling a mixture of nauseous and curiosity. Lightheaded, he shook his head and looked again.

“A Mendo – a giant. Yeah, I know,” replied Zower, awkwardly reaching up and scratching the back of his neck and looking away from his friend.

Sure enough, the giant was his friend.

“But… how?” asked Birrant. “I… don’t understand.”

“I…” Zower, knowing he was found out, nodded his head slowly and carefully maneuvered himself to sit down while holding his friend safely aloft. “Long story short, I left my herd. I don’t have arcane abilities, but I know herbs, roots, and spices which can be brewed into potions. I created a formula, admittedly through trial and error, to make myself small like all of you using herbs and plants like Peeken root. It was meant only for emergencies, but something about your town felt like the right fit. The ingredients can be difficult to find depending on the season, and it takes a while to brew. That’s why I wanted to go to The Lyceum – to find alternatives to the herbs I’m using. I… didn’t realize I was out, which is why I haven’t been back. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my lies, and it’s not like it matters now anyway. You’ll go back and tell everyone, so I’ll need to move again.”

Birrant watched his friend’s face shift to a neutral distraught, seemingly disappointed in himself and hurt that it was a friend who discovered him. He looked reluctant to leave, and if Birrant were being honest, he didn’t want his friend to leave.

“Zower I… I won’t tell anyone,” said Birrant, suddenly piecing everything together quickly. Zower had lost everything because he left his herd, friends and family alike, which technically wasn’t a lie. His world travels suddenly made more sense. Roaming herds could surpass any horse bound travel by nearly three times over.

“I’m not threatening you, Birrant,” sighed Zower, looking dejected and disheartened. “You don’t have to worry about keeping any promises or anything. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m… no… I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Birrant insisted. Zower gave him an unsure glance. “You’re my friend. You fought with me and have been protecting me. It’s about time I had a chance to protect you. Granted, not in the exact same way, but you get the point.”

Zower chuckled, making his hand tremble and bounce his handheld companion.  

“Not the response I was expecting,” chuckled Zower. Birrant chuckled with him.

“You’ve got that right,” said Birrant, now finding himself slightly curious. “Zower, you said you left your herd. Why?” Zower’s eyes flashed with a hundred memories in a moment, ending with him giving a sigh and a sincere but somber look to his friend.

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who was the smallest in town,” said Zower. “Probably one of the reasons why we became friends so quickly. We understand what it’s like….”

“You mean you… the others picked on you?” asked Birrant. Zower looked away bashfully from his friend again but nodded.

“I was hoping to find easier ways to brew the potion that helps my resizing and a way to give it to them so they stop hurting others, like a punishment or negative reinforcer or something, but I’m, as some might say, literature challenged,” mumbled Zower.

Birrant looked up into his friend’s face, hating how much pain he saw, when his long, untouched idea resurfaced.

“Zower, what if… we go together? To The Lyceum I mean,” suggested Birrant. “I was serious about going, and it sounds like you are too. If you were worried about your… um… size… or reading skills, then I can help you. What do you think?”

The giant gazed into his friend’s eyes for several agonizingly long seconds before a smile curled onto lips.

“I think… you and I have some places to see.”