The breeze was soothing, the birdsong sweet, and all was as it should be among the garden. The sunflowers angled towards the filtered sunlight, the carefully-arranged trellises barely beginning to bud with dew shining on emerald satin leaves. Galileo took pride in his wildflower garden, kept neat without detracting from the beauty of nature. He enjoyed the fascinating way ivy twined, flowers blooming in sprays of color that he could have never dreamed of organizing himself. He was content to drink in the sight drenched in morning light before he began his work for the day.
Once the moment had passed and his heart had settled into it’s familiar place, lazy and content between his ribs, he padded towards his hives. The beehives had been lovingly coaxed into a proud cacophony of buzzing, some bees swaying through the air to bump into Galileo and nuzzle into his ample mane. He didn’t mind the company as he checked each busy nook, scent imprinting upon his memory, reminding him of love, of home, of the good things long past.
The work was by habit now, but never without love. There was a peaceful cadence in it, uninterrupted. But this day, the birds stopped singing without his notice. He turned to fetch a watering can and in a moment, life spiralled out of order as a flash of color clouded his vision and he felt tiny hands bury themselves in his mane. A broken whimper came from the strange interruption and confusion changed into a protective instinct that had him wrap his arms around the bundle, pick them up and carry them inside his home, murmuring words of comfort. Once inside, he heard the forest shaking, the birds screeching as they were scared from their homes. Eyes greener than ivy with strange peach irises shone with tears as they met his own, and he saw a child, lost and alone, desperate to be saved.
“Little one, stay here, hide if you can. I’ll be back soon,” he murmured, despite his mind’s chiding and his heart’s fearful thrumming. The child bit their lip and nodded, uncertain but trusting the beekeeper’s soft words.
What have I gotten myself into? He could only think helplessly before he walked slowly to his watering can, as if nothing had happened after all. Just as he bent to pick it up, a voice that rang with authority called to him, “Halt, hermit. I must ask if you have seen a lost child? We seek to bring him home.”
As he looked up, he was greeted with an intimidating smile that promised only lies, the woman obviously forcing her body to attempt a casual pose as her hand lay upon her sword, muscles taut with the intent to pounce. She was a tigress hunting her prey, thrilled with the chase and unconcerned with how long it would take to play with it once caught. He felt a shiver run down his spine but his voice was steady, quiet from little use, “I have seen no one here for some time.” The truth, but worded carefully.
The soldier’s smile turned from warmth to gritted cold, anger licking like a flame in her eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, there was a sudden noise from his cottage. He tensed slightly, cursing inwardly to all the deities while begging that she hadn’t heard.
She had, suspicion clouding her expression as she asked slow and with clear intent should he not answer truthfully, “Aren’t you going to see what that noise was?”
He shrugged, shifting the watering can to rest on his hip as if he were not concerned with her, “Likely a bird or squirrel, I often nurture injured creatures who attach themselves to my home for a season.”
She licked her lips, clearly irritated but far less suspicious than before as she exhaled, “Well, if you see a child–”
“I will call for you. I do not wish to keep a child from his home.”
She nodded curtly before turning to vanish once more into the woods, strangely not calling the name of the missing child. But he knew that home was not where she would have taken him. He doubted the child had a home.
He watched the trees until he was certain she had gone, then dropped the can and strode towards his home, now occupied by a certain child that upon opening the door he finally got a proper look over him.
The child was curled up beneath the kitchen table, hiding behind the tablecloth until the door opened and he peeked out to see Galileo. The child relaxed at the sight, rubbing away the tears on his dark-skinned cheeks as if trying to hide evidence of his fear.
More remarkable than his eyes however, was the sudden intrusion of mushrooms from his feet, the fungi growing as if blasted out from the child. He didn’t know what to make of it, speechless.
“Forrest. My name is Forrest,” the child finally said in a quiet, uncertain voice. “Thank you.”
“Galileo,” he answered, kneeling with a careful uncertainty. “You’re welcome.” Forrest tugged a hat that seemed to be the top of a spotted mushroom down over his eyes, stammering out an apology, “Ssorry for the…the fungi, I’ll leave.” Clearly he was still terrified, exhausted, and desperately in need of someone to take care of him.
Galileo softened towards the strange magical boy that had landed in his lap, reaching out to help him crawl out from under the table. “Well, you could leave, but before you decide, how about I make you some tea and sandwiches?”
For the first time, he saw a shy smile, uncertain as it was, beneath the cap. Forrest lifted the edge slightly up again, and took the hand offered, giggling a little as a lazy bee flew out from Galileo’s mane and landed on his cap. “Okay. Do you have any honey?”
Galileo smiled back, “Plenty.”
