Side Colors II

by Isuna Hasekura

  Lawrence pulled himself out of his imaginings and turned his attention back to Holo, who regarded him with a silent expression that said, “So, what say you?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Not bad at all!”

  Lawrence put the map aside and took up the reins; Holo rolled over onto her back.

  The wagon rolled steadily into the forest. It was a clear midmorning, now completely free of any yawning.

  It appeared that someone was still using the road that led into the forest. Hunters, fruit gatherers, or possibly people hunting for wild honey or firewood. In any case, the road was well maintained, and the wagon traversed it easily.

  The forest was just quiet enough and just noisy enough to feel just right for a pleasant detour.

  Until they entered the forest, Holo kept her hands off of the wine, but soon she was enjoying it fully, the echoing birdsong a fine accompaniment.

  Lawrence had of course long since surrendered to the spirit of the detour and was not at all angry. He’d occasionally look back to the wagon bed and warn Holo not to drink it all, but she would thrust the wineskin at him as though to bribe him—and it was a bribe he always took.

  According to the map in his hand, the road they were on cut a thin line sideways through the forest. It was, in fact, the narrowest part of the forest that the road crossed, which made this the quickest way to cross through.

  However, it often happened that roads deviated from what maps might claim, and after a stretch of steady progress, the road began to arc to the right.

  This deviated from the map, but it didn’t seem like a newly built road that avoided a recently fallen tree blocking the old route. The road seemed to have always been this way. But since there was no fork or intersection, Lawrence saw no reason to hesitate.

  He continued to guide the horse along the road.

  “Aye, winter forests…,” said Holo suddenly from the wagon bed. “’Tis better to come in the early morning rather than midday.”

  The road’s visibility was not good, and there was no telling when a wagon wheel might be stuck in a tree root or small stream, so Lawrence couldn’t spare a look back—but going by her tone, Holo was reasonably drunk.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mm. Even a forest like this has some leaves that fall to the ground, does it not? Over the night they’ll become soaked with dew, which turns to mist in the morning sunlight. If we’d been able to get a breath of that…”

  “…The misty air would be a delicious balm to our winter-parched lungs,” Lawrence finished, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at.

  “For afternoon visits, summer is best. Rays of sunlight stream through the leaves and tickle one’s cheeks like the feathers of a songbird.”

  “Too many flies in summer, though.”

  Lawrence was a seasoned traveler himself and knew perfectly well the good and bad parts of forests in any season. He heard Holo’s ticklish laugh just as he had expected to. Unbidden, a vision of a sun-dappled Holo, flicking her tail to and fro to chase insects off her, rose in his mind.

  “Still, forests are lovely places. We’ve been traveling across plains so much of late that…aah…aaahhh…so, aye…” Holo yawned. No doubt it would be time for her midday nap soon. Lawrence heard her rummage around for something—perhaps searching for a blanket.

  The field they were seeking was still far away, so Lawrence had some choice words for his traveling companion, who was venturing to take an early nap.

  “It’s not just forests, you know. There’s pleasure to be had on the plains, too.”

  “…Oh, aye?”

  “Long chats with one’s traveling companion, for one.”

  Simply traveling across a plain when the weather was good could turn into a sort of test of endurance. And even if it weren’t, sitting in the driver’s seat, holding the reins while Holo napped in the wagon bed, wasn’t any fun for Lawrence.

  Once he had finally ventured to speak his mind, the clever Holo seemed to realize what Lawrence was trying to say.

  She popped up and rested her chin on the back of the driver’s seat and looked up at Lawrence with mischief in her eyes. “I’m a wolf, after all. Sadly I’ve no interest in conversation without any meat to it.”

  It was a light jab, so Lawrence mildly returned it. “So you’re saying you want furious debate for dinner, then?”

  Holo curled her lip up. “Furious, nay. I would hope for something more passionate.” Her eyes were half-closed, and she rubbed the base of her ear against Lawrence’s arm. It was often her way of tricking him into letting his guard down by making him wonder if she was drunk.

  Lawrence decided to assume her ear was merely itchy.

  “Passionate? Oh, you mean the sort of talk that makes one’s face blush?”

  “Heh. Aye.”

  If Holo had been a simple cat or dog, a thorough head rubbing and a piece of jerky would placate her, but unfortunately she was a wolf, who would easily devour him if he gave her the chance.

  Lawrence raised his arm and slowly rested his elbow on Holo’s head. Holo soon growled her irritation and shot him a sharp glare.

  “Just thinking about how much wine you’ve drunk is enough to make my face turn red.”

  “…I haven’t had that much.”

  Holo’s face would remain unaffected by wine for quite a while, so her appearance was largely unchanged. But she still didn’t enjoy being made roundabout fun of, so she slid out from under Lawrence’s elbow and rubbed her head.

  “Make sure you save a bit for enjoying on the sunny field, eh?”

  “I said I did not drink that much,” said Holo sulkily, withdrawing to the wagon bed and flopping roughly over to the side.

  Lawrence got the feeling she was starting to become genuinely angry, so perhaps Holo really had been careful to spare Lawrence his share of the wine.

  He did trust her, but perhaps she didn’t enjoy being doubted even in jest. Lawrence turned around to apologize and was immediately met by her ready gaze.

  She’d been ready and waiting for him to turn around out of concern for her.

  “’Tis true, though I do enjoy idle conversation. And my very favorite sort is…”

  “…When you get to tease a poor traveling merchant?”

  “Hmm? Oh, aye, that’s nice as well.”

  The road continued to run through the forest, and Lawrence squinted ahead to see whether the field was approaching. He noticed that there seemed to be another road running alongside theirs, and a short distance ahead the two seemed to intersect.

  Lawrence shrugged off Holo’s words and reached for the map, looking down at it intently. “So what is your favorite sort of conversation?” he asked, looking back and forth between the map and the road and trying to see past the trees.

  Evidently the road Lawrence and Holo were currently on wasn’t the only one that crossed the forest—there were several others. And worse, they intersected each other in complicated ways.

  Given that, Lawrence wondered if it might not be prudent to turn around and leave.

  As he mulled it over, Lawrence felt eyes staring hard at the back of his neck, so he turned around.

  “…At the very least, I have no great love for this sort of conversation,” said an irritated Holo, her tail switching in agitation.

  For just a moment, Lawrence’s mind went white. Trifling conversations were similar to, albeit different from, perfunctory ones. Having gotten used to traveling alone, Lawrence had been careless.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, apologizing sincerely. “So, what is your favorite sort of conversation?” he asked again, which made Holo’s face turn instantly disbelieving.

  “Am I a child?”

  “Huh?”

  “A conversation has a certain flow, does it not? Do you suppose that by simply asking me again, I’ll just happily answer you and that will be that?”

  Immediately following Holo’s words, the wagon swayed dramatically as one of its wheels hit a tree root.<
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  Lawrence hastily looked ahead, then turned back around to see Holo. She lay prone atop the cargo, as though about to sleep. She was not facing him.

  “…”

  Awkwardly, Lawrence faced forward, putting his hand to his forehead. This situation was unlike anything he’d dealt with back when his only conversation partner had been his horse. He considered how best to apologize, but was certain that no matter what he said, he’d only dig himself deeper into the mud.

  Finally, he braced himself and spoke.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The same words he’d said a moment earlier. Yet—conversation did have a flow.

  “Hmph.” Her irritated snort was proof that she’d forgiven him. “So…when will we finally clear this forest?” The space between her words had probably been to put the wineskin to her lips. After all that, she still hadn’t revealed just what sort of idle conversation she preferred.

  “They say the forest spirits can create new paths through the woods—I don’t suppose Holo the Wisewolf has any such abilities?”

  “If this were a wheat field, it would not be impossible.”

  “Oh, really? Now, that I’d like to see.”

  “Perhaps if there’s an opportunity.” Holo’s tone was chilly, but if he was to object, it would only be cause for more retribution. Lawrence managed to choke back his retort.

  “Still, this forest is strange.” The wagon swayed as they crossed an intersecting path.

  “Strange in what way?”

  “There are a lot of paths. Too many even for lumber harvesting.” Lawrence wondered if they ought to turn back before they got lost.

  It was nearly midday, and once the sun passed its zenith, the shadows would shift.

  He remembered the path so far, more or less, but the shifting shadows would change the landmarks, making it that much easier to become lost.

  “…”

  “What’s the matter?” Holo interrupted Lawrence’s musings. “Are we about to be lost?” She smirked a malicious smirk.

  As a traveling merchant, Lawrence found himself irritated, even if this was a joke meant more as a friendly warning than anything else.

  “We’ve come all this way and I remember our route, so it’s fine.” Lawrence knew he was being obstinate.

  Whether or not Holo also knew that, she fell silent for a while, her tail swishing to and fro before she threw herself back atop the cargo.

  “Aye, well, you’re the lifelong traveler, so.” She retracted her opinion—it was almost as though she was apologizing for her unsolicited question.

  The wagon rattled along the road.

  They continued to intersect paths, which wove this way and that but never opened to the clearing.

  Time lazily passed by, and finally they found themselves at an intersection radiating paths in many directions.

  Lawrence stopped the horse and cast his gaze skyward. It was just past noon—the perfect time for the hoped-for nap on the grass. Which of course meant that the longer it took to find the meadow, the less pleasant the nap would be.

  Given the time necessary for the return trip, they would need to find the meadow very soon to make it worthwhile at all.

  But having come so far on this detour, turning back now without even a glimpse of the meadow would be the height of foolishness. More than anything, he was feeling foolish for having ignored Holo’s warning.

  “…”

  Lawrence sat in silent contemplation in the driver’s seat. The horse was stopped, and having him start walking again was the furthest thing from Lawrence’s mind.

  It was clear that the rational thing to do would be to turn around rather than continuing on. And yet if he suggested turning back here, there was no telling what Holo would say. He knew it was his pride talking, but some part of him resisted simply choking it down.

  Whether or not she was aware of Lawrence’s conflict, Holo’s tail wagged back and forth. It was an obvious provocation.

  Lawrence gripped the reins as though to continue onward, but then the realization hit him. What if he forged ahead only to become truly lost?

  “…”

  They would have to turn back. Then immediately after Lawrence came to his decision—

  “Hmm. Goodness, but you’re adorable,” said Holo from behind him, chin propped on the back of the driver’s seat. “I wonder how much worse ’twould be if you had ears and a tail like mine.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve never seen a male quite so transparent as you.”

  “What?” Lawrence retorted, a hint of irritation mixed into his voice, which made Holo sit up and bring her face closer. The quality of her smile changed as Lawrence couldn’t help but flinch away.

  “After kicking aside my warning, you can’t very well suggest we turn back, and yet continuing on could be dangerous. So, what to do?”

  Bull’s-eye.

  Lawrence looked away, which brought Holo’s still-grinning face even closer. “Your tiresome stubbornness is only too obvious.”

  Holo, the self-proclaimed wisewolf, had lived for centuries. Her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, which only heightened Lawrence’s desire to escape.

  But the driver’s seat was cramped.

  He faced Holo’s amber eyes, keen and penetrating like a fortune-teller’s.

  “And yet…” Holo then continued, her tone almost disappointingly gentle. She’d been close enough to devour him headfirst but suddenly pulled back.

  Unable to follow her rapidly changing demeanor, Lawrence could only stare vaguely at her as she sat atop the back of the driver’s seat.

  “And yet when I wonder why you’re so stubborn, I can hardly find it within myself to be angry.”

  From her perch atop the seat back, she was in a position to look down at Lawrence. It was the reverse of the usual situation, and Holo’s attitude was frustratingly high-and-mighty.

  “You’re trying to get the advantage of me, even if it’s a reach, aren’t you? You’re like a child. How can I be mad at a child?”

  If she’d been mocking him, then he might have had some recourse.

  But in trying to refute Holo, Lawrence had failed like a little boy. And she simply smiled down at him without rancor or excitement, like a benevolent elder sister.

  In a situation like this, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. And she’d been dead-on accurate, so there was nowhere to run.

  “Your problem is this,” Holo said conversationally as she hopped down to sit properly in the seat. Having done so, the difference in their heights meant that she now looked up at him. “You decide everything on a set of scales.”

  “…Scales?”

  “Aye. Which side is heavier, which is higher or lower. It’s no good, looking to that to the exclusion of all else. It might be right for a merchant, but…”

  A rustling sound arose as Holo reached back to take hold of the blanket in the wagon bed, then pulled it forward. Once she finished wrapping herself in it, she then lightly smacked Lawrence’s hand, which still held the reins.

  “Just how long do you plan on holding those reins for?”

  “…Huh? I mean, we’ll have to turn back here, so…,” said Lawrence guardedly, since he didn’t understand what Holo was getting at.

  Holo’s face turned immediately incredulous. “Honestly…It’s just as I said, is it not? What you need is a better instinct for a conversation’s flow.”

  It was true that she’d said as much. But what did that have to do with him taking up the reins? Lawrence started to wonder if she had again cast him into some elaborate trap—but then he realized his misapprehension. “Ah!”

  “Huh. So you’ve finally hit upon it, have you?”

  He had no retort. He had only to follow the thread of their conversation up until a moment ago, and it was simple. Considering the exchange he’d had with Holo just before they entered the forest, it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “
If you’d only done as much from the start—but no, you just had to work your way in deeper. It’s not my cleverness that makes it so simple for me to trip you up, but rather your foolishness.”

  Lawrence dropped the reins at her insistence, opening and closing his now-empty hands. Having had it pointed out to him, it was obvious, and yet he had never realized it.

  “So you’ve understood that there’s no need to seek this meadow in order to cheer me up, aye?” She flicked the blanket open with a flourish and adroitly wrapped it around both herself and Lawrence.

  That, too, had been a misunderstanding. What had Holo said she enjoyed about travel?

  “You mean your favorite sort of idle chatter?”

  “Aye. If you’d only thought to confirm that, not only would you not have need to make a meadow detour, you’d have been able to quite thoroughly cheer me up.” Holo’s tone was very amused.

  No doubt she was very amused. She had bested him, after all.

  “So, what is your favorite way to converse?” asked Lawrence. Immediately thereafter, his eye widened in surprise—Holo seemed neither angry nor exasperated. She neither scorned him nor mocked him. At Lawrence’s question, she seemed actually embarrassed.

  “Heh-heh…to be quite honest, I’d never be able to admit it if the conversation had not come to this place,” she said, looking down bashfully, her voice ticklish as she giggled to herself.

  If her favorite sort of conversation was indeed something so embarrassing, then this was surely the best time to admit it—she had the overwhelming advantage now.

  No matter what she said, it could be forgiven.

  “What I like best is…falling asleep while talking like this. Just drifting off to the sound of idle conversation…”

  She was so self-conscious at this last part that she looked away when she finished speaking. And it was true, falling asleep to conversation was not so very different from falling asleep to a lullaby.

  And now that Lawrence thought about it, this had happened before. Holo often drifted to sleep while they talked.