Discovery Writing #2: Wioh

[This quick chapter is another exercise to help me get to know one of the characters for my eventual novel, Wioh. He is the father of the main protagonist and I wanted to learn how to illustrate his character as a father, husband, and budding spiritual figure. I feel like I know him a bit better, so I hope you enjoy his introduction as well!]

The sun was beginning to set in the west as Wioh watched his toddling son inspect a crack in the grey earth nearby. There were lots of cracks out here in the Western Wastes, often stretching all the way to the horizon. A desolate and dry comparison to the swamp just to the east that they called home. Even though there wasn’t much to see out here on the surface, Wioh’s young son Wic had already learned one of the secrets to this place.

Life always seemed to find its way into the cracks of things. Moss grew in the seams of turtle shells in the swamps. Ferns could grow in the crooks of tree branches. And here in the wastes, you could always find life in the cracks of the earth. This time Wic had found some pill bugs to play with – poking them to ball up and then rolling them around with both hands as Wioh sat on a lichen covered rock nearby. Dry earth and stones filling the open world around them.

Wic wasn’t truly talking yet. Just a word here or there like “Da!” and “fish!” but each little sound cut to Wioh’s soul like the sun through fog. Now that he thought of it, nothing had ever made him happier than the sound of his son’s voice. His partner, Melas, knew this and agreed. Certainly they loved each other deeply. But everything changes when you have children. Even love. And nothing can compare to meeting that new little person you have somehow known your whole life.

Wioh certainly felt like a part of him had been filled having Wic in his life now. But on days like this, out Wayfaring in the Western Wastes, new questions echoed in him that made him feel a new kind of hollow as well.

“When did this all start?” was particularly loud in his mind after the birth of his son.

All living things had mothers and fathers as one kind of beginning, but what about the first? If so, where did those mother’s and father’s come from? Wioh had watched new kinds of reeds start showing up in the swamp and spread. Was it like that? Was life always moving and the only new things were the places it ended up?

Before, Aethlings had lived between the cracks the Big Ones left in their homes. The “crawl space” some called it. Others lived in “basements” or “cellars”. Taking sugar, bits of food. Just about everything they needed came from scraps from the Big Ones. They were very good about never being noticed.

“Now we live off the land.” Wioh thought, continuing to watch Wic. “And Wayfare for new places. Are we like the reeds in the swamp? Our beginnings only marked by new homes?” his eyes drifting towards the setting sun.

It all just didn’t seem to be enough. There simply had to be stories before living with the Big Ones.

Wioh’s thoughts were cut off by a high pitched squeal.

Spinning, and cursing the one second he took his eyes off Wic, Wioh found that one of the pill bugs had opened.

Apparently no longer threatened by the pokes of a toddler, the creature had begun to climb up Wic with its multitudinous legs – tickling his son into a fury of squeals and giggles as it made its way to the middle of his back.

Grinning, Wioh sauntered over to help his son, lest he have to wash his pants when they got home.

“Woah there creature! You better not eat my boy! He’s brand new, pretty much, and I don’t want his mother knowing I let a beast maul him while I wasn’t looking!” Wioh said through his son’s breathless mirth.

Pulling the creature off turned out to be too much work with a squirming tickled toddler, so Wioh instead gave it a big flick on the snout causing it to curl up again and relent its ruthless assault.

“Did you wee yourself Wi thing?” Wioh said scooping Wic up.

To which his son replied with a quick but clearly negative “nuh!”

Amused, Wioh walked his son back over to the ball shaped bug and crouched down, Wic on his bent knee.

“This time when it uncurls, watch the legs.” Wioh said to his son. And waited.

“Ah, there it goes! See how many there are? Does a swamp hopper have that many legs?” Wioh asked Wic as the child struggled to get free to play again.

“Nuh!” Wic said.

“No they don’t! That’s right.” Wioh confirmed, grinning as he set his son loose to get closer.

“Do the crabs Bostoc bring from the big water have that many legs? Wioh asked again.

“Nuh!” Wic said, harder this time.

“Oh, I see. How about me? Do I have that many legs?” Wioh asked a final time.

“Da!” Wic said lighting up at his father’s joke. Even toddlers can count legs.

“That’s right Wic, you are so smart.” Wioh said endearingly. “The only creatures I know with legs like these creatures are the mud bugs Sud brings from the south. You think they’re cousins?”

By now Wic was no longer listening, engrossed by a new crack.

“Maybe they are cousins.” Wioh’s thoughts continued now that the crisis was averted. “I wonder if that makes us and the Big Ones cousins. We have the same number of legs, and eyes, and the same hair. We even eat the same things. If we are cousins though… how did they get so big!?

With the last of the light disappearing, Wioh began gathering their things for the trip home. No camping over night for Wic yet. That would be next season. So after a scooping of the packs, collection of his son, and a call of nature for them both. It was time to head homeward. The setting son at their backs lighting the horizon into a band of molten gold.

Wic was still small enough to fit in the pack Wioh made to carry him on his back, but he was indeed getting heavier. So, as they walked, Wic would alternate between riding and walking as the dry cracked earth slowly changed into marshy grass land. Things always slowed when Wic was walking because he would stop at anything new he saw on the way. Chattering his interest in half understandable syllables to his father. He did this when riding in the pack as well, but those times Wioh could keep walking as he explained the world around them.

This went on until they reached the swamp and it was full and proper dark. Their way lit by small community torches that lined the raised walkways of the soggy settlement. These torches were always small and low to the ground to keep the community from being noticed from a distance, but provided ample light to mark the edges of pathways in the dark, otherwise treacherous, swamp. When they finally made it to their home of woven and insulated reeds, it didn’t have a single lit light to be seen.

“I guess your ahma is still off doing important things tonight Wic.” Wioh said, not able to hide the disappointment from his voice.

Melas was easily the most important person in the community, so nights like this were especially common. She was probably out delegating volunteer maintenance jobs, or helping Micha and Sha with their new young one Pennin. Melas had seen every new Aethling come into this world since she came of age and, over time, had become a bit of a surrogate parent to an entire generation. When Wioh fell in love with her so many seasons ago, he had no idea he would end up so close to such importance. He never wanted to end up in his partner’s position, but he was very proud of her none the less.

Falling into old habit, Wioh set Wic to playing around the Urun as he began making dinner. A few white roots, some fish oil to fry them in, leaves and grasses from Beia. All tossed into Wioh’s treasured metal pot hanging over a fire in the center of the Urun. The pot might have been a button from one of the big ones, or the curved metal part of some machine. Wioh didn’t know, but his cooking had vastly improved after finding it in the wastes that special day.

“Fish!” Wic’s voice piped up from the corner of the Urun. He had already surrounded himself with all the seeds and sticks he liked to use for toys. All little favorite things he found outside and just had to bring home with him as all children do.

“No Wi thing.” Wioh answered. “Just smells like it from the oil. I know fish is your favorite.”

“Fish!” Wic said again, this time with disdain. Wioh was amazed at how much this little person could communicate at so young, but there it was.

“We’ll have fish soon. You’ll have to be patient tonight.” Was all Wioh could say, though it wouldn’t do much. It was looking like tonight’s dinner would be a bit of a struggle to get his son to eat. Oh well, part of the routine.

Wic was already well asleep by the time Melas finally made it home, the sound of her setting down her packs, alerting Wioh to her return as he considered some old maps by the fire. As she looked from her things to greet him, other invisible burdens seemed to drop from her shoulders. Her work always made her face seem older than she was but it also made her look so strong. Concerned attention brought lines to her eyes that otherwise weren’t there. Pride in her help made her stand taller than the inches she had. Wioh even was starting to notice a grey hair here and there at her temples. It only made him adore her more.

“Hello my dear one.”Mela’s rich alto voice greeted as he made his way over to kiss her. A simple act he looked forward to every day. “How was it Wayfaring with Wic today?”

“He was mauled by a pill bug and successfully did not wet himself in the process.” Wioh said with a joking pride.

“True progress!” Melas replied eyeing Wic in his small bed. Her eyes growing deep and distant the longer she stared.

“Pennin is a healthy baby girl.” Melas continued after a pause, her eyes unmoving. “I was there checking on her as my last errand tonight. I think she has made it through the woods after being born yellow. You were right that some sunny time away from the swamp would help. How did you know?”

“Well,” Wioh replied as he began to scrape some saved food from the pot for her, “Most plants I have seen that go yellow either have too much water, or not enough sun. I figured getting out of this foggy swamp might cover both issues. I am glad Beia let them follow her up North for a time. Doubly glad it worked.”

Melas’ gaze remained distant as she ate her late dinner, but she sat down close enough to press her back against Wioh for support. Eating quietly and watching her son sleep.

“Do you know if we are related to the Big Ones Melas?” Wioh said as he stared into the fire.

“Why do you ask? They certainly never treated us like relatives if the stories are right.” Melas replied through a mouth full of food. Something she would never do in public.

“I suppose,” Wioh went on, “but those stories don’t say anything about how we ended up living with them in the first place. They say they were rude and mean. That they would evict us like rats if they found us. But what about before? Did we used to live in harmony, or were we nomads like this, but before? It seems like we should have answers to such important questions.”

“I think we did.” Melas said turning to look Wioh in the eyes. “People around the Center. They all make up things to tell their children when they ask. ‘Oh, we found you when we cut open a reed one day’ or ‘one raindrop in a million has a baby Aethling in it, we just caught the right one when you were born’. Things like that. Seems to me that if babies have been asking the question forever, we have had answers forever.”

“What will we tell Wic when he is old enough to ask?” Wioh asked, holding her gaze.

Melas only turned to look again at her son, silent.

“I know you value truth Melas. Just like me. Your truth guides our people now that we have settled. It is right, and your success makes it true. The longer we stay here, the more I think people might start to wonder about such things. The more reliable the food, the more people start to think about other things.”

“That’s the truth.” Melas replied. Her deadpan tone pulling Wioh into a full grin.

“Well at least we know where Wic came from.” Wioh replied pulling Melas close now that she was done with her food. “That’s a start I can work with.”