Over the Eternal Garden Wall and Into the Unknown

Chapter 18: Onward

Chapter 18: Onward

It wasn't until morning that they were able to leave. The blizzard had lasted the entire night, its windy fury attacking the mill-house until Wirt woke up the next day. Mounds of snow were left behind, the blankets of crunchy white proving to be quite the terrain, along with a frozen river that circled the premises, the covering on its surface so thick that it could carry an adult with ease. The trees past the clearing seemed bulked down with the added weight, ice and millions of snowflakes on the verge of making branches snap off completely. The winter air was frigid and painful to breathe, much less promising than the hints of spring that had ended the storms before. Overall, the teen could feel the pressure of the journey sitting on his shoulders, wariness taking over his senses as he stood at the doorway and faced the family that had taken care of them all for so long.

"Okay, you are free to go," Beatrice's mother said, scanning the trio and their frog with a slightly reluctant visage. "Just promise me you'll be back before the season becomes too harsh and that you will find a proper place to sleep each night. We really wouldn't want you to get sick or lost in the cold. And take some money with you."

The woman pulled out a few silver and bronze coins, handing them to her daughter. Beatrice smiled gratefully, depositing them in her sack, which was dry and filled with better, more sustainable supplies. This time they would have to be prepared for anything.

"Goodbye, Beatrice's mom!" Greg beamed, waving a hand with joy. "We're gonna really, really, really miss you! And Gideon and Lawrence and Caroline and Polly and Victor and Nancy and Thomas and -"

"Alright, Greg. We get it," Beatrice snapped, irritated.

The boy glanced over, seemingly unhurt by the rude comment. "Oh." He then continued to murmur names under his breath, the long list becoming an entertaining sing-song for him. Beatrice only frowned.

After another quick farewell, the group took off into the forest, on a new path to their destination. But to Wirt it felt like the journey had only just begun.

o-o-o-o

"Hey, is anyone else hungry? Besides me?" Wirt asked, walking alongside his companions as they traveled on a frost-bound dirt road. Greg continued along, chirping his tune from earlier and Beatrice simply gazed ahead, quiet. "So . . . uh, no?"

The brown-haired teen made a face, doing his best to cope with his empty stomach. His friend's sack of food was becoming wildly tempting but he ignored his impulses. It was best not to slow the group down. Or annoy them.

A few moments of awkwardly silent traveling and his belly growled loudly, an embarrassed shade of red passing over his cheeks. Beatrice didn't seem to care but Greg giggled, grinning. Wirt just kept going, trying hard not to react when the noise came again, more urgent. The redhead beside the teen cast him a tired glance, her posture stiff.

"Wirt . . ." she groaned. "You are such a pushover."

"I-I'm sorry?" he attempted, rubbing the back of his collared neck.

The former bluebird shook her head in disapproval, causing Greg's brother to shrug uncomfortably. Beatrice's expression showed that it was a lost cause and she turned back to the road.

Wirt blinked, unsure of what she was getting at. I really don't understand anything right now. What was that about? And . . . I'm still hungry. Another growl reverberated through the forest, proving the gnome-dressed boy to be absolutely famished. It made him miserable.

"Beatrice! Beatrice!" Greg called, shaking the girl's arm with his hand. "I'm really super hungry! So is Jason Funderburker! Let's eat!"

The older boy watched, astonished, as Beatrice smiled and stopped, opening the sack up and handing the seven year-old a waffle and a small potato. She then got some for herself, the both of them setting down to eat on a fallen log.

"Um, don't I get to eat?" he said to no avail. "O-okay . . . I'll just stand here. And starve . . ."

"Pushover," Beatrice mumbled, that same disapproving tone in her voice.

Wirt sighed, feeling doleful.

"Hey! Don't be sad, Wirt! Have some food! Food always cheers me up when I'm blue!" the teen's younger brother offered, gesturing to the sack.

"I can just get some?" he responded, shocked when Beatrice nodded.

"Yup. Stop being a pushover, Wirt."

The fifteen year-old male groaned, facepalming. How did I not see that coming?

o-o-o-o

Appetites now satisfied, the group continued forth, trekking through the slow-melting mush that appeared to encompass every inch of the area. The bright sun shone its rays from high above, basking them and the rest of the world in a dazzling light despite the lingering chill in the air. It was, in fact, a beautiful day, as it was every time the storms ended.

I wonder if we'll ever be freed from the shackles of the weather, no longer having to be heartlessly teased by the creeping sun, Wirt lamented to himself, the single line of poetry calming him as he walked around a bend in the length of trees, the path twisting to reveal an open pasture filled with the remains of several harvested plantations.

Wooden, worn fences edged each plowed patch of ground and scattered leaves, a few pieces of broken pumpkin shells and empty corn husks littered the newly unburdened plain. Off in the distance was a small town, its shabby and warm atmosphere filling the travelers with a soft sense of belonging and, at the same time, unease.

"Pottsfield," Wirt breathed, stepping forward to stop at the edge of the treeline. "It seems . . . nostalgic, somehow."

His eyes floated across the land, observing the scene while still being distant. Memories and hopes filled his mind to the brim, the icy and damp landscape making the future seem unpredictable. The teen could feel the pleasantness of the afternoon through his lonesome daze, breaking his thoughts away from the cold for at least a while.

Beside him, Greg looked at his brother curiously. "What does 'nostalgic' mean?"

Wirt glanced over, attempting to answer, "It means -"

"- that we're going home together." Beatrice finished for him.

Greg grinned back at her, happy with the answer. "And that's a rock fact!"

The child beamed, holding up his painted stone while Jason Funderburker ribbited contentedly from on top of his kettle. The two teenagers chuckled at his cheerful antics and the redhead made her way over to meet them, standing next to the brothers at the top of the hill.

Placing her palm on the seven year-old's shoulder, Beatrice met Wirt's gaze, a smile playing on her lips as she spoke. "You ready to rejoin civilization, dork?"

The fake gnome returned the expression, a calm joy overtaking him. "I'm ready when you are, Beatrice."

"Yeah! Let's go and see the vegetable people!" Greg exclaimed, Jason croaking along to his ecstatic input.

Upbeat and jubilant to be on their way, the group headed down the steady slope towards the town. They moved mirthfully, eager to get there, their friendship shining through the strange emptiness that Pottsfield possessed. In a matter of moments their trip would come to a pause, wistful hearts appeased by the grander day.

It was time that they arrived.