On the outskirts of the looming forest sits a building, just off the road. A path ventures from the main vein, leading up to the steps of the porch. Two-tiered and wooden, its four windows watch the road like unblinking eyes. The chimney lets loose a stream of smoke. Save for the sign sitting out front, it looks like a cozy cottage for a forest-dwelling family. But the sign reading Aloysius’s Post alludes to the wares within.
“Let’s stop for supplies,” I suggest, to which Max agrees. We pull off the road and slow our horses until we arrive at the hitching post out front. Nana holds my hand again, the warmth nearly gone.
On the porch, lined down the front of the building, is a row of rocking chairs. Each is its own hue of brown, ranging from deep mahogany to a polished pine. In the one nearest the door sits a large toy bear. The size of a man and the gut of spoiled royalty, its stitched smile welcomes us. The brown fur almost looks genuine, as if it were made from a real bear pelt. Everything else, from its marble eyes to its soft fake claws, is felt.
A bell rings over our heads as we enter and look around with slow footsteps. The shop is quiet and empty. For a moment, I consider how easy it would be for someone with ill intent to steal from this place. I stow the thought away; theft is not on my to-do list.
A rush of footsteps comes from up above. They hurry from a room upstairs and then down a staircase. The runner slows to a halt as he passes through a doorway, out of breath. An older man, old enough to be my father, sports a pleasant and welcoming smile as he catches his breath. Long dark blond hair hangs past his shoulders, though the top of his crown runs bare. A beard, full and brown, covers his thick cheeks and strong chin. Seemingly a meek merchant, he wears only plain clothes. Can’t imagine the need to dress up for customers at the edge of the wood. Judging by his merchandise, I’d venture to guess his primary clientele are forest dwellers or travelers. Few highborn folk to be found here. No one to impress.
“Good day, lads and lady,” he says once his heart has slowed some. He takes his place behind the counter, various knick-knacks spread out on the top. “Pardon me for the inattentiveness. Wasn’t expecting customers this afternoon. I am the eponymous Aloysius, and welcome to my little shop! Please feel free to browse the items we have available today. If you have any questions, just let me know.”
On the wall behind the man hangs bows, quivers, and assorted tools. The fireplace burns to our left, filling the store with its warmth. Folded blankets sit on long tables, each a different pattern and color but all thick. Some are made of wool, others yarn. Bundles of firewood lay near the crackling logs, as well as other camping items like tarps and stakes.
Making our way to the other side of the store, we find racks of food. Collected into jars is a variety of jerky and nuts, as well as baskets of fruits. Next to these stands a tall case with several shelves, each holding a different selection of clothes. Two mannequins pose there as well. The feminine one models an elegant dress, the fabric a silky white. A pale blue lace takes over for the stomach, intricate designs sewn there. Inside the long sleeves is another layer of silk, a slightly darker shade of blue than that of the lace. Its skirt runs long and hovers not even an inch over the mannequin’s base. The other mannequin, with broad shoulders and a masculine frame, displays a fine three-piece suit. The jacket and trousers bear the colors of an active feasting pyre, the vest a lighter yellow, and the cravat a rich red. Fit for a royal consort or perhaps a prominent bard, but definitely not for me. Max, I’m sure, would find himself ghastly in it. Too fancy for our ilk. Nana’s hand leaves mine as she stands before the featureless and fabricated beings.
“Wow,” she breathes, thin fingers caressing the material.
“You have good taste, madam,” Aloysius remarks. “My wife made that. Makes all the clothing we sell. Never seen someone master the sewing needles quite like she has.”
“How much for it?” Max asks, a jar of jerky and a few apples in his hands.
“Let me check with the missus,” Aloysius says, disappearing through the doorway. His footsteps, less frantic now, fade with the distance.
“We can’t afford it,” I whisper to Max.
“Bullshit we can’t.” He takes a bite of an apple, the crisp sound riling my stomach with a soft hunger. “We’ve got plenty of coin left for this gig. And besides, she really likes it! How can you say no to that face?”
Nana looks to me then, eyebrows high and scrunched as her pleading mouth hangs agape. Like a desperate puppy aching for scraps, a child not wanting to say goodbye to a playdate, an elder longing for a taste of nostalgia. A pity warms my icy heart and loosens my vice grip on our coin purse.
“If it isn’t too expensive, okay,” I relent with a defeated sigh.
Max gives a quiet sound of victory, accompanied by a swelling smile. Nana’s downturned expression phases to glee as well. She steps over and wraps her arms around me in a hug, some of that warmth returning.
“But that’s our limit to extravagance until we get the second payment,” I shoot to Max, his grin refusing to diminish at the demand. “No ladies, no high-end booze, no shiny things.”
“Deal,” he says. “You’re going to look so good in that dress, Nana.”
“Pretty,” she croaks happily.
Aloysius returns a moment later, tailed by a tall and thin woman. Dark hair is tied up into a ponytail at the back of her crown. Like her husband, she wears a simple dress of deep brown and crimson that makes her sallow skin seem lighter. Big eyes, faded emeralds, sparkle in the sunlight. An elf maiden, likely raised in the very woods behind her home. Though it is none of my business, and chivalry dictates it is impolite to ask, my curiosity regarding her age lingers. Is Aloysius her first husband? How many lifetimes is she expecting to see once he has gone to bask in the eternal garden of his particular deity?
“Gesine, these folks were interested in the Phoenix dress,” Aloysius says to her, looking up to meet her gaze.
“Nana here is just so smitten by it,” Max tells her.
The elf steps forward, long arms and long fingers stretching out to feel the silk arms of the dress. She looks it over for a moment, her eyes finding Nana then. Something akin to recognition sparks there, and her thin lips spread into a small smirk.
“When I was a little girl,” she says, her voice cool and even as she looks to each of us, “my elders would tell us children stories of the powerful creatures that lived in the Everglow Wood. Some benevolent, some not so. My favorites were that of the great Phoenixes. The size of a man, but covered in beautiful feathers, they reigned over the kingdom of birds. I caught a glimpse of them once whilst strolling through the trees. I remember one had been the color of fire, but the other a bright white. They took flight when they noticed me. When I was older and took up tailoring as a profession, I designed these pieces to honor those magnificent beings. No one has shown much interest in them; we mostly only see hunters come through here, and they rarely find themselves in occasions that require such luxury.”
The emeralds linger over Nana again, a knowingness brimming on her lips. Perhaps she has met the old woman before? Nana angles her eyes up to her, the smile shrinking as she reaches a hand out to Gesine’s face. The wrinkled thing holds the elven cheek as she leans down for the contact. A flicker of something lights in her vacant stare, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.
“Pretty,” Nana says again, softer this time.
“As are you, dear,” Gesine returns.
“So how much for the dress?” Max interjects, his anticipation showing.
“I cannot sell it to you as an individual piece,” she says to him. “The suit and dress, much like the Phoenixes themselves, are mated for life. To buy one, you must buy the other as well. I am willing to go as low as three hundred.”
The airy groan that escapes me is more audible than I intend. Jades cast a darkness upon my oceans. A shameful embarrassment breeds in those waters, fighting to break away from the green gaze.
“I apologize if this is dissatisfactory,” she says with a gentle yet scolding tongue, “but I will not falter on this stance. The artwork is too important.”
“I meant no offense,” I tell her, apologetic. “I’m just trying to make sure we still have some money for the rest of our journey. We likely still have a couple days ahead of us to get Nana home, and buying these clothes would set us back quite a bit.”
She looks me over for a long moment, eyes narrow and lips pursed. Nana’s hand falls back to her side in a slow descent, a sad look taking over. Even Max shoots me a glare. Aloysius, on the other hand, stays out of the little quarrel by checking something behind the counter.
“Two hundred,” Gesine offers, “but you make a delivery for me on your way through Everglow Wood.”
“Depends on the package,” I rebut.
“There’s a family who ordered new clothes for an upcoming dinner party,” Gesine says.
“Lovely folk,” Aloysius chimes in from the counter. “Got four wee ones.”
“They live in a cabin just north of here called Pelle’s Hut,” she says. “They supply us with our food products, and we send them whatever they may need. They don’t venture down here that often, though. They tend to stay in their area most of the time.
“But they’re very friendly people,” Aloysius adds.
“Normally we would go ourselves or send a courier, but you’ll do. We can even throw in a couple of saddlebags for you if your horses do not have any,” she finishes.
Looking to Max, he gives a small shrug that says, “Might as well.” I nod to the elven woman. With a gentle and precise wave of her hand, the dress lifts off from the mannequin and lands in a neatly folded pile in her hands. She smiles once more to Nana, who returns it. A gentle hand rests on the elder’s shoulder (though, to be fair, there’s no telling Gesine’s age) and the two disappear through the doorway.
“Well,” Aloysius says to clear the silent air, “is there anything I can help you gentlemen with? Anything in my stock you need bagged up for your venture into the Wood?”
“How much do we have left?” I ask Max with a worried brow.
“Not much,” he groans after examining his coin pouch. “Enough for some supplies, maybe, but there wouldn’t be much left for extracurriculars.”
“That family,” I turn to the shopkeep, “do you think they would allow us to stay the night? In case we cannot afford one of your tents.”
“Hm,” he muses for a moment. “Not sure. Like I said, they’re nice people. But I’m not sure how far that niceness stretches. Couldn’t hurt to ask them, I guess.”
“How much do you charge for your camping supplies?” Max asks, venturing back to that side of the room. “Nothing here is marked.”
“Depends on the quantity you buy, but mostly on the quality of the buyer,” the man says with a small but sly grin. “If a customer is rude or if I just don’t like em, I charge more. If they’re good folk, the price is much more fair.”
“And what kind of customers are we?” I ask, a coyness playing in my own smirk.
“That’s the question, ain’t it?” he chuckles. “What all are you needing?”
“At least a couple of blankets,” I estimate. “Plus some food for the road.”
“Should we get a bow and a quiver?” Max asks, eying the ones hanging behind Aloysius. My confused, curious look catches him off guard. “In case we run out of jerky.”
“We’ll add it for shits and giggles,” I shrug. “That should be it; we tend to travel light.”
“Okay,” Aloysius says, crunching numbers in his head. He counts on his fingers for a moment, mumbling to himself. The figure adds up, lighting a satisfied smile on his face. “All of that together, I could do for five gold.”
“Sold,” Max and I say together with matching surprise.
Soft footsteps return. Through the doorway comes Gesine, a look of pride glowing on her smiling cheeks. She waits for all three of us to notice her. As soon as the three pairs of eyes are on her, she moves like a flowing river to the side. That graceful, natural beauty reveals the shorter form waiting behind. The dress had seemed longer on the mannequin, or perhaps Nana stood a little taller now that she was draped in elegance. The silk hangs loose on her frame, but such fitting makes neither the dress nor the old woman less magnificent. Though her eyes remain as white as the gorgeous garment, a clear exultant and proud light shines there. They hold a hint of some hue bordering on yellow, but it could be a trick of the light. Her talon-like fingers are uncurled, straight and relaxed. Her posture is straighter as well, lending to her taller look. Even her hair, while it still hangs in thin silver strands, looks a little fuller, thicker. A whisper of orange plays there, but like her eyes I can’t quite tell if it is real or perhaps just firelight.
“Aren’t you glad we didn’t pass on it now?” Max smiles to me.
“You look amazing, Nana,” I say to her. “Do you like the dress?”
“Pretty,” she breathes, her mouth stretching at the corners and showing off the few remaining teeth.
“Very pretty indeed,” Gesine adds, placing a soft hand on Nana’s shoulder. She looks between Max and I then, a hopefulness growing. “And which of you would like the other piece?”
Our eyes argue for a long, silent moment. We hurl insults back and forth. We implore that the other was destined for such gaudy attire. We encourage each other to be the bigger man and adorn the orange garb. Yet we remain at a standstill, an impasse. Neither of us is willing to back down and accept the suit. We break away from each other and find the elven woman again.
“We’ll wear it later,” I decide. “Don’t wanna get it all messy on the road.”
I almost expect that light in her eyes to dull a little, yet it remains bright. She nods once, her hand waving in the air again. The suit unbuttons and flies off of the male mannequin, and in the air it folds itself into a neat pile. With her other hand she summons a leather bag, a small and simple satchel with a shoulder strap. Its flap opens and the clothes slide inside. The bag settles into Gesine’s palms. She closes it, runs a caring hand over the leather, and offers it to us. Max accepts it and wears it across his back.
“Be safe as you travel through the Everglow Wood, young sirs,” she says, gracious. “Take good care of your mother here.”
“We will, thank you,” I say in return.
Tyler Gohde 
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