❖ JOURNEY INTO THE SEVENWOOD ❖ (C/Solo)

After acquiring his passport in Rose Garden, Fane wasted no time in returning to the Haunted Village with Papa and Little Jack to cross through the point of entry, and that time around he, fortunately, had no issues.

His time in Fiore was brief, but Fane did not miss it too much. He had only got to see its, perhaps, worst and most obscure landmarks after all. Because of his haste for Seven, he had only met a small handful of people who left little to no impression at all. Fane realized that he would probably never return to Fiore once he arrived back in his homeland, but also recalled the debts he was inclined to repay. Knowing this, returning to Fiore at a later date might've been part of his future, no matter how unlikely.

But this was all in the past and his present was his journey into the Sevenwood. The forest was thick, clean, and seemingly endless. The trees were so tall that you couldn't see the sky if you looked up, and yet light poured in from the atmosphere and through the groves of green. There was the pretty sound of running water everywhere he went and paths unmarked and marked that could be followed. It was a mystically atmospheric setting which Fane did not mind traversing through. The blonde-haired wanderer still did not like traveling alone for some reason and while the sylvan setting was comforting, he felt uncomfortable.

Ever since he crossed the port of entry from the Haunted Village, Fane did not stop walking into the depths of the Sevenwood. The two Jacks that helped him during his time in Fiore left him water and tidbits of food to eat for his travels, but all of his rations had disappeared the very day he departed from them. He hadn't eaten anything since coming down from Mt. Hakobe, so the thick slices of bacon, dozen boiled eggs, and loaves of sourbread seemed irresistible—and they were. This was only a day ago, and his hunger was ever-present.

This inconvenience never slowed Fane, however. He actually seemed more focused on reaching his destination than before his prevalent hunger. He was still raggedly dressed in a thin cloak and worn hiking boots. It was hardly going to suffice for what journey he was intending to make, but it was surely better than nothing, and ever since he resolved this, the thought never crossed his mind since.

Fane walked with purpose and looked as if he knew where he was going. Every step he took, hop he leapt, turn he turned—it all made one say, "This man knows where he is going!" And to some extent, this was true. Navigation was something he always had a particular affinity for, apparently, even though he never used it beyond navigating a city. Fane had never ventured out of Pergrande, so navigating places outside of Pergrande—and let alone outside of the city where his Lord was—was far different. He wasn't entirely sure why he knew this, as he couldn't recall it or instances where he ever used it. It was simply one of those things shrouded in the mystery of his memory, unfortunately. Still, despite the odds, he still had some idea of where he was headed.

He could feel himself getting closer to his homeland with each step and never really took the time to take in his surroundings. Any time Fane had observed his scenery was with the intent of searching for routes and pathways that seemed easier to traverse. So, that is precisely what he did. That was, until, he could hear something flapping. Something talking.

"Pickle-pee, pickle-pee!" something squeakily said. The noise was accompanied by the panicked flapping of wings one might associate with a grounded bird. It was enough for Fane to stop walking and look around, but he could see nothing. It actually made him feel rather bewildered, taking a finger and twisting it in his ear in hopes of the noise disappearing if, in fact, he was hearing things wrong. After that, he began to walk again, but the noise resurfaced the instant he moved.

"No! No! Pickle-pee, pickle-pee! Up! Up!" the squeaky voice pleaded again. This time, Fane twisted around, searching for the voice with acute bewilderment and wariness.

"Who's there? Come out, now. Don't play these sorts of games!" Fane demanded with an excited anxiousness in his undertones. Abruptly, the flapping became ceaseless and louder.

"Up, up, Pickle-pee! Up!"

"What?" Fane paused, looking up to find something unexpected. Lo and behold, there was someone there! But not just anyone, in fact. It was a crow hanging upside down, staring at the blonde-haired wanderer with its black, beady eyes. It appeared to be entangled by some thin vines, of sorts, hanging from a tall tree's branch.

Fane stared back at it with an equally wide-eyed expression.
"Did this crow just talk or have I gone loony?" he sputtered to himself to which the crow would respond.

"Yes, yes! Pickle-pee, I is stuck! Please help me, pickle-pee!" the crow pleaded again. Fane, realistically, stared at the bird with visible bewilderment still. His eyes remained wide and his voice silent. He supposed that, yes, it was indeed a talking crow, but he hadn't been traveling alone so much that his mind would've deteriorated to such a degree, that is.

"Ah, yes. . . I suppose you are in quite the fix, aren't you?" Fane said, almost at a loss for words. He began to revolve around the crow, examining the plants that bound him with his fingers stroking his beardless chin amidst his contemplation. "How did you find yourself in this fix, huh?" Fane inquired, suddenly feeling foolish for asking a crow such a thing.

The crow stopped flapping its wing in its panic and let itself hang there in shame. "Oh, oh. Yes, yes. . ." it began solemnly, "I was running from Popo-ro. . . I got stuck. . ." the crow admitted, the shame strangely visible on its expression.

Fane, still somewhat at a loss for words, nodded slowly. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant by popo-ro or pickle-pee, but he felt compelled to say something. "I. . . see." He smiled his friendly smile again and started for the tree the branch was attached to. When he got there, he stared up his trunk as if sizing it up in preparation for something. "Well, we'd ought not keep you hanging there for much longer. That little head of yours might start to throb if we do." Fane scoffed innocently. The crow, however, only flapped its wings impatiently instead of scoffing with him, which was to be expected. After all, it was the one hanging and not Fane.

Fane climbed the tree only high enough to reach for the vine entangling the crow, grabbing it by the nails of his finger to pull it back into a far more comfortable distance. With one arm wrapped about the trunk and the other attached to the vine, he worked diligently to free the pitiful creature from its trap. Fane pulled and tugged at the vine until it finally ripped apart, leaving the crow to fall onto the ground in brief panic. Fane watched all of this unfold with a look of mild amusement and inquisitiveness in his eyes. He stared at the crow from up high on the tree trunk, suppressing his snorts.

"Are you alright?!" Fane shouted from above, sliding down from the trunk and walking over to the crow with minimal haste. He knelt down over it and poked its belly, which was facing right-side-up. It was completely still. "Did you die? Did that much kill you, now?" he murmured to both himself and the crow but didn't seem too shocked if this was the reality of the situation. At most, he looked disappointed. But, just as he asked himself that question and silence overcame the both of them, the crow twitched and twitched until it sprung to life and hopped on its legs!

In one glorious and triumphant motion, the crow spread its wings and legs. "Yes! Yes! I am free!" the crow hollered, "I am saved! Pickle-pee has saved me!"

Fane clapped quizzically, realizing that the crow was probably referring to him as pickle-pee this entire time. He was amused by it and clapped thoughtlessly. "It looks to have done the trick. You look happy and healthy!"

The crow nodded and looked over to Fane with its beady stare. "Yes, yes, pickle-pee! I am much indebted to pickle-pee! I owe my life to pickle-pee! I must repay. . ."

Fane slowly began to stop clapping and simply stared at the crow with a fawning look in his eyes. His expression was wide and smiling. "It's no trouble, really—but I must be on my way, so do be more cautious in your own travels, would you? Farewell and safe travels." Fane suggested as he began to stand up. The crow, however, hollered something.

"I will repay with my life! I will accompany pickle-pee on their travels, yes I will!" the crow followed behind him.

Fane paused and looked back at the crow, stunned. "Pardon?"