Read Online A Path of Oak and Ash by M.P. Reeves - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M.P. Reeves
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see what awaited.
He was not disappointed.
The room beyond could only be described as a great room. Not because of a huge television or fancy couches, but because it was simply a great room. The ceiling was easily thirty foot high yet there was no feeling of vertigo looking up. The space to the roof was not a vacant expanse. Tree branches jutted out from walls, crossing the room and sprouting out before exiting on the far side. The wooden walls themselves had been painted, every inch a flowing scene in fall colors. Painted deer danced in the sky, swirls of birds flocked above them, dark charcoal runes lined the floor like rock under the grass flicked with flowers etched atop them. The width of the space was probably twenty five to thirty feet, towards the back of the room a thick winding trunk had been etched into a set of stairs that spiraled up a floor and apparently down one as well.
“Almost as breathtaking as the view.” Erik’s voice startled him, his uncle seated at a carved table to his right.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I appreciate this place more every time I have to wander in your concrete caves.”
“Did you paint all this?” Carrick gestured to the wall.
“Only a small piece, the high birds on the left wall are mine. The shoddy ones towards the top. I never was much of an artist but mother insisted I place my calling in our family line.”
Carrick nodded, continuing to marvel in the room. The carved embroidered seating, flanking the mantle-how they managed to burn wood within wood was beyond him-the animal hide rugs and the books upon books in cases.
“Sit down already, you’ll have all day to wander about wide eyed.” Somewhere high above on the branches he heard a flutter of wings and a thick caw. The kind Arcedes made.
With a nod of his head he walked over to the dining table, a long piece of oak that could seat eight. In a bowl on top of the wood grain were chopped greens. Different colors and textures drenched in a translucent brown sauce. A pile of empty bowls and some dark metal cutlery of to the side.
The chair made no noise as he pulled it out across the wood floor, the plush purple seat cushion surprisingly comfortable.
“Eat.” Erik pushed a bowl towards him.
Carrick quickly complied, filling the small tan pottery dish with an ample helping. Picking up the iron fork he took a bite, marveling at the combination of textures and flavors on his palate. It was salty with a hint of sweetness, a bit of mild heat from the peppers but not enough to distract from the taste. “This is delicious! I’ve never had a salad that tasted so fresh.”
“We do not consume the way you humans do. Our foods are not processed, mass produced or grown from lab seedlings. We eat only the bounty of the world as it is.”
“So you don’t actually cook anything?” Everything in the bowl looked garden fresh.
“No, we cook. The world offers us many spices and lovely coloring without the need for artificial flavors and dyes.”
“How does that work when you’re in the human world?”
“If it had a face, if it grew from the earth, you can eat it.”
“So you eat meat?”
Erik kicked up an eyebrow. “You find that surprising?”
“Well yeah, you’re all eco-whatever. I figured meat would be taboo.”
“We are one with the earth not above her. We have canines akin to the bear and the wolf. Our ingestion of meat keeps populations in balance.”
“How does your bird feel about that?” Carrick had a hard time picturing Arcedes watching him eating chicken.
“Arcedes ingests meat. Why would she feel one way or the other about it?” On cue, there was a trill of agreement from somewhere in the great room.
“Fair enough.” Carrick directed his response at the sound rather than his uncle. While Carrick dished up a second bowl of food, washed down with a glass of water, Erik eyed him
He was not disappointed.
The room beyond could only be described as a great room. Not because of a huge television or fancy couches, but because it was simply a great room. The ceiling was easily thirty foot high yet there was no feeling of vertigo looking up. The space to the roof was not a vacant expanse. Tree branches jutted out from walls, crossing the room and sprouting out before exiting on the far side. The wooden walls themselves had been painted, every inch a flowing scene in fall colors. Painted deer danced in the sky, swirls of birds flocked above them, dark charcoal runes lined the floor like rock under the grass flicked with flowers etched atop them. The width of the space was probably twenty five to thirty feet, towards the back of the room a thick winding trunk had been etched into a set of stairs that spiraled up a floor and apparently down one as well.
“Almost as breathtaking as the view.” Erik’s voice startled him, his uncle seated at a carved table to his right.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I appreciate this place more every time I have to wander in your concrete caves.”
“Did you paint all this?” Carrick gestured to the wall.
“Only a small piece, the high birds on the left wall are mine. The shoddy ones towards the top. I never was much of an artist but mother insisted I place my calling in our family line.”
Carrick nodded, continuing to marvel in the room. The carved embroidered seating, flanking the mantle-how they managed to burn wood within wood was beyond him-the animal hide rugs and the books upon books in cases.
“Sit down already, you’ll have all day to wander about wide eyed.” Somewhere high above on the branches he heard a flutter of wings and a thick caw. The kind Arcedes made.
With a nod of his head he walked over to the dining table, a long piece of oak that could seat eight. In a bowl on top of the wood grain were chopped greens. Different colors and textures drenched in a translucent brown sauce. A pile of empty bowls and some dark metal cutlery of to the side.
The chair made no noise as he pulled it out across the wood floor, the plush purple seat cushion surprisingly comfortable.
“Eat.” Erik pushed a bowl towards him.
Carrick quickly complied, filling the small tan pottery dish with an ample helping. Picking up the iron fork he took a bite, marveling at the combination of textures and flavors on his palate. It was salty with a hint of sweetness, a bit of mild heat from the peppers but not enough to distract from the taste. “This is delicious! I’ve never had a salad that tasted so fresh.”
“We do not consume the way you humans do. Our foods are not processed, mass produced or grown from lab seedlings. We eat only the bounty of the world as it is.”
“So you don’t actually cook anything?” Everything in the bowl looked garden fresh.
“No, we cook. The world offers us many spices and lovely coloring without the need for artificial flavors and dyes.”
“How does that work when you’re in the human world?”
“If it had a face, if it grew from the earth, you can eat it.”
“So you eat meat?”
Erik kicked up an eyebrow. “You find that surprising?”
“Well yeah, you’re all eco-whatever. I figured meat would be taboo.”
“We are one with the earth not above her. We have canines akin to the bear and the wolf. Our ingestion of meat keeps populations in balance.”
“How does your bird feel about that?” Carrick had a hard time picturing Arcedes watching him eating chicken.
“Arcedes ingests meat. Why would she feel one way or the other about it?” On cue, there was a trill of agreement from somewhere in the great room.
“Fair enough.” Carrick directed his response at the sound rather than his uncle. While Carrick dished up a second bowl of food, washed down with a glass of water, Erik eyed him
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