Weaving Dreams, Thread by Thread II

The next morning, Judio woke with a start, the first rays of sunlight cutting through the small gaps in the wooden shutters of his room. He stretched, his limbs tingling with a subtle ache from days of restless work, yet his chest felt light, his heart steady. There was a quiet thrill coursing through him, a whisper of purpose he hadn't felt in a long time.

Slipping out of bed, he moved with practiced care, each step muffled on the creaking wooden planks. From the small tin chest beneath his bed, he retrieved the pouch that contained what little savings they had left. His hands paused for a moment, holding the cool, worn fabric. The weight of the coins inside seemed lighter than it had before, a fleeting reminder of how precariously they balanced on the edge of scarcity.

After a quick breakfast of rice and dried fish, their familiar salty flavor grounding him in the moment, he stood by the door, one hand resting on its rough wooden frame. He glanced back at the house, a wave of warmth sweeping over him as his gaze settled on the small bundle of his mother's sewing supplies on the corner table. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

"I'll make you proud, Ma," he whispered under his breath.

The world beyond was alive with the gentle hum of the morning. The cool air wrapped around him, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming wildflowers and the earthy musk of damp soil. The cobbled streets of their small neighborhood were still quiet, the only sounds the distant calls of early-rising merchants and the chirp of birds hidden in the canopy above.

The trail was still within the protective barrier surrounding the settlement, a shimmering dome woven by the magical threads of the Weaver Pillars to keep out the monsters that plagued Auralis.

Yet, as the barrier stretched farther into the wilderness, its stability became questionable, its edges prone to cracks—thin, jagged rifts where savage creatures might slip through.

Judio knew the risks and had heard the warnings whispered by elders and travelers alike. Stories of savage beasts lurking in the shadows of these very woods were shared in hushed tones. Most were brushed off as exaggerations to scare children, but he couldn't deny the unease that settled in his stomach whenever he thought about it.

Monsters that fed on fear, despair, or even simple recklessness could pass through those fractures in the barrier.

They would strike without warning, their presence heralded only by the cold spike of terror in the air.

By the time he reached the forest trail's entrance, the mist hanging low in the air had begun to lift. Sunlight filtered through the towering Narra trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The hum of the forest surrounded him—a gentle cacophony of rustling leaves and distant creatures stirring in the underbrush.

But as he took his first steps onto the trail, something suddenly rustled from a pile of dead leaves nearby. Judio froze, his breath hitching. The rustling grew louder, frantic, until a blur of movement shot from the shadows. His instincts kicked in, and he stumbled backward, his hand flying to the small blade he carried for harvesting vegetables.

A creature leaped toward him—its shape low and barreling—but instead of attacking, it veered away, snorting loudly as it passed. Judio blinked, his chest heaving as he recognized the stout, tusked figure of a wild boar. It stopped a short distance away, sniffing the air cautiously before trotting off into the foliage, its thick hide blending into the shadows as if it had never been there.

Judio remained still for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. The encounter had been brief, but the weight of its suddenness lingered. He relaxed his grip on the blade, slipping it back into the sheath at his side. Observing the boar's retreating form, he noted its lack of aggression. It hadn't seemed threatened, nor had it threatened him. With a quiet exhale, he decided to let it go. There was no need to disturb the forest's balance more than he already had.

He shivered, unsure whether it was from the chill of the mist or the weight of his own imagination. His eyes darted to the dense undergrowth on either side of the trail, where shadows seemed to shift and sway with the breeze. Every rustle of leaves or distant bird call sent a flicker of tension through his body.

He couldn't afford to slow down. The crackling tension of fear might have paralyzed a lesser resolve, but Judio forced himself to focus. His breathing was steady, his hands clenched tightly around the strap of the basket slung over his shoulder. He couldn't afford distractions—not now, not when everything was on the line.

"Keep moving," he muttered to himself, his voice barely louder than a whisper. It was a mantra, a shield against the weight of the forest's oppressive silence.

As he trudged forward, a faint hum resonated in the distance, barely perceptible over the sounds of the forest. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. The hum was low, rhythmic, and unnatural. It sent a chill crawling up his spine as he scanned his surroundings, his pulse quickening.

He didn't see anything. Yet.

Judio took a cautious step forward, his ears straining for any hint of movement. The hum seemed to grow softer, as if retreating—or perhaps waiting. He clenched his jaw and pushed forward, his pace quickening as his mind raced.

"Stay calm," he thought, gripping the small blade he held firmly with both hands. It was dull and unimpressive, but in his hands, it was more than just a tool—it was his last line of defense. He couldn't let the fear overwhelm him. And he'd be damned if he let the forest take that away from him.

The trail stretched further ahead, quiet except for the sound of his own footsteps. The forest grew denser as he walked, the air cooler and laced with the damp scent of moss and bark. He made short stops along the way—pausing to collect nearby herbs and place them in his bayong, to take a sip from the small water pouch he carried, or simply to observe the faint flicker of sunlight piercing through the canopy.

As the day wore on, the light began to fade. The long shadows of the trees stretched across the path, and soon the world around him was bathed in twilight. The hum of the forest changed as darkness crept in—soft chirps of crickets replaced the birdsong, and distant rustlings in the underbrush took on a more ominous tone.

The forest may have been a place of lurking danger, but he had come too far to turn back. The academy, the future, the chance to make his mother proud—they were all within reach. And he'd be damned if he let the forest take that away from him.

By sunrise, he reached the eastern road where the caravan had set up camp. A handful of wagons were lined up, their wooden wheels gleaming in the morning light, and a group of people—mostly merchants and travelers—were preparing for the journey. The caravan leader, a tall man with short-cropped hair and a weathered face, was overseeing the loading of goods.

Judio approached cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. "Excuse me, sir. I heard you're looking for help with transporting goods?"

The man turned to him, eyeing him up and down. "And who might you be?"

"My name is Judio," he replied, standing straighter. "I heard you're offering work, and I could use the pay to cover my registration fee at the academy."

The leader paused, then studied Judio's face for a moment longer. "You're serious about it, huh? You know the mountain passes aren't for the faint of heart. You'll be carrying heavy loads and dealing with the elements. Not to mention, there are always risks on those roads."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," Judio said firmly. "I need this. I'll work hard."

The caravan leader seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright, then. You can join us. But know this—once you're in, you're expected to give everything you've got. We leave at dawn tomorrow."

Judio's heart skipped a beat. He had been accepted. "Thank you, sir," he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. "I won't let you down."

As the leader turned to give orders to his men, Judio stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of the opportunity in his hands.

Judio's work is anything but easy. His tasks ranged from shelving delicate chicken eggs in the storage hut to carefully boxing orders for delivery. Each morning began with hauling bundles of firewood from the nearby pile, their rough edges leaving faint scrapes on his forearms.

The afternoons were spent repairing the rickety fence around the clearing, hammering nails into stubborn wood while the sun bore down relentlessly. Between these larger tasks, he tended to the small herb garden, crouching for hours to pluck out stubborn weeds that threatened to choke the tender plants.

The work was grueling, leaving his hands calloused and his back sore, but Judio never complained. He saw every bead of sweat rolling down his brow and every aching muscle as a small victory—a step closer to the future he dreamed of. The rhythmic sounds of the farm—clucking hens, the creak of the wooden fence, and the occasional rustle of leaves—became a melody of purpose that kept him going.

The job took Judio an entire month, leaving him with barely any time to rest as he tackled the workload of two people, often working 16-hour days. As the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the fields, Judio wiped his brow with a satisfied sigh, a small sense of accomplishment easing the weight of his exhaustion.

The caravan leader handed him a small pouch with 6 bronze-glazed paper notes, 2 bronze coins, and 30 copper coins, a reward that brought a tired but triumphant smile to his face. It was more than enough to cover the rest of his tuition.

"Good work, lad," the man said, giving him a firm pat on the back. "You've earned it. Stay safe on the way back, and give those books hell when you get into that academy."

Judio nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

As luck would have it, a caravan had stopped at the clearing just as Judio was preparing to leave. It was a small group of traders, their wagons loaded with crates of goods covered by canvas tarps. When Judio explained that he lived in Kabunlawan, the merchant—a gruff but kind-eyed man named Mang Kanor—offered him a ride.

"We're headed that way anyhow," Mang Kanor said with a shrug. "No sense in you walking back on foot. Hop on."

Judio didn't hesitate. Climbing onto one of the wagons, he settled among the crates, his body sinking into the rough wooden planks. The rhythmic creak of the wagon wheels and the steady clopping of the horses' hooves were a welcome reprieve after the day's work.

The caravan's journey back to Kabunlawan was peaceful. They passed through rolling hills and quiet glades, the golden hues of dusk painting the landscape in serene beauty. Judio allowed himself to relax for the first time in what felt like days. He leaned back against the crates, the faint hum of the traders' chatter lulling him into a state of calm.

As evening fell, the caravan rolled into Kabunlawan, its protective barrier shimmering faintly under the fading light.

The bustling marketplace was winding down for the night, the warm glow of lanterns casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Judio thanked Mang Kanor and the traders profusely before hopping off the wagon, his legs slightly stiff from the ride.

The walk to his home was short, and as he approached the modest wooden house he shared with his mother, the familiar scent of her cooking wafted through the air. His heart swelled with a mixture of relief and pride. He pushed open the door to find her setting the table, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Judio! You're back," she said, her voice warm and welcoming.

He grinned, holding up the pouch of coins and notes. "And I've got the rest of my tuition covered."

Her eyes glistened with pride, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm so proud of you, Anak," she whispered.

That night, as they shared a simple meal of adobong manok, the rich, savory aroma of soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic filled the small, candle-lit room.

The tender chicken glistened with its glossy, dark sauce, its flavor a perfect harmony of tangy and salty, with a subtle hint of pepper and bay leaves. Each bite was a comforting reminder of home, the familiar warmth of meals shared after a hard day's work. Judio savored the dish, the flavors dancing on his tongue, each mouthful grounding him in the moment.

The journey had been long and tiring, but sitting there with his mother, the satisfying taste of their shared meal made everything feel worth it. For the first time in a while, he allowed himself to dream—not just of the academy, but of a brighter future for them both.