That is, until about an hour later, when Hendrik burst out with, “Fuck! What is it?”
Dagan halted and reversed. He suspected he knew the answer already—he’d spotted the brown-and-green cross pattern in the shrub Hendrik was frozen in front of now. Sure enough, a wood snake had slid out onto the path to bask in a spot of sunlight.
“You have squirrels but no snakes in the City?” Dagan moved nearer, and, when the snake didn’t recoil, he knelt. It was used to humans, then, from living so near to the settlement. Wildcrafters probably passed this way one after the other every morning, heading out to their work.
“Snakes aren’t real.” Hendrik unfroze and took a few steps backward. “I thought they were supposed to be giant poisonous worms.”
“Venomous, actually,” Dagan couldn’t help himself. “But these ones aren’t. He’s just a little wood snake trying to warm up.” He reached forward and held out his hand to the snake, which flicked its tongue at him.
Hendrik stood, eyes wide, mouth open, utterly horrified.
“Don’t do this, by the way,” Dagan said. Not that it looked like that would be a problem, from Hendrik’s reaction. “Not just because some of them are venomous, either. Some snakes make excellent pets, though. My brother Tiber always has one of these guys around.”
“Why would you want to keep it as a pet?”
“For company. And they keep rodents out of the stores.”
“So do cats.”
Dagan stroked the snake on its scaly little head with one finger. The snake flicked its tongue again and then returned to sunning itself. “His partner has a cat. Great friends with the snake, believe it or not. They lie in the sun like this together.”
Hendrik shook his head, obviously having given up on the conversation.
“You don’t think it’s a little bit cute?” Dagan pouted up at him.
“No. At least the squirrels are fluffy. This thing is creepy.”
“But it's creepy in a cute way.” Dagan stood and brushed off his pants. “Don’t worry, I spotted it when I walked by. If I see something dangerous, I’ll protect you, darling.”
“You’re unreal,” Hendrik muttered, falling in beside him, now, instead of slightly behind. “Absolutely unreal.”
Dagan wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, so he decided to believe it was good.
*
The Wildcrafter settlement was smaller than most, since a large portion of the conservancy's denizens lived out and about, and traders brought most of their goods from other conservancies with larger marketplaces. The market was quiet when Dagan and Hendrik strolled through it, just a few people haggling over the value of a waterfowl or a sprig of fresh herbs for supper, which made it seem all the tinier in comparison to the others they’d been through.
“It seems abandoned,” Hendrik said quietly.
“It’ll come alive at night, once everyone’s back from the forest. Some of the wildest parties I’ve ever heard of happened in this little marketplace,” Dagan assured him.
“Parties, huh?”
“Yes, you know, things where humans come together to have fun?” Dagan grinned.
“I know, I know. It just…seems like a lot.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I like a party, but I’d prefer another day by the lake. Truth be told.”
Hendrik smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Exactly.”
Dagan tried not to look too proud of himself. “I wouldn’t thrust you into the middle of society before you’re ready. It’s just something to consider, whether you simply like to listen to music or are keen to explore the possibilities of debauchery.”
Hendrik just laughed and raised his eyebrows, which was enough to say that he just might be interested in one of those, if not both. Dagan could hardly believe he was the same ragged man he’d found in that clearing by the beach almost a moon ago.
His hair was still terrible, though, so that should be their first order of business. “Do you want to grow it long, like mine?” Dagan pulled at his braid. “Or shall we have it chopped off?”
Hendrik ran a hand through his hair, suddenly sheepish. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Dagan said seriously. “I can’t take you to the Council looking like a hermit I dug out of a cave somewhere. They’ll never take you seriously as a source of information about anything but the forest gods. And everyone knows they’re just a metaphor.”
“Okay.” Hendrik seemed game enough. “Whatever you say.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dagan glanced around for a local and asked where the nearest barber could be found. Some trekking around later, they found a woman with three small children running about her ankles, hanging up her washing behind a spacious house on the edge of the market. When they made their request, she sat Hendrik down and set to work with a glinting pair of scissors, arranging his hair smoothly and efficiently.
When she finished, he had a stylish cut that fell forward over his forehead but didn’t shade his eyes, so the bright blue of them popped. He glanced in the mirror she held up for him, then looked to Dagan. “Is it okay?”
“Okay? Oh, sweetheart, I feel like she’s just polished a rough stone into a glinting jewel. Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed the barber’s hand, making her laugh. “Can we interest you in some ginseng for trade? Or we have some lovely dried morels from the Mushroom Conservancy, if you’re interested…”
As he was making the trade (she chose the mushrooms, wise woman that she was), a familiar voice said in Dagan’s ear, “I heard you’d arrived.”
He spun and threw his arms around them. “Innan!”
They hugged him tight and quick before pulling back to hold him at arm’s length. “You survived your first trip!”
“Of course—and look what I found.” Dagan gestured to Hendrik, who was awkwardly thanking the barber as he brushed hair off his broad shoulders.
Innan eyed him, then looked to Dagan. “Another one?”
