Sera didn't speak for a full two days after that, instead just watching him as he continued to go about his usual routine as if it was something fascinating to watch.
A majority of the time, though, she simply stayed near the gate, sitting on that same rock, her sword planted in the dirt beside her and staring into the distance looking lost and without any real purpose. She accepted water when Chris brought it, even acknowledging his words about needing to pull her weight. As the next day, a hell boar carcass rested by the gate, the ancient ent telling him the girl had hunted it through the night. He happily cooked it for them that night with a side of potato-like yam, even giving her some of the fig tree's juice in the mornings after finding it had a refreshing and nutritious effect. He tried to urge her to let the shadow berry vines continue tending her wounds, but she refused by giving a small shake of her head and walking away. Chris didn't press, though; in the end, it was her decision to make.
Chris didn't push to try and force her to talk or to get any kind of reaction out of her. He had learned back in his old life through personal experience regarding a friend that some people needed silence the way others needed words. Funny enough, the old man had been like that too—rather talkative when teaching, yet quiet when thinking or being weighed down by his memories. There were even times when he seemed to become completely unreachable when something was eating at him and he didn't want to share; it was how he was before the end. Sera reminded him of the old man in ways he couldn't quite explain.
Instead of letting it bother him, he chose to work, continuing his already set routine from tending the plants to checking the walls. As he did his rounds along the ent walls, the mobile vines began to trail behind him like overeager patrol dogs. He was more than happy that the biggest amongst them turned out to be the one who had returned injured, now fully healed with the cut marks a faint white pattern across its form, slightly bigger than the rest and clearly their de facto leader.
The scream flowers still pulsing their warnings whenever he got even slightly too close made him sigh in resignation, not understanding their fear of him, while the strangle vines seemed to remain strangely quiet. He liked to believe that they were still satisfied from the raid and whatever bits of beasts they devoured from the nightly attacks. His thoughts once more caused them to look over in his direction, their needle-tipped flowers.
On the third evening, she seemed to take a bigger interest in him, following him as he went about his daily routine throughout the day rather than watching from afar or spending her time gazing into the distance.
He didn't turn to face her when she approached, rather focused on working the soil around the shadow berry vines and inspecting their growth, trying to encourage them to spread a bit more or grow some second-generation vines like most of the other plants had done. "So, it seems you're healing up nicely."
She remained silent for a moment, just watching as he worked the soil and lightly rubbed the vine stems. "I've had worse." She finally remarked, making him roll his eyes. "Sure you have. I mean, it's not like you were at death's door when I brought you in, but if you say you've had worse, you've had worse." He replied somewhat sarcastically before standing and dusting his hands.
If his words bothered her, then she didn't let it show. Instead, she allowed a beat of silence to stretch between them before breaking it with a question. "How long have you been here?" He looked at her for a moment before answering, seemingly trying to find the answer himself. "A fair while now, maybe a bit over a month? Maybe more. I honestly lost track after the first couple weeks. It just lost its importance, I guess. What does the count of days matter when each could be your last?"
All she did was slowly nod at his reply. "And the old man? The one who ran this place before you? I had heard that it was an old man who was the caretaker here, and unless you had somehow found a means to appear young, you don't seem to be him."
Chris felt the familiar weight settle in his chest. "He died." He said flatly, looking to the ancient ent and the patch of flowers. "He ended up giving his life to protecting this place. To protect me…"
Sera was quiet for a long moment, easily recognizing the guilt in his words, the way the weight of that statement seemed to settle over him. "I had a teacher like that once. I had honestly thought I'd outgrown him, that I had left him in the past once I had learned what I could and that was all that mattered before I moved on. He kept trying to teach me new things, kept trying to tell me there was more when there wasn't, and when I pointed that out, he admitted to it. I left that day and never bothered to look back, too focused on moving forward." Her voice was low, but there was something underneath it. "I found out later that he ended up dying alone a few days after I had left. There was no one there for him in the end, and he no doubt tried to keep me there to avoid that. But I didn't notice, or rather I didn't want to notice, and so in the end he died without anyone there, no one even finding him till a few days later. He had no one to—" She stopped.
Chris waited, knowing she no doubt needed to get it off her chest. "I wasn't there," she finished shortly, looking away from him. "That's all."
"He's buried here," Chris whispered. "I laid him to rest near the ancient ent. I had it create a special kind of tomb underground. The flowers that sing at dusk? Those are for him. I planted them especially for him. I guess you could say it was my tribute to him and a grave marker." Chris said lightly. "Or my apology…"
Sera turned to look at the ancient ent before looking at him. And for the first time, it seemed she really saw him as a person rather than someone she had to be suspicious of. Her gaze was softer now, or maybe just more tired? He couldn't really tell.
"Can I see it?" She finally asked tentatively.
Chris only nodded before leading her through the village, past the fig tree and yam tree having their hushed conversation, past where the medical grass now moved while ignoring how it muttered something about finally getting some peace and quiet, past the little world tree's hut, smiling a little at noticing the root it sent to trail them with clear curiosity. Gently explaining things to it in his head. He made extra sure to warn her against touching the gympie vine even as it seemed to wrap around his arm excitedly while they went by, telling her plainly how its needles were extremely dangerous and only he seemed to be immune to it. A small lie, but preferring not to tell her about its sentience or that it intentionally went out of its way not to harm him.
They soon stopped at the ancient ent. The massive tree loomed above them, its bark face ancient and patient. At its base, the moon drop daisies and blood red lilies starting to sing audibly this time, their evening song soft and sad yet somehow hopeful all at once making him smile. Ever since she had come, they had begun to sing audibly rather than in his mind, but only a song or two before continuing to sing only in his mind.
The pair stood there for a long moment, getting lost in the melody before Sera knelt down, pressing her hand to the soil just in front of the blossoms.
"I knew someone like you," she eventually said quietly—not to Chris, but to the ground. To the old man who rested there. "He taught me everything I know today. And I left him because I thought I was done learning. That I didn't need him. I didn't once think that maybe it wasn't me who needed him or his teachings, but rather him who needed me. That he may have wanted nothing more than companionship over a student. A friend over a legacy."
The flowers sang on right into the night at his urging. Even after he left, they continued for Sera who stayed there until the stars came out. The only sound coming from the singing flowers, broken only by the howl of beasts as they once more attacked the village, easily handled and made short work of by the ents and vines.
She found Chris later, sitting beneath the cloud tree with a small bowl in front of him holding a purple liquid and a similar one in hand. Without a word she sat next to him, looking questioningly at the bowl before taking it when he gave a nod and took a sip of his own.
"Theron," she eventually said, making Chris blink and look at her with hints of confusion. "What?"
"That was his name. The old man who I expected to meet here, who gave his life up for yours." She said softly, not once looking at him. "I didn't tell you before because I don't think I was ready, or just felt I needed to see what kind of person you were first. My mentor was an old friend of his… It's part of why I even came into the Barrens." She softly continued. "I... I thought maybe if I did right by him, it would make up for not being there for my mentor…"
Chris went still. The name hit him like a physical blow. He heard everything else she had said, but now finally knowing the name of the old man was something he didn't know he needed. It made him remember their past moments together. He could even imagine his voice saying 'lad' in that dry, amused tone while shaking his head, as if he was amused and disappointed that his name had such a reaction.
"Theron," he repeated. "That, that was his name?" His quiet question caused Sera to look at him with notes of confusion. "You, how did you not know that?"
"He never told me." Chris quietly admitted. "I never told him mine either. It was just 'old man' and 'lad' between us. Only at the end when I, when I buried him that I realized I did so without knowing his name. That I couldn't even give him that final courtesy after failing him…" Chris's voice cracked slightly before he downed his drink and looked away.
Sera was quiet. Then, softly: "That sounds like him. My mentor told me how he was, and these were his exact words: 'Theron is an absolute idiot, never wanting to burden anyone with his past, instead just wanting to help.' But again, that's what my mentor told me and, well, I can't say he was much better or that I was either…" A pause followed that statement before she almost hesitantly added. "My mentor once told me that names were for people who felt they mattered. For those who saw it as a means of recognition and made it harder to see a person for who they actually were. That in the end they were good for legends or records, but he had personally found that they stopped mattering a long time ago."
Chris thought about that. Thought about the old man tending this village alone for years, helping strangers who passed through, burying the dead when he could reach them before the beasts did. Thought about the way he found the old man's body and the way he seemed to be smiling, proud and peaceful like he'd finally found something worth dying for.
"He did matter, though," Chris said. "Just like your mentor mattered to you, he mattered to me…" Sera only nodded. Letting the silence sit between them as she sipped her drink, finding it a mix of sweet and fruity with a faint alcoholic edge but far from enough to have any real effect. It had her look at Chris again, faint notes of curiosity on how he had managed to get something like this out here. If nothing else, though, she found it lessened the sting on her soul.
Late into the night, after Sera had gone to her hut and the world tree confirmed for her that she was asleep, Chris walked to the ancient ent alone. He knelt where she had knelt. Pressing his hand lightly into the soil.
"I know your name now," he whispered with a small, sad smile. "Theron. It's a good name. I think it's also a strong one which really fits you. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it meant 'stubborn' or something similar."
He stayed there for a few minutes longer, tears slowly welling in his eyes. "Just wait. I'll make this place what you hoped it could be. A proper haven and somewhere people can come when they've got nowhere else to go. Taking in those tossed away or needing a home like you did for me." He paused. "There's a girl here now as well. She said her name's Sera and claims her mentor knew and spoke about you. I hope you know that it means you're not forgotten. And now that I know your name, you aren't some nameless old man anymore either."
Slowly standing, he looked to the star-filled sky and heavy hanging moon. "It might seem stupid, but I do hope you're still watching, and that what I'm doing is making you proud…" With that last remark, he slowly began to walk back to his own hut. Wanting to be prepared for another full day but feeling far lighter now than he had before.