Six

Baudry was in a quandary. In order to get to the Particular tree, he could either go straight ahead, across the Wide Open Field, or skirt around the edges, which would set him back nearly an entire day. The Field deserved its name. It stretched far across in every direction, almost a perfect circle, and contained little more than low-growing weeds and grasses. It was sometimes used for public gatherings, though these were few and far between. There was no government in Canopus, no organized society of any kind, really. There were no laws, only unwritten rules and customs, which were fairly self-evident, such as 'do unto others' and 'leave well enough alone'. There was practically no one in the forest who still believed in any kind of god. Where there was no fear and no death, there wasn't much of a need for safety valves.
What worried Baudry about crossing the Filed was exposure. Once you stepped out into the plain, you were visible and very much so. Peering in from the edges he could easily see that there was no one out there at all. People generally stayed off it, leaving it to the rabbits, snakes, moles and squirrels. It was a happy hunting ground for raptors, but kind of a trap for people. Literally, a people trap, because once you were out there, you were sure to attract not only attention, but company. There were those who remained perched high up in the canopy, waiting and watching for for someone to brave the field and when someone did, down they'd come. Baudry knew the risk, but decided to take it. He didn't want to lose any time, and, saying a brief prayer of sorts that he would make it through at least largely untrammeled, he stepped out onto the plain.
Three steps. All he took was three steps in the open and there she was.
"Oh no," Baudry sighed, but it was already too late. There was no turning back now, because any companion you picked up in the field could only be left on the field if you crossed. Otherwise you could be stuck with them indefinitely.
"Boddery!" she screeched as she swung down from the branch of an overgrown apple tree and flung herself into the field before he could even consider running. Baudry had to pause for a moment to acknowledge her. Anything else would be extremely rude, he understood, but after a brief greeting he picked up his pace and began walking as steadily and as rapidly as he could across the vast lawn.
"Gooshga," he murmured. "You haven't grown".
"Well of course I haven't grown, you silly man," Gooshga cackled as she grabbed a hold of his left elbow and pulled herself alongside him. She was also sixty-four, and had been so for many years, perhaps as many as Baudry. He had met her before on occasion, and prepared himself as best he could for the impending onslaught.
"It's been too long, my friend," she informed him, as he mentally responded that it hadn't been anywhere near long enough.
"Where's your flute?" she asked, peering into his shoulder bag. "I don't see it in here. Have you left it behind? We could go fetch it together. Yes, let's do that," and she tugged at him, but he was considerably stronger and held out, and soon she relented. If she had been able to pull him back into the trees at that point, she could have remained by his side for years and he wasn't going to let that happen, no matter what. He glanced down at the tiny, shriveled creature, her hair all a tangle of grey and white, her wrinkles innumerable. She looked much older than he did. She had not aged well in the outer world. Rumor had it she had lived on the streets, had suffered many hardships and struggled through a difficult incarnation. Now she was here she was happy all the time, and that was only part of the problem.
"We'll make you another flute," she decided after he had refused to respond.
"I've got my sticks, do you see?" she continued, and held out a hollowed out branchlet and a few twigs. "We could make beautiful music together, yes, beautiful, with me on my drums and you on your flute. We did it one time before, did we not? Oh yes, I believe that we did. I would remember such a thing, I certainly would."
Baudry remembered as well. It happened years before, in the days of his innocence, as he liked to express it, before he became fully aware of the implications of their plight. They would remain here forever. They wouldn't ever change, not really. Things might happen, things that would stick, but you'd better be careful what you wished for.
"I heard that the Still People found a new way," she whispered, as if there was somebody else within earshot.
"So I'm told," Baudry replied, and immediately cursed himself for speaking up.
"Yes, a new way," Gooshga went on. "They're making brandy now too, along with the wine. It was all in the straining, they say. Up in the hills they're cranking it out by the barrel. Yes, they have barrels! That's what's new. Someone named Cooper, I think, had figured it out. Why, I can't even make me a basket that holds, and up there, those people have barrels. It makes you wonder now, doesn't it?"
It didn't make him wonder. Not really. Well, maybe a little. Take modern day people and make them live in the stone age, with nothing but wood, plants and rocks, and what do you expect them to do? Of course they will learn how to make things the old way. Of course they'll revert and remember. Now the Still People, as Baudry knew well, liked to stay drunk all the time. It was their way, their solution, and they kept to themselves, didn't bother anyone. Baudry didn't like to go there. There was something indelibly sad about them.
Gazing ahead he could not see the far edge of the forest. It was going to be a very long afternoon. Gooshga would not stop talking. That was her way, the way of all leeches out here in the Field. There would be gossip, and rumors and no letting go. If he wasn't especially careful, he could easily end up saying the wrong words, words which might condemn him to her company even longer. There was a way, a right way, and a wrong way as well. Gooshga was wily. She was sure she could prompt him to say those wrong words.
"You want me to go on my merry way now?" she pestered him, but he knew better than to utter "I do". Best to say nothing, keep the mouth closed.
"Would you like to play with my buddy?" she asked, holding out a small, intricately carved and painted wooden figure of a person. Baudry scanned the object closely. It was very well made, he had to admit. It looked like the work of a master. There were a number of these in the forests, people who carved figurines which served as a kind of currency as well as a past-time. Others would collect them, trade them, play with them, make up stories about them. Some of the figures were mythical and were said to even have powers. A lot of nonsense was said in this place, he reflected.
"I call him my buddy," Gooshga went on, waving the toy in front of his face, "but he's much more than that. You know who he is, I can tell, and you're right. It's Frijana the Wild. Yes, yes. THE Frijana, the last of her kind. Her sisters were consigned to fire in the last great Freak Out, remember? When the Cave Dwellers came out rampaged across from the lake. There was the big fire and they threw all her sisters in it. This is the very Frijana that made it out of there undamaged."
Gooshga examined the toy once again before thrusting it back into her skirt. Next she pulled out a stack of identical oak leaves.
"Twenty one," she declared. "All alike. It's not something you see every day."
Again Baudry looked but this time he wasn't intrigued. He'd almost believed the Frijana and wondered how she had got it. Such possessions were rare and not freely given, and stealing was very uncommon. Who would have ever given it to a gossip-demon like Gooshga? Then he'd noted the lack of one ear on the doll and realized it was only a fake. Frijanas always had both of their ears. The leaves were comonplace items, often used as playing cards. Baudry picked up his pace.
Gooshga kept up. She was not planning on letting him easily escape. She had all day, and a whole lot of tricks in her repertoire. She badgered and cajoled him, taunted and teased him, asked him and told him but Baudry managed to keep silent the rest of the way, and once he could see the edge of the woods in the distance, he knew he would make it. Gooshga didn't let up, but grew louder and more goading than ever.
"I can get you whatever you want," she attempted a bribe. "You know that I can. Is it girls? You old dog. I'll be you want girls but the Baudry I know is too shy to ask. I'll do the asking and no telling, I promise. It will just be our secret. No one will know. You whisper to me what you want and I'll get it."
Baudry merely plodded ahead.
"I know where the best sawdust lies," Gooshga insisted. "They grind it up special and smoke it, you know. Did you see there's a goal under there?"
She pointed toward a clump of stones to their left, and Baudry looked also. He had to pay attention to a possible goal. He considered taking a break from the journey to make a closer inspection, but just as his legs began to slow down he remembered just who he was talking to. She was dangerous. That was a narrow escape! If he'd stopped for a moment, he might have been lost.
"Keep it together," he reminded himself, and kept on. Gooshga began to sense her defeat and started to lag a little behind. She shouted louder and tried to inform him of various rumors she'd heard, but Baudry was stepping into the trees, and in moments he was free of the spell. With a huge, overwhelming sense of relief, he collapsed on the duff and, closing his eyes, took a very short nap.