Heart of the Woods Short Story (Patreon)

Today, February 15th, we're celebrating the 3rd anniversary of Heart of the Woods' original PC release! Although it was a written a couple months ago, today we're posting an untitled short story that Rachel wrote, focusing on the friendship between Abby and Morgan. Enjoy!

When Tara and Maddie forged our birth certificates, we all decided that Abigail would be my cousin. It was important to both of us that we be related, but we couldn’t exactly tell the government that Abigail was my great-great-great-great aunt. Or however many greats it is. Besides, it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

But I want the record to show that we’re family. Real, loving family. The kind I thought I’d never have. Not after… her.

It’s hard to even say her name these days. Not just because it was never her name to begin with, but because it still evokes so much pain. It’s been over a year since that final confrontation by the moonlit lake, and the wounds don’t sting as much anymore. But they still sting. Maybe they always will. At least now the warmth I feel in my heart can soothe that pain.

Warmth that comes from friendship, from love, and from family. Everything I could ever want. The kind that makes you want to celebrate.

That’s why we’re here, naturally. A night out at a bar with friends and family. Certainly a welcome change from drinking alone.

“Wait, wait, hang on. You’re saying you had booze with breakfast?”

Tara stares at Abigail in disbelief and takes another sip of her appletini. As always, her voice is the loudest sound in the building.

“Well, yes,” Abigail replies nonchalantly. “In my time, it was quite commonplace for beer to be served with every meal. It helps you feel warm in cold weather, you know.”

“Ugh. Not worth it. Beer tastes nasty.”

Maddie nods in agreement. “I can’t say that I’m a fan either.”

“Well, of course you two wouldn’t be!” Abigail’s tone is surprisingly indignant. “The ‘beer’ you have now might as well be water with a single drop of beer added to it. I can barely taste it, let alone achieve any sort of inebriation with something so… mild.”

She’s not wrong. American beer really is pathetic. I’ve had to stick with hard liquor if I want to get any sort of buzz. Tara, meanwhile, can barely handle two or three drinks before tapping out. It is funny being able to carry her home when she does, though.

“Hey, Abigail.”

Abigail turns to look at me with a smile, taking another sip of her vodka. “Yes?”

“What would you say to a drinking contest?

She claps excitedly and beams at me. “Oh, yes! That sounds lovely! We should all play together!”

“I don’t know about that, sweetie…” Maddie replies, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure Tara and I won’t be able to compete for long compared to you two.”

“Nonsense, Madison! If you call on your fighting spirit, I’m sure you’ll do just fine!”

Tara motions for another drink and gives me one of those adorable goofy grins of hers. “I’m in. Let’s do it. If it’s for a contest, I can definitely hold out longer than you’d think. The fighting spirit and stuff. What Abby said.”

“Splendid!” Abigail claps and turns to face the bar. “Ms. Barkeep? Could we please have four drinks?”

***

By our sixth drink, it becomes abundantly clear that Maddie and Tara’s “fighting spirit” isn’t quite as strong as Tara claimed it was. The two of them have their heads down on the bar, groaning in unison. By ten, Abigail’s flushed face tells me that even she’s feeling the effects. It’s probably just the alcohol talking, but I’ve found myself really wanting to win this thing.

“Glad to see… the spirit of Eysenfeld is still alive and kicking…” she mumbles, waving for two more drinks. “I was afraid that the villagers had gotten soft in the last two centuries.”

“Well, most did. I just drank a lot. It was a good distraction.”

“Oh, you poor thing! I hope it isn’t the same way here!”

“No, definitely not. I don’t need to be distracted anymore.”

Abigail coos sympathetically, the kind of sound only a drunk femme can make. Then she pulls me into a warm hug.

“I’m so glad you came with us, Morgan. Madison has made it easier for me to get used to this new world, but experiencing things that neither you nor I have done before has made it even more exciting.”

She’s right. I’m a lot more used to the world today than she is, but that sheltered life in the village deprived me of almost everything modern. I haven’t even gotten the hang of a cell phone yet. But at least I knew what they were before I got here, unlike her.

“Thanks, Abigail. I like learning beside you too.”

“Good! It’s a lovely form of family bonding, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“And so is this!” Abigail cries, grabbing her new drink and slamming it back without hesitation.

I try to do the same, but end up coughing on the last sip. It might be time to admit defeat. Who could have guessed that such a sweet and bubbly girl had such powerful alcohol tolerance?

“It’s okay, Morgan,” she reassures me. “You’ve done very well. As expected of my nie—cousin!”

“Good save.”

I turn over my last glass, holding my head and waving to acknowledge her victory. Next time, Dalsing. Next time for sure.

“Now then…” Abigail muses, crossing her arms. “What are we to do about our low-tolerance lovers?”

“Oh, I’m going to carry mine. Maybe you can get Maddie to limp along with you.”

“Right now, I feel like I could carry my Madison for miles! I’ll follow your lead!”

Well, well, well. Look at you, cousin. All fired up and ready to go. Seeing her like this makes me wonder...

Maybe it was her generation that passed some of that fire down to me.

Thank you, Abigail. Thank you.