And so they set off in the direction of the Dark Enchantress’s castle, side-by-side. They went south, for a while, towards the next village. But before reaching it, they turned off the enchanted path and took a lesser, non-magical trail off into the forest, one that was rough and seemed infrequently travelled.

“The main road heads south, to a village called Tradition and the North-Western Artery,” Yaz explained. “The Dark Enchantress lives in the heart of Spider Swamp, to the East. There’s no main road to her castle, probably because there aren’t enough travellers, I suppose. This trail takes us to the peninsula where Magicist Beers lives, which is on the edge of the swamps. When the trail turns south to his place, we need to keep going east, which should bring us into the swamps. It’s been a while since I’ve come this way, I usually visit the good magicist by boat, but I think there’s a trail of some kind that we can take. I seem to remember a sign.”

The walk was peaceful. The forest rose tall on both sides, broken here and there by a bubbling stream or scrub brush. The sun warmed them from above, a bright, cheery ball of yellow high above in a mostly clear blue sky. Every now and then huge, fluffy cloud giants drifted by at play. From the ground, they seemed to move in slow motion. The day was pleasant and birds sung happily in the boughs above. The more adept ones even managed rudimentary lyrics. Every other song seemed to be about mating. So, it was a lot like pop music back on Earth.

As they walked, Yaz patiently pointed out all the interesting things about the scenery as they passed and generously answered Arwin's endless questions about it. Being very old and very well travelled, Yaz was a font of knowledge about all things Heartstone. Arwin soon counted himself incredibly fortunate to have met him.

"That," said Yaz, pointing to bush covered in red berries, "is a mulberry bush. Eating the berries causes you to mull over things and really focus. Excellent when you need to think on something really hard. Some parents give them to their children as study aids, though there’s some controversy about such things.”

Arwin sampled one. It tasted a bit dusty to him. “There was a blueberry bush near where I came into Heartstone,” he said.

"Nutritious, but causes depression in large amounts."

"So I gathered. Or rather, I didn't, for that very reason."

Yaz counted off types of berries on the points of his finger bones. “Strawberries are delicious but have no nutritional value, just like straw. Raspberries will make your voice raspy. Elderberries make you older. Doesn't bother me any, I'm immortal, but you should take care. You may prefer the rarer youngerberries, which make you younger. Women of all races are desperate for them, but the bushes are rare and can't be artificially cultivated. Currants have an electrifying spark when you bite into them. Nothing painful; kids love them. Chokeberries—“

Arwin’s eyes widened in alarm. "I'll stay away from those!”

"Quite,” Yaz firmly agreed. “Blackberries turn your skin darker, even black for a short while if you eat enough of them. Ninjas are said to use them before missions. Also popular with cosplayers, performers and makeup artists. White berries for the same, but in reverse. Cloudberries get you high."

"Like you're walking on clouds?"

"They make you feel very happy, but also slightly above everyone else, as if you’re better than them. People get addicted to them for both reasons. Oh! These are fun." He stopped by a bush and plucked a couple of dark purple berries. "Try them." He handed them to Arwin.

Arwin popped one into his mouth and bit down. "Ow!" he exclaimed. It felt as if Yaz had just poked him in the chest. He frowned at his companion. "Did you—?”

"No." Yaz smiled.

Arwin eyed him crossly and ate another berry. Again, a hard poke hit him, this time in the stomach. He looked at the berries in consternation, then realization dawned on him. "Ah! Pokeberries!"

Yaz laughed. "Yes."

Arwin tossed the rest in his mouth all at once and winced as his body was bombarded from several directions at once. "Delicious but painful. A berry interesting lesson."

They continued walking along the path. A little further along, they came across a small hut made of wooden slats and grasses.

"What's that?" Arwin asked.

"A cloak room. A room that makes cloaks. There’s another variety, cloak and dagger rooms, but they’re much harder to find, their locations often mysteries.”

True enough, when they poked their heads in, a wide variety of cloaks hung from the walls. When Arwin experimentally took one off of a peg-like branch growing from a strut in the wall, another cloak slowly spun into being to take its place, threads growing right out of the branch.

They continued on and stopped at another odd site.

"And that?" Arwin pointed to a rectangular structure that looked as if it was made from sheets of chocolate-coloured satin.

"An enrober,” Yaz noted. “It provides robes.”

“Is stuff like this common around Heartstone?” Arwin asked as they stood in front of the enrober.

Yaz nodded. “In Heartstone, you can physically craft the things you need by hand, without magic. But we're also lucky in that magic naturally affects evolution and this creates a good many useful plants and animals for us as well. Things like the cloak room and the enrober, on the other hand, are man-made, of course. Over the millennia, inventors and cultivators have used magic to create useful, and not-so-useful things: machines, plants and items. Many of these have been scattered all around Heartstone, even in the wild. And some, especially living creations, have replicated on their own and become part of the natural flora and fauna of the continent. In this case, the cloak room and enrober were probably assembled by good-natured folk as a way to help out passing travellers, such as ourselves. It looks like someone smart made these,” he pointed out. “If you’ll notice, both are made of entirely natural materials. At some point, both will age and fall apart and become part of the soil just like a dead tree, so there’s no worry about pollution.”

Arwin smiled mischievously. "Wait here. I've got a great idea." He went over to the enrober, rummaged inside for a few minutes until finding what he wanted, then returned. He held out a black bundle. "Here. Try it on."

Yaz looked confused. “Why? I'm a skeleton. I don't need clothes. The rain and wind aren't a bother."

"Trust me,” Arwin insisted, pushing the bundle into the skeleton's hands.

Yaz shrugged and threw the garment on. It was a black, hooded robe with sleeves. His bone-white face peered out from under the cowl.

"Excellent!" Arwin grinned. "You look ten times more menacing like this. On Earth, the personification of death is often a skeleton in just this kind of black robe. Now we just need to get you a scythe, for reaping the souls of the dying. Figuratively, of course.”

Yaz stretched out his arms and tried to get a look at himself. He pushed the hood away from his eyes. "I can hardly see with this thing in front of my face,” he complained. “And it feels so bulky. I rarely wear clothes.”

"But I'll bet you're a lot more intimidating this way. Much less likely to be the victim of bad troll humour. Just glower and wiggle your fingers menacingly and watch what happens."

Yaz reluctantly looked around for someone to experiment on. He found a toadstool on the side of the road and walked over. It was a few moments before the toad stopped hopping around and noticed him, graciously offering the skeleton its stool-shaped head as a seat. The skeleton stepped forward and did his best to look dangerous. His fingers waggled with menace and the permanent white grin of his undead skull loomed from the shadows of the hood.

The toad croaked a shriek and bolted away as fast as it could ponderously hop.

Yaz returned to Arwin. "I like it,” he decided happily. “This might come in handy.” So as not to go around scaring people unnecessarily, however, he removed the robe and slung it over his shoulder.

They walked on. A short while later, Arwin thought he heard voices coming from the trees. He paused to listen and was certain that he heard girls giggling and laughing.

“Are we near a village?” Arwin asked his new friend.

Yaz shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.” He cocked his head and listened. “Fellow travellers perhaps?”

Arwin was eager to experience anything and everything that was Heartstone. “Shall we investigate?” he asked, moving towards the side of the path.

“Sure.”

They pushed their way past bushes lining the path and entered the forest. The trees around them were tall and majestic with wide trunks that must have taken many centuries to grow.

Soon, Yaz noticed something in the distance. He grabbed Arwin and hauled him behind one of the tree trunks, out of view.

“What is it?” Arwin asked, now even more curious.

“Look,” Yaz urged. “But stay hidden.”

Arwin craned his head around the tree trunk.

Before them, the forest opened into a beautiful glade. On one side, a spring fountained up from some rocks, filling a small, clear pool. There was an orchard with fruit trees, including a breadfruit tree whose fruit was actually loaves of fresh bread that gave off steam; you could smell them baking as they grew. There was a carnival-style booth made out of branches and vines and flowers. It had a crude sign that said Meat Market and, on the table below, several sexy cuts of cooked meat paraded around like they were on a fashion show catwalk. On another side of the glade was a tent-like structure.

And there was more. Something miraculous.

Arwin’s heart came to an abrupt, over-excited halt for a long moment. Mouth hanging open in awe, he watched several remarkable creatures going in and out of the fabric hut. "What…?” he breathed in soft wonder.

"Ah,” Yaz replied, almost keeping the smile out of his voice. “I could see how that would be interesting to those still of the flesh. The hut is a disrober. It makes you want to take your clothes off." It was very similar to the enrober, but made of white satin. Discarded clothes had been cast about around the exit.

"It's amazing,” Arwin replied, eyes glued to the glory before him. “But I meant them.” He pointed. “Who are they?“

Outside the hut cavorted a collection of ravishingly beautiful women. They played a very interesting game. First, they'd throw on some clothing that was laying about near the disrober. Then they'd run into the tent. Once inside, a compulsion seemed to overcome them and, as they came out the other side, they tore the clothing off as fast as they could, as if it was suddenly too itchy for them to bear for a moment longer. Then they danced naked outside, all laughs and fits of pleasantly jiggling giggles. Then they ran back to do it all over again amidst the cheers of their friends.

Arwin practically drooled. "I want one."

"Which? The disrober or the nymphs?"

"Both,” Arwin decided easily. Because placing that disrober in the middle of a festival or something, and getting a bunch of unsuspecting people to walk through it, would be hilarious. But the women… He had to consciously remember to breathe. “Those are nymphs?" he asked.

Gazing at these wild, forest nymphs was like gazing unto a splendid and varied garden. No two women were alike. Some nymphs were completely naked, while others had artfully draped garlands of colourful flowers and deep green leaves about their bodies, hiding only enough to excite the imagination while remaining essentially still nude. Butterflies and even hummingbirds danced amidst the nymphs, sometimes landing on the foliage in their hair or that was draped about their breasts, quickly feeding from their flowers before darting away.

The females were almost entirely human in overall appearance, but for a few exceptions. Some appeared to look like any normal woman, but with a divine figure and perfect but regular skin. Others had bodies that were as colourful as flowers, the skin coloured pink, blue, green, red, or purple, like petals. For a few, their entire bodies were coloured; for others, only the most intriguing parts were, as if nature were doing even more to draw the eye to those regions. And it worked!

The hair on their heads was seemingly strung with leaves and flowers, though it was unclear from a distance if these were decoration or actually growing there. All the ladies were toned and fit, each one a magnificent picture of health and fertility that was no doubt reflective of a very active, outdoor lifestyle. This seemed to have no bearing whatsoever on the size of their breasts, however, some being the size of ripe apples while others were large, luscious melons.

Bright eyes came in all colours, from joyfully-sparkling gold to mysterious green to icy-cool blue to playful pink. Some had short, plain nails, while others had long nails as green as a tree’s leaves or as brown as bark.

Below their navels, some had a bit of soft hair and some only bare skin as flawless as the rest of their bodies. Others instead had small beds of moss, while some had delicate little patches of ivy. One even had a patch of thorns. Hopefully soft ones, unless you were a masochist and enjoyed that sort of thing, then lucky you.

Evolution could be awesome.

Yaz smiled knowingly at Arwin’s interest in the nature spirits. “Yes, these are nymphs. There's a variety of them all over Heartstone. These here are forest nymphs, obviously. Their role is to care for the local forest and the living things within it. There are also water nymphs, cloud nymphs, fruit nymphs, vegetable nymphs, book nymphs, and many other varieties. Many have physical characteristics reflective of their nature. You can see the way these ladies take to flowers and leaves. There are also male nymphs called satyrs. Satyrs look mostly human and are usually tall and muscled. Some have a horse-like tail, many have slightly long ears, and most have, uh, well, horse-sized genitalia that is constantly erect. For the latter reason, as well as their extreme sexual abilities, women of Heartstone are as interested in them as men are of nymphs, although many women are much more secretive about their lust.”

Arwin barely heard Yaz’s words. The creatures in front of him were mind-blowing visions. "They're gorgeous!" he exclaimed quietly, staggered. "They're all perfect, every one. I mean, there isn't one that I wouldn’t…you know."

"That's the idea. That's an essential part of what they are. Nymphs and satyrs are living celebrations of beauty, life, and fertility. They take their roles seriously as caretakers of the forest. But even as they go about their duties, they do so in a manner that is always fun and nothing is more fun than making love. Fertility and sex and nature are all one and the same.”

“Well, they certainly do look like fun,” Arwin chuckled. “I could sit here all day and never get bored.”

“We’re not in a rush.” Yaz waved Arwin towards the glade. “Why don’t you join them for a while?”

Arwin’s head snapped around and he looked over at Yaz. “Really?”