Role

Chapter 2

Mr. Bogglesworth had but one truly sharp blade, and he used it to keep his
mustache groomed. Obughum would watch in wonder at the care and effort Mr.
Bogglesworth put into his facial hair, and he felt as though he were left out
of some incredible ritual being unable to grow his own.

"Is your mustache kind of like your special prayer to Akresius, pops?"
Obughum asked.

Mr. Bogglesworth laughed.

"Ho! You could say that."

The two lived a life full of ritual, their bonds forged by the hardships and
rewards of the wilds. They hid from headhunters and fearsome swamp beasts
like alligators. All the same, they revered the wonders and horrors of the
natural world. Mr. Bogglesworth had long sensed Obughum special connection
with it.

They starved together, they dined together. But one day, Mr. Bogglesworth
embarked on a journey he could only take alone. He died with his eyes open,
staring straight up at the sky, his arms crossed over his chest, in stoic
repose.

Obughum wept over the corpse of his second dead father when out of some
nearby muck, an alligator appeared. With an unexpected gentleness, the
reptile took Mr. Bogglesworth's legs in its jaw and slowly receded into the
swamp's murk.

Obughum was certain that Akresius gave his most beloved and devout follower a
worthy sendoff. Akresius is the natural struggle. Akresius is the swamp. His
father was a great father, and a devout follower of Akresius. So Akresius
must be the best father.

What else could Akresius be? Obughum wondered.

Obughum left all of Mr. Bogglesworth's belongings - his mustache knife, a
makeshift pen and a journal that Obughum couldn't read - in a pile beneath
some old vines. He crept out of the swamps and avoided the dreaded rats and
youngbloods of Whistlewood, eventually making his way onto the Feanwynn
Weald, where the open air took his breath away.