by Kelly Napoli
***
Fifteen year old Kiethara snapped back to the present. She shook her head to clear it from the sudden wave of sorrow that threatened to take her under. She took a deep breath, her excitement mounting again.
It made her wonder: what other precious items could be laying on the forest floor? Especially now that she realized the forest was a thousand times larger than she had dared to imagine, stretching from one undreamed-of horizon to the other, there just had to be some discovery to make. It was a promising aspect, for the idea that nothing was out there was almost as unbelievable as the forest’s magnitude was.
Kiethara turned on her heel, deciding what random direction she ought to take to start her journey off. She found herself gazing readily towards the east.
For a while, Kiethara found herself following the sloppy carvings she had once made herself. The vegetation had changed somewhat since she had made them, but most remained. She idly wondered if she would be able to carve symbols throughout the forest, but that would take years, it now seemed, and besides, she was older, and her sense of direction was much improved from that of her younger self.
It took her a good hour before the carvings stopped, indicating that she had reached unexplored territory. From now on, she would walk as straight a path as possible. She doubted she would get lost, but the idea of calling to Aaron for help almost made her limbs disappear again. She was too proud for that nonsense.
She was beginning to notice a change in the topography around her. The trees were changing ever so slightly—they were thinning by minute degrees and increasing in variation.
It didn’t take more than another hour of this directionless wandering to become tiresome and dull. She was growing rather weary, rather bored. Tree after tree, with a glimpse of an animal every few feet, wasn’t exactly what she had been hoping for.
A snap of a twig made Kiethara freeze, her eyes automatically scanning her surroundings for the source. She knew without a doubt it had not been her, for she could walk the forest as silently as she could fly it.
She then spotted the source of the disturbance.
It was the cutest sight she had ever seen before. A young tiger stood off a few yards to her right. It barely measured a foot high, with its fur the warmest shade of orange, interrupted by periodic sharp, black stripes. Spots of white, plush fur appeared spontaneously on its paws and face, and its eyes appraised her with a childish curiosity.
Kiethara gasped in delight, but the sudden sound made the small thing dash behind a tree in fright.
“No, no, it’s okay! I will not hurt you,” she cooed, slowly sinking to her knees. The cub stuck his head out behind the bark, observing her once again. Kiethara, eagerly but slowly, stuck her hand out.
The tiger, very slowly, came out behind the tree. Kiethara smiled in confidence as he padded closer. No matter what the animal, she had never had one run away from her before. They always approached her eventually, as though she held an irresistible pull over them.
Finally, the baby was right in front of her, sniffing her outstretched hand. It seemed to be okay with whatever scented her palm and she took the advantage to rub his soft pelt. A soft purr came from the gentle beast.
A growl ripped apart the calm forest air. This growl was the single most menacing thing Kiethara had ever heard. It continued to get louder at an alarming rate, followed closely by the sound of heavy, padding paws. The young animal in front of her perked its ears up, but it did not run away like it had when it first saw her.
There was a streak of orange directly across from Kiethara, only twenty feet away. Kiethara turned her head to follow the movement and, in the time it took her to make the small movement, it had already swerved through the trees and rounded the last that separated her from it. Some small part of her brain estimated the distance was covered in only three seconds.
The baby tiger had a mother, and she had arrived.
Before Kiethara could rise fully from the ground, the protective beast threw her off her cub with one massive swipe of her claws. She skidded in the ground, stunned, until her progress was halted by a nearby tree. The tiger roared in fury, crouched again to attack.
Instinctively, her shield flew up. The sudden burst of radiating gold spooked all three of them, the two tigers fleeing.
As soon as they were out of sight, Kiethara let out a groan. She could feel the three shallow cuts on her neck begin to sting, but she decided to ignore them.
“Exploring my own forest and I get attacked by a tiger! Brilliant,” she muttered to herself. Her shield disappeared as she pulled herself to her feet.
She had half a mind to run right around and head back to her own, safe little world. But there was something that kept her from turning away, some sort of pull that drew her to explore just a bit further. Perhaps it was the sudden excitement, but she suddenly desired to continue.
If she continued straight, she feared that she might run into the vicious tigers again. So instead she turned to the left. As she walked on, she noticed another change in landscape. Patches of grass splotched against the soil, as well as wild flowers.
It became enchanting. Suddenly, the trees grew larger, and the moss hung in sweeping curtain from the thick limbs, creating an archway for her to walk through. A canopy of life.
Kiethara entered paradise.
Paradise was the only word that could possibly describe the huge meadow she stumbled into as she pushed a screen of vines out of her way. It was at least three times the size of her clearing, but a thousand times more beautiful. Every inch of the ground was covered in bonny flowers; there was every flower present that Kiethara had ever seen. Some of these species didn’t even belong here; just as Kithara grew her roses not from a bush but from the ground, these variations did the same. This led her to the only logical explanation: this meadow had not been created by nature, but by a guardian. By magic.
The power of the guardian had certainly fashioned a masterpiece. Each individual flower radiated its own beauteousness, as though each one had been created by hand with the most careful and loving precision. They shone, they danced, they stunned—each petal was illuminated by a kiss from the sun. The colors that speckled the intensely green grass and shamrocks ranged from a luscious red to the most brilliant of blues. There were flowers of the purest white and the most vivid purples. Blinding yellows contrasted with soft pinks. Ravishing oranges were the rarest, but they contributed to the clearing just as much as the other colors did.
One, lonely tree stood bravely in the ocean of flowers, tucked neatly into the northeastern corner. The tree was resplendent, a cherry blossom work of art that stood statuesque against it surroundings. The blossoms portrayed a peaceful atmosphere as they swayed in the breeze, slowing the mind, making her…drift.
The smell of the meadow hit Kiethara almost as hard as the sight of it had. In was intoxicating, practically invigorating, and it sent her thoughts swirling in its perfume. The blooms pumped their aroma into the air, creating new fragrances as they mingled with their neighbors. The most potent scent was definitely that of the cherry blossom tree, although it was not without competition. The sweet smell of the roses. The pleasant whiffs of the tulips. The gentle bouquet of the baby’s breath. The strong odor of the lilies. The delicious perfume of the gardenias. The scents combined created a fragrance so powerful that it swept her breath away.
Kiethara unconsciously stepped forward, sending up a swirl of fallen petals. It reminded her of the ashes of the burnt forest…but the reminder didn’t remain there for long. Currently, she was enchanted and enthralled by the scenery in front of her and everything else was easily dismissed.
“Aaron,” she whispered aloud into the heavily scented air. “It’s beautiful.”
The Spirit of Aaron appeared besides her. His light had a dazzling effect on the meadow, sending its beauty into an even finer perspective. It even startled a few bees off their perches, and they buzzed off lazily, drunk off the perfumes.
“My mother?” she gasped, feeling a rippling sensation of shock in her chest, as per usual at the mention of her mother.
“Mm,” Aaron murmured, sounding distant as he thought of the memory. “Your mother found this field when she was just sixteen. She always had this…creative drive, and when she found this mundane field, she couldn’t leave it as such. So she embellished a simple clearing of grass with every flower she could think of. In the corner, there, she added her favorite tree for a much needed bit of shade. She was so proud of herself when she showed her own mother.”
“My…my mother’s favorite tree was a cherry blossom?” she asked, trying to hide the desperation to learn more about her mother by sounding nonchalant.
“Yes, and I believe her favorite flower was a rose. White.”
Kiethara’s eyes lit up. Even before this detail had been illuminated, she had always considered the white rose to be her favorite flower.
Finally, Kiethara turned her eyes away from the meadow and towards Aaron. There was something different.
It was very subtle, yes, but Kithara was one to be observant. Aaron had always had a strong, full light that could match with the suns. She never had housed a doubt in its strength, never once thought that it could deviate from being nothing but the brightest.
However, the Spirit of Aaron was dimmer by a miniscule amount. His human figure remained, but his light did not hurt her eyes as much as it did. It was no significant change, but enough. As though the sun was setting in the sky, inch by inch.
“Aaron, your light…?” she asked, a little confused.
“What about my light, Kiethara?” he asked.
The way he said that derailed her for a minute. It was so calm, so innocent. As if he hadn’t noticed any changes himself. Certainly he had to have noticed himself…?
“It’s just…” she trailed off again.
“I don’t understand,” he said. His tone was maybe too innocent.
“It seems dimmer,” she finally managed.
“How can you tell?” he asked. The atmosphere around him became irritated quickly.
“I just noticed,” she replied, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe your eyes are just getting used to my light, hmm? Have you considered that?” he snapped back.
“No—” she began.
“Then enjoy the meadow. Good day,” he said stiffly. He left.
What was that all about?
She looked out towards the meadow again and sighed in the essence of her mother.
