THE CART rumbled to a stop a little more sudden than the driver intended, given the sharp curse and the rattling clatter from the back of the cart as boxes and baskets suddenly tumbled over one another. The way the cart shuddered forward and then back, knocked Tlila off from her cozy little nook in the shadows of one whicker basket and wooden barrel combination. She rolled into the edge of the cart itself, face smacked right into the wood, and the whicker basket that blocked the sun toppled right down on top of her.
Tlila grunted awake from the tumble, thankful that her wings were folded down as she pushed herself away from the cart edge, and then shoved the blessedly empty basket off of her with a short, "Rude," under her breath. Sleep muddled she began the tough climb out of knocked over baskets, boxes, and firm in-the-way barrels. Lucky she wasn't buried deep, and the cartmaster seemed a bit preoccupied arguing with someone so he didn't notice when she eventually breached the surface with a dramatic gasp. With a flutter of wings Tlila took herself into the air, more than greatful at whomever decided to start an argument with the cartmaster since it allowed her to escape with little fear of some Lahlan man realizing a glowing ball had taken residence among his goods. The nap was decent, she allowed herself to admit, as she stretched her arms and yawned heavily once in the air. Now though she needed to figure out just where the cart had taken her because a nap had not actually been in the plan.
The sun was already high up in the sky; it beat down with a near merciless heat. Only half a dozen places in the valley had this level of heat, and sure enough Tlila could see the rising peaks of the Jakr Mountains, and the hint of the Fire Plateau off in the distance. The base of the mountains meant either one of the smaller villages throughout Lahlya, or given how easily Tlila could see the Fire Platea, more than likley she was brought to the town of Xhuia. Given the darker hues to the buildings and the arrangements of Night Blooms that looked like pale, budding shrubs in the light of the sun Tlila was definitely in Xhuia. Up further along the Mountain was the Well of Keshr, guarded by the Tiatsi Flolta. Tlila debated heading up to speak with her for a moment; she'd have at least some decent gossip about the Jakr and maybe news from Xuana. Her wings fluttered at her back as she landed on the edge of a lamppost and stared up at the Jakr Vekrana before she turned her head away and looked closer toward the eastern edge of the town.
If Tlila remembered right Anle and Anla would have their small little shop of found trinkets from the Wood. It was a modest sort of thing, with no real covering except that which Anle and Anla decided to grow around themselves, and they kept the shop on the far eastern edge of the town to try and avoid what the Jakr considered to be their territory. Out of all of the forest children, Anle and Anla were far more reasonable to deal with, and they at least liked to hear what news Tlila had of the world outside of the forest. Tlila darted forward, over the cart-master and the argumentative Lahlan and then down the path of the road. She ducked and dodged between a few low-hanging signs that signaled a few on the edge of town businesses before she banked down a side road and thenpast a few short, houses. She could already see the way the village drew out to meet the plains of the valley, and the edge of the forest. Settled smack between the two were the distant forms of Anle and Anla.
One lone tree stump that already budded with new growth sat next to an old, moth-eaten blanket that Anle and Anla used as their service table. Trinkets and various odds and ends were piled on the blanket, and they included anything and everything from rotted clothing to bits of jewelry that they found from deep within the Loslikht. Tlila scrunched her nose at the bits of rotted cloth the two Firkhi held on offer--she was certain that same bit of cloth had been presented on their blanket-stall for near a decade now. She honestly doubted anyone would ever claim it; especially given that the Firkhi had taken it from the bones or the corpse of its former holder. Lahlan's probably didn't understand why the Firkhi removed the affects of the dead anyway, and rotting cloth made it clear that it came from something most-likely dead. Jewelry at least the Lahlan's could pretend were just lost, and so their loved ones might one day return--Tlila shook her head of the thoughts. What did it matter in the end, really? Anle and Anla would do as they will, as would any of the other Firkhi.
Above the blanket rested a canopy made out of leaves, tightly bound sticks, and reed grass. It helped shade the blanket from the heat of the sun. Atop the canopy rested two familiar Pixie-kin shapes--Kloli and Ftuta. By the time Tlila could see the wings flutter at Kloli and Ftuta's back, the other two Pixie-kin noticed her and took to their air. They darted across the distance between Tlila and the canopy, both laughing freely as they came to an abrupt stop in front of her. Kloli and Ftuta flew circles, bright grins on their pale-green faces. Kloli flew around Tlila while Ftuta flew over and under her. They chattered a mile a minute and forced Tlila to hover in the air as they asked question after question in quick succession.
"You're back, you're back!"
"Do you have news? How are the Lakfir?"
"What of the Pixie-kin? The water ones?"
"Anything new with desert ones?"
"Has the silly water-girl gotten into trouble again?"
"Have you seen the sky-children?"
"How long has it been?"
"Are you going to stay long this time?"
"You should see the Donsra!"
"Come on, come on!"
Tlila let the two chatter while a slow smile came across her face. When they finally began to slow she darted forward and grabbed Kloli into a headlock, running her fist into the pale-pink of Kloli's hair. Ftuta flung himself into Tlila's side in response with a joyful laugh and together the three of them tumbled feet over crown until they landed on the ground in a heap in front of Anle and Anla's shop. Tlila let go of Kloli to hug Ftuta back, rubbing her fist into his own pale-pink hair before they piled onto her and clung like the children at heart they were.
"I've missed you two," Tlila said fondly as they clung to her tightly. She hugged the both of them back and then tapped them on the shoulders with a short, "Now let me up! Let me up!"
"But you're gonna leave again," Kloli said into Tlila's chest.
"Don't leave again, please!" Ftuta begged. "You were gone so long this time."
Tlila tsk'd lightly and touched both of the younger Pixie-kin to the back of their heads as she told them, "I won't go on such a long trip again for a while, you two. Now let me up!" The two squeezed her tight one last time before they let her go and together the three of them took to the air. Ftuta and Kloli grabbed a hand of Tlila's each and proceeded to drag-fly her over to Anle and Anla. Tlila tilted her head at the sight of the blooms in Anla's hair--they were brighter than she last saw them, and seemed to be pollinating nicely if the bees that fluttered about her hair were any indication.
"There's a sapling in the forest now," Kloli said with a giggle. "It grows so nicely!"
Tlila blinked, and her eyes went wide as she looked to Anla. She shook off the hands of Ftuta and Kloli and darted right into Anla's face who smiled with dimpled cheeks and all cherubic as Tlila reached out a hand to feel at the blossoms.
"It took root?" Tlila whispered, fingers soft as she stroked them along the petals. She looked to Anla who looked in her direction--the Firkhi couldn't quite see the Pixie-kin clearly, the haze of their glow obscured most of their shapes from even close companions.
"Yes," Anla said, lips pulled a bit too-wide and teeth sharp and pointy with pleasure. "They've taken root well. Their trunk is thin, but they grow quite strong."
Anle edged next to his partner, eyes bright and wide as he reached out and grasped Anla's hand. "It'll be a few years yet before they can Fruit," Anle said, "but we will have another fully grown Firkhi in the Grove if all goes well."
Tlila felt her wings droop slightly, and she lost a bit of her height in the air before she decided to land entirely on the edge of the stump that Anla sat upon. She let go fo the bloom as she did so, instead stared up at them with a tightness in her chest. She'd not once missed when a sapling took root in the Grove. It had always been something of an honor and a point of pride to be there for every day a new sapling took root and began to grow, when they transitioned from being a mere seed into a new life--a new member of the Forest. She had been gone from the Grove for too long; the past few years of travel and gossip, of learning about the world beyond the forest's edge had taken a toll Tlila thought she would never face. She'd known that Anle and Anla's sapling would take root too--she'd been there when the seed had first begun to show signs of life nearly a decade past.
"I missed it," Tlila said, voice tight as she swallowed heavily. None of the news she had was worth this.
"Don't say that, Tlila!" Kloli fluttered into Tlila's face, eyes wide in surprise. "You were doing important things. Everyone knows that!"
"No one is mad at you for missing this!" Ftuta nodded sharply as he darted up behind his sister. "We know not all Pixie-kin can be there for a sapling's first root."
Tlila looked to the two Pixie-kin, the youngest of the entire group that lived and bonded with the Firkhi. They were old enough to remember the end of the Forest-That-Was and the birth of the Loslikht in its place, but young enough not the realize how important missing a moment such as this was to Tlila. She'd not once missed a sapling taking root. She never intended to miss it; the Donsra had asked her though, so bright eyed and hopeful for Tlila to go out into the world and see the other Tiatsi, to ask for news and hints as to the state of things. The Firkhi's Foundling had grown by leaps and bounds at that point; they were aging fast, and soon the Donsra knew the boy would need to face the world at large. They couldn't keep him hidden in the forest forever, not if what Ferle hinted was to come. So Tlila took wing and traveled, visited the Tiatsi and the Pixie-kin and gathered bits of news and information, gossip and hints as to what in the world the FIrkhi needed to know. She'd left despite knowing that Anle and Anla's seed had begun to shown signs of life, that it would become a sapling and would have its first root soon.
"We understand," Anle said, voice firm and tinged with a bit of the vibration, a bit of the Old that Tlila snapped her gaze straight to him. He held tight to Anla as he looked at her, face now blank despite the smile affixed to his lips. His eyes positively glowed with the light of green, growing things as he looked at her. "We know you were tasked with bringing us knowledge. You've done this before, and with the boy we expected another expedition soon into the world. While we hoped it would not last as long...."
"...we knew it might," Anla continued. Her eyes were just as bright as Anle's. "We knew there was a chance you would not return. We understand...and hope you will visit them even though their first root has already been grown?"
Tlila swallowed, then nodded quickly. "Yes! Yes, of course I will!" She shot back up into the air and darted right into Anle and Anla's faces, searched their gaze. "And I refuse to miss when they Fruit. I will be there for that."
"We know," the two said together, and they smiled with too much teeth and forest bright eyes. "Now," and Anle continued speaking here as he let go of Anla's hands, and his face resumed the more cherubic appearance with childish delight and a more acceptable smile, "tell us what you've learned?"
Tlila bounced back in the air, laughed, and began to regale them with the gossip of the Tiatsi.
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A few Lahlan's traveled to Anle and Anla's humble little space and traded seeds and trinkets for bits of jewelry the Firkhi found before they decided to end their day and carefully wrapped up each of the odds, ends, and cloth into the blanket with gentle care. Anla made sure reach piece of jewelry, each piece of cloth, was meticulously and carefully put away while Anle worked to take down the leaves, reeds, and bundles of sticks that made up the canopy they had to shade themselves. Once everything was wrapped and bound and put away did the two Firkhi with their bundles, and the three Pixie-kin at their backs, make their way back into the forest. As they left the plains and valley that was Lahlya, and the town of Xhuia in the shadow of the Jakr Mountains, the sun had just begun to dip down; their first step into the trees of the Firkhi Forest plunged the world into twilight.
The first few trees at the forests edge were thin, with their canopy leaves not quite thick enough to fully block out the fading sunlight. Small beams filtered through and highlighted patches of earth and dead leaves shed from the changing of seasons. Then the trees began to grow thicker, closer, wider at their base and the leaves began to limit even those small beams of light. Small mushrooms peaked up from the earth or along the trunks of various trees; they were simple, white little things that thrived in the growing darkness, in the growing dampness of the forest around them. Eventually the trunks became thick enough that Anle and Anla were forced to weave through the forest with no clear path, although they clearly knew the way as well as any other Firkhi. The small beams of fading sunlight had turned into pinpricks, and the mushrooms here grew with lichen, and a few of the bushes along the edge of several trunks had faintly glowing berries to help light the way.
Anle and Anla made their way light-footed through the trees, with Kloli and Ftuta and Tlila flying, ducking, and weaving between low-hanging branches and mushroom piles. Ftuta and Kloli would grab at anything that caught their eye and bring it to Anle and Anla to inspect--piece of broken, dead leaves, a small glow-berry, a flower that somehow bloomed in the damp darkness that was this part of the forest--before they would dart off like children. The Firkhi themselves didn't need much light to traverse through the forest, the pupils of their eyes wide and near encompassing as they stepped around exposed roots in the earth, and avoided pitfalls made of decaying leaves. Their Pixie-kin companions and the faint glowing berries were all the light they needed to continue to travel completely unimpeded, and here in the darkness the Pixie-kin definitely glowed.
In the sun of the daylight it was muted, turned into nothing more than pale light that encircled them that most beings saw. Here in the darkness the lighter parts of their skin shined like its own internal light, only broken in pattern from a few dark spots that turned their light into a pattern of swirls and whirls which cast odd shadows on the trunks of trees and across various leaves as they flew about the Firkhi in their midst. Tlila wasn't as carefree as her younger kin, but she did twist and turn and make a game out of flying recklessly through the branches and plants in the area, the faintest of laughs in the back of her throat as she felt the calling of Home in her breast. It made her feel light, lighter than anything she'd felt these long few years of travel by herself and seeing places that she normally would not have visited except for once every few decades or so.
After a time traipsing through the forest the trees began to thin once more and with twinkling stars in the sky and a moon slowly rising the Firkhi and Pixie-kin began to enter the Grove. Here the trees were thickest, for they were Firkhi Trees and therefore Old and Intelligent in the ways that most trees actually weren't. There were maybe a dozen that lined the edge of the Grove, three at each cardinal point, the Watchers who kept an eye for any potential stranger to have stumbled this far into the wood. Anle and Anla waved to Jarle who gave them a brief nod, and then cocked his head at the sight of Tlila among them.
"Who is this?" Jarle leaned forward, ready to question the Pixie-kin he didn't recognize, when the lazy Pixie-kin behind him raised her head and then hissed a delighted laughter.
"Tlila!" Dleli darted forward, and Tlila darted to match her with a wide grin on her face.
"Dleli!"
"You're back, you're back!" Dleli said excitedly, that same hissing-laughter bubbling from her and Tlila saw the way her partner relaxed at the knowledge that it was another of the Firkhi's Pixie-kin that had returned. Not that Tlila had any Firkhi she was bonded too--even among her own she was a bit of an outlier. She preferred it that way.
"I'm back," Tlila said back, and Jarle whisteled to draw attention and both Pixie-kin turned toward him, although Tlila narrowed her eyes in thought as she leaned against Dleli who fluttered excitedly next to her.
"Tlila's back, Jarle! She's back!" Dleli said, utterly delighted given the way she near vibrated and how high a pitch her voice worked.
Jarle smiled back at her, gestured to his side and Tlila mourned the sudden loss of Dleli as she flew back to her perch and settled down just behind Jarle. The Firkhi said a short, "Welcome back, Tlila. Ferle will want to hear what news you have to share, so don't tarry too long."
For a moment Tlila said nothing, then she bobbed in place and spun herself in a circle with a short, "I won't!" and darted after Anle and Anla who hadn't bothered to stop for Jarle or Tlila's greeting of Dleli. Tlila knew where Anle and Anla resided in the Grove--she knew the location of every Firkhi within the Grove as a point of pride--and no doubt their sapling rested somewhere between them. A greeting between Pixie-kin was between Pixie-kin either way, and Jarle needed the confirmation of Tlila's presence by another Pixie-kin. Presumably he wanted to confirm who she was without Kloli and Ftuta as they were bonded to Anle and Anla who left the Grove every few days for Xhuia, and to most Firkhi this meant they were somehow less trustworthy.
Tlila disagreed; she thought Anle and Anla were rather clever and much more in tune with the world around them--but then for most of the Firkhi their entire lives were the forest and its occasional visitors. They were secluded in part by necessity, and in part by design, and Tlila wasn't even sure which came first anymore. After a moment she shook her head, rounded a corner, and flew to a stop surprised to see Anle and Anla had waited out of sight of Jarle. She bobbed in place for a moment, touched that they had chosen to wait after all. Not everyone waited for Tlila these days.
"Come on," Anla said, wide smile across her face. "You want to see our sapling, yes?"
Tlila hovered a second longer, then darted up next to them with a cheerful, "Yes!" because she did. She might've missed a milestone, but she was determined to greet the newest sapling to the Grove. She wouldn't forsake that, too.
The rest of the walk was rather peaceful. Anle and Anla's trees resided toward the second ring of large trunks. There were maybe eight Firkhi trees in total in their ring, each decorated with small glowbugs and glowberries and other little light sources from the forest around them. There were vines and woven reeds draped from branches like decorations, flowers that were carefully tended to around the thick roots that curled above the ground and made a gentle hollow that they Firkhi treated like homes. Anle and Anla were lucky; their trees resided a mere stones throw from each other, and their sapling appeared to have taken root close to them, one ring further in. Not many of the Firkhi that paired off were so close to one another; not many Firkhi paired off these days either way.
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Tlila darted around Anle and Anla when she saw the small sapling with it's young leafy growths and flew right close to its little trunk. She said a breathless, "Hello, little one," and watched the way its thin branches swayed in the slight wind. It almost seemed to reach for her before it settled still as Anla and Anle came close.
Anla stroked fingers along the edge of the saplings leaves and smiled softly. "This is Tlila," she said. "She is a Pixie-kin and a good friend."
"She watches out for us," Anle agreed as he reached to touch a branch. "She missed your first root as she was taken elsewhere, but she wanted to greet you properly now that she is back."
The young tree shook, slightly, and Tlila made her way closer until she could almost touch its branches. She didn't--she had more respect for new growths to touch without permission, and right now the sapling couldn't really give her permission for that. It was far too young and not ready for a strange Pixie-kin, just yet. Still she reached out, just a hairs breadth away, and said a soft, "May you grow strong and bear a wonderful Fruit, little Firkhi."
Anla looked to Tlila, then to the sapling. "Thank you," she said.
"We appreciate this," Anle agreed. "You should head to the Donsra soon."
Tlila backed away from the sapling and the warmth that curled in her chest; it had been too long since a Firkhi sapling had come to the forest. The last was just before the birth of the Loslikht. Tlila wondered if this meant good tidings for the Grove, that new growth such as this could actually come. She stared at the small tree for a moment longer before she turned away completely and looked to Anle with a short, "I plan to. We have much to talk about, them and I."
Anle nodded, and Anla reached out a hand to Tlila. She took the offer and dropped to stand upon the palm held out, head tilted to the side as she regarded Anla who seemed to struggle with something. She'd open her mouth, then close it a second later with a side glance to the sapling. After a second, with pursed lips, Anla turned from the tree and began to walk back toward the second ring where she and Anle's trees resided. Once they were a fair distance away Anla seemed to curl in on herself the slightest bit. It worried Tlila; she wondered what request Anla had for her.
"When you return from the Heart of the Grove," Anla began slowly, "can you stop by?"
Tlila frowned, but shrugged and said a chirpy, "Sure!" She didn't know why the request bothered Anla, it was simple enough really to agree to.
"We--that is the twins, Anle and I--have a gift for the Foundling," Anla said carefully. "The boy is near sixteen or thereabouts for Lahlan's. He cannot stay here much longer; we do not have the supplies and yet--"
"Ferle insists it is not time," Anle picked up for Anla, voice tight. "She still treats him as Firkhi, despite the fact he is clearly not."
"She treats him like her sapling," Anla agreed, a frown on her childish face. "It is not right."
Tlila sat down on the palm and scrubbed her hands over her face and through her hair. She said, quietly so that Ftuta and Kloli could not hear her from where they tumbled in the air behind them, "Nothing about the Foundling has been right since he arrived here."
"We know," Anle agreed softly. "But it is the will of Phyr1 that we care for him."
"Or so Ferle says," Anla grumbled. "How much I trust her words I do not know."
"Oh, hush," said Anle shortly. "Lest we draw Jarle's attention. You know how attached to her he is." Anla snorted and turned her nose up at the comment.
Tlila frowned and tilted her head back to regard the two Firkhi. She watched the way their ears dropped the slightest bit, how the fur seemed to fluff with the irritation she could hear in their voices. When she'd left there hadn't been this much tension, but then the Foundling had still been rather small then. At sixteen Lahlan's tended to be rather large in comparison to Firkhi; she wondered how tall this boy was. Was it his very clear not-Firkhi characteristics that upset Anle and Anla, or Ferle's insistence that the Foundling be treated as such and the length of time she'd kept him? Tlila bit her right lip before she asked, "Has something changed?"
"No," Anle shook his head, but Anla said a faint, "Maybe," at the same time. There was a moment, a pause where Anle looked to Anla and Tlila didn't know what was said between them. They communicated the way old couples did, silent with impressions and facial expressions in their own little language she couldn't understand. Then Anle sighed heavily and said shortly, "Ferle takes him to the Wood a lot. At least once a day, now."
Anla nodded. "He'll be in there for hours to days, too, Tlila."
Tlila went stiff. She asked, only slightly hesitant, "The Loslikht?" because she feared the answer. Surely they didn't mean to imply Ferle was leaving the boy there?
"Where else?" Anle grumbled.
"He comes out dazed and quiet," Anla said softly. "He speaks less and less now. And the Donsra..."
"...does nothing," Anle growled, and he looked furious. His brow was pinched and his hands curled into fists. The shadows grew long on his face, made his eyes impossibly dark as the fur on his ears stood up straight. He looked at Tlila and Tlila found herself not necessarily terrified but some part of her stilled at the sight.
"The Heart of the Grove has been rather closed off," Anla explained apologetically. "We cannot visit as much as we once used to. There are rumors that--that the Donsra may be sick. There hasn't been much in the way of new growth, and the songs grow fainter each day--the flowers a wilting."
Ice settled in her thinboned limbs; Tlila had never known the Heart of the Grove to be closed off. It'd always been a lively place of music and life. The Donsra took their duty seriously; they tended to the flowers and the growths, the green and growing things with a seriousness that covered a playful nature. They'd not once closed themselves off, not in recent memory--and Tlila didn't want to think of the time the Heart of the Grove had been closed before; it had been centuries since then and the memories were painful still. She shook herself, tried to still the way her heart began to beat erratically behind her chest. She couldn't still the way her wings fluttered at her back, or how her throat felt tight as if she couldn't let her breath escape--couldn't speak either except for a faint, soft, "I need to go."
Tlila's wings fluttered, sporadically, and then drew her into the air. She repeated, "I need to go," and Anle and Anla nodded, slowly, as Tlila backed away. She thought of blood on vines and the way the Donsra had looked, then. The way their eyes were clouded and the whispered, faint cry that they tried to hide. She remembered how her own limbs felt tight and wrong, too-small and too-contained and how everything hurt--how both of them hurt. She remembered the Vines in the Wood, in what is the Loslikht--she remembered--she didn't want to remember. Tlila darted back and repeated, "I need to go," and then turned and fled for the Heart of the Grove.
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Vaankehi watched as the black gathered, slowly, at the tips of their fingers only to fall and splash against one of the large roots of the tree. Their breaths came out with a faint wheeze, the tightness of the vines about their neck a constant reminder even as they watched the drop, drop, drop of the black from their fingertips. The black wasn't new to Vaankehi. They'd known the black was there, could feel it shift within their veins every time they pushed just a bit against the vines that wrapped around them--tied them--in place. There were days where they couldn't even move, couldn't raise their pipes to their lips and play the music to encourage growth and healing--couldn't force the black back, contain it down into the space that they'd done so ever since it first touched them so long ago. Those days had once been few and far between--although they slowly grew more, and more, and more as the years then decades and then centuries passed Vaankehi by.
They wheezed a faint laugh from chapped lips and leaned back against the trunk of the tree and stared up at its canopy with tired eyes. Things changed so quickly now; now Vaankehi could barely breathe without the vines restricting them. Now the black bubbled beneath their skin until it could find ways to slip out and touch the world around them. Now the music was harder and harder to play--it's effects lasted shorter and shorter lengths of time. Even the great tree that Vaankehi never left started to show the signs of the black. It's trunk slowly leached of life; the leaves tanned and branches almost dead. For the slow decay that had been effecting the forest for the past thousand years or so Vaankehi never thought it'd reach this far--or this fast. They couldn't even raise their hand to tug weakly at the vines around their neck as they squeezed and their already short breaths grew shorter.
"I know," Vaankehi said into the night air, voice a near whisper. Whether that whisper was from lack of air, or from lack of use Vaankehi didn't know anymore. They hissed as the vines tightened about their wrists, as thorns dug into their skin until they flinched back with a sharper, but no less quiet, "I know." Blessedly the vines loosened and Vaankehi slumped against the trunk, hands limp at their sides as they bowed their head and breathed unimpeded for the moment they were given. They stroked their hand along the edge of the trunk as best they could with weakened limbs even as they murmured a soft, "I am sorry. I tried my best."
Vaankehi tried their best for so long; they weren't surprised they would not be enough. They had always known they would not be enough. There was only one who could stem the tide and stop the black--stop the Mists--from creeping out of the Loslikht and taking the Grove and it was never meant to be Vaankehi--and yet, Vaankehi was the one bound here, to the tree, with the pipes and the music with the black in their veins spending far too long trying to stem the tide--far too long as a living dam to the inevitable. Tiredly Vaankehi shifted down, curled against two of the larger roots and closed their eyes. At least they could slow the spread by closing the Heart of the Grove. The Firkhi might wonder about it, and it would become apparent soon enough when new growths stopped growing; when old growths began to wither and flowers wilt--the Firkhi would know for sure then what had happened. For now though they could stem it; they could buy more time, more hope, more and more and maybe it would be enough. They wanted it to be enough.
They were so tired. For a moment they closed their eyes, let themselves sink into the roots of the tree and just be. They were tired. They wanted to rest. Was it not time that they could rest? Vaankehi drifted; they didn't know how long they drifted, but they drifted until they felt a disturbance at the edge of the Heart of the Grove. With a groan Vaankehi opened their eyes, felt the black shift along their face for a moment before they blinked to stare up at the stars. The Heart of the Grove was sealed against Firkhi and Pixie-kin, so who--
"Vaankehi?"
Vaankehi stilled, the choked back a bitter laugh. Of course; Tlila--only Tlila could ever get past their own barriers. Tlila who knew the forest just as well as them--who had lived for just as long if longer than them. Vaankehi wanted to cry, instead they lifted their head and raised a hand and felt the vines pull as they whispered hoarsely, "I am here."
Tlila fluttered into view, high in the branches above where Vaankehi hunkered down. Once upon a time Vaankehi would be up there with her, balanced on a branch with reed pipes in hand as they whistled a tune. Their legs would kick back and forth and they would lean back and near topple themselves over the edge of the branch, to Tlila's scolding and laughter. Tlila called out again, and Vaankehi raised their hand higher--it shook, and they watched as black flicked from their fingers for a second before they dropped it with a stark jolt. Their eyes snapped wide and they shifted upright, all tiredness suddenly wiped from their limbs as they shook and trembled.
"Vaankehi?" Tlila called out again and Vaankehi curled themself deeper into the roots and gripped at their arms. They dug their fingers in and tired to force the black down--Tlila could not know.
"Why are you here?" Vaankehi said, voice hoarse and whisper-thin, but it echoed in the Heart of the Grove with the slightest bit of what little Vaankehi had left in themselves. It would distract Tlila, hopefully keep her from their hiding place as they curled deeper into the roots of the tree. "Why have you come, Tlila?" They tried to make themselves sound bigger than they were, healthier, more robust--they knew it wasn't perfect. There was still that reed-like quality to their words, the breathless nature of them now that came with flighty air in their lungs.
They watched how Tlila fluttered around the branches before she eventually settled on one, hands upon her hips and her light near painful to look at. She stomped her feet against the branch and shouted into the Heart of the Grove, "Stop hiding, Vaankehi!"
Vaankehi shifted, crawled their way to the other side of the tree through the roots before they dared to speak again. "I am not hiding, Tlila. Why have you come to the Heart of the Grove?"
Tlila brust from the branch and flew quickly to the other side. Vaankehi ducked back into the roots before she could see them, breath coming in short pats from the exertion. They could feel the black at their eyes, now, gathered like tears. "I was told you closed this place off," Tlila said, words quick and harsh. "I was told you haven't interacted with the Firkhi for a while. Do you know what they are doing? Have you lost your mind?!"
"I--am aware," Vaankehi stuttered over the words the way only Tlila could make them. They were aware--weren't they? They may be closed off but they could feel the rest of the Grove--they knew the FIrkhi and what they did. They knew the location of every Pixie-kin--they had to. "Everything is as it should be; as Phyr commanded." They curled back into the roots and moved, as quick as they could, to another portion of the tree. They peaked out and saw Tlila flutter around; she refused to settle as she searched for them. Vaankehi grit their teeth and closed their eyes as they returned to the roots.
"Are you really going to give me that bullshit?" Tlila spat out, vitriolic in her condemnation of Vaankehi's choices. They couldn't help but flinch at her tone. "I don't care what nonsense that--what Shye2 has decided to do with the Firkhi or--or any of it! You never did either!"
"Haven't I?" Vaankehi asked, words slightly hesitant. "I am here, Tlila. Does that not mean I have care as to Hyr3 words? As to Hyr commands?" The more they spoke the more hurried thier words became; harsher and sharper and the more their breath began to leave them with it. "Am I not bound to the Wynd of Fayte4 that Phyr oversees? Has that not been my duty these long years?!" Vaankehi saw Tlila spin, then twitch back as if thier words had physically done her harm. They hunched down; the black bubbled beneath their skin and they could feel it pool in their mouth like oil and sickness. Vaankehi fought back the urge to gag from the taste.
"That's not--" Tlila stumbled over her words. "Vaankehi--"
"Donsra," Vaankehi rasped. "I am the Donsra, now." They haven't truthfully been anything but for a long while; only Tlila still spoke their name and they hurt to hear it. Before they longed for that familiar comfort; they loved it--loved that she remembered them before this but now--now they wished she forgot like all the rest. They didn't want to be Vaankehi anymore--not when they bled the black, not when it now choked them and pooled in their mouth, from their eyes--not when it bled from their wrists. Vaankehi curled and closed their eyes and breathed; they tried to ignore the taste of oil and sickness in their mouth.
For a while Tlila was silent, too. Vaankehi found themself thankful for it. The silence let them beat back the black; it let them gain back their breath. The way their heart twitched in their chest--the electric jump through their veins that made them flinch and their breath hitch--calmed somewhat in the quiet. That same tiredness pulled back on them. Vaankehi curled into the roots and breathed, slow and steady, until the vines eased on their restriction and their neck was black from bruises and not from the poison that lurked within them.
Tlila's voice came from nearby when she did speak again, words soft and gentled in a way that Vaankehi wasn't used to from her. She said, "You are Vaankehi. You will always be Vaankehi."
Vaankehi's breath hitched in their chest and they curled into a tighter ball. They wanted to fist their hands in the twisted and matted curls of their hair--but they didn't have the strength for it. Instead they let out a shaky breath and a whispered, half-choked response, "I have not been...for a long while, Tlila. We have fooled ourselves to think I am."
"Is it fooling ourselves to have hope?" Tlila asked, and she sounded close. She sounded too close. Vaankehi opened their eyes and felt their heart stop--she was there in front of them; a hairs breadth away too close for the black that curled just on the edge. With a sharp yell Vaankehi flung themself back. They watched as Tlila jerked in the air from surprise.
"No," Vaankehi said. "Stay away! Please, Tlila, stay away!"
"Vaankehi?" Tlila tried to flutter close, but Vaankehi yelled--loud and breathless and it hurt in their chest something fierce. They couldn't breath. They couldn't do anything but yell until the vines that wrapped around them grew spikes--until they split and twisted and lashed out at Tlila, forced her back and away from them. They could hear Tlila curse; hear her let out a sharp call of their name but they didn't stop until she was away, back to the entrance of the roots--safe. Safe.
The vines dropped to the ground and Vaankehi curled tighter into a ball even as hoarsely they said, "I am sorry."
Tlila settled outside the roots. Her little feet touched down and she crouched low; wings fluttered at her back the only sign of her nervousness. She looked at them, and they looked at her from the fringe of their hair, curled into the tightest ball they could make themselves. They wanted to peer at the Wynd of Fayte--to see the way it knotted around Tlila like a ball. Once that had been a comfort for them, to know how it tangled around her. Now they feared what they would see when they looked; would the knots be a safety net, or a noose that waited to steal the breath from Tlila's small lungs? Vaankehi waited, watched with wide eyes the color of bright violets.
"...you're dying," Tlila said so faintly that Vaankehi almost didn't hear it at first. They flinched a second later and curled back again. "You've been dying this entire time, haven't you?"
"I--"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Tlila asked--demanded, hands on her hips now and Vaankehi turned their gaze toward their knees. "I could've been--I could've been looking for an answer instead of--of believing that things were okay that you were--that you were fine. That you were going to be okay and--" Tlila trembled, her wings practically vibrating quickly at her back, as she cut herself of. She breathed in, then said with the faintest hints of a tremble to her voice, "How long?"
Vaankehi wrapped their hands as tight around their knees as they could. They mumbled, "Since the beginning," which was true.
Tlila shook her head, said sharply, "No," and Vaankehi wanted to cease existing with that. "You haven't shown any signs. You've been fine. How did this happen, Vaankehi?"
"It never left," they said, raised their head so that Tlila could see their eyes--could see the black that pooled there. "Just hidden, down. The music helped. The music always helped before...." They sighed, slowly uncurled and looked to Tlila with tired eyes.
Tlila carefully sat herself down; she kept her distance now and a part of Vaankehi calmed with that a little. As long as she stayed away the black couldn't touch her. She was too small now; it would consume her much too quickly. Vaankehi couldn't watch that happen. They refused.
"The Well Water helped before," Tlila said, thoughtfully. "Maybe it shall help again?" Vaankehi shrugged; they didn't know if the Well Water would do much now. The Loslikht had taken the Well into its depths long ago; a trip to it might take more dangers than Tlila was prepared to face.
"It is not safe to go there," Vaankehi eventually said. "Please, Tlila. Let me rest. Let it be."
Tlila bowed her head and clenched her little fists. "I am not so weak, Vaankehi. You don't deserve this--you never deserved this." Tlila bit her lip, then asked cautiously, slowly, "How much more time do you have?"
Vaankehi shrugged with a whispered, "I am tired, Tlila."
Tlila nodded, as if that told her everything it needed to. Vaankehi thought perhaps it did; she had always been so willful. They loved that about her--the way she would stand there ready to shout and defy the Wynd of Fayte even as it knotted closer and closer about her. They closed their eyes and breathed out slow and heavy to the sound of Tlila's wings at her back.
"I will make it right, Vaankehi," Tlila said. "I swear I will make it right." Vaankehi opened an eye and looked to her, looked at the small Pixie-kin and thought--she was never meant for such a tiny body, was she? She was never meant for this; they were never meant for this either. Neither of them--the roles twisted and reversed in a way that shouldn't have been but had because the Wynd of Fayte commanded so. Vaankehi there to dam the flow of the black, Tlila to be their anchor to the world. Tlila whom they tried to save from this knowledge. The failure burned in their gut and yet--yet they couldn't deny her presence was a comfort, a balm to them that they missed so much.
"I miss you," Vaankehi said, even as their eyes slipped shut. They thought of their little Pixie-kin, their partner in all but name and bond. "I miss you so much, Tlila."
Tlila's wings stilled then, and the last thing Vaankehi remembered hearing before they drifted off was the soft, kind words of, "Rest, Vaankehi. You've long deserved it," before the sound of Pixie-kin wings taking flight. Vaankehi breathed a sigh of relief when they felt the barrier around the Heart of the Grove return to the way it should be; closed from all the rest, the dangers trapped within as it should be. Comforted by Tlila; her return, her promise, and the request that they rest, Vaankehi drifted off. They were so, so tired after all.
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1 Phyr - pronounced like "pyre" - One of Three, Goddess of Wood and Forest, Chaos Amidst Order and Strife
2 Shye - pronounced like "shay" - Divine Pronoun
3 Hyr - pronounced like "higher" - Divine Pronoun
4 Wynd of Fayte - pronounced like "Wand of Fight" something only those with eyes of Divine can see; Phyr is its current known Guardian