“I wish to live in the trees,” Lillie said while she stared at the giant cedar trees. We were sitting together in the meadow, relaxing on the blanket as usual. The cloth napkins lay nearby, left with only a few crumbs within the folds; our shoes sat idle near Lillie’s basket. There was a drizzle of rain before I had arrived, filling the spring air with freshness that felt rejuvenating. Lillie’s blanket was woven with thick wool, sufficiently protecting us from the dewy grass. I noticed she had not brought any projects or books that day; she only brought food to share with me. I glanced at her hands, empty for the first time, but appeared rough and scarred as she simply rested them her lap.

“Why? What is in the trees?” I asked and lifted my eyes to gaze towards the forest.

“It is not what is in the trees, but rather the view I long for from up in the trees,” she replied, then turned to look over the cliffside. Her eyes and mind seemed far from where we were, unusual for her since she usually spoke clearly and kept her eye contact very direct.

“This is a great view,” I said, and turned to face the cliffside as well. There was a steep drop from the edge, overlooking the ongoing forests and valleys below where I often flew high above in the skies and dove down to hunt in the rivers. There were no settlements of forest dwellers anywhere past the cliffside, only some farms on the other side of the mountain where I usually avoided flying. As a Teragane, I kept my distance from Lillie’s kind, as instructed. The mountain range was covered in white summits, and the greenery across the landscape was blossoming in its spring glory. The soft white and purple colors of spring and the misty air created a sense of tranquility. I had flown over the area countless times, often in awe of the natural beauty of the landscape. However, my view from the meadow was by far my favorite.

“It is all so far away. The trees are here,” Lillie said, and moved her head again to look at the looming trees. Then, she stood up and walked towards the giant cedar forest and I followed her, curious at what brought her attention suddenly to the trees. She walked solemnly, unlike her usual self, as if she were stuck in a dream-like state that I could only observe as an outsider. As we approached the forest, the immense size of the trees dawned on me. I began to feel small and miniscule. Still, we continued to walk towards the giants of nature. It was our first time talking about trees; she never seemed to be interested before. She was very different this year.

Lillie stopped at the base of a cedar. The hue of red was a strong contrast against the green grass, but the dark, green color of the pine needles complimented the grassy area of the meadow. Lillie’s paling complexion and lack of vibrant undertones became noticeably stronger as I watched her look up at the massive trunk grounded before her.

“Look how amazing this tree is!” Lillie exclaimed. The enthusiasm in her voice returned as she attempted to wrap her arms around the trunk of the tree. The base, being larger in proportion, made her look tiny in comparison. I came closer to her, curiously observing her behavior, wondering if she were in her own dream and had nearly forgotten I was standing nearby. She was resting her head on the tree, closing her eyes, and smiling, her arms completely spread across the girth of the trunk. I placed my hand on the tree, near her hand, and looked at the bark intently, finding it simply part of nature and nothing of interest.

“It just fills me with happiness,” Lillie continued, and I slightly narrowed my brows. “I can almost imagine the tree having a heartbeat. I can nearly hear it.”

“You’re so silly,” I replied, using a phrase she often had said to me. I looked down at her, expecting her to laugh or scoff, but, instead, she spun around instantly, huffing her chest, and her eyes no longer resembled one stuck in a dream.

“Why? Why is it silly for me to be happy hugging a tree?” Her cheeks and pointed ears were vibrantly red as she scowled. I could feel my own cheeks and ears feeling warm, not out of anger, like Lillie, but out of embarrassment and bewilderment. She looked up at me with her fiery spirit, startling me as she was very much present in reality. I took notice of the fact I had grown taller than her, yet her shorter stature did not stop her from intimidating me as ferocity of emotions arose within her voice, especially as I stepped backwards and moved my hands to my side.

“It’s just a tree,” I said, and I darted my eyes away from Lillie’s angry glare.

“Yeah? And?” She huffed, tilting her head in aggravation. “It’s just a meadow. It’s just a mountain. It’s just another thing in our world that exists!”

For the first time, Lillie was angry with me, leaving me defenseless of how to respond. I had seen her angry before, but this time her heightened emotion was directed at me, and I felt nervous. My flushed cheeks grew hot, and my heart beat fast as I felt Lillie’s eyes pierce through me, somewhat wishing she were still stuck in her dreamy state just moments before.

“Okay,” I said, and stepped backwards again, feeling my wings twitch and I scratched my chin. Lillie looked back at the tree and huffed a deep snarl and started to climb.

“I just want to climb this tree and be happy!” she yelled. Her nimble fingers found holding spots in the crevasses of the red bark. She maneuvered her way up slowly, grumbling to herself. I helplessly watched, feeling bewildered by her attitude, changes in different emotions, and I slightly gaped my mouth as her figure continued upwards like a young squirrel first learning to climb. As she ascended, I realized that if she fell, she could get hurt, unlike a young squirrel who had the dexterity to withstand such high impacts. I did not want Lillie to fall nor get hurt, and felt a sense of fear overwhelm my anxious heart. She was seething with anger, more disgruntled than I had ever seen her before. Why? I did not know at the time, nor was I certain how to find out.

When I was a younger child, I had learned to climb trees, but smaller types with lower branches. I learned, like many other children, to climb from limb to limb. It was customary for Teraganes to learn how to maneuver through the terrain of the forest, although we had wings. Hiding in trees was useful when it came to our survival. These giant cedars, however, did not have lower branches to mount, only immense trunks and deep crevasses. If I were to ascend a cedar tree, I would need to jump up and use my wings to lift myself, and, if I fell, I could, once again use my wings to decrease the impact of unseen forces of nature. As I watched Lillie, the nervousness welling in my heart could not calculate how she could survive a fall, and I could sense she was running out of energy. Her rage was dwindling, and her arms began to shake. Her foot slipped, startling me, yet she kept her tight grip and continued to move upwards.

“Lillie!” I shouted. “You’re going to fall!”

“Shut up!” she yelled back. I decided to fly up to her although I often did not fly around Lillie. When we were younger, I sometimes flew around when teasing her, holding a book from her reach—something menacingly obnoxious. But I always returned to the ground when I noticed she was no longer enjoying the childish behavior. As we grew older, I was growing taller and bigger than her. I knew that I had strengths and freedoms that she did not have. I put away my childish behaviors to respect Lillie and our differences. However, now, as Lillie’s hands shook and her feet slipped, and I could in fact theorize she had no way to protect herself from sudden impact, I felt that this was a reasonable time to use my strength and ability to fly.

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“Lillie!” I shouted as I flew towards her. “Let me help you down!”

“Leave me alone!” she shouted. As I gained closer proximity, Lillie’s foot slipped again, and suddenly she completely lost her grip. She fell right into my arms. The sudden impact stunned me, and we both fell to the ground. I was weaker than I had anticipated, not considering the extra weight I was putting on my wings. I could not hold Lillie up, and I fell onto my back, crushing my wings. Lillie fell right on top of me, her weight causing me to feel winded. I gasped for air, and my chest throbbed with pain.

“Sable!” Lillie cried and spun off me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Lillie was leaning over me, stroking my face as I tried to breathe. Tears welled in her eyes as she continued to apologize.

“I’m fine,” I grunted and leaned forward, wincing in pain and heavily breathing through my teeth. My torso felt heavy, my wings felt bruised, and my lungs gasped for air. As Lillie held my neck while I sat up, she kept apologizing, seemingly scared as she looked at my disoriented self. I hardly knew how to navigate all the changes in her emotions.

“You don’t look fine! Oh! I’m so sorry!” she muttered.

“I’m fine, really,” I said through my clenched teeth. I loosened my jaw as I slowly regained control over my breathing. The pain began to subside, and I stood up as carefully as I could. I shook off the feeling, allowing my dark feathers to ruffle. Lillie wiped her tears, attempting to keep herself from fully crying. She combed through my wings and dusted me off, pulling sticks and pine needles off me. Her fingers were gentle against the feathers, only slightly pulling where sticks had been lodged in between, and a shiver ran down my spine, which triggered more pain to surge through my muscles. I hadn’t fallen since I was a youngling, nor roughly played with another Teragane, and although the pain felt familiar during my early years of training, the pain in my heart was completely foreign.

“Sable, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so stupid.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not being stupid. I’m fine. It’s not my first time falling like that. Nothing is broken.” Lillie continued to brush me off, sniffing abruptly and rubbing her reddened nose. My body felt horrible, but my heart felt worse. Lillie was in more pain than me, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Normally, I could just say something silly or ask her a question to get her mind off her troubles. I wanted her to be happy again; I didn’t want her to be angry or sad. But it didn’t appear that anything I would say could erase whatever misery she was enduring within the dream she seemed to be caught up in.

I just wish she could escape her miserable life already.

After Lillie was satisfied that I was, in fact, fine, we sat down together again on our blanket spot and for a very long time we sat in silence. Summer was coming as the air shifted into the warmer season. The soft white and purple colors of the spring flowers were fading, while the yellow and pink summer flowers began to bloom with vibrance. The grass was getting taller, and the bees were becoming more numerous. But, for the first time, Lillie stayed unhappy, regardless of my reassurances or efforts to cheer her up, and her sadness overwhelmed me. I knew that ever since she had started her job before last winter, her demeanor had drastically changed. Although I understood basic concepts of survival and sustaining oneself through life, I knew that her culture had a very different way of providing security, hence why working was important to her. Or, so I theorized.

“I think you deserve to be happy,” I finally said as a soft breeze blew through my hair. Lillie forced a weak smile while looking at her scarred hands. “If living in a tree would make you happy, then I would visit you in the trees.”

A small tear ran down Lillie’s round cheek, but she did not respond. I felt a prick of pain on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, even though the breeze blowing through the grass was warm and the air was humid from the previous rain. For once, I felt uncomfortable in Lillie’s presence. Her silence felt unnerving, and I shifted into sitting with my legs crossed as my hands began to twitch. I tugged on the ends of my sleeves, hoping to settle my nervousness, but my wings fluttered, and pain surged through the aching muscles. She stayed silent as she began packing up her supplies, folding the blanket, and stuffing the napkins into her basket, and I knew that it was time to say goodbye. She would return to the forest, and I would return home on the mountain peak. For the first time, I realized that I did not want to say goodbye—not while Lillie sulked with unknown reasons of sadness. I didn’t want her to leave like this—no, not like this.

But I did not know what to do. I was clueless. I felt powerless, and my eyes darted as I helplessly watched Lillie secure her basket onto her back.

“Sable,” Lillie said while looking down at her shoes that appeared to be too small for her.

“Yes?” I responded, anxious about what she would say next.

“I cannot meet so often again. But I will come to the meadow every full moon.”

What? Why? Why so less? Is it something I did? Is she angry with me?

“I have too much work, but I still want to come,” she said, as if she could read my mind. Lillie looked at me, but her green eyes did not sparkle, not even while the sun cast its glorious rays against her face. Her once chestnut-brown hair was becoming whiter every time I saw her. As her sadness overtook her demeanor, her skin was a stagnant gray, void of its stormy hues of cool undertones. Lillie’s rosy complexion was hardly noticeable without any exertion of her playful emotions.

“Then I will see you every full moon,” I replied.

“See you then,” she said while turning around to leave, slowly lowering her head and her fading, loose hair drifted over her face. I reached out and grabbed her arm, causing her to pause. I moved close to her and wrapped my arms around her waist, hugging her with a stiff embrace. She melted into my arms, wrapping hers tightly around my torso, her head resting against my chest. Her warm embrace eased my rigid composure. The warmth of her body felt comforting, yet her sorrow felt excruciating.

For a few moments, I let my heart ache for Lillie and her sadness; I let her grief overcome my mind and heart. Suddenly, a tear rolled down my face. For the first time, I cried over someone. Never had I felt so deeply connected with another, not even my own caregivers. Not even my colony members. I remembered the moment my parents left me the winter I entered my tenth year. They said goodbye and took off into the cloudy sky as spring slowly emerged, and yet, even then, I didn’t shed a single tear.

However, with Lillie, the natural sensation of grief being shared flushed my skin, and the warm tears streaming down my cheeks felt odd but comforting to know that I wasn’t completely heartless. I only wanted to take away her pain and her sorrow for I hated seeing her fade away. The young girl I had formed a deep connection with suddenly caused my heart to flutter in ways I had never thought possible. Yet, the grief was nearly unbearable while I held her in my arms.

I stood in the meadow and watched Lillie’s figure slowly disappear into the forest. Over the years, I never paid much attention to her departure or thought about the sorrow of her goodbyes or our separation. That day was different. As the tears rolled down my face, my heart ached, and my chest felt heavy. The pain from the fall had subsided, but the pain from Lillie’s sadness felt agonizingly worse. I did not want to see her leave unhappy. I did not want to wait until a full moon for our next visit. I wanted to see her happy, see her often, and watch her laugh and share her food. I wanted all these things, but I had no idea how to achieve these desires. I had no idea how to help Lillie erase her sorrow or make her happy again. I had no idea how, but I wanted to help. I wanted to see her smile again. I wanted Lillie’s fiery spirit to return to its full glory.

“I must help Lillie,” I said out loud. “I will help her climb the trees so she can live there happily. I will help her find her joy again.”

I must help Lillie, whatever that looks like.