Although it was still midday, I could easily detect the round shape looming in the sky in broad daylight. The full moon came, and I made my way to the meadow. Feeling inspired by my change of mindset, I began looking around the area for things I had perhaps never noticed before. I observed the forest tree-line; there was a small opening, usually where Lillie came from. It was dark, ambiguous, and intimidating. I preferred open areas, not dark spaces, unless it was the familiar cave of my home on the mountain or the other caves where my peers lived. I knew that she lived somewhere in the forest, but I began to imagine the type of home she would have. Was it carved in the trunks of the trees? Did she live in a cave, like me?

While I stared at the dark forest in a perched position on a rock, I noticed Lillie emerge. It had been an entire moon phase since I had last seen her. Her stormy complexion had diminished into a stagnant gray, something similar to a river during a lethargic drizzle. Her brown hair faded from its chestnut color, turning nearly all white. When she saw me, she began to run, causing my heart to flutter. I rose up and jumped off the rock and opened my arms wide, and she embraced me. Her head upon my chest felt wonderful, and I sighed deeply as the anticipation of finally seeing her again began to subside.

“I missed you,” she said, casting further warmth upon my body.

“I missed you too,” I replied. My throat felt weird, and I almost choked up attempting to speak, and I quickly grunted as I moved my arms to my side.

“Come, let’s rest and eat.” She smiled as she looked up at me with a tilted head, but then quickly turned as she removed the basket from her back. As usual, Lillie laid out the blanket, but I grabbed one end and helped her lay it onto the dewy grass. The natural-colored woven fibers were fading after being used so many times throughout the years. I sat down next to Lillie and stroked the material, curious to know if she had made it and where she had obtained the material. I asked her, and, while she prepared some slices of bread and bits of meat, making us mini sandwiches, she explained the process of blanket weaving.

As she spoke, I watched her hair dance in the cool breeze while small wooden beads woven into thin braids clinked together as her hair shifted. I noticed Lillie’s hair had grown long over the seasons and sat halfway down her back. Once she finished explaining blanket weaving, I asked her about the wooden beads braided into her hair, and she explained the process of bead-making, something she learned as a young child. She often moved her hands while speaking, but upon resting her hand on her earthy green skirt, I noticed her hands appeared cut up and her nails were brittle. I grabbed her hand and intently looked upon the deep grooves, then I looked up, sensing her surprise at my sudden physical movement.

“Lillie,” I said while staring deeply into her eyes, “has someone hurt you?” She abruptly pulled her hand away from me, then began nervously adjusting the brown scarf around her neck.

“No,” she mumbled. “It’s just from work. I use my hands all the time. It just happens.” Lillie quickly changed the subject, avoiding making eye contact. She started talking about the food shortages, the different kinds of soup her mother was making, and the plant seeds that she had gathered from the forest to grind into flour. I listened as usual but purposely refocused my observations on Lillie’s life and the problems she faced every day. Lillie, possibly discerning my change of attention, changed the subject once again.

“And how is mountain life treating you?” she asked while stroking the fibers of her scarf.

“Normal, as usual,” I replied as I intently watched her hands move along her skirt, then looked up at her face. “Actually.”

She looked over at me, finally making eye contact again. Her ears perked up in interest. I wanted to inform her about my plan to carry her up into the trees. I wanted to tell her about my strength training. I wanted to recount my different methods and examination of the bears. However, my throat felt dry, and an intuitive judgment forced me to hold my tongue. I did not fully understand, yet I had the quick realization of wanting to wait upon informing Lillie about my intentions. I did not want to disappoint her or give her false hope.

“Actually, I gathered my own honey for the first time,” I said with a smile. I could feel the tips of my ears grow warm, my cheeks felt hot, and my throat was still very dry. I darted my eyes away and looked down at my woolen trousers and noticed a little butterfly land upon my knee.

“You did?” she gasped and leaned towards me, her hand resting near my leg. “You, Sable, gathered something other than basic food for survival?”

“Hey, perhaps I need it for survival,” I said with a shrug, and suddenly Lillie pushed me with her arm. We began to chuckle in unison. She kept eyeing me while shaking her head. Her giggles increased, consequently leading into an outburst of laughter. I followed, our eyes meeting each other. Her laughter grew hysterical, and she slowly lowered herself backwards onto the ground. Tears ran down her cheeks and her chest heaved as she clasped her hands to her heart, then reached up to loosen the scarf around her neck. My heart pounded within my chest as I observed her, and I reached across the blanket and pulled out some grass and tossed it at her face.

Her eyes dilated as she lifted herself up, and she pursed her lips while her rosy cheeks deepened in color. She grabbed a handful of grass and threw it at me while rising to her knees. I grabbed a napkin and shot it at her. She stood up, pulled off her brown scarf from her neck, and aimed it at me. I caught it, then tossed it in her direction while I faltered backwards onto my rear. In rage, she lunged forward and tackled me, and I grabbed her waist, and flipped her over onto her back, allowing my wings to flutter behind me. I was gentle, unlike the bears I watched, or when I was younger and wrestled with a youngling from my colony. But something stirred inside my heart—unlike the bears, I’m sure.

I stared down at her as she lay flat on her back in the grass, and my hand was still around her waist, the other balancing me while resting on the ground as I kneeled over her. Her little nose wrinkled as she giggled, her smile rounding her cheeks, and the tips of her pointed ears reddened. She opened her eyes and stared back, and her smile began to slowly lower. The meadow grass bounced around her face, her fading hair intertwining around the grass. My heart fluttered as I noticed her lips for the first time.

Why do they look so delicious?

Scared of my new overwhelming thoughts, I plucked a clover nearby and tickled her nose. Lillie squinted, giggled, and then bent her knees as she moved her feet under me to push me off. I was bigger and heavier than her, but I noticed her legs rather strong, and I rolled over as she quickly sat up, heavily panting. I did not dare make eye contact until I steadied my breathing. My heart was beating fast, and my thoughts swirled. The overwhelming sensations filled my body, and I sat contemplating how pleasant it all felt.

I looked over and saw her scarf laying on the ground, but Lillie quickly moved over to it and grabbed it, then wrapped it around her neck. Her eyes darted as she looked at me—yet I couldn’t stop staring at her lips.

“What?” she suddenly asked as she adjusted the scarf, and I lifted my eyes. “What is so—what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” I replied, and turned to look away. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here, too,” she said. “Although you did mess up my hair.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Okay.”

Was she always this intriguing?

***

Keeping my goals a secret from Lillie was uncomplicated. My strength training was slow and non-impressive. I learned to intentionally add new practices and methods to help achieve my desired outcome. Originally, the catalyst for my idea was emotionally driven. Now, I could adjust my rational mind and instincts to build a new routine for myself. Guided by traditions and intuition, I could add my personal desires to my ritualistic lifestyle. With my constant physical activities, I felt less bored and more in control of my rampant thoughts, especially now that something new was stirring in my heart. I felt energized to direct myself and had a slight sense of freedom to make my own decisions. At least, in secret—for now.

“You must learn to be independent of the others on the mountain for survival,” my mother had said to me as a youngling. “But you also should not neglect your colony. Remember your training from me, your father, and the Sage. Look to the others as a reminder that you are not alone in this world.”

I didn’t quite understand my mother’s directive, but, over the years of my upbringing, I did feel a sense of community with the others—at times. Lillie’s friendship was drastically different, but she was also raised in an obviously connected environment. I did not interact with the other Teraganes on the summit very often, except for Cami, but even that was seldom and only initiated by my loneliness and curiosities. During the warm summer months, I decided to extend an open invitation.

“I hope you invited us because you found a plethora of fish,” Cami stated upon his arrival with the others. We met at my home on the mountain, and Cami seemed just as disgruntled as usual. However, the other two seemed apprehensive, but also interested in meeting with me.

“Not entirely,” I replied. “I wanted to show you all something.” I had originally tried inviting all the members of the colony of Hira, but I couldn’t find the others, so I was grateful that at least Cami, Deruk, and Kora had arrived. They seemed skeptical about the idea of meeting all together. Yet, they did come, after all, providing assurance that they must have similar curiosities as me—perhaps.

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“Follow me,” I said, then took off in flight from the edge of the tunnel entrance. The other three followed, and we created a V-flying formation, descending from the mountain. The air currents were favorable, and the sky had cleared once past the summit. The sun was hot, but, as we descended, it felt tolerable as the wind blew through my hair. The landscape below was blooming with life during the summer, scattering the scenery with vibrant colors of green and yellow. I directed our flying party to the river where the bears hunted. I landed at a far distance from the river itself, with the others directly behind me. I led our group of four through the trees towards the river. I pushed my finger to my lips, signaling to be quiet. The others expressed skepticism, darting their eyes at each other, but obeyed as we continued along stealthily. I could hear the bears splashing in the distance, one giving a loud roar.

“What?” Deruk whispered as he ducked behind a tree.

“He’s leading us to a group of bears,” Kora quietly exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shhh,” I beckoned, noticing Cami slightly flinch while the other two hesitated. “It will be alright.” I motioned for them to continue to follow. They crouched closer to the ground, dark wings folded, arms ready for attack or a quick escape. Yet, they still followed me. When we reached the riverbank, we were concealed by trees and thick brush. I jumped into a large oak tree and the others followed. In a staggered formation along the thick branches, we sat comfortably in the large tree. For some time, we perched silently, watching the bears play-fight, consume fish, and do as they wish.

Teraganes are silent observers. We could often sit for hours without ever speaking or even needing to move much. Apart from younglings in training with their parents, we are solo observers. It was a rare occasion to be gathered like we were at that moment in the tree—our dark figures lining the thick branches of the oak tree. It was not much, but it made my heart feel warm and happy. I did not dare break the silence; I only made side glances to observe my peers. Cami was slightly expressive, furrowing his thick brows as the bears displayed vicious tendencies. Deruk looked anxious; his black eyes darted, scanning the area, and tensing his jaw. He sat in a ready-to-flee position, hands gripping tightly to a branch. Kora was the only one who I could suspect was amused by the scene. Her position was leaned forward, intently observing the activities of the bears, with a slight curl in the corner of her lips. I smiled to myself as I inspected the others.

It’s been a long time since I was with my friends like this. I wonder what they do most days…

When the bears eventually left and I was certain that there was no danger, I flew down to the river. My three friends followed. With my bare hands, I snatched unsuspecting fish from the running water, gathering a few for myself. The others also hunted their fish. The rays of the summer sun were strong, and the heat was almost unbearable at that point in the day. I returned to the grassy riverbank, removed my boots, and rolled up my trousers. I smiled at my ankle tattoo, and I removed my sleeves, tossing them onto my boots. I only exposed myself for bathing, which was never done around others, but the sunshine on my skin felt invigorating. I then walked into the shallow waters of the river and scooped up a handful of water to drink. Without a word, Cami followed me, although he only removed his boots and tucked the trousers above his knees. Then Kora and finally Deruk made their way into the shallow waters without their footwear, keeping their sleeves intact.

It reminded me of our years as younglings, when our mothers would bring us to the different rivers to drink water and cool off in the summer heat. During those summers, for a few moments, our mothers allowed us to play together in the water. I had wrestled with other younglings too, but I was brutally reminded how after our tenth years, we were no longer encouraged to play in the rivers together—or anything, in fact. Yet, in our sixteenth years, living without parents, we were all gathered again, and a sense of community overwhelmed me as I gazed at Kora nearby.

“Hey Kora,” I snickered as she lazily patting water on her neck causing droplets to form upon her dark high-neck tunic. She looked at me curiously, her brown eyes widening. With one strong swoop, I swung my arm across the water surface, sending a splash of cold water onto her.

“Hey!” she yelled, then returned an even bigger splash. Deruk ran towards us, sending an alarming amount of water onto me. Cami came to my defense, and the four of us created a chaotic scene of water explosions using our arms, legs, and even wings. The river water extended high into the air as our dark wings and figures swung ferociously in a playful manner. I laughed menacingly. Deruk fought to defend Kora, and she hysterically laughed.

“Okay, okay!” Cami shouted as he stumbled backwards. “Stop! I’m soaking!” I halted the splashing yet still chuckled while breathing heavily. The freezing water sent a shiver down my spine, but it felt refreshing after standing in the sun for so long. Kora and Deruk stopped their attacks as well, and the four of us stood sopping wet and heavily breathing. Water dripped from the tips of my hair as my eyes darted from one to the other Teragane.

“That was fun,” Kora said with a smile and pushed her black hair out of her face. Deruk looked at her, then smiled as well as his sharp teeth glistened in the sunlight.

“Yeah,” he said as he also combed his dark hair back. “A little crazy, though.”

“It will take forever to dry now,” Cami complained as he marched out of the river. He spread his wings, vibrating them vigorously, sending droplets onto the grass. I followed Cami on to the grassy bank, also shaking myself dry. Although my clothes were made of lightweight wool, the water-play drenched them significantly. I completely removed my tunic by unfastening the bone buttons from the back, and then twisted my shirt, removing the water. Cami, who had only removed his sleeves, looked quickly at my bare torso.

“It’s easier to dry this way,” I said after noticing Cami’s widening eyes of surprise. He quickly slid his sleeves back on and began wringing out his trousers, turning his back to me. I looked down at my torso, noticing the curves of muscles starting to form. I put my partially dry tunic back on, feeling elated at the progress of my strength training. I glanced over at Kora and Deruk. They were quietly conversing while still standing in the river. Kora twisted the end of her shoulder length hair, similar to how Lillie did when she was fully engaged in our conversations. Deruk spoke animately, as if he was trying to impress her.

Hmmm. Interesting.

“Hey, you two love birds!” I called out to them while waving dramatically. Deruk glared at me, and Kora blushed, tucking the hair behind her ear.

“Sable,” Cami muttered as he spun around towards me. “Stop being so idiotic. Leave them alone.”

“I’m just teasing,” I said, and grinned widely at Cami.

“I think you’ve been in the sun for too long,” he huffed. Kora and Deruk joined us on the grass, and the four of us continued wringing out our clothes. Deruk also pulled out another fish to eat. His long, sharp canine teeth sunk into the flesh and tore it apart. Kora smiled while sitting directly in a sunny spot, allowing the heat to further dry her.

“I thought about making a fire,” I said after sighing happily. “Then we could dry faster—maybe even cook our fish.” The three others stayed motionless, staring widely at me. Water and fish flesh dripped from Deruk’s chin and only the sound of the rushing river filled the stunned silence.

“First bear watching, now fire-making?” Cami stated loudly with his usual judgmental tone. I shrugged my shoulders. I knew it was a new idea for them. We were having fun together, something we had not done since we were younglings. I was curious if they were open to trying something new altogether. I had hoped to make the afternoon even more memorable for myself and the others. However, I knew that this was an unexpected idea for us to participate in as growing Teraganes—a practice often discouraged as the isolated Teraganes—but I didn’t quite care enough since it felt natural and fun. I was enticed to try something new with the people who lived near me. The only people who I could call my friends—maybe even a family—besides Lillie, of course.

“I’ve had my fill for the day,” Deruk said with a hint of annoyance. “Thanks for the invite.” He threw the half-eaten fish back into the river and took off into the sky, leaving a trail of mist behind. Kora watched him leave, then looked at me with an expression of conflict.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, then also shot off, seemingly following Deruk. Cami straightened up after brushing off his trousers and watched the others disappear. He continued to adjust his clothing, perfectly aligning the ends and folds, and ignored my remark. I waited patiently for his answer, holding my breath. I didn’t even know how to start a fire or how to cook a fish; the idea spontaneously appeared in my head. Perhaps it was a random thought motivated by Lillie’s stories of the many meals she cooked over an open fire. I wanted to try it and perhaps see if my friends could witness the experience of trying new ideas. I only wanted them to continue having fun with me. I wanted to share a meal with them.

“It sounds interesting, but I think I’ve had enough interesting events for one day,” Cami finally said. He straightened out his clothes one last time, satisfied with his efforts. “Thanks for showing me the bears. I have not observed bears since I was a young child, nor played in the river since—”

“With our mothers,” I said, finishing his sentence. We both recalled the same memory of our mothers bringing us to the river and the time we played together as younglings, when we would splash in the waters and drink from the river during the hot summer days.

“Yeah, that was a long time ago,” he said and began brushing his fingers through his curly brown hair. “But those days are in the past. We are not younglings anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t cool off in the river,” I said. “Or watch the bears.”

“Yes, but we must still observe in solitude.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be absurd by asking such things. You already know why.”

“But, why can’t we also participate—”

“Sable!” Cami interrupted. His voice echoed as he moved his hair around in frustration. He looked troubled and choked up while trying to swallow. Cami, as a Sage in training, knew the importance of abiding by rituals, traditions, and unspoken rules. He knew better than any of us, or, so I assumed.

“Your father and mother in their wisdom have taught you the natural ways of life,” he lectured, still combing through his hair. “Perhaps you should be wise and remember who you are.” He walked next to my side, staring at me with his intense brown eyes and grimacing expression. The sun beamed behind him, and his dark figure stood tall and regal. He stopped brushing through his hair, finally satisfied. Then, he eyed my tangled hair with a grimace.

“You really should comb your hair,” Cami said, then took off into the sky in a shadowy blur. He left me like the others, and I could only assume that they all went their separate ways, abiding by the rituals of solace. I did not try to make a fire. I only ate some food, caught more to eat later, and foraged around for berries.

At least they came out to meet with me.

Although I felt immensely disappointed that Cami and the others were less intrigued by my idea of fun, I was at least satisfied with the idea that pursuing my own goals would allow me to create a better life for myself. Those moments of happiness, reliving happy memories from the past, gave me a sense of pride in connection with my colony. I felt slightly closer to them, regardless that we were going against the taboo of gathering.

I pushed myself to strength train that day. I brought my extra fish and berries back to my mountain residence and, by the evening, felt hungry again. I decided to continue making a habit of gathering a plethora of food during the day, eating as I wanted, and fueling when I exert energy. I thought about my time at the river with the others. I felt a sense of community, at least for a moment, when we played together in the water or when we sat in the oak tree, watching the bears. However, the ending of our time together disheartened me. I wished Cami would have relaxed more or at least considered the idea that life could be fun at times. Regardless, I shook off his lecturing and instilled the happy memory of the four of us splashing in the river. The idea of fire-making lingered in my mind, and I thought about asking Lillie to teach me to make a fire the next time I saw her.

The colony may accept the isolation; at least I have Lillie to keep me company.