Dryad Eyes, part 6.
Word count on this one is 1373.
I enjoyed writing this one, but I actually think I may have spent a little too much time editing it. It was quite fun, tho. I added this little plot point since I was in Amarillo and couldn't move forward with the co-written pieces that queenthespade, kingofheart and I have planned.
Feeling the warm sunlight bathe her face, Treyp opened her eyes to the most beautiful clearing she had ever seen. Everything was so vivid. The green leaves of the trees around her, and the grass beneath her, were bright, vibrant, and alive, in the way that plants get immediately after a nice long rain. The wind danced through the surrounding forest, carrying with it a myriad of familiar scents and sounds, from tree sap and pine needles to the burbling of the nearby stream that sliced through the clearing's edge.
Picking herself, brushing off stray pieces of grass and dirt, Treyp found that she was a little girl again. She looked as she had nearly ten years ago, right down to her favorite old white dress with the green and gold leaves embroidered about the short sleeves. A pair of soft, tan moccasins adorned her feet. It was then that she realized that she must have been dreaming. Lifting her eyes and turning in a long, slow circle, she took in the setting and wondered, with a smile, if that was right. This place was amazing.
A great, dark shadow fell across her, so incredibly wide that it would have taken her short legs half-dozen long strides in any direction to be clear of it. Treyp turned toward the great figure that had stepped between her and the sun's golden gaze. It was a man; a giant of a man. He was at least twice as tall as anyone she could think of, including her beloved uncle Geran. His skin was a great deal darker than hers, darker even than Matthew's was. His black mane of hair was long, and his eyes were several shades of a very peculiar red. He had a name, she remembered, and it was Kalibak. She had known him by a different title altogether.
"Papa!"
The little dryad started, then leapt forward, and the giant scooped her up in his big, powerful arms and cradled her to his broad chest. How much time had passed since she had last felt the strong, safe comfort of that embrace? She was not certain, but she believed that she had looked exactly as she did at present. It had been so long. In that moment, however, she felt as if she had never left it at all. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears leaking from her eyes and soaking into the coarse cloth of his simple shirt.
"Papa." Several minutes had passed before she spoke, and she did so then only because she had happened to open her eyes at exactly the right moment to catch a flutter of motion as it disappeared beyond the horizon of her father's bicep. "Who is that lady?"
Treyp's uncertainty was evident. In truth, whatever it was had slipped out of sight so quickly that she had to wonder if she had actually seen anything at all. In that instant, however, she had thought that it was a woman, tall and graceful, with long dark hair and a plain green dress.
"...Mother."
The girl frowned. Kalibak's response was unusual. Though she had understood only one word of it, she was positive that there had been three syllables. What had he said? What word went with 'mother' ? A list of possibilities flowed quickly through her mind; 'the,' 'my,' 'your,' 'our,' 'their,' 'his,' 'her.' The answer was important, she could feel it. At the same time, however, she knew that it would be a futile effort to press her father further for answers. How she knew this, in spite of the fact that the giant had always been happy to answer any question she had ever posed to him, she could not say, but know it she did.
She was all too happy to abandon the line of thought for that moment. Another question, far more pressingly important to her, had been living on the tip of her tongue for a good many years, and she finally had a chance to ask it. "I haven't seen you in so long. Why? Where have you been?"
"Dead." The giant's apologetic eyes were full of sadness.
A terrible sob wracked Treyp's young body. He had just confirmed what she had suspected for years, from the very first time he had failed to appear on her birthday. She had known. Her sister, Huiyt, had insisted that it was more likely he had simply lost interest in them. Yret, their other sister, had not seemed to care. This confirmation of her theory stung. It cut deep, reopening that old wound, but also carried with it a measure of relief. At last, she knew. There was no longer any question, save what had happened, and she did not think she was ready for the answer to that.
"And me?" Her voice was small, soft, and terribly scared. This was another answer to which she did not think she really wanted an answer, but there was no avoiding it. She remembered the fight in dark, narrow little side street, the arrows that had penetrated her body, and the bitter, bitter cold that had hounded her flight. "Am I also... ?"
"Hurt bad, girl." Kalibak answered in a low, grim, angry voice that suggested what he might do, could he but reach out from the realm of spirits to lay hands upon the men that had attacked her. "Almost. But no. You live."
"Then why... how are you here? What is this place?"
"Time is a gift. Safety is a gift. Do not worry. You will know." So carefully, he cupped her tiny face with his huge hand and turned her big, dark eyes up to meet his own. "Do a thing for me?"
"Anything, Papa."
A smile touched his face, revealing broad teeth that could have been at home in a horse's mouth. In his, they looked no bigger than an ordinary man's did. "Your sisters need you. Help them. Lead them home."
Again, her throat constricted and hot tears welled up in her eyes. Even dead, he did not know. What did that mean for her sister, dear Yret, who had died in the thrall of Katharion? What did it mean for her soul? Her voice quivering, she tried to find the words to tell her father what had happened, that their little family had all but dissolved over the years. "I haven't seen Huiyt in years. She left us, saying that she had her own path to follow. Yret.. Yret is... "
"Fallen." The giant finished for her, in the same tone that he had used when speaking of her injuries. He would very much like to lay his hands upon the Heart of Darkness as well. "Do not worry. Rules are different for my girls. Or can be."
"What do you mean?" He was implying much. The rules could be different. What rules? And why? Somewhere within her, his words sparked a tiny glimmer of hope that she did not dare consider too closely.
"Shhhh. Promise."
"I... okay. I promise, Papa."
"Good. One more thing."
"What?"
"Love you, Treyp." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Strange warmth enveloped her, and she closed her eyes. It was not fair. She knew, without asking, what would come next.
Her body no longer felt quite so tiny against her father's enormous chest, though he still cradled her like a child. Pain returned to her. It emanated from the wounds she had taken the night before, in her back, ribs, and thigh, and rolled in waves across the rest of her body. It was almost too much to bear. Her father shifted her with great care, but no effort, and laid her gently down upon the same soft bed in Keeper's Gateway that she had, technically, never left. Kalibak then drew the blankets up, covering her, and planted yet another kiss on her forehead.
Then he was gone.
Miserable, Treyp opened her eyes. There was nothing but a familiar, impenetrable blackness to greet her. Her vision was gone again, it seemed. Sniffling, once again feeling tears wet her face, she tossed her arm across her sightless eyes and began to cry in earnest.
"I love you too, Papa." She managed.
Previous>> || Next>>
For those of you wondering, my grandmother is doing great. Things are looking a lot better than they did when I first went to Amarillo.
I enjoyed writing this one, but I actually think I may have spent a little too much time editing it. It was quite fun, tho. I added this little plot point since I was in Amarillo and couldn't move forward with the co-written pieces that queenthespade, kingofheart and I have planned.
Feeling the warm sunlight bathe her face, Treyp opened her eyes to the most beautiful clearing she had ever seen. Everything was so vivid. The green leaves of the trees around her, and the grass beneath her, were bright, vibrant, and alive, in the way that plants get immediately after a nice long rain. The wind danced through the surrounding forest, carrying with it a myriad of familiar scents and sounds, from tree sap and pine needles to the burbling of the nearby stream that sliced through the clearing's edge.
Picking herself, brushing off stray pieces of grass and dirt, Treyp found that she was a little girl again. She looked as she had nearly ten years ago, right down to her favorite old white dress with the green and gold leaves embroidered about the short sleeves. A pair of soft, tan moccasins adorned her feet. It was then that she realized that she must have been dreaming. Lifting her eyes and turning in a long, slow circle, she took in the setting and wondered, with a smile, if that was right. This place was amazing.
A great, dark shadow fell across her, so incredibly wide that it would have taken her short legs half-dozen long strides in any direction to be clear of it. Treyp turned toward the great figure that had stepped between her and the sun's golden gaze. It was a man; a giant of a man. He was at least twice as tall as anyone she could think of, including her beloved uncle Geran. His skin was a great deal darker than hers, darker even than Matthew's was. His black mane of hair was long, and his eyes were several shades of a very peculiar red. He had a name, she remembered, and it was Kalibak. She had known him by a different title altogether.
"Papa!"
The little dryad started, then leapt forward, and the giant scooped her up in his big, powerful arms and cradled her to his broad chest. How much time had passed since she had last felt the strong, safe comfort of that embrace? She was not certain, but she believed that she had looked exactly as she did at present. It had been so long. In that moment, however, she felt as if she had never left it at all. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears leaking from her eyes and soaking into the coarse cloth of his simple shirt.
"Papa." Several minutes had passed before she spoke, and she did so then only because she had happened to open her eyes at exactly the right moment to catch a flutter of motion as it disappeared beyond the horizon of her father's bicep. "Who is that lady?"
Treyp's uncertainty was evident. In truth, whatever it was had slipped out of sight so quickly that she had to wonder if she had actually seen anything at all. In that instant, however, she had thought that it was a woman, tall and graceful, with long dark hair and a plain green dress.
"...Mother."
The girl frowned. Kalibak's response was unusual. Though she had understood only one word of it, she was positive that there had been three syllables. What had he said? What word went with 'mother' ? A list of possibilities flowed quickly through her mind; 'the,' 'my,' 'your,' 'our,' 'their,' 'his,' 'her.' The answer was important, she could feel it. At the same time, however, she knew that it would be a futile effort to press her father further for answers. How she knew this, in spite of the fact that the giant had always been happy to answer any question she had ever posed to him, she could not say, but know it she did.
She was all too happy to abandon the line of thought for that moment. Another question, far more pressingly important to her, had been living on the tip of her tongue for a good many years, and she finally had a chance to ask it. "I haven't seen you in so long. Why? Where have you been?"
"Dead." The giant's apologetic eyes were full of sadness.
A terrible sob wracked Treyp's young body. He had just confirmed what she had suspected for years, from the very first time he had failed to appear on her birthday. She had known. Her sister, Huiyt, had insisted that it was more likely he had simply lost interest in them. Yret, their other sister, had not seemed to care. This confirmation of her theory stung. It cut deep, reopening that old wound, but also carried with it a measure of relief. At last, she knew. There was no longer any question, save what had happened, and she did not think she was ready for the answer to that.
"And me?" Her voice was small, soft, and terribly scared. This was another answer to which she did not think she really wanted an answer, but there was no avoiding it. She remembered the fight in dark, narrow little side street, the arrows that had penetrated her body, and the bitter, bitter cold that had hounded her flight. "Am I also... ?"
"Hurt bad, girl." Kalibak answered in a low, grim, angry voice that suggested what he might do, could he but reach out from the realm of spirits to lay hands upon the men that had attacked her. "Almost. But no. You live."
"Then why... how are you here? What is this place?"
"Time is a gift. Safety is a gift. Do not worry. You will know." So carefully, he cupped her tiny face with his huge hand and turned her big, dark eyes up to meet his own. "Do a thing for me?"
"Anything, Papa."
A smile touched his face, revealing broad teeth that could have been at home in a horse's mouth. In his, they looked no bigger than an ordinary man's did. "Your sisters need you. Help them. Lead them home."
Again, her throat constricted and hot tears welled up in her eyes. Even dead, he did not know. What did that mean for her sister, dear Yret, who had died in the thrall of Katharion? What did it mean for her soul? Her voice quivering, she tried to find the words to tell her father what had happened, that their little family had all but dissolved over the years. "I haven't seen Huiyt in years. She left us, saying that she had her own path to follow. Yret.. Yret is... "
"Fallen." The giant finished for her, in the same tone that he had used when speaking of her injuries. He would very much like to lay his hands upon the Heart of Darkness as well. "Do not worry. Rules are different for my girls. Or can be."
"What do you mean?" He was implying much. The rules could be different. What rules? And why? Somewhere within her, his words sparked a tiny glimmer of hope that she did not dare consider too closely.
"Shhhh. Promise."
"I... okay. I promise, Papa."
"Good. One more thing."
"What?"
"Love you, Treyp." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Strange warmth enveloped her, and she closed her eyes. It was not fair. She knew, without asking, what would come next.
Her body no longer felt quite so tiny against her father's enormous chest, though he still cradled her like a child. Pain returned to her. It emanated from the wounds she had taken the night before, in her back, ribs, and thigh, and rolled in waves across the rest of her body. It was almost too much to bear. Her father shifted her with great care, but no effort, and laid her gently down upon the same soft bed in Keeper's Gateway that she had, technically, never left. Kalibak then drew the blankets up, covering her, and planted yet another kiss on her forehead.
Then he was gone.
Miserable, Treyp opened her eyes. There was nothing but a familiar, impenetrable blackness to greet her. Her vision was gone again, it seemed. Sniffling, once again feeling tears wet her face, she tossed her arm across her sightless eyes and began to cry in earnest.
"I love you too, Papa." She managed.
Previous>> || Next>>
For those of you wondering, my grandmother is doing great. Things are looking a lot better than they did when I first went to Amarillo.