The leaves rustled gently against their woody constraints, releasing a swing and sigh that reminded Freya of times when she was small enough to balance on her father's shoulders. He would raise her with cautious hands supporting her leg and back as she pulled a limb to pluck a moon peach. Her palms still remembered the sensitive bark in the western woods of Yondra: wrinkled and strained with swirls of wise moss communicating with her in a language that she could only feel and never speak. She recalled what the tree told her that time: "Hey hey! Don't be pulling me like that, it hurts! Get that moon peach and leave me be!" And as though realizing what was spoken was in fact true, the branch retracted from her grasp of its own will and flung her back with moon peach in hand. Her father, startled as he always was with his children, tumbled to the ground with her, breaking her fall on a bed of dry grass. He stilled immediately afterward, grey eyes scanning the child for any signs of injury or emotional distress. But as usual, Freya appeared unharmed and staring blindly up at the tree that had just scolded her; this was the second or third time that such had happened, and she wondered if other people could hear the trees talk.
"Papa," little Freya queried as she relaxed against her father's chest, lightly pressing the skin of the moon peach to her lips.
"Yes honey," he responded, brushing calloused fingers against her right cheek and left arm; his inspection wasn't over just yet.
"Do the trees ever speak to you?"
This brought a moment of pause as Freya's father peered wonderingly at his daughter. After nearly a minute of quietude, he murmured, "No, I don't think that I've ever heard them."
"Oh, I see."
"Hmm, why do you ask?"
"Well, they always speak to me. Most times they're mean."
"Oh, well, would you like me to have a talk with them?"
At his sign of paternal instinct, Freya giggled lightly, taking a small bite of her moon peach. A burst of sugar and honey melon-like flavor--and maybe a hint of star berry--sparked a grin on her face. The dribble of juices down her chin followed a second bite. Freya took her sweet time to answer her father as she enjoyed the bounty of her outing. "No," she finally spoke, "this is worth it." Upon taking a third bite with bite marks made prominent along the surface of the fruit, she offered the rest to her father with a small arm extending toward his chin. Her father wordlessly accepted the offer, a light grin spreading from his lips as he gently plucked the remaining moon peach from his daughter's right hand. As he ingested what remain of the fruit, minus the core, seeds, and stem, he ran his fingers across the left peahen wing extending from her obsidian locks. The wing shivered beneath his touch for a brief moment, before falling into his caress as Freya sighed with what appeared to be a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.
He smiled all the same, continuing his soft pets as he champed the moon peach's skin. Despite the noisy munching that emitted from his attention to the lingering fruit, Freya managed to be soothed to sleep; of course, it was difficult for her father to tell immediately that she had dozed off since her indigo eyes remained open with hints of animation. But her breathing had slowed and become noticeably more rhythmic like the current of a stream. A dainty snore escaped her rosy lips once, twice, thrice. Yes, she was definitely resting her eyes.
"Heh, didn't know it was time for your nap," yawned Freya's father to himself as he began to feel the effects of drowsiness himself. He yawned once more, revealing his cavernous maw for all to see--trees pondered the depth of his mouth. He tossed the moon peach core into his sack which resided a foot away from him. He thought it useful to keep so that he might remember today, or at least try to cultivate his own moon peach trees. Gradually, his silver eyes fell, just as his hand rested against Freya's hair and peahen wing. Soon, father and daughter lay together on the autumn day, zephyrs gently brushing against them and trees chattering about the intrusive visitors sleeping on their lawn. Freya could hear nary a tree speak nor bemoan its purpose in life for her fingers were far from troublesome bark and twigs; she seemed peaceful, thought her older self, and so young and inexperienced.
And with that observation, Freya awoke from her dream, eyes gazing blankly ahead, unable to see the patch of tall grass swaying in the gust of wind. She absently pushed the sleep from her eyes with the sleeve of her left arm as a greater sense of awareness settled upon her. She recalled travelling for quite a while with the intention of encountering the Kilele for a short visit. She had not seen her tribe and family in almost two years, and while she didn't want to admit it she was beginning to miss the scents, tastes, and touches of home.
Oye, sleepy head! You sleep like the dead!
Freya squeezed her lips together upon hearing the Esper welcome her back to the world of the roused. She brought her hand to her left ear and caressed the shell of the auricle, but not without lightly flicking the earring hanging from it; sometimes Ledisi had a voice like a squawking crow, and that was one quality of Freya's companion that did go unappreciated.
Hey! Don't do that: I get dizzy. You should be kind to your friends.
Freya's lips slowly spread into what appeared to be a mischievous grin as she stilled the earring before lowering her hand. "Well then," she began, "consider the fact that you're right beside my ear next time and I won't have to dole out such harsh treatment." Freya felt Ledisi sigh, as though conceding to the small proposition. This easily pleased Freya as she placed her hands against the tree that had served as her rest spot. With skilled fingers, she led her way upward to stand on her feet; her feathers and peahen wings slid against the aged bark with ticklish effect. Of course, Freya didn't laugh. She tried to block the sensation from her notice as she stood upright, brushing her fingers gingerly down her tunic and backside. It mattered little that she felt the decency to groom herself; she couldn't see her work, even in her most enlightened dreams. She could feel her appearance to some degree, but she knew nothing of her guise in terms of a visual image. And while she had had to deal with the reality of a lifetime of blindness, this left a longing in her that she couldn't fathom.
"Freya," the earring lightly inquired, realizing the funk her charge was about to sink into.
Freya blinked, her optics knowingly shifting towards the left. "Yes," she rejoined with a light curiosity settling into her tone. She wondered if Ledisi felt neglected, then.
"We should probably get going; the Kilele could have already left from these parts, so we should continue if we wish to see the tribe for a quick visit."
"I see."
No further words were needed as Freya bobbed towards the ground like a buoy in the sea, her thick black hairs and feathers fanning over her face as she grabbed her sack. The contents of the bag rustled briefly as she rose and looped the strap over her right shoulder. Good, cause I wouldn't mind sitting in on another birthing ceremony. Heh, they're so much fun. Freya's couldn't help but mold a grin of a amusement at Ledisi's thought. 'You seem to miss home more than me,' Freya guessed as her black boots carried her away from the tree into what felt like a sea of tall grass. Maybe, but I know you've missed the tribe and your family much more than myself. It shouldn't hurt to go back for a while. Tallish prickly grains brushed against Freya's exposed skin in the strangest way. She almost thought they would start chattering away upon touching her, but all she heard was the wind, bird calls, Ledisi prattling in excitement and little else. 'Of course, trees don't talk to me anymore; I've become much too frightening for conversation,' she pondered wryly before focusing more of her attention on Ledisi. -oh I miss your mom's cooking so much. I mean, I've never gotten the chance to test it, but it smells wonderful.
The two remained as such, the more able-bodied woman walking as she listened to her Esper companion talk about all she missed about the Kilele tribe. Deep down, Ledisi understood that she could serve as a vehicle for what Freya refused to say. She didn't mind her role much, but she wondered what would become of their relationship with more signs of trouble. Even now, what appeared to be a sea of rodents swam past Freya's feet and she said nothing of it; maybe she didn't discern their movements, but Ledisi was doubtful of that. Freya knew her surroundings; she knew the taste and smell of danger; maybe she was aware that their destination was not nearly as safe as Ledisi wanted it to be. Truly, the south felt like a stomach suffering from indigestion. They were only experiencing momentary relief from trouble and despair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Freya yawned softly while passing through what seemed like a labyrinth of tall grass. Her palms rested at her sides, casually gripping the whimsical sward as it swayed against the wind. It had grown unreasonably quiet, minus the wind's breath and Ledisi's talkativeness; strangely, Ledisi soon adapted to the quietude, lessening her speech to three or four words at a time. Birds were scarce or scared silent by a force Freya could not see, though its presence was undeniably palpable; prey and predator ceased their roles in the circle of life, breaking wind in the opposite direction or trekking towards destinations of higher elevation. Freya understood why they decided their current homes were in peril; smoke and traces of dying embers tickled her nostrils in answer, teasing her with death's murmured promises and the destruction of a town. Something had gone array, and the problem more than likely threatened Winoki, a seaside hamlet some distance ahead. It would not be a safe place to enter, but Freya knew of no other locale where the Kilele could be located. It seemed unreasonable to risk her life in a battle where she couldn't secure her own victory, but if it was for Kilele she could act without a second thought; whereas this did not sit well with her well-reasoned notions of past circumstance, she knew of no other course of action.
Choosing to observe rather than utter what she noticed, she thought it best to at least assure Ledisi of their safety, despite the doubt weighing down her decision. "Ledisi," she spoke with a start, smoothing her dry lips with her tongue, "I won't lead us knowingly into something beyond my control; I just want to see them . . . make sure they're all right."
"Well believe me, I understand," Ledisi twittered and released what sounded like a gulp, "but if Variatian troops are ahead, I want you to turn back without protest."
Freya nodded once, tightening her lips in the process; if the Kilele were in fact in Winoki, she wasn't sure she could simply turn back at the first signs of immediate danger. Kilele was her life, as were her family; their safety was partly her responsibility.
"The Variatian men are monsters that cannot be satisfied," Ledisi reasoned as Freya proved unconvincing. "You won't be able to face them by yourself, even with your enchantments."
"Variatian,” Freya murmured, her voice laced with remembrance. Freya had heard the identity more than once during her travels. She recalled whispered talk of Variat, the kingdom that wielded control over more Espers than most mortals had ever encountered. Ledisi had compelling enough reason to be fearful of Variat's armies; while not attributed with a legacy of military strength, they were known for their brutal misuse of Espers and long-standing occupations. Freya found little joy in realizing that the city of Buchester, which she had recently visited for a replenishment of supplies, had probably succumbed to an appalling fate at their hands. Freya considered herself lucky for avoiding the Variatian companies and their officers, who had probably been a day from invasion upon her departure.
"I know Ledisi, you needn't remind me of their cruelty or of what I'm incapable of doing," Freya huffed as her hands rose, pushing against the grasses beating against her front.
"Freya, even if the Kilele are nearby, I trust they're quick to flee or at least warn the other villages. They should be fine." Now Ledisi seemed unconvincing, as her voice waxed uncertain until the very last word. The earring sighed lightly before another wave of silence overcame the two.
Freya blew hot air in response, dropping the subject entirely as she groped the tallish grass for an exit. She could sense an opening not far from her current position, and decidedly made haste in an attempt to reach it. Her peahen feathers and wings bounced on the air left in her wake and her left earring swung like an unsteady pendulum. Her boots picked up soil and grain as she neared what appeared to be a negative incline leading down to a pond and neighboring pasture. She anticipated that her current speed would lead to an unsavory plummet, so her animated boots gradually decelerated just in time for her head to peak outward from the fallow sward. The tip of her right boot grazed the rock and dry stubbles that led to an even slope before diving diagonally, seemingly without end. She pulled her boot back as she fully unveiled her form from behind the curtain of grass. She brushed her hands down her clothes and the feathers extending from her midriff down to her waist. Gingerly, she plucked a few stray grains loose from her plumage as she peered into a sea of darkness--indicative of the slant of land before her, according to her senses.
'I don't suppose you'd mind gliding down with me, would you Ledisi?' A pale brown hand reached into Freya's bag as she fingered the loose fabric of her blindfold. She pulled the strip of cloth upward and soon placed its base over her cloudy eyes; fastening its ends under her wings at the back of her head, she listened for Ledisi's response. A grim line snaked its way across her lips as Ledisi remained quiet. 'Ledisi?' Another pinch of silence, then finally Ledisi emitted some sound through what appeared to be a frustrated sigh. Of course I don't mind. I'm an earring. What would you have me do, unhook myself? A pause followed as another breath fanned against the side of Freya's neck. Freya listened aptly, feeling that somehow this talk was all too familiar but still a long-time coming; somehow, she felt less sure about what she wanted to do once she arrived in Winoki. I can't move without you; I need you to remain able-bodied so that you can accomplish more than what you have planned for yourself. You are destined for more . . . like it or not . . .
Freya could almost feel Ledisi's grin as though it were a pinch to the skin. She managed a light smirk as her peahen wings extended and flapped once, twice, thrice, forcing air to the ground in an effort to lift her tall frame. 'I understand.' The notion was enough for Ledisi for it spread a heart-felt warmth from Freya's gut to her cheeks. Of course, the young woman didn't outright blush, but she felt comforted by Ledisi's concern for her well-being. The feathers along the middle of her body shifted nigh vertically as her wings guided the wind beneath her, carrying her down the incline. Her boots were roughly fifteen feet from the earth and the gap shortened in the same manner as the immediate path. Halfway through her course in the air--about 45 feet down--Freya noticed a lessening of wind and hotter climate that produced a few drops of sweat along her brow. Her body stiffened in response, her nose searching the air for the signs of fire that she knew were already present. Ledisi too grew alert as she searched the itinerary, checking for any signs of imposing figures or Variatian soldiers. She saw none at present, but thought it fair to give Freya a second warning as they neared the ground below.
Freya, I take issue with your intentions of saving the Kilele, who may not even need rescuing, by putting your life at hazard. The tribe wouldn't want you to make such a decision on their behalf, especially if you wind up dead because of it. Ledisi's words seemed a little frantic, but she maintained a layer of calm as she surveyed the area.
Freya did not remark soon after, but instead approximated the stretch of feet separating her from the ground. The wind was starting to become more of a burden than a boon as she unwillingly lowered a foot toward the ground. 'I know Ledisi . . . understood. I really don't plan on dying anytime soon.' Freya's eyes thinned slightly beneath the blindfold as she breathed in air that didn't taste nearly as healthy as it did a moment ago. She could not deny the truth in Ledisi's word, even if she preferred to ignore them. But ignorance never served her purposes, so she wielded a smidgen more caution as she neared the end of her line of travel.
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