I’m in a meadow, basking in the sun, cushioned by the newly-grown spring grass. The heady smell of new plantlife, sweet flowers, and the fresh air on the breeze lulls me like a lullaby. The rustling of crickets, the buzzing of bees and the chirruping song of the birds moving from tree to tree relaxed me as deeply as the chimes from back home. With this, and the warmth seeping through my clothes, into my skin, and into my blood, I feel naught but pure contentment. I hold onto the feeling, cradling it like a delicate candle’s flame, and am comforted by the glow.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIsPON8tpw2
Ah. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this. Spring, finally here; all new life, and maybe even a new me.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1J4Ni4iSKi
I open my eyes just a crack, shading myself from the sun’s glare with my eyelids and brows, and look to the clouds herding across the sky like gigantic, passive beasts. I wonder what they see from up there – the patchwork of the green landscape, perhaps, mottled by their own shadows.
After a short nap of dreams filled with slow movement, bright colours and pleasing sounds, I pull myself up with a groan, dust of the grass and bugs from my tunic from under my leather vambraces, pick up my pack and bone swords, and start again on my journey.
The terrain I need to hike is somewhat steep as I make my way up the curve of the mountain towards my destination: the Pool of Plenty. As I walk, the crunch of grass under my steps and the music of the surrounding sounds accompany me and allow me to easily slip into my thoughts. I think of the stories that brought me here. The Pool sits higher up this mountain, and Old Man Herro says that the water from it tastes like honeysuckle and dew. A travelling merchant told me that his friend has been there, and the flowers that grow on that mountain-shelf bloom with “the colours of the heart”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. They might make good inks and dyes, or maybe a present for Annelie - a cute girl that works at the general store tent. What makes me the most curious, though, is a mention I caught of it from one of the scrolls I was allowed to read over two camps back. It said that, somewhere in this area lives the King of Hawks, with the power to fly upon water droplets that float in the air. I was skeptical when I read it, but I’ve seen stranger things in these lands.
As I continue to make my way up, I’m slowly brought out of my thoughts by a new, whispering sounds riding on the wind. It sounds like a waterfall. I must be getting closer. I leave the warmth of the sun and walk under the canopies of some large hard-woods, their brown-green leaves filtering the forest with a twilit hue. It’s a fascinating zone, in here – the forest floor is mostly bare. It’s mostly mulch, cool, dry dirt, and some shrubs that catch the light that the trees graciously allow for them between the spaces of their branches. The trees leave little space between them and their neighbors – and not every species is so friendly with each other – but their own canopies aren’t solid or very thick. The branches that hold up the forest roof are thick and strong-looking, covered from tip to trunk in a rough, thick bark. There’s not much leaf-growth below their apex, giving the tops a semicircular impression. This forest seems peculiar from the rest of the mountain’s higher landscapes, which are predominantly populated by tall-growing, thick-needled evergreens. There’s sign of some larger animals, maybe deer of some sort, and I cross the path of a meandering game-trail. One of the trees along the route has worn grooves in its hide, the bark scraped off. Perhaps the winters up here are a bit lean. Strange, as there seems to be enough water around for some smaller mosses to grow.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ85H9ctKo7H
My trek through the small forest is filled with similar-such musings and observations, and I don’t get a chance to tire of them. before I notice the gradual change. The ground has already leveled off and a stronger light indicates the edge of the forest. The sound of rushing water is near.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO0xzzlUZri
The light between the trunks contrasts strongly with the shadows I’m in and I can’t see past them, until I step out from under the leafy roof and, as my eyes adjust, a grassy plateau is revealed to me.
It’s a beautiful sight! Almost like a shelf, the ground extends outward from the gentle mountain and above the lands below it. The large, rolling fields of grass stretch out in all directions, dotted with rounded copses. As the wind blows, ripples race across the brown-green sea, flecked with the yellow of flowers that blink in and out from beneath the grass’ seed-heads. The sun is still high but the air up here is cool and most, and I feel droplets of water condensing on my sleeves. I look across the shelf and my eyes are caught by a glimmering light. Stepping a bit closer over a slight rise, I see it – The Pool.
Its clear, blue water is enchanting, shimmering in its purity and unburdened by overgrowth of water-plants or algae. The pool is right on the edge of the shelf, cupped in black stone and flowing down between boulder-like fingers into a narrow, rushing waterfall that plummets off a sheer rocky cliff. There doesn’t seem to be a source for this water – it must flow up from the ground itself, and a lot of it to sustain such a flow! My heart wells up with a sudden joy - from somewhere deep in me, like the pool itself - and I don’t even try to resist the urge to run towards it. Between leaping bounds I kick of my shoes and splash, still running, into the pool. It’s surprisingly shallow, up to about my knees. I let loose a wild kick, spraying clear droplets into the air which catch the sun’s rays and fan out into brilliant rainbow colour before dropping back into ripples. A wild laugh rides my breath, and in the Pool of Plenty I play like a child, and enjoy every minute.
The sun is westering by the time my energy is spent. I walk to the shore and hunt for my boots in the grass, taking in the orange- lined mountains as I do. They spread out into the northwest, crusted with the receding winter snow and swirling with low, misty clouds. The forest that surrounds me is darkening – I’d better set up camp soon.
I spend a few more moments sitting next to the pool, sipping from its mirror-like surface. The water is fresh and sweet, like the Old Man said, with a refreshing earthy after-taste that comes with clean ground-water. I see no flowers. It probably wasn’t a malicious lie, but I’m dismayed to be robbed of the chance to not bring back something special for Annelie. I pick up and rub between my fingers a smooth water-stone. She probably wouldn’t like something like this, and as much as I’d like to keep a memento of this place I can’t afford to carry around dead weight. The clouds and darkening sky ripple when the stone plonks back into the water.
Releasing buckles from my hard-leather chest plate and unpinning water-proofed skins, I find my quill, a sachet of ink, and pull out my soft, leather-bound journal. I may not take mementos with me, but I can still keep this place close to my heart.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6dey5kRces
As the tip of the feather scratches across the rough, absorbent paper, I think about this place and the things I observed getting here. The images flow through my head, and I don’t have to think as they make their way down my arm, into my fingers, and onto the pages as words and sketches.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ43RMDyxp0U
456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Cj61THPae
I’m taken out of my reflections when a chill shivers through my body. It’s gotten later without my noticing. Stowing my journal back, I stand up and stretch myself, pleased with the strength in my muscles and the new warmth flowing through them. I prepare to gather up the rest of my things when I’m stopped mid step by a frightening, eagle-like screech that compresses my ears and echoes through the mountains. That sound – it was so loud. Dread drops like a stone to the depths of my stomach. Not good…
My eyes catch a muted shadow on the ground and then dart to the sky. A hunting bird. It’s huge. It’s going… straight towards me! And I fell right into its trap!
Cursing the seconds I lost to paralysis, my legs pump and my hearts races as I search for my swords. Where are they!
A gust of wind flattens the grass around me and nearly pushes me off balance. I tuck into a roll and jump back to my feet, feeling a boom of vibration through my legs from behind me. I instinctively dart right, and flecks of dirt hit my left arm and my face. Not sparing a glance, I run faster, more frantically. I need to find my swords! Another screech assaults my eardrums, and a rhythmic thudding tells me that the creature is in hot pursuit. There, a depression in the grass. My pack! Pumping my body even harder, straining my muscles to the point where they burn like acid, I bend over and reach down, close my hand around what I can, and leap forward into another roll, pivoting on my heels as I come up to face about. Towards me charges a massive bird, twice my height, two huge wings raised above in intimidation and a pair of smaller appendages below them, flapping in a fit of feathers to keep the creature balanced. It was nearly on me this whole time!
It darts its thick, black beak towards me and I have just enough time to deflect some of the blow as the force pushes me aside and I land on my back. My arms vibrate from the shock. The creature turns its head towards me, ice-blue avian eyes fixed on mine, and lowers itself on its wings to my level. Beastly, clawed feet, like those of a lion’s, scrape the ground, scratching deep furrows into the soil. A long, thick tail lashes in the air behind it. A deep, threatening sound growls from its chest. I want it to stop its attack – I don’t want to fight. But my mind goes blank in its panic as to how to convince it. Pushing forward with its wings it renews its charge, rearing its head for another strike. My muscles react before I can think more, and, sword in hand, I push myself from the ground, staggering to my feet. Where I was a moment before there is now a deep scar in the dirt. I must fight.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtTwZat8XjU
Bringing my light bone-sword’s grip into both hands, I widen my stance and point the tip towards its feathered chest. I curse my shaking arms and the breath catching in my throat. At its next strike, I press the flat edge of the bone-blade against its beak with a loud clack of bone against bone, knocking the beast off its aim. My feet dig into the ground, and stride forward for a counter attack, but I cannot take a second step before its massive wing knocks me aside in a flurry of feathers. I regain my stance. A moment passes where I realize the creature is re-evaluating my as prey that will fight, but I don’t give it the chance to see how weak I am. I swing the sharp bone around in a backhand strike, slicing at its wing, and I slice of many of its larger feathers. The bird pivots around and slightly away from me, screeching in surprise. It shifts its weight forward, beginning another charge using its formidable weight. I take the chance to desperately pull in a deep breath, bunch up the muscles in my legs, and as it brings its open beak low for a sharp-edged snap, I jump. The creature’s momentum propels it under me, and I bring my arms up above my head, burying my sword into its back as I struggle to land on its neck. It jolts with anguish, throws me off, and I land, hard, on my elbows. I’m closer to where my other sword lay, and suddenly it’s like my entire being shifts towards scrambling for it. I feel it in the grass before I see it, and grab it.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCTxj0Rd4QV
The beastly eagle screeches and flaps, now obviously enraged. In this moment, smelling the blood on my chest, the grip on my sword slightly slick, I immerse myself in another feeling that I welcome back begrudgingly. My veins burn with fire, my muscles tense until they’re as taught as rope, and my lips twitch into a snarl. I rush towards the eagle, yelling fire, and slash at it again and again, stabbing at its exposed neck when I bat its head aside but missing. I push my advantage, fighting harder, harder, as it stumbles away from my ferocity.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRpXfBVtmGI
Suddenly we’re in water, and both of our movements slow. Having gained a bit of distance, out of the reach of my sword, the eagle cries and turns its body, lashing its tail at me. The blow catches me under my arm and in my ribs, emptying my lungs of breath. I collapse into the knee-deep water. Another blow batters me from above knocking my face into the pool’s rocky floor. I struggle to keep a grip on my consciousness and my sword as I feel its beak strike the leather armour on my back, painfully bruising the flesh underneath. My arms and legs scrabble on the slick rock and I bring my head above the water, trying to escape the next blow. Another blow splashes behind me as I pull my legs under me. I need to get away. I’m blinded by water and panic, and my heart lurches as my foot finds not water, or rock, but empty air. Startled, I try and fall back away from the precipice that I glimpse below me, and desperately wrap my arms around a slick rock.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWVaFiGMl68
The Eagle raises its head and looks to me, rage in its gaze, but its eyes are unsteady. The water streaming over the edge of the stone shelf is red with blood, and the eagle’s beak is scratched heavily from what must have been a missed strike against the pool’s rock. It stumbles towards me, unable to get a steady grip on the rock or sure footing in the rushing water. It levers open its beak for another powerful snap. In desperation, I cling to the rock with one arm as I try to swipe at its wing with the sword in my other hand. My strike connects, but with a blunted edge, and throws the beast off balance, knocking me with its head instead of clamping down with its beak.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjIoEZUuiWu
456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjuNQfrWKbW
The next instant my grips slips and we’re both falling through the air, water droplets pelting my face.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqtbb2MXOBp
A moment of unwelcome calm surrounds me, and the water seems to stand still in the air. I look down and see the eagle falling below me face-up, quickly getting closer as it spreads its wings to try and catch the air. My heart, once aflame, now feels as still and heavy as a stone. I position my blade above my head and let the great eagle’s body close the distance.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG2NaQcxdmW
We hit the water at the same time with a loud slap.
The pool that catches the fall at the bottom is deeper than at the top and thick with water plants. The sky is still light, but I am in the shadow of the cliff. The giant bird’s body floats on the water, seeping red from two large holes. I’ve retrieved my bone blades, and sit on the grass at the edge of the pool, shivering with a cold I feel in both my flesh and my heart. My mind is numb.
My pack and supplies are still at the top of the shelf, but it’s too dark to go wandering through the woods, and I am exhausted beyond the ability to describe it. Hobbling towards a tree, I collapse against it. After a few labored breaths I wrestle my chest into to a steady rhythm. There is no bird-song, no bees, no wind, not even crickets. The silence is torturous.
With the last of the evening’s light, I take out my journal. The King of Hawk’s ferocious visage stares back at me in black ink.456Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpn5AFt4KSw
In thick letters I rename him The Regal Eagle. My lip curls in a bitter-tasting smile as a streak of warmth meanders down my cheek.
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