Chapter 1: Before and Now
Esteleia's eyes shot open as the dawn light from outside flooded the cave. The shadows it created seemed to have followed straight from her nightmares. Her fluttering heart slowly came down to a steadier beat after she figured out she was awake and not stuck in one of a long-string of endless nightmares.
The shadows of her world never left, and only the many faeries of this forest seemed able to make their colors come through her misty eyes. Born under a sky with stars and a rising sun, the air filled with mist, it seemed the sun had chased the mist into her eyes. Her aunt had been the first to tell her this rather poetic explanation, and even if it was false, it was better than the truth.
Esteleia's earliest memories were of fluttering balls of light, which her aunt had told her were the many faeries of the forest. She didn't remember her parents, for they had both died soon after she'd been born. She also remembered the smell of pine needles, and the sound of her aunt's voice reading aloud from different books. Years passed, and she grew up happy in the forest.
The shadows around her she learned to live with, mapping out the forest in her mind for a few miles around the small log cabin her aunt lived in. The small vegetable garden supplemented the wild berries and nuts they gathered as well as the occasional small bird or fish from the skies or the many streams that flowed near their home.
Her aunt continued to read from the many books she had, and Esteleia learned of the world outside the forest. She had no wish to go explore that world, content with her life in the forest with the love of her aunt and the many blessings the forest faeries seemed happy to give them.
Now, the smell of smoke seemed to stay in her fur even having crossed so many streams and being drenched by the falling rain. She had been in the forest gathering nuts for dinner, when the sound of something falling had made her turn. She had run home, fearing what could have happened, but arrived to the smell of smoke, and the crackling of the fire.
Just then, the storm that had been threatening all day finally unleashed its wrath. And she'd run, unable to think past getting away from her burned home. She'd kept running far after she'd left the boundaries of the terrain she knew, not taking care to even notice what direction she was heading. As trees appeared in front of her as tall gray shapes, she narrowly avoided them, and she had stumbled many times in and out of streams, yet she still had been unable to run from the frightful images that kept coming back to mind of the burning cabin.
Finally, exhausted she'd collapsed at a stream and let the wind and rain blow around her. A faerie had grabbed her tail and pulled her toward the cave she found herself in, now. Then it had fluttered back out into the storm, probably to enjoy the show. For her, the storm had weaved her nightmares to swirling monsters of fog, fire, and shadow.
Now, in the morning she left the cave and cautiously made her way to the stream, ignoring the sore muscles that hurt with each step. She took a long drink at the stream, lapping up the water, before dunking her head in to wake her up. The forest seemed strange here, the trees unfriendly compared to where she'd grown up. She shivered, feeling alone, abandoned, and very lost.
Her thoughts made her way to her aunt, and tears ran down her face as she tried to accept the prospect of not having anyone to take care of her. She made her way to a rock that was fairly dry and warm in the sunlight and curled up on it, trying to soak up the warmth as loneliness and grief threatened to swallow her up.
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Fyvan smiled as he watched the waves crash onto the shore. Here, he was free to do whatever he wanted, the only limit he had was to take care of himself and stay alive to enjoy life. That was becoming easier and easier as the days passed since he'd found the river coming out of the forested hills. This part of land was uninhabited, for people were afraid of going to far into the forest, saying it was enchanted. It was as if the place had been created just for him. The bountiful roots, nuts and berries came from the borders of the forest, which he was going to explore deeper today, and fish could be found easily in the river.
The forest seemed to draw him towards it. Yesterday, he'd found himself peering through the trees without really going in. His curiosity wouldn't leave him alone, but today he planned on following the stream that flowed out of it. When mid-afternoon came, he'd eat a snack and follow it downstream to the ocean where he'd started. He'd see if he could find any new berries or roots to help vary his food supply.
A week ago, Fyvan had climbed out the window of the shop his father owned, to find an adventure somewhere outside his normal life. He had carefully packed what he would need, planning over several months how to survive. In the backpack, he had brought a blanket, a detailed map that showed the forest as a blank, a knife, matches, a candle, some cereal bars, a canteen of fresh water, and a small stash of neopoints he'd been saving. He'd also brought some athelas, or kingsfoil, that had worked well against all the small cuts, bruises, and sicknesses he'd come down with over the years. His mother had either washed the wounds with it in the water, or made him swallow it as tea.
(The idea of athelas comes from Lord of the Rings. I've just messed around with it. I've got no claim to it in any way.)
He'd followed the seashore to the first stream that wasn't on the map, and started to look for food. Quickly, he'd found the berry bushes that grew scattered between the forest edge and the sand. A few nut trees he'd discovered a few feet in the forest soon after. The nearby food and water supply had made choosing it as a spot rather obvious. A few days later he'd been absent-mindedly pulling up grass as he'd made a plan about a fish trap, and chewing on the end found it tasted like one of the vegetables his mother cooked. By then, he'd dug out a small burrow at the very edge of the stream, a distance from the tide line.
He'd built a bed of grasses, and lined the floor with as many flat rocks as he could find. He'd made it himself, and as small as it was it didn't collapse when he walked on top. Fyvan was proud of his small home, even if he spent more time outside, not liking the feeling of being trapped. Only at night with a breeze coming through the entrance did he feel fine inside. The one candle had it's own uneven rock to stand on, and he kept it lit very little, only when he needed to light a fire outside.
However, the matches were running out, and he'd been wondering how to fix his fire problem. He could always build a larger fire outside, but it would have to be big enough to last the entire night. Then in the morning he'd feed it some new wood. It would also mean finding logs each day to add. That idea could work, until it rained. 'Maybe a roof over the fire could do keep the rain out?' He'd work on it another day.
He'd made a simple fish trap. It was a funnel pointing into a box totally made of sticks with some seaweed keeping it together. The fish swam through the funnel, without being smart enough to figure out they could go back out that way as well.
Fyvan stretched as he got up. If he didn't start now, he would have to wait till tomorrow. He walked to where he'd been drying some food out in the sun, for he didn't want to run out for some reason and not have any left. He'd been working over planning this project out… from food, to traps, to shelter; he hadn't found anything he couldn't solve yet with the information he'd gathered from several sources.
He frowned. As he'd slowly relaxing as he found less to do each day, thoughts of home had become more common. He didn't want to hurt his parents, and they had his newborn little sister as well. Maybe one day he'd go back and visit. That life just hadn't worked out and he'd done his best to reassure them in the note. He'd told exactly how he'd survive, leaving out any clue to where he was. He sighed, and came back to the present. He grabbed one of his experiments; a flour of dried berries, and tasted it.
Fyvan couldn't help smiling at the nice aftertaste it left. It wouldn't get squished, even if it did make him a bit thirsty. He'd be following the river so thirst was hardly going to be a problem. He filled a small bag with it, the one he'd used for carrying the cereal bars. Then he grabbed his backpack from inside the burrow, put in some athelas, cloth, the flour, and the full canteen. He went back outside, and started towards the point where the stream exited the forest.
A light bounce was in his step, and he ran across the sand for a little ways. The beach was rather wide, ending at the trees. The trees were farther apart here, where the bushes and grass grew between them. The stream ran smoothly along its track, the bottom covered in small pebbles. Soon the grass grew a darker green, and the trees became taller, wider, and older. It turned into the mysterious forest people talked about. Mushrooms grew on fallen logs, the river bottom was lined in larger stones, and the sound of wind and waves was silenced. Instead the smell of damp earth and the sound of birds chirping as the stream continued past him, murmuring in a language as smooth as time passing.
It was a timeless world, and he felt like an intruder in its beauty. The trees continued to get older, and the stream smaller as he continued upstream, past the places where streams joined the small flowing brook. Every once in a while he'd think he saw something flash in the corner of his eyes, but when he looked at it, it disappeared as if it had never existed. The atmosphere wasn't harmful towards him, more as if he was an unwelcome guest someone would be polite to, but wouldn't welcome either.
He came across a small waterfall. The stream dropped several feet, and he had to climb some moss-covered rocks to make his way up. His stomach growled. He gave a small laugh. He felt like spinning around and splashing in the water, but something stopped him. He ended up sitting on the rocks, looking back the way he came, through trees that reached all the way to the sky. He wondered if he could climb all the way to the top of one and look out for miles of a sea of green, if he could see his home, or the beach at all. He grabbed the berry flour and dipped a paw in to eat it, then licked it off, like a small thief would lick sugar off his fingers. After he was done he lapped up some water and continued on. He'd have to turn back soon, but he started looking for food instead of admiring the forest as he'd been doing on his way there.
He glanced at the mushrooms, before making a face and shaking his head. He'd never liked mushrooms and they might end up being poisonous. He didn't like red meat either. The petpets in this forest were happy, no use ruining their little paradise.
He wondered if you could make bread out of nuts. He'd heard some idea revolving around that. He could also use some clay, if it didn't crack when he dried it. Were you supposed to let it dry in the sun or in a fire?
He shook his head to jerk himself back to reality. He kept being lulled in these woods. His mind started drifting each time he tried to concentrate. No wonder people stayed away from them. He scanned the area around him. The trees let in a green tinted light, and everything was turned an emerald green. Looking up the stream he spotted some footprints. He frowned. No one should be in these woods but him and the many petpets.
He quickly put the empty bag in his backpack, drank some water from the stream, and refilled his canteen. He wanted to follow those tracks and see who had made them. Talking to someone would make a nice change from talking to himself.
