Here is the second chapter. I hope I am not too mystical…. Everything will be explained, I promise ^_^

Humanity's soul

Chapter Two: The Garden

The eyes of the good man were sad. Hera liked his eyes. They were blue like that big water her mother led her to the other day. Hera didn't want those man's eyes to be sad. She wanted them to be happy like the water. She wanted them sparkling. That was why she handed him the picture of the woman from the song. That song made Hera happy. The face of the woman from the song made her even happier. She hoped she would make the man with the sad eyes happy, too. When she saw that she managed to do that, she went away.

The night was quiet, warm and interesting. So many new things, so many friendly lights above her. She tried to reach them with her hand, like she tried every night. They winked at her mockingly and stayed high and unreachable.

Then she saw the little boy who was with the strange man before. It was as if he was waiting for her to show up. Giggling, she followed him to another tent. There were so many strange men in it, but Hera wasn't scared. After all, they talked the same language she did, they knew the song.

And there she was- the woman from the song. But there were so much different things about her…Hera stopped, nearly starting to cry.

In the dream the woman was smiling and running through the fields, her red hair so soft when she hugged Hera, her laugh so lively when she was telling her stories, her skin so warm when she was kissing her forehead.

Here her hair was dark and unfamiliar, her skin looked cold, her hard breathing brought fear in the little girl's heart. There was no laugh, there was no light, there was no music…

Hera wanted to make it right.

She liked the woman from the song. She didn't know what came first. She didn't know if the song created the woman or the woman was creating the song. Hera was too little to ask those questions. She was just there to sing.

Carefully, she stepped ahead, the strange men staring at her but letting her approach the bed. Hera sat on it, her little hand touching the closed eyes of the woman, humming their song. The men in the tent followed the melody.

Somewhere, in the depth of the dreadful darkness, Laura smiled.

***

It needed the sun to start burning his skin before Bill realized that he had gone asleep again. The pounding in his head has stopped, but there was another vessel with that strange liquid next to his bed. He drank it fast and stood. His aching body protested against the pressure, but he had more important aims than indulging it.

He had to find Laura.

Bill came out of the tent, hoping to meet Lee or Saul. Hell, even Ellen sounded like a good suggestion right now. There were no people around, only numerous tents, all the same, all strange and somehow familiar. He realized that he was in the centre of the tribe's camp.

Where was Laura? Was it too late? What if she wasn't there anymore? How could he fall asleep again?

And then he heard a sound. A child's giggle, a child's song. Bill followed it around the tents until he found himself in some kind of a garden. There was something really strange about that place. The trees, the grass, even the lake with the small waterfall in the middle of the garden lured him to come, to see, to touch. Bill suddenly lost track of time and space, succumbing to the power of the sounds- the waterfall's cry, the tree's whispering, the grass's hissing. He looked and looked until he realized he was spinning around like a child. He could sense the familiar smell of herbs with taste of fruits. He could see the fruits themselves, hidden under the leaves of the trees. He couldn't tell what colour they were for the whole garden looked goldenly under the rays of the sun…. or maybe it was not the sun which made it look that way… And that melody… that melody which felt as if coming from within- in the ground, in the water molecules, in the air… in his very core… There were no birds around, but they were not needed. That place had its own rhythm, its own melody, its own laws. It felt sacred, it felt… heavenly.

Suddenly Hera appeared in front of Bill, leading a little boy with her. The boy with the man who gave me the liquid Bill remembered. He kneeled before the two children and smiled.

"Helo, Hera. Who is your friend?"

She giggled and the boy smiled shyly. They took Bill's hands and led him to the lake in the middle.

And then Bill noticed something he has never noticed before.

A tree. In the centre of the centre. In the core of the core.

A tree right in the middle of the lake.

Fear and hope, bliss and dread, anger and veneration stormed into Bill's soul. He wanted to reach it and he wanted to escape from it for its power was too much to bear.

The children giggled and started singing again, standing on the shore with faces turned towards the tree.

Hera was finally giving words to the melody Bill has felt when he first stepped in that place. Still, those were not words in the actual meaning of the term… but what they sang was enough for Bill to understand.

That place was full of life, life so primal and uncontrollable that Bill didn't know if it felt right to be here, to witness it.

A couple of minutes later the children stopped their singing and Hera once again took Bill's hand in hers. He followed her willingly.