It was arranged that I would take Shíjiān home with me to teach her English, away from the habitually foul-mouthed boys. In the mean time, she taught me of the spirits in this world. How one could communicate with them, provided they have knowledge of Spiritongue. She taught me the power of my mama's harp and how to control it. As I played, I noticed less and less visions and noted that Shíjiān listened more, more spellbound every time. I found the harp I learned on and taught her how to play. Whenever she did, hundreds of white butterflies would arrive in droves. She would allow me to tag along as she tended to them. Every so often, I would spot a black or red butterfly. Whenever I did, a sharp chill would creep up my spine. After a particularly strong one, I asked Shíjiān about it when we returned. She explained that the white butterflies were white souls, spirits of the deceased. The black ones were souls of malevolent beings, such as demons and those shrouded within darkness. She said the red ones were rare, but powerful beings that preyed on other spirits. They stole the soul of their prey, dead or living, in a slow and excruciating process. They would feel their very essence being torn from them. To change the subject, I asked why she called me Bear. She told me it was because that was my spirit animal, the shape my soul took. Well... half of it. She refused to elaborate.
(POV Change)
Bear turned away from me with a disappointed look upon her face. I made the error of starting something I was unwilling to finish. If I would have told her, it would have ended her. Shattered her remaining consciousness and leave only what she calls 'the darkness'. You see, her spirit is not whole, as this 'darkness' embodies. While half is bear, the other is a darkness that refuses to take a form. A lost soul, if you will, attached to her somehow. It is possibly the origin of her abilities as well. She has been using these abilities for most, if not all her life. If she learned that they may have originated from a malevolent leech spirit... Do you now see my error in even mentioning it? I should have held my tongue! What would my guardian say? She would probably tell me to learn the lesson this experience wishes to teach me. Before I forget to tell you, Reader. My guardian, you may call her Kōngjiān. It is in an ancient tongue native to your world, meaning Space as she occupies every space while I am in no time. Kōngjiān hé Shíjiān, Space and Time.
. . .
As time came and passed, Bear started leaving early in the morning and would not return until late in the afternoon. When I asked where she went, she told me she went to a place she called 'School', a place where she learned many things. It sounded interesting, so I asked if I cloud come. She said I could, but I had to swear that whatever I saw or heard, I was to remain silent and unseen by those around her. If I wished, I could try to learn anything I could understand. If there as anything I could not understand, I could ask her through her mind and she would answer to the best of her abilities. The next day, I rode on her shoulders through many corridors filed with countless living souls. Coming, leaving, sitting, standing. Constant motion from one subject to the next. I learned of numbers and their role in something called Calculus. Of long words in another. In a large room, we entered a smaller one full of metal boxes. One of them belonged to Bear from which she took clothing and donned it, replacing her current clothing. She had me dismount for this, but still allowed me to follow. She and many others ran, lifted heavy objects and returned to their former attire. In the smaller room, while they were all changing, I heard some of them speaking cruelly of Bear, openly and loudly. Then they all started singing something that kept repeating the phrase 'Rain, Rain go away.' This seemed to disturb Bear. I could see the barrier of silence she put around herself as she feigned ignorance. The song finished and Bear allowed me on her shoulders again. As we left, they pointed and laughed. Bear showed no emotion, but I could feel them roiling just beneath her skin. We went to the next room and Bear could not focus on her studies. I pitied her and slowly drew her shame and unrest onto myself. Fast enough to relive her, but not so much that she noticed. As I drew it upon me, I found it increasingly difficult to stay still and silent. 'I must fulfill my promise. I must not let my emotions control me.' I silently cried, careful not to disturb Bear. Until the final class I could no longer try to learn. She let me off her shoulders and we began the long walk back. We repeated the day's events for two more days. I was careful to not bring the entirety of Bear's troubles upon myself, but silently shared her pain.