Chapter 2: The Taste of Sorrow, The Smell of Vengeance
The smell of saltwater clung to the misty air the night I sprinted away from home, from my old life, from Mother and Father. All of my hopes and feelings were tangled in a mess as I ran. The only thought that was driving my legs to get as far away as possible was the fact that I was alone. That single thought drove my legs, washed my mind of all happiness, and drugged my striving spirit with grief. It was calm out here in the tropical rainforest of Paris; all tranquil and silent. Nocturnal creatures of the night were bouncing and darting out of my blurred vision as my long, clumsy legs dashed through bushes and tall weeds. The trees, tall, dark, and eerie, shaded the sodden path ahead as the bushes seemed to have laughed as they crunched away at every footstep I took.
With the stable guidance of the moonlight, I could hear and see a beautiful waterfall; crisp and clean, like silk running along the Earth's damp face.
"Everything has feelings including nature. Rain and hail are signs of sorrow, ponds and quiet lakes are pools of anguish, and clouds are tears held back, while the breezy wind whispers of melancholy. Sunlight is freedom; its heat bringing trust and comfort, the night sky sings a song of pure hope, while the stars wink their passion down to earth."
Beyond the waterfall, I glanced at a tall mountain with its peak dipped in snow. I remembered that every time Father and I could distinguish a sign of a mountain in the distance, he would calmly say, "I want you to be just like that mountain. I want you to grow to be as strong and powerful, yet have feelings of the sun and of water. Grow and be beautiful, have the strength of a waterfall, and above all, be yourself, for nobody does that better than you."
Thoughts were racing in my head as I gazed up into the moon once again. Just an hour ago, I had realized Father had left me and I will never hear those beautiful stories or songs again.
Once before, Mother had told me to look deep into the moon to see memories of the past and predictions of the future that lay ahead. And as live man has shattered the dreams of life within my vision, I could plainly see the gaping hole of those dreams in my mind- the moon's shadow…
Finally, the cloudy haze of thoughts began to calm until it was as clear as the waterfall. I needed some shelter and cover for this night and later I would find help close to Paris, or as I call it, The City of Light.
The night was as black as my thoughts, the clouds were the chains of my mind, and the half covered stars were happiness trapped behind my sorrow. Moonlight flowed all around me, filling the air, bathing the trees with silver. I ran from the waterfall and stopped short when my eyes widened as they came to rest upon a trail of lights. There must have been at least a score of people walking slowly, but excitedly. As their trail ended in a gathering, large dark colored tents propped up neatly in a clearing where there were barely any trees or bushes. This must have been their territory and campsite. I was not a welcome person.
Suddenly, a wind picked up, swift and quickly, like the man who killed Father. The candlelights were swept out as the shouts of men rose higher and higher. I stood a good distance away, about eleven stretches or so away, just so I could make out their shadowy figures in the ill lighting. Two tall men walked or wandered around, obviously drunk and subaltern. A strange-looking man circumspectly watched halfway in one tent and looked somewhat uncomfortable. Three beautiful white horses were asleep and properly tethered to a nearby post connected to the left side of a tent. Nobody seemed to be on guard.
Hungry as I was, I realized that my long blue cloak hid most of me and in the dim lighting, what were the chances of someone catching me? As quickly as I could, I felt my legs push off the moist ground, speed in a straight line towards the back of a tent, the hairs on my neck rise, my heart pounding like a hammer, and a strange sensation arising in my fingers...
