Chapter Five: Horienzi
They had landed on Horienzi an hour ago and were now unpacking in their reserved rooms, compliments of Captain Grunehf. Travis and Jon shared a room, along with Trip and Malcolm. Hoshi, however, received special attention from Grunehf and received her own room.
With a sigh, she walked to her own little patio overlooking the city. Trees of all sorts—different sizes, shapes, and colors—arrayed the city. She laughed to herself; she had never seen a blue tree in her life. There was also the green animal that had jumped onto her patio earlier which reminded her of a tiny armadillo.
She walked back inside and plopped on her bed. It was soft, like sleeping on feathers. Hoshi immediately sat up, knowing if she continued to lie on the bed she would fall asleep and lose her entire day of sightseeing.
Quickly, she slipped on her comfortable sandals and headed out of her room.
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The main village was crowded. Hoshi saw a Horienzi mother disciplining her child, Horienzi men pulling lumber and goods to trade in the market, and what looked to be teenage Horienzis playing a game, of some sort, with a bottle.
"Krisugh meliogf imanuh offlij."
Hoshi turned her attention in the direction of the heavy voice. She walked to a small cottage secluded from the rest of the village and saw an elderly Horienzi with young children surrounding her. They were sitting with their faces in awe. Apparently, they were listening to a story the elderly Horienzi was relating to them.
"Now, children," the woman continued, "what story would you like to hear now?" She paused when she saw Hoshi, and then smiled.
"Ah, I think a perfect story has come into my mind. Come," she patted the empty space in front of her, "sit with us, stranger."
Hoshi complied and sat before the woman.
"Long ago, there lived a beautiful Horienzi woman. She had hair the color of the rising sun, and eyes as blue as the leaves of some of our beloved trees. Her name was Huielih and she loved to sing. She was a wonderful singer and she would go to the woods during the day, singing to her heart's content.
"One day, while in the woods, she fell and tumbled down a path. When she woke, she found herself in a part of the woods she had not been before. She looked around her and saw, a few feet away, a young Horienzi man. He lay on the ground, quiet and still. Quickly, she ran to him and noticed his arm was bleeding. She ripped the edge of her skirt and bandaged his arm to stop the bleeding. As she gazed upon his face, she realized how beautiful he was. His hair was as dark as the night, and his cheek ridges were very prominent along with the ones on his nose. All day and night, she stayed with him, tending to his wound.
"The next morning, the young man awoke. To his surprise, he found a beautiful Horienzi woman lying next to him. And he found his arm had healed.
"When Huielih woke, she was alone. Saddened at being abandoned, she traveled back to her village. But, everyday, she would venture off into the deep part of the woods, to find him. And one day, she found him.
"They became close as friends. He would teach her the skills of the forest and she would teach him the skills of the village. Huielih learned his name, Fregji, meaning bird in our language. She made a remark about that and he shied away. She never understood why.
"As their fondness for each other grew, they apparently fell in love. But neither spoke the words, fearing it would ruin everything.
"It was a dark day, the darkest day of Fregji's life. He had waited for Huielih and she never came. It was the day he would tell her of his undying love for her, but she never came. Heartbroken, he turned back into Jiemia, the most beautiful bird on our planet and one never seen. He flew away, away from his home, the forest, never to be seen again.
"You see, Fregji never knew that Huielih was given in marriage to another man, and she herself did not know until that day, for it was the day of her secret wedding. She cried for she knew she would never see her true love again. And she never did."
"Some say they have seen Jiemia, others say it is a mere legend. But what can we learn, children? What is more tragic? Losing the one you love," she looked at Hoshi, "or never confessing your love?"
One child said, "Losing the one you love." Another said, "No, it is more tragic to never confess your love."
"I think," Hoshi broke in, "that it just hurts to know. It hurts to know that you lost the one you love and, at the same time, that you never confessed your love."