Written Feb. 4
She stood on her tiptoes and peered
over the thick trunk of a fallen oak, careful not to be seen. The
bird had told it true; three deer - a buck and two does - stood
grazing placidly by the stream. Stifling a giggle, she lightly ran
around the tree and down an old, disused game trail, grown thick with
vines, long golden hair trailing behind her. Oh, what fun she would
have with them!
The path wound around and across the
stream, and presently she was on the side of the stream opposite the
deer, well hidden by a boulder. The buck and a doe, the larger of the
pair, looked to be chewing cud now, and the smaller doe was drinking
from the creek. She recognized them now; the smallest female was new,
but the bigger doe had a distinctive pattern of dots on her rump. The
girl smirked. This would be fun!
She sprang from her hiding spot and
jumped nimbly into the stream, splashing water everywhere. The deer
all froze at once, then scattered, leaping over rocks and brush. She
laughed, but it was a hollow sound, and soon her cheer was gone. Why
did they never stay? She considered running after them, but she knew
them to be faster, and it would bring her little joy this time.
She got out of the stream, and slowly
took off her clothing – a simple thing made of vine and leaves –
and shook the water off of them. Some droplets clung to her body, and
she swiped them off lazily – it was a hot day, after all, and the
water was still cool on her skin.
As she redressed, a small red bird
alighted on her shoulder, chirping loudly. Listening to its tune, she
smiled, cocking her head to one side, and offered a finger to it,
which it stepped onto readily, giving her a moment to pull the
garment's single strap onto her shoulder. It finished its song, and
she whistled back in reply. Satisfied, the bird flew off, and she
grinned. The deer may not wish to befriend her, but the birds made
good company. She had already outlived one generation, the first to
find her and call her sister, but she was happy to be called aunt by
the next. Weren't they all children of the forest? Hatchmates of tree
and stream alike?
Suddenly, there was a disturbance
behind her, a great rustle of wings, and a loud caw-ing.
She turned, and wrinkled her nose. A great raven was perched on the
stone she had hidden behind not moments ago, and regarded her warily.
It was not unwise to do so; she knew ravens and crows to be
intelligent, more so than the sparrows and robins that visited her,
and warned others of danger, but they were also scavengers and
thieves, and rude as well, and she did not like them. This one was
known to her, as well; he had a scar on his beak from some attack
from a cat or wolf long ago. She had long forgotten what it had said
to her on their last meeting, but the encounter had ended with her
throwing rocks at the bird.
Her greeting
whistle was terse. What do you want? Go away.
His
reply stopped her heart and breath. Fire, south of here. He
flapped his great wings and sped away, cawing his warning as he went.
Fire in the south! Gather your young and flee! Hie you to
the north! Fire in the south!
This was not the
spirited running of before, with the only goal to scare some deer.
She was sprinting, whistling the same warning as the crow, but
fleeing all the same. Fire to the south! Run north! Quickly! She
soon lost the breath for this, but the message spread and the whole
forest moved. Deer and wolves and birds of every color and size sped
north and away from the fire.
The girl soon
halted, nearly out of breath. Had she ever run so hard and so fast?
She couldn't remember ever being in such terror. Allowing herself a
brief respite, she looked around and saw a tree good for climbing;
gulping down air, she scrambled up it to the very top, coming to
stand on a thick branch above the canopy.
She had seen the
forest before from this height, but never in such desperate danger.
The crow had not lied. The entire southern horizon was alight, thick
clouds of smoke billowing up from the canopy. She knew, instinctively, that this was part of the renewal of the forest –
that dead leaves and needles coating the ground could not stay there
forever without someday catching fire, and that it was good for the
soil – but this looked bad. Terrible.
And it was coming
towards her, like a living thing seeking fresh prey.
She scurried down
the tree again and began to run. She could smell the smoke now, and
hear the sounds of distressed birds, her kind, crying out for help
that she could not render. All the while the fire pressed in close;
she was fast but the fire was faster, impossibly. Soon she felt the
heat on her back, and heard the crackle of flames. Somewhere a
sap-filled tree exploded with a loud thud. She ran faster
still, her lungs crying out for a halt she could not allow them. It
was run or die.
Then she realized
the path she was on. The lake. The lake! Her feet had carried
her here without her knowing it, but now she ran with purpose. If
she could reach the lake she would be safe, at least for a time.
Smoke blew freely
around her now, and began to obscure her vision. Her eyes stung and
wept, and she thought the ground under her bare feet would soon catch
fire from the sheer heat surrounding her. Then her vine-dress did,
and she ripped it off in a panic. Not further now. Not much
further. A few more yards. A few more.
She reached the
shore.
She dove, closing
her eyes against the smoke and the water.
The pool was sweet
relief, but when she surfaced, the forest blazed around her, and she
wept for the only home she had known.
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