For Narim and Mallora, life was strangely peaceful. They could hear the melee on the edges of the forest, yet buried deep within the embrace of the trees, where no man dared to enter, all they could hear was the cacophony of life that had fled to this place. With their backs warmed by the sun that radiated through this small clearing, Narim and Mallora giggled to eachother. The horned beetle under their assault struggled furiously to free itself from the leaf they'd placed over it.
"Beetles are much stronger and you and I are, relative to their size. Almost 850 times their own weight." Mallora whispered as they watched.
"But 'llora, don't the beetle get scared being under that big leaf like that?" Narim asked innocently. He reached down the pluck the leaf from beetle and instantly recoiled, tears tracking down his grubby face.
"Oh, 'llora. It IS scared. It thinks we're going to kill it!" Narim clasped his tiny knees to his chest and buried his face, shuddering. Having long since kept the form of an Elfling herself, it was easy for Mallora to gather him in her arms and console him. Even at this young age, his Tarik skills were well advanced. They had advanced far more than his maturity could handle. He was still so young that even the tiniest conducted emotions could overwhelm him.
"It's alright, love. Let's just get you back home, alright?"
Well into the night when Mallora discovered that Narim had gone missing. Being linked to him, she could feel what he felt, but his being a Tarik made it difficult to discern whether or not the distress she felt was his own, or something he had conducted.
It was several hours of dark wandering that finally led her to Narim curled in a ball on the ground sobbing. Mallora pulled him up from the ground, unable to bear the waves of emotional distress that emanated from him. He looked up at her, pain streaking his face, hands clasps together tightly at his chest.
"What do you have there?" Mallora asked sharply, but Narim just shook his head.
"That's alright. Let's just get home. It's dark and cold."
They traversed home in silence. Not even the night creatures made a sound. It was as if the whole wood reverberated with pain that night. Mallora was glad to be away from the silence when they arrived to their temple home and the soft moss beds that awaited them. It was a restless sleep, but sleep all the same.
The next week was strangely tense for them. Little Narim spent the daylight hours reorganizing the bits of things they kept around from the ruined Great Hall, one hand clutched tightly around a leather pouch, concealing what he had inside. It was clear from the odor that emanated from him that whatever it was that he kept hidden used to be alive. His mourning affected Mallora as well. She was unable to find that usual joy in everyday life that she loved so much and in turn it affected her temper.
At the end of the week, Mallora could no longer stand the sad tension. She sought the counsel of Mother Linn. No one in the wood really knew what Mother Linn really was. Some guessed she was a Forest Deity, others guessed she was simply a Mafaeri woman that had escaped to the wood from the war that raged outside. Nonetheless, the Mother's wisdom was highly sought out by the creatures that lived here.
Mallora settled herself on the edge of the stream, just watching the minnows spin circles in the reflected forest that hovered above her. It was peaceful here, even with the lingering distress that buzzed in her mind.
"Mallora, dear child, what distresses you so?" a soft voice filtered from the stream. It was always breathtaking to experience Mother Linn materialize out of nowhere on the other side of the stream. She truly was a beautiful creature with white gold ringlets that had grown so long they kept Mother's bare form cloaked to the very tips of her toes. Large azure eyes glittered with knowledge and beauty, set upon a face that seemed to deny time itself. "It has kept the entire wood in tension for many days."
"It is Narim, Mother, he is distressed beyond words."
"And for one so young, he must only be 6 or seven winters, correct?"
"yes Mother"
"And his Tarik has not evened out. He's unable to control the flow of emotional energy?"
Mallora just lowered her eyes. At that moment, she felt like a failure.
"It isn't entirely your fault, Mallora. I know you are working hard. He is, after all, still a frail child. Its because you bound him to you that he is still alive. Yet it is his frailty that keeps you bound to this wood."
Mallora wanted to weep upon hearing this aloud. She was an Equidan, meant to wander and learn and discover. It was in her very blood to keep moving yet being bound to one who could barely stay alive on his own without constant healing and attention, she could go no where.
"Perhaps it is time for you two to make a journey. I have it on good authority that there is one on the coast of Zchi that can help ease this child's pain."
"But how on earth can we make such a journey?" Mallora wondered.
"With care. If nothing else, we must move him from this wood. The creatures of this wood cannot suffer his Tarik any longer until it is controlled."
"But, if he dies, then so shall I." Mallora protested.
"But if he does not, we all may. Just yesterday there were two mourning sessions from various creatures diving into the stream to escape the inexplicable sadness. How many more will follow? His Tarik is simply too strong."
"So this is... exile from the wood." For a moment Mallora couldn't breathe. Despite her wanderlust, she couldn't bear the thought of not being able to return to her home. Anger suddenly took over her and with one fierce cry she thrust her fist into the nearest tree trunk.
"Please try to understand." Mother Linn's voice trailed off. Mallora knew that it was not out of ignorance or spite that they were turned away, there was simply no way that Mother or anyone else here could save them.
"I understand." Mallora tried to respond, but Mother Linn had already disappeared.
She tried to abate her anger as she traveled back to what was no longer their home, but between that and the intermingled sadness that permeated the wood, she could not help venting. What were they to do? Surely Narim would die out there.
She entered the once Great Hall of Manacaru with shocked surprise. Everything had been upturned, disheveled. The rich moss that had grown between the stones had been raked up exposing moist earth. There was no sign of Narim at first, but suddenly he flew from the darkness into her arms.
"I'm so angry, ''llora. Why am i so angry?" Narim, along with the smothering reek of death, enveloped her.
"It's nothing, dear child." She pushed him away roughly and settled down on the muddy patch that used to be their bed. "You did all this?" she asked, weeping softly.
"I'm sorry, 'llora. I was just so angry i didn't know what to do." Narim looked down at his feet. "Maybe i'm just mad at myself." He sat down next to her. "I made something die, 'llora." he whispered slowly.
"Is that what all this has been about?" Mallora inquired. Narim nodded and opened the pouch to produce what used to be a tiny hawk. It's claws were frozen around a half eaten horned beetle yet it's neck flopped about lazily. Maggots had already claimed the creature's eyes, slithering languidly up the feather beak and onto Narim's hand. Recoiling, Mallora slapped the thing from his hand.
"Narim, this thing is dirty. Touching dead things can make you very sick." Narim was clearly pained by her repulsion and gathered the bird back into his hands.
"I killed the bird because it had killed the beetle that we trapped under the leaf. It was my fault the beetle died." Narim's face screwed into a mien of extreme anguish and pain. "I wanted to make it better, I was so angry at the hawk that i jumped on it and killed it."
Mallora didn't have time to be fascinated by the stealth it must have taken to leap upon a feasting hawk as this thin, frail child must have done. It was this story along that gave her hope that maybe they would make it outside the wood after all.
"So you've learned your lesson concerning death, then. No one death can reverse another, child. Let's mourn these creatures and prepare for a journey. We are to leave as soon as we have rested."
She didn't have the heart to tell him they could not return.
"Beetles are much stronger and you and I are, relative to their size. Almost 850 times their own weight." Mallora whispered as they watched.
"But 'llora, don't the beetle get scared being under that big leaf like that?" Narim asked innocently. He reached down the pluck the leaf from beetle and instantly recoiled, tears tracking down his grubby face.
"Oh, 'llora. It IS scared. It thinks we're going to kill it!" Narim clasped his tiny knees to his chest and buried his face, shuddering. Having long since kept the form of an Elfling herself, it was easy for Mallora to gather him in her arms and console him. Even at this young age, his Tarik skills were well advanced. They had advanced far more than his maturity could handle. He was still so young that even the tiniest conducted emotions could overwhelm him.
"It's alright, love. Let's just get you back home, alright?"
Well into the night when Mallora discovered that Narim had gone missing. Being linked to him, she could feel what he felt, but his being a Tarik made it difficult to discern whether or not the distress she felt was his own, or something he had conducted.
It was several hours of dark wandering that finally led her to Narim curled in a ball on the ground sobbing. Mallora pulled him up from the ground, unable to bear the waves of emotional distress that emanated from him. He looked up at her, pain streaking his face, hands clasps together tightly at his chest.
"What do you have there?" Mallora asked sharply, but Narim just shook his head.
"That's alright. Let's just get home. It's dark and cold."
They traversed home in silence. Not even the night creatures made a sound. It was as if the whole wood reverberated with pain that night. Mallora was glad to be away from the silence when they arrived to their temple home and the soft moss beds that awaited them. It was a restless sleep, but sleep all the same.
The next week was strangely tense for them. Little Narim spent the daylight hours reorganizing the bits of things they kept around from the ruined Great Hall, one hand clutched tightly around a leather pouch, concealing what he had inside. It was clear from the odor that emanated from him that whatever it was that he kept hidden used to be alive. His mourning affected Mallora as well. She was unable to find that usual joy in everyday life that she loved so much and in turn it affected her temper.
At the end of the week, Mallora could no longer stand the sad tension. She sought the counsel of Mother Linn. No one in the wood really knew what Mother Linn really was. Some guessed she was a Forest Deity, others guessed she was simply a Mafaeri woman that had escaped to the wood from the war that raged outside. Nonetheless, the Mother's wisdom was highly sought out by the creatures that lived here.
Mallora settled herself on the edge of the stream, just watching the minnows spin circles in the reflected forest that hovered above her. It was peaceful here, even with the lingering distress that buzzed in her mind.
"Mallora, dear child, what distresses you so?" a soft voice filtered from the stream. It was always breathtaking to experience Mother Linn materialize out of nowhere on the other side of the stream. She truly was a beautiful creature with white gold ringlets that had grown so long they kept Mother's bare form cloaked to the very tips of her toes. Large azure eyes glittered with knowledge and beauty, set upon a face that seemed to deny time itself. "It has kept the entire wood in tension for many days."
"It is Narim, Mother, he is distressed beyond words."
"And for one so young, he must only be 6 or seven winters, correct?"
"yes Mother"
"And his Tarik has not evened out. He's unable to control the flow of emotional energy?"
Mallora just lowered her eyes. At that moment, she felt like a failure.
"It isn't entirely your fault, Mallora. I know you are working hard. He is, after all, still a frail child. Its because you bound him to you that he is still alive. Yet it is his frailty that keeps you bound to this wood."
Mallora wanted to weep upon hearing this aloud. She was an Equidan, meant to wander and learn and discover. It was in her very blood to keep moving yet being bound to one who could barely stay alive on his own without constant healing and attention, she could go no where.
"Perhaps it is time for you two to make a journey. I have it on good authority that there is one on the coast of Zchi that can help ease this child's pain."
"But how on earth can we make such a journey?" Mallora wondered.
"With care. If nothing else, we must move him from this wood. The creatures of this wood cannot suffer his Tarik any longer until it is controlled."
"But, if he dies, then so shall I." Mallora protested.
"But if he does not, we all may. Just yesterday there were two mourning sessions from various creatures diving into the stream to escape the inexplicable sadness. How many more will follow? His Tarik is simply too strong."
"So this is... exile from the wood." For a moment Mallora couldn't breathe. Despite her wanderlust, she couldn't bear the thought of not being able to return to her home. Anger suddenly took over her and with one fierce cry she thrust her fist into the nearest tree trunk.
"Please try to understand." Mother Linn's voice trailed off. Mallora knew that it was not out of ignorance or spite that they were turned away, there was simply no way that Mother or anyone else here could save them.
"I understand." Mallora tried to respond, but Mother Linn had already disappeared.
She tried to abate her anger as she traveled back to what was no longer their home, but between that and the intermingled sadness that permeated the wood, she could not help venting. What were they to do? Surely Narim would die out there.
She entered the once Great Hall of Manacaru with shocked surprise. Everything had been upturned, disheveled. The rich moss that had grown between the stones had been raked up exposing moist earth. There was no sign of Narim at first, but suddenly he flew from the darkness into her arms.
"I'm so angry, ''llora. Why am i so angry?" Narim, along with the smothering reek of death, enveloped her.
"It's nothing, dear child." She pushed him away roughly and settled down on the muddy patch that used to be their bed. "You did all this?" she asked, weeping softly.
"I'm sorry, 'llora. I was just so angry i didn't know what to do." Narim looked down at his feet. "Maybe i'm just mad at myself." He sat down next to her. "I made something die, 'llora." he whispered slowly.
"Is that what all this has been about?" Mallora inquired. Narim nodded and opened the pouch to produce what used to be a tiny hawk. It's claws were frozen around a half eaten horned beetle yet it's neck flopped about lazily. Maggots had already claimed the creature's eyes, slithering languidly up the feather beak and onto Narim's hand. Recoiling, Mallora slapped the thing from his hand.
"Narim, this thing is dirty. Touching dead things can make you very sick." Narim was clearly pained by her repulsion and gathered the bird back into his hands.
"I killed the bird because it had killed the beetle that we trapped under the leaf. It was my fault the beetle died." Narim's face screwed into a mien of extreme anguish and pain. "I wanted to make it better, I was so angry at the hawk that i jumped on it and killed it."
Mallora didn't have time to be fascinated by the stealth it must have taken to leap upon a feasting hawk as this thin, frail child must have done. It was this story along that gave her hope that maybe they would make it outside the wood after all.
"So you've learned your lesson concerning death, then. No one death can reverse another, child. Let's mourn these creatures and prepare for a journey. We are to leave as soon as we have rested."
She didn't have the heart to tell him they could not return.
