Instinct: Gabrielle

Gabrielle

Gabrielle shouted, from underneath the most bizarre contraption Ryker had seen her create yet.  “Its called the Summoner!  Guess what it does!!”

“Um. . .summons?”  Ryker laughed at his mud streaked sister, as she climbed through the contraption, until she reached the top.  She looked down, grinned at him, grabbed a rope and jumped-- swinging down towards him and landing, neatly on her feet a mere foot in front of him. 

Ryker never flinched.  Disappointed, Gabrielle wiped her muddy hands on her pants, “So.  What’d you bring me for lunch?”  Flashing her best “feed me” grin, she laughed, and gave her brother a hug—while reaching around to pull an apple from his pack.”

“Hey!  That was dessert!”  Ryker laughed at his sister, and followed her down a path to the front of her home, a tower of gadgets and contraptions that reached up above the canopy. 

“The Summoner.  It summons.  I can use it to send messages to Simon.  You know how he wanders . . . He gets this-- 

She handed him something tiny, on a leather cord, it was shaped like a beetle, shining metallic green, Ryker placed it around his neck.  Ryker thought of his four year old nephew, Simon had an affinity for discovering the tiniest critters.  He would rescue them from the strangest places—although Ryker suspected the forest was placing them for Simon to find—and would carry them with him for a few days, before finding a suitable home. 

“All I have to do is open mine”, she held a metallic blue beetle in her hand, which was otherwise identical to the green one, and opened its wings, “and rub its belly, and. . ..” 

The green beetle opened its wings, turned around a few times in his hand, flew directly into his chest three times, and then turned and flew towards Gabrielle, pulling him forwards a bit.

Ryker was astonished.  “This is BRILLIANT!”  He walked around her in a circle, watching the gadget adjust its path as he moved.  “How’s it work?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”  Gabrielle laughed, then continued:  “The tower sends a signal that links the two bugs, he can summon me, I can summon him, and we will always be able to find each other.” 

Ryker’s face darkened now, he had serious business to discuss.

“Elisesofia is awake.”

Instinct: Waking (Meet Kitra)

(More to come! I'm still working on the middle part, will post when I'm satisfied with it.)


Ryker crouched close, watching his charge as she slept.  Her body barely moved, her breath slow and even.  The sunlight crept into the room, her dark hair gleaming with hints of red he hadn’t noticed before.  Kitra had been clear: do not wake her, do not touch her, do not question her, do not let anyone in.  She had been sleeping for two days already, the village waiting for her to wake—even the children sensed the importance of this stranger, and kept silent, lined up outside Kitra’s home, waiting. 

He had heard whispers, of course.  Since her arrival the elders had been silent, holed up in their chambers, waiting like everyone else. Was she truly Nadari’s child?  Did this mean the others were coming?  If so, why weren’t they preparing the archers? 

Ryker stood, silent, waiting for her to speak.  The intrigue surrounding her was almost tangible, as if light itself bent around her protectively. 

“Yes. Nadari was my mother. The others awoke and found me in thecity, gilled my guardians there – all except Everest.” 

She spoke quietly, while staring through the window, not looking, her eyes simply set forward.  He wanted to ask about the others – he had only heard stories, and even those were vague, folklore and old wives tales told to dissuade mischiefvous children.

“They are powerful” – as if she could hear his thoughts – she looked directly at him now, her eyes aflame with hatred, sadness and pain – so much pain, Ryker gasped with the power of it.  Shocked, he stepped back, working to push her mind away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were Chimaeric.  Your eyes. . .”

“They change as I wish. “  This he demonstrated, his eyes flashing from brown to blue to violet. 

“Impressive” She smiled, just slightly. Her new protector was a powerful Chimaera.  She would need to be more careful with her emotions. 

“Please, excuse me.”  Ryker spoke quietly, stepping out of the room to regain his composure.  Where did this. . .creature. . come from?  And why did he want to save her?

Kitra

Kitra stood waist deep in the river, laughing as the children splashed and swam around her. As Ryker approached she stood tall, her face growing serious. 

“You were not to leave her.” 

Ryker bowed his head, ashamed. How could he protect Elisesofia when she possessed more power than any being Ryker had ever encountered?

Kitra’s face softened—“She is incredible, isn’t she? I must tell you . . .”

Ryker interrupted his leader, “We were bonded as children, weren’t we?  You thought she 
was human.  The infant I kept.” 

All Chimaera, at age 5, are given a human infant, often taken in from orphanages.  Occasionally the chimaeric child wanders into the forest, and returns with an infant whose origin is unknown – it is believed that the forest senses the power of the Chimaera and provides the infant.  The chimaeric child must protect and nurture the infant until it begins to speak.  Usually about a year, sometimes less as the Chimaera assist the child and provide superior development. 

Kitra smiled, most Chimaera do not remember this bond.  “Everest saw that she was weakened, biven the trauma of her short life.  We decided that your power may be strong enough to repair the damage.  When she began to speak you were enchanted with her.  We had a difficult time removing her from your care.”

This Ryker remembered. He had packed up the infant and headed out into the forest, his six year old self certain she would be safer kept away from any and all people.  

Instinct: Old Forest

Old Forest

She knew, as she approached the clearing, what would happen next, some memories never fade.  Pausing at the edge of the forest Elisesofia braced herself, before stepping into the bright light that fell amid the wildflowers.  Still shrouded in her cloak, she slowly moved towards the center, head down, silent, listening. 

“What is your purpose?”  The voice came out from directly in front of her, smooth and flowing, like the music made by the flowing of an isolated brook, high in the mountains.  It was not threatening, but serious, with a slight inflection that gave away curiosity. 

“I must speak to Kitra.”  This was all she knew.  Kitra could help. 

“What is your name?” This voice, identical to the other, came slowly, on her right. 

“Elisesofia.”  This she whispered.  She had not spoken her own, true name in years. 

There was no response.

Elisesofia waited.  Then looking up for the first time since she had entered the clearing, began to speak, telling beginning of her story:

remnant of Love

dim light illuminates her,

standing naked once more, proud.

shivering as cool air

passes over pale skin

that now swells to reveal new growth

the last remnant of Love.

she shakes away the single tear and stands, strong.

to walks back into the deep comfort of the forest.

rain falls quietly in the night, again

and she runs, wildly in the dark

carrying the child born to destiny,

with spite following just behind

crossing through the waters
she hands the child to the trees
and turns, facing spite

from the trees emerge the few
who still believe in Love's remnant,

and without a word they stand to fight.

Upon these last words Elisesofia Petlykov sank to the ground where her mother fought, her legs unwilling to bear the burden.  Around her form stood the elves, tall and thin, like wisps of fog.  Their skin was pale, glowing delicately with a soft light.  Their heads bent low, long hair well past their hips, in pale shades of green, shrouding their faces.  In silence, the elves gathered her, carrying her through the forest, to Kitra.  

Instinct- On the Run.

I'm still working on this, who knows, maybe it'll become something.  

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Elisesofia Petlykov stopped to splash cool water on her face, flush from running, streaked with mud, scratched from brambles.  She was three days of running, hiking and hiding, into the forest.  She paused to listen for a minute, hearing only the calls and scuffling of the critters in the forest.  Stepping into the cool water she waded into a small pool, about waist deep on her small frame.  Her dark hair hung in a tight braid over her shoulder, and she slowly untwisted it, laying back to rinse it in the calm, clear water.   This was the first time she had truly stopped in three days. 

The message had been simple and clear.  “Travel West.  Find Kitra.  She will help you.”  It was thrust into her hand as she was pushed onto a horse, pointed west and told, by one angry, serious Everest, “Run, child, RUN!”  Scribbled on a scrap of paper that was likely older than she was, torn from some ancient map, with the edge of a vast forest shown only in a hint of green along one of the torn edges. 

She had been in the forest for three days now, setting out each morning, away from the sun, and ending each day by following it.  At night she climbed high into the canopy, listening for those who hunted her and waiting for the first glimpse of light. 

Kitra.  She knew Kitra as Everest’s mother, who had helped her, and her parents long ago.  But Everest was an old, old man now, surely Kitra was no longer alive? Perhaps the name was passed down?  Or was this a glimpse of the magic she knew the forest held?  

Instinct (Character Development: Everest)

I've been working on this for awhile.  I'm not sure I like where it's going quite yet, still trying to shape the characters a bit, feedback would be greatly appreciated! 


A note if anyone is keeping tabs on the story-- I changed Matthew's name to Everest--- for now.  Still figuring things out, slowly.  

IN THE FOREST—Everest’s Story

“Well, the forest once told me a story, though I didn’t know it at the time.  A story of the rest of my life.  I walked down a path in the woods, weaving my way through the trees, breathing in the clean, fresh, earthy air you find only in a forest nowadays.  Birds darted among the trees around me, singing their song and hoping to find a mate, critters shuffled in the underbrush, scampering around as I made my way deeper into the forest, slowly working my way home.

Oberon was making his way behind me.  Now, had we been anywhere else the bear would have been right at my side, even in front of me, checking constantly for threats.  But we were home,  in the deep forest, where the trees are ancient, towering, their trunks creaking, as if they were whispering,  they swayed, pushed by the wind coming off the great sea.  The goof had lagged behind, off chasing butterflies and had to run to catch up when I shouted for him . . . .”

Elisesofia sat, transfixed by Everest’s story—she knew the old man had some magic in him, and could feel it pulling her in—suddenly she was standing in the forest, and a GRIZZLY BEAR was running towards her.  Barely stifling a scream she stepped out of the bear’s way, seeing a much younger version of Everest standing a few feet away she shakes her head – did that bear just wink at her?—and steps closer to Everest and his bear, listening to--is the bear talking?--No, thinking.  Listening to the bear think to Everest. 

Now what’s all the fuss about?  I was just about to catch this giant --oh.  Is that what I think it is? 

On the ground, pooling at Everest’s feet, is a dark green liquid.  Everest picks a twig from the nearest tree and drops it, carefully, into the liquid.  As the twig lands on the liquid it sprouts, leaves leaping out, roots digging into the earth and branches reaching higher and higher--- In a matter of seconds the pool is replaced with a massive tree. 

            “Something killed a wood nymph.” 

Everest reached his arms around the new tree, measuring its growth—the trunk continuing to expand even as he shouts numbers to Oberon, who scratches them into the dirt. 

            “It must be one meter—no, two—no, three” 

The tree shakes and Everest is knocked backward into Oberon—and then, somehow, it turns, twisting its trunk around, and stops--- the tree is. . .looking? Looking at Everest.  Slowly a knot forms under what must be eyes.  It opens. . . it. . speaks:

“Thank you, son of Kitra.”  It waits a moment, nods at Oberon, who is lying flat on his stomach, terrified.  Everest glances over at his companion—some protector—and looks up at the tree. 

“What happened to you, spirit?”

“I was killed.  Surely that much is clear?  Oh.  How was I killed, you mean?   Horrid men, with weapons I have never seen.  They got into the deep forest, invaded my home, killed my sisters--- I fought.  I killed eight of them, but there were too many and I was injured.  I ran, calling on the forest to protect me, but somehow they found me, hurt me….I landed here.  They tried to take my body but the forest wouldn’t allow them—the trees reached out and lifted me high above, where THEY could not reach.  When you found me the forest used your magic to transfigure my spirit, so I could warn you.” 

            “Warn me?  Warn me of what?”

Everest was now keenly aware of how close to his home they were—sure, it was protected by ancient magic, but if these humans could kill a wood nymph surely they were working with some other ancient race.  The tree spirit ignored him, instead reaching up with its branches, retrieving its body from the forest.  Elisesofia gasped—the nymph looked strikingly similar to her.  Except that its skin was a light green and its hair had somehow sprouted flowers.  The tree spirit cradled its body for a moment before opening a knot on yet another side.  It deposited the body into the knot, which sealed up and disappeared. 

            “The humans are working with an ancient evil.  I do not yet know what evil this is, but it is growing strong.  It was able to walk through the ancient seal surrounding my home, bringing its men with it.  It was looking for something.  It picked up each child, examined them, destroyed them…

Here the spirit paused, its leaves seemed to shiver, the forest silent and the wind still. 

            “In my new form I have a message for you.  There are two humans and a child running from this evil.  You will encounter them before you reach your home.  They will ask your help.  You must help them.  The child must be protected.  Humans, before they became the greedy, slovenly beings they are now, once walked the forest with the ancients, and some possessed different skills in magic.  This child, it seems, holds the key to that magic.  She is a remarkable little thing.  You MUST help them.” 

Everest looked at the tree spirit.  He had heard the story of the humans before.  He had even seen and worked with humans in his travels.  But why him?  His magic was only minor, healing, vanishing, his ability to understand and speak with Oberon. . . how could he help this child?  Still, here he was, standing before the spirit of a wood nymph, one of the more powerful forest creatures, and it was asking for his help. 

            “I will do all I can.” He offered. 

Instinct-- (some notes from my ramblings)

Pieces of midnight ramblings, hope you like it-- it goes along with this.   

She was a pretty little thing.  Happy and smiling, just beginning to form the sounds that eventually would become words, although now it was all gibberish, gurgles and squeals of delight.  The simplest things, a cool summer breeze, sent her into spiraling, unbridled joy at the fresh, earthy smell carried on the wind.  It calmed her, too, as she drifted off to sleep in her Papa’s arms, blissfully unaware of the dangers the future held. 

Elisesofia Petlykov ran. She ran through dark, empty streets, her cloak billowed behind her, the hood drawn tightly around her face.  Silent, but urgent, like a street cat, chasing its next meal.  She did not look back.  Only forward, searching for the number on the door of the safehouse.  4498.  She had memorized it years ago, as a child—but had never once imagined this day would occur.  All these houses, silent, each exactly like the next: dark, dirty, windows locked and curtains, usually just a black cloth, closed to block any light—from the inside or out.