CHAPTER 11
EXPLORE
Kiethara was hovering in the blissful state between sleep and consciousness. The morning sun was kissing at her cheeks and a cool wind was playing with her hair. Her breathing came in a slow, steady rhythm that matched the slight rock her hammock had, the same rock that she couldn’t sleep without.
Consciousness finally beat all the drowsiness from Kiethara. She pulled herself upright and stretched, trying not to think of the work that lay before her, unfinished. Well, it was nothing but the result of slacking off, for she had had plenty of time to do it after Navadar had left, but she had decided against it.
Finally, she made it to her feet. Using her fingers, Kiethara began to detangle and unweave the leaves whirling around in the natural disaster that was her hair. It took a few good minutes until she was unknotted and then she bent down to pick up the little leather bag of mystifying seeds Aaron had given her. The bag felt light. She peeked inside, squinting at the small bout of brightness that escaped from the opening and, to her dismay, made out that there were only a few seeds left. Time for a refill.
Skipping and humming her familiar melody, Kiethara made her way to the center of the forest. Some of the leaves were slowly beginning to change color, making her think about Navadar’s talk about seasons. Most were still green, however, and some stayed green all year long. Very few trees lost all or any of their leaves in the winter here in the forest. Aaron had told her that the vast amount of magic present was the reason behind it.
Finally, the innumerable trees thinned and altogether stopped to let her into the clearing that she had come to know and love. The lake tantalized her, but she resisted the urge. It was unnecessary.
An unnatural breeze picked up, tossing some leaves into the crisp morning air. A light at the opposite end of the clearing appeared, growing brighter and brighter as it came towards her.
The figure of a man, made completely of light, was walking towards her.
“Good morning, Kiethara.” The Spirit of Aaron greeted her.
“Hello,” she nodded. “I think I need some more seeds.”
“I suppose you do; I’ll fetch some more,” he assured her, and with that, he took the bag from Kiethara’s outstretched hand and walked away until the vegetation consumed him.
Aaron returned quickly, the brown bag now bulging once more with seeds, light streaming out of the leather’s imperfections.
“Thank you,” she bowed her head, taking the bag from him. “Aaron, I have a question.”
“I knew you would,” he chuckled.
“Really? How?”
“You’re naturally curious,” he replied simply. “There isn’t a single detail that you miss. Being vigilant is something to be praised for.”
“Does it help me in my role as a guardian?” she asked. Aaron seemed to know more about herself than she did.
“Yes, Kiethara,” he sighed. For some reason, it made her feel foolish.
“Anyway, you know how I fainted after my fight with Sinsenta?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I had no idea where I had been. I started wondering…Truly, how big is the forest?”
“Far larger than you have ever imagined,” Aaron said matter-of-factly.
“How big?” she asked wearily. Surely he was just exaggerating?
“I would say you could multiply the area of the forest you know by at least a thousand times and there would still be some forest unaccounted for.”
“What?!” she gasped. She felt as though she had been punched in the gut.
Kiethara felt as though a heavy weight had suddenly been brought down on her shoulders, pressing down hard, constricting her breathing until it was labored. Stress exploded inside her. It caused her heart to pound, caused her palms to sweat. It seemed too much to handle. To heavy, too much, too impossible.
“Impossible,” she repeated aloud.
How could she guard a forest that big? If what Aaron said was true…well, she felt as though his words had just sentenced the forest to death.
It would be all her fault.
“Kiethara, you are overreacting!” Aaron told her fiercely. She responded by looking up at him with naked panic lucid in her navy blue eyes.
“Relax,” he ordered, but gently. “I will teach you how to handle the forest…when the time is right. The forest is not in danger now.”
“But—”
“If you are so worried, why do you not go and explore some of it today?” he interrupted.
“You sure?” she mumbled sarcastically. “I won’t get lost?”
“Shout if you need me.”
“Always do,” Kiethara called over her shoulder as she began to make her way out of the clearing, the bag of seeds swinging at her side.
Kiethara hurried to her own clearing to drop off the seeds, anxious to start exploring. The concept of new forest, new territory, new mysteries…
She fingered at the golden locket that was nuzzled into the nape of her neck; tracing the letter inscribed there, with all its twists and curves, following the path it made on the precious, priceless heart. It was sealed, as always, holding its own mysteries. She remembered the day she found it, the day the forest revealed it to her…
Eleven year old Kiethara was walking towards her clearing, humming the inexplicable melody forever ingrained inside her head. She was coming from the west and, through the gaps in the trees, she had seen her hammock waving at her in the slight breeze. The sun was visible behind her, illuminating the forest floor with rays of golden evening light.
That was when she had spotted it.
The locket had lain at the base of a tree. The metal heart had sparkled, winked at her suddenly, all the while bending green blades of grass as it lay unobtrusively on the forest floor. Even from where she stood, the engraved letter had been visible. It curved and looped and bended back over on itself in various places, never once stopping. The letter turned into a vine—a gorgeous, delicate vine—that seemed to encircle the locket until it met once more with the top of the letter E.
The chain of the locket was just as memorizing. Each link seemed to be different, but they flowed so smoothly together she could only figure they were all the same. Though their size varied, it had a sophisticatedly crafted appeal to it; the one obvious similarity for the entire piece was that each link lacked any flaw. Thick or thin, tiny or large; each was ideal.
Together, their individual perfection became an indivisible whole. Together, they created a masterpiece. Together, they made a work of art that was fluid even when motionless.
The chain lay in between the blades of the grass, but the space inside was not empty. A white rose towered over the locket, just as pretty as the hand-crafted beauty that surrounded its stem. The petals were pure as they twisted out of the emerald stem, lacking any trace of wilt. Also, she noticed, this rose had no thorns.
Kiethara did not know how long she stood there, still as a tree. The only movement was the rise and fall of her chest, like leaves moving in the blustery weather. The sparkle of the locket hardly seemed to dull, even though the light that had cast it into her line of sight had long since faded as its source sunk towards the horizon.
Finally, she shook herself back to life and sprinted forwards toward the locket. She knelt, taking in the powerful scent of the rose. Gently, as though it were made of glass, she picked it up, making sure to loop the chain over the rose without hitting the floral wonder. She examined it closely, soaking her discovery in. Then she studied the letter E.
The answer struck her immediately.
Earthaphoria.
Her mother.
Tears welled up in eleven year old Kiethara’s navy blue eyes and she clutched the locket to her pounding heart…