Well, that’s the last of it. For now. Tintally breathed a sigh of relief. Even though she never needed sleep since she had been transformed, she was capable of feeling drained from the rounds she had made since weeks ago. But it was a good sort of tired, for she had been staying true to the promise she had made to herself and Arya, the nameless esk. Ever since the fire the two-legged creatures started, she had been working tirelessly to bring everything back to the way it was. It was slow work. But now that the forest was all right again, Tintalle was content, and she finally allowed time for rest.
The squirrels and birds Tintalle had grown so close to cheered; they had tried so hard to get her to pause a little in her mission over the days but failed. After a while, they decided to leave her be as she made her way up on a branch. They had other errands to run for the new day, after all. The branch had become Tintalle’s favourite spot. It allowed her to feel more relaxed as she looked out at the full scenery of her home. As it was not yet autumn, the leaves were still green, saturated compared to the lightest green of her wind. She hadn’t given much thought to her new eleme
ntal since she had gotten it that fateful day, but now that she had the time, she allowed herself to relax and listen. “Time to rest, rest, rest…” the wind told her. So she should. But what was this wind she had gained? It could speak good things and bad. The bad should have caused great suffering to Tintalle, but it had allowed her to protect the forest. That was all that should matter, right? Yes, it should, but it should never be done with greed in mind. Thoughts of her encounters with Ikkit thus far gradually crept in, rendering her unable to clear her mind. To say he was mysterious was an understatement. Why had he allowed the forest to burn without helping? What would have happened if things had not turned out… fine? Tintalle shuddered to think about it, but think about it she did, imagining everything charred in its path. It would have been worse than the unusual situation that had caused the deaths of so many trees and plants, one that Tintalle had helped in its recovery. But then, there was a tug, and Tintalle found herself moving from her spot. If it were to ease the pressures of her wandering mind, Tintalle didn’t know. She only knew she wanted a walk, and this time it didn’t matter where she ended up. With that goal in mind, she found herself moving further away from the forest that she had grown to know. Aspen trees no longer inhabited the land. Trees with larger roots now replaced them, and they were so much taller. Her surroundings had grown damp as well, warmer too, even though sunlight could barely break through the thick forest canopy. Ferns, not often found in the autumnal forest she resided in, were rampant. Dew drops from the morning could still be seen glistening atop their leaves, and Tintalle found them beautiful. As much as she would like to stay still to take it all in, there it was again – a tug on her spirit. Something seemed to push her forward, and she followed, still thinking that it was to do with her own heart. The more she climbed, the more she realised that the trees were thinning considerably. So was the air.
When she finally stopped, it was in front of one of the largest trees she had ever seen. She had to lie on her back to be able to see the top of it, and even if she did, parts of it were obscured by mist. Tintalle paused for a moment and took in its existence reverently before moving from her spot. Whispers that reminded her of her wind found their way to her, and her next few steps were more hesitant.
On the next turn round the circumference of the magnificent tree trunk, passing by large, green shrubs as she did so, she first saw bright red, and then a broken piece of stone lying on the soil. Someone had created something with red strips of… are those cloth? It was the red pieces of cloth that Tintalle first saw, and they were threaded through a rope. Both ends of it were tied to two wooden sticks. Just behind this monument was a larger slab of smooth stone weathered with age and encrusted with dirt, affected further by the large crack that ran down its center.
Tintalle found herself curious. Located at the base of the tree, the stone looked very important, as if it were used to protect the entity it was situated in front of. It was also this stone that seemed to be speaking to her in a way that she could not understand.
Her heart immediately cried when her eyes landed upon the dead vegetation flanking it. Was what the stone faced causing such detrimental effect to its surroundings?
She first tried sending out her spirit energy to the plants. When nothing happened, Tintalle worked to widen her bubble of energy, encasing the stone along with it. Speckles of light rose from the cracks and the unfamiliar symbol that protruded from it. The broken piece lying on the ground floated, then moved on its own. It shifted and turned until it fit nicely. There was a huge burst of light when it was back in its original place. Tintalle stumbled backwards, and when she next glanced about, she would find that the plants had grown back, and the tree, if it had looked magnificent before, now looked even more breath-taking, with more saturation in colour and new growths. A mountain chickadee that had been hiding behind the shrubs made its appearance, slowly inching towards her. It felt as if Tintalle had given this place a new chance at life. It positively glowed, and so did Tintalle. Just as the esk was about to take small steps towards the bird, her vision began to swim. The air seemed to close in around her – the thick humidity. She continued to try taking that step, growing more exhausted by the second. But something terribly cold jolted her awake. She felt it from the tips of her toes, and then very quickly to the other parts of her body. Oh. Tintalle stood there, frozen as she tried to register the event that had just occurred. Her eyes adjusted to the change, and she was soon able to make out the sharp peaks of mountainous rocks blanketed by thick layers of snow. A strong wind ruffled fur and her tail. The shock of the icy cold made her gasp; the realisation that her nature features were no longer present forced another sharp intake of breath. She stumbled once more, then quickly found her footing. There was nothing confusing about this. Apparently, she had been transported into another place. This wasn’t the first time she had encountered thus, although it was the first time it happened without her consent. The air was a lot thinner where she had been taken to. That fact, together with the significant drop in temperature and change in climate, prompted her to understand swiftly that she was on a mountain’s peak. She took in the view from where she stood, at the mountain range that almost blended with the brilliant blue of the sky. Snow covered those peaks as well, and they glowed under the sun. So bright they were it hurt her eyes the longer she gazed at them. Tintalle gradually noticed the familiar tug, a chime from deep within her chest. Dread filled her as she followed the desire that led her upwards, past scarce pine trees. As she did so, she eyed their broken branches and felt the frailty of those trees. Some damaged trunks caught her attention, but still her legs made her move. A small alcove against the mountain wall soon appeared in front of her. Tintalle already knew what to expect, and was not surprised to see another broken shrine just there, hidden in the shadows.
How was she to go home? Had this sudden teleportation been her punishment for restoring something that should have been left broken? She shivered, feeling her muscles tense from anxiety. She was so far from home, and though she found the sights inspiring and curious, she wished she had never decided to climb up the mountain at all in the first place.
Maybe… just maybe, she would be able to get back home if she left the broken stone be.
Tintalle never got anywhere near the shrine despite the pull. The mountain seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, waiting for her to make her decision. Something akin to disappointment reached her as she turned around. Tintalle winced as she stepped on some sharp, discarded needles. She didn’t remember them being there before, but nevertheless, she didn’t stop. The howl of the wind gradually subsided, such that the only sound she could hear was her crunch of her footsteps against the snow crystals.
Her vision, soon, began to blur as she had anticipated. She stood in the middle of the pine forest, braced herself, and got ready for another teleportation.
Something fine and large in number lashed out against her. Beneath her pelt, she could just feel it. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, and Tintalle panicked, knowing at once that where she was being sent to was not home.
Compared to where she had only just come from, the lack of light was jarring. Around her, bits of sand that had been agitated by her arrival finally quietened down.
When she allowed herself to take in her surroundings, she found herself at the bottom of a canyon, trapped on both sides by rough, stony giants. Its walls were splashed with the purples and oranges of sunset. Wherever the sun was, as she was too small to be able to see the shining orb, it had cast long shadows upon the land and where she stood.
She noticed the tug almost immediately, and she dragged her paws as she was once again successfully tempted to follow the shrine’s pull.
The canyon stretched far and beyond, meandering as Tintalle continued forward. The whole time, a gurgling river was her constant companion. She used the sound of the water to help ease her mind, trying to keep herself calm enough so that she could think properly. So deep in her thoughts she was that she didn’t even realise the lizards that scuttled pass her – not even the fish that splashed against the surface.
By the time she reached the singing token, she no longer focused on the exhaustion that dogged her so. Her missing nature features were at the back of her mind, so was the fact that she was slightly transparent, having gone too far from her biome.
This is a broken shrine. Nothing more or less. There could be something else that led up to its existence and its brokenness, but so far, she knew that she had not been hurt. Perhaps there was something out there requiring her help and knew not how to ask for it other than doing things as such.
After taking a deep breath, she went forward, placed a paw on the token’s surface – a sign that she was no longer afraid – and fixed it. Like the first shrine that she encountered, the token began to glow, and the arid vegetation that grew beside it healed. Small bubbles in the river popped behind her. Everything seemed to shine a little brighter, the dullness that she had not realised before moving way for brighter stones, crispier air. For a moment, she was no longer travel-weary.
But it was only for a moment.
Fatigue fell upon her quickly like a veil yet again. The heat of the desert faded. Mist took its place, and Tintalle found herself moving through the cool air. They danced languidly, caressing her like a mother would a child. But Tintalle knew this was not home, and her heart sank.
When the mist cleared, Tintalle found herself on another peak. An esk of immense size greeted her as she walked forward hesitantly. He looked stern, but perhaps there was a bit of a quiet admiration behind that soulful gaze.
Mid-stride, the esk spoke, “You have been on quite the journey. I do not know what took you to those shrines; it was not me.” His voice was gravelly, and it reminded her of little stones that tumbled down a slope. The esk moved his tail… no, not tail, but floating pieces of large rocks behind him. The sight of them filled Tintalle with awe.
But this was not the time to admire his form, for he spoke again, “I do not know what your intentions were, but you have greatly affected my mountains, stranger. Explain.”
Tintalle finally let go of the breath she had held, then told him of everything that had occurred truthfully, stammering horribly as she did so. The esk was far from home, tired after this long ordeal, and she had never felt so powerless and weak. To have a friendly face would have been nice, but there was something about his demeanour that calmed her eventually.
The guardian visibly lightened further upon the end of her tale. Humming thoughtfully, the giant leaned forward a little more, scrutinising her ever more closely. “You have come a long way, forest friend.” Though gravelly, there was warmth in his voice that triggered a strong emotion within the small esk. Finally, she was safe. And somehow, she knew, that he would be able to return her home. When he pulled back, he said, “I am Raaga, Wanderer of the Mountain Biome.” The silence that ensued prompted Tintalle to introduce herself. “I… I am Tintalle. It is nice to meet you, Raaga.” Raaga nodded his white head. “Tintalle, to have caused harm to nothing despite your fear was great and brave. I admire you for that. Please accept this blessing.” Tintalle felt a bubble of warmth engulf her. The air, which had been still only a second ago, began to conjure a light breeze. It felt very similar to her wind, but it was not the same. “What is it?” “A trailing breeze. It is yours, a sign of your friendship with dwellers of my mountains. The lightest wind to remind you of home, so that you will never find yourself alone and afraid.” “Oh… Thank you. Thank you! I love it. Thank you. “You’re welcome. Now, I believe it’s your time to return home. If you follow this path on your left, you will be able to find your way back.” Tintalle turned to face the wide path he indicated. “Thank you.” “Good luck.” As Tintalle walked, she began to think back to all that had happened, and found the fruits of her labour satisfying. So many times had she been forced out of her comfort zone, and come out stronger. She was stronger than she believed herself to be. True to his word, the lightest breeze constantly followed wherever she walked. When she finally reached the more forested areas of the mountain, whatever the breeze picked up followed her along her path. Little leaves, little petals… One time, she paused to have a look at yellow blooms. It was unlike anything that she had seen. The plant grew upwards, strong and sturdy, with green leaves and dotted with the tiniest flowers in multiple clusters. The air was slightly moist, so the surface of it was damp and reflected the sunlight that broke through the canopy. What she had seen was the Ouachita Mountain Goldenrod, one of the endangered plants that can only be found in the mountains. She touched it with the tip of her snout, then continued on her way.
Comments