The scene of the dead aspen forest upon her return dulled her mood. Tintalle almost wished to return to where she had just come from, but then a dream had entered her mind, and she got to work immediately.
Tintalle soon found that there was no need for her to rest. Even after the events of that fateful day, she felt physically unaffected by all that was revealed. Other than Arya — the nameless esk — she had not had the opportunity to meet anyone else just yet, not even in the conservatory where she had magically teleported to. Perhaps it would have eased her mind a little more, but she found she did not mind. Tintalle needed some time on her own, both to accept everything she had learnt, and to figure out who she really was. When she was ready, she would seek others out, and maybe discover some more about those who had gone missing. Until then...
What she craved was to see the forest back in its full glory. Tintalle remembered the magnificent tree that was the last one stranding, and had imagined how the forest looked if all the trees in this forest possessed its grandeur. It was... breath-taking. She kept that in mind as she lingered under a tall, dead tree. A piece of rock easily moved from its position, to her surprise, when she focused on a spot near it. But she knew it was no help, and let the rock land elsewhere further away. With determination, she tried again.
Green tendrils eventually found themselves twirling from the soil. Tintalle gasped when a tiny sprout pushed its way out into the open, its two leaves opening up wide as if greeting her with a wave. An orb of light lit up the plant and the esk, and she stared on in wonder. Finally, that orb disintegrated into dust, and the light was no more.
If Tintalle could blink, she would have done so then — rapidly, and in disbelief. The proof of what she was capable of was right in front of her, and she glowed with pride. She took her time scrutinising the intricate veins that lined the leaves, admired the beauty of it under the remaining light that had found its way through the dead branches. The sun was beginning to set, then, and the stars were coming out.
Yet, Tintalle did not stop. All through the night, she worked hard. It was not a difficult task to do after having already done it once in succession. She did not tire, and though she could choose to take a break for the sake of it, she did not. The dream she had was not one that would fulfill on its own, and she knew it. With practice after practice, she also soon learnt the extent of her ability. Whether or not it was guided by her spirited heart, she did not know or care at the moment, only that it worked. She took it upon herself to design the forest the way she liked it.
This went on for several months. A shorter time might only be required to fully accomplish what she had just done, but Tintalle was a perfectionist when it came to something she cared about. The song of bluebirds pushed her to finish what she had started, too, for they were a sign to her that she was doing something right.
By the end of her quest, the esk had changed, not only on the inside, in which she had grown in self-confidence, but in her outer form as well. Dwarf dogwood flowers had long vanished, replaced by dead branches and a few stalks of seeded eucalyptus. Her colouring had changed, too, and she was no longer completely warm in her feet and green in her tail, but more brown and cream. She revelled in how much she had transformed, and did not hate a single thing about it. Nonetheless, she would always be partial towards the red dwarf dogwood berry that had stayed on with her.
Despite how she had marked her quest complete, she could not forget the few trees she had failed to save. As she stood in front of one of the adamant ones in retrospection, a creature appeared.
No, not a creature — an esk.
His form was nearly similar to Tintalle's, graceful as a cat as he walked along the naked branch he had chosen to rest on. His head swivelled back and forth, looking almost grotesque, prompting Tintalle to take a cautious step back. Darkness emanated from his head, too, making the image of him all the more terrifying. But there were ferns growing from his back, and that green amongst the darkness helped ease her mind a little, if not a mighty more curious.
"H-Hello," Tintalle stuttered.
The creature stopped his pacing and used his long fingers to latch on. "Hello."
"I'm Tintalle. Who are you?"
His head turned sideways, until it faced fully to the ground. "I'm Ikkit. Who are you?"
"I'm... Tintalle."
"Who are you?"
He didn't mean her name, did he? "I do not know. Perhaps you could tell me?"
"Tell you?" He huffed. The interest that lit his dark eyes had quickly dulled with boredom. "Open your eyes wide enough. I will show you instead."
Darkness grew, and the shadows danced. Eyes peered at her, ones that did not belong to... anyone.
Tintalle gasped and ran away. His laughter filled her head, no matter how far she ran.
It was night again when she finally stopped in her tracks, and this time, she did find a corner by a tree to rest by. Shadows made her afraid after her ordeal that afternoon, but the trees... they somehow offered comfort to her, and the moon made her fear go away.
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