[ Respond | Andarin: The Mountains ]
Posted by nyota on March 15, 2009, 3:42 pm, in reply to "a necklace of stars,"
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She has not ventured far from the embrace of her oak tree. Afraid, is she? Perhaps. Perhaps she is afraid of the things that wait for her beyond the ever-protective branches. The more likely explanation, however, is that she has been so long a part of its bark and leaves that she cannot fathom being away from it. Strange, isn’t it – now that she can remember where she was all that time, she rather enjoyed being in there.
Still, from her hideout, she can watch them. The Wolves. Andarin. She watches as the familiar landscape of her home shifts and re-forms before her very eyes and she knows – oh, how she knows! – that she could never stop loving it. No matter how many times she left the place, was taken from it, or dissolved into it, she would keep coming back. The mountains were her lifeblood, the constant that had sustained her through many years.
The Polestar breathed in the fresh, sharp air and loved it.
Kivuli wraps anxiously around her ankles, a curious patch of fur missing from his shoulder, and he speaks to her for the first time since earth became flesh three days ago. {Let’s go up to the mountains. We have been too long under this tree.} Nyota agreed, and the pair of friends set off towards the snow-capped peaks with wanderlust written on their face. Nyota’s movements were jilted a bit, as her legs were stiff from the year of tree-dom, but Kivuli moved as quickly and effortlessly as always. “Wait!” Nyota whined after him, and Kivuli shot her a playful glance over his shoulder, his obsidian-black eyes glittering. {Come, Polestar! You lag behind like a snail. Since when did you have a difficult time keeping up with me?} Nyota shrieked in mock anger, gathering up her hooves beneath her. She had never been able to move as quickly as him (except in those moments of panic) but now, she flew past him and laughed as they raced their way up the mountains. Their feet moved like clockwork over the familiar paths.
When they reached the top, they found that they were not alone. Nyota’s breath caught in her throat and a strangled kind of cry issued from him, billowing out in disruptive waves against the peaceful silence. Kivuli darted forward, remembering the mare that stood with her back to them, and wound around her legs. The birds, of course, were thick in the air around them and Nyota grinned. This was no ghost.
“Fei!” she demanded, sweeping forward to press the length of her body against her old friend’s. “You’re back. I knew it – I knew you would be back.”
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