There is another that sits at the forest’s fringe; not just the wind that whispers through the canopy, nor the trees themselves, an ever shifting and living labyrinth. The scout sits, knees bent up and chin perched upon them, where the boughs begin to narrow and the leaves need not fight so hard for the light smiling down. Perhaps if he were to glance up, to navigate the thin blinding shafts; maybe if he saw beyond then the fluttering leaves and old timber, then the stranger might spot her. But she is confident he won’t. They don’t. Her eyes are as bright and clear as the midday sky and she is watching (they come one by one, as dependably as the days turn into night), almost jadedly, twirling the stem of a yellow leaf between two fingers. And then he moves. The scout’s eyes narrow upon the raven-black gloss of hair as he passes with deer-like finesse below; but she has seen this before and knows the trees well. Branches ahead will tangle together before he even arrives to meet them, or is it the path whose direction will change; either, creating a new route that will see him returned to this point and removed- or… Wings, long and glassy, unfold their length behind her. This is why she is here. He is the reason she has waited through countless hours. They are the reason The Greatwood is ailing. As silently as the dragonfly swoops the scout descends between old limbs and she angles her flight well to alight a small distance before him. “Why, hello!” she grins broadly, boldly, peering upwards, for he stands like a towering giant in contrast. |
Seiji
