I had a new motive in life. I would wait for Lillie. I knew in my heart that she wanted the same as me—to be free, live happily, and do as we wished—but she was not ready to accept these terms of life, particularly the consequences of achieving such desires. She was not ready to leave her village, her family, and the only life she had ever known. Perchance, she had many other obstacles to overcome and other ties to cut before she could entertain the idea of starting a new life and accept a new concept of living. After all, our lives were different. I had barely any ties to cut. If I disappeared one day, never to return to my mountain residence, I did not think anyone would come after me. Cami had left, and I acknowledged the fact that I would most likely never see him again. He moved on with his life as a Sage and he may never return to this area. The others I lived next to, I rarely saw or interacted with. I did not know how Deruk or Kora were fairing, or the others—what were their names?—or if they were still residing on the same mountain summit. I highly doubted a Sage would go as far as to find me if I had not returned. Why would they?

  There was not much enticing me to continue my solitary life on the mountain except the instincts and teachings of my kind. Now, I had begun my journey of questioning such ideals, contemplating the expectations and roles provided for me, and deciding whether I wanted to participate anymore. Lillie meant the world to me, and she gave me a happiness I never knew could exist. I doubted such happiness would evolve if I continued to live by the order of the Teragane colony. I was willing, at this point, to take the chance of leaving it all behind.

  I desire nothing from the Teragane life…I want more.

  As for Lillie, she obviously was not ready to make such drastic choices, and I accepted her decisions. She lived with her parents, and had numerous friends, neighbors, and an entire village. She had food to cook and gather, a job to attend, and many other activities that I did not completely understand. Her life was hard—yes—but full of action and interactions that were seemingly important. Perhaps her idea of living in the trees truly was what she had stated: a silly idea.

  But a life of freedom together in the future? I believed it was not entirely impossible. She clearly wanted to be with me. She slept peacefully in my arms during our last visit. She had slept until the sun had nearly set. She was so relaxed, unthreatened by the world around us. She felt safe with me, and I knew that I wanted to protect her for the rest of my life. If waiting for her to make her final decision to leave her life behind was all I had to do, then so be it. Even so, all she needed to do was open up more to me about her life. Maybe she didn’t have to leave it behind. Maybe we could work out a new routine together. Perhaps we just needed to take small steps—small changes—for her to fully grasp the idea of change. Yes—maybe that is all she needed to accept.

  Maybe, then again…

  What if she didn’t want to leave it altogether? Perchance she only wanted our periodic visits to the meadow. Maybe she was happy with just being my friend—the lone Teragane destined for a life of isolation. I became anxious about these thoughts and the unknown future. I knew that I loved Lillie, and I truly believed Lillie loved me. But I began to fear an unforeseeable prospect. I imagined a future together and hoped for a free life with Lillie. However, I feared for a different future. A future where we slowly drift apart—Lillie with her life in the forest, me slowly slipping into the mundane rituals of Teragane’s idealism and isolation. The idea of starting the Mating-Ritual caused me to shudder. I did not want to visualize myself with anyone else or accept that I would be forced into a situation where I had to procreate with another Teragane just for the sake of tradition. The imminent future began to weigh heavy on my mind and heart.

  No. Stop thinking about the unknown. Simply focus on what you can do right now…

  I returned to the river every day and waited for the brown bears to arrive. During one breezy spring morning as I sat in a tree, I stared at my arms, noticing the the definition of the curves of the muscles under my thin sleeves. I had sculpted myself into a magnificent creature, yet now my motivation was beginning to change. I started out hoping to be Lillie’s strong hero, sweeping her off her feet and flying her into the distance, possibly leaving the area forever. Now, my thoughts were mainly of existential concepts on what it meant to live a life worth living. I knew I could only sit and wait for Lillie to accept me as I offered myself. I could only wait for Lillie to choose me—to choose me over everything else.

  I must wait, like I wait for the bears to return or the full moon to arrive—why do I always have to wait for others?

  The bears appeared, sluggishly wobbling their bodies out of the forest and into the river. They were thin, tired-looking, and ever-so-hungry. They slowly approached the river, dragging their heavy paws and snarling at each other. The large family of bears were in poor spirits, obviously hungry from their long winter fast. The fish were few, yet they gobbled up as much as they could. I watched quietly from my tree perch on the other side of the riverbank.

  They look so weak. I could probably take a couple down before the others came after me. Yeah, I could take at least two down before being torn into pieces.

  Watching the bears stumble around, snarl at each other, and sluggishly catch fish reminded me how even the mightiest of creatures had their weaknesses. Yet they were still feared and strong as a family unit. I wondered if that was how Lillie felt about her own family. She often told me negative stories about her parents, yet she seemed loyal and devoted to them. Perhaps they stuck together because they were strongest when together, even if they were low on strength and exhausted from the harshness of life.

  One day, I hope Lillie can find the courage to explain to me her situation. One day I hope she can trust me enough to support and understand her. Maybe I just need to ask her more questions. Perhaps I need to prove to her that I am interested in understanding her life. Perhaps she needs to understand my own commitment to her. Perhaps I should have told her my plan to fly her wherever she wanted…maybe that will change her mind.

  Further into spring, the snow had completely melted away. All the purple and white spring flowers were blooming, the bees were buzzing, and small critters were enjoying the pleasures of warmer weather after a cold winter. The air was fresh and humid, cleansed by the great slumber of winter, allowing me to soar around the valley with great exhilaration. I anticipated the next full moon and decided to give less attention to an unattainable future with Lillie and focus instead on a more tangible present moment. I did not want to see Lillie cry; instead, I wanted to make her laugh, see her smile, and watch her cheeks and ears redden. During our previous meeting, she had fallen asleep after our emotional discussion. I wanted to avoid invoking further intense discourse and focus only on making Lillie happy. Although I did not mind her resting when needed, I hoped to be able to enjoy our time together, pushing aside emotional stress. I wanted to focus my time on making her happy—perhaps it was time to talk to her about me being strong enough to fly with her.

  I caught some fish to share, packed firewood from the storage cache in my home, and carried it all wrapped in an animal pelt. I was stronger than ever before; perhaps I could just fly Lillie around for fun. I stopped fantasizing about an elusive future and instead focused on what was possible. I had an inevitable visit from the Sage in the coming spring I had yet to fully anticipate how to manage. At that present moment, I could just enjoy my current state of life in the meadow near Lillie’s side. I would deal with the future when I was forced to face it.

  When I arrived at the meadow, I cleaned up the fireplace and placed the logs accordingly. Again, I wanted to wait before starting the actual flames but preparing it for when Lillie arrived was enough motivation to have it perfectly set. I looked around, watching the bees drift from the flowers and the grass dancing in the cool breeze. I picked a few flowers according to their scents and physical beauty and placed them in a bunch, remembering to ask Lillie about the floral scents cast from her hair. I lifted each blossom to my nose, sniffing and determining if it were the same scent as the ones I detected from Lillie.

  As I gathered a bouquet of flowers, I thought about giving it to Lillie. She could make something of them—I was sure of it. I remembered when she once showed me how to make a flower crown, or another time she weaved a small basket of dried grass. My biggest hope was to make Lillie smile that day. Her happiness was my greatest joy. Her warmth was my greatest comfort. Thoughts of her sleeping in my arms brought fuzzy feelings to my stomach. During the moment, I felt distraught for causing her stress to the point she slept most of the afternoon. But, as I thought more about the scene of her sleeping peacefully next to me, I enjoyed the sensations of being near her in such an intimate state. While she snoozed, I watched her rise and fall—I even let the ends of her hair tickle the edges of my fingers. I didn’t mind if she wanted to sleep next to me again—I never slept near another person before, not even my own parents.

  I glided around the meadow, picking flowers I thought Lillie would like, and smelled each one in case I could detect a familiar scent. I moved boulders, adjusting them near the fireplace for us to rest against. I stood on my hands, trying to do a cartwheel like Lillie did so often as a child, but I faltered in my attempts.

  I’ll ask Lillie to teach me to do a cartwheel. That could cheer her up!

  I often glanced at the opening in the forest where Lillie always emerged. I waited patiently for her to show up. I lay on the ground, staring at the sky, counting clouds and flying ravens. I paced around the fireplace on the grass, watching grasshoppers flee on sight. I stared at the great forest, wondering how deep the roots of the giant cedar trees grew. I wondered greatly about my own future, about Cami, and where he was in his training and where he was sent off to. I recalled my promise to never forget him and decided to tell Lillie about him, especially how much he enjoyed her marmalade. For a moment, I thought about his request for me to comb my hair. I began brushing my hands through my hair, then got bored with the pointless grooming and I attempted to do a cartwheel again, but instead just balanced myself by doing a handstand. I did everything to keep my mind busy as I waited.

  But Lillie never came.

  The light of the full moon began to illuminate the area as the sun waned behind the mountains. I looked at the forest entrance, where I watched Lillie emerge hundreds of times. This time, there was no Lillie. For the first time in all the years of diligently meeting, she did not come as usually expected. My heart began to race as my mind flooded with anxious thoughts.

  Where could she be? Did she decide not to meet with me? Does she no longer want to see me? Perhaps she wants nothing to do with me anymore? Maybe she is angry? Or—

  My heart felt as if it had dropped to my stomach, and fear overwhelmed my entire body.

  What if something bad happened to her? What if she is in trouble?

  I flew to the entrance of the forest, the spot where Lillie on numerous occasions emerged from. I stopped at the forest edge and stared into the darkness. The sun had nearly set, and the full moon was shining brightly from its reflection. Even so, the brightness of the moon was nothing compared to the darkness of the forest. It created a sense of mystery and fear. The sinking in my stomach and the aching of my heart nearly paralyzed me.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  She’s somewhere deep within this forest, possibly hurt—possibly in danger.

  The image of Lillie screaming, crying, and bleeding came to mind. I saw the images of her scarred hands, the fading of her skin color, and her white hair wrapping around a terrified expression and her green eyes disappearing behind a great unknown. Whatever afflicted her with these things could have been the reason for her absence. Lillie never missed our visits to the meadow—never.

  When we were children, she came every day. Then, as we grew older, it was every other day, then once a fortnight, and finally only on the days of the full moon. Regardless of the lessening of visitations, Lillie always came when she said she would. She had never missed our time together.

  Something is holding her back…

  At that moment, the courage and boldness of my heroic idealism came rushing throughout my body and mind. I knew at once I needed to find Lillie. The very concept of entering an unknown world of darkness did not affect my courage. I did not care about anything else, only about Lillie’s safety. I spent the winter season without her and was facing the uncomfortable situation of doubts about having a future together. At that moment, I pushed aside the apprehension, focusing only on the present moment of Lillie’s absence. I would do everything in my power to find her, save her from whatever atrocities were holding her back, and protect her. It was not like Lillie to not inform me of her tardiness. The concept of her willingly missing our time in the meadow was unfathomable. No—something was not right. And I needed to find her. I needed to find Lillie—come what may.

  I puffed up my chest, breathing in as much courage as possible. I flew into the forest, not knowing if I was the most foolish Teragane in the province or the most absolute love-struck man willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his loved one. Regardless, I did not care, nor did I have the space to evaluate where my head was in such a moment. I flew into the forest with only one thing on my mind.

  I need to find Lillie.

  I entered the cedar forest determined to follow the path to Lillie’s village. At least, I assumed it would lead directly there. I had not known this as a fact and only held onto my assumption to relieve the anxiety of the alternative, less desirable outcomes. I flew above ground, but as I ventured deeper, the trees became dense, the extensive branches blocking a clear flying-path, and the ground below was difficult to see. I landed on the forest floor, examining the area around me. My desire to find Lillie gave me courage, but the fear of the darkness and the unknown forest area began to creep into my mind.

  Just focus on following the trail. It’s just a forest. Nothing to fear…

  I knew where Lillie entered and exited the forest at the meadow; therefore, I could easily assume that following the path would lead me to Lillie’s village. I focused merely on my logical thoughts rather than the fearful ideas of wandering alone in the forest without a guide. I walked deeper into the cedar forest, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness of night. With the help of the full moon shining above and its light beam occasionally casting a glow through the branches, I could see the trail before me. At times, through the corner of my eye, I thought I saw movement. I felt the hairs on my arm stand up, my face felt cold, and my heart beat like the hum of a honey bee’s wing—vigorous and fast. I looked forward, then down, watching where my feet landed.

  The path was trodden and well established. It curved and maneuvered through the trees, noticeably different in width, according to how travelers had used it as a footpath. I could hear branches creaking as they swayed in the wind, and the hoot of an owl echoed periodically. The ferns and other foliage growing underneath the trees rustled in the wind, possibly from little critters scampering around through the night. The density of the canopy prohibited a lot of growth on the forest floor. Only plants that could live literally in the shadows of giants were scattered around. I imagined that the forest held beautiful scenery under different circumstances. I envisioned Lillie pointing out to me the pleasantries of certain plants and different kinds of moss. Her keen interest in plants, her pleasant smile, and her kind voice comforted me in my imagination.

  The rustling noise of something dashing behind me forced my thoughts to stop wondering about plants and their differences. I felt worried about my own safety as I turned around, scanning the area for lurking predators. As I continued down the path, scouring the area, my mind raced about what had kept Lillie from coming to the meadow. I did my best to avoid thoughts about the worst scenarios, one consisting of her death and the other her utter apathy towards me. When such thoughts arose in my mind, I physically shook my head and imagined Lillie’s smile, her silly remarks, and her obvious affection for me. When tragic ideas came to my head, I struggled to create a better scenario. I tried imagining her being caught up with work, but I did not know what type of work she would be caught up with. I thought about her needing to help her family. However, the idea of her parents punishing her due to unforeseen circumstances brought further apprehension in my chest.

  Although the fearful scenarios caused my heart to flutter with anxiety, it kept my mind busy from being petrified of walking through the looming forest. Any other reason to enter the forest at night would have been fleeting. I would have turned around and flown out as fast as possible. I could not even comprehend my sudden actions; only the need to find Lillie and confirm that she was safe. Trudging through the forest, my mind lost in hope and fearful outcomes, I made my way deeper through the woods under the moonlit sky.

  What was that?

  A sudden howl echoed deep within the trees. I stopped in my tracks, looking around for danger. I prepared myself to fly to safety up in the trees, if necessary, but nothing happened. No predator emerged from the darkness to attack me. So, I kept going, anticipating any danger lurking ahead. I knew wolves lived in forests in the province; their collective packs easily made them the most successful hunters and the most territorial. I had no desire to have my first encounter with wolves during the night in the middle of a strange location. I stopped many times to observe my surroundings after hearing noises. The simple hoot of an owl sent an alarm through my nerves. The creaking branches echoing above me caused me to stop and make sure nothing but the wind was causing them to move. Between the fear of the eerie forest and the distressing thoughts of Lillie’s absence, I trudged through the forest, dread twisting my stomach in knots and fear of danger keeping me alert. I walked until I came upon the first light of a village.

  This must be it! I made it!

  Often, while flying over the cedar trees or sitting in the meadow with Lillie, I tried peering through the dense forest to see houses or a village, but never once could I detect anything beyond the blanket cover of the woodland. My eyesight was sharp and capable of detecting small details even from high above the ground like any avian. However, my vision was inferior to the impenetrable cover of timberland.

  As I approached a new change of scenery, I found a small arch ahead made of the red wood of a cedar and twisting branches. I approached its ominous shadow, unaware of what to expect. The wood was twisted into an archway, and over-growing vines and ferns covered the curvature, partially blocking the entrance to the residential area beyond. I pushed the overgrowth aside and walked through the archway. The feathery leaves of the ferns lightly brushed against my wings as I followed the low light cast from further away. The giant cedar trees were still prevalent, but now I could see building structures at the base of the trees, stacking high into the overhead thicket. The further I entered the village, the buildings became denser, almost appearing as if the forest had disappeared altogether.

  The path was no longer trodden dirt but instead made of stone. I stood near some buildings that looked unused and rotting away, and I gazed upward. The network of structures was built vertically on either side of the path, some connected overhead by wooden bridges. The labyrinth of overhanging bridges connected the vertical buildings, intertwining with the branch system of the cedar trees. Both tree, branch, bridge, and wooden structure interlocked in a web of design, making it difficult to recognize what was naturally grown and what was manufactured by artistic hands. I could not see the sky within the immense canopy; not a single beam of moonlight could break through the system above.

  I looked onward. The path disappeared around a corner; wooden buildings continued to line the path. It appeared that the buildings were people’s homes, or perhaps for other uses I had yet to understand. There were windows, darkened due to the middle of the night, and small wooden doors with little stone stairs as an entrance. Some stairs also spiraled upward to the next level.

  I had never seen such intricate buildings, let alone compactly built one on the other. All appeared to be uniquely designed and shaped, some unused and rotting, others well maintained. Small lanterns lined the stone path, allowing a flickering dim light to guide me through the maze of wood and stone. The village was quiet, although I noticed an indistinguishable hum filling the air. I turned the corner and realized the path split in three ways. I felt overwhelmed. I had no idea such an area could exist, let alone within the depths of a giant forest. I had never expected such a scene whenever I had imagined Lillie’s life in the forest, although it was rare for me to do so.

  I should get a better view of the village.

  The compact area of wooden buildings created a sense of nervousness within my body. The view from the ground significantly gave me a disadvantage in scanning the area. As an avian, I preferred to examine the surrounding area before embarking on a direction. I decided to also do the same within the new area. I knew I wanted to fly up, but I needed to angle myself accordingly to avoid my wingspan clashing with the buildings. I could easily make a powerful high jump, but the tall buildings made it impossible for me to reach a ledge without the use of my wings. I noticed a bridge and decided to aim for it. I angled myself so my wings were parallel to the path, extended my wings partially, and I jumped, lifting myself high into the overhead area. I flew up to the hanging bridge and landed, half expecting a sturdy footing, but the wooden bridge swayed and creaked. The sound alone caused fear of it breaking, and I jumped again to another bridge. It also jarred upon my sudden impact, and I aimed next for a rooftop ledge. I had ascended above the buildings by now and could make out the top of a taller building. Upon landing, the roof did not move; it only creaked, allowing me to adjust my footing and lower my wings.

  These homes are built on each other, surely, they can hold my weight. I cannot be that heavy!

  Feeling secure enough in my position as I angled my footing and the wooden roof stopped creaking, I took the opportunity to assess the surroundings. My heart sank once again as alarm ran through my nerves. With one look around the area, even though it was dark, the lights of the village exhibited an immense city of buildings. My sharp eyes struggled to comprehend the area with only the glow of the lanterns and piles of buildings stacked randomly, all covered by the immense canopy of the giant cedars overhead and throughout. Paths wove without patterns, and bridges connected the overhead structures like the web of a spider, which were high enough to access the taller buildings but low enough to cross under the branches of the trees. My eyes could only see ever so far due to the crowded area, but the glow of the lights unveiled the city expanding further, deeper into the forest. My eyes followed the curvature of the weaving area, but the compact area caused my eyes to strain.

  My nose picked up a vast number of new smells. Smoke, food, dirt, and many other scents I could not resolve. Then, my ears heard faint sounds further ahead. A low hum, a rustling rhythm. There were sounds I had never experienced before. The air was dense with a polluted draught.

  I pushed my hair out of my face and felt sweat piling on my forehead. The stifling air was different than the open area I was accustomed to, causing my body unwanted perspiration. I had never imagined such a complex place could exist. My eyes hurt trying to find details and patterns in the city beyond. My nose picked up distasteful smells I wish I had never experienced. My ears rang with irritating, rumbling noises, and my skin itched from the exasperating change of humidity.

  Initially, I thought the giant forest was intimidating, scary, and full of unpleasantries. As I gazed upon the revelation of a hidden labyrinth, my mind raced with all the new information—new revelations of a world unforeseen. Row after row of buildings, streets, and stone steeples with puffs of black smoke, the whole area was distasteful to all my senses.

  Never once had I imagined Lillie’s world to be very expansive. Yes, I knew it was complex, but never once had I thought of her village as massive in size. She spoke of her neighborhood, her friends, and her family as if they all lived in a small area. Or was that only my assumption? Did I only imagine it as simple in comparison to my own environment? I was absolutely stunned, paralyzed by the realization that this place was not a village. No—it was a complex world I had no comprehension to understand.

  How will I ever find Lillie?