[twwm] two paths : life calling - menri

The woods spit Menri out onto a clearer trail, bright sunshine streaming through newly-budded branches and dappling the ground in spots where the boughs grew thickly together. The hum had broken into a buzz, not unpleasant, just faintly ringing itself through the forest, a low drone of familiarity, of seasonal change. However, there was another sound overlapping it. The quiet burble of a stream called to him, and cautiously, he made his way towards it. The undergrowth was thicker here than it had been before; the ground more alive and awakened.

Tugging through thick tangles of vines and thickets of wild roses not yet bloomed, Menri found the creek, clear water running quickly over smoothed pebbles. It was unlike the water of his home, browned and chock full of silt created by the arid desert sands. This water was quick and see through, full of life and tumbling with a merry song.

Menri recalled dabbling his paws in the water from his home, and began traveling down the bank to this new creek. It always arced without letting the light shine through, trail of displaced dirt following the water when he had splashed at it.

He experimentally dipped a single paw in the stream, and crystal-clear droplets of icy water clung to his fur. Shaking them away, he sat on the bank, and observed the world for a while. The trickling tinkle of the bright water drew Menri in, and he lost himself in the reflections. Ice still gathered near the shores of the small creek, fragile flotillas of crackling clear ships, and fish swum under and around them, tiny fins fighting the strong currents.

The air was permeated with the smell of warm moss, a grassy, earthy scent that filled the breeze and buffeted the trees. It smelled of baking dirt and warming earth, like the caves and crannies of Menri’s desert home. The fired clay scent of broken pottery shards sometimes found out in the field, smoothed down by the sands sweeping over them, endlessly caressed by the winds.

Menri watched as the life in the stream went on its way, the minnows swimming around, chasing invisible things only they could see, large, open-mouthed fish with sharp spines pooling in deeper pockets of creek, provided shelter by tree roots digging deep to drink greedily the water. He felt joy when the first turtle unearthed itself from the mud and muck it had rested in, nostrils breaking the surface to inhale a gulp of air now that the ice had passed.

This small patch, tiny ecosystem that it was, played into everything else in the forest. The turtle dragged itself, lumbering away from the water, to go catch something to eat. The fish swam upstream to spawn, and the shoots sprung from the soil as Menri turned his body to look at the undergrowth he had struggled through earlier to reach this beautiful, tranquil place. The path – or lack thereof – back to where he had come from was gone. There was simply a wall of trees, thick branches and sharp thorns lying underneath. Instead, a new path followed along the riverbank, tracing and trailing further away, deeper into the still semi-frozen forest.

He made to get up, lifting himself from his sitting position and turning to this new opportunity. But what could be beyond here? Would it be friend, foe, a new home? Would he ever get back to his home? Menri decided to be brave, in that moment. Whatever lay at the end of this trail, he would follow it, discover it, maybe even befriend it. Then he was off, on his plodding and ambling walk through the woods on the shore of a slow stream. Tulip buds pushed through the damp and dark soil, little peeks of yellow and white hinting through. It was quite beautiful, after all, the rebirth of spring after being trapped under winter’s iced and unforgiving grasp.

Menri traveled further and further down the trail, but still did not feel quite at home. The hum under his paws and in his chest still resonated, but it was faded, subdued, like looking at yourself in an unclean glass, the surface fogged over with grime and time.

He felt fear tighten his chest as the path kept trailing away, wondering if it ever ended, and if it was safe where it did end. He missed his home, the security of the warren, the warm red rock and soft feathers of his friends. This forest might’ve hummed with life, but it was asleep still, and things roam the woods that sleep.

He shuddered at the thought, and stuttered in his steps, the end of the trail now near and beckoning. I don’t belong here, he knew, as deeply as he knew he was not ever truly alone in this strange place. Ominous winds grew behind him, buffeting him forward and forcing Menri to confront his fears of the unknown.

He stepped further onto the darkened path, and was swallowed again by the trees.