Make Haste, Shadow
In
a shaded clearing, deep in a thick and brightened forest, a little shadow boy
slept in the center of a small pool of light. The top of his head hardly
resembled hair anymore, and his feet, once the form of small, pitch-black bucklers,
were now smoothed and rounded at the ends where toes should have been. Instead
of fingers, his hands were smoothed and rounded at the ends, both of them
tightly clutching a crystal ball to the slumbering shadow’s chest. In the center
of this orb, a single flame, no larger than the flame of an average candle,
floated freely in the open space. With each drowsy shift, the flame fixed its
position so as to stay directly in the middle, as if held from the sides by invisible
ropes.
The air was warm, but with an
occasional breeze that ruffled the loose ends of the shadow and pushed some
fallen leaves around in circles. No other being or form of life appeared
present in the clearing, other than the grubs that undoubtedly populated the
dirt. The world was alive like a painting, but still in anticipation. Slowly,
and without moving his head or the rest of his body, the shadow’s mind came
back to the waking world. The first sense that brightened his thoughts was the
smell of the outdoors- the crisp scents of a seasoned forest, which made him vaguely
aware of his surroundings. A wave of feeling moved through his body as he became
overtly aware of his sleeping position.
The little shadow blinked and rubbed
his eye, blankly white and lacking any pupils. After his vision cleared of the
waking fuzz, he squinted towards the sunlight pouring in from above the trees. It
roughly seemed to him to be about midday, and that was the most, he realized,
that he knew for sure. He was a shadow, yes, and he knew how to describe his
surroundings and his current experiences. Yet he seemed to lack any bearing of
where exactly he awoke or how long he had actually slept, and no memory
whatsoever of how he had even arrived in this clearing or about the orb in his
hands. When he tried to recall, there was no memory at all of the past, except
for a very distant set of words in a tired and shaking voice.
“Make
haste, shadow, and keep safe the warmth. Worry not of the tragedy yet.”
The single memory stuck to the edge
of his mind but refused to move any further. Carefully, leaning against the orb,
which took both of his hands to steady, the shadow pushed himself onto his
feet. They wobbled, and he leaned against the orb for balance. Turning around,
he noticed the small bed formed out of the dead leaves and broken sticks of the
ground, depressed and still warm from his slumber. Had he done this himself?
No, perhaps not, but it was impossible to tell at the moment. Behind the
bedding, a tall tree shaded most of the clearing except for a few spots of
sunlight lacing through the leaves. Looking around, there didn’t seem to be any
path or clear direction to go, but the little shadow felt a strong urge to walk
in the direction opposite the large tree, as if something in his chest was
pulling him in that direction. After a few moments of surveying the situation and
brushing any loose forest debris off of himself, there seemed nothing else more
to do than to walk forward, where the brush didn’t seem too terribly thick.
Once deeper in the woods, there was
still very little visible life, but he could hear the world all around him
busying itself with noises. Bugs chirped and echoed against the trees, and
other strange and unfamiliar sounds seemed to look down upon him from the
treetops above. Every now and then, a small bird flapped its wings against some
leaves, or chirped loudly from a perch, and the little shadow took a few
moments to admire this other creature. He could identify these birds by name,
and he remembered the names of trees and plants and other wildlife, but when he
tried to dig further in his mind, there seemed to be nothing else there.
At one point, as he stared curiously
at a loud, red-winged bird, the ground suddenly vibrated, and a rush of wind
blew past him. Startled, he stumbled over his feet and fell on his hands and
knees. He looked up to see a blur running quickly away from him. It was a deer.
Yes, yes, a deer. It ran off in such a hurry, he could barely tell, and it
quickly disappeared in the distance.
The shadow was calming down, and he
noticed that his arms and legs were shaking from the jolt of energy. The crystal
orb sat a few feet away in the dirt, where it landed after he had fallen. He
sat down in the dirt and tried to gain his composure. Shadows, he remembered,
were not meant to be this afraid. He closed his eyes, listening again to the chirping
of the birds and the pleasantries of the forest. After a few moments, he opened
his eyes once more and propped himself back onto his feet. The urge in his
chest was still present, like a longing for home, but without the knowledge of
a home to travel towards. Picking up the orb and brushing it off helped quell the
shaking in his arms, and the shadow forced himself to continue forward into the
forest, nervous but hopeful about the journey ahead.
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