Osier
06/12 2020
The village of Shalin laid at the sink of the valley between the Cohen mountain range and the steep cliffs of Amos, where the acacias grew over the edge in a downward fashion. During heavy winds those with weakest spirit, as they said, would fall down the 400 foot vertical drop to the stone slabs below. The village had always been there, in folklore, since the mountain surrounding it were created. As the acacias now fell from the cliffs, the village once fell, simultaneously as the mountains rose, they fell down - and there they would stay.
Every morning the citizens would gather at the area in front of the altar in the center of town, and observed how close the sun would fall to the sacred circle from the hole on the altar as it emerged from behind the cliffs. This morning it was evident that the time was soon, and the anticipation could be felt in the air. The affectionate embraces between parents and their children and an old man leaning on his cane in quiet anticipation in comparison to his usual bickering. As the sun rose from behind the cliffs, it became evident that the bloom was eminent, the ecstasy in excreted pheromones from the holy Osier of joy was finally, after a long wait, upon the citizens of Shalin.
Levana stood in the middle of the crowd and let out a smile of relief as she managed to pick out a kernel that had been stuck there for two days. Her little brother tugged at her arm looking for affection, obviously as a result from the almost unrealistic feeling of expectation spreading like a disease through the crowd. Levana forced a smile and lifted him onto her shoulders. They stood and watched as the deacon preached his sermon, and all of them absorbed it to their core, but Levana only wondered about this mythology that everyone else seemingly inherited, that she hadn't had the capacity to hallucinate. Perhaps putting it in those terms disqualified her.
She took his brother strolling by the river, where they balanced on deadwood that had fallen to form natural crossings. The day was too hot, but thankfully the leaves in the crown of the tall trees above blocked out the sunlight - leaving a soft light to fill up the world under it's green roof - accompanied with the humming of hummingbirds and song of the fairies. Levana however, was stuck in her own imagination, almost knocking her brother off the deadwood. As the sun began to set they took the trek back home, where she tucked him in after they ate a quick meal of bread and nuts. Returning to her bed that occupied a corner in the living room she encountered her father who once more smelled of a man in either the highest or lowest of spirits. Thankfully given the circumstances of the Osier it turned out to be the former, so she managed to avoid the worst of the common consequences.
In the immaterial realm of her mind she drifted into the courtroom. There was the father, of course, and her mother - which her face had faded from her memory in recent years. Perhaps she should invent a new one, although that might count as blasphemy. She hadn't decided on her internal book of laws yet. Her father who had thirty years to her twenty-two hadn't done it, so the jury was still out on that ethical dilemma. Jumping back to the courtroom they stood on each side of the bench. Levana went over and stood before the judge, an old man with a more hunched back than was good for him, who spoke in tongues. Obviously not important. But... maybe. She looked back and locked eyes with her mother's face devoid of details, white slate. The recognition of bygones was something so rare, nostalgia? The smile recognized in the face of a non-face, the emotion in something non-existent. The room faded, it was clear what she needed to do.
She had packed light. An extra long, linen dress - out of respect, you never know if the holy plant of Osier had a strong opinion on clean clothes; the remainder of the loaf of bread and nuts; two water skins and the map; and of course the pendant in the shape of a heart that she never left home without. The large graveled road ebbed out into the small pathways that trickled through the thick forest beyond the village. She pulled out the map just to make sure. Follow the sun to where the Forcona converges with Windmar Creek, where she would follow the brink of the Windmar river up the side of Amos. Camp there for the first night. Then have the sun running from your left to your right as you move up. Camp as the sun sets. Continue up, and by her estimates, she should be there on the evening of the third day. She put the map back, brushed a drop of sweat from her brow and continued her trek through the dense foliage.
She arrived at the confluence quicker than she thought, taking the opportunity to sit on the bank with her feet in the water, eating some of the bread and nuts that she brought. It was a sultry day that made her want to throw off her long linen dress and lie in the shallow water and drift away with the current. But her mother had raised her to be more proper than that. A powerful recognition flooded over her: was it even possible to hold two conflicting ideas in your mind at the same time?
As the soft earth of the river bank gradually transformed into sharp rocks in variable sizes the challenge she had embarked on began to show its true colors. She needed to pause every 15 minutes so that she wouldn't collapse due to exhaustion. Levana once more checked the map and realized that if she kept up this pace she wouldn't have enough food for the trip back. The margins were slim to begin with, and now grew ever smaller for every minute spent lying on her back trying to catch her breath. The clouds were swift in the sky.
When she opened the door she couldn't help but smile, and by the look of of his smile he was also on the road toward betraying his priesthoods reportedly virtuous intentions. He followed her to the living room where she guided him toward a pillow on the floor as she excused herself to make tea. It was improper otherwise, during a tutoring in the holy arts. He laid off his linen vest and folded it neatly besides the low table, taking out the poetry and scripture from his satchel which he then placed ahead of him. An off-center flower decoration annoyed him, so he made sure that it was situated a little more to the down and left. Now the table was in harmony, poetry and scripture laid out in perfect order in relation to the floral centerpiece. It pleased him.
The teapot was placed gently, yet in improper placement, to the right of the centerpiece. He had trouble pointing out these kinds of flaws - even though he should - because in his eyes they weren't flaws at all. Just as her crooked teeth that she blocked with her hand when she laughed, or the way that she blushed when doing something she recognized as out-of-protocol. She sat down on a pillow opposite and they sat silent, basking in the smell of the green mist of afternoon that seeped from the gap in the doors leading out to the backyard. But the conversation kept on nonetheless, telepathically, intuitively. Her eyes locked onto his told more than the stack of papers in front of both of them - wasn't that enough?
Perhaps it was. Nevertheless he snapped out of it and poured tea into both of their cups. She blushed and brushed back a lock of her hair that had escaped her braid.
He cleared his throat, "Levana, shall we begin?" he said, putting the teapot the perfect distance to the right of the centerpiece. It was a non-question as he gave out a poem from the top of the pile.
She bowed and took a sip of tea. They sat for a while, her reading a sentence, him correcting any mistakes along the way, until the poem was finished. It left them both in a daze, like a thick layer of emotion surrounded them. They talked in silence once more, which he again interrupted by offering a refill of tea, but the pot was empty. Not that she believed that to be his intention.
They had never discussed it, but it was mutually and intuitively understood. A devout priest to Osier had a purpose to life and it was not on this earth, but to the good of the community; in this case, the frivolous liaison between two electrical forces was to be denied. Much to the dismay to them both, although she didn't think he knew how much it mattered to her. Not that she would ever tell him. Still, that didn't mean that he couldn't come and give special attention to his worst student, who was always seemingly slower with understanding the letters and grammar.
The sun set to the backdrop of a howling wind from the gap in the door, and the ominous crackling of thunder in the distance. It had been humid before but it had all dried up, only a matter of time until rain. Yet, there was no sense of time. Gently he put his papers in order and put them back in his satchel. He looked at her.
"Levana..."
"Yes?"
"Pardon me if this is rash, but I do get the feeling that you know more than you show." She ignored the pause that he left for her to respond, he continued, "But I must say that it's not unwelcome. I do feel that the texts speak to me more when I am here, the tea taste more..." He paused as if to gauge the response, seeing a smile he continued, "sweet. I suppose that it might have to do something to do with the time we usually take? Today I haven't even given it a thought, well, except for now - in bringing it up." He chuckled as the thunder grew palpably closer.
"Me neither. And likewise."
"Likewise?"
"On everything."
He smiled at her and looked into her eyes, waited until another rumble brought him out of it. Suddenly he reached into his satchel and brought out a silver pendant in the shape of a heart.
"Levana, I would like for you to have this." He stood up and sat besides Levana, opening the clasp and reached out towards her, "May I?" She nodded and he reached around her neck and clasped it shut. Levana looked down as it dangled on her breast, in the precise moment as it reflected a lightning that struck somewhere close. The thunder was deafening and briefly brought both of them out of it, instinctively staring out towards the garden - which was foolish, seeing as there only was an inch wide gap in the top of door, hardly enough to see what's going on.
"It was my mothers, and I do think that it would fit you better."
"Benjy, I can't accept this."
"You don't need to accept it, because it is yours."
They looked at each other, and as she started moving her head closer to him her father emerged from behind the corner. His expression moved from shock to sly grin quickly, and as promptly as he had arrived he was gone. Levana and Benjy sat besides each other for but a moment, before he stood up and grabbed his satchel, rushing out the door.
Far from the flocks of birds high above Levana woke up in a daze, tasting the taste of tea in her mouth that she knew wasn't there. Instinctively she reached out for her necklace and upon realizing she was caressing it between her fingers let it go. The time had gone, long ago. A faint, cold breeze caught her and the landscape around her scattered with jagged rocks felt suddenly more hostile than before. By dumb luck in the dead of night she had managed to find a boulder that had seemingly been chopped in half, giving her a perfect 10 by 10 feet platform to sleep on, with the addition of wind protection from the rocks surrounding it. In the gentle rays of the morning sun it felt safe compared to the harsh world outside of the flat platform. The cuts on her feet throbbed, but thankfully they looked uninfected; though the body ache from exhaustion made it unbearable to even move an inch. In her head she pitched thoughts of postponing, although that was perfectly ridiculous. In any case she would have to go down and from what she had heard that was even worse than going up. She forced herself to sit up, and as she did she was instantly hit by a fierce gust of wind.
She looked back from where she had come. The forest down below - in all its green wonder - seemed so far away. From where she sat the way upwards seemed endless, because she knew that the the top she saw from here would only be the beginning of an even bigger hill. With great exertion of will she pushed her body to stand up, beginning to gather up her blankets in her rucksack. When she finished she sat down, out of breath already, - if that wasn't an indication of the day to come she had trouble to see what would - and massaged her sore feet. After a few minutes of divine pleasure she braced herself and stood up. She walked to the nearby stream where she knelt down and filled her waterskins. She splashed water on her face and felt a weak feeling of hope. It would need to do.
After the first crest the way up quickly transformed into a treacherous, narrow route of sporadic rocks. Ten feet wide, with nearly vertical cliffs on either side; to her right was her village, and on the left the steppes of Asher stretched out as far as you could see. It was funny how much the climate changed between the two sides of the mountain, Asher was a cold, desolate steppe occupied by tribes of pastoral tribes; while on the side of the cliffs of Amos a nearly tropical climate emerged as if the leaves hovering above protected them from the cold. Not that any scientific research had been done on the matter, as that of course would be considered blasphemy. Levana needed to be extra careful not only because of that, but the sharpness of the rocks here were above and beyond what they had been previously. These reminded her of the ancient stone axes that were on display in the museum of history. They were big too, and uncertain at the same time. Before stopping for food she was on the verge of falling down the precipice as the rock she stood on began wobbling, but she threw herself on the ground, followed by immense pain. She listened as the rock she stood on bounced for a while and then silence, followed a few seconds later by an indistinct thud. Levana had shuddered at the thought of dying like that.
Later, toward evening, she looked back and saw that the sky began filling up with dark clouds moving swiftly toward her. She cursed to herself and began looking for somewhere flat to ride it out, which she failed to do. Weary to the point of collapsing the drops started falling, quicker and quicker, as the only places to sit down were about fifteen inches in diameter and wobbled alarmingly, only reminding her of what had happened previously in the day. As the winds picked up their pace she eventually settled down on the uncertain fate of the wobbly stones. She pulled a blanket over her head, her rucksack in her lap, as she passed out sitting cross-legged in pelting rain.
A few years later, surrounded by her favorite trees in her favorite glade, green sky above little less dense than elsewhere. She looked towards the opening and saw him; ragged as he was. He must have felt the same shock of recognition, as his expression when their eyes met indicated. Without thought they grew closer, and they embraced lovingly. He smelled of sweat and old mud, but she couldn't by the life of her feel disgusted. It just was.
"Levana!" He exclaimed as they let go, "I never thought that I would find you here."
"Really? It's my favorite to place to be, if I have the time for the trek that is." She smiled, "but I could say the same back."
"I actually live close to here now, I built a shack by the river a few minutes from here." He brushed back his long greasy hair as he investigated her closely, "You've changed."
"Both of us have changed."
"I guess that's true."
The silence again spoke the words that they could not. The daydream became the reality, and for a little while, they were together back home. Nothing else needed to be spoken. But then he did.
"Why don't you join me for a cup of tea in my gentle abode?"
She hesitated slightly out of cultural habituation, but quickly her body reacted, mouth moving alone, "I would love to."
"Splendid. Of course, it's not real tea, a collection of herbs I found in the neighborhood. It's quite good actually."
She just smiled back as they moved into the thicket.
***
A few minutes through dense foliage and there they were. On opposite sides of a table poorly crafted out of deadwood, drinking tea from a teapot with a broken handle, handling mismatched chipped bowls.
"I found them by the riverbed, they're a bit beat up, but they work just the same."
She nodded, and a thought emerged from the void of her mind which she without thinking blurted out, "I've often wondered, as I sometimes hear it around the village - what makes you such a haunting memory."
He paused and sighed. "I thought we spoke of this. You would under no circumstance feel any guilt for my decision. It is my decision, not yours."
"It doesn't feel like it."
He poured the tea without hesitation, yet without haste, "I guess it never does, does it?" he said, "The invitation still stands, of course. Being disowned isn't as bad as you might think, I feel freer than I have in... well forever, I guess."
"You know why I can't."
"I know, I just wanted you to know it. A tunnel within the night, I guess."
The afternoon started to give way to darkness and she excused herself, which he understood fully. They embraced one last time, and it transcended her sense of time, because it had to.
On her way home the water from the river had risen over the sands by the riverbank, which she trekked through. The wind created ripples over the shallow water, and she added a few drops as she walked. The warm breeze, that came in what felt one long - perpetual - breath, felt like a small comfort under the dark skies.
Levana knew that she had woken up. It was a chore to drag the mind from the comfort of closed-eye hallucinations and vanities yet the shivering of her body demanded it. She was greeted by a gray uniform landscape, where everything past five yards where indistinguishable from the grayness above. If she concentrated she could see small strands in the haze drifting a little quicker than its counterparts in the large, homogeneous mass. She forced herself up and moving despite the pain emerging in her stiff, wet extremities. The morning breeze had dried up most of the wetness but everything - including her bread as she would find out, but suspected from the moment she woke up - was encased in a dampness that made one question if it ever would dissipate; even in immense heat from scorching sun. Levana did jumping jacks in an attempt to regain some lost steam, and it did have some effect, but not as much as she had hoped. She shivered through her breakfast of wet bread and wet nuts that she ate while crouching on unstable rocks, and continued shivering as she pushed upwards, what she hoped was onward. The map had been ruined by the rain, so there was no way knowing anyhow. The stones wobbled unpleasantly under her feet but she hardly noticed at this point, perhaps an inherent sort of faith - but she refused to let her thoughts go there.
It was not possible not to feel fear as she got up another crest and found no way to go on. About a yard from where she was standing there suddenly was a fall, dropping what appeared to be about ten feet down. Not an impossible jump but landing on a thin strip of slanted wet, slippery, sharp rocks did increase the risks a bit. She sat down, exhausted, hungry and distraught. The wind howled. Loneliness set in, as it inexorably does. She brought up her mental recollection of the map, and if she was right, she needed to continue in the same direction - there was no other way. She began to feel the misery set in, hope dissipate, the mist close in. Even though it was quite ridiculous she could hear him speak to her "A mythology not inherited but created. The myth of Osier is not one out of fear of it, but fear of oneself. Create your own mythology, your own hero's; or even better BE your own hero." And as if it was destined to be the sun cracked glanced briefly as in recognition of her idea, bringing physical relief to her shattered psyche. And even if it was ridiculous she allowed her to be entranced in the divinity of the moment, and without thought stood up and walked toward the edge. She braced her body and leaped off. Even though the time spent in mid-air was brief it was enough for her to shift her thoughts from divine intervention to human stupidity. She cried out briefly before the pain of impact set in. She landed on a rock that skidded away as she touched it with her foot, giving way to a blunt, but still relatively sharp rock that laid perpendicular. She felt it tear into her foot, and hoped that it wasn't too deep. Quickly she bent her knee and toppled so that she laid down on the rocks, which didn't hurt as much as she thought. But then as soon as she thought that she had managed it safely she felt the rocks under her start to slide. In a panic she watched as the edge grew closer. Three yards. Quickly she jumped up and gave it a brief look. One yard. She jumped once more to the side, but they started sliding as well. Two yards away. In an unexpected moment of clarity she gathered her calm and simply walked sideways. One yard. No hasty movements, making sure that she was careful in what stones to wear. In reality it was in the span of a few seconds, but her mind worked in the pace that it had to in order to survive. A few steps more and she felt that the ground was stable again. Looking back she saw the last of the rocks topple over the edge, followed a few seconds by a dim thud. She sat down gently on the wobbly rocks and inspected her foot, which was throbbing at this point. But she saw nothing, maybe there would be a bruise, but at least no cuts. Lucky didn't even begin to describe it. She stood up and continued on, the sun moving behind the mist once more.
The last piece of wet bread was enjoyed carefully, savoring every bite. It was something she had learned long ago in the face of the chance of starvation. But she wasn't particularly worried, at worst it was a three day trek home and water wasn't a concern. But that didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy her bread. She sat down on a un-wobbly, stable stone where she had spread her blanket for the night. She looked outwards as the haze had begun to dissipate, small whispers of whats beyond sometimes appearing in a flash. It made it all the more enticing to watch. The risk of missing even a glimpse made it all the more important to never look away. She chuckled at what she was doing. Staring into an empty gray haze on top of a holy mountain, in the middle of the clouds.
She went through the map in her head once more, and if her assumptions were correct she should reach Osier by tomorrow, day after at worst. Levana had been so preoccupied with the trip itself that she hadn't even begun to think about the destination, something that she know she shouldn't be afraid of - but with a lifetime of indoctrination she couldn't help it. She shuddered at the thought, the legends of men nearing the tree and spontaneously going up in flames entered her mind. Animals offered up before it, swallowing them whole. She never had understood that one, seeing as she had never seen a plant with a mouth. The whole thing was silly, she knew that, but somewhere in her, something made her seize up in anxiety the more she thought about it. So, instead she diverted her thoughts to Benjy. She touched her pendant, and drifted to the glade, to the last time she had seen him, drifting away unintentionally into unconsciousness.
It had been raining for weeks without any end in sight. The village of Shalin had inadvertently slipped into a gloomy state of just maintaining habit. Everybody had their schedule that they followed, the same job everyday, the same dinner cooked, the same bedtime, and the same time that you rose. For a brief moment, as the fields of grains began dying it seemed that Levana was the only one asking herself 'How bad does this get?'
The morning gatherings had been canceled for three weeks straight, seeing as there was no sun to predict anything with. Some took this as a sign of the world ending and spent their days in the church half-starving on saved nuts and grains from the previous season, some laying in a pile of despair on the wooden floor of the pub. Levana's father went through withdrawals, lying shivering on the floor and vomiting into a bucket for three days, then going off on a single, monumental, bender, only to repeat the cycle again. Her brother didn't mind the ordeal though, maybe he was too young, so he was merely perpetually confused. It was hard to fake a smile when he wanted to play though, and that cost her more energy than thinking about anything else, even the most morose of questions.
One identical morning Levana did something different. Before the sun rose she left the village and aimed for the glade, for some reason beyond her. She had woken up from a sweat, dreaming of a hellish mountain filled with black rocks that she needed to climb, and at the top was Benjy, but this time he had a long white beard and as she got closer he began rapidly aging, just before being able to touch him he withered away into bones. But the image of the dream soon faded, only leaving behind a vague imprint in her memory of an emotion, a feeling that she wasn't going to lose him. So, as soon as she woke up she packed a small satchel and went on her way. She hadn't returned since the last time when she stumbled upon Benjy, maybe out of worry that she would accept his idea of leaving the village. Something that she regretted on some days now in the season of perpetual rain, even though she knew that the reasons why she had chosen to stay still remained the same.
A few hours later she crossed the edge of the forest to the familiar glade; however, most of the grass had now transformed into mud, probably from wild boars seeing from the tracks imprinted in the ground below. As if it would make any difference she carefully crossed the muddy field, and made her way to the cabin. As she got closer, a feeling crawled up on her that something seemed odd. If a building ever could be alive, this one was cold, stiff and in the grave. No light came through the small window slit. She knocked on the door but no one came. She entered.
As she had feared no one was there. Everything had been abandoned except for a few dirty foot prints heading in and out of the door and a fireplace, which granted would be a pain to move; however, there was a letter on the floor in the center of the room. She went over and picked it up. It said Levana on it so instantly she ripped it open. It was written using crude charcoal, but on fancy priest paper. Something that he must have stolen. She began reading.
Levana,
I think this is the end for me staying here, it's given me all that it can, and I to it. Of course I would've loved it if you had come along, but I could never truly ask that of you.
There's an old saying in Osier mythology (that's what I have begun calling it) that the inheritance of its belief onto the next generation is the greatest virtue you can perform. Those words have echoed through my mind as I have sat here in mediation for many hours, and I have come up with what I think is a more fitting proverb: A mythology not inherited but created. The myth of Osier is not one out of fear of it, but fear of oneself. Create your own mythology, your own hero's; or even better BE your own hero.
You are already my hero in one sense Levana, but I know that if you were your own you would soar through the skies. No one I know is as strong as you are.
I wanted you to know that.
Benjy
She held the paper in front of her and stared at the unlit fireplace, then returned to the letter, rereading it once more. Just as most people in the village she went through this cycle for what seemed like weeks before returning to the village.
Three days later the sun came out, the morning ritual was performed as usual, her Dad began drinking as usual, the grains were planted once more, a group of hunters had great luck, and most villagers bragged of their divine luck. Everything was back to normal but Levana wondered if she ever truly would. A mythology not inherited but created had begun echoing through her head, amplifying for every oscillation. Funnily enough, it seemed she had inherited those words from Benjy. She chuckled at the thought. In a moment of habit she prepared the teapot for afternoon tea while her brother sat in the corner and banged a stick against a wooden block.
Sooner or later the time comes to wake up. Even Levana, in pain, exhausted beyond belief, woke up like everybody else. The early morning sun was beating down hard, making the stones outside of her spread out blanket incredibly hot to the touch. She sat up and looked around, stunned at the view. Toward the steppes she could see further than she had ever done before, miles and miles of grassland and grazing herds of what appeared to be sheep, even the hints of a city just above the horizon - something that the people of Shalin had never known, or been that interested in finding out. Turning her attention to the direction of the village and the view was completely different. The thick foliage of the trees laid a cover of green, like a roof over most of the valley; only the village peeked out adjacent to the cliffs from where Levana was standing. She thought that she was able to see where the leaf cover became thinner, and therefore be able to see the glade, but that might have been wishful thinking. She began sweating from the sun, which seeing how far it had gone in the sky, was approaching the end of morning. She began packing up her things, that now had dried out completely.
Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the optimism, but the pain quickly dissipated as she begun the ascent. It felt like she was getting close. And sooner or later, everyone eventually gets to where they're going. As the sun had passed noon but was still close to perpendicular to where she was, creating a strange landscape with minimal shadows. So she walked carefully, taking one step at a time while looking down at the ground. Suddenly, one step later the ground below her transformed into a dirt path. Looking up she saw a path trailing up a steep climb without any loose rocks. It was as if a path had been carved into the stone wall. She felt a knot in her stomach, but she had trouble deciding if it was one of anxiety or anticipation. She increased her pace, both due to the road but mostly due to her will.
But the pace quickly slowed as the familiar pattern of another steep hill behind the crest emerged once more. It was unbelievable how fast the body adapted to a new baseline; the path that initially had seemed soft like velvet now started to hurt for every step like the previous rocks. The sun was now half immersed in the west and the initial burst of energy had been turned off. But she dragged herself on, kept saying to herself "Just one step longer and then you can rest." but she never did. Is it possible to trick your own body using your brain? Maybe, or at least she now worked on the premise that it was so.
But, not long after that - walking over yet another crest - she was certain that she had made it. Like a gate carved out of the stone wall the path ended just above, with something with the appearance of a grassy field on the other side. She began running, ignoring her feet and legs pleads for relief. The gate was roughly made and it looked like the excavation had started from the outline of a small tunnel of some sort, and then gradually expanded afterwards. Carefully, gently she walked through it, savoring it as the last piece of bread. It quickly became dark, and her eyes tried to adjust but she soon emerged from the other side again; greeted with a pristine field with the greenest grass and flowers seemingly placed sporadically in an arranged way of randomness. It was about 30 yards across, running around in as much a perfect circle that nature could ever provide. The field was surrounded by steep stone walls on every side except three brief pauses, the tunnel from whose mouth she was standing, a path to her left toward the steppes, and a small slit facing Shalin. On the opposite side of where she was standing was where the Osier must be, she thought. A bower of vines rising to the edge of the stone wall, providing cover for what appeared to be a rather small tree in the middle of the vine covering. Now the adrenaline had taken over the aching pain, and the steps toward it was not felt at all, she drifted over the grassy field. As she got closer the more she started questioning what she was seeing, at a distance it had seemed like a tree, small but a tree; half-way it began to seem like it had shrunken a little bit more than that; and now a few yards away it seemed like it had withered away long ago, with only the bones left, leaving a hint of what once was. She stopped before the dry twigs sticking out of the ground and sat down before it. A chilly wind blew and the pain quickly emerged once more. Everything culminated in one big mess of uncomprehending, overwhelming, purely raw emotion, and she sat and cried until the tears came no more. Visions of her mother swirled with the teachings of Osier, all the people in the village and all their superstition & mannerisms with her father in one big soup, Benjy alone. Her brother being raised into something that wasn't true, but the question was if it ever had been? She wasn't too interested in finding out. She opened her eyes and wiped away the tears but her vision was still blurry. Levana stood up and began pacing back and forth through the field, now savoring the pain in her feet. As if she deserved it, somehow. Back and forth, forth and back in small steps. Sooner or later she ought an answer ought to come forward, it had to. She walked past the tunnel; the slit overlooking Shalin, even if most of it was blocked by the difference in elevation; and finally the path down toward the steppes, which she had until this point ignored. Something glimmered in the last rays from the setting sun from a branch leaning against the wall. She investigated closer and found a pendant, a silver pendant, her pendant. Benjy's pendant. As if she had realized something profound she stopped crying instantly. She grabbed her pendant from her neck and started comparing the two; the shape and size of it was the same, the material and color was the same, the chain was identical albeit in different lengths. First she thought them to be indistinguishable from each other, but one difference suddenly showed itself. In her pendant was a carved L on the lower corner of the back, on the pendant on the stick a carved B. She had never noticed that before but it now became all that she thought she ever could. And in an instant she knew what she needed to do, something that she never had noticed before, something that was now painfully obvious. She walked over to the dead Osier and pulled it from it's dead roots, giving way easily. In an act of determination, and sudden lucidity she threw it over the edge of the slit overlooking Shalin, a few seconds after the familiar thud. Directly she went toward the path leading down to the steppes and grabbed the pendant from the stick. Saying goodbye for good is never easy, she thought as she took her first painful steps down the path.