Eve of Enlightenment

Chapter 53

The interlocking boughs overhead carry a sense of security... a sense of home. How long have they grown here, holding up the sky? They belong to this land, built it. I can't help but imagine their strong arms, like those of my ancestors, shielding us just as they shielded this village for centuries.

My head grows dreamy at the familiar strength of the forest. Even the moss, which I realize I haven't seen in the months since my flight, fills me with nostalgia. It's amazing, the paltry things you never think you'd never miss until you find them again. I have returned, finally: soles thin and soul full.

I grasp at the cool and creeping vines as if shaking the hands of old friends. I breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of home. It's only then that I recognize the sharp twinge of smoke in the air. Dread fills me immediately and completely. Ohna perhaps sensing this, quickens her steps alongside mine.

I try to rationalize my worries: it could be a campfire. ...If only it weren't the middle of the day. A temperate, beautiful, sunny day. How can everything feel so wrong on such a perfect day?

We clamber through creek beds, disrupting the fish and the algae. We scramble up hillsides. We tear through picturesque, grassy fields. And, all the while, the smell of smoke grows stronger.

It fills my nose, my lungs, until I swear it is burning from within me. My head is frantic with fear. I think first of Mab and Teak. Of my family. Of my home. What has become of them? As desperately as I want to know, I am equally afraid to learn.

The boy who ran, though, is not the same as the one who has returned.

I have faced mountains. I have faced deserts. I have faced bears and caves and love and loss. I feel the same feelings, but they no longer have dominion over me. Not with a sword at my side and a dragon at my back. Not with love to heal me and friends to aid me. I am not alone. I was never alone. I owe it to them, to myself, to see. To see this through to the end, whatever that may be.

The ground grows loose with mud and trampled grass as we near the encampment. There has been a struggle here. I see impressions of civilization in the form of footprints, discarded supplies, tattered tents. The wall stands high and imposing. I can see where someone has undoubtedly, futilely, tried to damage it. Helpless messages are scrawled across its austere face.

Names, pleas, directions. Families separated, plans to reunite. Curses alongside prayers.

Even the flora seems to have retreated. Char marks climb the trees, singeing leaves and limbs alike. Mud sucks at my boots, and I lace them tighter to keep from losing them. Ohna beholds all, somber in her horror. I wish I hadn't brought her. I am selfishly grateful that I did. I cannot imagine facing these losses without her.

The gate appears to be the epicenter of this disaster. Whatever ground was gained against the town was lost. Reinforced and barbed, it looks more daunting than ever.

There is no sign of Mab or the others. I wonder if they were at the heart of the assault. It doesn't appear that they have fared well. I don't know how much difference my presence might have made, but I am ashamed that I wasn't here to help. They needed me, and I failed them. All of them.