purify - firewind // cookie run

in my birthday suit

art by @sysoleil_ on twitter

-

Wind Archer's second arrival at the beach hadn't been nearly as calm as the first. He heaved short breaths in and out, clinging desperately to the bead, hands trembling with dread. As soon as his feet hit the sand, spots began to fill his vision. He took a few moments to steady his breath, mindlessly running his left hand over the cracks of the bead before setting it down in the sand.

The beach wasn't nearly as warm as it had been when he left for Maze Grove. It must have been midnight by then. He had to get the bead to a healing warmth, but the night had grown too cold, and there was no way he could travel to Dragon's Valley with so little energy. The cracking had stopped, but the fractures were so deep that he couldn't help the anxious, burning ache that rose in his chest.

Wind Archer would probably need to heal it himself. He would rather spend the last of his energy on the bead than wake up and find it broken. He could have killed the spirit up there in the mountains; the ice would have shattered him into pieces. Picking it up, he observed the large crack. An ugly, murky and violet substance painted the insides of the cracks. Its place of origin—the giant crack in the center—was a suffocating vacuum of light, making it difficult for Wind Archer to breathe. On the journey to the beach, it had practically been sucking up his life force. He considered the pain the fallen spirit would be in if he were conscious.

Paranoid, he called upon the winds that danced upon the shore—even those that traveled just southeast towards Dragon's Valley-—to heal the bead before him. Kneeling down and closing his eyes, the emerald atop his forehead shined a bright green.

He could not understand why he would do such a thing. His body was in no way prepared to transmit such energy to a cookie, let alone the fallen spirit. And yet, his heart panged at the sight of the cracks splicing the bead open, the darkness spreading across his vessel, void of all mercy. The ache was reminiscent of how he felt towards the forest: a longing that held no bounds, one that made him want to tear the enemy apart. It was not an uncommon feeling, for it had made its rounds in his life of protecting the cookies of Earthbread. But for Fire Spirit Cookie?

The currents twirled around him and the orb, and his palms tingled with warmth. Slowly but surely, he felt the cracks begin to seal.

Whether he had sat there for seconds, minutes, or hours, Wind Archer couldn't recall. What he could recall, however, was the feeling of his head hitting the sand, and his body pulling him into a deep, deep slumber.

-

"Wind Archer Cookie?"

"Yes, my Tree?"

Despite his adamant refusal, Wind Archer had been off patrol for the afternoon at the Millennial Tree's request. He would not dare defy his word, except for when it came to the safety of the forest. But with enough "please"s and "but you must"s and "you've been working so hard lately"s, he eventually surrendered. So he reluctantly rested on a tree at the center of Maze Grove, stationed defensively near his master.

Millennial Tree seemed to take in the sound of the gentle breeze for a moment, before asking, "Pray tell, do you enjoy being by my side all time?"

"Of course, my Tree." he answered immediately, awestruck. "As your guardian, it is my duty to serve you at all times, in life and death."

"Well, my dear guardian," he began, his smile full of saccharine, "I deeply value your dedication to me. But you must understand that you have the gift of kindness. I know you can and will assist just about any heavy heart that crosses your path. You do not need my permission to do so if it so comes to it. After all, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."