The Oak Hotel - Watty Awards 2013 Finalist

Chapter Forty-nine - Forever Oak

Chapter Forty-nine

Forever Oak

Walking side-by-side, Kayleigh and Lincoln shuffled through an ever-deepening shroud of autumn leaves. They had been transported to a meadow in the middle of the woods. It was early morning and they were in a different, possibly northern part of Te’hæra Thorn. Fall had disguised the land in a brilliant quilt of ginger, crimson and gold. Many leaves were of familiar origin: maple, oak and poplar, though some were oddly shaped. Lincoln knelt to retrieve a large, orange leaf shaped like a scalloped diamond.

“Cool,” he said, letting it spiral to the ground.

A constant breeze pushed against them as they made their way through a wide space between the trees. The air was suffused with what made autumn their favorite season back home.

“It was fall when we left,” Kayleigh said.

“Do you remember sneaking out of your parents basement?” Lincoln asked. “Cutting through yards until we came to your grandparents’ house?”

Kayleigh nodded, grinning. She refused to think further on Truman Stitch trapping them and forcing their passage into Burnam Tau’roh. She preferred, instead, to remain with the memory of she and Lincoln on their evening trip through Autumn Harbor.

“The air smelled the same as here,” she said. “I wonder if there’s an ocean nearby.”

Lincoln took a deep breath, then stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Kayleigh asked. Lincoln shook his head before speaking.

“I’m terrified of what’s going to happen when we get back to the Oak Hotel.”

Kayleigh stood there staring at him. Around her, leaves fell in a choreographed dance only the de’Malange might truly understand.

“I’m afraid, too,” she said. “For both of us.”

A quick wind rose, rushing down from a hill to their right, and with it a sound. A familiar whisper.

“I am here I am here I am here…”

It sounded just like Kafir Rosette.

“That tree,” Kayleigh said, moving toward the hill.

Lincoln followed, glancing at what appeared to be a small tree at the top of the rise before them.

The wind came again, combing through the leaves of the young tree, “Yes I see I see you I know you are there…”

“That can’t be Kafir!” Lincoln said, dazed.

Kayleigh shook her head at once, “No. She’s something else.”

They reached the top and knelt upon the springy, moss covered ground. The tree was small, seven or eight feet tall, its branches filled with less than a hundred miniature oak leaves.

“Who are you?” Kayleigh whispered.

“I am El Rhea… Rest your head rest sleep I will help…”

Kayleigh, running her fingers delicately along the tree’s bark, shifted until she was resting her head against the small mound of ground roots. Lincoln did the same, moving so his forehead was only an inch from Kayleigh’s.

First, they only looked into each other’s eyes and it was a peaceful moment both wished could go on forever.

Another strong gust of wind filled the leaves. Further words from El Rhea: “Take your doubts… take your pain… take your—”