Chapters An Unexpected Arrival
For a short time, she was content to simply sit and watch. The night had been the perfect time for her ritual: Pitch dark, heavy rain falling so thick and hard that the wind was barely able to push it this way and that, and it instead fell in near-perfect vertical sheets. Her small bowls gave off the only tiny radiance over the little stone table behind which she was seated, and was just barely protected from the seasonal rains. She could have stretched out her hand and touched the rain as though it were a waterfall, or the barrier between her small dry world, and the larger, wetter one.
She’d been sitting in silent meditation for untold time, when something in the din of the rain made her eyes slowly open. At first, she couldn’t be sure what it was she was seeing, and even when she knew, she felt no particular compunction to investigate it. She had no want of visitors after all. But then the black figure came close enough for her to see its gait, and to understand that the discordant sound from the rain was that of whimpers and heavy breathing.
And then the figure dropped. Face forward. Into the mud.
Rising from the little table, she made sure to put out the feeble lights, and stepped out of her own small world, into the harsh and driving storm. A rumble of thunder in the distance echoed across the near grassless plain as she approached the figure quickly. As she stooped to heft the body up, a distant bolt of lightning illuminated the flat land all around in stark blacks and whites. Except for the figure’s back, which in the flash of white, glimmered momentarily crimson.
The girl felt herself waking, and instinctively tried to remain unconscious. She had absolutely no desire to open her eyes ever again, but no sooner had these gloomy thoughts trickled across her mind, then was there an inevitable series of natural processes that brought consciousness ebbing across her mind like sunlight across the dunes. There was no stopping it.
The girl awoke to an indignant stab of pain. She’d expected that, but still didn’t appreciate it. It was almost enough to put her out of temper. That is, until she spotted the figure nearby.
“I wouldn’t try sitting up,” it said, not looking up from what it was doing.
Despite these words, the girl’s arms automatically reached backwards to try and lever her torso up. That is until the left arm reflexively shot back down as what felt like a bolt of lightning shot through her bones. The girl’s breath caught in her throat and she fell back in a brief rictus of pain.
“Please don’t do that again,” the figure said, still not looking up from its work. “My ability to treat injuries is fairly limited in this environment. Should you bleed out any further than you already have, there may be nothing I can do to help you.”
The girl forced her eyes to open, and she tried to gain a better look at her host. She didn’t have much success. She appeared to be within some kind of dwelling parched of light, leaving most of the interior in shadow. Outside, through two circular windows and a semi-circular doorway, was the clearest and bluest of skies.
“Who are you?” the girl asked faintly.
The figure held up a small bowl and inspected the contents, as though not hearing the question. After a few moments it put the bowl down and leaned over a small, dancing flame, in search of something on the table, throwing her features into sharp relief.
“I call myself Sunset,” this person replied.
In the light from the tiny flame, the girl was able to make out Sunset’s individual features. She might have gasped at what she saw, had she the energy for it, for she’d never seen anyone with quite so striking an appearance. Her skin was a subtle golden colour, her eyes a deep aquamarine. What looked like tattoos, or perhaps merely paint adorned her eyes and mouth. Her hair was mostly short and standing, but several red and gold woven braids of it adorned with simple metal pieces hung more numerously from the right-side of her head than the left, draping her shoulders.
“Is this your house?” the girl asked.
“This is the place where I live,” the other confirmed.
The girl tilted her head a little to one side. “Do you always answer questions like that?”
“Do you always ask questions?”
The girl pursed her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, lying back. “I don’t really remember what happened between—“ She stopped herself and started again. “I don’t know how I got here, but I’m guessing you helped me.” She touched the cloth that had been wrapped around her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Sunset replied.
A short silence followed.
“Do you want me to be quiet?” the girl asked.
“I have no particular need for you to be quiet,” Sunset said, now taking a small pestle to the little bowl.
“Can I ask more questions, then?”
Sunset paused for the first time in her work, her green eyes flickering to the girl. She seemed to consider a while, or perhaps was choosing the wording of her answer carefully. Maybe she was just drawing out the silence whilst she had it; the girl found it hard to tell what Sunset’s mood was.
“I didn’t mean what I said about you asking questions as a scolding. I’m sorry that my phrasing led you to believe that.” She inclined her head towards the girl apologetically. “Social skills,” she added, returning to the bowl, “are not my forte.”
The girl lay still and quiet, now feeling rather guilty. This person had helped her, perhaps saved her life, and was housing her whilst she recovered. She saw now that her questioning could be construed as suspicion, or mistrust.
“I don’t want to ask anything personal,” she said carefully. When Sunset said nothing to this, she struck upon an idea she thought would be more courteous. “Would you like me to tell you about me? I’m being a rude—“ She hesitated, and then settled on, “guest. I haven’t introduced myself.”
“If you should like to tell me something of yourself, you may feel free to do so. But not now.”
The girl blinked. “You don’t want to know who I am?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.
“You are a young girl I found collapsed and bleeding in the rain,” Sunset said evenly. “That’s all I need to know to help you.”
The girl frowned, genuinely confused. “But, what if I’m dangerous?” she asked. “I could be a thief, or a murderer.”
“Are you either of those things?” Sunset asked, scraping a thick paste from the little bowl onto the contents of a slightly larger bowl.
“Well, no, but—“
“If you were either, it’s unlikely that you’d divulge that information simply because I asked you who you were,” Sunset said, standing up and coming to sit on a stool next to the cot-like bed the girl was lying in. In one hand she held the bowl, which the girl suddenly noticed contained food. “You were running from something, or someone, with nothing to hold onto as you lost yourself in a stormy land. I doubt, from this, that you are anything very terrible.”
“Running?” the girl asked, her organs plummeting within her.
Sunset looked her in the eye for a moment before turning away. “At least, that is how it appeared to me. Perhaps I am reading too much into it. Now eat this,” she said, helping the girl to sit up a little. “It’ll dull the pain a little, and bring your strength back faster.”
The girl sat there, the bowl of food in her hand, and her golden-skinned host sitting patiently beside her. To her horror, she felt her eyes begin to prickle with the heat of tears.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice turning brittle as she stared down into the food.
Sunset frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”
The girl looked into Sunset’s smooth expression for a short time, trying to perceive answers from the inscrutable face, the unblinking eyes. She had to admit after a while however, that she could glean no answers there, and so blinking away the moisture in her eyes, began to eat.
Apparently satisfied, Sunset watched the girl eat some of the food for a moment, and then stood up, and walked outside. The girl started.
“W-Where are you going?” she blurted.
Sunset sat down at her little stone table. “To here.”
“Oh,” the girl said, her heart rate decreasing. “That’s cool. Not that I was worried you were leaving.”
“Whoever said that you were?” Sunset asked, crossing her legs and facing the sun-scorched plains.
“I didn’t,” the girl said.
There was a pause.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” the girl said.
“As I said,” Sunset sighed. “I’ve been alone for some time. I’m a little out of the habit of it.”
“Well it’s a good thing I came along, isn’t it?” the girl said, cheerfully.
Sunset arranged a few figures on her stone table, and lit the small burning bowls. Staring out onto the moist but rapidly drying plains before her, she exhaled.
“That remains to be seen.”
The Philosophy of Seclusion
The Philosophy of Seclusion
As Sunset had explained to her, the girl’s injury was not deep, and therefore not life-threatening. A steady stream of remedies and poultices made their way from the long table on one wall, onto bandages, and onto the girl’s reddened shoulder, where they burned and soothed; although usually the former rather than the latter.
“The pain means that it’s working,” Sunset would say with a slightly twisted smile.
As Sunset had advised, the girl remained in her cot for the worst of it, but was up and around within two days, already having gotten bored within the first two hours. Her shoulder stiff from pain and lack of use, she managed to walk around the small dwelling, and then outside. She found little to remark upon.
Sunset’s house – the girl supposed it to be a house – was built between two monolithic stones, one of which seemed to have collapsed against the other at some point in its past, creating a triangle of space where a sturdy yet simple structure of clay stood, not unlike a bee-hive or wasp’s nest, built into the space. Outside of the doorway, still within the titanic shadow of the leaning stone, was a small, low table, where the girl frequently espied Sunset seated.
“You should be resting,” Sunset said, her eyes closed.
“I got bored,” the girl shrugged, sitting a respectful distance from the table. When Sunset didn’t respond to this, the girl went on. “You spend a lot of time here.”
“It is my home.”
“No, I mean at that little table,” the girl elaborated. “You sit there for, like, hours.”
“It is important to me,” Sunset said quietly. “And the word you’re looking for is altar.”
“Is it a traditional thing?” the girl inquired, looking more keenly at the little statues and burning bowls on the crude stone table. “Sitting there and... breathing.”
“It originates from amongst my people,” Sunset conceded. “Although I dare say other cultures have derived similar rituals.”
The girl pursed her lips. “You’re very none-specific. Did you know that?”
“I fail to see what elaborating on my activities would accomplish.”
“Because I’m interested.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know more about you.”
Sunset opened her eyes. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps I live alone on the dusty plains because I don’t want people to know more about me?”
The girl looked away, feeling perhaps she’d overstepped herself. “I’m sorry.”
“There is no need to be,” Sunset assured her, closing her eyes again. “There is no shame in curiosity, but like any tool one must be careful how it is used, and where it is applied.”
The girl frowned. “What?”
“You should be careful where your curiosity leads you,” Sunset said, the slightest note of impatience permeating her determinately calm voice. “It can get you into trouble if you’re not careful with it.”
“Oh,” the girl said quickly, nodding. After a slight pause, she asked a question. “Aren’t you curious about me?”
“Yes,” Sunset replied. “In some regards.”
“How come you don’t ask me any questions?”
“Because you are not ready to tell me anything of yourself yet.”
The girl felt the colour leaving her face. Her eyes widened, and she suddenly felt the dull ache in her shoulder more keenly than before.
“What do you mean?” she blurted, feeling all-of-a-sudden boxed in.
For the second time, Sunset’s eyes opened, slowly, and only part way. Slits of aqua appraised the girl carefully.
“Do you want to tell me about yourself?”
The girl bit her lip. Was Sunset trying to avoid the question?
“No,” the said finally. “I mean... no, I suppose not. Not yet, or—“ She stopped herself.
“When you move on, it will no longer matter,” Sunset commented.
The girl rather thought Sunset meant it in a conciliatory way, but she felt it more like a dismissal.
“I’ll leave soon,” the girl assured her. “But, don’t you want to know my name?”
“Do you want me to ask you what it is?”
“No,” the girl said again. “I suppose, really...” She swallowed down a sudden feeling that’d lodged in her throat. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you. You helped me; I couldn’t put you in danger.”
“Your name is dangerous?” Sunset asked, sounding either intrigued, or amused; it was difficult for the girl to say.
“I suppose you could say that,” the girl mumbled, looking at the floor.
“Then, might I make a suggestion?”
“I guess,” the girl replied, a little nonplussed.
“Choose a new name.”
The girl blinked, her eyebrows rising up her forehead. “Choose one?” she said dumbly. “I don’t know about where you come from, but my people generally don’t just choose new names for ourselves.”
“When I came to live out here, I left my old life behind,” Sunset said. “My name was a part of that life, so I left it behind too.” She raised her hand, and showed the girl the mark on its back. It showed a red and yellow sun, with four intricate flares. “I fashioned a name from the deepest, truest part of myself. Something that defined me, no matter who I am in life. Simple, but the truest of names that can describe me. There’s no reason that you could not do the same.”
The girl stared at her, amazed. “Wow,” she said flatly. “That’s the most I’ve heard you speak so far. And you still managed to tell me almost nothing about you.”
Sunset kept her eyes closed, but the girl thought she saw the corner of her mouth twitch. The girl looked down at the back of her own hand. The mark that all of her own people gained when they came of age; the symbol of who they were, and who they were destined to be. She thought vaguely that Sunset’s people must be in some way the same, if they too bore marks like her own. Marks that showed the truest parts of themselves...
A new name. A new life. She had to admit that given how things were, this was deeply appealing. But leaving everything she’d known behind... She shook her head; she had already done that. There was no undoing it. She stared at the mark on her hand, and she felt a sudden recklessness or excitement burgeon within her.
After a few moments, she smiled and looked up. Sunset opened her eyes yet again to find that the girl was holding out her hand. She looked up into the girl’s bright magenta eyes.
“It’s a handshake,” the girl said, whispering for some reason in a conspiratorial way. “Grab my hand.”
Her expression unchanging, Sunset reached slowly out, and clasped the girl’s palm. Ignoring that she had done it wrong, the girl moved her hand up and down, her smile widening.
“How do you do?” she announced. “My name is Sonata!”
Sunset looked between the handshake, and Sonata’s beaming face. “A tradition amongst your people,” she said warily, and then smiled a little. “Hello, Sonata.”
For a while, Sonata wandered a little ways beyond Sunset’s home, not going too far in case she felt her injury catch up with her. Looking across the plains, she saw that it was beautiful in a way. The blue of the sky was perfect and unblemished, except for the small round disc of the sun, which seemed to Sonata to be resting at a respectful distance even as it baked the ground beneath it. Trees lay huddled together in several tiny oases, or in the shadow of more of the enormous rocks like the two Sunset’s house rested between.
She thought how easy it would be, in this vast and featureless desert, to lose one’s self, and to never find again where one had already been. Even Sunset’s peculiar stone home could easily amalgamate into the landscape and leave no impression upon the minds of its beholders.
Was that the point? she thought, looking around from the outcrop of stone she’d found to peer around from.
“Why are you here?”
Sunset didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers in the midst of weaving some kind of dry but still fairly malleable grass, she looped an end of it before reaching for more.
“I live here,” she responded, slipping several more blades into the length of entwined grasses.
“But why?”
“So many questions,” Sunset breathed, as though speaking to herself.
“I don’t want to pry or anything,” Sonata lied, sitting down. “I just wondered if...” She let the sentence die as her thought turned in on itself. It was presumptuous of her to ask or even speculate on Sunset’s motivations really. Especially when she’d already told Sonata that she didn’t want people to know about her.
“I came here to find enlightenment,” Sunset said simply.
“Enlightenment?” Sonata repeated, confused.
“Yes.”
“Like... knowledge? Wisdom?”
“Peace,” Sunset clarified.
“Peace?” Sonata echoed again.
“Please don’t make that a habit,” Sunset muttered, tugging at her creation so that the blades of grass tautened into what was now evidently some kind of thin rope.
Sonata considered. “So, you’re like, a mountain sage.”
Sunset blinked and looked up. “What?” she asked, her usually collected tone faltering into something like bewilderment.
“Well, without the mountain, I guess,” Sonata admitted. She looked up at the sheer face of the two enormous stones looming over them. “You wouldn’t consider this a mountain, would you?”
“I’m not a sage,” Sunset said, returning to her work.
“You kind of are,” Sonata persisted.
“Under what operational standard of the term?” Sunset inquired, sounding either annoyed or amused. Again, Sonata found it hard to tell.
“Whu’?” Sonata asked, puzzled.
“How do I qualify as a sage?” Sunset asked.
“You’re a lonely person living in a difficult to live place searching for knowledge about life and the universe. And stuff.”
“Firstly,” Sunset said, tugging sharply on the next weave of new rope, as though it were a chicken’s neck she was trying to snap. “I’m not lonely. I’m simply fond of my solitude.”
Sonata personally couldn’t see the difference, but she let that one pass. “Well, the rest still counts. Sages don’t have to be lonely, I suppose. My village had stories where there were a bunch of sages up on a single mountain together.”
“Secondly,” Sunset said a little doggedly, cutting through the tangent. “I don’t live on a mountain.”
“In a mountain?” Sonata tried. “Under a mountain.”
“This isn’t a mountain.”
“It kind of is.”
“Oh, sweet Celestia...” Sunset groaned quietly, setting her weaving aside. “I am not a sage,” she said firmly. “I’m not lonely, I don’t live on a mountain, and I’m not wise or knowledgeable. I’m just a person trying to live in peace away from people I cou—“ She stopped herself. The look that came across her face was hard to read, like so many of her expressions, but Sonata noticed a tinge of colour suffuse her cheeks.
Sonata wondered whether she should drop the conversation entirely; it was clear she’d made Sunset uncomfortable somehow. Whilst she puzzled on a change of topic, or a means of segueing into another activity and thus alleviate the tension, she was saved by Sunset abruptly standing and walking over to the side of the vertical stone of her home.
“Come with me,” she said a little tersely.
“Um... w-where?” Sonata asked, feeling cold. Had she pushed too far? Strayed upon a subject she ought to have stayed well away from? Was Sunset about to dismiss her? Send her on her way?
Sunset picked up a pot, and weaved the rope she’d been making between the pot’s handles so that she could hold the pot on her shoulder. This action did nothing to alleviate Sonata’s fear. But then Sunset said:
“I need to show you where the water is,” she said, her tone ebbing back to its usual calm. “We’ll be running out soon.”
“Oh!” Sonata exclaimed, relieved. “Should I—“ she began, noticing a second oval-shaped urn where the first had lain.
“It would not be advisable with your injury,” Sunset said, looping the rope through the second set of handles so that both could be carried across her shoulders.
“Oh,” Sonata said again, absently feeling the wrapping over her own shoulder. “I guess you’re right.”
Sonata was astonished to discover that the watering hole was in fact not a minute’s distance away from the two-stone home. She hadn’t seen it on her scan of the surroundings, she now saw, because it was concealed between a small clump of trees with heavy-looking fruit of unfamiliar shape and colour, and a jut of rock that looked as though a massive hammer had struck the plain at one point.
“Probably the Caster,” Sonata said wisely, rubbing her chin and pretending to examine the shape of the pool whilst Sunset gathered the water.
“Who?” Sunset asked.
“The Caster. The god of making stuff,” Sonata explained. “He probably struck his hammer here and made this pool.”
“Ahh,” Sunset replied, nodding. “Your people’s patron deity of crafts and artisans.”
“Artisans, yeah,” Sonata affirmed, snapping her fingers. “I always used to forget that word.”
Sunset placed the full jug against the jutting wall of rock, and went to sit beneath one of the trees. After a moment of hesitation, Sonata tentatively joined her. During Sonata’s period of indecision, Sunset retrieved several fruit from the ground around her, and began to peel one of its skin. She handed another to Sonata, who eyed it doubtfully.
“You should keep up your strength.”
Sonata attempted to copy Sunset’s peeling of the fruit, revealing a pleasant orangey-yellow flesh beneath. Sniffing at it a little, she licked the flesh gingerly, and then nibbled at it.
“It’s sweet!” she cried, delighted.
Sunset smiled a little at this reaction, tossing a large stone from the middle of the fruit into the trees.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Sonata said, hunching over her knees a little. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You did not,” Sunset replied. “There’s just...” She paused, and then seemed to change tact. “I don’t agree with your definition of a sage.”
Sonata looked up at her. “Okay. How would you define a sage?”
Sunset chewed slowly on the fruit in her hand, staring into the pool. “Mm.” She swallowed. “Where I hail from, a sage is a man who has devoted his life to the study of elusive and esoteric knowledge. They cut themselves off from the world to be free of distraction, and are only disturbed from their studies by the summons of... erm, one important enough.”
Sonata lifted her hands and counted something on her fingers.
“Well, you’re three of those things.”
Sunset scowled. “How do you come to that?”
“Well, you’re not a man,” Sonata conceded. “But you’ve devoted yourself to studying el-oos-iv, and... what was that word?”
“Esoteric.”
“Yeah, that. Esoteric stuff. And you’ve cut yourself off from the world, and you’ve only been disturbed by someone important.”
Sunset’s mouth creased into a slight smile. “Indeed?”
Sonata grinned cheekily.
“Well, granting you that last one,” Sunset said, sounding amused. “I hardly call peace, esoteric knowledge. And I’ve not cut myself off from the world; just my fellow creatures. Besides, when I said that sages cut themselves off from the world, I meant that they sequester themselves away in libraries or other places of study, not experiencing life or the world.”
“I’d call peace esoteric knowledge,” Sonata said a little grimly. “And I still don’t see how you’re that different from your description,” Sonata concluded.
“It’s a matter of subtleties,” Sunset said with dignity. “Something I rather suspect that you somewhat—“ She was interrupted as, with a strong over-arm throw, Sonata tossed her stone into the water, where it made a loud plopping noise. “—lack,” Sunset finished, as Sonata sat back down again, biting her lip and clutching at her shoulder.
“But I used my good arm!” she moaned.
Sunset sighed.
The Tale of Two Villages
“What do you do here?”
Sunset didn’t look away from the pot, where the savoury smell of cooking herbs and tubers was rising. She did momentarily look up at the thin chimney, which rose between the crack of the two embracing stones that stood over her dwelling.
“What I have to,” Sunset replied.
“Still no answers, huh?” Sonata asked, lying in her cot. “Don’t you get bored?”
“I’m usually well enough occupied,” Sunset said, stirring the contents of the pot. “Perhaps if you found something to do, you wouldn’t feel bored yourself.”
“I didn’t say I was bored,” Sonata said, lying back.
A short pause ensued.
“Okay, I’m bored.”
“Does eating alleviate your boredom?”
“Temporarily,” Sonata answered musingly. “But afterwards, I get bored again.”
Sunset surreptitiously rolled her eyes. “Well it doesn’t look like I picked enough from the garden for the stew. Would you mind picking a few more potatoes?”
“Sure!” Sonata said, jumping up eagerly.
Sunset waited for a moment as Sonata rushed out of the door, and then rushed back in.
“Where’s the garden?” she asked. Before Sunset could explain where, the other raised both hands. “No, wait, let me try to find it.”
“No, but—wait—“ Sunset began, frowning. It was too late of course. “She’s going to overexert herself,” she mumbled, shaking her head and returning her attention to the dinner. “Few more of... A little of this...” she muttered to herself, methodically adding a few beans and sliced somethings into the pot.
It took Sonata a full fifteen minutes to come back, panting and looking pale.
“I didn’t find the garden,” she said, faintly. “But I did feel something... in my arm. When I tried to climb up and look around, I think...”
She put her good hand to her head as though trying to steady herself. Sunset stood up, her sharp eyes on the dark stain moving across Sonata’s bandage.
“Foolish girl,” Sunset spat, jumping up.
“N-No, I’m fine, it’s just—“
“Sit down and stop talking,” Sunset said tersely, pushing Sonata gently down onto the cot.
“Am I talking too much again?” Sonata asked, managing an apologetic grin.
“It’s sapping your energy,” Sunset explained. “Just try to relax. What in the world possessed you to go climbing in your state?”
“To see where your potatoes are. I tried it one-handed, so I wouldn’t hurt my shoulder,” Sonata said out of the side of her mouth. “But it still—OW!”
“Try to stay still,” Sunset said, peeling the bandage off. “You’re lucky it’s only opened up a little. Hold this.”
Sonata squeaked and whimpered, but otherwise endured the re-bandaging with commendable stoicism. Sunset applied another poultice, making a mental note to make more, and somehow managed to keep the stew from burning at the same time.
“Do please tell me that you’ll try listening to me in future,” Sunset admonished, communicating her full disapproval with a single raised eyebrow.
Sonata nodded sheepishly, not able to meet her eye.
“I was trying to be helpful,” she said a little plaintively.
“Trying to alleviate your boredom,” Sunset corrected, helping her sit up before handing her a bowl of stew. “You’ll never recover your strength if you keep opening your wound, and you’ll increase your chances of sickness. You have to be aware during this season especially. If you die in my house, I swear I’ll follow you into the afterlife and give you an earful about it.”
Sonata smiled and gave a small chuckle. She tried some of the stew which, whilst good, was rather thin of solid components. She waited for Sunset to carry on chiding her, but when Sunset merely sat down and ate some thin stew as well, Sonata spoke up.
“Aren’t you going to say I shouldn’t let my boredom get the better of me?”
“I have already advised you not to let your curiosity lead you astray,” Sunset answered, holding her own bowl away from her mouth. “I don’t waste my time telling people what they already know. I would just like to say, however, that when your actions inconvenience yourself, you’re at perfect liberty to do as you please. When they affect others, I ask that you show some restraint.”
Sonata glanced down at her new bandage, and felt a fresh wave of guilt rush over her.
“I suppose you’re still bored,” Sunset said knowingly.
“Once I finish this,” Sonata confirmed, gulping down the last of the stew.
“How about a story?”
“You tell stories?” Sonata asked, brightening so much that Sunset leaned back a little. “Just like a real sage!”
“I’m not a sage!” Sunset said through her teeth. “But it was our disagreement over the term that reminded me of this tale.”
“I don’t think that either of us were wrong,” Sonata provided. “We just come from different places with different ideas about it.”
“Indeed. And whilst we’re able to overcome such differences, those in this story did not.”
Sonata sat up a little straighter, gifting Sunset with her full attention. Something she only did once or twice a year. Sunset cleared her throat.
“This is a cautionary tale from my homeland.”
Far to the north, many moons ago, there dwelt two tribes. Once, they had been one tribe, working together to preserve the balance of their lands, for the members of their people were endowed with powerful gifts: The sight of light, and the sight of darkness.
One day, a stranger appeared in the village. This stranger too possessed the gift of dark sight, and inadvertently threw the land into chaos. Storms struck the land, destroying the tribe’s crops and livestock, and damaging many of their dwellings and sacred places. Eventually, together, the tribe calmed the storm, and sent the stranger away.
But the terrible event forever created a rift between the seers of light and darkness. Those with the sight of light saw that it had been an overabundance of the darkness that had brought the storm, and so to avoid ever being troubled by such disaster again, left to form a village of their own.
Those with sight of darkness, always fewer than those of the light, were powerless to stop them leaving. But whereas the followers of light were peaceful and compassionate, the followers of the dark were ruthless and natural warriors. They suffered alone in the old village, with the storms and worse returning as time passed, turning them bitter. They began to identify all of their problems with those of the light leaving, and they plotted revenge.
The seers of light had forged a new village, and it was prosperous and peaceful. Many other tribes gathered about them, and those of the light shared their bounty. But then, those of the darkness came upon them in vengeance, and there was much destruction and death. Furious at what they considered betrayal, those of the darkness could not be placated, and only when those of the light finally fought back were they eventually driven away.
Now that they had chosen to fight, those of the darkness could not defeat those of the light, and those of the light had no desire to attack those of the darkness whilst they posed no threat. Eventually, those of the darkness returned, having forced other tribes to join them, and made war upon those of the light.
Thus their struggle continued, with both sides at one time or another being nearly defeated, but always striking back so that neither side gained an advantage over the other.
One day however, those of the darkness had been struck with unusual fortune, and were in a position to claim victory. It was at this point that several of their number stopped fighting the light, and turned upon each other. Those of the darkness thrived upon battle and blood, and sought glory in victory, for that is the way of the darkness. But the most glory went to their leader, and so those of the darkness began to fight amongst themselves for supremacy.
Those of the light perceived with their gift, the fracture within the darkness, and led a massive charge of their forces against their enemies. Finally, after countless generations, those of the darkness were vanquished. Those they had enslaved to their war effort were released, and the land returned to its state of harmony and peace.
However, those with the sight of light had been changed by the long war. Their gift was as strong as ever, but it had changed, and so had they.
One day, a child of their tribe was born with the sight of darkness.
Today, both villages stand abandoned. Broken and lost, forever avoided by their neighbours, and whispered only as tales for children, and the wise who can learn from the mistakes of both sides.
Sunset was surprised, once she had finished, to see what she interpreted as a look of contemplation on Sonata’s face. She’d really only meant the story to entertain.
“You don’t know any happy stories?” Sonata asked eventually.
Sunset felt herself blushing a little. “I didn’t hear many frivolous stories growing up. All of the ones I was told were supposed to convey a meaning, or a lesson of sorts.”
“I guess all stories do that to some degree,” Sonata said. She smiled wryly. “Got any stories about not climbing trees with injured shoulders?”
Sunset couldn’t help grinning a little. “As a matter of fact, I learned that one quite recently: The tale of the blue monkey of selective hearing.”
Sonata retaliated to this wit by throwing her finished bowl at the story-teller. It hit the wall with a wooden klunk, and skittered off across the floor.
“So, what was the point of that story, anyway?”
Sunset eyebrows arched. She felt a little disappointed.
“Well, obviously, that good must always separate itself from evil. When those of the light interacted with those of the darkness, it caused disaster. And when those of the light adopted the ways of darkness in order to combat them, they slowly became that which they sought to destroy.”
Sunset felt a trickle of unease. Sonata was giving her a most uncharacteristically shrewd look, with her deep magenta eyes slightly narrowed, and boring into her own. Uncertain of what to do, she could only sit there, speared upon the gaze, waiting for Sonata to vocalise what she was thinking.
“Is that why you’re here?” she said finally.
“Is what why I’m here?”
“To escape darkness. Or whatever.”
Sunset’s expression soured a little. “I suppose so. The followers of light initially left their village to seek peace from the chaos of the darkness. In a way, I suppose you could say I’m doing the same.”
“Well, then,” Sonata said, as though tussling with some unwieldy concept. “Why did you leave? You’re smarter than that.”
Sunset blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well in the story, it was only because the light people left that the darkness people tried to hurt them. You said before that the two of them lived together fine before the stranger appeared and messed everything up.”
“Well, yes,” Sunset conceded. “But the meaning there was that the balance they had was unstable. It only took a little bit of darkness to turn the land to discord.”
“You think so?” Sonata asked, not sounding convinced.
Sunset felt a spark of intrigue. She leaned back against the wall, folding her arms. “Well, what do you think it’s supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Sonata chuntered, seeming embarrassed to suddenly have expectation cast upon her. Sunset prompted her, and finally she said “I kind of thought that it meant that the two should have kept trying to live together. They sent the stranger away and solved the storm problem together. It was only because the light people got scared and left that anything bad happened after that.”
“But the possibility was still there that other strangers might appear and cause problems again,” Sunset countered. “Those of the light understood that they had to separate themselves so as to truly find the peace they naturally sought after.”
Sonata shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s what the story is supposed to mean, but I think they were just running away from their problems.”
“Can you blame them?” Sunset asked, shrugging. “Who wants to live every day with the possibility of natural disasters destroying their homes and food supplies?”
“But didn’t they leave, knowing that without them there, the storms would come back and hurt the darkness people?” Sonata pointed out. “And look at what happened in the end. In the end, they couldn’t escape the darkness. One way or another.”
Sunset frowned, remaining silent for a few moments and staring at the floor. She hadn’t expected the discussion to go this way at all.
“So, what do you think they should have done?”
“Stayed together,” Sonata said, shuffling uncomfortably, as if she thought the answer held some kind of consequence to herself.
“But what about the storms?” Sunset asked seriously. “That was the entire point of them leaving in the first place. What do you think they should have done about them?”
Sonata looked away, fixing her eyes on a succession of objects, as though searching for the right answer amongst Sunset’s possessions.
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I know they caused a lot of damage, and stuff. But that’s what storms do. And no matter where you go, there’s always going to be storms.”
Sunset was surprised that she felt surprise. She hadn’t felt real, out-of-the-blue uncertainty in quite some time. She followed the train of thought where she thought it was leading.
“So, you think that the storms should have simply been weathered, in order to maintain balance?”
“I guess,” Sonata said, leaning her head one way and then another. “I mean, if the story is supposed to be an analoguemy, then the storms just mean bad things that happen to you. And you can’t stop that. You just have to, you know—“ She paused, rubbing her bandage a little as though to ease stiffness. “You just have to get on with it and stuff.”
“Analogy,” Sunset corrected, but said no more.
In all honesty, she was rather impressed by this view, even if she didn’t agree with it. She hadn’t anticipated Sonata providing such an insightful analysis of the story. Seeing that Sonata was watching her furtively, she smiled.
“I have to admit, you’re more intelligent than I’d usually lend to someone who seems to lack forethought as you do.”
Sonata smiled herself at this humorous little barb, and swung her legs off her cot. “Just because I don’t always think before doing stuff doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” she declared with a smirk. “I usually watch where I’m go—INGOOF!”
With a wooden scraping sound and heavy impact, like a bag of flour hitting cement, Sonata tripped on her thrown food bowl, and landed squarely on her back.
“OW! Ow-ow-ow-ow!” she howled. “My shoulder!”
Sunset sighed.
Author's Note
Don't worry, that's the last time I'm using the hurt-shoulder gag. I wouldn't use it at all here, but it's important later in the story.
Seated in the Moonlight
Sonata disliked the rain. She never used to, as her culture placed a great importance upon its coming. But ever since she’d been living with Sunset, she’d come to associate it with her injury. She sat or lay on her cot, feeling weak and woozy, whilst the monumental downpour outside crashed onto the softening ground. During these times, she’d often see Sunset seated at the small stone altar, silently praying, or whatever it was she did. Sonata would often sit for minutes at a time, simply wondering what it was Sunset did or hoped to achieve, sitting in front of the little figures and twins points of light that were the tiny flames either side of the altar.
Sonata didn’t know if it was just in her mind, but she began to feel her scars hurting her whenever it threatened rain, but felt nothing when the burning sunlight returned. Within just a few weeks, her injury had faded to a pinkish scar, blemishing her pale, dusky-blue skin, but she paid it no mind at all. Her strength grew steadily, and to Sunset’s consternation, rediscovered a love for energetic exercise.
“If your shoulder hurts you again,” Sunset called, “I formally refuse to help you.”
Sonata ignored her, holding onto the tree-branch she dangled from and trying to gauge the distance.
“Don’t you dare jump into that water,” Sunset warned. “That’s our drinking—“
SPLASH!
“Why do you not listen to me?” Sunset sighed exasperatedly.
“Sorry,” Sonata said, ringing out her long azure hair. “I used to love doing that back home.”
As they both walked back with jars full of water, Sunset spoke. “Jumping into the village’s water supply?”
“No,” Sonata giggled, shoving Sunset playfully. “Into the lake. My sisters and I did it all the time.”
Sunset frowned. “There’re no lakes around here.”
“There is back home,” Sonata said wistfully. “It’s not that big, but it’s deep. My sisters used to tell all the other children there were lake monsters. Then once they had the idea of getting this big clump of weed and crawling out of the lake to scare everyone.”
Sunset smiled as Sonata beamed at the memory. “Your sisters sound like a fun lot.”
“Some people thought they went too far sometimes,” Sonata conceded. “But it was all in good fun really. Made the village elder really mad once and he threatened to have us banished.”
Sonata erupted into laughter, trying in vain to continue the story, but Sunset didn’t manage to get anything more intelligible between the snorts and guffawing.
“You must miss your sisters a lot,” Sunset said companionably. “I dare say it’ll be a relief to see them again.”
Sonata suddenly stopped walking. When Sunset paused to look back, the other continued, and seemed to make an effort to appear as though nothing had happened.
“I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again,” she said in a far more sober voice. “I can’t go back to my village.”
“Do you not know the way back?” Sunset asked. “When you said that there was a lake near to your home, I imagined it must be far away.”
“It’s not that,” Sonata said, her gaze on the moist earth beneath their feet. She did not elaborate, and Sunset did not ask more.
As often happened, Sonata found herself simply exploring the surrounding landscape of Sunset’s home, for lack of anything better to do. On this particular day, she chanced upon a structure that, like Sunset’s home, was built into a natural formation. In this case, between several thick-trunked, very dead trees. The clay had been painted with some sort of greyish daub, giving it the same colour and hue as the dead wood it was affixed to. On one side of it however, was a sort of tarp that swung to one side to reveal a storage space. Several pots and tools lay stacked neatly on the sides of the interior space, along with a sack or two full of dried foods.
Sonata was surprised by this discovery, and wondered if she could discover any other structures Sunset had forged.
It took her almost an hour, but eventually, she found the mythical garden that she’d been unable to find before. To her personal shame, she discovered it not too far behind the two-stones, situated in a rough square lined in on side by a row of trees, and a half-buried rock perpendicular to it. Here, she also found Sunset.
“So this is where it is,” Sonata said, feeling rather proud of herself.
Sunset looked up. “Yes. Been doing anything useful?”
“To my way of thinking, yes,” Sonata said, determinately not meeting Sunset’s eye.
“I see that your stamina is stronger in returning. That’s good. I was just thinking that I should pack you some food for your journey.”
Sonata hesitated. “Oh. Right,” she said eventually. “Thanks, yeah.”
“Did you see any dried fruit in the storage shed?” Sunset asked.
Sonata jumped a little. “How did you know I went in there?”
“I saw you,” Sunset replied, as though this should be obvious.
“Mm,” Sonata hmphed.
Sonata found herself feeling discomforted by the short conversation. She’d not given it a great deal of thought over the previous month or so, but was suddenly faced with the realisation that she was – in all reality – intruding upon Sunset’s hospitality. She was a visitor, taken in by Sunset’s good will and generous nature. But it was inherently temporary, tied directly to how long it took her to heal.
When all came down to it though, Sonata found that she really didn’t want to leave. Serious and quiet as she was, she found that she liked being around Sunset. She found that she liked being in the little two-stone house. She liked the way things were. And what was more, she had nowhere else to go. Certainly not back to her old village, and her old name...
But she couldn’t just ask Sunset if she could stay. How rude, how assuming that would be, to take advantage of her in that way, especially when it was clear that Sunset had come out to live in this lonely and secluded place specifically to be alone. She couldn’t ruin that for her; Sonata had no right to. She couldn’t possibly ask...
All the rest of the day, she moved deliberately out of Sunset’s way as the golden-skinned hermit made her way around the territory. Sometimes, Sonata would watch what she was doing from hidden places, trying to figure out what her benefactor was doing. It didn’t make for happy viewing.
At one point she observed Sunset putting together what was evidently a water-bottle made from cloth and a hollowed out hard vegetable. At another time, she saw Sunset using a large stick to make some kind of pattern in the ground some twenty feet away from the house. As she did so, she frequently looked up into the sky. Perhaps Sonata was simply being paranoid, but she rather thought Sunset was on the lookout for more rainclouds, maybe so that she could be sure she was sending Sonata off in clement weather conditions.
All-in-all, it was with a leaden weight in her stomach that Sonata sat down to dinner with Sunset. She found herself paying closer attention to the taste of the food, and considering that she hadn’t really appreciated just how good the cooking was until that moment.
“How did you make the bread?” she asked.
“With the kiln,” Sunset said, jabbing a thumb through the left-facing wall.
“You have a kiln?”
“It’s nestled a little into the stones, but yes.” She watched Sonata for a few moments, and then exhaled. “I’m probably going to regret this, but you’ve been oddly quiet all day. Is there something wrong?”
“No,” Sonata said quickly. “Just... I know you don’t like too many questions.”
Sunset’s lip curled a little. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like your conversation. Anyway, I hope you saved room for dessert.”
“We have dessert?” Sonata asked, perking up a little.
“Just some dried fruit. I find they taste better with this oil I have. I thought perhaps we should celebrate your relative return to full health.”
Sonata tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she quite managed it. Sunset didn’t seem to notice, and stood up.
“Come on, I want to show you something.”
Leading Sonata outside, Sunset made her way to the markings she’d made earlier. Sonata wondered how she could see it in the dark of night, but noticed that the entire ground was illuminated with a faint, silvery light, showing the magical-looking markings perfectly.
“Excellent,” Sunset said in a gratified voice, staring up. “Not a cloud anywhere. Come on.”
“W-Where?” Sonata asked, as Sunset marched passed her. “Wait, what are these markings?”
“You’ll see. Just follow me. I wanted you to see this before you left.”
Sonata followed, unwilling to say anything lest she let slip what she was truly feeling. Sunset led her to the one side of the two-stones, where Sonata was mildly surprised to find the kiln Sunset had previously mentioned. Much like the storage shed, it had been crudely painted to blend in with the orangey stone at the back of the monolithic rock. Picking up a string-bag, Sunset began to climb the leaning face of the enormous stone, up what Sonata saw upon closer examination, was a natural formation of indentations.
“It’s just up here. Can you manage?” Sunset asked over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Sonata replied, trying to smile.
Far from wondering what it was Sunset wanted to show her, Sonata couldn’t help dwelling on the morning, when she would surely be expected to leave. So intent on this was she that, upon reaching the top, she didn’t immediately register that Sunset had sat herself down, and was regarding Sonata with her usual unfathomable stare.
Catching her eye, Sonata immediately sat down.
“I didn’t know you could get up here,” she said, running a hand over the weathered surface of the rock. They were seated at the upper-most point of the fallen stone, its twin looming behind them like some dark parody of a sunrise.
“I only infrequently come up here,” Sunset explained. “But when I do, it’s mainly for the view. And to escape the lions.”
Sonata looked up absently, wondering vaguely wheat she meant. And then froze, her eyes widening.
Having gotten used to the landscape as a dry, dusty yellow and orange flatland, dotted once in a while with vegetation and the furtive movements of small animals, Sonata had never imagined the land could be anything else. But it was now.
Across the empty vista the sandy golds and harsh whites of the intense sun had been replaced by lapis blue and a shimmering silver. The full moon looked like an opal in the midst of a vast, cosmic sapphire. The vast expanse of the plain in its stark difference from its daytime self reminded Sonata of a time in her childhood.
“It’s like that rock,” she breathed.
“I’m sorry?” Sunset asked politely. “That sounded as though it should have been profound. I fear it didn’t come off that way.”
Sonata blushed.
“When I was a girl, some of the children in my village and I went to this cave we knew on the other side of the lake. We explored there a lot, but this one time there was a cave-in, and a friend and me got stuck on the other side. I was knocked out in the falling, and when I woke up, there was this stone right in front of me, broken and glittering in the little bit of sunlight shining through the rocks.” She gazed out over the landscape. “The elders called it a geode. It was the same colour as all of this,” she said, holding a hand up to the moon. “The middle was white and silvery, and the bit around it was inky blue, while the outer bits were dark blue with little black bits. Like those trees,” she went on, pointing.
“I’m glad you survived the cave-in,” Sunset said solemnly, but then smiling a little knowingly. “You seem to have a knack for injuring yourself.”
Sonata gave a nervous little laugh. “Yeah, well. My friend was more hurt than I was. He hurt his head, but his parents came quickly and helped us, so I think he was okay.” She sighed deeply. “But I thought about that rock for a long time. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before.”
“Didn’t you keep it?” Sunset asked.
Sonata shook her head. “The elders traded it a few months later for some carpets. All precious things in our village were kept in the meeting hall so no one could steal them. We were only permitted to keep one thing for ourselves that was precious in that way.”
Sonata half expected Sunset to inquire what that thing was, but if the other wondered about it, she didn’t voice it.
“I’m glad I could show this to you,” Sunset said. “It doesn’t happen too often in the rainy season, since there’re usually clouds. I thought that it’d cheer you out of your bad mood.” She smiled at Sonata’s abashed expression. “You know, if you really want to stay, I could always make you a bed.”
Sonata thought for one mad second that her heart was going to turn inside out.
“I can stay!? You really mean it!?”
“With the proviso that you not topple us both off of this rock, yes,” Sunset said, pushing a finger hard against Sonata’s forehead as the latter attempted to throw herself onto her. “And, just so long as I don’t end up regretting the decision. Now eat some dried fruit, and lets enjoy the vi—”
“You won’t, I promise!” Sonata cried, squealing a little as she pushed the finger out of the way and pulled Sunset into a very one-sided hug. “This is so great! We can go swimming, run across the plains, and catch those little mouse things I keep seeing, every day!”
“No, we’re not doing that,” Sunset said flatly.
“Aww, come on, it’ll be fun,” Sonata assured her, squeezing her tighter.
“Ahh, regret, my old friend,” Sunset groaned. “How have you been?”
Sonata giggled, and then stopped, frowning.
“Wait, lions ?”
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The Unaccountable Tale of the Probably Fake Tattoos
The Unaccountable Tale of the Probably Fake Tattoos. Possibly Fake. Maybe.
Even several days after the fact, Sonata’s buoyed spirits still hadn’t abated. Sunset was happy to take full advantage of this.
“I’ve grown quite accustomed to you doing half of the chores,” Sunset remarked as Sonata kneaded the bread dough.
“Is that why you really wanted me to stay?” Sonata demanded indignantly.
Sunset made no response, but simply smiled mysteriously as she continued the enigmatic work of creating her incense sticks.
Sonata wasn’t fooled, however. They were friends now as far as she was concerned, and so in her mind that was the reason. What else can you by after lying weak and injured in someone’s bed for a month and asking them all kinds of personal questions without getting any significant answers whatsoever?
That’s the best kind of friends! Sonata told herself spiritedly. No two friends ever had a friendship like ours. A friendship built on care. On trust. On not knowing… a single thing about one another...
This thought troubled Sonata a little, although not so that anyone would notice. Outwardly she was as exuberant and cheerful as ever, except when the chores needed doing. There certainly seemed to be a lot of them now that she was fully healed.
“There has to be something I know about her,” Sonata wondered aloud, sitting in the most stable branch of the tree she’d previously fallen out of trying to find Sunset’s garden. Affectionately dubbing it the Ouch-tree, Sonata found the wide branch she was seated on fairly comfortable and easy on the hindquarters. She contemplated Sunset’s territory for a while in silence. “Or something I can find out.”
She considered a long while, absently scraping at the bark of the tree with a twig. It made no real indentation, but left a whitish marking on the smooth bark. Within minutes she’d managed to inscribe a fair likeness of Sunset, although she was perpetually dissatisfied with the braids. She was just starting to fill in the tattoos a little, when—
“Did you sweep the house out yet?”
Sonata nearly fell backwards out of the tree, but managed to cling on and spot Sunset standing below, who was holding armfuls of fresh-picked herbs. “Hearthmaiden’s tits!” Sonata exhaled. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!
Sunset made no reply to this, but simply glared shrewdly up at Sonata, who realised that Sunset was waiting for and answer.
“Oh, erm,” she said quickly. “I think so.”
“My feet beg to differ,” Sunset said severely. “In your own time, though.”
Sonata had the grace to look abashed, and prepared to get down from the tree. Then she halted. She watched Sunset walking away, and then looked at the Sunset she’d inscribed upon the tree. A smile crept onto her face as an idea occurred to her. A curiosity-fuelled, quite potentially naughty idea.
Did she dare go through with what had occurred to her? There could be only one answer to that.
Sonata waited until night had truly fallen, when the light of the gibbous moon was directly overhead. Or near as makes no odds. The bed Sonata lay quietly in had been made the day after Sunset had invited her to stay permanently. Specifically, it had appeared the morning after. At the crack of dawn. Quite how Sunset had managed to build it quite so quickly Sonata did not know, but she suspected it had something to do with Sunset’s sage-y wisdom. Somehow.
Sonata lay wide awake, pretending to sleep whilst periodically opening one eye to glance in Sunset’s direction. Stemming from being one sister amongst three who frequently liked to break the rules by stepping out at night, Sonata had long since mastered the art of stealthily moving around in the dark. And concurrently the art of eating crunchy food near silently, although that particular skill was not currently useful.
She considered Sunset for a while. The other was certainly breathing long and low, and seemed relaxed enough to be asleep. But Sonata had to be sure.
“Sunset?” she said quietly.
No reaction.
“Sunset? Are you awake?”
Still nothing.
Sonata swung herself quietly off her bed, and carefully set her feet to the still dusty floor. With light tread, she stepped nimbly across the room, but then halted when she reached the herbs hanging from the ceiling as her hair brushed them and she felt a sprinkling of herby stuff sprinkle down in front of her nose. Remembering a trick she’d learned at the last second, she turned her upper lip to her nose, and instantly felt the sneeze recede.
She gave a small sigh of relief, and refocusing on the task, weaved with a lithe grace around the cooking pots, and arrived at the edge of Sunset’s bed. Gazing down at Sunset’s sleeping body, she wondered even now if she dared to do this.
I have to, she told herself. This might be about the only thing I know that she doesn’t want me to know. And the only thing I won’t feel guilty about knowing about, she added. About-about.
It was true that she didn’t want to pry into Sunset’s affairs; Sunset deserved the privacy that she’d sought by choosing to live her secluded lifestyle, and Sonata wasn’t going to ruin that for her. Nevertheless, she thought that she had to know something about her living-partner, no matter how minute. This seemed the only fairly neutral thing.
Sunset’s tattoos.
Sonata remembered opening her eyes for the first time in Sunset’s house, and looking up to see the odd marking around her eyes and mouth. She had wondered then whether it was face-paint or not, and in those times when she’d been lying bored out of her mind as her shoulder mended, she’d sometimes pondered the likelihood of their permanence.
The arguments in favour of it were these:
Firstly, Sonata had never seen Sunset without the markings. Even after bathing, Sunset always had the markings, and as best as Sonata could tell, they were always the same.
Secondly, Sonata knew that there were villages where tattoos were an integral part of their customs, quite often in reaching maturity or marking some kind of achievement. Perhaps even a symbol of marriage. The thought of Sunset being married was a faintly disturbing one to Sonata, for some reason. She seemed so young, and such a... such a loner.
Thirdly, it seemed implausible that Sunset would take the time to adorn herself as frequently as she would need to in order to keep the markings on herself all of the time.
On the other hand, though...
The problem with the idea of them all being tattoos was that the one’s on her face, arms, and legs, looked different to the ones on her chest. Substantively different, it seemed to Sonata’s eyes, which had a particular sharpness for aesthetic detail. Except when it came to dusty floors.
Sonata gazed down at each tattoo in turn. Taken together, the ones on her face seemed to form some kind of single runic symbol. A line running down from each eye, with a parallel line on either cheek. A V-shaped line on her chin, and a sort of wavy half-flame or wisp of smoke on her forehead. The ones on her arms and legs were arranged into continuous lines on each limb, creating something that might have been feathers, or perhaps flames. It was difficult to tell.
In contrast, the image running over her breasts and sternum was more intricate. At its centre was a pale yellow disc, whilst erupting from below this in blackish-red was a stylised pattern encircling the disc. The longer Sonata stared at it, the more she thought it looked like a pair of wings reaching up around the circle, almost touching at their tips.
There was, of course, only one way to know whether these were tattoos or not, and Sonata’s mind was afire with the possibilities. She had to try to remove one of the markings.
But which one? And how?
The chest was out of the question. Sonata had no doubt that Sunset would feel it if Sonata started trying to wipe away or scratch something from her chest. The same went for her face. That left the arms and legs.
Sonata took a moment to wryly thank the gods that Sunset didn’t have any markings in more discreet areas, or else waking Sunset up might be the least of her concerns.
Clearing her throat as quietly as possible, she looked between the limbs.
Sonata pondered as to where on her own body she’d be least likely to feel someone touching her unawares. After a few moments of thought, she decided that the lower leg was the best spot to try. Shuffling quietly down the bed a little, she lowered herself to get a better look at the pattern.
It was no good; in the darkness, she couldn’t see if it was painted on or not. She couldn’t risk creating more light to see by, for fear of waking the subject. There was no choice. Gathering a liberal amount of saliva on her tongue, she licked her thumb, leaving it glistening in the faded moonlight. Careful as a farmer trying to milk an agitated cow, she lowered the thumb down, and gingerly rubbed at the mark.
She let out a held-in breath when Sunset did not awaken. To her consternation however, the result was inconclusive. The problem was that the mark felt odd, but it wasn’t coming off when she tried to wipe it clean. She frowned, inspecting her thumb. No residue.
She rubbed her chin, wondering how to proceed. She didn’t want to scratch the same area in case the increased activity in the same area disturbed Sunset enough to wake her. She moved back up the body, and considered the problem.
The arms, legs, and face all looked to be of the same composition, but the chest-area ones looked different. Sonata narrowed her eyes, trying to think what to do. Glancing frequently into Sunset’s sleeping face, she came to a decision. She would simply try to ascertain if the image on her chest had the same feel as the marks on Sunset’s leg, and see if that gave any clue as to how to go on from there.
Sonata regarded Sunset’s bosoms with a grim contemplation. It was a risky business, but she was determined to find out this one, small detail about Sunset. Damn the consequences!
Or, at least, apologise for them later, she thought furtively. Look on the bright side; if I was still in the village, and a man, I could be put to death for this.
She raised her arm in a gentle arc, her eyes focused hard on Sunset’s sleeping face, her ears trained on the long, slow, slightly raspy breathing as Sunset’s chest rose up and down. One finger extended, she lowered it down to the middle of Sunset’s sternum, dead centre of the pale yellow disc. Pausing for just a moment, she waited for Sunset’s chest to depress, and then ran the finger in a light wavy motion downwards.
“Definitely different,” Sonata surmised, retracting her finger with lightning speed. But that didn’t necessarily mean one was a tattoo and the other not. Possibly the ones on her leg were newer, and the skin was still irritated from the treatment. Sonata blinked. “Could she have tattooed herself?” she muttered.
This was no good. She was getting more questions than answers. It was all supposed to be so simple. Just a quick test and back off to bed; no one would be any the wiser. What was she supposed to do now?
She looked at the wing-like pattern on Sunset’s arm. Feeling as though her options were running out, she set one finger nail to the mark, and gave it a subtle scratch. Like the leg, the mark here felt raised slightly, and a little rougher than skin strictly should, but not enough to be paint. Yet again, nothing came away.
This was infuriating. One thing; that was all she asked. One thing she could know about Sunset, and it was being so irritatingly difficult to understand. She stood up, trying to think. In doing so, she placed a hand on Sunset’s bed to push herself up, and caught one of Sunset’s braids under her palm.
Sunset’s head moved, pulled to the side by the slight tug on her braid.
Sonata froze, the colour draining from her face. What should she say? What could she say? Should she hide? Pretend to be asleep? Pretend to sleep walk?
Whilst all of these thoughts raced through her panicked mind, Sunset drew in a deep breath... and then calmly exhaled. She was clearly still asleep.
Sonata remained perfectly still for a full six seconds more. Then as slowly, and gently as she could, she let go of Sunset’s braid.
Then, the residue of herbal pollen slid down from atop Sonata’s smooth, straight hair, and directly into her face. She let out a violent sneeze.
Sunset snorted, and then jolted upright. Straight into Sonata’s nose.
“And you didn’t think to just ask me about them?” Sunset inquired, as soon as Sonata had finished explaining her side of the story.
“Doh,” Sonata said thickly. “You dhon anther muh questhuns abouth you.”
Sunset made a considering sort of sound. “I suppose that is true. So you decided to get up in the night and see if my tattoos came off,” she snickered, shaking her head a little.
Sonata frowned and blushed, although she hoped that the blood around her nose would mask the blood in her cheeks. She flinched a little as Sunset dabbed at her purplish, ballooned nose.
“Ith not tha funneh,” Sonata slurred under her breath. “Ath leasth you’re not mad ath meh.”
“Perhaps I have been a little overly secretive,” Sunset conceded. “Especially since you’re now living with me. I suppose I could tell you about my tattoos.”
Sonata perked up. “Yeah?”
Sunset indicated her chest. “This one is the only real tattoo I have,” she said. “The others are temporary.”
“Buh dey don’ come off,” Sonata protested.
“They aren’t supposed to,” Sunset explained patiently. “They’re made using a special kind of dye that stains my skin for a few weeks. They fade eventually.”
“Buh... why?” Sonata asked.
“A few reasons,” Sunset shrugged. “The first being that I don’t know how, nor do I have the equipment, to actually tattoo myself.”
“Oh,” Sonata said flatly. “I gueth dat makes senth. Tho wath are dey for?”
“I’d rather not say,” Sunset replied.
“An’ back tho de thecrets,” Sonata sighed.
Sunset smiled. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to that. Perhaps you could try keeping some secrets of your own to make it an even playing field.”
Sonata said nothing to this, but as Sunset continued to dab the blood from her face, she hoped that Sunset couldn’t see her reflexively biting her lip, or the slightly shifty look that briefly came into her eyes.
The Witch of Two-Stone
“Stop looking at me like that,”
“Like what?”
“I know that look. Whatever it is, just ask.”
Sonata blinked at Sunset, beginning to feel the blood leaving her legs.
“Heh, you look extra-grumpy upside down,” Sonata giggled, angling one hand to detach Sunset’s head from the rest of her body. “Now you’re a grumpy floating head.”
“If I catch you doing another of your little investigations,” Sunset warned. “I’ll make you sweep the floor with a single blade of grass.”
Sonata lowered her legs from the wall and turned on the bed so that she was the right way up, giving Sunset a mardy look out the corner of her eye.
“Fine,” she grunted. “But answer it honestly, okay?”
“As honestly as I am able or willing to,” Sunset replied gravely.
“See, you do that every time,” Sonata complained. “And you wonder why I stopped asking you questions.”
Sunset looked at her, and then turned around from her position on the floor where she had been fixing the base of the tripod on which the cooking pot rested.
“Very well. What question do you have? If it isn’t too personal, I will make an effort to answer it as fully as I can.”
Sonata sat, putting on uncharacteristically grave and serious looks. “Okay. My question is this.” She looked into Sunset’s deep aqua stare, and Sunset gazed right back, a faint look of expectancy marring the usually impassive features of her face.
“Can you do magic?”
There was a silence. After a few moments, Sunset’s slight frown deepened into a look of mild bewilderment.
“Come again?”
“Magic,” Sonata said. “You know...” She mimed making sparks shoot out of her hands, and then conjuring something from the ground. “Magic,” she concluded.
“That’s seriously your question?”
“Yes.”
Sunset looked faintly disappointed. “I don’t believe in magic,” she said succinctly, and turned back to the cooking pot.
“That’s not answering my question,” Sonata pointed out, pouting a little.
“I don’t believe in magic, and thus I do not use it. I have therefore answered your question.” She looked up again. “I am a little curious though. Why would you think that I do magic?”
“Because you’re weird,” Sonata shrugged.
“Many a supernatural occurrence explained in a three-word sentence,” Sunset commented wryly. “Well done.”
“Are you sure we’re not just getting our terms mixed up again?” Sonata asked.
Sunset considered this. “A valid concern. Go on then. What is magic to you?”
“Making stuff happen without touching them,” Sonata said after a moment or two of deep thought. “Making things appear out of thin air. Being able to know stuff even though you weren’t there to see it. Living in weird placed like, say, under Two-stone rock.”
“Two-stone rock?” Sunset repeated, smiling slightly. “And you think any of that applies to me?” Sunset asked. “Other than that last one, which I think you’ll agree is a bit of a contrivance. If I could make things move without touching them, I’d get you to actually sweep the floor.”
“Ha ha,” Sonata laughed monotonously. “Joke all you want, some of those things still apply to you. Like how you seem to know where I am all the time.”
“You’re bright blue in a mostly orange landscape,” Sunset pointed out. “You’re not difficult to spot.”
“And you somehow manage to make things in super fast amounts of time. Almost,” she said with emphasis, “as though you poof them out of the air.”
“Such as what?” Sunset asked, frowning.
“Such as this bed,” Sonata said, exasperated. “You had it ready at sunrise. Like, literally sunrise. That was barely a few hours.”
“I’d already made the frame,” Sunset explained. “All I did was add some finishing touches.” Sonata’s mouth scrunched in response to this. Sunset gave her a probing look. “Is all of this something to do with that silly sage theory you keep proposing?”
“See, there you go again,” Sonata said swiftly, pointing an accusing finger. “How could you possibly know that witches are the opposite of sages?”
“I didn’t know—Witch—what...” Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is this suspicion going to go away on its own if I ask you to drop it?”
“Probably not,” Sonata shrugged.
Sunset brought her hands together, her index fingers and thumbs extended and touching at the tips to form a diamond shape. This she dropped her face into, the ends of the diamond touching her forehead and chin. At first Sonata considered whether or not this was some kind of ritualistic warding gesture, perhaps to fend off evil spirits or bad influences. But that couldn’t be; she was the only other person there, and she wasn’t an evil spirit.
After a few moments, Sunset looked up. “What do I have to do,” she began, in a long-suffering voice, “to get you to accept that I don’t utilise magic?”
Sonata seemed to give the question serious consideration. Far more than Sunset would have bothered to on such a ridiculous question.
“Where do you get your medicines from?”
“I make them myself,” Sunset said, frowning. “You’ve seen me do it.”
“Totally a witch,” Sonata concluded, nodding seriously.
“Don’t be so ignorant,” Sunset warned.
“I’m just joking,” Sonata chuckled, grinning. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just watch everything you do until you do something spooky and magic-y.”
Sunset’s lip curled. “Please tell me you’re still joking.”
“Nope,” Sonata said cheerfully. “Im’ma stick to you like tree sap. Only I’m more cuddly.”
“No cuddling.”
To Sunset’s great consternation, she greatly underestimated Sonata’s determination. Sonata was as good as her word, and as Sunset made her way around her usual daily chores and activities, Sonata was never too far behind. To be fair, she was a somewhat helpful nuisance, helping carry water back as usual, and when Sunset lost a box of fresh-made incense-sticks, Sonata was so kind as to hand it to her. None-the-less, it was with an ever heavier brow that Sunset made her way around the invisible territorial line of her home, picking crops and adjusting the weathervane she’d fashioned above the storage shed.
By the time she’d sat down for her daily meditations, she was thoroughly worn out, and her patience even more so. She glared through one aggrieved eye at Sonata, who sat peering at her with polite interest from the other side of the little stone altar.
“Sonata, I’m willing to tolerate your foolish fancies at almost any time of day, but please have the courtesy not to interrupt my meditations.”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Sonata said innocently. “This is the witchy-est thing I see you do.”
Sunset felt a tick go in her cheek. “There is nothing ‘witchy’ about what I do.”
“Sure there is,” Sonata said, leaning over the altar. “Look. You’ve got all these little gods here that you’re praying to for good weather and stuff. And maybe even one or two that can curse people.”
“You believe in curses?” Sunset grumbled, scathingly.
“Sure do. Like, this one time back in my village, there was this woman across the way that offended the witchdoctor, see, and—“
Sunset, her eyes still closed, was struggling to unclench her jaw. She tried to focus on her meditation, chanting one of her concentration-aiding mantras in her mind. Unfortunately the soothing accents of her inner-voice weren’t quite up to the task of blocking out Sonata’s obnoxiously happy chattering.
“So, is this one, like, the god of animals?” Sonata asked, pointing out one of the little idols that seemed to be some kind of dragonish chimera. “Oh, this one is definitely the moon goddess.”
Sunset opened her eyes, and slapped Sonata’s hand away from the figures.
“Ow!” she whined, rubbing the back of her fingers.
“This is a sacred altar. I use it to clear my mind through meditation. I don’t use it for magic, I don’t implore the gods for good weather, and I certainly don’t call down curses on anyone,” Sunset snarled. “Although, I’m starting to think about it.”
Sonata paused, giving Sunset a slightly fearful, yet appraising look. “So, it’s just to help you calm your mind?” Sonata asked.
“Yes!” Sunset growled.
Sonata sat for a moment, with an unusual look on her face. It took Sunset a moment or two to see through her annoyance and exasperation that it somewhat resembled a spark of craft.
“Good to know,” Sonata said, standing.
Sunset blinked. “What?”
“Thanks for telling me. I think I’m going to get something to eat.”
Sunset stared after her, as Sonata skipped happily into the house, humming cheerfully.
Sunset stood up and stopped in the doorway, staring down at the girl in amazement.
“You mean to tell me that all of this witch nonsense was just to get me to tell you something about myself?”
Sonata leaned her head to one side, and then the other. “Pretty much, yeah,” she said slowly.
Sunset stared at her, the cogs in her unusually clever brain working. Sonata wasn’t being entirely truthful, she knew, this wasn’t just some vain exercise to find out more about Sunset. To her surprise, Sunset felt herself impressed, however slightly, at the cleverness of this entire ruse, and realised that that had been the point the entire time. She stared into the magenta eyes, seeing a glimmer of mischievous merriment.
“It’s not like you tell me anything about yourself willingly,” Sonata shrugged.
There was a pause.
“Alright,” Sunset said, calmly. “Good to know.”
As she turned away and sat back down at her altar, she was pleased to hear Sonata’s tentative footsteps near the doorway. Clearing her throat, she took two of the figures on the altar and placed them at the centre. Relighting her incense sticks, she discreetly took hold of one of the little bowls that provided the miniscule lights she used in all of her rituals.
“Oh great and feared Nameless One,” she announced, in a loud, ringing voice. “By your forbidden name, I beseech thee!”
Behind her, she heard the scuffle of light feet reluctantly making their way closer over a dusty floor.
“Discord! ” she cried, dropping the contents of the bowl. A brilliant cloud of smoke erupted from the fallen contents, leaving a slightly aromatic scent on the air. She heard Sonata let out a little gasp of surprise.
“Queen of Nightmares, Guardian of the Night, I beg thy assistance in the punishment of one most worthy!”
“Err...” Sonata said, taking a furtive step out of the doorway.
“By the ancient words of sacrifice, I appeal for you both to spare your wrath from those unworthy, and place it weightily upon the guilty one!”
“What are you doing?” Sonata asked, a distinct tremor to her voice.
Sunset opened one eye. “Cursing you of course. Now be quiet, this part is a bit tricky.”
Sonata let out a squeal. “Whuh! No, wait! Please don’t!”
Sunset brought her hand down on the altar, sending a fresh wave of the sweet-smelling ash flying into the wind.
“No! Stop!” Sonata screamed.
Sunset raised her hands high, expanding her lungs, her face a hard mask of concentration.
“Ohm-mothello metrikarkum,” she began in a deep resounding voice.
“I’m sorry!” Sonata cried, looking as though she wanted to pull Sunset away from the altar but dared not touch her. “Please, I won’t ever do it again. I was just bored, really!”
Sunset paused in the middle of the chanting. “And you’ll sweep the floor?”
Scrabbling upwards, Sonata practically dived into the house. Within moments Sunset could hear the shhht, shhht of bristles against the stone floor, and felt little clouds of dist and grit flying beside her out through the door.
Grinning to herself a little, she wiped the residual ash from the altar, and set the idols back reverently in their proper place. She gave the strange, mismatched figure a knowing half-smile.
“Real curses don’t come from magic,” she said quietly. “We inflict them upon ourselves.”
The Visiting Leader
“So, how much of the land around her do you know about?”
“I should hope that I am familiar with it all. I have spent many hours and days traversing the surrounding plains and wilderness.”
Sonata looked around from beneath the trees, trying to find some particular part of the landscape to question her on.
“What about that bunch of trees?” she asked, pointing.
Sunset took her eyes away from the horizon, where purples and oranges of the sparse clouds fought for supremacy amongst the sun’s descending red glow. She gave the trees in question a cursory glance.
“I have been there,” Sunset said simply.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What’s there?”
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me what kind of trees they are?”
Sonata shook her head. “I was just wondering if you had any, like, adventures there, or something.”
Sunset took a moment to consider this. “Not under those trees, no,” she said. “If you’re asking for something strange or interesting that I’ve experienced, then might I direct your attention to that hill there.”
Sonata peered out across the watering hole, towards a small, somewhat grassy hillock far in the distance. The only reason Sonata was able to make it out was because of the shadow it cast in the late-day sun, along the otherwise flat-ish ground around it, and the two white-wood trees either side of it like sentinels.
“Neat. A hill,” Sonata said, trying to sound interested. She looked discreetly around at the several utterly similar looking bumps in the plains all around. “Did something weird happen there?”
“I suppose so,” Sunset said, taking a sip of water. “I believe that the mound is over a natural water deposit, since the grass there almost never goes dry, and those two trees do well every year.”
Sonata’s spirits sank a little. “Natural water deposit, huh?” she said, forcing a smile. “That is useful to know, I guess.”
“You should learn patience,” Sunset chided, giving Sonata a poke on the nose. “I haven’t told you all, yet.”
Smiling a bit more naturally, Sonata turned to give Sunset a slightly mocking look of complete and avid attention. “I’m all ears,” she said sweetly.
Looking out towards the hill again, Sunset said, very seriously. “I do not know for sure, but I believe that hill to be a burial mound.”
Sonata’s contrived look of interest solidified into a genuine look of shock and wonder.
“Why do you think that?” she asked, looking out at the hill too.
“A person visiting there told me so,”
Sonata’s eyes widened, honestly dumbstruck by this unexpected piece of information.
“What? Is there a village nearby or something?” she asked, glancing quickly around as though she might suddenly notice smoke, hear distant voices, or some other sign of nearby civilisation.
“No,” Sunset assured her. “The nearest village of any sort is several days travel from here. This person made a journey here to visit the hill.”
“Why?” Sonata asked, now entirely engrossed in the prospect of a story. “Did he tell you?”
“He did,” Sunset said. “The hill is sacred to his people. Long ago, the ancestors of his tribe fought a great battle with evil spirits here. Eventually they prevailed, and cast the spirits down into the earth, where their evil turned the land barren and hard. The victory came at another cost, however, as their Leader also perished in the fighting. It is their people’s belief that the hill is the burial mound for their fallen Leader.”
“Is it true?” Sonata asked in a hushed voice.
“Is what true?”
“The story. About spirits and things making the land here a desert.”
Sunset pulled a face. “I doubt it. But who knows? Perhaps it is true.”
“So why do they visit?” Sonata asked. “If they don’t live here.”
“The tribe moved far away when they discovered that the land had been stricken. But the land around the burial mound remained fertile. It is the belief of their people that eventually, the Leader’s goodness will outshine the spirit’s evil, and the land will be good and fertile again. Then, they shall return. The members of their tribe who venture out here are the heirs apparent to the tribal leadership, who claim to trace their line back to him. They make the pilgrimage here to pay their respects to the first of them, and to ask his patronage upon their people. Whilst here, they perform a ritual to offer the strength of the tribe in the leader’s spiritual war on the evil spirits to help cleanse the land of evil.”
Sonata looked around dubiously. “Not to be blasphemous,” she said seriously. “But I don’t think it’s working.”
“No,” Sunset agreed. “According to the traveller, the dead Leader always denies the help offered, wishing them instead to go on living instead of fighting along with him. It is their hope that, one day, the Leader will accept their help, and thus finally drive the evil from the land, and they will be able to return.”
“Did he accept their help last time?”
“The traveller did not think so,” Sunset said. “But they return every few years apparently to ask again, so hope springs eternal.”
There was a silence for some moments, and then Sonata asked another question.
“So is it just the two trees that are there?”
“No,” Sunset admitted. “Although, they are the most sacred objects there. They apparently contain the strength of the original Leader’s virtue and stamina, and eating the fruit that grows there is supposed to bestow these gifts upon the new leader.”
“What kind of fruit are they?” Sonata asked. “Have you tried any?”
“Absolutely not,” Sunset said gravely. “That would be disrespectful. Other than the trees, there is an altar, and a carved stone idol gilded with ivory and silver.”
“Like your idols?”
“A little,” Sunset agreed. “Only bigger. And a great deal shinier.”
“It sounds valuable,” Sonata said, looking out towards the hill. “Aren’t they afraid someone will steal it?”
“It’s no use to anyone out here,” Sunset shrugged. “What would you or I do with it?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Sonata said, still concerned. “I just hope that my people never find it. So, could we go and see it?”
“Perhaps one day,” Sunset said, leaning back with a sigh. “I would like to see it again.”
“I love seeing other people’s rituals and things. I wish I could have seen the new leader person,” Sonata said wistfully.
“A trait I am happy to say we have in common,” Sunset said before turning grave again. “If we go, you must promise me not to touch anything. I do not want the travellers to think me untrustworthy when they were kind enough to explain their ways to me.”
“I promise.” Sonata looked out towards the hill. “Is the altar there anything like yours?”
“In terms of function, it is much the same I should imagine,” Sunset said, inclining her head a little. “In scale it is larger, and more ornate. It is made to honour someone precious who has fallen in noble deed.”
“And yours isn’t for that,” Sonata surmised.
“My altar is meant to humble me before the gods,” Sunset said solemnly. “Its simplicity isn’t a description of them, but a symbol of the materials a lowly creature such as I have to work with. To create a seat for the idols more lustrous or decorative could be seen as a challenge, or a means to self aggrandise. It might even be viewed as an attempt to show the gods that I place myself on their level. One thing that gods, kings, and all people of high importance have in common is their dislike for being placed on an equal footing with anyone else.”
This last point had actually been something of a joke, but Sonata seemed to take it a different way.
“I know you don’t actually use your altar to ask the gods stuff, but in your religion, do you pray to the gods to show them you’re lesser than them?” she asked, frowning.
“I suppose in a way that’s what humility is,” Sunset said. “It’s usually the best way to gain the favour of a higher power. But there are other reasons to do so. A large part of the ritual that the travellers to the hill perform is prostrating themselves to their Leader, to show that they are humble enough to lead their people selflessly.”
Sunset looked at Sonata for a while, watching her apparently ponder this over. Then, something in how she’d said her last question made her wonder something.
“You disagree?” she asked. “Tell me your thoughts.”
Sonata frowned. “It’s not that I disagree. They’re your ways. My village viewed our gods differently than how yours did, I think.”
“Oh?” Sunset prompted.
“Our gods live in the lake and the mountains, guarded by terrible monsters. They don’t ask for worship in the same way others do. All they demand is fear.”
“Fear?” Sunset asked, uncertain what she meant.
“They want us to be afraid of them,” Sonata explained. “The elders tell us that it is by fear that we are made to live righteously. Without the gods to cow us into submission, we would be selfish and violent. So they demand we fear them, and cause terrible things to happen when we do anything without being properly afraid of what the gods might do to us whilst we do it.”
Sunset was frankly stunned by this description. She didn’t want to dishonour Sonata’s culture, and so she refrained from giving her thoughts. But she rather thought that’s what Sonata wanted her to do, and so compromised by seeking clarification.
“Did they forbid anything?” she asked. “Many tribes that I have visited have codes or laws they claim were set down by the gods.”
“There are only two rules,” Sonata said. “The first is to worship no other gods, for they cannot preserve us. We are of the lake and mountain, and bound to our gods by fate.”
For whatever reason, Sonata raised her hand up to her neck, as though feeling for something familiarly, although nothing was there but her slender blue throat. Sunset followed the gesture, but could make no sense of it, and Sonata didn’t seem to even notice she had done anything odd.
“The second rule is to always remember them, where ever we go. For if we forget them, they shall find us and bring us back.”
“Are you afraid that they will?” Sunset asked.
Sonata smiled as though she found the question itself amusing. “I suppose that would be the point, wouldn’t it?” she said, giving Sunset a wicked smile. “In case you’re wondering, that’s not why I’m here. Living with you.”
“No,” Sunset said. “You were escaping from something far more substantial than monsters and gods.”
Sonata looked at her sideways for a moment.
“I kind of like the idea of the Leader guy,” she said after a while.
Sunset raised her eyebrows. “Why is that?”
“It’s just kind of noble, isn’t it?” Sonata said. “Still fighting the evil spirits even when he’s dead, just so his people can live in peace and stuff.”
“And stuff,” Sunset repeated, smiling. “I admit that I find the story compelling as well. I hope that the Leader never asks for their help.”
It was Sonata’s turn to look surprised. “Why? Don’t you want the land to be good and stuff again?”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen whether he accepts their help or not,” Sunset said, staring out across the field. “I think the true point of the story is to remind his people that the past is dead and gone, and there’s nothing to be done about things that have already transpired. They must get on with their lives.”
Sonata scratched her head. “Then, what’s the point of them coming back to ask all the time? If he wants them to forget about the past?”
Sunset gave her a mysterious smile. “You’re a smart person. Why do you think they do it?”
Sonata thought, and hard. After a few moments pondering, she thought she had an answer.
“So that they remember,” she said.
Sunset shrugged. “It’s important to remember your past. However painful it might be, however much it hurts you, its lessons are too valuable to let go of.”
Sunset held Sonata’s gaze, which was a curious mixture of hesitancy and concern.
“You weren’t just thinking out loud, were you?” she asked.
“No,” Sunset replied, smiling slightly. “Just because I don’t like discussing my past doesn’t mean I don’t acknowledge it.”
Sonata maintained her concerned side glance for a while longer, and then said “Do you think the travellers think they’re acknowledging their past too?”
“What do you mean?” Sunset asked, puzzled.
“They remember their past, and they come here to face it again. But only their leaders do. The rest of the tribe remains behind, and takes the word of the leader about what happened, and what the first Leader’s answer about wanting help is.” She looked away. “I just think they might be lying to themselves in a way, you know?”
Sunset sat for a long while, unsure what to say to this.
“For such a capricious person,” she said eventually, “your insights can be disturbingly astute.”
The Red Stone
“I wonder what these are made of,” Sonata muttered to herself, inspecting some of the residual paint. She had some idea of keeping them for future use, but without knowing what was in them, she didn’t know if that was really possible.
She looked around for Sunset, thinking she would ask her since she had been the one to mix them.
“Wait,” she said absently, frowning as she turned in a complete circle. “Where is she?”
After a few moments of looking in the house, and standing on top of a slightly raised piece of rock jutting from the sandy ground, she thought to herself when she had seen Sunset last. Then she remembered.
“Oh yeah,” she said, snapping her fingers. “She was going to that place to get the thing.” She grinned, not at all remembering the description of the thing. From the place. Then she scowled. “Wherever that place is,” she mumbled. “And whatever the thing was. I wonder how long she’s going to be...”
Within five minutes of sitting in the Ouch-tree, she got bored waiting. But she had to admit that without Sunset around, she really didn’t have anything fun that she could do. The painting was done, and singing to herself had always seemed a little creepy. Not that she ever sang with Sunset around of course.
She felt her face grow warm at the very thought. That was her old life, and not a part of it she liked to think about. Then she smiled at how similar that sounded to Sunset, almost as though she was here.
“Time to get some work done,” she decided, suddenly full of responsibility energy. Something she usually only drew upon whenever Sunset was giving her the get-out-of-bed-or-no-dinner look.
She considered what to do in order of importance: Fetching water.
The water was more-or-less full. No sense getting more.
What about sweeping the floor? No good there either. Sunset had finally motivated Sonata to sweep it out two days prior when she had threatened to cut bits of Sonata’s hair during the night, and spread the strands around her bed. An odd, but motivating threat to be sure.
Other than that, she supposed she could pick some food for dinner. But she didn’t know what Sunset was cooking.
“I could cook something,” she said doubtfully.
Experimentally, she took a look in the pantry at the back of the home, a small dry space divided from the main room of the house by a layer of clay wall. The sight before her was not confidence-inspiring. She couldn’t name most of the items she saw, having mostly ever seen food in its prepared state.
Considering that Sunset would not be happy to find a burnt mess where her larder had once been, she thought to turn to a different course of action.
“But what?” she asked aloud.
The room remained silent.
She exhaled violently and dropped her head into one hand, glaring at the opposite wall. Its plain, grey surface seemed to mock her in how indifferent and unphased it was. For lack of any real object to cast her frustration upon, she decided that the wall would do to be going on with. Maybe if she damaged the wall, she could fix it. That’d be a job done. But even frustrated and desperate to find something useful to do, she could see the flaw in that plan, and how displeased Sunset would be if she ever found out that she had damaged her home just for something useful to do.
Also she didn’t know anything about fixing walls made of clay. Her village had traditionally used a combination of sea-stones, wood, and straw fixed together with mortar. She paused to smile reminiscently at the memory of her own childhood home, and at all the miniature adventures she and her sisters had gotten up to within, and indeed without.
She blinked. An idea formed from the fathoms of her memories. She wondered whether it would be worth trying...
“I’m back,” said a voice from the door.
Sonata looked up, her insides sinking a little as Sunset stepped in through the curtain over the door. Her idea would have to wait.
“Excellent work on the painting,” Sunset said. “I could barely see the house on my way back.”
Sonata was about to accept this praise with her usual dignity, when she noticed Sunset’s limping gait. Her eyes homed in on the left foot, which had a piece of bloodied cloth around it.
“What happened?” Sonata asked as Sunset sat down.
Taking a moment to set down a small bag next to her, Sunset lifted said foot and began to gingerly peel away the makeshift bandage. The injury was relatively small looking, but seemed to be quite deep.
“Stepped on something sharp,” Sunset said through gritted teeth as she tried to pull the skin a little, probing the puncture. “Something that ought not to have been there.”
In answer to Sonata’s inquiring look, Sunset reached into the bag she’d set down, and pulled out a glimmering red stone suspended on a broken leather necklace.
Sonata’s insides went cold.
“You’ve seen this before?” Sunset asked, a look of curiosity on her face.
Without saying anything, Sonata reached out and took the gem. There was no mistaking it... faceted exactly the same way, broken on the necklace where she—
“This is mine...” she whispered hoarsely. She turned it over, hoping against hope that she’d find something different, something that would indicate that her evaluation was wrong. But nothing differed from her memory of it other than the dried blood coating one sharp side of it. “It’s mine,” she said thickly. “Sunset, I’m so sorry.”
“You mean my foot?” Sunset asked. “Well I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt, but I have something for it, I think. Oh,” she said, peering into the chest beside her bed. “Would you mind doing me a favour?”
“What?” Sonata asked absently, looking up.
“I need you to go to the garden and bring me some tyroot. I’d go myself, but—“
“I’ll go. I’ll get it,” Sonata cried hastily. “Be right back!”
Sunset didn’t say anything to this, but patiently waited for Sonata’s rapid footsteps to return, and then informed her flustered living partner what the plant looked like. Unfortunately, Sonata returned again empty handed, claiming that no such plant as Sunset had described was in the garden.
Sunset’s lips tightened. “Ah, yes,” she said, frowning slightly. “Not to worry, though,” she said quickly, noticing Sonata’s stricken look. “They do not originate in my garden. As soon as I can walk properly again, I’ll gather more for planting. It’s only a half-day’s journey. Really, it’s fortunate that this small injury has reminded me that we need it.”
Sonata couldn’t help it though; she felt terrible. Sunset had likely used all of the tyroot in helping her with her shoulder. She sat down again, picking up the stone that had done the damage.
“I thought it lost forever,” she said, turning it over.
“It looks to be a thing of value,” Sunset commented, re-bandaging her foot with some clean cloth and binding.
“Not in a merchant’s way,” Sonata said. “Not to my people, anyway. The mountains are full of them. Of more colours, too. All of my people have a jewel like this of a sort.”
Sunset’s expression took on a more interested expression. “All of your tribe has them?”
“The elders assign us the type of necklace we have when we come of age, or when we prove ourselves worthy of a position in the village. Farmers have brown necklaces, weavers have white ones. Warriors have dark blue, and fishermen light blue, whilst hunters have green.”
“I see,” Sunset said thoughtfully, staring into space. “So the colour denotes your role in society. Fascinating. What did the elder’s have?”
“Purple,” Sonata answered. “Potters wore orange, and builders yellow. Pink ones were worn by—“ She paused, blushing. “Well, there were pink ones too, let’s just leave it at that.”
“Your village sounds as though it places a significant importance on the hierarchy imposed by these colours,” Sunset mused. “I mean,” seeing Sonata’s puzzled look, “that it sounds as though the rules about what necklace you wore was important.”
Sonata nodded. “The gods gave us colours so that we can tell whether something is safe, useful, edible, dangerous... um, and other stuff. It’s the same with people, the elders say. If you’re outside of your house, you must always wear your necklace, or face punishment.”
“Well I’m sure you’re glad to have your back then,” Sunset said, smiling. “It’d be a shame if you couldn’t leave the house.”
There was a silence here, which Sunset found to be somewhat strange, given the circumstances. A question occurred to her.
“Did you not wish the jewel returned to you?”
Sonata looked up at her, an almost beseeching look in her eyes. She opened her mouth, and Sunset instinctively thought that she was going to ask a question. If so, Sonata thought better of it, and instead paused before saying, in an uncertain tone “I don’t know.”
After staring at the gem for a moment more, she held it out to Sunset. “Would you mind holding onto it for me for a while? Just until I figure out... you know, what I want.”
Sunset took the red stone unsmilingly. Holding it again, she felt an unaccountable weight to it that either hadn’t been there before, or she hadn’t perceived there when she’d first held it. Curious.
Whilst Sunset was cooking, and Sonata leaving to walk, think, or whatever struck her as appropriate, Sunset found herself reflecting on the direction her life seemed to be taking.
It seemed to her that a great many things that she once would have probably thought objectionable, were happily transpiring to be things that she really didn’t quite mind. Indeed, Sonata was proving to be quite a pleasant addition to her daily routine.
Except for the very particular questions she had a habit of asking. She really wished that would stop.
When this thought occurred to her, she had to admit that she felt the traces of guilt building deep in her heart. Since her self-imposed-exile, she had never once been interested in the backgrounds of any of the few people she had encountered. And whilst she still didn’t feel an invasive curiosity, she had to admit, there was one thing that was disturbing her mind.
Looking down at the ruby in her hand, Sunset couldn’t help but notice that, during her explanation of the colours and their meanings, Sonata had neglected to mention what red signified.
Imitation is the Greatest Form of Flattery
Imitation is the Greatest Form of Flattery
Despite her earnest efforts to help out with the daily chores (when she felt like it), Sonata rarely awoke until far passed sunrise. Sunset on the other hand was rarely outpaced by the morning, and was up and about making the house ready as the sun’s face rose drowsily over the shimmering horizon. Sunset was somewhat surprised this morning, therefore, to find Sonata up and about when she arrived back from gathering wood for the cooking fire.
“Good morning,” Sonata trilled cheerfully. “Sleep well?”
“As well as I ever did,” Sunset said, limping slightly over to the tall urn that held fire wood. “What, may I ask, are you up to?”
With what Sunset made out to be a partially burnt stick, Sonata seemed to be making a series of markings along one wall. Sunset didn’t really mind that she was doing this, but she was rather curious as to the reason.
“Well, we finished doing the inside of your house,” Sonata explained. “I thought I’d do up the inside of it a little too, since we have some extra paint.”
Sunset raised her eyebrows. “That’s a thought,” she said quietly. “I’d never considered decorating the interior before.” She smiled, placing a hand on Sonata’s shoulder. “Well, it’s our house now, anyway. I look forward to the results.”
Sonata’s face flushed with pleasure. “I promise it’ll look great. You’ve done so much for me, and I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to repay you for it.”
“As surprised as I am to say it,” Sunset began sardonically. “Your company is entirely worth it. That, and your half of the chores.”
Sonata grinned.
Having finished breakfast and the morning work, Sunset sat down to her morning meditation. Noting that her skin pigmentations were faded enough to necessitate their being reapplied, she took a moment to retrieve a crude, flattish box, inside of which was the liquid dye. As she sat before a disc of polished metal, steadily applying the dye under her eyes, she perceived a blue smudge in the background behind her reflection. Looking over her shoulder, she found that Sonata was kneeling behind her, peering with apparent interest at the box. Upon asking if she needed anything, Sunset was made to feel somewhat disquieted by Sonata’s request that she use the skin dye as well.
“Might I ask why?” Sunset asked, trying to hide her initial feelings of disapproval.
“Just to see what it’s like, I guess,” Sonata said, a little evasively.
Sunset repressed a frown. Some might have questioned why Sunset felt an almost defensive anxiety in regards to this request, but Sunset would not have been disposed towards giving an answer had they done so. At length, and giving in to a mild deception, she was able to explain the significance of the markings, and how it really wasn’t appropriate for Sonata to wish to have them on a mere whim. Sonata eventually seemed to take the hint, and asked no further.
Although made ill-at-ease by the interaction, Sunset’s clever mind managed to quickly work its way through to a pleasing conclusion that set her at ease.
It could have been any number of reasons for Sonata to ask she thought. Boredom, caprice, curiosity, or even empathy. She might have seen it as a compliment to Sunset herself, and whilst Sunset did not feel that she deserved it any such attention, she could at least appreciate the gesture of it, and why Sonata felt like she should make it. Sunset just wished that she didn’t, but she understood that her personal wishes could not stop reality being what it was.
This, unfortunately, was not the end of Sunset’s agitations that day. Within an hour of setting herself at ease with her inner perambulations, she began to develop an ongoing headache, that worsened throughout the day. At times it throbbed, putting her off her activities and causing her to become distracted. Whilst retrieving stored food from the shed, she became slightly disorientated by the sun’s light and heat, causing her to accidentally crush several vegetables she had intended to use for dinner that night. Groaning and muttering all the while, she made her way to the garden, only to find Sonata there, seated in the shadows of the tree-line that formed one edge of the loose square of crops. Using the polished metal disc that Sunset had used that morning, Sonata was staring closely at her reflection, doing something or other with her hair. It took Sunset a few seconds to realise that Sonata was twisting her deep azure locks into thin braids. Braids rather like Sunset’s own.
Sunset’s head gave an angry pulse, and she turned away, deciding to gather the plants later.
Deciding that she didn’t feel well enough to do any of the things she wanted to do that morning, Sunset retired to the house to try and sleep off her ill-feelings. To her disappointment, she awoke from an uneasy nap sometime in the early afternoon to find that not only had her head not stopped hurting, but also that she now felt somewhat off balance, as though she’d hit her head or blown her eardrums. Whilst she tried to get her bearings, she noticed through the doorway that someone was sitting just outside the house. For a moment, uneasiness and fear dragged gentle claws against the bottom of her stomach, imagining some stranger chancing upon her refuge whilst she was in this pitiable and wretched condition. Then her vision became defined enough to realise that the figure was a familiar, blue person.
Without the energy, and thus without the inclination, to speak or move, Sunset merely watched Sonata for a moment before realising what it was she was doing.
Seated on the opposite side of Sunset’s small altar, Sonata seemed to be staring with unusual concentration at the cluster of idols arranged on its surface. For a little while, it seemed as though she was simply content to sit there contemplatively, doing whatever it is Sonata did when thinking. Sunset found the hanging braids on Sonata’s head distracting. And then Sonata did something that made Sunset’s stomach churn with unease.
Raising both hands, she set them either side of her, rather as Sunset did when she meditated, even arranging the fingers the same way. In the midst of apparently trying to get the position right, she caught Sunset’s gaze upon her, and ceased what she was doing before smiling and moving quickly away.
When Sunset finally felt awake enough to get out of bed, she was determined to go in search of Sonata and find out exactly what was going on . Sunset didn’t want to seem paranoid, but it seemed to her that Sonata was copying her. If that was so, then...
Sunset trembled a little.
The afternoon light seemed to burn her retinas. Her already sluggish and irritable brain sank deeper into agitation as her head pounded. At that moment she would gladly have traded all of her medical knowledge for a headache cure.
Taking a deep drink of water, she looked around to see if she could spot Sonata anywhere in the general vicinity. No such luck; her distinctive blue skin and hair was absent from the yellow-orange landscape all around. On a hunch, she made for the watering hole, cursing every inch as the very thudding of her steps seemed to make her brain jolt inside her head. Her bandaged foot alone seemed to remain cool as she made her way across the sandy, pebbly plain. Was it just her, or was the day unusually hot?
After what seemed like an unusually long time, she reached the outcrop of the hammer strike that formed the oasis, and was at first glad to see that Sonata was indeed there. But she had to admit that, at first, she was at a loss to understand exactly what Sonata was doing.
Sunset possessed a number of small knives, which she used mainly in either cooking, or fashioning of her medicines, and occasionally in her building projects. In Sonata’s hand was one such knife, and in the other a piece of wood. Sonata had some surprising talent for carving, since Sunset could immediately tell what it was she was making.
“Stop that,” she said sharply. “What are you doing?”
Sonata spun around, dropping the knife guiltily. “W-What?” she yelped in surprise.
“Why are you making that?” Sunset asked, pointing shakily at the figure in Sonata’s hand.
Sonata looked at her creation doubtfully. “It’s one of your little idol things,” she said uncertainly.
“Why are you making it?” Sunset repeated. Before Sonata could answer, Sunset went on. “Why have you braided your hair like mine?”
“I just—“
“I saw you at the altar,” Sunset went on, the heaviness in her chest and throbbing in her head spurring on her anger.
“I wasn’t doing anyth—“ Sonata began, blushing. She stopped as her eyes met Sunset’s. She looked down at the floor, tugging on one of the braids as though suddenly guilty of them. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said meekly. “I just wanted to see what it was like. They look so nice on you, and—“
Sunset’s insides clenched, her jaw tightening. Without a word, she turned away, desiring nothing more than to get away from Sonata right then. It made her feel sick and tired. She needed to sleep again. Oh, how had she not noticed how tired she still was?
“Sunset!” Sonata called.
“Go away,” Sunset muttered, clutching her pounding head, not even noticing herself listing to one side and then the other as she walked back to the house. Slow as this progress was, Sonata managed to quickly catch up.
“Did I do something wrong?” Sonata asked. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I’ll undo the braids if it makes you feel better.”
“You haven’t,” Sunset said huskily, trying to keep the glaring sun out of her eyes. “You haven’t done... it’s not...”
“Sunset, what’s wrong?” Sonata asked with a sudden urgency.
“Nothing,” Sunset said a little testily. ‘Nothing, I’m just... going to bed, I—“
Sonata stepped in front of her. “Sunset, you look really ill.”
“Get off!” Sunset snapped, slapping away Sonata’s outstretched hand. “Put your hair back right!” she slurred, her jaw locking up. “Don’t copy me! You shouldn’t—You don’t understand what you—” She couldn’t get her words out. They mingled and tripped in her mouth, falling from her lips without reason or rhyme. “You deserve better,” she managed to say, pressing her trembling hands to her eyes.
“Sunset!?” Sonata gasped. “Sunset, your foot!”
“Anyone deserves better,” Sunset went on, oblivious to Sonata’s words.
“Oh gods, Sunset!” Sonata cried, although oddly muffled. It sounded to Sunset as though her ears had been stuffed full of cork. If her head hadn’t been hurting so much, she might have noticed the sudden impairment in her balance. But she didn’t. Pain and disorientation boxed her thoughts down into the painful, thimble-sized node of concentration on what she feared.
“You deserve better than to be me,” Sunset said. Or perhaps she only thought it.
The next thing she knew was that, somehow, the ground was now to the side of her, the world having turned ninety degrees around. This struck her as slightly odd, although not as odd as the hazy, tunnel-like quality her vision was taking on. The world momentarily vanished, and all she could see was a yellow disc surrounded by whiteness. And in the centre, a blue face with wide magenta eyes, speaking. Although what this face was shouting at her, Sunset couldn’t quite hear. She wondered whether it would be worth trying to listen harder, just in case it was something important. Coming to the point however, she found that she didn’t care very much about it at the moment.
We have Neighbours?
Sonata had at best a rudimentary knowledge of dealing with injuries: Pressure, bandages, and lots of crying. Although in most circumstances she was rather sure that it was the patient that cried, and not the healer. Throughout the events that took place to get Sunset back to the house, plop her onto her bed, and awaken her enough for the invalid to slur out instructions, the only tears that fell came from Sonata’s streaming eyes. In between fevered sobs and trembling, Sonata managed to effectively bandage Sunset’s foot and get Sunset comfortable. The only problem was it seemed blood loss had not been the cause of Sunset’s collapse, but something more sinister.
“It comes with the rainy season,” Sunset breathed between ragged breaths. Shaking underneath her blanket, the bed was moist with her sweat as it continued to pour from her pale face. After accepting the water Sonata held up for her, Sunset continued. “I should have recognised this disease. I didn’t think such a small injury would...”
“You’ll be alright, though,” Sonata said in a voice of false cheer. “You’ve had it before, right?”
“No,” Sunset replied quietly. “It is... known among my people. I will not lie to you; it is a dire affliction. Many perish in agony and madness.”
Sonata’s insides, already feeling as heavy and precarious as a boulder at the edge of a high cliff, now plummeted, mercilessly crushing the innocent little village at the base of the metaphorical cliff that had been populated by Sonata’s hopes and comfortable self delusions.
“But you know how to deal with it, right?” Sonata asked desperately. “Y-You can’t die. You just can’t.”
“I do know a cure,” Sunset admitted. “However...”
“Sunset?” Sonata prompted tremulously when it seemed that Sunset had lost her train of thought.
“We lack the ingredients. The tyroot is an... an essential ingredient.”
Sonata’s heart sank, if possible, even lower, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. Guilt reached up from within her and sank deep, poisonous claws into her innards.
“I’m sorry,” Sonata whined. “It’s my fault you don’t have any more. It was my necklace that—“
“Listen to me, Sonata,” Sunset rasped urgently, cutting through Sonata’s sobs. “At best, I have a few days. If I am to survive, I must be able to make the medicine before my mind is too far gone.”
“What do I need to do?” Sonata asked immediately. “Is there anywhere I can get medicine?”
“I would not trust to it,” Sunset said in a subdued tone, almost as though to herself. “I did not encounter tyroot here naturally. I transplanted it here from another place.”
Sonata’s hopes lifted. “Where? Is it far?”
“It is a half a day’s journey. You’ll need water, and food.”
“This is all my fault,” Sonata moaned.
“Sonata!” Sunset snapped, exerting herself enough to partially sit up. “Whose fault it is, is not the issue. Please,” she lay back down, the struggle sapping her of what little physical strength she had. “If you don’t retrieve the herb, I will die. The illness is too far along. If you were not here, I would certainly perish; you’re the only hope I have now.”
Sonata sat for a moment, feeling a curiously light sensation, as though gravity no longer affected her. It lasted only a moment, but it gave her a sudden urge to laugh.
“That’s heavy,” she said, unable to stop herself snickering. “That’s far too heavy.”
Sunset regarded her for a moment or two, not without concern. She gave Sonata a look that might have meant anything, but what actually ran through her brain was the possibility that Sonata was ill too.
The laughing fit did not afflict Sonata for long.
Back home—
What used to be home, Sonata thought bitterly.
Where Sonata once lived, she was known amongst the village’s youth for her whimsical caprice, and her curious enthusiasms. Rarely did a day go by that didn’t bear further proof of her restless mind, her boundless desire to test and discover anything, no matter how bizarre, seemingly insignificant, or indeed dangerous. If anyone had espoused the opinion that Sonata was capable of, much less being, committed to a serious task, that person would have been ejected from the village for fear of being mad. An affliction regarded with superstitious fear of the paranormal.
If any of her tribe had seen her as she trudged across the sandy rock plain as she did on the day she left the Twin-rock... well, they might have looked at one another in fearful despair that perhaps the entire village had succumbed to the spectre of insanity.
Rarely before however had Sonata’s resolve been tested – truly tested – as it was now. She would climb mountains in pursuit of this herb. Cross surging rivers, clash with vicious predators, battle through hordes of ravenous anthropophagi if it meant that she could save Sunset’s life. Sunset couldn’t die, not now. Not when it was her, Sonata’s, fault. Preferably not ever, but especially not if it was because of what she had done. Because of her necklace...
As fate would have it, however, Sonata was not obliged to do any of these things.
Sunset had given Sonata simple directions to the spot, told her in what areas the plant was most likely to grow, and given her a drawing of what the plant looked like; a simple but sufficiently detailed colour sketch of the herb. The path she trod crossed no mountains, which lay to the west and north, where as her path took her north east. She did not have to cross any raging torrents, as the river was calm, and she was only obliged to follow it, rather than traverse it. She met no dangerous predators, since the rainy season’s inundations had not yet produced the explosive flowering of plant-life that would attract their prey back from far away pastures.
As for the cannibalistic tribes she had envisioned, she had forgotten that Sunset had once told her that the nearest settlement of any kind was several day’s distance away. Despite this, it gave her a thrill of courage to think of herself evading bands of mask-wearing bruisers smothered in the gore of their last unfortunate victim, on the prowl for a seemingly harmless blue-skinned morsel like herself to pounce on like a pack of hyenas.
Indeed, the only thing of note that Sonata might have seen along the way was a large stone. Given that there were large stones dotting the entire landscape, it was perhaps not surprising that Sonata did not notice this particular one, especially in her relatively focused state of mind. If she had been her usual curious self, however, she might have noticed the curvature of the rock, giving it the peculiar appearance of a frozen wave rising from an otherwise calm ocean of sandy stone. As a result, she also didn’t see the colourful images daubed upon the interior, flashing out unspoken warnings for any willing to see.
The river’s edge eventually reached a point where the water lowered into a spray of small rapids, heralding a decline in the land, and forming a craggy steppe where tall trees and bushes clustered. Sonata found that she was somewhat surprised to discover the land changing. Having seen the same landscape for so many months, she had half-forgotten that the land could change as radically as this.
The river began again at the base of the steppes from a large pool that the rapids fed into and where fish played like silvery paper kites. As the river carried on, its banks were wider than before, but its depth shallower and its course calmer. Perhaps because of this, the ground around seemed more fertile. Grasses spread out wider from the riverbanks, and more splendorous plants stood green and colourful all around, and in the water.
Sonata paused here, fatigued by the journey, and just realising how hungry she was. She looked up at the sky to find the sun hovering in the west, a great deal lower than it was when she set out. Seating herself, she pulled out some of the dried fruit and bread she’d brought with her, surprised to see how little of each there was.
“Oh, right,” she muttered to herself, remembering her snacking habit along the way. Looking into the bag she’d brought with her, she began to wonder if she had enough for the journey back.
“I can go a day without food,” she told herself uncertainly. Likely she could, but the idea was unappealing. Especially if she needed to get back quickly for Sunset. “Water shouldn’t be a problem though,” she said aloud, dipping her toes into the river.
“What I need to be doing is looking for the tyre... tee-roo... plant-thing.”
With this goal reasserted, she unfurled the sketch of the plant, and examined it closely. As with many herbs, it was relatively small, and had delicate little flowers. Purple ones, if the sketch was accurate. Sonata peered around for such a plant, but had to admit that she could see no such thing.
She thought back to what Sunset had told her about their location, and remembered that she had described gathering them next to a ‘forest’. Unfortunately, Sonata’s people had no word for such a thing, as they lived on the coast, and were surrounded by mountains and a lake that supported only scanty numbers of trees.
“A place where trees grow thickly,” Sonata repeated, frowning in thought. “Shouldn’t it be called a thicky then? Or maybe a thicket.”
Things to dwell on later, she decided.
She knew that she had to follow the river to find this ‘forest’ thing. She looked around, but had to admit she could see no great growth of trees. Apart from the distant greenish hills, the only thing that stood out in view was a strange, dark mass further along the river, some distance away. Sonata regarded this darkness with profound mistrust. It had an irregular top that was a bright, friendly green in the dying sunlight, but a dark and sinister looking lower part that looked as though it were trying to hide malevolent intentions underneath a cheerful demeanour. As she watched, the top rippled and flickered like fish scales, flashing a multitude of greens.
When she had travelled close enough to see that it wasn’t a single amalgamated entity, but instead a great host of trees as Sunset had described, her mistrust did not quite abate even as her excitement grew. The ‘forest’ was noisy with a multitude of small sounds that coalesced into a somewhat disturbing singular din. To Sonata, who was used to the relative silence of the open plains, the sound was greatly disquieting. It seemed to her that eyes watched her from the trees’ fathomless depths, and she was alone before its cold and unconcerned gaze.
Pursing her lips, Sonata looked across the river. Tall reeds obscured the actual margins of the riverbed, most taller than Sonata herself, but they weren’t tall enough to fully hide the continuation of the forest on the other side. She wondered briefly if the trees on both sides counted as one forest, or if it was technically two forests.
“I really don’t want to go in there,” she mumbled, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She took a drink from her water pouch, and realised that it was essentially empty. Shrugging, she walked towards the riverbank, and stepped carefully amongst the reeds. Having lived by a lake most of her life, she knew to tread carefully for fear of slipping or abruptly meeting the water’s edge.
“Maybe I can go around the forest through the water,” Sonata said absently. She wasn’t entirely sold on the idea; looking between the two dark masses rendered black in the growing twilight, she felt that the inviting river was a lure to get her to walk blithely into the forest’s open maw. She was so intent on watching the trees – a most impossible feat, given that they were on both sides of her – that she didn’t at first notice the small, purple flowers in and amongst the reed beds until she put a foot forward to step on one.
“Ow!” Sonata squealed, leaping back. She stared around in the water, her heart racing, looking for the source of whatever had just bitten her. Snakes, spiders, or a hundred other things could be in this river. She’d heard stories of man-eating fish before living in the ocean; could they exist in rivers too? Now that she thought about it, maybe going through the river wasn’t such a good idea.
After a few moments, she found that she could see no sign of any creature, and so looked down at her leg. She was surprised to find that as opposed to bite marks, all there was to see was a red line, the sort of thing one might get if struck by a springy twig or whip.
She calmed here, figuring that she must have knocked a reed that had swung out and whipped her leg. She raised her foot to step forward again.
“Ouch!” she cried, stepping hastily back again. “What is doing that?”
“Your question,” someone said, “is ill-directed. If you wish the truth, allow me to correct it.”
Sonata froze in terror, her eyes flicking too-and-fro for the source of the mysterious voice. To her utter bewilderment, she was incapable of seeing anyone nearby. But the voice had been close, almost in her ear. She shivered as she wondered whether she was being spoken to by some kind of spirit or river guardian. Maybe even a nature god.
“Please do not step upon the flowers,” the voice said calmly, as though from all around. “From them, one might derive many useful healing powers.”
It must be a god, Sonata thought quickly. Who else speaks in rhymes?
Wishing not to offend the river, Sonata lowered herself to her hands and knees, trying to keep her head respectfully bowed without letting her face sink below the water line. When the voice said nothing, and the waters did not seem inclined to act, she broke the silence.
“Healing powers?” she repeated meekly.
Apparently in response, from beyond the reeds rose a long, thin item. It was hard for Sonata to identify it in the encroaching twilight darkness, but whatever it was, it lowered to the water’s surface. At the end of it was a thin-looking bag that was emitting an eerie, greenish light, which cast a shimmering glow upon the water’s surface. Sonata’s eyes instinctively followed the light downwards, and noticed that the light was hovering over a number of small flowers rising from the shallow water.
Sonata stared in wonder, remembering Sunset’s description of where to find—
“The tie—Teeroo... um...”
“If tyroot is the aim of your quest, then you may put your apprehension to rest. The flowers you see grow all around, but only in this place can they naturally be found.”
“Oh,” Sonata said, rather foolishly. “Um, river goddess... err, would it be okay if I had some of them?”
“Some of them? Why would you seek more than one plant? To create a steady crop, merely one is sufficient.”
“My friend is very sick, and she needs to make a cure. She used to have some of these flowers in her garden, but—“ Sonata halted as her guilt rose to choke off her words.
The voice paused as though considering this. “Your friend who is ill, can you describe her? Is she likely to be someone with whom I might confer?”
“Oh, well,” Sonata began, frowning. “Well, she has gold-coloured skin. Red and yellow hair. She has these tattoos on her—“
“Forgive my interrupting your explanation,” the voice said, sounding intrigued. “But I recognise this description. Did I hear correctly when you said that you were this person’s companion?”
“I live with her,” Sonata said, scratching her head a little. “If that’s what you mean.”
The voice did not say anything for a little while. Sonata rather wondered if perhaps the river god disapproved, and it was coming up with a way to punish her. Just to be sure, she bowed her head lower.
“How long has your friend had this affliction? When did the symptoms first come to your attention?”
“Oh, err, today. This morning. She said—“ Sonata gulped. “She said that she only had a few days to... to live. She said that it would drive her mad.”
After yet another pause, Sonata lowered her head almost to the water. “Please, may I take some of your flowers? I can’t let her die. She’s done so much for me, and I can’t let her suffer because of what I’ve done.”
The voice made a considering sort of hum, but not the way one would if they were deciding something. It sounded more as though it had just figured something out.
“You may take a single flower back with you, flower, leaf, and stem. From that your friend should be able to breed a crop of them. Rest here for tonight, and return at first light.”
“B-But—“
“Fear not, girl, for you will be in time to save her from this blight. But you are tired, and the night journey is a dangerous one. It would be unwise to risk your life and hers on an impulsive decision.”
Sonata supposed that the voice was right. Even so, the thought of Sunset on her own and sick, maybe even in pain...
“But where should I sleep? I cannot live in the river.”
The voice explained that there was a dwelling where she might sleep just within the tree line, and that in the morning, she would be supplied with food, water, and the herbs she would need for the return journey. After thanking the voice humbly, Sonata moved carefully out of the river, and towards the dark trees, where even from there she was able to make out the dim outline of some kind of structure just within. She still felt apprehensive about the wall of sinister-looking plants, and at first trod towards it as though on her way to an execution. She kept imagining all sorts of horrors would erupt from behind a trunk and seize her.
“Why do you linger here?” the voice asked inquiringly. “Is there something there that you fear?”
Sonata looked quickly to her left, in the direction of the voice, and her blood turned to ice. The long stick, or staff, or poll on which the ghost-light hung was upright, and bathing the reeds in an ethereal glow. By this light, Sunset could see a half-visible shape sitting upon a rock. It was impossible to tell whether the shape were person, animal, or something in between, but what was clearly visible, was a pair of sharp blue eyes staring straight at Sonata from in between the reeds.
Shrieking with fright, Sonata practically flew into the forest, made straight for the hut within, and threw herself through the door.
The eyes watched all of this with calm unconcern, and after contemplating the slammed door for a moment or two, closed, returning their owner to tranquil contemplation of the night falling around her.
