Ink-stained Reveries

Chapter 1: Faulty Flight

Araceli loved life among the conifers and the surrounding lush, ravine-cracked lands of the forest. She loved the peaceful sounds of nearby creatures and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees before fluffing up her own feathery foliage. And she appreciated Moss. Particularly, she appreciated the human's affinity with their name-sake as it would make for a softer landing when she failed her nearly solitary flight practices. Like right now.

The moment Araceli's talons shakily kicked off the high-ridge of the ravine, the moment her large white-and brown wings surged down with a gale of wind to lift her off into the air, it happened again. As weightlessness came into her body, her stomach lurched forward as though wanting a view of the path of the food it digested in reverse, and the Freeze happened. Darkness consumed Araceli, replacing the serene forest surrounding her. The twittering of the birds were ripped away by the sound of explosions and the frantic flapping of large wings overhead and cries of panic from the familiar strangers in her vision. The night was cold and Araceli was caught tight in the grip of someone or something much larger. And then, nothing. Nothing but wind and chaos tossing her through a storm of confusion. Araceli was falling, and despite it all, this version of her, be it dream or memory, wasn't scared. No, the fear would come later. For now, this other-self watched with detached fascination as the dark landscape of arrow-shaped trees grow closer and closer every time her eyes managed to latch onto what seemed like 'down'.

A more familiar whistling fought through the mental din as Araceli felt pulled in two directions of self. She struggled to open her eyes, trying to focus on what was real. What was real?

You're not there, you're in the woods with Moss you need to— The air was forced from her lungs in a singular whoosh as her body made contact with the soft moss on top of the very hard dirt. Divinities dammit, not again.

A soft copper-brown hand came into Araceli's line of sight as a silent offering, waiting patiently for the pavox as she struggled to get air back into her body. Careful not to catch her tail feathers in her talons, Araceli took the proffered hand and stood, looking up into the thin-lipped, flat-browed expression of her closest friend. They didn't need words. Even if Moss hadn't been non-vocal, their expressions would have always been enough to express their thoughts. Their concerned annoyance.

"I know, I know, I froze up again. I can do it. I ... just give me a second ok?" Araceli let go of their hand, running her barbed finger pads over her feathers as she wrapped her wings around herself like a living blanket, swaying like a tree in a steady tempo to calm her racing heart. "I know where I am, I'm in the Towering Wilds , I'm eighteen Suns old, and yes, I'm still a failure."

A sharp snapping sound from Moss caused Araceli's head to jerk up in time to catch her own braided, feather-wood cane being thrown at her as well as the furious signing from Moss's hands. Their brow scrunched in offense as their finger and arm movements were sharp with reprimand.

"You are not a failure, Araceli. You know I was just annoyed for you. And concerned. If I'm not putting words in my mouth, you as sure as the Heretic is cursed have no right to. Are you ok?" Moss' hands trailed off, pointer finger picking at their thumb cuticle in a familiar nervous habit as they watched their friend in concern.

"Well enough," Araceli sighed in self pity, knowing well enough to drop it. Moss was as stubborn as they came, even among their own people. Once Moss set their mind on something, you had a hard fight ahead of you to try and change it.

Araceli looked up between the canopy of alder trees atop the towering ravine slopes above them before glancing at the few, but growing shadows of the late afternoon. Shifting her weight she leaned into the partially stripped alder trunk from passing village foragers, Araceli brushed herself off , fixing a small tangle of brown hair and feathers as well as the duo of colorful woven cloth lengths around her upper and lower body to ensure she was still covered.

With a shake of her body, letting go of a few loose feathers, Araceli gripped the worn, leather-wrapped, wing-shaped handle of her walking-stick to put her weight back on her weary talons. She had walked her whole life, and it didn't seem like that would be changing anytime soon.

Araceli took a slow breath in and out, listing to the soft sound of bird chatter mingled with the musical cadence of insects surrounding them in this ancient forest. While they managed to trek out to the newer growth area not too far from the prairie lands beyond the woods, the land here had seen so much history. Araceli wondered if she were the most pitiful pavox these woods had witnessed. "It looks like it's getting late, we may as well head back to Sanctuary's Heart. Don't know if we can make it in time, but if we hurry, we could slip into the back before the druids begin the ceremony."

Moss narrowed their eyes as though picking up on Araceli's continued self-loathing, but finally nodded with their own worried glance at the crown-gap above them.

Clambering up the lightly worn path from the ravine depths, the two youth made their way north, deeper into the forest, and further into the old-growth life that surrounded their land. Only a few minutes of quick walking yielded the enormous sequoia trunks and soon the home-sized bases of the ancient red-woods. Taking the small path to avoid the undergrowth, Moss and Araceli moved quickly, the human leading the way on spry, deer-skin covered feet, pausing to check the subtle path markers towards the village, and trying not to rush the slower land-bound pavox that plodded along behind, two talons and a large stick making for an odd trail of tracks in the patches of spring-soft earthen path.

"You think we can make it before the entire village is Rooted for the ceremony? I'm not sure if we can sneak in if they've already locked in?"

Moss turned their head and gestured for her to keep moving with a raised eyebrow and glance down to Araceli's talons that said "perhaps, we just have to keep moving. How are your feet?"

"We're at a four out of ten, I'll be ok once we get there. I can deal with four for now. Just keep on going, I'll be right behind."

Moss winced in sympathy but nodded and bound ahead, still careful to keep in sight of Araceli. Gritting her teeth, Araceli picked up the pace, careful that her own leather-wrapped talons didn't catch on a stray root or rock as the uneven but familiar terrain passed under-claw. Several times, it seemed like she lost Moss. Araceli knew the way just as well as the human, but still felt a thrill of concern travel down her wings as they fluttered nervously on her back before she would catch sight of her friend glancing back at the bend of the trail, waiting until she got close enough and darted off through the undergrowth once more at a nod from the pavox. Why did she have to suggest traveling out so far to the ravines today? They had both gotten a late start to the day, having to wash more of her house-holds linens than she had anticipated. Despite the limited need of clothing by most of her family during the warmer months, there was still the bedding and cleaning cloths to tend to. She'd nearly lost a handful in the nearby brook when she slipped on a slick rock as she tried to ease down to the earth, cedar basket in one hand resting against her hip, and cane gripped in the other. Fortunately, no one else had been at the steam-side given how late she had been. No one had seen. No one could worry about her or suggest she do simpler tasks within the village limits. She would prove she was just as capable as anyone her age. Even if she was half their height. Being the only pavox to live in the larger mehtosenikwaian town of Kenosiwa Meshkwi-Mehtekwi Tepihiwewa-Oteweni, or Red Sequoia Grove of the Towering Wilds in the Prosaic language, she already stood out well enough. Sure there were visitors that wandered through now and again from the marshes further south, but the pavox marsh-dwellers of Heartland (Nahmiteh-Inahakiwi) always seemed to avoid her. When she was a chick, it was easier to pass off as one of them. But as her feathers began to shape out of the youthful fluff, and her face began to shape into the tell-tale heart shaped face of a Tyto, the other pavox began to shun her. Once she had fully fledged and her pure white plumage turned only on the tops to a variety of rich browns, marking her as a Tyto-Alba, there had been concerned mutters and hostile glares from even the more casual marsh-pavox that had visited. Only after extensive meetings with the village elders and her own adoptive family-elders, did the marsh-pavox consent to continue their trading with the village. Marked as a High-Tyto in post Porcelain Dispute was a fraught experience. And without her even knowing her infamous blood-family, the insult of the others stung all the more.

Still, her family had defended her fiercely and explained to her the basics of the Dispute that ended well over a decade ago. Their village was too remote to have been directly effected by the non-war— Eternally shall The Heritic be cursed— but several of their Healers and even Guardians had been dispatched to help their eastern cousins in the Dispute- efforts. One family lost their Mid-Sister to the dispute, only able to recover enough Life Sap and a branch to complete the funereal rights and add her essence to the Family Tree. By that time, Araceli had already been found after falling from the sky and had been taken in by her now-family. The only tie she had to her previous life had been her name etched in Cloud Script on her clothing, and the lasting trauma of that fateful night. Now the entire Grove counted her as a full- budded member of the village. Even the copse, or family, who lost their Blood-Sap relative to the violence cared for her as they would anyone else of the Grove.

The sound of low, quiet humming and the slow, beat of the ceremonial drum reached through Araceli's mental fog as she realized they had made it past the outer ring of the Grove and back to Sanctuary's Heart. Her own heart twisted with guilt as the drums indicated they had already missed the beginning of the Opening Meditation.

Working to catch her breath in the tempo of the drumming like that of an ancient heart-beat, Araceli stepped through the Sacred Arch into Sanctuary's Heart, a ring of some of the most ancient redwoods in the entire forest. The Elders who were able to commune with the Ancient trees themselves taught that these trees had managed to survive at least one if not several of the Divine Disasters millennia ago. A sense of peace washed over Araceli as she followed Moss towards a small gap in the outermost ring of those gathered in the Sanctuary. They both slipped into rank as Moss sank down into the strange human resting position of crossing and folding their legs together. Around them, the Mehtosenikwawi village members had rooted themselves into the very earth, their own trunk-roots reaching down to commune with the Central Root-Heart that made up this Sanctuary.

Neither she nor the human Grove members could commune as the mehtosen people could. And despite this being a time of closed eyes to commune with the forest, Araceli saw a few human eyes peek open at their arrival, some of the elder humans with a disapproving shake of their heads. Araceli limped up to Moss' side as the human patted the section of earth next to them. Araceli set her cane in front of her, superstitiously ensuring the magic was far enough away from any nearby human. With a twist of a wooden knot on the cane's shaft, a warm green light ran down the natural lines of the feather-wood from top to bottom as the cane grew its own roots that buried deep into ground. Then, adjusting the height of her cane, she pushed the knot once more to lock it in place. Breathing in deep, Araceli jumped up with a balancing flap of her wings, glad to be as light as she was, and settled down onto the wing-shaped handle grip and wrapped both talons around the horizontal section as she settled in.

Araceli's sigh of relief at being being able to perch at last was made not a moment too soon as the drum beats seemed to end as soon as her breath completed. The sound of the percussive music echoed through the trees before fading into slow silence.

"Welcome, one and all. We are gathered here on this momentous occasion to celebrate these saplings who have chosen their path in the ways of the divine. Those of you who would pledge, rise and make your way to the center of the rings." The Head Druid, Faithful-Red, lifted her wood-woven arms high; signing along as she spoke as an excited rustling of leaves flowed through those gathered. Slowly, from all across the circle, a stand-full of saplings made their way with varying levels of nervousness to the small central gathering of druids.

Araceli watched as Thimbleberry, Sage, Lupine, and Spruce made a small circle with the Head Druid. She could see Thimbleberry's branch-woven arms crossing and uncrossing, uncertain how to hold himself in front of so many people.

"We will begin with our dear Sage who has chosen the humble, but highly honored and important Root-Path of Apothecary. Sage, if you would exit the circle with me, and speak the Words of Growth you have decided upon."

Sage nodded and stepped forward, smile on her face as she looked out to those gathered and in a strong voice recited her words. "I, Sage of Kenosiwa Meshkwi-Mehtekwi Tepihiwewa-Oteweni, take on the Root-Path of an Apothecary now until my Winter Season. I vow to ease the suffering of others in the ways of Nature that are good for all living beings, Creator and Created. I promise to serve and aid all, regardless of nationality or blood to the best of my abilities."

There was a rustling of approval around the Sanctuary as the mehtosen gathered shook their leaf-filled branches and the humans drummed the ground beside themselves. Araceli partially unfurled her wings behind her and rustled her feathers in her own version of applause.

"I now also claim my Virtue Title that shall be mine forever more," Sage continued. Her grin widened as her eyes sparkled mischievously. It took all of Araceli's will not to groan as she realized the sapling hadn't been joking when she had told Araceli and the others what she wanted her Mature name to be. She exchanged a glance with Moss who's eyes widened and met Araceli's.

Oh you've got to be kidding me. She's not actually going to, is she?

Araceli didn't even have time to sign back before Sage's declaration rang through the Sanctuary with youthful glee. "I now claim Sage as my Virtue and shall henceforth be named Sage-Sage!"

Araceli and Moss rolled their eyes at her overly formal declaration and her choice. The one word that was both of Virtue and Nature, Sage-Sage had decided to double down. There was a hesitant silence through the sacred glade before someone cleared their throat and the rustling applause circled those gathered once more.

Faithful-Red's bark covered lips thinned though her eyes seemed amused as she nodded to the newly named Sage-Sage. "Very well, Sage-Sage. The Grove thanks you for your choice and greets you anew. May your Root-Path serve you as well as you serve it."

Sage-Sage stepped back into the inner circle as whispers blew across both inner and outer circles before Faithful-Red brought attention back to rest.

The other three saplings chose their maturity names as they stepped forward, giving their own vows and claims as newly matured mehtosenikwawi. Soon, Wild-Thimbleberry, Loving Lupine, and Compassionate Spruce were officiated and presented to the Grove with their mature names and positions. Only Wild-Thimbleberry had been confirmed to the druidic path as she had been able to pass the necessary tests to confirm she did have enough innate magic to begin her druidic training. The others would find one of the various other paths within the Towering Wilds if not the sanctuary-town they were raised in.

Araceli fluttered her feathers in rhythm with the shaking branches, leaves, and vines across the clearing. She fixed her expression into a happy one as she shoved down the feelings of jealousy and, as unfair as it was, betrayal. She was happy for her peers. Truly. It just didn't seem fair that she was still path-less and there was no likelihood of that changing anytime soon. She had lived among these people for as long as she could remember. She was of the Grove through and through. And it wasn't like everyone else was Mehtosen in the town. There were quite a few humans of course. Even some from far away who came to join years ago, some of them decades ago. But even they had their own versions of their initiation paths. They had a sub-culture all their own. They knew what they were and who they weren't. They didn't have to piece everything together and figure out how to mold themselves into ways that fit into the existing culture, there was already baked in for them and their differences.

Being the only pavox in the Grove, Araceli didn't know what was expected of her. She couldn't be a druid as that magic would never be hers to control, and certainly couldn't be a guardian— they had to be able to root themselves to communicate with one another across the Grove quickly and quietly in case of emergency. She had only ever seen others like her in short bursts when the traveling merchants came into town. The thought of it sent the young pavox back into her earlier worries.

Araceli had been enamored with other pavox as a child. When her wings were still youthful and fuzz-filled, and even later when her wings were still pure white in their pre-fledged state, the visiting pavox were enamored back with her. If she ignored the look of horror and pity they had upon learning that she became shell-shocked every time she tried to fly, it was great to see others that looked like her.

After her thirteenth year however, after she had molted for the first time after her Fledging and started coming into her adult plumage, things with visiting pavox changed. Their previous excitement upon seeing her shifted rapidly to cool detached stares or even outright hostility. She had been so confused when, seeing one of her favorite trinket-sellers and running up to greet her, the small blue jay had advanced with a dagger, demanding to know if the Grove had known they'd been keeping a Tyto-Alba in their ranks. She had screeched through the entire Grove about the peace and sanctity of the Grove being defiled with her presence until Chief Valiant-Sequoia had intervened and directed her out of the Grove. Araceli had never seen her once-friend again.

As the gathering dispersed, Moss glanced at their friend and threw a small stick at her wing.

"You Ok?" Moss signed with a small smirk as they attempted to lighten her mood. Araceli could still see the concerned furrow of their brow.