#yaro

The veridian trails of fleeting winds danced across the sky, humming a tune heard only by those with the keenest of ears. Their echoing howls could instill fear in many, understandably so; for they possessed an indescribable strength that most cannot see. The wind, invisible yet ever-present, makes its existence known. And so did he.

A young man observed a little bird struggling amidst its peers, likely on its first winter migration. Judging by the coloring of its feathers, it’s only just recently gained its flight feathers. The roar of the wind sends it spiraling backward, away from its flock, despite its desperate attempts to catch up.

His golden eyes watched passively, a glint of concern piercing through the veneer of impartiality that he often wears. With the slightest twitch of his index finger, an upward gust lifts the struggling bird, allowing it to glide back within the flock.

"I can only help you once, little thing. You’ll need to find your own way now."

The flock moves on, becoming a gradual fading view in the distance, the young man's gaze drifts downward towards the meadow. Within moments his feet touch lightly down unto the damp grass, the morning dew clinging unto the blades. He stands there for a moment, drinking in all the glories that the morning brings.

Sounds of birdsong, the rustle foxes tussling in their dens, and the gentle murmur of a nearby creek fully enveloped him. The serenity was strikingly beautiful. These isolated sanctuaries, untouched by the grasp of mankind, stood as testaments to nature's splendor. 

Yet, not everyone could fathom its beauty.

In his state of serenity, his mind drifted off to distant memories of his past. 

He reminisced mainly about his childhood; the family expeditions into the unexplored, his father documenting nature's marvels, his mother's explanations, his sister fighting the urge to touch everything and then there was him. Drinking in the splendor of it all. Filled with the joy of discovery. Traveling soon became second nature, the feeling of being an outsider akin to a second skin. 

To him, the world beyond seemed endless, filled with wonders waiting to be unraveled. Traveling with his family felt like it was just the way things were supposed to be, seeing others staying in one place felt almost comical. Did they not know the wonders of the unknown? That the world is so much wider than their little hamlets and crowded cities?

He smiles briefly, longingly looking up to the sky. Ignoring the faint whisper in the back of his head, reminding him that wanderlust is what drove his family apart. It's the reason his sister is gone and his parents no longer can even stand the sight of each other. The once perfect happy family, broken and lost. It’s truly a pity just how much time can change things.

He sighs; raking his hand across his head, pushing several of his thick dark chocolate locs back out of his face. He hates to dwell on the negatives, desperately trying to block them out and maintain the happy facade that they never even existed in the first place. 

Denial, his closest friend.

…

….

…..

Maggie is so full of it.

She thinks she knows everything and figures that just because I’m young that I know nothing. I'll prove her wrong. David's favorite flowers grow high on the mountainside, so I'll climb up from this meadow and gather them myself— that will shut her up. I've come prepared, equipped with everything in order to show everyone that I’m just as capable as anyone else in the village. I am my father's daughter.

I'll achieve this today and continue to do so from then onwards, repeatedly. Being the youngest in the family doesn't hinder my ability to accomplish what everyone else can. As I trek the trail up to the meadow, I sweep my eyes over the mountain base, seeking a suitable place to start climbing. From the corner of my eye, a tangle of unruly black hair captures my attention. Peering closer, I discern a tall, lean young man with seemingly golden eyes.

They're captivating—almost hypnotic. Clearly not anyone from the village, his features exude a welcoming warmth, an unfamiliarity that makes him intriguing. Alone in the meadow, he gazes skyward. Following his line of sight reveals nothing. As a soft breeze brushes against me, and when I glance back, he's gone. Did I imagine him?

Well, I guess it is still rather early, I could still be half asleep. I rub the tired from my eyes and set my sights on the highest point I can start my climb from and make my way there. I ready my rope and look over my gear, everything is just as good as it was last night when I prepared it. 

I am more than ready.

Scaling the rock face, I recall my father's teachings. Gathering herbs from the neighboring mountain ranges sustains our village. 

It's our way of life, part of our culture, most can even breathe the thin air as easily as we do. 

If I fail, perhaps I don't belong here.

I affirm my hand and foot placement before I commit to them, I observe my surroundings and access all possible options, and I take my time; I can do this. About several feet up and as the sun begins to lower from its high point in the sky that my prize is within my sights, a handful of Edelweiss grow along the edge of a ridge. I shuffle myself closer and smile as I enter a distance where the flowers are within arms reach. I open my satchel and make room for the flowers to safely be placed when I make my way back down. 

Perhaps it was in my haste to reach for my prize that I didn’t notice how loose the rock that held them was. I foolishly place my weight purely on one foot as I use all of my arm strength to pick them. The rock gives way and crumbles, making me swing backwards and sent flying quickly downward. The ground comes rushing forward so quickly, I barely have enough time to even scream. Tears prick the corner of my eyes and my mind quickly flashes to different points in my life, nothing congruent or clear; just the faces of the people I love.

"Oh Lord, please!" I manage in those fleeting moments before impact.

.

..

…

I feel a sudden gust of wind. An ephemeral chuckle echoes, accompanied by a flash of golden eyes. A brassy voice as smooth as honey whispers, smooth as honey, "I can only help you once, little thing. You’ll need to find your own way now."

To my surprise, I get to open my eyes, lying nestled near the mountain's base, cushioned by a bed of grass, facing the serene meadow. I can’t believe it—I should have been a shattered heap against the rocks, yet here I am. I look around, seeing nothing but a peaceful meadow. 

Completely silent, save for the sounds of crickets, birds and the rustle of the wind against the trees fill my ears. Was it a dream? I vividly recall scaling the mountain.

And yet? Here I am.

Perplexed and uncertain, I rise, readjusting myself. It's midday, and I should have returned to the village by now. Have I truly wasted the day, dreaming of what I was so set on doing?

I slump over, trying my best to repress the childish tears borne of disappointment in myself. Maybe Maggie's right about me. Perhaps I am nothing more than a naive child.