Birdsong Silence

Birdsong Silence

CHAPTER 1



She gazed at his rippled reflection through clouded eyes, pondering nothing but the distorted figure in the water; always more reachable than the man himself. She never could connect with him in that form. He wondered gently about her soft face; pretty, yet somehow jagged – a diamond in the earth waiting to be extracted, caressed between warm fingers, smoothed and polished and newly exposed to the world by her master. He longed to reach out to her, feel her huddled body yearning for love, look into the dark thoughts behind her eyes and fall upon the source of her sorrow; fix the broken well of emotion.

Larka ran. As fast and as hard as she could, she ran. She ran through the undergrowth; ran between overbearing trees that snagged at her thick, disorderly, icy blonde hair and tattered, stained clothes, trying to hold her back. She ran through the clearing, startling two scavenging crows as she became entangled in the snapped rope trap. Over her father's angered calls she heard the crows take flight, cawing back at her with malicious laughter that mocked her own fright. After loosing herself from the serpentine tendril, still panicked, she continued running until she reached the edge of the dell leading onto the back of her father's small, dishevelled house. As she neared the pile of firewood she had collected previous to her wanderings, she slowed, exhaustion replaced adrenaline. Her frail frame, almost void of flesh, very nearly deserted her, if not for the sharp reminder of the whip cracking across her back.

*

She perches atop the weathered rocks, autumnal threads infiltrating her awakening senses, making her perception of the world about her new and exciting. The flaming reds and oranges, and the golden browns of the leaves littering the earth fill the thoughts behind her icy blue eyes. She sees more than the colour; she sees the birth of the little buds in spring's first movements; she sees the growth and blossom of buds into leaves throughout summer's reign; and then, amongst the season of fall, the scattering of demise. Her eyes continue searching the area about her, and as she rests upon each new scene, something new grapples for her attention. The scent of decaying foliage mingles with the sweet, fresh crispness of early morning, intoxicating her mind. A skylark swoops effortlessly through the air, his liquid chirrup and chime ringing out across the land, wrapping Larka in a blanket of lyrical comfort that she does not shrug off until long after both lark and she have left. As she leans back on her hands, listening to the birdsong, she feels the cold stability of the stone beneath her. Its solid mass seems for a moment as though it is the only reality in an otherwise surreal existence. All these sensations envelop Larka in her own being, and this sends sparks of thought running from the dark recesses of her mind to the pen still nestling in her hand. She picks up the notebook from her side and opens it at an empty page and writes:

What cruel, unhinged happening has blackened your heart,
Destroyed your soul, desolated your mind from the chart
Of your body? Why do you weep in the dead of night,
Stare at the world and hate his indifference with all your might?
How do you feel when they remind you of it?
Do you want to shout of your wrong-doing and spit
At his feet? Take his head in your hands and crush
His skull until his blood and brain may gush
And spill? Where would you go to escape your woe?
A nightmare world, enveloped in abhorrence of your foe?
But who is he, the one you despise, but a mere fool
Of envy, spite and revenge, awaiting your own cruel
Backlash of pain, dealt on him excruciatingly, sevenfold,
So he may realise the bitter upset you withhold?
When will you forgive, forget, understand what he did?
See his words for those of a weak man, appreciate how he hid
Behind his utterances, fearful of you and your hidden strength,
Your over-bearing will and ability to stare coldly, harshly at length?
Will you come to realise one day that he knew not
The hurt he caused; the hatred that thus burned within so hot?
Will you – can you – go on blaming him for your failing?
Or will you accept that your mind has been straying
From your own personal blame, that you are the cause
Of much of your pain; if only for a second you may pause,
You may allow such a notion rest on your brain,
And your tears of realisation will fall like rain.


She reads it through in silence over and over again, until she can remember every single word, every syllable, every pause, every feeling. And it pains her. Guilt rests upon her like a covering of ash after a forest fire; fine little particles that seem as though they will simply wipe away, but instead always leave a mark. Larka knows she will never speak of it. Not even to the open air. But her thoughts manifest themselves on pages, waiting to be read. Though she knows too no one will read these, for she hides them well. She moves once more, this time so she can see herself in the water that gathers itself about the base of the rocks. A crisp day, she can see the clear blue sky beneath her, and the trees swaying their branches atop the surface of the water. Larka looks on nature's mirror, and notices, almost for the first time, her own blossoming body. It puzzles her. Not last week she was a mere child, and now, now she is on the pinnacle of womanhood. Perhaps, she pondered, perhaps this is where it all changes. For better or for worse, I cannot say. And right then, it did.
Eyes. Bright, shining amber eyes peered out at her from the depths of the water, or so it seemed, for as she sat up, the gentle flicker of fur caught her arm. The warm, bloodied breath of the creature trailed all around her. The slight click clack of claws reverberated through her, its magnitude intensified not for fear, but for hope. As sharp-toothed jaws opened and reached for her neck, Larka lost herself in their distant intimacy; physically together, yet worlds apart.

"Maxence," she whispered softly. "Ha-have you come for me?"

She turned slowly to face the majestic, silver-grey wolf and her longing eyes lock onto his. Everything about them becomes silent and slows almost to a stop as the electricity between them intensifies. He searches her face with unseen eyes, looking for a sign that she is ready for what may come. Confused, Larka throws herself once more to the water's edge, looking desperately for whatever Maxence saw, but she sees nothing.
"It is there, Larka, I am sure. Though you hide it well."
"What is there Maxence? I see only my face!"
"I am satisfied, so you should be."

And then, he turned tail and was gone.