Begin Again: Part Two

      Lukirri looks out into the night, backpack heavy with dried food, fresh water and a bigger map. She stands alone, but alone and enforced, with a firm idea of what she’s doing.

      Well, not EXACTLY what I’m doing. But sort of.

      For the first time she can remember, Lukirri feels hope. Hope that she can do this. Hope that she can do it right. Hope that her memories really are out there. Hope that she’s not all alone, strangely even when she IS on her own.

      Maybe beginning again isn’t so bad after all.

      Lukirri sips her water with a vigorous smile. It’s time to do this right.

      Lukirri shivers as she ascends.

      She is heading deep into the mountains. It feels like the stars are rising about her as she ascends, the night sky beautifully flecked with pinpricks of light and cloudy purple depths. Frost glitters on ancient grey stone beneath her feet and at the walls around her.

      It’s a very very good night, Lukirri decides. Even if her skin is numb and her muscles are stiffening and bunching and all that’s keeping her alive is the Draik-fire in her lungs and she’s really, REALLY not built for this, it’s a very very good night. Maybe it’s because Lukirri has seen nothing like this before, or maybe it’s Lukirri’s optimism fixing to be the end of her.

      Lukirri shudders. She has to stay focused. This can’t be the end of her. After all, she’s heading deep into the mountains. It’s too late to go back.

      She folds her wings close to her body for warmth. She’s not going back. She has firewood, anyways. Something to burn. If she needs to take a rest, she won’t do it in the cold.

      Her fingers wander up to the Lupe tag necklace, with the feather charm attached. She wasn’t going to wear it, but then she discovered a small hole in the bottom of her bag, and didn’t want to take chances on losing it. Besides, underneath the scarf from the Vandagyres, it’s easy for her to hide.

      She casts her gaze up to the sky. Fuzzy snowflakes glide to the earth, and the half-moon shines blaringly. Wisps of grey smoke weave up from somewhere in the distance.

      Wisps of smoke? Lukirri snaps out of her wistful observation. She might not have to use her firewood after all, yet.

      She stretches her wings, makes sure her burdens are secure, and takes flight. She’s ready to find someone to talk to about this.

      A dark spruce cabin hugs the side of a mountain spire, supported by no more than a web of wooden scaffolding. Purple-tinted shingles coat the pointed roof. Smoke spirals upwards from a chimney hewn into the mountain.

      Lukirri shivers from an opposing peak. She stands on an overhang, with swirling drifts of snowflakes filling the space in front of her. But hopefully she won’t have to be out here for much longer.

      She leaps, spreads her wings, and soars easily with her wingspan. She crosses the ten yards to the cabin and lands neatly on the porch.

      With a shudder, her wings fold up, again bent at her sides. Lukirri shakes out her headfins, wipes the snow off her face, and bangs on the door’s metal knocker. After several moments, it creaks halfway open.

      A surprised Bori peers out at her.

      She's stocky. And has big ears, her stiff magenta hat perched lopsided because of them. She has shaggy, very dark purple fur, an eyepatch over one eye, and baggy clothes.

      "…Hi."

      Lukirri awkwardly opens a clawed hand in a wave. "Hi… I'm Lukirri."

      The Bori's features quickly contort almost as in pain. It lasts but a second, so briefly that Lukirri suddenly finds herself wondering if it even happened. The calm Bori looks away. "…What are you doing here?"

      "I-I'm looking for my memories. I have amnesia, and I think I might be on the right track? I don't really know what to look for, though. It could take awhile."

      The Bori steps back. She opens her mouth as if to speak, and her lower lip quivers anxiously -- but then she flicks her door shut. Lukirri thinks she hears her stomping away inside, as though running. Lukirri, stunned, slowly steps away. And she flies back across the gorge, defeated.

      Lukirri shivers once again. She's going to spread her wings and soar, as soon as another wind picks up. Not too strong, though. She doesn't want to be tossed around like a toy way up in the air, at the mercy of every change in the wind.

      No, all Lukirri needs is a breeze.

      But for now, she has to keep her limbs in, and stay warm however she can. She is tired of lying to herself. She is sick of this climate. Of the cold, of the desolation, the frustration of staying alive. She already misses the warm fields of dandelions that she’s beginning to associate with herself.

      But most of all she hates being alone. It’s boring, and it also feels wrong on a deeper sense. If she’s discovered anything about herself, it’s that she loves spoken words and new faces. Not because she’s had much of either, but because she feels a profound longing for both.

      Lukirri chooses to head into the woods. Burly pines and sloping cedars shelter her as she descends into dark, rocky terrain.

      She feels defeated, but gradually more restful and accepting of the rejection. She got her hopes up that the cabin bid her help, and now she’s facing the whiplash.

      I’ve had my first victories. That was my first defeat.

      She unloads her bundle of firewood, builds a stack, and lights it with a puff of her breath. Staring into the red flames, she drowsily stuffs the last of her dried food into her mouth. Not even swallowing it, she passes into a deep, cold sleep.

      When she awakens, the sun is passing through rolling clouds, and the snow is falling gently. Lukirri grumbles, crawls up to the dying fire, and makes numerous attempts to rekindle the glowing logs. She scratches the bark and chomps down on the thinner logs. Even though the heat feels good to her Draik mouth, it doesn’t grow the fire. She finally takes a deep breath and lets out a small plume of flames.

      The logs blossom into red life. Lukirri slumps her head down onto them with a sigh. She hates to admit it.

      She’s out of food.

      The weather coaxes Lukirri into another nap and she again wakes to a dead fire. The logs are charred black, so she decides to gather more wood. She breaks some nearby branches and slips large pieces of them into the mesh bag she carried the other wood in.

      She puts down her backpack and the wood. She’s going to fly above and scout. If there was one cabin there has to be another, right? She wouldn’t be turned away if there was nowhere else to go, was there? Lukirri thoughtfully flaps into the air, above the trees, and begins to circle the area.

      The bushy green forest seems to extend for a few miles, before ending at mountains jutting higher. Lukirri doubts anyone can live up there – after all, the Bori’s cabin is pretty high as is. She pivots to look at the other areas. The trees peter out to icy fields and back to mountainous terrain.

      Lukirri lands with a disappointed sigh. She packs up the wood, making sure it’s secure, and again bears her own small bag.

      She’s going to look for food. But she doesn’t know how much longer she can last.

      “…Hey.”

      Lukirri looks up from a scraggly berry bush she was eating out of.

      It’s the Bori. She sighs and straightens her hat. The brim of it shadows her face, but her one eye still looks out from beneath. Over her shoulder, she carries a broom.

      “Oh! Hey…” Lukirri tilts her head. She gets on her hind legs to try and look less pathetic. Cheerfully, she asks, “…What are you doing out here?”

      Fyora, this is awkward. Lukirri gets a feeling that the Bori lives alone. And really doesn’t like visitors, although she knew that much already.

      “…I came to look for you.” The Bori keeps her gaze fixed on the ground. “I don’t think it was fair to turn you away.” She moves the broom so that she’s carrying it behind her in both hands. “…I don’t know if you noticed, but… there aren’t exactly a lot of places to rest around here.”

      Yeah, I noticed. “Does this mean I can stay with you? Until I’m prepared to move on, or I’ve found my memories?”

      “Y-y-yeah. Can you fly?”

      “Back to your cabin?” Lukirri unfolds her wings all the way. She feels weary, but answers, “I can make it as long as the weather holds up.”

      The Bori frowns and nods once. She takes out from behind her back the broom, and mounts it.

      Lukirri starts, “Wait, are you a—“

      “Are you coming or not?” the Bori tugs on her hat a couple of times as though securing it. It is rather pointy…

      “Yeah, I’m coming.” Lukirri paces up to her and flaps her wings in place. “And… thanks.”

      The Bori narrows her eye.

      Her lip twitches, as though she’s almost, almost about to smile.

      And then she’s off on her broomstick, leaving Lukirri scrambling to catch up.

      The flight back to the cabin is cold and windy, but Lukirri has little idea of what else to expect. Her mind is not with her as she tumbles and soars through the wintry sky, instead settled in some warm place. Like what warm place, Lukirri doesn’t know. Probably that same old dandelion field.

      Her lack of memories begins to really irritate her. She guesses she had been someone who had a lot of experiences and frequently called back on them, because now she feels like she keeps grasping for something that isn’t there. When she is focused on something besides her amnesia, she feels more whole, like she has an army of experiences behind her. But when she stops to glance through that army, it suddenly all flies away and leaves Lukirri alone and frustrated.

      The Bori bobs up and down through the air on her long broomstick. Lukirri feels a jutting humiliation as she realizes the Bori has to slow herself down on purpose so she doesn’t lose Lukirri. I’m not that slow! Under normal weather… Lukirri’s cheeks begin to burn. She lets them – in this weather, she seriously needs the warmth.

      Finally, the dark cabin on the side of the mountain reappears. The Bori angles herself and takes a slow dive down to the wraparound porch. Lukirri swoops down gracefully, if quickly.

      The Bori bangs her broom on the floor a few times. Clusters of snow fall from the straw. She shoots Lukirri a blank stare as she wordlessly opens the door and disappears inside. Lukirri snorts, trailing after her.

      Lukirri steps into a huge cubical room, lined to the ceiling with shelves filled by endless books, glass globes, statuettes and trinkets. A massive chandelier glistens gold in the air. A single dark, ornate rug full of swirling patterns covers the floor

      “Wow!” Lukirri flops onto a low red couch. “This is big!”

      “…Yeah.” The Bori mounts a bronze riding ladder attached to the shelves. With the slightest push, it effortlessly glides a few feet along the room’s perimeter. Lukirri stares in awe at the device as the Bori uses it to browse the shelves with ease. “You look really involved,” Lukirri says.

      “Mm-hmm.”

      “I… guess that means I should leave you alone?”

      “Yes. You should.” The Bori finally looks at Lukirri, but this time her stare is firm. “Down the hallway, second door on the right is the bedroom. You can use the bed for now and make a fire in the fireplace. Don’t touch anything else. I’ll see you around bedtime.”

      “Alright, alright. Guess that’s more than I can ask for. Except... your name.”

      “Pardon?”

      The Bori purses her lip in resolve. Lukirri knows she doesn’t need to be told again.

      The Bori turns away and hangs her head for a long moment.

      And then: “Hedera.”

      “Hedera? That sounds spooky, like a Haunted Woods name. Is that where you’re from?”

      “Yeah. Sure. That’s why I’m a witch and that’s why I have all this magical stuff. Now if you could leave me alone for awhile, that would be just… great.” The last word lands scathing and sour. Lukirri furrows her brow, giving Hedera a pitying glance as she walks down the hall.

      She doesn’t buy it. Sure, Hedera hasn’t acted sincere, like, at all. But Lukirri is suddenly completely sure that Hedera isn’t from the Haunted Woods.

      She decides to go back and spare Hedera a moment. “Guess I’ll see you at bedtime.”

      Hedera, face buried in an open book, doesn’t reply.

      To be continued...