Faerie Tales: Cloud Nine

     Each star was a diamond pin set into the dark curtain of night, signalling the close of another day. Aria sighed and shook her head as she let her hand drop to her side. Like the stars, the answers to her questions remained out of reach.

     It had been around two and a half years since she had left her childhood home to find her own way in the world. Aria loved Faerieland, but living there had no longer felt right in the years since Faerieland had fallen. Being an air faerie, Aria had an instinctive need to live amongst the clouds.

     She was beginning to question that urge. Lately, it seemed that Aria had more questions than answers.

     A muffled shout in the distance broke through her reverie. She forced her eyes away from the vast expanse of the sky, dizzying in its enormity, and steadied herself by peering at the glittering lights of the city below.

     Her wanderings had recently brought her to an isle off the southern coast of Mystery Island. It was a place of white shores, high cliffs and secret coves, and it was vibrant with activity. Although the island was small, it had developed into a sprawling port city that rose sharply from the ocean’s edge. Grand mansions stood clustered at the highest point of Krawk Island. Further down was a mix of modest houses and shops that was connected by a series of labyrinthine streets to the taverns, warehouses and piers at the waterfront.

     From the clouds, Aria could see how the wharves seethed with noise and excitement even at dusk. Dozens of boats were moored in the harbour, but most were tied up at the docks. Workers were busily unloading shipments and transporting goods into storage under the careful supervision of the dockmasters.

     Something white flickered in her peripheral vision, and she shifted her attention to a more remote part of the island, surrounded by jungle, with an empty stretch of beach. It seemed lonely to her, somehow, compared to the activity playing out at the piers. Forgotten. Aria swallowed as a tightness formed in her chest.

     But the loneliness of the shore wasn’t what had caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she could make out the silhouette of something pale, even ghostly, skimming over the shallows. Silvery notes of birdsong carried to Aria on the breeze, making her start. High and fluting, they had some unnameable quality that resonated on a profound level. She felt the knot in her chest loosen.

     In the morning, she made her way to the island as the first rays of the rising sun sloped through the sky and gilded the rooftops to gold. Aria hovered in the air, wings almost vibrating with nervous energy, and studied the beach. No footprints were visible, and she couldn’t see any evidence of anyone having been there. It wasn’t uncommon for smugglers or pirates to have hideaways stashed around the island, but this couldn’t be the case here. Items lay strewn around the sand, exposed and unclaimed. As she watched, the tide washed in new treasures from the sea. A wealth of coins and jewels glinted and flashed in the sunlight.

     Aria’s gaze snagged on something half-buried in the sand. It wasn’t a precious gem or any kind of material treasure, but it shimmered with a milky kind of iridescence that was beautiful all the same. She knelt and took the feather from the sand, admiring the shifting play of colour as she lifted it to the light. It couldn’t have come from a Kateil or a Palmplat. Kateils had emerald feathers and Palmplats had blue. It wasn’t a Pawkeet’s feather, either, but it had to have been from one of the Petpets native to Krawk Island.

     Lost in thought, Aria found herself humming the song she’d heard the previous night. She began softly, unsure of the melody, but her voice grew stronger as she gained in confidence and recognised something of herself in the song. Aria lingered over the high notes before she reluctantly set the last note free, feeling both fulfilled and regretful.

     A rustle in the trees nearby had Aria spinning around, startled. Leaves fluttered to the ground, and she shaded her eyes to see a small winged form peer at her and incline its head before it darted away through the branches. A snowy feather floated to the ground in its wake.

     Aria was in the air before she’d consciously made a decision. Overhead, the sun climbed higher in the sky as she flew through the jungle. Five minutes. Ten. Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of a white shape only for it to disappear into the greenery within the next heartbeat. Soon the foliage grew dense and the air, which was already moist, became heavy and fragrant with the scents of a hundred tropical flower species.

     Time passed, and morning became afternoon. Dew clung to the grass, and ferns caressed Aria’s ankles when she was obliged to walk. A stream ran alongside the winding path she followed. Sometimes the track petered out, vanishing amongst a tangle of moss and bramble, and left her to pick her own way through the vegetation. Leaves littered the ground with myriad shades of green and brown, and ivy covered the surface of every rock and boulder.

     Huge palms towered over Aria, verdant and leafy, with trunks that were unusually thick and dark. She noted how the trees pressed closer and closer on either side, eventually shutting out the sky. Krawk Island had a warm and sunny climate, but a coldness seeped into Aria as the sun disappeared behind the trees like a forgotten promise. She barely suppressed her urge to shiver.

     Aria stopped and turned in a slow circle, but there was no one and nothing but silence.

     She forced her eyes closed and inhaled a stabilising breath as she fought for calm. Her ears picked up muted sounds that had previously gone unnoticed, and she stilled as she worked to focus her senses. She became aware of the breeze rustling through the foliage and the music of a waterfall that bubbled close by. In the distance, she could detect the sound of Petpets calling to one another.

     She wasn’t alone.

     A single note of birdsong floated to her on the breeze, and its nearness compelled Aria forward. She traced the sound to its source, reading it like a map.

     Her heartbeat sped as she walked, and each beat sent a fresh jolt of hope racing through her veins. Aria’s pulse built to a crescendo when the thick copse of trees opened into a clearing. She breathed in the rich, earthy smell of the air and lifted her face to the light, blinking when she saw a shape emerge from the trees to settle on a nearby branch.

     It was a white Weewoo.

     Tilting its head, it regarded Aria with inquisitive eyes before it made a small, pleased noise. Her glance followed the extended line of its wing to see a colony of white Weewoos peering at her from their nests. She estimated there were at least nine hundred, young and old, gathered around the clearing.

     It had taken a measure of trust for the Weewoo to allow Aria into its home.

     Above, she could see the canvass of the sky turning from cobalt to rose-gold. It was still early, but the heavens were already clustered with the first stars of the night to come. She took a moment to admire the constellations winking into view. Her favourite had always been the Weewoo.

     A moment later, Aria felt her eyebrows pull into a frown. Several of the bright flecks appeared to be moving. She’d seen shooting stars before. She’d wished on them. But this was something far more gratifying to behold.

     Next to Aria, her Weewoo escort gave an insistent tweet that was echoed by one or two others in the clearing. Its chirping seemed to be some kind of signal because all movement in the vicinity ceased. Stepping forward, the Weewoo opened its beak and released a trilling note of birdsong that hung delicately on the breeze in the expectant hush.

     A chorus of “Wee… woo,” followed as the other Weewoos burst into song. Haunting and beautiful, the music swelled and filled the air to make the jungle reverberate with sound. It was a melody that spoke to Aria more eloquently than words. For a moment she could not move.

     She knew the Weewoos in the sky were being welcomed home just as surely as she had been guided into the clearing.

     Aria’s lips curved into a smile as she raised her voice to join the Weewoos in song. Her singing had a rich new depth to it because she could sense that she was part of something larger than herself. With a flash of insight, she understood that the Weewoos had helped her to rediscover the joy of being part of a community as well as the joy of flight and the magical places it could take her.

     Feathers rustled when the colony spread their wings as one and took to the air to meet the incoming Weewoos. Sunset turned white to brilliant shades of crimson and gold as the Petpets soared into the horizon.

     Aria launched herself into the sky, laughing as she spun in the Weewoos’ wake amongst the clouds. In that moment, she felt sure that she could transcend the vastness of space and touch the stars. It had been around two and a half years – or nine hundred days – but she had finally found where she was meant to be.

     The End.