Whisper to the Wind

(4) The Vy'n

Whisper groaned and her eyes fluttered open. They were sore. Every bone in her body was sore. The slightest twitch in her body would bring a searing sensation to every molecule of her being.

The harsh light crept through her cracked eyelids and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut again. Cautiously, she opened them again and glanced around at her surrounding and blinking the blotches out of her vision.

She didn't recognize the room she was in. It was small, almost the size of her pantry, but large enough to fit a bed and a stand in the room. There was a tiny window in the corner which allowed light into the room.

Wincing, Whisper eased herself up to her elbows to view the world more. As she was sitting up, a plump woman waddled into the room. Her green hair came to her ears and then curled up. Her eyes were such a dark forest color that they appeared to be black. She smiled warmly at Whisper as she entered the room.

"Well, well, look whose awake," she woman continued to smile as she walked towards the stand and grabbed a damp cloth. As she approached Whisper to set the cloth on her forehead, Whisper batted the woman's hand away and immediately flinched. That was unlike her.

"Where am I? What happened? Where is my mother," The questions all came pouring out as the memories came pouring in. The men attacking her mother and her mother telling her to run. She had run into the forest and ran even faster at the sound of men behind her. Her legs ached and screamed at her and the rain stung her face with every step. She continued until the sounds of the men were gone and a small gate to a garden came into view. As she approached the gate to enter the garden, exhaust overcame her and she collapsed to the ground.

The woman stopped and stared at Whisper. Her harsh action hadn't seemed to affect her.  

She stepped forward again and placed the cold damn rag on Whisper's forehead. This time, Whisper reluctantly let her.

"The Master will be here any minute now to explain things to you. I only came to check on you. Now," she handed Whisper a cold glass of water, "Drink this and then lie back down and rest. You had a hard evening." Whisper took the glass and glanced at the woman. She smiled down at Whisper and then left the room on her stubby legs.

Whisper didn't even take a sip of the glass before setting it on the wash stand beside her. She didn't feel like doing anything. All she wanted was to find her mother and stay safe in her arms. Her heartbeat quickened as she began to wonder what had become of her poor little sister, her father, or her mother. The thoughts began to turn Whisper's stomach inside out.

The door to her room flew open and Whisper jumped, caught inside her thoughts and worries. Looking up, she saw an older man standing curiously in the doorway. His white hair was slicked back against his head. His milky white eyes seemed to be reading straight into Whisper's soul. He appeared to be very old. His tanned skin was weathered and wrinkled, but it added a certain look of wisdom to him. Misty tattoos lined his face and hands. At first, Whisper thought they were just regular tattoos, until she saw the mist swirling. In his left hand he held a tall brown wooden staff.

"Good morning, my dear. I was informed you were awake. I hope you are feeling alright." Whisper stared at him with pure confusion written on her face as he shuffled towards her, leaning against the staff for balance, before settling himself on the end of her bed.

"Who are you," She replied rather harshley. He didn't seem to notice the edge in her voice, or if he did, he ignored it. He only stared warmly at her with those milky white eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. Whisper twitched her eyebrows and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

As if suddenly realizing where he was, he jumped and shook his head, chuckling to himself. "My, my, I seem to have forgotten my manners," placing his hand aganist his chest, the old man bowed his head and said, "I am Master Vy'ndarr, although many of the students call me Master Vyn. I am the master of this academy."

Whisper knitted her eyebrows together and closed her eyes. "Master... academy... what?" It was all too much for Whisper to wrap her head around. Only yesterday, her and her sister had been chasing each other through the meadow. Now, she didn't know if her family was alive or dead or what had happened to her village. She was too far from home. "What academy? Where am I?" Whisper shouted, her voice quivering and her eyes threatening to tear up again. Master Vy'ndarr only smiled at her as he leaned against his wooden staff.

"Please, try to calm yourself, dear. You are alright and all of your questions shall be answered in time, but right now, I need you to answer some questions of mine before I can be of any help to you." Whisper sniffed and lowered her gaze. She was careful to take three deep breaths - inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth as her mother had taught her - before nodding her head. "Good. Now, what is your name, child?"

Taking a quivering breath, she cleared her throat and hoarsely replied, "Whisper," She could tell Master Vy'ndarr was straining to hear her from him shiftly forward slightly. "Whisper," she repeated, louder and clearer, although the quiver in her voice was still there. Master Vy'ndarr nodded.

"Alright. And where are you from, Whisper?" Whisper paused a second while studying the man's face. Her eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to think to herself, Where am I from? All of those memories came flooding to the surface of her family, friends, neighbors, enemies... All in the small woods that she called home and were not gone. 

Clearning her throat and looking down at her cracked and calloused hands, Whisper muttered, "Ripplewood." The pause in Master Vy'ndarr's conversation worried Whisper and she snapped her head up to look at him again. His milky eyes held great sympathy for Whisper as she looked worried back and forth between those pupil-less eyes. 

"My dear, I apologize deeply for your loss." Whisper's mouth dropped a few inches as Master Vy'ndarr leaned forward and placed his hand warmly on her tightly clenched fists. "I am truly sorry." 

The words didn't make any sense to her. It was as if he was speaking in a foreign language and she could tell he was saying something that should sadden her, but she couldn't comprehend what he was actually saying to her. And words didn't want to come out of her throat either. 

"What... loss," she asked in a hoarse whisper. She was too frightened to speak loud and clearly and she knew that the old master had heard her for his bushy white eyebrows fell on the edges with his sad eyes. Master Vy'ndarr released Whisper's hand and reached up, steadying himself against the wooden staff for support, even though he was sitting down. 

"Do you remember anything of the night you came to us, dear Whisper?" Whisper nodded her head slowly, still straining to understand what he was telling her. That small voice in the back of her head was telling her that she knew, she just didn't want to listen, but the voice at the front of her head was telling her to ignore the small voice. "Rippleville..." Again, he paused and studied Whisper. He was choosing his words carefully for the sake of the emotionally delicate child, "Is no more." Her expression remained the same. "The small village was burnt to the ground. Our Life Ways have found no living in the town and no intact buildings." That was when it began to sink in.

Her family was dead. Her father. Her mother. Her sister. Mouse was gone and it was her fault. She hadn't even had a full life. Master Vy'ndarr's words slowly sank into her mind until they hit the center of her emotions and she felt the tearing of her heart string as that small, innocent face of her little sister appeared in her mind, followed by the horrifying images she couldn't stop of her family and people being slaughtered at the hands of ruthless killers.

She was harshly jerked back to reality when Master Vy'ndarr placed his hand on her's again and squeezed. "I am truly sorry, my child." The old man lowered his gaze from her redenning eyes before lifting himself slowly off the bed and shuffling out of the room without a second glance at the girl. She needed space. 

As soon as she heard the click from the door, closing in place, Whisper slid down her bed until her head was back against the pillows. She laid there, staring at the cracked stone on the walls and watched as a mouse skittered into her vision, sniffed, adn then left again. Not a single tear fell from Whisper's eyes that day, but inside, her heart had hardened so much, she would not shed any tears for many years to come.