Men & Monsters

Rosy the Rusalka

Finn had asked Eira to accompany him on a morning stroll, to which she obliged. Friendly though he was, there was still something unnerving about walking alongside such a large creature in the foggy forest. She took her chances, however. Otherwise, her only other option was to wait back on the river's edge, where an equally large but less-friendly dinosaur might happen upon her.

As they walked along, Finn pointed out that the worn path they traveled on was the work of countless beasts over centuries of unchanging migrations. Everything from colossal duckbills to tiny raptors took these highways, and as such, it didn't surprise Finn to see a pair of ostrich-like gallimimus, their feathers flared from the cool morning air, trot toward them and go about their way.

As the fog seemed to retreat back into the dark crevices of the forest, Eira looked around, making out golden beams of sun beginning to break through the mist and enlighten the emerald forest. Just in time for the birds to begin singing. It suddenly occurred to her that as she listened to the world around her, she could distinctly hear familiar birds like jays chirping, but there were calls quite foreign to her. Ones that she had never heard before.

When she set her sights on the forest canopy, she saw a flying squirrel dart from tree limp to tree limp. Upon more intensive inspection, however, she saw that it was no squirrel. Eira was puzzled until the morning sun shimmered along its jet black feathers. Utilizing its feathered arms and legs, the small dinosaur did just what a flying squirrel might, gliding from one tree to another while snatching up insects in midair.

She must have been a lot farther from home than she could have imagined, now that nearly every animal here was so different, and yet so alike. The grazers, the scavengers, the predators, and now, with even the tiny opportunists, each niche was filled, only the animals that she'd been used to growing up usually had fur, not feathers.

"Can I ask you something Eira?" Finn asked. He had slowed his pace down so as to get a better look at her and that they might walk and talk as equals.

"Of course."

"Tell me, what are your thoughts on life? Yes, yes, I know. It isn't a question one might ask but to a friend of numerous years, but you've had me wondering, puzzling, at everything I ever knew about the world around. I confess that I hardly had any sleep last night over it. To see life through the eyes of something such as yourself. This entire encounter is...simply fascinating." Finn finally came to a casual halt, his eyes cast heavenward toward the streaks of sunlight. With a smile that emulated the sun's warm embrace, he looked back down at Eira, awaiting her reply.

To be frank, she was caught a bit off guard by the question. A finger came up and prodded at her chin as she fought to form just the right words in her head. Never the tactful one, such a question as this proved especially troublesome. Finn offered a bit of relief with an apprehensive chuckle and beg for apology over it, but sure enough, Eira looked up.

"I...I dunno. I mean, we're here." She gave a weak shrug with her left shoulder. "We grow up, survive, teach our children the same, and we pass on. I don't mean to say life is that blunt, or, really, that plain." Her shrug was followed with a smile. "I suppose it's true what Papa always said, in that life is one big mystery. It's up to us to find out what it's about."

"Your father seems like a wise man." Finn felt his grin widen as he sighed aloud. "Even in your philosophies you Green Folk seem humble. Such a relief from the radicals preaching this or that 'til their throats are sore. You know Eira, I'd like to hand a piece of my own beliefs unto you, if you'll let me."

"Of course, Finn." The two smiled warmly to one another when the spinosaurus raised his head and looked from the trail into the woods one way, then to another. A moment of silence passed, when he lowered himself down, so that his hands could just barely scratch at the soil. He spoke just above a whisper, as if his words held an especially heavy weight with them, again with that coy grin.