Bloom

37: The Forest Has Its Roots

In one cunning remark to Dante, Tulip turned around to the gorge and yelled out,

"Suck it up, buttercup!"

Before traversing into the forest.

Now comes the next challenge of the trip for them: tree roots. Small ones wind and make intricate webs and bridges this way and that. Large ones make it nearly impossible to walk through. Overhead, sunlight tries to break through the thick leaves but to no avail. The ground below remains dark. While easing the adrenaline, Tulip tries to remember the rest of what Pepper said. Then it hits them: didn't Pepper say there would be bird noises?

"... up the stream there are distinct bird calls that sound like singing angels. Follow the bird's noises, and there should be a forest."

They try to recall the sounds they heard earlier; from the waterfall, to the wind blowing between the grass shoots, to Dante's cursing that would make any god shove a bar of soap in his mouth. No sounds came from birds. Perhaps they got the directions mixed up? However, they mentioned how they have photographic memory, so why would they miss something? Ack! The pain from their back distracts their focus, so they decide to sit by a large stump to rest. Their gaze falls to their injured hand. The pain died down, and all that's left is the same pattern; a green spiderweb that stitched itself back up. What is this? And why is it green? When they touch it carefully, the wound feels like sandpaper with a sticky texture. All over their body, including their tunic, is covered in the green sap. It glows faintly. They dread seeing what they look like right now.

Suddenly, they hear a distant noise overhead. A melodic harmony weaving in and out of the forest, like an angelic choir. Oh. Those must be the birds. They look up in search of them, but the thick leaves nearly blanket the sky. It's an eerie sight. Once the pain from their back calms down, they stand up to continue their walk. The top of their head almost hits a thick root.

Every which way the ground is covered in tree roots of different shapes and sizes. They try their best to snake around, over, under each obstacle. If only I were a python, this would be no trouble. Their feet come to a screeching halt when their tunic catches onto a root sticking out. All at once, they timber over and land with a hard thud onto the ground below. The tunic tears on the right side.

"Ouh," the air escapes their mouth.

Their knees become scraped up due to landing on a barbed plant. The pain jolts them awake. As quick as they can, they scoot away from the plant and take another break. Now their knees are green, too. The sap pours like syrup, a green mucousy slime. The pain is almost unbearable for them. Eyes dart around the forest. Other than the unique root designs, the forest looks the same in each direction. They press a tight knuckle to their forehead.

What else did Pepper say? I feel like I missed something...

Their whole body is afflicted in pain. Throbbing from their back. Sharp jabs on their knees. Aches all over. They badly want to tear out the sprout from their back, but know it's not a wise idea. Damned stupid curse! They close their eyes, press their lips firmly together. Tears start to well. If ever the chance Dante happens to find them, they know at this rate they wouldn't have the energy to run away, let alone fight back.

Their ears pick up the singing again. Only it sounds closer. It forces their eyes to open, but not a wing is found. Still, the melody continues. What could it be saying? It seems to act like a direction. They rub their eyes. The song gives them enough strength to follow.

Along the ground, wind shudders plants. They've noticed no flowers are present in the forest, likely due to the lack of sunlight. The singing guides them through while they climb over a large root in the shape of a tangled bow. As they move along, they notice plants are glowing a haunting blue. Flits of light that twinkle like stars sway with the breeze. It's somewhat peaceful to Tulip, but the lingering pain from their back strays them further from peace with every passing second.

Suddenly, the singing stops. So Tulip stops, too. Their eyes look amongst the glowing plants. The environment is unfamiliar to their forgetful memory. Then they look up. Only small holes pierce light through the forest. Tulip pulls their knees to their chest and hugs them. They want to cry.

I miss Pepper.

For as long as they can remember they've been used to loneliness, but not even that lonely feeling comforts them anymore. They look back at the path they trekked to only see an empty black. It reminds them of the room they were imprisoned in. Where Pepper would always visit them...

Crack!

Tulip freezes. They're alerted to the sound of a snapping twig. Even though they can hardly see anything, their eyes still look between the plants, the shadows, everywhere. Then they hear the flap of wings. A sigh of relief exhales from their mouth. It must've been the bird. A few seconds later, the singing resumes. After Tulip gives their back another brief rest, they stand up to carry on following the noise. They don't know how long they've been stuck in the forest, but they hope it's not for much longer.