Tortoise and Fox [BL]

5.1

The forest was alive again.

Who am I?

The single thought strung along his existence.

Him, he.

Who was he?

Verdant green took root. The moss and mildew. The hushed whisper of rustling grass. Flowers rising forth from the ground. Sunlight kissing his skin.

Memories trickled in. Seasons. Endless summers, endless winters. A rainy spring. A stormy autumn. Conflict bled him. Sticky wet iron dried like rust on his skin. Joy nourished him. Bathed in a warm, misty lake.

I am alone, confused. Unsure and weary. Desperate and longing for affection.

I am angry, isolated. Desiring stability. Praying to unknown gods for meaning in a life cold and dreary.

I am broken, healing. Biding time. Navigating pain from long, long ago—pain that continues to haunt me.

I am guilty, liberated. Free from chains. Weighed down by sin untold from a world beyond my own.

I am...

The first thing Sen awoke to was the taste of iron in his mouth. Stricken by panic, he jolted off the bed with a hoarse grunt. His eyes darted around the room.

Sword. Where was his sword, where was it, where was it—he had to protect...

Protect the forest.

At the sound of childish shrieks, Sen's shoulders drew impossibly stiffer as he pressed back against the corner of the room like a caged wild animal. The pitter-patter of feet stumbled farther away. Two bright voices loudly spoke, unable to control their volume.

"The adult woke up!! He woke!!"

"It's because you scared him, Phi! This is all because you banged against the door. We weren't supposed to disturb him!"

"B-but," the other voice began, wavering with tears, "you said it wouldn't hurt to take a peek... that he wouldn't wake up today of all days."

"Who's there?" Sen hoarsely asked.

The voices went silent, then the defeated sound of dragging feet filed through the doorway. A pair of children with guilty expressions fidgeted in place. The older one had fire-red wavy hair. Her scaly tail drooped, dragging across the floor in a crestfallen S-shape. The younger boy had tight, frizzy black coils and a thin hay-colored tail that wrapped around his waist.

"I'm Minh, and this is Phi," the red-head announced. Phi stared at her with wide eyes, seemingly appalled at how loud she spoke.

Sen inhaled a slow breath, releasing the tight knot in his shoulders. The air was unmistakably fresh—like pine and fresh clay. The wispy tickle of pollen threatened his nostrils. Compact dirt was damp underfoot. The thrum of growth surrounding him was the lifeblood of spring—the realm he had spent eons in.

Phi pulled on the hem of Minh's robe, brown pointed ears drooping as he refused to meet Sen's gaze. Minh glared fiercely, but her small frame trembled, as if fighting the urge to shrink back.

"My name is Sen. I... didn't mean to scare you. I'm easily startled."

"You've been sleeping for a whole week," Minh said, her courage reignited. She took a few tentative steps closer. Her curiosity far outweighed her initial caution. The same could not be said for Phi—he hung back, peeking past the door frame.