Acari

Chapter Four

Mango fought the crowd to get to the front, where he had the delight of seeing Acari and Aphid standing in the midst of two dead, bleeding bodies.

Acari didn't know what to say—to either of them. Mango, left aghast at the scene right before him, and Aphid... wasn't she the one who made the lamp that she'd seen earlier?

It was only then that she realized the copious amounts of blood on her talons and at her feet, the two bodies that lay on the ground, and the mass amount of dragons gathering to see: what would Acari do next?

What would Acari do next? She wondered. She never had thought of what she would do if the situation got out of hand. It was kind of like: dragons make you mad, you kill them, and then you save the world, type-a thing. But never did she think so many dragons would come out to see "why".

Before Acari knew it, her legs were moving, her heart was racing, and she was flying to... where? Back to their hut, surely? But she didn't think that when she went flew out of the ministate and back towards the hill. Her wings kind of had a mind of their own now, and she could tell they weren't going to stop if she didn't stop them.

Acari landed on the hill and immediately slumped into the tall grass. Hidden. No dragon was following her. Or that's what she thought. Her muscles wouldn't move anymore as the adrenaline shifted into tiredness. She felt infinite numbness inside her as she stared into the grass and inspected the way it looked. Green, pointy, tall. Wet, muddy, flexible. Often stepped on and forgotten.

Did Acari think of herself that way? That she was just a small part of something much bigger? That she could easily be plucked away and forgotten just like that?

Her mother easily gave her away to a dragon she'd never known; she didn't even try to fight for Acari or Mango. Papaya didn't even try to go searching for her. The other RainWings wouldn't have cared at all, not even Clover. Acari was simply plucked out of their lives and thrown into another patch of grass.

And what about Java? Mango? Her own mother? They didn't care enough to come look for her, to check if she was okay right now, to tell Acari she meant something to them. But as she waited and waited quietly in the tall grass on top of the tall hill, nobody came. Nobody came to check if she was dying or dead. To check if she was missing, to tell her she was missed.

Nobody came.

The sky was painted a mix of red-orange and blue-purple, the two colors intertwined with each other and dancing in subtle harmony. Stars were beginning to shine through, growing impatient at the sky's slow dance. Clouds watched the dance in awe and reflected colors of bright orange and dull blue. Night was setting in and Acari was still on the hill.

Acari desperately wanted to leave and check if the others were worried about her and if they cared somewhat, but her muscles never lost an argument. She lay and watched the ever so slow falling of the sun, and thought about how big sky rocks also needed to sleep. The sun would replace the moon in the morning and the moon would replace the sun in the evening. No one could stay awake forever.

And it was true, that no one could, because as she succumbed to the quiet nature sounds of occasional chirping from birds and little scuffling of the sand from passing rabbits, Acari finally fell asleep.

It was midnight. Everything had a faint blue or white glow, giving it a calm, tranquil look. Light winds tossed and turned the short, blue grass while surreal, white birds sang in a hushed tone. Flowers that looked like dandelions in the early spring were dancing along with the grass, the wind guiding them along the way. The only sounds to be heard were one's own; quiet was too minor of a word for this picture.

White, glowing, transparent-looking dragons gathered around on top of a small hill. It seemed as though they were talking—their mouths were moving, some had expressions of confusion or anger, and their talons displayed pictures that were to flow along with their words—but only murmurs would escape their weary mouths. Their eyes captured sadness, anger, joy; all possible emotions compressed into one vessel, all displaying at once, making it impossible to see the line between expression and emotion. Their wings were always held low, almost like they were always sad or tired, but they sat up straight with everlasting confidence, looking ready to plunge into war if needed.