The Whispers Of Trees

2. When Things Go Awry

It was encroaching on a week since Orym's ceremony and Alea was beginning to find it difficult to keep herself busy without her husband's comedic comments or jokes that would often brighten her day.

Reading, which she often did in the mornings with a freshly brewed tea and at night, tucked into the bedsheets, seemed to have lost its fun, but where one door closes, another shall open.

That door took the form of writing, she had made it a routine of sorts to write letters conveying her daily moods, sealed within wax-sealed envelopes that she would leave on Orym's roots.

Sure enough, they would be gone by the next day when she would leave yet another after spending an hour or so beneath his shading boughs, talking and picking at the blades of grass that she would twirl mindlessly around her fingers, leaving herself to ponder the meaning of their lives as the birds whistled their cheery tune.

Alea still found herself being able to produce a hint of a smile as memories cropped up.

'silly, silly things' he would say in reply to important comments or situations. Many thought that he was a jokester and took nothing seriously, she had as well, in all honesty, when they had first met.

It had been an odd encounter and she could not get anything out of him other than jokes or comedic gestures, but over time, she came to realise it was his coping mechanism when he was unsure what to say or how to act. And she grew to love it.

The world was so wrapped up in its profound veil that few cared for laughter and instead, they set their minds on surviving and preparing for another war that she doubted would come.

Anyone would be mad to put Earth and its Sapling residents through another fallout.

With no knock, as usual, Faelyn wandered in through the front door, baby Aster bundled in her arms.

She came by every morning for tea with her mother, they would catch up on trivial things that didn't necessarily change from one day to the next.

Alea knew it was her way of showing her care and support, she was never one to be outwardly expressive, vocally at least.

Alea held out her arms, her daughter knowing what it meant as she handed over the newborn child.

Sitting opposite, Faelyn filled both of their cups with her mother's precious tea pot made by Orym, a yellowish liquid fell from the spout, a mixture of honey, lemon, and ginger.

"How was Pappa yesterday?" Faelyn asked, setting the pot down.

"I can feel that he is at peace, there is a stillness and a sense of calmness when I sit with him" she replied quietly, her eyes turned to the window that overlooked the whispering woods, her arms gently rocking the baby in his mid-day slumber.

She had always been a soul that found comfort and enjoyment in the solitude of woodland floors, or in the guidance of the trees, even in the wondering meadows.

She was a free spirit, one that many looked at with judging glances, for their superstitions and weariness targetted all who stood out from the normality of the Sapling people.

"I think Pappa is probably bored, you know how he gets. Especially after his oath to himself to not write the guidance in riddle form, it doesn't seem like he has a choice in the matter" Faelyn noted with a somewhat sorrowful smile, her eyes gazing past the side of the teacup and at the sealed letter on the table, nothing but her fathers name written on the front.

"You should join me today" Alea began, her eyes meeting her daughters "It would do you and Aster well to get out of the house, to see your father"

"I would, but I have a garden to tend to, the flowers need pruning and Aster needs another nap after his feed" she attempted to list.