Among the Birches *NaNoWriMo 2013*

Salt Spray & Darkness Deep

The beach on the west shore of the island was always imposing. It was not quiet and serene, as the beach was where Kya's canoe lay, tied to the others. It was beautiful, yes-- but in an almost ferocious way. It was the wildest part of the island, as if it had been just barely tamed by the good elves and humans which first set foot on it in ages past. It was the last part of the island that many who had died had seen while alive. It was a place where destinies were forged or twisted.

In the shallow surf, there was a large, wide stone with a small flight of stairs leading up towards it. To cross the water, one had to hop from boulder to boulder-- some reaching down terribly deep, for the water wsa not shallow and, of course, the stones had to touch its bottom. Along these boulders were positioned guardhouses, both to light the path in the evening, alert the townspeople to invaders, and ensure the safety of the people who passed to and from. Elves-- and sometimes humans-- took turns in small groups to man the towers, and often they would sing songs to wish the travellers luck along their way, all the while vigilant with eyes turned out to the rocks and sea. It seemed as if an echo of their song was still in the air, gone rancid. An unusual fog covered the stones after the first and stretched out into oblivion. Kya had never seen so much mist, unaffected by the violent sea's waves, which sprayed harsh water onto the rocks and, when Kya had climbed to the flattened stone top, her legs.

It was very hard to see the stones in front of her, and her going was slow. The night stretched onwards, and Kya became overcome with fatigue. Not wishing to waste the Birch leaf tea and unable, anyhow, to build a fire in the damp, she climbed the next watchtower she found and settled into the cozy bed which normally would have a guard resting in it. Outside, the wind-- or was it?-- howled lowly, and something sounding like sharp cries pierced through the fog. Kya listened for a while and then wrapped the thick blankets about her and slept.

The night air inside of the tower was cold, and in the night, a thick shell crashed through the window, breaking it and allowing the wind to rush in. Kya shivered, woke briefly and rose to see the window. The glass had shattered in many pieces, leaving little left in the pane. She saw the shell on the floor and guessed what had occurred. How? Some careless gull that lost its meal to the wind? The birds on the island are polite and well-bred, but it could be that those here are different. She tried to block the wind by placing a large stone tablet just in front of the window. It helped, but still the air was colder now than before, and, besides, she could hear even more of the odd calling which came from the dark water. Though it terrified her, it lulled her back into sleep.

Kya dreamed that she was atop of the highest point on the island, looking out. A glorious sunrise came from the east and travelled the arc of the sky above her until it lay in the west, as a sunset might. But there, on the western side of the horizon, it turned a firey red and then a deep, foreboding purple-black. As it fell, the green of the mainland scorched, then burst into flame, sending licks of fire into the ocean and onto the island. The ocean engulfed the flame, pushing it down to the seafloor, and then sent it up again, transfigured into dark, long tendrils which wrapped around the guard towers and stones, threatening to uproot them and throw them into the sea. A dark form, a kind of head, rose in the ocean off to the left of the stones, it let out a terrible screech which matched the wild noises that Kya had been hearing from outside of the tower.

When she awoke, it was day, but still it was too, too dark.

"I must hurry," she told no one. There was a darkness present which the island had never seen before. And still there was a howl, fainter than at night, which Kya longed to escape.

She travelled as quickly as conditions would allow her, hopping from rock to rock as carefully as she could in the deep fog. Her sure feet ensured that she would not slip, but the rocks were dangerously coated in water and algae, which would have been the death of any but an elf. Once, when she had passed through along this trail, she had admired the bright blue of the water stretched out around her and the pleasing juxtaposition of clean grey boulders and towers with the water. Birds had flown overhead, cawing hellos, and lute and guitar music carried her on. She sang while she walked, then, and said hello to the few travelers-- merchants, mainly-- who passed her by. She was going, then, to meet with an elf counsel during the festival of summer. She danced in ceremonies and in celebration, and then met to tell of the developments on her island: relatively commonplace things, like the population, the health of the forest, and the state of the fauna; as well as more important things, like the visions of the seers, the worries of the Elders, and the health of the Sacred Birch.