Golden Girl

L Y N X

I fly over multitudes of cityscapes, watching in awe as the simple-minded mortals carry on with their day. Eventually, I land because the pollution begins to clog up my throat and makes my eyes water.

I land lightly, just barely brushing my toes against the soft grass of a nearby forest. Here, it's quieter, with only a single, winding dirt path. The sun filters through the lush canopy of leaves, and clusters of small wildflowers bloom along the base of the trees.

The trees in these woods are queer, I notice. Their trunks twist and turn, arching across the woods like they are dodging bullets. I set down my violin case gingerly and remove the precious instrument. Holding it up to my chin, I grab the bow and begin to play a song or two.

The trees don't sway to the music like they do back in Aisa. Most are still, refusing to budge, while others sway to their own, invisible beat.

"Lynx," I hear someone croon. "Come here, Lynxie."

It's not Cass, that's for sure. The voice is smooth and seductive, beckoning me to come closer, closer.

"Lynx," the voice repeats, and suddenly I realize it's the trees that are whispering to me. I set my violin down, and tilt my head back, staring open mouthed at the looming  oak trees.

"Help."

I dash through the maze of trees, trying to find the individual voice that speaks to me. Which tree is it? The oak? The maple?

It's a weird forest, filled with various types of trees, some tall, some short. Some are red and gold, most are green.

I skid to a stop as I find myself face to face with a small tree with red blossoms. My violin is long gone and panic fills my stomach, but something makes me hold my ground. I reach out and caress the bark with trembling hands. Trees may dance, back in Aisa, but everyone knows trees can't talk.

I chuckled to myself. "Silly, silly Lynx."

I spin around and nearly bump into a girl.

The girl, small and fair, doesn't look up at me. She is examining her golden-brown skin, flexing her fingers in amazement. She touches her hair gently, brushing the red blossoms that have somehow entwined themselves into her hair.

"H-Hello," I manage, forcing a polite smile. 

The girl screams and runs away.

Mortals are strange creatures, I conclude.

Sighing, I trek back to the clearing, hoping desperately that my violin isn't broken or damaged in any way. I had left all my money back at home, and I didn't think mortals took pebbles as a currency. The instrument was irreplaceable anyway. I was an idiot for leaving it there in the first place. 

The trees no longer speak to me, but they continue swaying to their own mysterious beat.