Seekers of Light

Three - The Valley

AYAME

Ayame held on to a branch firmly as she allowed her feet to dangle dangerously beneath her. She had always been fidgety, but she knew her body was restless because of the wind -- tonight was more chilly than usual.

She leaned forward and allowed herself to look down. She shuddered. The height from which she would have fallen, when a commotion between two beasts unbeknownst to her jolted her awake earlier, would have resulted in a cracked skull and several other broken bones if it weren't for her quick reflexes. Although the fall could not have killed her, whatever injuries her stupidity would have earned her, she would have had to tend to all of them by herself, alone, with just maybe a few twigs and the extra clothing she'd wrapped herself with.

If grandma found out that she had hurt herself by sleeping on top of a tree, again, she would get mad -- she was always mad -- and Ayame would get beaten, again. None of the beatings hurt anymore but Ayame despised all the yelling - it often felt so full of hatred. Seething hatred. What could have caused a woman to be so passionately agitated by her? Ayame had no idea.

This was not the first time she had fallen asleep on this branch. She loved this spot so much. It was the perfect tree, with the perfect limb. It gave her the best view of the horizon -- the only place where one could see some sunlight leaking to the sky, that is if they were lucky.

Nevertheless, whether the sun was peeking or not, there was always light on the horizon. Sometimes it was blue, or green, or red, or a mix of all colors imaginable. Most of the time it was never strong enough to bring light to her homeland, but it was still a splendid sight for her. Out of her own observation, Ayame concluded that whatever this light was, it glowed brighter the dimmer the moon shone.

Tonight, the horizon was tinted with crimson rays, with the moon looming over like a watchful eye.

All around her, the darkness was too consuming. If it weren't for the glowing amber pendant hanging from her necklace, as well as the abundance of fireflies, the area would be pitch black and she would have to feel her way out of the forest. Getting lost in this god-forbidden-vastness-where-you-could-not-see-a-thing was not a rare occurrence; in fact, it used to be a frequent consequence of her carelessness as a child. But ever since grandpa gave her the pendant as a gift, Ayame was free to be wherever, whenever.

He asked her to keep one thing in mind though -

"Never let grandma know about the amber. Never. Pretend to get lost in the forest every now and then, if you must. Just never let her know about it."

Ayame had never seen the sun, not even as a child. To her, the sun had always been hiding. Every time she asked her grandpa, he said he could not remember the last time he saw it either, but that he remembered clearly how it used to rise every day. Because of this, Ayame never doubted its existence.

She and her grandpa judged the time of day by other things, such as the coldness of the air and the movement of the wind. Fog indicated dawn, comforting warmth signaled noon, and extreme cold and wind told her it was time to go home because the creatures of the night would start roaming and cause her trouble.

Right now, the wind had started dancing wildly around her while another beast roared from a distance. She knew she had to start her way home.

With a swift movement of her hand, she took her scarf off and looped it around the branch. Taking a deep breath, she gracefully leaped to the clearing below. Ayame smiled to herself as she landed softly.

"Perfect," she whispered. Though the piece of cloth helped slow down her descent, she knew it was largely due to the wind that she landed safely from that formidable height. The wind had always been her best element.