Fallen From The Trees

Voices

Decades. 

Of course, all sense of time was vague and based on nothing, but it had to have been decades before the spirit heard something he recognized but couldn't quite place.

The sounds were different. It wasn't the quiet hushing of wind blowing through Tree's branches, wasn't the slithering of Tree's roots as she layered the entrance over and over, wasn't the gasping shudders of his sobs or panicked breaths. 

It was new. New was bad. 

The spirit sat in the center of the darkness, reaching out with both hands. He felt the rough walls of the Mother Tree all around him and knew he was safe. Trapped, but at least safe. The sounds would go away and he could go back to his dark eternity. 

But the sounds didn't go away. One of them stuck out among the others, brought a sense of fear and remembrance, but the spirit couldn't place it. 

Suddenly, there was a crack.

Blinding light blinded the spirit so quickly he was dumbstruck.

Covering his eyes, he backed away from the light until his back hit the wall. The sounds were louder now, concerned and soft. That's when he knew them for what they were. 

Voices.

"Are you okay in there?" Someone asked. 

"Who are you?" Asked another.

Was he okay? And who was he? What was his name?

He ducked his head. These people were bad. He didn't know how he knew, but they were. 

Someone swore.

"Connor," said an angry voice, "Get out here."

The spirit didn't recognize the name. The anger in the person's voice intimidated him and suddenly he didn't mind the darkness as much, wishing the roots back to cover him protectively. 

He inched back as far as he could go. 

"What's wrong with him?" Asked a voice, deeper than the others, with a thick northern accent.

"Who cares?" Answered another, sounding distinctly female. "I told him what I would do if I saw him again and here he is."

"Guys, maybe we should-" said someone who sounded younger than the others.

"Shut up, Jack." Three voices said at the same time. 

The spirit didn't understand the confusion. His legs slowly gave out. He found himself collapsed on his knees, head touching the ground, blood pounding in his ears as he tried to stand up. His breaths weren't coming to easily. 

There was silence for a moment. 

Oh, God.

"What's wrong with him?" Asked the the one who must have been called Jack.

"Get him out here."

"Okay, but don't hurt him or anything."

They wanted to hurt him? Is what the world was like now? The spirit felt he had been in the dark for so long he couldn't remember what it had been like once upon a time, let alone try to guess how it was now. It was possible that people, spirits, too, had grown to be more violent over time. 

Someone jumped into the hollow next to him. The spirit swallowed, freezing in place. He wasn't sure what he expected. 

Soft hands -- no, paws -- gripped his upper arm and pulled him to his feet. When his knees gave out again, the person sighed irritable and moved so as to support him.