Whispers of Nowhere

Chapter Twelve: Part Three

It took Phenex no time at all to trek up the narrow, dirt path leading high up into the hillside forest, one he had known well so many years ago. He weaved between the groupings of young maple and pine to reach the spot he'd been searching for: a large sedimentary boulder sitting at the base of what had to be the oldest oak tree in the entire forest. Never had he felt so relieved to see that at least one aspect of his past had remained the same.

Well maybe not the same, exactly. The tree was a great deal larger than when he'd seen it last, and given how big it had been before, that was saying something. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, "Untouched", completely unsullied by the hands of humans. Either way, it brought him comfort, and with everything having gone wrong as it had today, that counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

He glimpsed the littering of acorns and leaves strewn across the forest floor, most of which were in a state of decay. He could hear the gurgling of a creek nearby, the small stream nestled at the foot of the hill just on the opposite side of the peak where he stood. Beyond was a row of silver birch and ash trees, silent guards at the heart of the forest. Wild hawthorn bushes were scattered throughout, their bright red berries complementing the dark green foliage of their leaves. The occasional wildflower could be seen poking out amongst the assorted saplings, sprigs of heather and blue forget-me-nots waving lazily in the midday breeze.

Between the warm forest scents and the calls of the birds high in the trees, Phenex began to relax. Contenting himself with settling on top of the boulder with one knee drawn up to his chest, he leaned against the oak's sturdy trunk, and tilted his head back to stare at the canopy overhead. The veins of the leaves stood out as the sun filtered through them, pouring pinpricks of light onto the forest floor.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and allowed his surroundings to permeate his every pore, drinking in the sun's warmth until all that existed for him was the hillside forest bordering the small English village.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Gwen's face popped to the forefront of his mind, unbidden, piercing through the shroud of peace that had fallen over him upon entering the forest; the illusion shattering at the precise moment the rain started to fall. When had the storm clouds he'd seen far off in the distance gotten so close? The wind hadn't been all that strong—had he fallen asleep without realizing it?

It wouldn't be the first time, he thought, sighing. Why does it always end up raining after I've been in an argument? If he hadn't known any better, he might have thought it was one of the gods' doing. But he did know better; Zeus wouldn't trouble himself with something so tedious, and nor would he bother influencing the mortal realm's weather as he once had.

Or the weather anywhere else, for that matter.

With the storm came yet more thoughts he had hoped to avoid, rising to the surface of his mind like bubbles. First he had hurt Forneus, and now Gwen—and after she'd made an honest effort to get along with him, no less. Why had he gone off on her like that? He'd been angry because of the corner they'd been backed into, not at her. So why? Why couldn't he control his temper around her? Yes, she was a human, and humans were known for some pretty horrendous things—but Gwen hadn't done anything to him personally. Maybe she deserved a good tongue-lashing every now and then, but what he had done had gone well beyond that.

And that she most certainly hadn't deserved.

What did it matter, though? She was a human. So what if she hadn't done anything to him? Given more time, who was to say she wouldn't? Maybe her kind started out innocently enough, but the closer they got to adulthood, the less they could be trusted. After all this time, had he still not learned his lesson? He swore he'd never get close to another human being again.