Spontanéité

Man of the earth 🔹 snapshot

It isn't easy to see them from here, so far away, so far below, and the attempt is endeavoured by only very few. One of the few sits on the window-ledge, back leaned against the cold plastered stone, head turned outside, outwards and upwards. It is only dawn, the early shafts of light beginning to warm the stone as they filter through the open window into the room. It's cold in here, the fire having died in the night and neither of us having yet kindled another one for the morning. But he doesn't seem to notice as he grips the curtain in his hand.

"How long have you been awake?"

He turns at the sudden sound of my voice. "Not very long," he says, but we both know that's a lie. He turns back to the window. "Go back to sleep," he murmurs.

I wrap my cloak more tightly around myself, then tuck my hands in my pockets. "And you?"

He sighs. "I don't sleep."

"And I do?" He doesn't respond, and I pad over to him, perching next to him on the ledge.

Far above and beyond, higher than the summit of the Citadel's mountain, there are flickers of shadowed silhouettes, soaring, circling. They look like birds. They look free. They look like they could soar on and on and on until they reached other worlds of Peoples.

The Children of the Airs.

Envied by almost all other Peoples, there is a reason they have chosen to isolate themselves on the mountain for eras and eras. I glance at him. He may be one of only few to attempt to see the Children of the Airs' flight from within the Walls. But there are so many here that would love very much to ascend the mountain, enter the Citadel, and take flight themselves. Himself included.

"What did you dream?" I ask softly.

He turns from the window, sighing. "There were these great big birds, with golden beaks, white head-feathers and huge wingspans. Circling. As usual, I don't know where or who I was. But I remember them, with their feathers the colours of earth and gold."

Some days, when he tells me what he dreams- some of the dreams recurring-, I know there must be something. Something, some kind of reason for him to desire the taste of flight. It isn't some sort of strange fancy, neither is it a hungry greed carried by some of the other Children of the Earth. No, his desire is a yearning that comes from somewhere within himself, somewhere he can't reach.

"What were they called, do you know?" I ask. In the mornings after his dreams, I try and coax as much as I can out of his memory before it all slips away. I store the information in my mind and my heart, and I hope one day I can piece it all together with him. There are things he can't remember, parts of his memory blurred or lost.

"Guardians." I store this too. He sighs, leaning forward to kiss my forehead before returning his feet to the ground and standing, releasing the curtain.

"You know we'll figure this out one day," I say. It isn't very convincing, but he attempts a half-smile anyway.

"Sure."

I hear his footsteps fade, and I lean my head against the stone, pushing the curtain aside. I can't see them anymore. They must have descended back to the Citadel. I suppress a sigh. The missing fragments of his memory have haunted him all these season-cycles. He has seen over twenty of them now and has no more idea of them than before. If his parents or any of his kin were alive still, maybe they would know, but his parents left him. He doesn't remember them. My uncle cared for him instead, but he died of illness several cycles ago.

We'll figure this out one day. Won't we? We'll figure out why this Man of the Earth yearns for the Airs. Why he looks beyond our Fortress of the Lands to the mountains.

In the kitchen, I can hear the soft clatter of dishes and the gentle splashing of water. "Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice muted by the walls.

I turn from the window and stand. "Sure."

I glance back outside past the curtain, past all the houses packed together, past the paved streets the horses and carts are beginning to walk and roll over, past the sprawled fields and orchards and feeding-spaces for the livestock, past the huge and towering Walls. In the distance, the mountains. Above the Citadel, the wide and open sky where men and women soar over the Airs with birds. Guardians.

Is that where this Man of the Earth came from? Is that why he dreams of flight?

He calls my name.

"Coming." I turn away with a little shake of the head before leaving the room. 🔹