Aeolia

28: Southward

"Where are we going?" Ravine queried as she followed behind Frost, his pristine paws slogging through mud. 

     Just minutes before, Autumn had conjured a downpour, of which Winter scattered with hail and snow. The earth grew soaked and agitated. Summer demanded its share by brightening the sun and sending fleets of dragonflies to indulge in the mud from Autumn's storm. Now the insects hovered around Ravine's ankles, curious. She crushed one under her heel and tucked it in the cradle of her arms, for Spire to eat when he awoke.

     "We are going to the south," Frost replied,
     "Where the Dreamfisher lives.
     It is a kingfisher imbued with something greater
     Something nostalgic, something surreal, something like a daydream.
     And while you were asleep
     Autumn won over Winter and sent a swath of leaves
     Sweeping from the south, as if to flout its victory.
     But these leaves, Ravine—
     These leaves were round and green and vibrant
     And I could only interpret them as an invitation
     From the south
     From the Dreamfisher
     From the forest of stars."

     And so the pair began to walk through the mud, dirt flecking their bodies. Summer bogged the sky with humid clouds, gathered together and thrumming with energy. Premonition hissed under Ravine's skin, and then the storm began. It was like nothing she had ever seen—or heard, or felt—in her life.

     Electricity filled the air with agitated impatience. The tolls of thunder were ominous, timed with strikes of lightning—synced yet discordant; two symmetrical songs, one a fraction behind the other. And the lightning—it ranged from white to red to amethyst to blue, in any form or fabric. Ravine traveled with her eyes to the sky and felt a sort of magnetic pull coaxing her in the opposite direction, drawing her north. But she pressed southward; she could tell that the whisperer was anxious.

     A few minutes later, white web crackled inches above Ravine's head, as if attempting to capture her—yet her hair remained unsigned. She thought this phenomenon remarkable, but Frost seemed immensely troubled. He whisked his tail.

     "The being in the north is upset," he said, with wide pupils.
     "It knows we draw close to the savanna's end
     And near the home of the Dreamfisher.
     We must improve our paces
     If we want to reach sanctuary in time."

     Ravine frowned. "Sanctuary?"

     Frost glanced upward, as another white web of lightning branched across Summer's sky. "Yes," he said. "Sanctuary."

     They continued, and Autumn grew angry. Soon rain lashed from the crepitating clouds, soaking the earth once again. Ravine wove her arms tighter around Spire as swamps puddled at her feet. Frost was up to his stomach in the churned water.

     "Keep walking," he shouted through the music of falling rain.
     "We are nearly out of Seasons' Spiral.
     I can feel the unbalance weakening
    And giving way towards still."

     Ravine shielded her eyes against the water that streamed down her face and could make out trees, ghostly tall, standing in the near distance. She felt again like crying. She was so thankful to be almost out of this harrowing open savanna, where the seasons fought like animals.

     As the line of trees drew closer, Spring finally made an appearance in the battle of weather. Sweet and dusty scents, akin to petrichor—but more floral—wove through the rain, which lessened to a steady drizzle.

     Ravine smiled. "Spring!"

     "No," said Frost, as they stood in the shade of an enormous tree, facing the north, "that is not Spring's doing.
     "That is the perfume of the star-trees and their fruit.
     See, now we are not in the thralls of the Spiral;
     We have crossed the line into sanctuary.
     Out before us, to the north, the weather rages.
     Spring is the weakest of the seasons,
     I have observed.
     At a time like this, when Autumn
     Has clearly sealed its place,
     Spring would not dare interfere.
     Yes, now we are untouchable.
     We are safe from the Spiral
     And the being in the north.
     Come with me to the forest.
     There will we meet
     Our Dreamfisher."