Alternatively

To Be Human (i.)

From her touch flourished forests and restored life to all in her domain.

Her eyes held all the years past and would continue to collect the years to come.

Deftly woven by her command, time stopped and the mortals were desperate just to catch a glimpse of her majesty, desperate to be granted with a moment of timelessness. They left her gifts in return, precious gifts of fragrant incense, bronze mirrors, and ivory combs. Such items lined the forest perimeter, untouched by thieves, travelers, or herself. She had no use for mortal treasures, practically nor aesthetically.

There were more important things to tend to.

The wind had shifted and she could sense it as she patrolled, sense the growing cold.

The emptiness.

Immortals didn't overlap, didn't often leave their territory to cross into another's; centuries have been known to pass between beings coming into contact with each other. Still, their energies would lace through the air, thrumming and bold across land and sea. To reach out and feel nothing was unheard of, so she had first needed to come to grips with the fact that yes, the immortals were disappearing.

Disappearing, not dying, but vague curiosity blanketed her duties. As the energies snapped out of existence, she waited, listening. She needed information, needed to know what to expect and how to destroy it before it destroyed her. She waited until one day, there was nothing left.

She did not feel as the mortals did, could not feel so recklessly, so worry did not descend. There was no sadness in knowing she was the last, no lust for revenge or desire to seek retribution; without a lead, there was no sense in abandoning her forest to go on a warpath.

Perhaps, she mused, they just weren't as strong as me. Weren't as smart.

Because she was smart and oh so clever, guarding her territory with layers of traps and misdirections. There wasn't a greener patch of grass than in her glens, wasn't a clearer stream than the one cutting through the handsomest trees. The animals were balanced and the air sweet and it was all owed to her.

Perhaps, the others just weren't as strong.

Time passes around her and while the humans didn't know she was the last, they knew to fear her land. Knew that to hunt in her forest was to sign your own death warrant and understood the inexplicable rarity of her territory. So then why was a man knelt at the boarder, prying gifted golden rings and silver hair pieces from the earth?

That vague curiosity stalled what would have been an absent minded curse and she watched with bemusement as he stuffed the offerings into a ratty bag. A strange young man, seemingly unaware of the grisly demise he had stepped into.

And when she appeared to him, snowy down and golden talons, he was awestruck in the way only someone of no knowledge of her could be. He stumbled through his excuses, insisting he'd return the gifts and just wished for safe passage to the east.

"I meant no disrespect," he had implored, offering back the stolen gifts with earnest eyes.

She was impervious to earnest. There were rules, reputations to uphold.

"Look, I'm giving them back, just please let me go."

"Let a thief go?"

Frustration flashed across his face and his aura flared. "I'm not a thief."

"Were you not just stealing from me?" she coolly replied, tucking her wings close. "Is that not thievery?"

"It's not the same, I needed-"