The Boy Who Danced on Water

Welcome to The Tree

I looked into the boys, they were calm. He smiled comfortingly at me. I relaxed, and tried to gather my thoughts. I survived. I was alive, and the river was...parted? 

The boy fumbled with his belt, sliding his hand around the leather on his waist. His eyes were squinted in frustration. His jaw was clenched and he was angry. I moved back from the boy.  He noticed me moving away and softened. 

He reached his hands out to me, "Hey. I'm not mad at you. I-um-" 

Before he could finish I was isolated from him. Sitting on a soft bed of wet sand. The river was flowing in a circle around me, leaving me dry. The water was still parted around the boy too, so he was also standing on dry ground. 

"Hey listen, kid. I left my knife on the rock, I was going to use it to cut the ropes off you. I know it's real hard to do that-" He points to the split in the river "especially untrained. And I bet you are exhausted." 

I nodded weakly. I was tired, I have never been more tired in my life. He went to step closer to me, but the river pushed him back. I took a deep breath, he was not going to hurt me. 

The water slowed around me. It was calm and the fish came back from under the rocks. The boy smirked and wadded his way through the knee-deep water. I attempted to stand, only to fall again. 

"Can you keep the split open just a bit  longer?" He asked. 

"I'm not making the river split. It just is," I retaliated. 

The boy let out a humble laugh and lifted me off the squishy sand. He asked me to tell the water to split to shore. In my head I pleaded the water to let us through, and it did . 

The boy flipped his rusty-brown hair from his face, and he made his way to the grass. I was still cradled in his arms. The ropes around my wrist burned, and the ones on my ankle scrapped and dug into my flesh. 

When the boy walked on the grass high blades of grass sprung from under his feet, and then they shriveled up after he stepped away. The boy placed me down on a smooth, clean rock. 

Sitting next to me, the blade glistening in the sun, was a knife. The hilt was wrapped in thick grey and brown cloth. My heart sank when the boy raised the blade above his head, and slashed down. The rope on my ankles fell to a pile on the muddy grass. 

I whimpered at the condition of my skin. It was a deep red- almost purple- color and had cuts strewn about it. The rest of my legs were a shade of blue. My fingers traced up and down the raw flesh. It was sensitive to the touch, but I examined it regardless. 

The boy extended a hand and pulled  me to stand. I rolled my wrists and stretched each finger. It felt like a new found power was pulsing inside me. We made our way into the thicket of trees. Colors swirled around me, birds kippered, and toadstools were gossiping among themselves. Pixies and sprites chased one and other in a game of tag. 

"So...tell me about yourself. You have a name? We can't call you kid forever." 

I nodded shyly, "My name is Coda Hemmings. I'm nine-" I was interrupted by the remark of the boy. 

"Nine! You're so old to be an offering. I came when I was 5," He shuttered at the memory. 

"Do you have a name?"  I questioned.

 A warm, full laugh came from the boy, "Yes I have a name! We all do, you, me, Bell! My name is Cyrus. It's nice to meet you Coda."  

So many things were going through my head, who is Bell? What happened to  the river?  

I wanted to blurt them all out. All the questions I had were on the tip of my tongue, willing to come out. I kept my lips clamped shut. I could feel my eyelids falling and my legs weak. 

My knees buckled and my head kept spinning. The corners were doted with black spots. I looked down to my hands. They were pale and shaking.  I closed my eyes and tried to even out my breathing. 

The boy-Cyrus-lifted my body off the ground and put me on his back. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around my waist. He was piggy-backing me. My head drooped onto his shoulder as we walked. 

"Sleep now, kiddo. You used a lot of energy today."  

My eyelids drooped and I fell into a comfortable sleep. The steady pace of Cyrus' steps just pulled me  deeper and deeper into sleep. The sun on my back was like a warm blanket, and the whistling of the wind was a comfortable music. 

By the time I woke up the sun was close to setting. Behind a range out mountains the sky swirled with pinks and oranges.  Stars peeked out from behind trees, and the day was coming to an end. I untangled the white, thread-bare sheets from around me and made my way out of the room. 

I crept down a long white hallway. Pictures of kids, a boy and a girl, hung on the walls. I grinned and attempted to find my way. Following down the hallway I came to a large circular room. 

Two couches were pushed against the walls, one being a dark red color and the other a nasty green. In the center of the circle a desk was placed. Maps of the area was hand-drawn so carefully on it. 

The off-white carpet was fluffy and comfortable under me. I jumped a little when Cyrus cleared his throat from one of the couches. 

"Hey sleepyhead! You slept for like hours." 

I blushed at that, I never nap. I'm not a baby anymore. "Sorry," I grumbled, "I typically don't take naps, I'm a big boy ya know." I attempted to apologize for falling asleep.

A new laugh came from the other side of the room. I whipped around to see a girl standing in the door frame. She had dark eyes and long jet black hair. It ran all the way to her lower back. 

"The names Bell," her voice was soft-but she was clearly trying to sound tough, "Welcome to the tree."