Gabal

Chapter 1

Leaves cast dancing shadows across pale skin as the hunter peered through the ever-changing spaces, searching for the elusive prey. Sharp eyes watched for any sign of movement, well-trained muscles coiled, ready to spring into action. The predator was on a single-minded mission, refusing to allow another escape. Her honor depended on her next action, the nuisance had alluded her long enough.

She shifted silently, ever vigilant, waiting for--

Before her brain could truly process the movement, she was already darting forward, limbs poised to claw, ready to put an end to needless destruction. A triumphant cry left her as she made contact, quickly withdrawing, the prize in hand. Her wriggling prey brought forth a toothy grin as she gazed down, proud and blithe now that her wait was over.

The stupid horned worm that had been terrorizing her prized tomato plants was no more! She did a little jig on the simple cork path that led those it did not like in confusing, nonsensical circles around the overgrown space. It did a wonderful job keeping unknown factors far away from the humble house at its center. The little woman plucked her trusty satchel from the damp undergrowth, its contents rattling, before sticking the whole of her arm in and rooting around for a specific jar. A pleased hum left her as she withdrew the quart-sized Mason jar, complete with a few leaves, some sticks, and a fitted mesh lid. Inside, other worms of the same kind resided, waiting for the weekend farmers market, where she would sell them for a few cents each to the little boys with lizards at home, dragged to the otherwise boring event by their mothers.

Satisfied with her work, she replaced the jar, shouldered the satchel, and started the short trek home. The cork path flowed easily forward, understanding her intentions and forging the quickest path home for her, plants easily moving and bending to aid in her speedy return. The little woman sighed happily at her garden, sending out her joy and appreciation through nimble fingertips as she brushed along the passing foliage. Her aether traveled through the network of roots that connected every living flora and fauna her modest garden hosted.

The shrubbery parted moments later, revealing her small, cozy a-frame cottage. The light of dusk cast long shadows across her neat lawn. The wrap-around porch was obscured by the towering hydrangea bushes that cleared the height of the railing by at least a foot, an impressive feat, given the seven steps that lead up to the decking itself, from where the railing sprouted. As she approached, her fingers sought the soft petals, unable to help the desire that flowed from her fingers to the heart of the plant. The branch that she touched came away easily after that, happy to help her brighten the kitchen in a special place at the center of her table. In return, she sent the plant more energy, to make up for the lost petals and leaves, as well as her gratitude. It rustled contentedly, loyal, as always, to its caretaker. With a last, parting caress, she made her way into the cabin.

The relief was instant, as the cool from inside enveloped her like an old friend. She toed off her muck boots in the small entryway, leaving them neatly in their place next to her other shoes, a beat-up pair of sneakers, and an equally worn pair of flats. She took a moment to stretch her tense muscles, her hunt for the troublesome worm resulting in a few pesky knots in her back. Arms reached for the rough beams that made up the structure of her home. Dark wood and tiny, twinkling lights greeted her eyes between spread fingers. The little woman gave a happy sigh as she gazed around her lovely home, as pleased now, as the day she built it.

The only space inclosed with walls was the bathroom, for obvious reasons. The rest of the space was open, all the way to the wild beams above. Her kitchen and living room held a mishmash of bits and bobs that had found their way to her over the years. Nothing quite matched, and everything was well-loved. In her socks, she padded softly past her slightly worn floral couches and around the kitchen island, eager to get her new supplies put away so she could relax with a good book. Her bottomless satchel is upturned on the counter, leaving a pile of mess that would cause a normal person to balk. However, with a simple wave of her hand, the majority of the mess rose up and situated itself in the rightful places, herbs hung themselves over the sink to dry, vegetables found their way into the cool root cellar, fresh fruits and berries found their way into the bowls that lined the countertop, tools with wooden handles raced to their respective pegs along the wall near the back door.

With most of the mess handled, she busied herself with what was left, a few glass Mason jars, the coins she had found while tilling the earth, and the chunks of raw semi-precious stones her lovely crow friends had brought for her. The jars were returned to their place on one of the many open shelves secured to the back wall above her counter, aided by a wooden step stool that slipped itself under her feet without complaint. The coins and stones were gathered up in her green floral apron and taken up the winding, wooden staircase to the loft. The small space held only an old desk that had seen many different coats of paint and a bare mattress that lay on the floor under a large circular window. The window itself was set into the wall, so the smooth wood could accommodate a small body and a copious amount of bedding. Along the sloped walls, leading up to the zigzagging mess of fairy lights, was a staggering number of shelves, each one with a collection of random, shiny, knickknacks, all brought to her by friends, or found in her garden. This time it was the desk and chair that came to her aid, moving themselves and holding steady as she climbed the stacked surfaces to reach a high shelf. She sent her gratitude with soft touches as she made her way back down, each of her treasures in their new home, before letting the furniture return to its place.

All in all, she knew that today had been a good, productive one. But, as satisfied as she may be with a hard day's work, the little woman couldn't help the hollow beat of her heart. The centuries she had spent living her peaceful life in this home, tending to her garden, watching as those outside her sanctuary lived their fulfilling lives, surrounded by friends and family, were beginning to weigh on her soul. Each year she spent alone chipped away at her core, by and by, creating an ever-widening cavity in her being, slowly draining the once colorful world into a much more dismal setting.

A sudden flood of light caught her attention. Curious, she moved to the window and realized that the full moon had been revealed from behind thick clouds. Desperate, and lonely, the little woman pushed a fleeting thought, a small wish, to the moon. Her desire to feel complete at the forefront of her mind. She watched the bright orb with a glimmer of hope in her heart until the moon was once again hidden from view. Dejected, the woman shoved the feelings deep within, smoothed a smile on her face, and went back downstairs to scrounge up dinner and a "love at first sight" trashy romance novel to disguise the growing void.