The first to awake was the girl. She looked around herself to find she was at the base of a number of hills. An impression in the earth. And when she looked up and around, she found they were all covered in an odd kind of tree. Not the singing kind she was used to, but instead a conical kind. Branches poking out this way and that, and covered in green needles instead of leaves.
This was not where Song had put her to sleep. Was this where Sleep had taken her? She listened for a moment for Wind, but Wind did not sound the same here. Her trees in her mountains sang with it. Danced with it, too. Wind was willful. But here… actually, it wasn’t present at all. Only Silence was.
The Sun was dull. Morning would take the sky soon, she estimated. Assuming such forces still had power... wherever she was. There was a scary thought. Best not to dwell on it.
The next to awaken was the boy. She turned quickly as she heard the rustling. She watched as he rubbed Sleep from his eyes– a spell to summon Wakefulness– and began to stand. He was short, and his hair was cut all shaggy. He looked confused as he took in the world, turning round until his brown eyes caught on her. They stared for a moment.
“Who are you?” he finally asked.
“Kya’lanvakavrapyria,” she answered.
A laugh immediately escaped him. She narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t intended to summon Laughter. He caught her expression and laughed harder.
“I’d say I'm sorry, but I'm not,” he finally said, once Breath had returned. “This is a dream, right?”
“You didn’t give me your name,” she said, voice still and arms crossed.
“It doesn’t matter. Not if Im dreaming,” he replied.
“Why’d you ask for mine, then? did you only decide that after?” It’d be odd if he did. she didn’t see much reason for Laughter’s presence at her name, or her name being Dream’s construction.
“Well, something’s felt off this whole time,” he answered easily. “I'm not quite sure where I am, for one. And I don’t have any memory of falling asleep here. Forgive me for being a bit slow on that one. I'm still quite sleepy.” He paused here to yawn. She didn’t, only continuing to stare. “Two, no one has a name like that. Not in the real world. Thus, we’re in some construction of my mind. Now, would you please wait here while I attempt to fly?”
He jumped. Air did not take him. Earth brought him back down, where he landed poorly on his ankle.
“Ow!” He examined the joint, Confidence leaving him for Confusion to take its place. And did she see a hint of Fear’s presence, too? “Alright, scratch it all off. You’re not supposed to feel pain in dreams.”
She decided she’d let him handle his ankle on his own. Silently, she stalked up and over the nearest hill. With Time, she reached its summit, and she looked out over the world. Continuously, there were the falls and rises of hills, and the same poky blanket of green. And still, she felt no Wind. Air felt so unnaturally still. Kya’lanvakavrapyria turned round and round, searching for anything that would break the monotony. She almost assumed there was none until… there! In the distance, her eyes snagged on a thin column of Smoke, twirling through its dance with Air.
As a girl, Kya’lanvakavrapyria had learned that the way to survive was to look for Oddity, in whatever form it’d take, and to trek towards it.
Time brought her back down the hill, though oddly it did nothing for the dampened Sky. Morning was taking unusually long to arrive.
She arrived at the bottom again to find the boy wrapping his ankle.
“Ah, Miss K is back,” said the boy. There’s Fear again, though he’s trying to force it into being Calm. A difficult task.
“Let's move.” She was starting before he was standing.
If it came down to you or your friend, who would you choose to save?
It’s an easy question to answer, right? Your friend, every time. Always, it should be someone other than you. It’s the right thing to do.
The woman had lied to everyone. She’d been lying since before she met them. She’d decided that she wasn’t… who she truly was. She’d decided she was a traveler. A far one– one who’d roam long distances. One who’d speak little, for she didn’t need the company of others. Stoic, she’d settled on.
She told the boy– such an enthusiastic boy– that her name was El. Simple enough, right? Not like whatever K had told her his name was.
Now, the boy was leading them through the pine woods. He had said, “I saw Smoke dancing with Air this way.” And apparently, that was enough for him to start moving, no questions asked.
She’d told him hardly anything, no matter how talkative he himself was, but she had briefly let slip that the whole place confused her. It had to be a dream, right? It was all so unnaturally still. And she was convinced that she’d fallen asleep in a hotel, not the middle of some woods somewhere. At least she still had her hoodie. That, she knew was real.
She was content to keep the walk in silence, but K had other ideas.
“These trees are odd, aren’t they?”
“I suppose so,” El gave.
“Indeed! Back home, all the Forest shook and danced when Wind came. And sang, too! The trees had leaves, too. Flat and somewhat round.” K let silence return for a moment while they walked. “It was never still, there. Something feels wrong.”
“So you’ve said.” Her feet were tired. She’d been hiking too much recently. Was the fact that she could feel that proof that this was real?
“Do you still think we are with Dreaming?” K was apparently on a similar train of thought. “I don’t. I think Sleep simply gave us to something other than Dreaming.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” K had such an odd way of talking.
“Only that each night, Sleep carries us.”
Alright. No answer. Not that El was particularly curious what he thought, anyway. She soothed herself– soon, I will wake up. I will wake up, and life continues.
The walk continued. Tree after tree. They walked at the base of all the hills, taking their time, walking through the quiet pre-dawn haze. Suddenly, it was brighter. No slow transition of sunrise or anything– simply, the sun was not over the horizon one moment, and the next it was at the 10 o’clock position in the sky.
The pair didn’t talk about it. Didn’t have time to, because they heard a voice singing. To the right, El noticed a path, paved with cobble and lined with fencing. On it, a little girl in a red cloak was skipping and humming her little song.
El was moving to step back into the forest, happier to let the girl pass without talking to her, but K was already moving forward. He hopped up and over the fence, landing to joyfully exclaim, “Hello, Little Red!”
She startled and laughed. El was resigned to watch, picking a tree to lean against. The girl asked, “How did you know my name?”
“Most things are named for what they are,” K replied. Profound, El thought, dryly. Deeper down, she wondered what that meant about her. “What was that Song you walked with, friend?”
“Oh! That’s the song my mother taught me. To keep the wolves away, see?” She hunched herself over her little basket, leaning forward. In a mock whisper, she said, “You know about the wolves that stalk this forest, right? Big, scary things. With dark fur and big fangs! And their walk… they’re happy to follow you quietly, waiting for the moment. Waiting to eat you!” With a smile, she relaxed. “But they’re all scared of happiness! So, just sing a song, and the wolves won’t bother you.”
Odd logic. El was no expert, but she guessed alerting predators about where you were was not the move. She also didn’t think wolves cared about how happy potential prey was.
K took quickly to the story. “I see! So, then, wolves are all walking with Sadness. And instead of seeking Happiness, they’d rather find Sadness– or Fear, I suppose– in others, eat them, and move on!” He leaned closer. In a mock whisper like the girl’s, he said, “I think I’ve found a wolf already.”
When he glanced at El, she realized he was talking about her. Great.
“I don’t eat people.” Little Red caught sight of her and, putting together K’s joke, laughed. El didn’t think it was funny at all. “I don’t!”
“You haven’t proven otherwise! We haven’t eaten anything at all, yet. How do I know what you feed Hunger with?”
“Because I’m a human. That’s not how we work!”
“That’s what a wolf would say if they were hunting,” K replied. “A thing with Hunt is terrifying, isn’t it? Conniving, patient, and brooding.”
Apparently, the pair thought El’s expression was funny. There was more laughter. She really didn’t think anything that had been said so far warranted laughter. The two must just have skewed senses of humor.
“Are you done?” she prodded.
The story need not be explained. The construction that is Little Red walked towards her grandmother’s house, and there were wolves in the woods.
Here’s the unfamiliar piece for you. Even as they thought they were walking with a child towards a shared destination, only two forms walked the path– one bright and one dark. There are inconsistencies about them, as you’ve noticed. Origins are unclear. But consistently, one is bright and one is dark. One thinks the world is living, and the other, while she may have agreed at one point in time, no longer feels so.
Two forms walked the path. When they came across the constructed wolf, the bright one clasped hands with the fictional Little Red. They sang their song, and the wolf ran. The bright one didn’t notice a key detail.
Before it ran, the wolf had made eye contact with the dark one. It felt as though it stared into her soul. It was cold.
“There’s the house,” El interrupted. The other two ceased their song.
“So it is! What an odd construction,” K started. “Back home–”
“I don’t want to hear it. Can we finish this up now, please?” Despite so many words being said, it felt like nothing had happened at all. El was firmly decided– this was a dream. A meandering one. One that pulled on truthful elements of feeling– like that wolf. No, no need to think about the wolf.
A meandering dream. There’d be an end soon, hopefully, and she wouldn’t need to speak to K ever again.
And so they entered the home. It looked like a grandmother’s cottage. Evening sun shone through and caught on pale pinks and blues. Little Red approached the bedroom, and the other two followed.
El noticed the truth as soon as she passed through the door. Little Red was moving through her parade of questions– “Oh, what big eyes you have,” she'd say.
And the wolf would answer, directed to El, “The better to see you with.”
Damnit. A confrontation.
K, apparently, hadn’t noticed. He was smiling at the scene, as if all grandmothers had fangs and large ears. Maybe he didn’t have a grandmother, and so assumed this was ordinary. Maybe he was the only person in his own world who didn’t have fangs. Maybe he was a figment of El’s imagination, and so of course he wouldn’t react to anything like a person should.
So. El had a few options. She could sit this through and see how things played out. If it were a dream, nothing could bring her harm, right? Though, her feet were still sore… The wolf was still staring at her. The more questions Little Red made it through, the more on edge–
The wolf lunged.
El braced. She covered her eyes, she halted her breathing, she tumbled back and hit the door– pain against her head, cold against her back– waiting.
A little girl’s scream rang out and was silenced.
Hands pulled at El’s. It was K, suddenly and thoroughly afraid now. He pulled her up and brought them moving.
El followed with no question. She didn’t need to linger on the sight of a little girl’s throat, crushed and bleeding. One glance was all she had needed to sear the image into her brain.
Once, ‘El’ had had a sister. Her name was El.
The wolf was on their tails, she knew. They could spare no glance back. They didn’t need to see dark fur and red stained teeth and such big eyes. They wouldn’t be able to outrun the wolf, even running straight forward.
Once, ‘El’ had fled from home. It was fear that drove her. Such a sinking thing– it claims you and drags you deep, deep, down, down, dark, dark, until you are reaching up and your hand can only grasp at cold, miles away from the surface.
K brought them crashing through the home. The wolf’s crash was louder.
‘El’ had a friend, once. He was smiles and sunshine and questions– “the world feels alive, doesn’t it? And the stars must be singing, right? And if you and I traveled together, we could see it all. Imagine an etching in stone, so large and so deep, that you and I could sing, and the stone would sing back at us. We could harmonize, and we could marvel at the age of the sound, and we could feel happy. We could feel connected. We could reach out and touch at humanity and existence and the soul and feel fulfilled. We could–”
Next, they were in the woods again, bathed by the crimson sunset's sun. K was placing their linked hands against a tree trunk. He ordered her, “Climb!” Frantic. Hand on tree branch, hand on tree branch, foot there, pull, push, and never stop, for she could feel wolf’s breath on her heels.
The world came crashing down.
The world came crashing down. They were tumbling. Someone’s arms around her. The jolt of earth, through someone else who had shielded her. The sound of screaming. Three voices. El pushed up, hands and knees, and moved forward and away.
Until she realized she didn’t have to. Because the wolf wasn’t chasing her. It never had been. It had eaten Little Red, and now it slowly approached K. He was backed against a tree, a little ways away from where she had abandoned him. It was clear he could not run any longer.
El looked to where their tree had fallen. There was only a stump, now, and in it was lodged an axe. She stood. She walked. Hand here on the handle. Other there. Now, pull.
K was yelling something. The wolf was stalking surprisingly slow. No time. Pull again. Her limbs ached with the effort of it. She placed her foot against the stump for extra leverage. The axe came free in an arc through the air. It was heavy.
Her limbs ached with the effort of it all. Step forward. Two hands on the handle. She put it over her shoulder. Forward.
K was yelling some more. “El–”
The wolf was staring at her. She was staring at it.
“El,” came the broken cry. “I love you–”
When the sadness pinned her down, ‘El’ did nothing.
She stared at the beast. A stalemate. Or, that was a lie. The wolf could finish this at any time it wanted. It was simply giving her the chance to move first.
This wasn’t real. Grief doesn’t work that way. It strikes, and it does not relent. She closed her eyes and did not breathe. She felt the stillness of the world. The silence.
So when her limbs moved without her ordering, she felt nothing. And when she felt herself swing and hit something solid, and again, cutting through weight, she did nothing. When her teeth dug into flesh, she wondered why the world was this way, but she did nothing to change. That was her greatest sin.
“I love you, but I can’t follow you around forever. Not when you do nothing! You have to speak–” ‘El,’ she substituted, for he was speaking to the lie she’d made of herself, “--you have to be present in your own life. Please, speak to me! The world can be so beautiful! You just have to take part in it and confront this–”
It was silent. There was no blood on her lips. She had never actively hurt anyone. There was blood on her lips. K looked rather like Little Red, now, and she was sat by his corpse. Was it an axe? Was there ever a wolf? How had she killed him?
She stared for a while. There were no stars to light the night. She stared for a while.
Then, she closed her eyes.
The first to awake was the boy. There was a girl still sleeping beside him. They were on a beach, covered in morning's haze, but the waves were unnaturally still. Frozen, in fact, in time.
THE STORY HAS NOW ENDED. Would you like to go back home?