The jungle hides many secrets. The farther from civilization one goes, the more baffling it becomes. Lose yourself within it and it transforms into something alive, with a will of its own.

Small wonder, then, that when Cypress was first glimpsed, the dragons who saw them thought they might have been born from a flower. They were overgrown with foliage, their wings like the petals of a great, bright bloom. The dragons had never seen a being like that, and they wondered if Cypress was something else.

Years sped past, and the stories of Cypress endured: here tending an injured proto-manticore, and there giving directions to gatherers lost among the trees. Wandering silently through the jungle, protecting those in need...They were rarely seen, but they were present nonetheless, and as the years passed, their legend steadily grew.

~ ~ ~
The boar smelled of village life, of smoke and magic and dragonkind. It tottered out of the undergrowth on unsteady feet. Cypress recognized it as a familiar immediately. Familiars did not often leave their homes on purpose, so they were curious about this one’s motives.

It spoke in the slow creak and rumble of trees swaying in the breeze. Its eyes were growing dim. Cypress grasped the thoughts welling up from its ancient mind, and they understood.

“Master.” The word burned bright, urgent, like a beacon. “Young master.” There were impressions, rather than images, of a solid dragon with small wings. Following the boar’s footsteps and chivvying it back to the lair, its spirit brimming with concern.

Cypress had learned, too, of the strong bonds that familiars and dragons formed over time. Inevitably, such bonds would be severed. It was never an easy process, though there were ways to make it gentler for everyone involved. They turned and strode through the trees. The boar followed placidly behind.

Time didn’t mean much to Cypress. A few steps, and the sun swooped overhead. Flowers opened and shriveled around them like fireworks, and insects tumbled past in a blizzard of noise.

All the hours of the day, stripped quickly away, in just a few simple steps.

Finally the sky turned inky black, and Cypress knew night had come. Pale blossoms encircled their head, glowing with milky light as they opened.

There, a few meters away, was a young Snapper.

“You have been searching for your familiar,” Cypress realized. Their voice was silkily fleeting, like the wind whispering through the canopy. As they spoke, blueness bled across the heavens again. The jungle warmed from darkness to greenery as its foliage began soaking up the sun.

The Snapper was about to reply, but then she saw the barkback boar at Cypress’ side. She must have understood what was happening, because she began to sniffle.

“I know you. Gran said...you’re a spirit? You’re here to take Spriggan away.”

“He tells me your name is Cherry,” Cypress intoned, “and that he must return to the earth. Be at peace, young dragon. That is the way of all things.”

Cherry looked at her familiar. In the luminosity of the flowers, the boar seemed softer, his eyes brighter—and somehow wiser. “Come closer,” they seemed to say, and she leaned down....

The years washed over her like a breaking wave. She saw her grandmother’s face, framed by its headdress of feathers and leaves, and felt moss crawling across her spine. Savoring mushrooms and tubers and clear, sparkling water...

She saw herself, a hatchling barely out of the egg. Even then, Spriggan had been a presence in her life. She heard her grandmother’s voice: “This is Cherry, Sprig. She’ll take care of you when I’m gone...”

“And you have, you have!” Now Cherry heard her familiar’s voice. It resounded in her mind, wrapping around her like a warm, affectionate blanket.

Cypress felt the life ebb from the boar’s body at last. Their great wings beat—and the creature turned into glowing dust that rose with the breeze. Cherry opened her eyes to see the last of the dust swirling away, becoming one with the flowers and the leaves.

“He thanks you,” said Cypress, “as does the forest. The lives of such creatures are fleeting compared to yours, but his was full of joy. You and your clan showed him much kindness.”

The Snapper took a deep breath. “My grandmother spoke of you. She was a shaman. She told me your name...is Cypress?”

Cypress’ eyes glowed as they looked at her—and past her, stripping away the years. In the currents of life that flowed around the Snapper, they saw her parents, grandparents, her clan. They saw that she had followed meandering pathways through the forest, just as Cypress themselves did.

And now they looked beyond those currents, to the future roads she’d walk. They saw a wreath of flowers on her head, her neck draped with jewels, a shaman’s badges of rank. Another leader of a clan that trod the forest paths...

But that would not be for many years yet. Until then, Cypress could only promise her, “One who has been so kind to the forest will be welcome here again...all in due time. Then nothing from Nature shall be kept from you.”

Cherry’s green eyes widened. She didn’t fully understand the import of the words yet, but she would—eventually. When the time was right, as all others had before her.

The grief was lifting now. The knowledge she had received was settling comfortably within her, and it told her, “All is well in the jungle, and you are not alone.” She managed to smile. The sky ahead of her was bright, and now she knew the way home. She took one step—and planted it firmly upon the path Cypress had foreseen. The path to wisdom, knowledge, and oneness with the forest.

Behind her, Cypress spread their great wings. They wrapped these around themselves, like a flower closing up, and the radiance of their pale blooms dimmed.

There they would stay, in that in-between world, until the forest needed them again.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users


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