The lake. Beneath the waves the warrior stood. Weeds held her into place as her eyes lay closed, her thoughts empty. It was here that the warrior found solitude. Her magic made her gills, allowing her to stay beneath the surface for eternity if she so wished. It was relaxing and seemed to calm the raging storm within her. So many things swirling within her brain. So many things left unsaid. But here, it all seemed to float away, leaving her in nothing but a peaceful state.
But as the hours ticked by, Katniss knew that she could not stay among the fish forever. At some point she would have to touch base with reality, to feel the things she didn’t want to feel, to see the people that only made her heart ache. And with a heavy sigh, the mare began to walk towards land, the weeds slowly letting go of the mare. They watched her fade away as she moved from the center of the mountain lake towards the beach.
And as her head came above water, Katniss felt her magic slip away. Lungs and trachea replaced gills. Her body felt heavy as she ascended on the beach. As the waves lapped against her fetlocks, Katniss could see the figure of a familiar face not too far away. Aspara, the unicorn that she had watched grow since she was a foal. Briefly Katniss wondered if she missed her mother as much as Katniss did. The girls had seemed so independent, even so young, so Katniss wondered.
With slow and steady steps, she carried herself towards the young filly, flicking the water off her hide as she went. The last thing she really wanted or needed was to look like a drowned rat. Perhaps Aspara knew her love for the lake. Perhaps not.
When she was finally close enough to the filly, Katniss offered her a soft smile. A smile was hard to come by these days and Katniss rarely wore one. There was so little to be happy about these days. But Katniss was trying, she was trying to look on the bright side, trying to be a more happier version of herself. If not for herself than for Kibou. “Good morning, Aspara.” Briefly she wondered if Isra had told her of Katniss’ promise to protect her, to look after her as a mother and as a friend. She wondered if the child knew of her friendship with Isra and the depth it held. She had to admit, she wasn’t sure who knew or who cared. Life in Denocte was carrying on, even if Katniss felt as though the world had stopped spinning.
When I looked at the lake, I had nothing but memories on my mind. In my childhood I spent countless hours here playing kelpie with my sister. I marveled to think how we never got cold! It wasn't even that long ago but still it baffled me how we splashed around for hours without feeling the chill of the water. Later, by myself, I would dip my toe in and quickly recoil at how freezing it was.
And there, on the slopes by the lake, there was the church tree where I was born. The dreaming tree, with its leaves of rainbow-colored glass. The symbol of my parent’s love, always there, always swaying slightly in the breeze; mocking me, questioning me: why did you stay behind?
That day, I did not realize Miss Katniss was under the lake. Not until she emerged, dripping cold water like it was nothing. Seeing her made me think of Kibou, although I always thought of him in an abstract kind of way. I still didn’t have a clear picture of him, although I claimed him as a friend-- it was like I only ever dared to look at him from the corner of my eyes. I had brushed off how much he had grown, how quickly. I brushed off too my anxieties that he had outgrown me, he was no longer interested in my plainness, my dull quiet nature.
Katniss herself I did not particularly look up to. It was no fault of hers; at that time I did not really look up to anyone except my parents and my sister. Although in those days they were gone and I felt I had no one to look up to. No direction to turn. So I ran blissfully (lonely-ly) wild, and Furfur with me. Thus I was not exactly stirred by the sight of Katniss rising from the lake, although I admit I was envious.
She greeted me. “Hey.” I said briefly in return. I sensed a conversation coming on, unavoidable, so with a sigh I folded myself to fate. “What’s it like under there?” I was genuinely interested, and so naturally another question popped up, and then another. “How deep is it? What’s the bottom like?”
The water is slowly slipping from her skin, dribbling downwards as she finally exits on the beach and steps towards the filly. She does not feel the cold, though she suspects she probably should. Perhaps it is the kelpie in her that allows her to not feel the frigidness of the mountain lake. Perhaps it is her massive body mass that insulates her. Perhaps it is just her brain refusing to acknowledge the cold. It could be for so many reasons and instead of dwelling on them all, Katniss just allows it to be.
When Aspara greets her, Katniss offers her a soft smile. It is small at first and it takes a long time for it to fully pull at the corners of her lips. She is unsure why it takes her so long to smile. Perhaps it is because so much light has been taken from Katniss. No longer is she the beacon of light that most knew her to be. She has become a shell of the person she once was. Losing Metaphor had damaged Katniss in a way that was impossible to come back from. But she was trying. She was here and trying to make the most of the life she had been dealt, even if she was angry at Metaphor for leaving her and even more angry that Isra left her alone. She feels as though she has no friends. Metaphor left. Asterion left. Isra left. Everyone she has ever grown to love has left her. It doesn’t leave her much hope in this world.
When she asks her what it’s like under there, Katniss contemplates the question, thinking about the answer. She could tell her that it’s cold and dark, but that won’t help a dreamer. And so, she tries to describe it as best she can. “There is a sense of peace that washes over you as the water engulfs you. It is as if nothing exists in the world but you. It’s quiet and peaceful. If you listen carefully, you can hear the words of those passed on.” It was where she went to think. When the world seemed almost too loud, Katniss went beneath the surface to surround herself with quiet and peace.
She asks another question, this one more about the logistics of the lake. Katniss admires her curiosity. “Deep enough that you must weigh yourself down to sink to the bottom. The bottom is covered in sand and vine like plants that seem to guide you through the lake like a maze.” The fish sing songs of a hope to fly while she wishes she could sink and die. “Soon my magic will be strong enough for me to show you.” Isra would probably not approve of her showing Aspara the peace that the lake gives. But then again, Isra wasn’t here.
Even though Katniss was right there in front of me, no more than a few yards away-- even though I was close enough to see the lake water trailing down her sides, slick and clear, I felt there was a vast distance between us. I think we both had holes in our lives where loved ones once were, and loss demanded we keep others at bay. How else were we supposed to protect themselves from being hurt?
I had no lack of strong females in my life. Role models-- I scoff at the term. I was not a baby, in need of a nursemaid. I did not need a replacement for my mother and I surely did not want one. Despite abandoning her kingdom, Isra was apparently well-loved by those she left behind; there were a lot of individuals looking out for me at court. Peering at me, fretting. Usually trying to steer me in one direction or another, but to their collective dismay I grew wild and weedy, blunt and fiercely independent.
I knew Katniss was a good friend of my mother’s, and I appreciated that despite this she was not overbearing. When I asked her about the lake she did not try to frighten me or stifle my imagination; she told me true, and even offered to show me one day. I offered her a small but grateful smile. “Thanks, I’d like that. It sounds nice.”
I tilted my head, inquisitive. My gaze was piercing. “What else can you do?” I had not meant it as a dare, not when the question came to mind, but hearing it out loud… well, it sure sounded like one.
