Her father had forbade her from coming to the forest trail.
He forbade her from doing many things. Especially things he thought might be dangerous. Aion had always seemed a little too superstitious to her, a little too play-it-on-the-safe-side. She didn’t love him any less for it; Maret loved her father, even when he hugged her a little too tightly or pressed too many kisses to her cheeks before bed. He always seemed the bravest, smartest man to her, but if there was one thing he didn’t know, it was that being told “no” only increased Maret’s desire to do something by tenfold.
And so, while her fathers were busy dancing and staring into each other’s eyes, Maret slipped away and into the forest. The familiar thrill of excitement, of doing something she knew she should not be doing, made her heart begin to race. It was dancing inside of her now, leaping and pirouetting like it had forgotten the doctors had once called it weak. She was thankful for that; if even half of what the stories said about the forest were true, she would need every last bit of strength her heart had to offer.
She doesn’t start the path at the beginning, but rather slips around the green-dappled man in silence. It’s too risky to let him see her; what if he knew her fathers? Eros had used to be a Champion after all, and of community no less. And Maret was not about to have her night of recklessness cut short by committing an amateur mistake.
The forest seems far too quiet when she first sees the lantern-light through the trees, as if all the birds and the squirrels and the deer were holding their breath. She tucks this thought away in her mind (to write down later, after the night was through), and hurries towards the trail. Her heart beats away like a drum inside of hr, urging her onward, her own little soldier boy marching away -
She is not expecting to see someone else; much less a child younger than herself.
Maret freezes at once like a deer caught by a wolf, her two-toned eyes widening. And she debates, for only a moment, sprinting off into the forest exactly like a deer would, just in case the girl has any intentions of tattling on her.
But before she can, the filly steps forward with a smile turning her words yellow-bright, and Maret can’t help but smile back. Her shoulders relax, and before she knows it she’s stepping forward, too, towards the girl with the marigold-pretty eyes and skin the color of a baby fawn’s.
”Have you not heard about the autumn trail? It’s all anybody can talk about here.”
She matches the excitement in the other girl’s voice - and maybe a little bit of the fear, too. She’s heard all the stories about the trail (soaking them in like a sponge, begging the older girls for stories of last year’s experiences) - and she’s heard, too, about not exploring the forest alone. Especially after the deaths, which everyone said were over now, but that would not be the first time Viride was declared to be safe. Maret was, of course, willing to brave the tales and explore it on her own; but now that she doesn’t have to, she finds herself breathing a gentle sigh of relief. Even if the other is just a child; Maret doesn’t have enough friends to be picky. So she smiles wider and turns to follow the trail, nudging her new friend forward to follow the miniature sun with her.
“I’m Maret. Who are you?”
a sunflower soul
with rock n roll eyes
curious thoughts
& a heart of surprise
i look over at you
and see sunshine
@maeve ! notes
"butter mellow"
