I cannot understate the power of friendships born in wild places. Among the trees, and the earth, and the bone-deep shadows; in many ways I think our fate was sealed that day.
Like I said earlier-- looking back on that evening, most of my memories seem to have blurred together. Everything happened so quickly, and so strangely, and there was of course an unusual magic afoot. Despite all that, I remember a few things with extreme clarity...
One and two: I remember the flower that bloomed suddenly before him, and the way he hardly noticed it. Then I remember the way he reacted when I touched him. It was like... it was like he had been burned. To be honest, it hurt my feelings. “Oh” I felt a flush rise in my cheeks, unbidden and unwanted but there nonetheless. I felt ugly, untouchable-- and I knew, I knew my self-worth should not be determined by some random, wild boy! But it was, and it hurt and so it became a relief of sorts to turn away to the darkness of the forest and plunge myself into it, as though I could be unravelled so easily and return to the beautiful mystery from which we all are born.
Three: The way he said my name. I looked behind me then, surprise and concern twisted across my brow. Me? He could have simply said “wait!” but he didn’t, he said my name. My name. It was strange to hear it on a boy’s tongue. The sound of it made me hesitate, yet I also wanted to laugh-- for it was said with a kind of indignance, like he wasn’t used to someone else making the decisions. This pleased me immensely for pride was and has always been (for whatever reason-- we needn’t explore it now) an enemy of mine. And as I looked back to him with that expression of dumbfounded surprise (the unimpressed rise of my brow suggested “why don’t you just keep up?”) I was struck by the expression on his face. That smile, wild as my sister’s-- I felt my own lips instinctively tug upward in response.
Four: At some point among the chaos as we burst through the forest came the tap-tap of our horns gently knocking as we ran in stride-- and as that sound coursed down into my bones I had the distinct feeling that we were bound, for better or for worse, for the rest of our lives.
Whatever may become of us, Leo, I swear to you it was born in that moment, with the forest as our witness.
Five: The clearing.
The particular image of that clearing, and the shifting shapes of the fireflies which led us to it, will forever be burned into my mind. In particular the way they formed the shape of a filly. At first I thought they were mirroring me, for she (excuse me, for I cannot help but to refer to the group of fireflies, in that form, as “she”) had my horn. My mother’s horn. But the lights gathered thickly in an all too familiar band around her neck.
It was Avesta.
My stomach clenched. “You’re not really here.” My voice was probably lacking in conviction, because she was there. It was so clearly my sister, in the form of a three dimensional constellation of fireflies. She trotted in place and beckoned to me and my heart twisted painfully in my chest with the keen awareness of everything I did not have.
“Leonidas?” I found myself reaching out to touch him again, although in a way that was very different from the first. I shuffled over to press my shoulder to his and this time there was something gentle, maybe even pleading, about my touch. I needed reassurance that I was not seeing and hearing things, that I was not alone. I did not fully trust the fireflies, as much as they captivated me. Some instinct drove me to have a vague feeling of defensiveness, and this time I listened to it. “It’s a trick, right?”
Avesta lifted her head in protest. She reared up and pawed at the sky, indignant. In the flesh she had been barely contained, but the fireflies that shaped her were not so restricted. They surged outward in an angry wave, then coalesced once more in the shape of a girl.
I laughed, partly in disbelief and partly in awe, and when I turned to Leonidas our faces were both alight in the precious glow of lost sisters. “Right?”
I didn't want to, but for some reason I trusted him.
THE REASON THEY CAN FLY
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