Maro had feigned he had fallen asleep after their bedtime story but had not. After half the night of pretending to sleep and two instances of nearly having actually done so, he got out of bed, moving as slowly as possible so as not to disturb Autumn. He wanted this to be a surprise, but since Autumn never slept, being quiet enough was difficult. The whole process took nearly fifteen chimes, longer than getting out of bed should, but he did not want her to know he was up. There was the narrowest of chances he would succeed. While she normally always followed him when he got up in the middle of the night, she had been heavily distracted during the story that night and had even forgotten to wish him a good night sleep. More to the grace afforded him by his natural, animal instincts and her general distraction than anything else, he managed to get to the table without calling her attention.
Once there, he knew what to do. Making the Soulmist had become a regular tradition, much like their bedtime stories, just not as regular. He had been practicing the art every two or three days and having Autumn test the product of his efforts. He was improving, albeit slowly, but he was improving. The dough was made quickly, and after he had tied a scrap around his palm, he ate the dough, took a bowl with him to the middle of the room, and sat cross-legged and naked to begin his meditation. He placed his focus on the potential of the dough and his good intentions toward the one he intended to give it to. Several times, he snapped out of his meditative state and looked to the bed to be certain Autumn hadn’t become aware of what he was doing. He was being paranoid, and every time he looked for her, she had not materialized, a good sign she was not paying attention to the world around her and rather was shut in her own world of thoughts and feelings. Judging the Mist to be ready, he unfolded his legs and changed to his bestial form in a flash of light. His jackal eyes looked to the bed and found it empty, so he regurgitated into the bowl.
He stared down at the bowl, his ears flicking in annoyance. It hadn’t worked. This was the first time it hadn’t worked since his first few days of trying. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong, but then it struck him. His worry about being discovered had distracted him and pulled his concentration away from the Soulmist. Resigning himself to the fact that he might be discovered, he let his canine instincts take over and cleaned the bowl out. Lying down, he curled up, hiding his nose beneath his tail to block out all the scents around him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Autumn and on the semi-digested dough in his stomach with an apology in his heart for not doing it right the first time.
The day was beginning to brighten around him when he came out of his meditation. He had been in a beautiful place, a stark, nearly empty shore with a black sand beach. There were massive gray rocks ten times his height all about, some far up on the beach and some in the water, their bottoms eroding out from underneath them with the constant pounding of the waves that sent spray flying through the air. The sky was dark with clouds; and the air, alive with the smell of rain. A storm was brewing far out at sea, and a light mist hung in the air as a premonition of the downpour to come. The only people on the beach were himself and Autumn, and she was the only color in this world of black and white and gray. She laughed at the distant sound of thunder as if challenging it to come and try to kill her, and he scampered around her, happily barking out the same challenge. It had been the flashes of lightning in the distance corresponding with the building light of the coming day that had brought him back to the present.
He trotted over to the table, his black nails clicking on the floor with each step. A quick jump landed him on the table, and he regurgitated his stomach contents back into the clean bowl. The soft glow of the Soulmist told him he had succeeded. Changing back into his human form, he got dressed, transferred the Soulmist to a vial, and took it to the bed.
“Good morning, Autumn.”
There was no response. He waited patiently. Sometimes her slow response was a way of testing and teaching him, but this time it was not so. She must have been very distracted.
“Autumn?”
There was still no sign of her appearing.
He sat on the bed, the vial still in his hands, and whispered as softly as he could. “Good morning, Autumn.”
Slowly, she materialized, but she didn’t have her customary smile. “Hi, Maro.”
Her voice lacked its usual luster and excitement and joy but not its love. If there was one thing she could not be, it was unloving.
He smiled. “You were sleeping pretty heavily.”
“You know I don’t sleep.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t respond the first two times I talked to you.”
“I’m sorry. I was thinking.”
Maro cocked his head to the side. “About what?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She let out a long sigh. “How’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t.”
Her eyes locked with his in her sudden concern. “Why not?”
“Because I made this for you.” He held out the vial of the Soulmist. “Happy birthday.”
Any glimmer of happiness that was trying to show on her face disappeared, and a look that could only be part anger, part terror, and part sadness came over her. She even glared. “Maro, I thought we agreed to not celebrate my birthday.”
“I know,” Maro replied, reaching out toward her and trying to calm her. “But we always celebrate mine and you always get me something. I just wanted a day where I could do the same for you.”
Autumn took a deep breath, and the anger faded from her expression. “I know, Maro. It’s just that today of all days is one I don’t want to be reminded of. The things that happened to me were terrible, and…”
She took a catching breath to hold back the tears that threatened to come. She had never told him what had happened to her the night of her twenty-fifth birthday, the night that had become her deathday. Maro was curious and wanted nothing more than to ask, but he knew better than to do so.
Autumn shook her head. “I don’t want to remember my birthday. Some days, I wish I had never been born.”
“I think your birthday was the most wonderful day in the world.”
She glanced over. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the best day, because it meant you came into this world which meant I was able to know you. I’m glad you were born.”
For the first time that morning, a smile came to her face, a smile she truly meant. “Thank you, Maro. I’m glad I got to know you too.” She held up the vial, toasting Maro, “To our friendship.”
She consumed the vial’s contents slowly, relishing its taste. “It’s better than any others you’ve made. What’s different?”
“It was the product of failure and apology. You should have seen the meditation I was in.”
He described it, attempting to recreate every little detail. When he came to the end where they were laughing and barking their defiance at the thunder and lightning, she laughed at him.
“Maro, you’re ridiculous.”
Her smile was brighter now with her laughter, and the fear and the sadness had evaporated. It came back for a moment when she suggested that he make the Arriving Night her special day of the year, but it quickly dissolved. Determined to keep her happy, Maro suggested reading some stories. He began the first story shortly after sunrise and continued until late that night. Maro chose some of her favorite stories, ones he knew drew her in and made her forget where and who she was. When he fell asleep by the fire in the middle of one of the stories, Autumn took the book from his hands and finished the story aloud to herself, closed the book, and wished Maro a good night with a kiss on his cheek before vanishing. |
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by Maro on November 22nd, 2014, 12:45 am 
