Page 50 of Beast and Remedy
I’m upset with you. I don’t like the name you called me. And I don’t like that you kept calling me it when I said not to.
Roses are for the outdoors and I am not a rosebud. Nor am I one to even enjoy nature. Plus, a rosebud is small, and tiny. I’m not small and tiny. I am almost at my eighth year of age. And I am only writing to you now because… well, because I needed to tell you that I’m upset with you.
I thought we were friends.
From,
Vi
NOT Rosebud
11
I’ve Made Such a Mess
Inever know which is worse. Shifting back after one night or being trapped as a bear for three days.
Exhaustion tugs as it always does after a shift, and I find a cave to hide in, covering up with leaves while I contemplate my next options, only to pass out.
The promise of spring rouses me from my slumber, sunlight caressing me as I blink, consciousness taking over until my eyes deceive me.
Hovering mere inches from my face, a familiar floating ember glows.
I rub my eyes for good measure, transfixed and bewitched by its presence. My chest heats when it twinkles, almost dancing. A soft smile pulls at my lips, fascinated.
An urge within has me speaking. “H-Hello?”
It flicks to me, shimmering as its flames wiggle.
“Hello,”a voice says, breathy and airy, filled with happiness.
My mouth drops.
Did—did I speak to a figment of my imagination? And did it talk back?
“Y-Y-You can understand me?” I still try to wrap my head around what I’m seeing.
Surely, it is real. It has to be. It’s the same ember I’ve seen three times now…
“Yes,”the voice replies, its enthusiasm rippling its flame.
I sit up, disregarding the dirt and crunching leaves. Marveling and admiring must do something to it, because it sparkles and bounces.
“What are you? H-How am I seeing you?”
I’ve never read anything about a floating ember such as this. Confusion muddles my thoughts as it remains unmoving, not blinking or vanishing like it has in the past.
What have I done to keep it near? To keep it close? To make it appear?
“L’esprit,”the voice sings, its flame sweeping toward me and twirling.
My eyebrows lift. “A spirit?”
The esprit brushes close, the air following it caressing my skin and sending shivers through me.“The soul of the forest lies with the protector and the esprits,”it hums in confirmation, dancing once more.
Never in my seven years of having this magic had I seenthis. Why now?
It spins, flashing when the sun hits it.“Help the protector, we must. Help the protector. Help the forest,”the esprit chimes, bouncing toward the cave’s exit.
