Semantics

The forest was not still as Maydawny walked to the creek. Birdsong echoed through the canopy, fluttering and brushing against leaves and branches. Insects buzzed from every direction, scuffling through the leaf-litter. Maydawny listened to the sounds as she walked, picturing the beasties in her mind as she heard them. A shiny black beetle rustled the leaves she had just kicked up, a Purple Finch flapped its wings as it perched in the branches in front of her. It squawked at her defiantly. “How dare you come so close to my nest? To my babies?!” She mused the bird saying. “That’s right, and stay away!” The bird yelled after she’d passed. The creek was a short walk from her village. Straw huts surrounding a central fire pit. Fish roasting on wooden skewers over the fire, or drying on wooden planks after being thoroughly rubbed with salt. She could hear the creek gurgling in the distance, whispering sweet nonsense as it tumbled over rocks.

The sun burst with joy once it was free of the luscious canopy. It lavished Maydawny with warm compliments and cheery greetings. The bird song faded into the fold as she approached the creek. Interesting how the creek’s mumbling, though quiet, could still drown out the forest through momentum alone. She got down on her knees to dip her woven basket into the deeper part of the water. A movement contrary to the water’s rhythm caught her eye, something out of place. A shadow, a spirit perhaps? She looked up slowly, trying to avoid spooking her would be admirer. To her surprise it wasn’t a spirit or an animal on the other side of the creek, but another person. A young girl, just like her. Their eyes locked for a moment before the other girl recognized she was spotted and looked down. She was wearing the same hide dress as Maydawny, but her necklace was different colors, the bracelets on her arms too. They glimmered in the sunlight with precious stones, just not ones Maydawny had seen before. Cautiously she stood up, with her basket full of water. She backed away slowly, without taking her eyes off the other girl. Her feet knew the path well, using the stones as landmarks. Once she was beneath the canopy’s shadow, she turned and ran back to her village. Spilling water all the way.

She could tell her mother was displeased with how much water she spilled on the way back to the village. She had taken her time walking to the creek, and bringing back less than a full basket meant she’d wasted the time in vain. She tried to communicate to her mother that she’d seen another girl but it fell on deaf ears. None of the village women were interested in stories about other girls, they had plenty of their own to deal with. Girls that took too long getting water and spilled half of it on the way back. Finally, her grandmother from across the fire pit, “Enough!” And the conversation was over.

Frustrated, Maydawny stomped off into the forest, pummeling her feet into the dirt to create as much noise as possible. The village women let her go, they knew all too well how to handle temperamental little girls. Once she was by herself again, listening to the birds sing, she found a nice stump to sit on. One from a large tree, fallen a long time ago, eroded and softened by time. She closed her eyes and let the forest calm her, let it absorb her heat and irritation. She did have to admit that she often divulged to her mother and grandmother about spirits she saw in the forest, about how birds talked to her, how beetles beat out silent rhythms as they scaled her legs. No one else ever heard anything. To them it was always just the sounds of the forest, mundane, impotent. Her great-grandmother saw spirits, she would converse with them in her hut late at night, sometimes Maydawny would find her walking through the forests, talking to the birds. Catching butterflies and whispering secrets to them before sending them on their way, carrying messages to other people Maydawny had never met. She didn’t understand why no one believed she could talk to birds and other people like her great-grandmother.

She opened her eyes and there she was again, the girl from the creek. Standing not ten feet in front of her. Their eyes met, hers were a misty grey with brown specks. Her dress was slightly lighter, like it had spent too long drying in the sun. Maydawny wanted to say something, to let the girl know she sees her; but speaking in her village was usually reserved only for elders like her grandmother. Maybe that’s why her grandmother didn’t approve of her great-grandmother conversing with the birds and strangers. She wondered if things were the same in the other girl’s village. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, what if her mother was nearby and could hear her. She was sure the other girl was thinking the same thing, because she didn’t speak either. She tried communicating with her hands, but the other girl just seemed confused. Maydawny got off her stump and walked up to the other girl. She slipped one of the bracelets off her arm and slid it onto hers. The colors played nicely together. The birds were silent, the insects had fled. The forest’s hum had drained but Maydawny didn’t notice. She watched the other girl study her bracelet, and then she spoke, but her words weren’t words Maydawny had heard before. Instantly a sharp pain overwhelmed her mind. A crippling pain, preventing thought, discourse, preventing consciousness, existence. She fell to her knees and uttered an involuntary scream. Immediately she could hear leaves rustling as the women of her village rushed to her aid. She knew they felt the pain from her scream. It was fading now, a brief all consuming flash. She opened her eyes to the forest floor. The girl was gone. The women of her village materialized betwixt the trees, soon they were all around her, holding her, gently brushing her hair. Their touch felt good, soothed the fire burning in her mind. The pain was receding but she could still feel it as tension. Her skull was fighting to keep the pain out but it was squeezing her, testing her for weakness; every so often it would flare up again, not as powerfully as the initial burst, but still strong enough to remind her of what she’d just experienced. She half walked, half was carried back to the village, to her grandmother’s hut. It was dark in the hut, musty, there was only room for her grandmother’s bed and one other person to sit across from it. That’s where she was deposited. Soon her grandmother came in and sat on the edge of the bed across from her. To her surprise her grandmother did not try to communicate with her hands, instead she spoke directly to Maydawny. “What did you see?” Maydawny had never been asked to speak before, she wasn’t sure how to respond, but her grandmother softened her brow, opened her eyes wide. So she told her everything that happened before and after she stormed away from the village. Her grandmother frowned, her brow furrowed. She wrung her hands and sat silently for some time. No more words were uttered.

The sun was still shining when Maydawny was freed from the dark mustiness of her grandmother’s hut. Her grandmother’s silence, being told to speak, it made her feel guilty. A heavy blanket was swaddling her mind, preventing her from thinking clearly. Obfuscating reality. She wanted to go back to the forest. She knew the birds would soothe her, maybe even a dip in the creek. Submerging herself beneath the water, only hearing the tumbling of the current… She imagined it would be like a salve for her mind. She’d almost reached the edge of the village when, “Stop!” Her body was frozen, every muscle and ligament fused and her feet nailed to the ground. It was her mother this time; she tried to recall the last time her mother had spoken to her, she couldn’t. After a few moments she could move again, so she turned and faced her mother who was now immediately behind her. She tried motioning to her that she just wanted to go to the creek, to get more water. She wanted to say that her head felt like it was full of rocks, that she knew listening to the birds would help, that she wanted to take a dip in the creek and forget what had happened. But she knew it would fall on deaf ears. “Stay in the village,” her mother affirmed. “Go sleep in your hut.” Maydawny’s legs carried her to her hut without any impetus from her. She was annoyed with her mother, her head still felt heavy, she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to see the girl again, but she laid down in her bed and closed her eyes, and within moments a calm darkness enveloped her.

She woke the next morning with the sun already blazing through the opening to her hut. She could hear the fire crackling and feet shuffling through the dust. Someone was hitting a bouquet of leaves against a wooden plank. Immediately she remembered the girl. She wondered if they’d let her leave the village today. As affirmation of her desire a bird perched right on her hut and chirped to her. Louder than the drone of the village, louder than her mother yelled at her the day before. “Let me distract them with my song while you slip away,” it mused. Carefully she crept out of the hut, looking around for her mother and grandmother, then, a cautious step forward. Everyone was too busy to notice her, fish were being rotated over the fire, a new hut was being erected. A couple girls had just gotten back from the stream with water and were pouring it into the communal wash basin under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Careful not to spill any, Maydawny thought to herself and smiled a little. She knew she was being mischievous as she slipped behind her hut. She covered her mouth so she could giggle a little. Her great-grandmother would always wander off too, her grandmother would be mad at her when she got back. Sometimes would even try to stop her, but the elder would pretend she didn’t hear the younger; and disappear into the forest for however long she deemed fit. One time she didn’t come back. After waiting a couple moments to make sure no one had spotted her; Maydawny quickly but quietly meandered behind a tree, then another, gently and slowly planting her feet between the leaf litter so she wouldn’t make a sound. Once there were enough trees between her and the village to block her from sight she forgot all about keeping quiet and skipped to the creek. The birds sang songs of jubilation and pretty flowers smiled at her as she passed. Bright, iridescent dragonflies fluttered in and out of her eyesight, and beautiful red, green, and yellow butterflies fanned their wings perched on tree trunks and bushes.

In no time she was free from the canopy and basking in the sun’s affection by the creek. The birds and insects coalesced into a mellow hum behind her, the creek burbled like a newborn in front of her. She closed her eyes and spread her arms wide, allowing the sun to bask as much of her skin as possible. When she opened her eyes the girl was across the creek from her, as she knew she would be. She waved to the girl, the girl waved back. Instinctively, she began to wade through the water. The creek was deep in the middle, and she stumbled, submerging beneath the flow. For a moment everything was gone, just the hum of the current and bubbles obscuring her vision. But then she popped her head above the water, the girl was still there. Maydawny swam the rest of the way until she could wade through the water on the other side. The girl had waited for her patiently, and now that they were face to face she presented Maydawny with a bracelet. Like the one Maydawny gave her the day before but with different stones percolating the wooden spheres. Maydawny had never seen stones like these before, they were clear but with a misty blue color. They were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen. Before she could stop herself the words Thank You tumbled from her mouth. She startled herself with her own voice, but her face conveyed the gratitude even if the other girl didn’t understand what she said. Her eyes lit up, eye-brows raised, she hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. A bright flash of light blinded Maydawny, the pain in her head was so sharp and so comprehensive that she couldn’t bear to think, she collapsed to her knees and grabbed her head. All she could see was white, all she could hear was a high-pitch whine. Neither the sounds of the forest nor the creek could penetrate the shrieking pain of her mind. She probably groaned in pain, or maybe yelled, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t be able to hear it if she did. After an unknown amount of time the pain finally began to abate and she opened her eyes. She was on the ground, her vision was blurred, moving her eyes in any direction brought back a cascade of pain. At first all she could do was look straight ahead at the pebbles on the shore. She propped herself up on her hands and knees first, then stood up. Still taking care not to move her eyes too much. There was a lot of people in front of her. They towered over her. When she tried to raise her gaze to look at their faces the sharp pain returned, so she settled for looking at their feet. The sun had moved behind them and their bodies were covered in shadows. She felt someone beside her. The girl! She was so happy that she was back, but when she turned her head it was not the girl, instead it was her great-grandmother. Her face illuminated by the sun, she could see it clearly, her soft eyes and wrinkles so deep they cast shadows. She felt no pain when she looked at her.