The Language of Understanding

-Scarlett-

Stella’s breathing slowed to a steady huff, and with each stride, the familiar pace of pattern. Her mane drifted into the wind, becoming part of the pearlescent sky that ruled the morning. She was strong and powerful enough to kill me in an instant, yet she didn’t. Trust is the only bond between man and beast- without it, nature takes its course. That very nature being destruction or separation. We continued down the valley lingering on the outskirts of the group. Attune to every movement and every detail. I am her eyes and she is my ears. 

Her ears perked every now and again, keeping me on my edge. I needed to pass this test. Again her ears perked westward. I halted and the group followed, analysing with confused expressions. If it was a rabbit, it was a little too keen on following. It was too rhythmic to be real. The pattern of sounds I deciphered by Stella’s ears was too perfect. It was human. I motioned onwards, setting the snare. We continued for a quarter mile before I finally acted. Without a moment’s notice we were in the brush, and there the stalker was. Pale as snow he stood with my sword to his throat. As the group caught up, I lowered my weapon. I felt a small grin form as he mouthed the words, “Congratulations.” 

-Leo-

The cool of the morning faded with the onset of a stale afternoon. The air was heavy, almost as heavy as my body felt as we continued trudging on. The mud was thick and seemed to sink each of one’s steps further into dull exhaustion. The man to my right seems unwell. His pale green skin glistens under the hot sun, and his eyes are weary. It looks as if his legs will give out any minute. The frailty of the human condition is finally exposed. Each of us can taste it, our mortality, like a bitter salt that was once concealed in sugar. 

Surely enough they do, and he falls, defeated, to the ground. A few offer a glance of pity before continuing the trudge. I stop. “It’s almost over, come on.” I say, lending my hand. He takes it, gratefully, and I lift with all my might. I can feel my muscles stretching and tearing to bear his weight and lift him. He finally rises, shakily, and we continue. 

Soon, however, the mud begins to dissipate, hardened into soil by the sun which lights the peak of this great hill. As the mud dissipates, the beauty grows. A few daisies border the path, until they grow into fields stretching into the horizon. The mountains before us exalt His glory. The winds whisper His praise over every person among us. The beauty of God is reflected in this magnificent sight. The rigid stones and the delicate flowers. He is mighty and He is gentle.

We stop for a break once we have reached a small clearing. Some pitch tents while others fetch water from a nearby stream. I, along with others, build fires to heat the water and roast food. The man from earlier brings over some kindling. “Thank you.” He says, setting the pile next to him. “‘So, in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for that sums up the Law and the Prophets.’ Matthew 12:7” I reply. He smiles. “Exactly.” I finally procure a flame, and the man rushes to my side, nurturing the fire with twigs and dried grass. A roaring fire begins, and I lean against a log parallel to the man. “I never got your name.” I mention, wiping sweat from my brow. “Thomas. Yours?” He replies. “Leo.” I answer, rolling a strand of straw between my fingers. Soon, the rest of the group brings water to boil, and about twenty quail to divide amongst us. 

-Scarlett-

The dining hall is filled with people. Some cheerful and others gloomy. The result of today’s rigorous testing to determine who is fit to serve in the Queen’s guard. Only fifty will achieve the rank of bordering guards, with an even slimmer quantity of twenty coordinating the Queen’s daily protection, and the impossible spots of eight who make up her circle. I managed an elite spot among the eight after two years in strenuous training.

 My friend Amira attempts to translate the conversation held by my group around me. I can see her mouth, “That’s too fast” to Amber, one of my teammates, with no apparent response. “It’s okay Amira. Thank you.” I sign, calming her frustrated demeanour. “It’s not.” She signs back with a slightly irritated face.

Ever since I can remember, my deafness has been looked down upon with disdain, as if I was wrongfully awarded out of pity. As if I didn’t fight ten times harder than them, just be accepted into the academy. Despite their clearly asserted opinions, here I am. I’m not so much fighting for my place in the guard anymore, but to stay together. Most of the time I’m fighting just to remain present and okay, and other times the memories and feelings subside enough for me to be calm. My heart aches with a slow rolling pain, with short periods of relief. There’s a war within me. One side convinces me to harden like stone, while the other persuades me to remain soft. If I remain soft, though, I’ll have to endure, and repression seems much better. Bitterness is an escape, but I just can’t take it.

Amira taps on the table, giving me some relief from my inner turmoil. “Are you coming to the celebration tonight?” She signs. I sigh. “I don’t know. I’m tired from earlier.” I try to keep my face as nonchalant as possible. She sees right through the mask. “You should come. You need a break from whatever it is you’re worried about.” She signs with concern. “Fine.” I sign in reply, rising to return my dish to the cleaning quarters. 

-Leo-

The hall is lively, though we’ve been cut down to a small fraction of what we once were. Candles line the walls, and elaborate streamers hang from the ceilings. There is a rich aroma of spices wafting through the air, and fractals of light dance on the ceiling copying the pairs below them. A few approach me to dance, but I politely decline. Instead I continue making my way through the room in search of her, to no avail. Maybe she didn’t come, or maybe the officer mixed her description up with someone else. After all, I had only told him to search for a girl named Scarlett with dark hair, that’s all I could remember after two years. 

The night seems to last forever as I watch an endless loop of waltzing and mingling. Finally, rising from my seat by the refreshments, I start for the doors. Waiting won’t change anything. The cool night is bitter, and its gusty wind twirls with the memory of Scarlett leaving with her regiment for training. We were each other's only ties to home and familiarity.

 I miss those weekly trips I took to her family’s bakery. She would slip in an extra dessert, and I would leave drawings in the receipt book for her. Now, though I’ve worked so hard to get into the guard, I would give anything to have a cookie and a home rather than rationed food and barracks. A faint figure in the distance pulls me from my pestering memories. It seems to be a woman, hunched over at one of the Queen’s garden benches. I approach slowly not wanting to startle her. The wind pulls a few locks of dark hair from her cloak. I hesitate, but tap on her shoulder anyway. “Scarlett, is- is that you?” I ask, with disbelief. “Leo?” I smile, as she rushes into my arms. “I never thought I’d see you again. How are you?” She asks, wiping off any remaining tears. I can see her attempting to hide the fact she was crying. “I’m doing well. Are you alright?” Her face flushes red. “Oh- yeah I’m fine.” She blurts. I know only a small amount of sign language, but I attempt to form something along the lines of, “Really?”. She releases a broken laugh. “No.” She signs.

“What happened?” I ask, sitting next to her on the bench. Her shoulders heave. “I don’t really want to talk about that.” She continues looking into the desolate night. “Okay. Well, did you get in?” Her eyes liven a bit before dimming. “Yeah, I did. I guess all those years meant something after all.” Tears well up in her eyes again. I fish in my pockets. “What are you looking for?” She asks. “Trust me.” I say, pulling out the scrap I’ve been saving for months. The drawing contains a picture of a dove carrying an olive branch through the middle of a storm. A smile warms across her face as a few tears escape her eyes. “I love it.”