A Breath of Life

TW: slight mentions of death and blood

The woman had placed a bowl of milk at the edge of the slope near her home a day after slaying the lion. 

The lion’s skin hung tanning in a space near the fire to tan, and she had sliced the meat into portions, small slabs she stored in her cupboard and salted them, a slab of meat she was soaking for a meal later in the day, and the rest safely packaged away in a small shrine like spot in the corner of her abode.

The woman held in her hand a twig covered in char, as she scrapped it against a slab of flint in her hand, as the twig lit alight and she placed it in her hearth, the fire warming the abode.

The swift chirped curiously, as she picked up one of the packaged slabs,

Placing it on the counter as she went and cleaned her hands,

Then carefully unwrapping the meat,

Reaching for a jar of nutmeg, an apple and lemon

And a dish from the cupboard

Plopping the meat carefully in the dish,

As she peppered a handful of nutmeg across the dish,

Cutting the apple into equal parts, the slices hovering the open spaces of the dish, and some left on the side. The woman sliced the lemon in half, as she picked up the dish, slithering over to the fire, as she placed the dish over on a platform, and her fingers dug into the fleshy lemon as its juices drained like sap, as they started to sizzle silently on the dish as the heat rose through the platform.

The swift perched on the woman’s shoulder, its head tilted forwards so close that it could feel the ripples of the warm fingers of the fire against the swift’s vanes.

The woman smiled, “Hungry, little friend?”

She rose, smoothly making her way to the counter where the extra apple slices lay solemnly.

She grabbed two slices, as she placed one down next to her elbow as the swift leaped to the counter,

The swift nudged the slice slightly, as it wobbled up and down,

Before the swift started to peck little nibbles into the fruit,

The sugar rich juice dabbling the swift’s tongue,

The woman ate a slice as well,

Her teeth tearing gently through the fruit’s soft flesh,

“Apples are quite delectable, aren’t they?” The woman asked the swift, as the swift chirped happily, continuing at the eat away the slice.

The woman giggled at the swift’s bravado,

As she rose again to the hearth,

Eyeing the dish,

As she reached for a pike,

Dragging the platform outwards, and sheathing her hand in a cloaked glove,

Held the dish,

The fumes of toasted nutmeg mixed with sweet lime, that choked the woman’s nostrils sweetly.

The swift hovered above her head, curiously.

“Ah, my friend, you wouldn’t like this as a meal, I can promise you.”

She placed the dish on the counter carefully, as she prepped the meat that soaked, as she reached for a jar of garlic and pomegranate skins, pinching two cupped palms of garlic, layering the pomegranate skins like paste against the mushy surface, before draining some lime of a new dish, as she placed the meal in the hearth to cook.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” the woman asked the swift, as she reached for the nutmeg meal dish,

The swift flew out staring down into the cool wallowing depths they had last been snuck upon by the lion the other day, glancing back at the woman with a look of wariness.

“Its alright. We won’t be going down there today.” the woman giggled, holding out her free hand, which the swift gently perched on.

“We all are entitled to a day of sunlight, don’t you think, friend?” the woman asked, as they reached a twisting path of rock that led up to the surface, though the stones were so eroded and smooth that any climbing down them should risk their limbs and bones tackedness.

The woman began to climb the rock path, her scaly lower body pressed benevolently against its surface to not fall, though she moved as though the rock’s difficulty was child’s play.

At the top of the path, on the surface, the light shone brightly,

The spores of the flowers and bark of trees floating like glitter through the humming of the grass, as they moved solemnly.

The swift buzzed warmly through the tree branches, nustling through the leaves like a baby’s first touch,

The woman giggled as they moved through the blooming forest,

As they approached a small outcropped pond,

Garlic and cinnamon nested around the roots of the trees so not many critters soaked in the pond.

The swift swayed slightly, trying to stay far from the roots,

And the woman frowned slightly,

“Sorry, my friend.” she began, “I had to plant these as to keep both the creatures and this space safe.”

The woman held out her hand, and the swift hesitantly, perched on her hand, trying not to squirm from the smell of the plants.

“This space was from which Gaia bore all the world.” the woman hummed, “It is also where those which sprang from her, hence returned.” as she slithered to the end of the pond, placing the dish in a polished mound in front of a molded clay obelisk.

The woman knelt, her hands pressed gently together, as she closed her eyes. The swift landed on the ground beside her, laying on its legs as to kneel, as they sat there, with only the woman’s breathing, the whistle of the wind dancing through the tree limbs that swayed jocundly,

The yawns of little kits yipping and birds chirping filled in the silence, before the woman rose slowly.

Her face was as round as the day the swift had met her, though at the moment, her cheeks and brows burrowed into her fleshy cheekbones, her hand gliding strands of hair from her emerald eyes that held back a well of blue.

“Thank you for your blessing, you from which the world was born.” the woman whispered, as her head hung to the ground, “Please, let them have this food. Please, take good care of them.”

The woman rose her head, as she slithered away, the swift following behind her.

The swift perched on the woman’s shoulder, and she wryly smiled, stroking the swift’s feathery head, as they continued through the forest,

The woman inhaled deeply, the pollen and air berating her nostrils, as she exhaled heartily,

“Ah, its been awhile since the forest has been so peaceful like this.”

The swift plucked up a worm, slurping it like a delight.

The woman chuckled, then seeing the swift pouted,

“You’re a very perceptive bird, aren’t you?” she asked, and the swift chirped.

“Hmph, and they say animals don't have reason.” as she sat against the boughs of an oak tree, holding the swift close to her in her bowled hands.

“I'm sure you felt it…” the woman breathed, stroking the swift’s wings, “those torrential sparks of death and life wafting into each other’s flames, trying to dominate the other, when you happened upon my abode.” The swift chipped softly, as it sat, nuzzling into the woman’s hands, and the woman softly sighed, “This place… once was nothing but the sparks of wrath and screams. My Mother and Father were one of the many quashed, when the King's offspring rebelled against his tyranny.”

The woman could still only remember glimpses of the time. When the scent of blood had once made her body run cold, her hands clammy and her tongue pressed against her dry mouth on the edge of screaming, with her mother pressing the woman in her youth close to her chest, her father following behind as soldiers approached. It was there, which they decided when the woman would be safest, where the violent drugged people could not reach her, in the depths.

Her mother had gently sat the young girl, and slid her down slowly like times before, when they played on the sea cave shore edge of their salty air warming abode.

And when the girl looked up, and her mother back with a broken, sorrow stricken face, searing rivers running down her cheeks, as the girl’s father appeared as well, grief weighing down his brow, as they breathed, “I Love You.”, climbing to their feet to meet their fates with howling cries.

The woman breathed, “Yes. You were close to the same fate. But you resisted. You lived.” the woman giggled.

“It must be the price we all pay to exist, it seems. Hmm?” the woman smirked, as she rose, motioning the swift to her shoulder, eyeing the horizon dawned in vibrant fire, as a sheer lace of blue began to paint over the sky’s dying flame, as she sighed.

“Surely, you cannot stay with me forever, though.” the woman croaked, trying to drain the disappointment out of her voice. The swift chirped frantically, trying to press itself into the woman’s hair like a blanket, so it would never have to interact with the outside world once more.

The woman sighed, as she gingerly cupped the bird, “I know its scary my friend…” she drained, her smooth skin smoothing back the swift’s feathers calmly, “but, you don't have to be. I am always with you, as you are with me.” as they sat at the entrance to the woman’s home.

“No, you must have a name if you are to be free.” the woman murmured, and the bird chirped again, a trill ringing as it stopped, and the woman smiled, “Kaēdō. What do you think, my meladonic friend?” the woman asked, and the swift chirped gingerly, full of warmth of a name, but still its wings felt weighed by the terrors of the world.

“Its okay,” the woman soothed, brushing the swift’s wings, “You are always welcome back to me. But, you cannot stay cooped here, when you have not taken your chances to see the world, Kaēdō.” the woman stated, gingerly.

“My name is Echidna. Whenever you like, you are welcome back, Kaēdō.” the snake woman, Echidna smiled, “Now go see the world, Kaēdō. Take advantage of your time with life, and I shall too.” Echidna said, and the swift, Kaēdō, chirped, as Echidna raised her hands and Kaēdō flew into the sky, glancing back to see Echidna sitting there until Kaēdō had flown far enough away that she she started sliding back down to the depths to her home, and Kaēdō out to live life once more.