Into the Wilderness

 

Into the wilderness we went. Edhweirft and Hwyrflung swirled above us, blowing and bustling through the treetops. Watching. Threatening. But maintaining a safe distance as the trees protected us

 

Scrunch

Crack

Squelch

Scrunch

Crack 

Squelch

... we went, as the gloam drew in. Druuuuuin!! Closer. Druuuuuuuuiiiiinnnn!!!!! Closer. It hugs, this gloam. It sticks. It holds. It cloys the mind with its drab-drab-grab. The breath is tight. It fights, for more, for freedom, to live, it must escape, but the gloam holds it inside you. The breath panics. It is afraid. It needs to be free. It escapes the mouth with a fight, then slowly raises up, toward the canopy. But it cannot swoop, it cannot flow. The gloam drags with a friction that burns and the breath is consumed within its mass.

 

Edhweirft is rattling in the branches of the trees above. Waiting for the gloam. Watching its vile, twisting display unfold. He watches. He sees. He knows. He understands. But Edhweirft is the trixter, the player of games, the jinxing Ju, the rogue andiggler. He is the north wind. He has no substance. He is force. He is energy. He wishes you to know that he is. That he lives. He is alive. He is life. He splits the gloam in 2.... Phoooooooshswipthwack! The gloam separates. It severs. It dissolves. It breaks down its density into its fractal construct. And the fractal shatters and chaos ensues. Dancing apart. It's essence. It's life glue. Dissolving. Dissipating. Fizzling. Sizzling. Fzzzzzz sszzzzzzzzzz......      

And the elements of its structure revel in the end of the gloams monarchy. This is despotism. This is revolution. This is chaos. This is beauty. Microscoppai scatter everywich. Hither und thither. It's chance now to create a New. This one Microscop. He is strong. His force pulls. His charm. His beauty. His power. His magnetism. It draws them to his new rule. A new form. A new structure. A fresh life. A gloam without the gloom.

Edhweirft continues to stalk. He is here. He is there. He shakes the trees as he comes in as if to break their hold on the sky and shake it from their rafters. He picks you up. He throws you to the ground. Then he moves on to his next victim, laughing in his breathy tones. Preparing and clearing the way. The way for his sister.

Edhweirfts sister, Hwyrflung, brings the TipTap. She is electrickery. She swoops with a crack and a bite. She brings the change. She creates the new. But first she destroys. She slices. Then nothing. Aaaaaooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!! She howls in delight. In the distance a tree sniiicpraks and falls down dead. Life gone. No more. This wise old tree. This rememberer of dreams. And play. Holding you high in his arms, protecting you as you climbed. No more. Goodbye old friend.

FizzzzzzzzzxxxxchchchccfrrdrdrffffrAAAAAKK!!!!

Another.

Closer this time

TachooooooooommmmmmmAaaakakakrashhhh

The crack and the howl almost joining. Like great lovers drawn together at the moment of their deepest impending intimacy. 

They wait, these two for little more than a fraction but the anticipating makes time slow down. As Hwyrflung watches they play their game, their dance. Fizzing and building their passion inside her deep black mass. Crackle... The first touch. Atoms rub. Heat generates. A light turns on deep inside. A light that aches for more. That aches for its release. Crackle pop. A short burst. Then recedes. 

 

The wait.

 

...

 

The pause

 

...

 

The anticipation too great

 

...

 

Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhkkkkkrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

They erupt together as one! Light and sound. The power of their passion uncontrollable. A pure release, seeking its way towards its nearest destination. The place in can rest. The place it can seek its ultimate fortune. Life ending, life beginning, life changing. 

 

And Hwyrflung hangs, still watching, but the passion of these two, so strong as it was, has sapped her strength and she falls to tears. The TipTap is gone, this is the Schoom. Heavy, thick and fast, draining her essence. Feeding it to the ground. For Hwyflung is not destruction, she is change. Her Schoom takes her pain and feeds its nutrients. It feeds budlings and saps and all the little scitterscatter looking for thirst. Until there are no tears left to cry and the TipTap returns.

 

Edhweirft swoops in to save what is left of his sister. He scoops her in his arms and whips her to safety in the canopy. 

 

Out comes the God of the sky. He chases Edhweirft and Hwyrflung away with his warmth and smiles at their mischievery. He sends his Prysm through the TipTap, scattering a beautiful light.

 

And all is well.

 

We make our way through the wilderness and out, safely, to home.