Short Snippets - Your Journey Has Not Been Gentle
Tales from the fantastical universe of Angelika Moonglenn
About this Short Snippet
I was given a prompt recently and decided to change it a little to fit the Erudus universe. The short snippet Your Journey Has Not Been Gentle is the result. This is a long short snippet, and it is only a portion of the story of I have in my mine. I hope you enjoy it.
Your Journey has not been gentle
The sea green mist rose lightly from the floor, intermingling with the thin leaves of the feeding firs. Tiny Dancing flies swooped and circled between needles, sucking up the sweet-smelling pollen. The tiny wings of each fly shone brightly as they snapped together, as the bugs somersaulted to the next needle. There were so many flies circling me that it sounded like a million tiny hands clapping at an act in a play.
The sound reminded me of my mother standing on a mountain ledge above us, preparing to sing for the clansman of our little village. My expression had softened, and I had felt warmth throughout my body even though it was overcast and chilly. I had heard her sing in my head “Starry headed child”, a song she had written about Toby and I.
From my position below her I had watched as the eager faces of the village danced to her sound. Her voice was soft, like the fur of a downy bit, but tough enough to reach high, as the mountains themselves did.
When her last well-controlled note drifted upwards towards the moons in the sky, the clansman clapped pots, threw rocks towards the shale on the ground, and screamed “Whea whea whoo”. They threw streams of saffron colored gizzy petals, upwards so they would drift down around her.
Dad had stood below her. When her voice had first lilted upwards, he had closed his eyes humming as he danced in place. His well-worked muscular back looked soft and fluid, his crooked smile was large, and for once he had forgotten about jotting entries into his field book. He touched his hands to his eyes and then softly made a gesture towards her.
I was old enough back then that I knew they were happier than most. Life was not perfect, our house often leaked, we couldn’t purchase sweeties like some of the others, and my pantlings often had holes in them. But there was always laughter at my house, and my parents had a special bond. I had vowed back then that I would someday make a life with someone who looked at me as he looked at her.
That should have been a fond memory for me, but I knew I would not see that again. My father and my brother Toby disappeared the next day, and within a month mom was dead, and I was imprisoned in grandad’s manor. I felt that that I would never be comfortable again around men. I was too damaged and didn’t think I would even be comfortable with someone loving and getting close to me. After all, I was the reason my family was dead. Grandad had wanted my powers, and my family had died protecting me, what would happen if I let anyone else into my life.
I fumbled with my bent amethyst bracelet, that had been my mom’s and forced my brain to watch the dancing flies again. One fly near me was trying to climb further down a needle. It slipped on the dew from the mist that surrounded everything and glided down onto the tip of another needle. impaling itself. Its body slowly slid off the branch and fell downwards into the green glow below.
I released a weary breath. “Perfect.”
I turned away from the flies and began following a path bordered by glowing white veil fungi and moontide flowers. Underneath me, pale ivory silverlit moss sung as I walked and pulled my feet from its cushion.
“Swooch…Swuck
Swooch…Swuck
Swooch… Swuck.”
I kept moving forwards to where I thought the village of the Quilleaf people was located.
It had been several moons since I had landed on Erudus, met Obryn, and made the caves my home. During that time, I had made brief excursions outside onto my ledge that overlooked the valley below. While initially I was relieved that no one was around. It seemed unnatural to me that I couldn’t see any movement. I repeatedly returned to the ledge, hoping to see something. On the second day, I had moved in and out of my caves ten times before mid day and looked down over the valley.
Obryn had patiently followed me in and out, moving closer to me, tilting her head, and pouncing up and down on the rocks each time. On the tenth time, she landed on my shoulder, placed one of her soft wings on my cheek and pushed into my head. “No! Must Stop!”
I reluctantly moved back into the caves my mind racing. Where was everyone? Had I landed on a dead world? How was I going to survive here all alone?”
When I came out of the caves that night, I knew automatically that something had changed. The air smelt of bonfire and cooking tubers, children laughed, and someone hammered on rock repeatedly, each crack resounding with a “bong.”
I rushed to the overlook, tripping on my feet just as I reached the edge. I fell onto the rocks and stared downwards. My chest loosened. ” Thank the stars”, I thought. I was not alone. I moved a little closer to the edge watching as children threw small pebbles against the cliffs. I was going to stand for a closer look before I realized that they might see me.
I slowly moved backwards, barely breathing, trying not to make a noise. What if they were dangerous? What if they didn’t want me here. What if they were like him?
I made my way back into the cave saying to myself that I would gather my courage and descend the mountain tomorrow. Then, I could watch their activities from afar. I wanted the people to be like my parents had been, not like my grandfather. I needed them to be just a little kind, and just a little empathetic.
The next day moved to the ledge realizing that a cold, biting wind had settled over the region. The sound of the wind rumbled into my head, my fingers tingled as the cold began to set into their tips, and as I breathed, the cold hurt my nostrils as it flowed down to my lungs. I gasped in air as I tried to breathe. I hurried as fast as I could into the cave, Obryn buzzing my ears, trying to push me forward.
I learned later that the short cold snap that occurred once or twice a sol was called the Bitter Shift. The temperatures during this time dropped quickly. During the Bitter Shift it was so cold that it was deadly to go outside.
I hated the brisk cold then, and I still hate cold now, especially when the air is wet and clammy. The cold always got into my muscles and sat in the badly fused bones in my legs, making my whole-body ache.
Holding my hands under my arms, I retreated into the cave and grabbed one of the old holey fottie furs that I had found when rummaging throughout the caves.
Having nothing else to do, I returned to the library deep in the caverns. I had spent much of the last month blissfully searching through the room, hoping that I would find something that would help me understand where I was. I had realized very quickly that most of the books were written in local languages and I couldn’t read them. I had found a few gems that were written in the universal language Fresh English, but they had turned out to be cooking instructions, basic math primers, and a biology text on a small animal called a bit.
I returned to where I had left off searching, back in the far corner where it was dark, there were few gems, and water dropped down from the ceiling into a shallow hole in the rock. As the drops fell with a plonk, plonk, plonk, I threw a few mildewed and bug eaten cushions to the side, making it to the back corner where it was drier. Underneath an overturned shelf, I found a small book.
My eyes widened and I suddenly forgot how tired I was. My pulse quickened as I cradled the book against my face. The ancient paper smelt of dust and cedar, and the soft, buttery dragon skin smelt of woodsmoke and earthy moss. I spun myself around, thrust the book upwards and laughed. I twirled around until my ears began to ring and then called to Obryn. “Look, my friend, I found something.”
Obryn floated towards me, her long wings brushing the amber gems on the wall and landed on my lap. She stomped on my legs, trying to make herself a soft well to sink in.
“Obryn, stop!” I chuckled and slightly moved my right knee over so that she could get comfortable. “I hope that’s better you spot nabber.” I gently tapped her on her head, feeling the soft fur on her feathers, before returning to the book.
We sat while the sun moved across the horizon and the night planets rose and moved over the sky. I was lost in time, gently turning the disintegrating pages over, sucking in every word.
The book was a historical guidebook describing Erudus, my new home, that had been printed in the far away galaxy of Duin. How it arrived in my library, I did not know, but it was written in Fresh English, and the pictures it contained fascinated me.
During the day I read about an ancient planet called earth, where the inhabitants had fought and destroyed their ecosystems. As the last of their food crops failed, people had to leave Earth or die. The rich and the powerful, who were responsible for much of the conflict, boarded fine-lined, well-stocked, comfortable, fast moving air barges out into the cosmos.
The people who were left behind lost hope. But something unexpected happened. Ancient peoples, perhaps ancient prophets, had built great circles of stones around the planet. When it was thought everything was lost, they came to life. Energy pulled up from the Earth’s core into the stones, arced outwards and pulled these cosmic gates to life. These gates were portals to thirteen other habitable worlds.
The remaining people did not know where they would go, or if they would die as soon as they walked through them, but they had no choice and fled through the closest set of gates.
Some of the refugees landed on Erudus, becoming the ancestors of the Spineback Mountains region, the Charmed River region, the Dragonveil region and the Pampas region. In the oldest region, the Quilleaf forest, people had lived for sols before the great Earthen influx.
My beautiful book told me all this, but it was really the last sentence of the book that caused energy to spark through me, and the taste of possibility to arrive. The sentence read:
“The ancient priestesses, also known as the Great Mothers, carry a magical life force that allows them to keep the mother tree strong, gives them enough voice to grow the forest, and grows wisdom enough to aid the Mother Tree and keep her people safe.”
So, after the Bitter Shift had blown away, I grabbed an old purple and cobalt embroidered bag, filled it with the few usable clothes I had found in the cave, and descended the mountain. I hurried towards the soft greenish glow that always enveloped the Quilleaf forest.
I entered the forest, making myself small, my eyes darting from side to side, jumping when I saw movement. Beside me, sage green leaves clung to tiny branches on thin, bending tree trunks. Timbre flowers bloomed in darkness near them.
I tried to see how large the trees were. When I looked upwards, I became dizzy. I didn’t know how tall they were, but they must have lived there for years.
I spoke, longing to blend myself with the environment. “The trees here are just too ambitious.”
I smiled, kicked at the moss under my feet and continued walking. It wasn’t long until I emerged into a large area where a tree with a massive canopy rose so high and so wide above me, that I couldn’t see where the limbs ended. The tree’s twisted bark glowed in rhythm with the sound of the birds, the wind, and the crack of branches in the distance.
As I stared upwards to the canopy, my weak eyes began to adjust to the light, and I saw that a village of sprawling tree houses was nestled into depressions in large survivor trees, that grew around the mother.
The houses had moss covered roofs that were lit by sage green lanterns. Vines trailed down walls decorated in earthy tones of tan, and olive, Flowers that glistened and glowed peaked out from everywhere. At each house’s base, a small filament of light shone out from behind the home. Branches also reached out, twisting and turning making pathways, stairways, and decks on different levels into the sky.
Above the housing layer, an entertainment layer grew. Plinaries sang tales, acrobats tumbled, and animals called from above. There were open areas where you could look at the stars.
In the center, close to the Mother Tree, was the largest Sombre Survivor I had yet seen. I would soon learn that Arboria, the current Great Mother, lived in that small tree house. From there she monitored the health of the mother tree and her people.
I squeezed my eyes tighter so that I could look at the house before me. A small waterfall seeped down from above into a channel behind the house. Part of the building’s ceiling was open to the stars. The house’s outside walls were sage green, and were covered with Toxic Beauties, small violet crystal-like flowers. Branches nearby teamed with animals, including birds, small swinging sokas (-like creatures), and bright insects.
I turned my body around in circles studying the different houses, trying to soak up every detail. Suddenly, I stopped and gasped. “Boggles! The houses are growing from the bark of the trees!”
A slow, low chuckle welled up in me. “I thought the caves were mind-boggling… well, if I stay here, I’ll never leave. I won’t be able to find my way out.”
I froze, and the smile on my face fell, when a woman’s face appeared over a bridge above me. Her black-green eyes were wider than I expected, and her ears were slightly enlarged and pointy. She was standing on one foot, balancing on a branch no larger than a toenail. The woman held a basket filled with a bounty of purplish fruit. It sat on an angle and threatened to tumble down to me.
When the woman saw me look at her, she slowly, rebalanced her basket, and spoke in a hushed tone. “I am Mossa.”
Mossa blinked and scanned my body. I felt her eyes move from my feet upwards until they rested on my wavy auburn hair and lavender eyes. Her eyes widened as she looked into mine.
I fidgeted and fingered my bracelet. I rubbed the back of my neck.
In perfect Fresh English she spoke. “We do not know you. You are strange.” Mossa paused for several glimmers before she spoke again. “I feel you seek something. What can we do?”
It wasn’t until that moment, that I realized I had not noticed the multitude of people that had been wandering about above. I looked more closely. Children dressed in sage rompers hopped around the branches. They were a playing a game that required them to lower their body over the nearest branch, hold onto it with one hand, and snatch glowing seeds from the wind as they drifted by. Whenever a child grabbed a seed, they swung to one of two piles and dropped it in. Their friends excitedly shouted,
“Toda…
Toda…
Toda…”
Men and women were everywhere, and they danced around the village, in their earthen robes, with little effort. Some people carried large baskets on their shoulders just as Mossa had. Occasionally, they would stop and drop quilleaf flutes, timbre flowers, veil fungi, or mushies at a home.
Some people hung down from the branches in small woven hutches. A hutch was close to me. I swivelled my gaze and I looked at it. I froze and my heart rose to my throat. I wanted to step backwards but my fear fought with my curiosity. I stared at the man in the hutch, wondering how he got up into the hutch and if he slept there.
I grimaced when the man, who I would later learn was the great mother’s son, slowly turned his gaze towards me. He nodded so slowly as he acknowledged me, that I had enough time to easily examine his gleaming jet-black hair, flashing glacier grey eyes, too large green cloak, and the glowing seeds encircling him. Otherwise, he did not move, he just watched me. When I glanced around me, everyone in the hutches were staring at me. No one moved.
“Wanderer! Since you do not speak, mother has chosen to come to you. We can feel the lostness in you…”. Mossa smiled. Her mouth slowly opened revealing a set of greenish-white teeth. She placed her basket on the nearest branch, seemingly floating as she moved. Mossa grabbed one of the thickly intertwined vines attached to the nearest tree and began climbing down.
I gasped. Mossa looked like she was born to climb. She flowed downwards like a squirrel descending through the canopy, each movement fluid, skilled and certain.
Mossa came towards me. Her pointy ears poked out from her short, dark hair. They slightly twisted when I spoke.
“I didn’t know what to say to you. My name is Angelika.” I paused almost on the edge of hyperventilating and took a deep breath. “ I mean no harm.”
Mossa’s eyebrows fell almost to her nose. “Do not doubt. The great mother knows all. She comes to seek you.”
As I was trying to think what to say, a chorus of high-pitched reedy flutes began to play in unison. A song that I was to learn had no name, was not written anywhere, and changed whenever it was played, drifted above me with the glowing seeds. It was light, ethereal and the tension throughout my body released when I heard it.
Behind the mist I felt a presence coming towards me. It was the first time that I encountered something that was so magical, so powerful, so contained and so old, that I started to tremble.
The mist began to swirl in a circular motion, picking up dried leaves and small twigs, sending them into the sky. The woman appeared, she did not seem to walk, she just appeared visible. Her long silver hair, robes of imperfect white, and a pronounced limp, moved slowly towards me.
The people in the hutches dropped to their knees as she thumped past, sending their hutches swinging in the air as they looked down towards the ground.
My mind was very clear on the matter that I was unworthy to meet the Great Mother and that I should flee, but my legs did not agree. My feet were solidly stuck to the ground.
The woman did not hurry. Instead, as she walked, her soft eyes traveled down my body, studying every tear and faded patch on my clothing, every cut and bruise on my arms and legs, the knots in my hair, and the creases on my face. Her beautiful silver eyes stopped and rested on my hair; she seemed deep in thought.
The lines around the woman’s mouth lifted slowly in a soft, gentle curve, her eyes softened, and her pupils brightened. “May the great canopy shelter you. I have often hoped that the forest would call you to me before my body feeds the great mother. You look tired, Angelika, child of the mountains.” As she spoke the mother tree’s glow pulsated brightly in time with her voice. The woman motioned for Mossa to come forward.
“Your journey has not been gentle.” She paused while she gently brushed a dancing fly off her arm. “I am the Great Mother. You will call me Arboria, the name the great tree gifted me.” Arboria paused once again and tilted her head upwards, looking into my face, waiting for a reaction.
I could feel the warmth of her magic as it stretched towards me. It was not hurtful or wanting. Instead, it felt like she was giving me a long, soft, warm hug. For the first time in years, I felt that I would be safe here with Arboria, at least temporarily.
The edges of my mouth involuntarily curled upwards and I looked deeply into the depths of Arboria’s silver eyes. She slowly winked, held her hands over her chest, and then spread them out towards me with the palms visible. She tilted her head slightly.
I knew that somehow this woman would change my life and that I needed to stay here. I frantically searched for the words that I could use to convince her to allow me to stay. Arboria already knew what I needed.
“Rest, now. Mossa will share her bower. I will come for you.” Arboria turned back to the mist. She slowly and quietly walked towards it until she disappeared. The air around where her body had been, swirled with energy.
Mossa motioned for me to follow her. For the first time that I could remember, I didn’t hesitate. We walked forwards together, as the dancing flies buzzed, towards her bower. Today I would not think of the past, I would just live for now, hoping that the great mother could help me tame my mind and my magic.
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