The Path Desired

[Gwenlyn Omenroot]

"Land of immortals I wait for my day
to reach the wisdom of your skies."

- Rhapsody: Land of Immortals.


My roots sink deep into the soil of this cold ground that the natives seemingly call the Borean Tundra. Immediately I feel how the spirits that roam this place, invisible to the naked eye notice my call, and approach curiously. Silently I present my harmless intention that I merely wish to commune with them, that I mean not to endanger the place, that I have no ill will toward the life that treads this area.

The sensation is as intoxicating as I remember it.

She was right in that sense, right in that I’ve always desired to be closer to nature rather than to my own kin. Ever since I could first form my independent thoughts, I’ve longed for this connection. I feel complete now as I did when I first let the spirits guide me into changing into this form. With that in mind, my shando’s surprised look flashes before my mind’s eye – and once again I feel humbled by it. I hope I make him rightfully proud.

Kaldorei.

Her stark and to the point statement rings in my ears even if she is not present - I can almost feel her finger tapping on my chest. Yes, beneath the form, whether it be fur or feathers or bark, I am irrevocably Kaldorei. I am not truly the form I embrace, and in that I am satisfied. I’ve always dreaded the thought of losing myself in an animal form, forgetting who I were. Savagekin.

The leaves upon my tree form rustle in response to what should’ve been a cold shiver running down a spine encased in flesh and blood.

At least, I tell myself, now I am not in the form of an animal. Tree. Not feral. I am safe.

Safety.

A keyword. No responsibility.

Dog.

Without noticing at first, I nod in agreement. Yes, I think to myself. You’re right. I am a dog. For now. And as much as I wanted to disagree, her words rang true even as they were uttered. A Sentinel does as she’s told, follows orders, carries them out without disobedience or question. It was simple. It was as such careless. All I had to do was to kill the enemy, and try not to get killed in turn. I survived the war, and the war opened the door for me so that my dream could come true.

I’ve always had a care, always been humble, always listened before speaking.

But it hadn’t taken her a split second to figure me out. The blessing of age, I’ve always told myself - wisdom of those who’ve come before me. And it is that same wisdom that I’ve craved, desired. With listening comes hearing, with hearing comes understanding. I desire that wisdom still, but with that does come responsibility, as she said.

Maybe not a dog.

I retract my wooden lips into a faint smile and slowly close my eyes to better focus on the communion with the spirits. I’ve established contact with them, and I must honour them with listening, lest I go over what took place in the time I was alone with Kestrel and her wolf. I will ponder the words of truth once I’ve hopefully gotten the answers that shan’do and I are seeking.

With that I fold my bark covered hands, holding them against my chest as I bow my head.

Kaldorei.

[Gwenlyn Omenroot]

"I've been dreaming for far too long
And my dreams all break one by one"

- Sirenia: One by One.


I never foresaw the amount of time that he'd be gone, my shando. And had I known it then, I doubt I'd have agreed to let him go on his own and linger behind in uncertainty. Perchance I am a dog after all, forever held in place by blind loyalty, howling from the spot where the empty bowl remains unfilled, pulling and straining the chain that holds me in place, just as I've seen how the humans keep theirs in place.

My chains now are the roots of mine that run deeply into the soil. I've been sleeping, dreaming, longing and crying as the elements have rustled my leaves and branches. Yet still I've remained here, waiting for a shando who will seemingly not return to me.

Did he truly finish his work in me? Did he really deem me ready to stand on my own? This is nothing like when I participated in the Long Vigil. This is so different from when I trained to be a soldier.

I open what may be classified as eyes and peer down at my bark covered form, and I count myself fortunate that no force of nature has damaged me - at best I've only grown some moss, nothing I won't recover from.

Rustling my leaves I pull up the roots that have kept me firmly in place and I take a few uneasy steps, which prompts my form to groan and creak in response. Enough, too stiff in this form. I focus hard as I re-assume my fleshy appearance, only to fall down on my knees, which I'm happy are still able to bend.

The touch of the grass, which is withering in the autumn, feels good between my fingers - no matter what form I've taken, the grass only feels good when the skin has been my own. And right now it feels as though it's been a life time since last. Mayhap I've stayed too long, but that cannot be changed. Perchance shando foresaw this, and knew that I needed time to stand on my own. Perhaps he planned this all along.

I don't know how much time passes before I feel secure enough to stand on my legs, but eventually I find myself on both legs, walking slowly and unsteadily onward. Nighthaven is not far away, and maybe my path as well.