As I stepped out of the village, my heart swelled. I turned to look back at the place where I had grown wings, the place where I knew when to behave how, where I had learned how to perch in the shadows of the eaves of the cathedrals, soaking in the monks' chanted prayers for a better world--and where I had learned that those lonely spaces were not where I wanted to be. Thronging festivals, living, vibrant friendships, home--
As I choked back a quiet sob, I looked up at the ramparts of the town's wall. There the Guardian met my gaze sternly, dispassionately, and unyieldingly. I had made my choice, and I must go. Absorbing the loss was harder than I had ever imagined it would be--it felt like attending my own funeral.
Then again, my departure had been a joyous one. Most of the townsfolk looked forward to making the journey I was embarking upon--but none of them would understand the loss until they made the decision and left for themselves, taking the experience with them. While where I was going wasn't cold, it was unknown, and the place he was leaving was warm and familiar.
As I looked down into the satchel of provisions I had prepared, several mainstays of my previous life were lacking. First and foremost among them was the water from the well at the village's center. It was said that it led villagers to leave, though some had been there for years without showing a trace of its effects.
That bag was by no means empty! Among the various foodstuffs and camp supplies sat the beautiful crystal that had been given me by my chosen travelling companion. She had left some time before me, knowing that working in a trade caravan would be advantageous for us when we arrived. She had--accurately--predicted that I would miss her, and that it would be hard for me, so she had prepared for her absence from me. First had been a series of gifts and messages hidden with others in the town, and then had been this.
The bluish, clear cube rested largely on my open hand. Its cool warmth refreshed my skin from the Sun's toll, while it warmed my heart with memories. About once a day we were able to converse through it--in her foresight she had found a matched, tuned pair that could tunnel through the intervening distance and yield just such a connection. I polished it slightly, and in its own way it let me know with an irritated pinkish tinge that the connection wouldn't be open that day. I had been late leaving.
Sigh.
I looked down at my coarse all-weather tunic, up at the scorching sun, and out towards the mistwall that obscured my destination--a new adventure and a new home.
Thinking about her and the longer route she had taken, I started walking.