Wayward is how Mul leaves her. The leaves are both soggy and crunchy underneath her back side. The Keeper went on to become a wonder, maybe in her own mind. The last thing Alphiea saw was the Keeper’s exposed vagina, an invitation for the harvest.
What should she do right now? Stay close to the old firmament? Or get up and wander into the darkness? There is no one here to help her decide. For the first time in her existence, she feels the chill. And she can’t go up to the Sacred Tree to find the light.
It’s not about you.
She opens her eyes to look for the voice. It is neither masculine nor feminine. Its breath hangs in the air.
Mul will clothe her. He can’t leave her like this, exposed in a nothing. Her form is new. The Sacred Tree will miss her. No, maybe not. Sacred Tree was tired of her and the serpent, always quarreling. There was no balance. Perhaps that’s why they got cast out. And the bird too. Bird was a mess, always leaving droppings, never cleaning up after itself.
She turns over. Now that bulky thing behind her feels a gust. She pushes herself with her arms. For a second, she feels like she can get all the way up to her feet. But the arms collapse and she falls on her breasts.
Heya.
Is that in her mind again?
Pick me up, and I’ll show you how.
She follows the voice. The rocks there. Who are they?
Here, here, you useless creature.
And then it’s there, a bulbous thing. A cheeky thing. A mushroom creeping through the rocks.
Yes, it’s me. You are so close. And you do not see. But you do see.
And the the extraordinary. The mushroom lights up to its full potential. She stares at the ridiculous psilosybin dancing between the rocks. And it has a little face, smiling at her like the Fool.
No, no. You’re the Fool.
She tries again and manages to drag herself. What is that? A sharp thing on her belly? A sensation she has never felt before. She cries out.
You’ll get used to that. Go on. Come here.
She wants to stop. The sensation is too much and her new skin is too sensitive. By the time she gets to the mushroom, the skin will be marked. She won’t be new.
Don’t you think this is your first test? This is the easiest one. It’s all shit after that. And I know a thing or two about shit.
Why is it still talking? Why won’t it shut up?
If you want me to shut up, come here.
The fire comes through her eyes. Ah, there it is. She begins again, pulling herself with her arms, dragging herself towards the illuminous thing that is mocking her…
Pain. It’s called pain!
That fuels her further to it. After what seems like an Aeon, it is there, in her face. She sees the tiny stem wedged between the rocks, its mushroom head lights up with satisfaction. Without a word between them, she reaches out and plucks him with her now bruised hand.
The mushroom doesn’t seem bothered and for no reason at all, she places it on her shoulder, like a parot on a pirate. And for no reason at all, she pulls herself up to her feet, a bit wobbly, but stays steady.
I’m really proud of you right now.
And the tone is sardonic, but the intention is kind. It reaches over and kisses her on the jaw, where suddenly the pain thing happens. And that’s not nice at all.
‘What did you do?’
She opens her mouth and sticks her fingers inside. She feels the flesh and the groves. Hard things prick her fingers. One of the hard things is pushing up beyond the flesh. And the pain thing again until it’s too much. She crashes on the ground where the leaves, and sticks and rocks are waiting to bruise her skin.
She looks up beyond the stars and hears him smiling. The mushroom jumps to her face and buries its head in her cheek. She feels a sensation in her chest cavity that will spill out, she’s sure of it. Like the light inside the mushroom, bursting with possibilities.
Congratulations, wisdom toof. I didn’t think you’d make it this far.
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