The Archer's Spirit

The crow finally landed on an old oak's branch not ten yards away. After nearly an hour of following it, having to crouch behind bushes and adopt a shielding tree's winding shape, Kione's hunt would not be in vain. He studied it cautiously, inching nearer until he had a nearby thorn bush's covering for protection. This bird had taunted him long enough. Kione knew there was a possibility this was indeed not the same crow who had awakened him at midnight every night by pecking at his cottage's window beside his bed, but something deep inside told him to not let it go again.
The silver crescent gave enough light, despite its attempt to shield itself within the forest's shadows. Kione was truly relieved this crow had waited for him to dress and grab his bow and two arrows. It had still been on the thin windowsill when he made his way out, both staring at one another as if the other was a mad fool against his brilliant foe. Then it had flown a few dozen feet away, Kione running after it, and stopped every so often so that the man would not be too far away to lose its trail. Perhaps this bird was just a one-night intruder, and not a fortnight's; either way, it had decided for some reason to wake, meet, and entice the archer.
Now they watched one another as before, waiting to see who would make the first move. The crow seemed to look around, assuring itself they were as alone as they could be in this forest. Kione did the same, an eerie feeling causing the hairs to stand on the back of his neck. Slowly, not to scare the prey, he ran his hand through the mess of auburn waves which crept but an inch above his shoulders; he tightened the knot around his dark cloak as well, shivering in the moonlight's chill. He could already feel the warmth inside his small home, the promise of an interrupted sleep.
Kione adjusted an arrow, running his fingers down the side of one of the feathers, against the smooth bow.  "Take aim," he mumbled under his breath, doing what he spoke. "Take a breath." He did this as well. "Take the shot." The arrow spiraled directly toward the crow, its cry preceding a violent gust of wind which had Kione grappling for roots and vines and whatever else could keep him grounded. It left as soon as it came, the man hesitantly raising his head to return to the task which had coaxed him from his sliver of civilization high on the hill his cottage stood overlooking two or three others. 
The crow had vanished, the arrow in the center of the branch it had used as its perch. Kione clenched his fists to his sides, dropping the bow where he stood and eyeing the arrow carefully. It was a good arrow, one he should have known better than to use for the first attempt; thinking back to before its release, Kione remembered a voice in his head telling him this bird was far too cunning to be struck so swiftly and with such ease. Too cunning for Kione's human arrogance. He cursed not the creature but the forest in which it dwelt; hearing voices, being attacked my winds, and missing such a perfect target was something he had never before encountered. 
He sighed, reluctantly shedding the maroon cloak. Despite the now biting chill in the air, it would have only hindered his undertaking of retrieving the arrow. He scanned over the large oak, noticing how there were nearly countless branches jutting from it in every direction; at least it would be easy to climb. The mission was brief and painless until he reached where the arrow had been trapped. At first he thought his eyes were now the ones playing tricks on him, but his hand gliding over it proved the reality.  Twigs and their leaves seemed to surround where it had not stuck, tightly entwining around the feathers and tip. He remembered not seeing such an odd patch of growth before even aiming.. Yet it seemed as if the greenery had formed for, not just around the thin arrow. The tree had claimed it as its own.
Well, it was still Kione's; that is how he looked at the situation. He sighed, pulling at the twigs and throwing down the leaves, clawing for what was his. He hesitated, mouth open as it all grew back as quickly as he was fighting it. Trying to blink away what was surely a dream only made everything grow faster. He glanced down, pausing from his trance as he felt a gentle touch winding around his wrist. Before he could rationalize, he realized the same was happening to his boots. Kione tried balancing on one and shaking the other free, yet its grip was too strong. He jerked and struggled with the tangling, growing twigs, finally mustering enough strength to pull fully back. Yet everything released him at the same moment.
He cried out, falling a dozen yards and landing on his back with a deep, sounding thud. It echoed in his hears, Kione groaning and gritting his teeth at the sudden pain throbbing up his spine. He shut his eyes, not willing to learn the ache simple movement would create. "Take a breath," he gasped. "Take a breathe." 
He could hear his heart pounding to be set free, then something much sweeter and softer he had not known before. Hesitant, his eyes fluttered open, revealing a lighter forest and sky. It would soon be sunrise. Kione was amazed he had drifted to sleep; he knew he was tired, but exhaustion had not once occurred to him. Perhaps it was shock from falling from a thieving tree. He pushed on his hands, hoping to sit. The unfamiliar noise ceased, and he felt a gentle force keeping him still. 
"Do not move," a voice said, seeming at the side of him. He did as it commanded, looking from either side yet finding nothing but an empty, quiet forest. The noise began again, and Kione realized it was someone humming. Yet it sounded nothing like the deepness in his while he worked or pride after a successful hunt; this was pure. At first he thought he knew the tune, though realized his version was much quicker and meant as a promise of prosperity. This was hummed with peace, Kione guessing its purpose was to prove he had lost all sanity from the fall. Perhaps the voice was an angel telling him he was near death.
Kione was not known as one for being unfriendly; whatever this presence proved to be, he did not want to seem unkind. Not when it seemed to only desire him to rest. He cleared his throat, grinning to himself at what he was preparing to do. His was more forced, yet warm and joyful. The voice stopped its own, either listening intently to Kione's interpretation of the ancient melody or vanishing in the instant it was interrupted. After a minute he was near ceasing, deciding he was truly all alone and simply keeping himself company; yet the moment the idea entered his head, the same voice followed his brisk rhythm, both humming together until they had gone through it three times. 
A sweet, gentle laugh followed, Kione realizing in the instant this was far from any ordinary voice. It was a gay and simple, piercing little noise. It was also as beautiful as it was enchanting. Kione knew the stories of the creatures who lived in certain forests, but he never believed they were real, let alone but a league from where he lived. Speaking was more of a strain than the song, but the man was not about to let this being escape when so near-if not already within-his reach. "May I see you, spirit?" he whispered. Silence was all that accompanied his request; Kione feared it had left him, being insulted by his plea or no longer caring since he was not yet to die.
Another fierce wind suddenly attacked the man, Kione lifting his arms over his eyes to shield them from any debris; pain spreading due to his reaction, he doubted he would be able to do anything else if something worse came along. "I told you to not move." Everything was calm again. Before he could lower his hands, someone was already returning him to the position in which he was found. He stared toward where the voice had reappeared, an instant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he met the spirit's gaze. She was as captivating as her song,  her jade eyes returning his smile though her scarlet lips formed a pout. She repeated herself as if he had not given her warning any heed, Kione deciding she was an excellent judge of character. Everything said before he watched her long, chestnut-colored hair flow over her shoulders and to her waist had gone.
"I asked the ground to provide your comfort," she stated, gliding a hand over both his arms to relieve the ache. "and the moon to give you rest while I healed you." Before he could ask, she continued and answered his doubt. "I could not, however, because something prevented me." She glanced toward the great oak before turning back to him. "Yet now that you are awake, perhaps-" she became quiet suddenly, looking away from him and hiding her face from the stately tree. "I know," she whispered, sighing and placing her hands in her lap. Kione did not believe he wanted to understand or hear the conversation she shared with someone else; he only desired her to speak with him. Taking hold of her nearer hand, he stunned the spirit, her eyes falling again to his. 
He brought her touch atop his chest, taking a deep breath and feeling her cringe at the force it took. "Will you tell me your name, spirit?" he asked, shutting his eyes to hear her speak with no other sound but his quickening heartbeat due to her hand in his. 
He knew she spoke in reluctance, but that did not matter to him; her voice was all the healing he craved. He needed more, of course, but she would do until someone found him nearly frozen to death perhaps days later. He decided her name alone was like a short  hum. "Eve." She attempted to draw her hand away, Kione gently pulling her back. "Why will you not listen to me?" she asked, a hint of pleading in her voice. 
All he could think of as an answer was what he had been thinking since she appeared. "You- are beautiful," he breathed, allowing her touch to remain or fall as it desired so that he could stroke her face; he was somewhat surprised as she did the same to his chest, his eyes watching her hand travel down then return up before venturing down again. He sighed as it became warm and a familiar feel, Alan realizing her grin was so much more beautiful than her pout, despite its allurement. "Sweet, sweet spirit," he whispered. "Say you will stay with me? I beg of you not to leave."
"My mother did not intend to hurt you," she began, trying to keep him still; yet he was far more determined to grow cold with her touch than she was to prevent his wanted ache. "She believed she was protecting the creature you call an arrow; you should not have fought her."
"Your mother," he asked, reveling in her caress as she brushed his long bangs to the side. "Gentle Eve," the man sighed. "My Eve."
He decided she had a natural gift for avoiding certain comments. "Yes. My mother." She looked toward the oak, smiling as another wind appeared yet only at the tree's trunk, leaves of every shade dancing around it. Around her. "I am made in her image." Kione studied her, thinking to himself he truly did see a likeness. The only thing he could not understand is why she wore a long, billowing gown of the purest white just reaching her pale, bare ankles. Her smile broadened for his study, Eve nodding once as if he voiced his question aloud. "These trees will be blanketed in snow soon," she answered.
"Why does she not allow you to heal me, Eve?" He prayed to the oak the young spirit woman did not hear the slight hint of fear and anxiety in the man's voice. Eve's frown gave reason to believe the tree cared more for being honest with her daughter rather than the dignity of an intruder. She tried to look away, but it was in vain, his hand on he chin and desperate for her gaze. "Do not leave me with a final memory of you, Eve," he pleaded. 
The crow," she mumbled, shaking her head to end her mother's voice and demand to leave him. "You were ready to commit murder in front of her-of one of her children! And-and you do not seem to have any guilt. How can she allow you to live when she had to prevent her own from death by a human's hand? I know he was taunting you; Mother is bestowing his proper punishment, but-" 
"One of your brothers?" he asked, stroking her cheek until she looked from her lap again. She nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow. He did not know whether to attribute it to her brother or the man she now soothed. "Do you not think this hand, the same hand which held the bow and aimed the arrow, is gentle, dear Eve?" She nodded, her visage insistent on him knowing the truth. "I give you my word, had I known he was of your family, I would not have dared to do such-not if I knew it would cause you and this forest pain."
She left before he could even attempt pulling her back. The spirit slowly, as if gliding, made her way before the great oak; she fell to her knees, bowing and chanting in a language Kione had never heard. She did this for several minutes, the man desiring nothing more than to have her return to his side and allow him again her touch. Finally she rose, bestowing a kiss to its base and uttering a shorter, similar chant. Eve faced him again, her back against the Mother Oak. "Take heed," she whispered. "Take strength. Take peace." 
Kione had not felt the push against his chest until he was suddenly free, gasping for air in his release. He turned back to the spirit in time to see her collapse against the tree. She could hear him call out to her, yet it was not until she was against him did she open her eyes. She tried to speak, yet only mumbling as she fell in his embrace. "You did it, Eve," he breathed, holding her securely in his arms. "You saved me. You did it." He stroked her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair, pleading with her to be all right. Eve still against his frame, he reached for the cloak he had discarded not far from where they sat, throwing it around her shoulders and pulling her closer and tighter in his grasp. "Damn it, Eve. Damn it! Why will you not look at me. Tell me what is hurting you."
Her hand shook as she stretched it toward the tree. "Your-pain," she choked, shivering despite the warmth of his bulk. "It could not simply vanish. Thank the forest you are all right."
"Eve!" His voice became hoarse, Kione feeling a sting in his eyes. He would not lose her after just knowing her. "Return it, Eve. Do not suffer for me. Please-do as I say, love. I need you. I rather die than cause you this! Take heed; take strength; take peace. Take heed; take strength; take peace! Why will you not heal?"
"Love?" she breathed. He nodded, pulling her with him and leaning against the oak. "Do you truly love me? I must know."
"I do," he pleaded for her to know he meant it; that the word was meant only for her. "I need and want nothing but you. Take heed; take peace-"
"Take me." He was startled by her forced interruption. "You must take me with you. If you love me, you can make me mortal and I will not die for many years. What is your name?"
"K-Kione," he stuttered, eying her curiously as if what she said were but mad ramblings. It did not seem possible; then again, he was in love with a forest spirit by the name of Eve who had sacrificed herself to save him. "Will it truly revive you? Tell me, and I will do whatever to return your goodness, my dear, dying Eve." He sobbed the last of his request, her arms snaking around his neck.
"Kione," she repeated, a feint smile gracing her countenance. "I love you, Kione."
"My Eve," he sighed into her long hair. "I love you, Eve." She ran a hand down the side of face, ceasing when she came to his lips. She nodded, again answering a silent question, as she dropped her touch to his chest. Helping her sit straight, he leaned nearer and pressed a kiss to her awaiting smile, feeling it deepen beneath him. She never wanted him to pull away; a kiss was such a wonderful thing, and she feared what the results would be when he finally needed a breath. "My Eve. My Eve." She was amazed he could still speak without parting. It was a fascination she would need to study and learn. 
Eventually he drew away, despite her futile attempt to keep him against her. Both stared at the other, awaiting something either surreal or frightening to occur; it proved to be both. At first her toes tingled, followed by her ankles, then her calves. When the sensations reached her knees, they were nearly unbearable. She cried out, as slowly and painfully as the pricking, and moaning could only accompany her shrieks. He tried to hold her, thinking he could give some relief, but she became restless as the pain crept higher up her writhing frame. 
She locked her hands around him, sobbing into his chest before it could take her grasp as well from the man. "Kione! Kione, say it again! Say you love me!" She cringed as she spoke, kicking at nothing as a numbness began as well.
Wrapping an arm around her legs and another over her arms, he slowly rocked her in his hold despite her desire to be perfectly still. "I love you, Eve." He sounded like an echo, promising it between strong kisses to whatever part of her skin would remain still long enough.
"I love you! I love you, Kione! Mother, please!" she wailed, her tears seeping through his sleeve within seconds.  "Kione, kiss it away!" She clawed at her dress and skin, tearing both as she tried to end the pain.
He tried again, choking as every attempt did the same as before-nothing but increase her agony. "Eve, my dearest Eve," he began, dragging his lips down her neck with the last of his hope. "Damn it, this is not enough."
"I know," she  howled, twisting in his hold and pulling at the front of her gown. "I need more, Kione; kiss me again!"
He shook his head though bestowed a quick peck to the top of her head, whispering her name countless times in vain as it also had no effect. "You need more, love," he spoke through a knot in his throat. "If a kiss is the cause of this, only something much stronger can relieve it."
She stared into his knowing gaze, sobbing and shaking, having given up her will to bear through the piercing torture. "Is there something more?" The spirit did not believe him. All she had ever heard of for ending one's pain was a kiss; yet she knew no others who had taken on a human's. 
Kione gave her a small smile, nodding and running a hand down her back. "Much more, my love." She nodded as well, allowing him to do whatever was necessary to end the excruciatingly slow transition. He lay her on the ground before him, the cloak underneath. She seemed to cry more because she no longer was atop his lap, yet he knew soon all her torment would cease for the love she did not know. "Do you trust me, Eve?" he asked suddenly, an arm across her. "I need your trust like you need my love." 
"I do, Kione," she whimpered. "I trust you with all my soul." She took hold of his arm, panting and watching as his caress traveled down the full length of her body. She was mesmerized already. "I love you, Kione."
"I love you, Eve-with all my heart." He looked from her to the Mother Oak then back to his Eve. She would not be a spirit for much longer, but simply his. His to hold and cherish away from this forest and all it had done to its daughter. 

She shivered, the cloak wrapped and tightened around her bare visage, as he stood and dressed himself. Lifting her from the oak and into his arms, he kissed every visible inch of her not shielded from the cool breeze of morning's first light. "I love you," he whispered, beaming as her soft giggling sounded throughout the forest. It was the last noise they would receive of her. 
Eve studied his shining blue eyes, smiling as he did the same with her. "I am no longer part of this forest," she began quietly. "but my spirit is with them. I see your spirit as well. Would you like to know where yours secretly dwells?" Kione seemed taken back for a moment, but nodded in the next instant.  As long as she would forever be with him-whatever a mortals' forever may be-she could do whatever she desired and tell him any secrets she thought important. "Your eyes are for water, Kione; this is why you so dearly wept for me." She pulled herself up slightly, bestowing a kiss to his cheek. "Your hair is the color of a sunrise atop the ocean's waves. Your strength is that of a tide's pull; and your kindness is like a calm sea keeping the drowning afloat.  My dear, Kione," she said with another kiss. 
"Forever, Eve." He watched as the wind carried away her tattered gown, Eve having no need for it any longer. Assuring himself she was fully covered and securely  in his hold,  he turned away from the Mother Oak toward the way he had came.
She had startled him with the break of silence. "Your things!" she cried, revealing an unclothed arm as she pointed toward his bow and the single arrow. 
"I no longer need them," he spoke softly, hiding her hand away with the rest of the young woman. Kione carried her to his home silently, except, of course, for the often promise of one another's love or the audible peck one bestowed to then receive. Eve rested her head against his chest, sighing at the thought of never again being able to safely enter this forest and remain both mortal and living; yet a life, no matter how short it would prove to be, with Kione was worth the separation. She voiced her thoughts, Kione feeling a sudden guilt for being the reason she was forced to choose. "What if I accompanied you?" he asked.
Eve stared blankly at the man, laughing kindly in response. "Kione, the Mother Oak would never allow you anywhere near this place again."
"Because of the crow?" he questioned, startled it had to be a bird over the beautiful tree spirit turned human. 
She shook her head, a broad smile enhancing her enchantment. "Because you loved me in front of my mother!" she giggled, leaving the man speechless. He had not even realized-not only in front, but he had also loved the woman beside and perhaps once even atop the mother's roots. He did not dare think what would come upon him if his presence was ever again felt inside the forest; but he had Eve for never giving him reason to stray away from their home. His fear was replaced by an anticipation for all the days he would spend with his love.

Not a year later she bore a son. His features were the exact same as Eve's, and his love for the simple nature around him only added to her suspicions he would one day be great and known for his spirit. The three of them lived happily in the cottage, Kione never again being awakened by a crow but the cries of his child or hum of his wife. They lived in peace, their only worry keeping their son away from the nearby forest. Both feared what might meet with Keith if he were ever to stumble upon the great oak.
One day everything seemed to change in an instant. Eve had become ill, and could not be left alone. Her fever increased every day for a week, and she soon became bedridden. Kione was broken by the idea of her not being able to recover, and refused to ever leave her side. They had tried every remedy and ever natural healing she knew but one, and its chief ingredient could only be found in the center of the forest. Kione and Eve knew they could do nothing else, the boy not understanding why if it was within their reach they could not travel to the forest and retrieve this flower. Yet every answer was the same-silence. Eve could no longer eat or drink, and mustering the strength to breathe became a difficult task. Kione knew she would die eventually, but he never imagined it to be so prolonged and painful especially for him. All she would allow him to do now was kiss her good morning, afternoon, and night; she simply could not bare anymore. 
Keith knew his mother did not have much longer, deciding the only possibility for her recovery and his father's wellbeing was him venturing to where they had forbidden him. She needed that plant, and he would weather any danger if it meant she could live; at the very least, the reason for his death would be a noble one. He had secretly crept away into the night's shadows, determined to return by morning. The forest was dark and eerie, but it was also midnight. His only light was a crescent high in the sky acting also as his only companion. But a few miles in, he found a large oak with branches jutting out in every direction. He had finally grown weary, being but a child, and he feared the forest would only take him deeper in to never find his way out.
Keith fell to his knees, sobbing before the oak. Suddenly he heard a voice echoing in a quick wind, requesting his gaze return to the tree before him. The voice told him it knew his mother, and he in turn told this hidden voice she was dying and he was in need of a certain flower to save her life. He was answered by an instant breeze, leaves of all colors dancing around him. It told him his spirit was of the forest like his mother's, an honor he should be grateful to have. 
The voice then spoke of the difficulties in an unlearned spirit's saving a mortal's life, for it was almost a trade. One could become a spirit, or another could die. It told him of his mother's decision to become mortal, which was a slow and saddening death; yet her death would be sooner than expected. The voice repeated what Keith knew-there was only one way to save her. His only surprise was the voice telling him he could not leave without the flower and save his mother, for only in the care of a forest spirit could it properly be used in healing. A life without his mother and father, or a life in which his mother was dead and his father could only be tormented by guilt and sorrow-Keith did not hesitate.
Inside the cottage, Kione turned to the sound of an urgent pecking at the window. It was the same crow, a bright lavender flower in its peak. Having been welcomed in, the crow entered and quickly bit the stem and petals into small enough pieces for Eve to swallow, Kione holding open her mouth as the bird dropped in piece by piece. It stayed with them for three days, until Eve was completely healed. Finally the crow was able to deliver its message, Eve understanding its thoughts and repeating them to Kione. 
She stared as if he was telling her this horribly incredible story, yet her eyes filled with tears in its truth. "Kione," she wept, grabbing for her husband's hand. "Keith-he went inside the forest." Kione stood and grabbed the axe he kept beside the door, silently mourning already as her pleas for his return sounded so distant. "Please, my love," she sobbed, reaching for his touch. He did as she requested, reluctant as he lay the axe atop the small table. "Corbin, what has she done with him?" Kione watched as all the color drained from her face in an instant, Eve grabbing hold of him before wailing into his chest. 
"What is it, Eve?" he tried, his voice more forced and harder than he had intended. "Where is our boy?"
She shook her head, sobbing for several moments before she could catch her breath. "His spirit," she gasped. "He is hers now." It took everything she had to prevent him from going after Keith. While Eve saw only a lonely life for her son and sadness for herself and husband instead of his presence, Kione saw the need to reclaim what was his. He could not deny he had taken Eve from the Mother Oak; yet Keith was nothing but a similar spirit and did not deserve to know the same the woman had for nearly a century.
The crow spoke again before Kione could make his leave or at least another attempt, Eve quieting her sobs to hear him. "Is this true, Corbin?"
"What? What is it saying, Eve?" the man asked, every bit as desperate as his voice made him sound.
She took a steady breath, thanking the bird for his quick speed. Eve turned back to the man, throwing her arms around his neck before continuing her weeping. "He is safe. He is content. The creatures and animals love him like he has been there his entire life."
Kione held her tighter shaking his head fiercely. "He is ours, Eve. He is ours."
"I know, my love. He will return to us though, Corbin says. He will return soon and we can once again be a family." They embraced one another, Eve listening intently to every word of Keith's message he had sent by the crow. "Every day he will send someone to tell us of his play with the animals and his love for us, and we can do the same. He does not want life to be as if we are separated, because he says we are not. He says by his spirit we never will."
Keith climbed after squirrels and chased after butterflies, at first his task but to heal little creatures whom had been struck incidentally by nature's strength. As he grew older, the forest became more than his play, but his world except for his mother and father with whom he had contact every day and night. Mother animals tried raising him as their own, but he knew too well despite the Mother Oak's attempts his mother was the great former forest spirit Eve, his father the archer whom she had saved and loved. He lived in the forest for nearly a decade, watching over every living creature who dwelt or stumbled upon nature's secrets or power. His final day with Mother Oak was also the day he found a girl, frightened and lost, with hair like fire and eyes the color of rising smoke. At first glance, he knew this mortal was to accompany him back to a cottage where lived a previous tree spirit, a veiled water spirit, and a baby with black hair and eyes as dark as a stormy night.

Reviews

[Mia]

This is a wonderful story and I thoroughly enjoyed the plot. You describe things beautifully and it brings the story to life. If I could advise you on one thing...it would be easier to read if you didn't have such complex and long sentences. With such long and complex you lose track of what you're saying and then I lose track of what you are saying. There were a lot of sentences I had to read twice to understand. Rule of thumb...one idea per sentence. I hope I made sense and that this was helpful.
PS...sorry it took me so long to get here.

[Sarah Marie]

I understand and thank you for the review! I appreciate it and your criticism.

[Mia]

Oh no, please don't say criticism...I don't like the word. It has negative connotations. You're welcome :)