Story of the Forest I

         The leaves above were fluttering, and in the dusty light they almost appeared as bugs- verdant butterflies flitting about their business as if the canopy was their right thoroughfare. Yun blinked as the shadows shifted, and a shaft of light breached through, alighting upon his eyes. The shade soon returned, the boughs swaying in the chaotically peaceful manner of an Autumn breeze. "Yun, yeh donker, get yoor 'ead back t'Earth! The Wisp runs on a might fixed skeh-jew-ool, an' I can promise yeh he t'won't be makin' exceptions for the likes o' we." Yun snapped his neck back parallel to the dirt, where he found himself locking gazes with a fairly impatient looking woman, hands firmly affixed to her rag-covered old hips, gnarled wooden fingers tapping out a rhythm that moved just the slightest bit ahead of his own. He cleared his throat, "Aye, sorry there, mum. Let's getta move on, then." The woman let out a 'harumph' and fixed her ochre shawl. Yun rushed to her side and they continued through the brush and brambles along a path that any outsiders would dub nonexistent. For the two creatures, however, the road shone as clear as if it was paved with bricks of gold.

         They trudged on for a good hour, and the brilliant luminance of the evening had given way to mere trickles from the sleepy star above. The woods were relatively silent, the odd bird letting out a caw; the circumstantial squirrel chattering away about nothing. It was a tired night, and the seasons were getting colder- it was only natural that the gay sounds of summer had temporarily died away. The problem, though, was that the cold was seeming to come early this year- earlier than it had arrived last year, which, incidentally, had appeared even soon that the year prior to that. The cold itself wasn't necessarily bad. All the seasons had to have their slice per annum, there was no contesting that. It was part of the order of the world. Of course, the issue stemmed from the timing. Father Winter was encroaching upon the Lord Fall's allotment, and for the forest folk, that meant bad news. The crops were losing vigor, as was the fauna. The forest was undergoing it's yearly change too hastily, and the folk were feeling it in full. Now, the folk have historically been a peaceful lot, and so when the call rose up among them for action, it was to be expected that reluctance bubbled up in turn. Contesting voices of "you should's" and "well, I can't- you's" populated the folk's speech for weeks until it happened.

         "It," that is, being the frost. Never had the frost come so early, and none felt it's bite as deeply as Seema-of-the-Vines. She was known- and took nigh-grandiose pride in the fact- for her tomatoes, and in the wake of that first, dreadful freeze, not one survived. The woman grieved deeply internally, yet to the rest of the forest she showed only rage. You see, Seema was a hot-blooded woman, one of the older and more resilient folk, and she didn't take well to people infringing upon her comforts. Some might refer to Seema's disposition as 'spunk,' while others might bluntly call her 'intractible.' Regardless, she was certainly possessed of a certain kind of strength- as emotional as is was grounded in reality. It was for that reasons that when "it" happened, she, dragging her son, Yun, out of his cot in the middle of the night, stormed to the center of the commune, and blew the meeting horn. The horn was cracked and oaken, with intricate avian carvings and a similarly birdesque call. To an outsider, it might sound like some lovelorn jay, but to one of the folk it was undoubtedly the signal for a gathering.

         Within minutes the whole clearing had filled, every folk in the vicinity clearing their abodes to honor the horn. Every sort of folk had showed up, skins of mahogany, dogwood, and teak, beards that ran the gamut of greens, oranges, and reds, and hundreds of pairs of softly twinkling eyes. The crowd mumbled to itself, forming a wide circle around the fuming Seema and the dazed looking Yun, who had presently fallen back into slumber. "Roggi! Roggi, y'out there? I need t'talk to yeh! Rooooggi!" called the woman out over the assembled folk. From the rear of the assemblage a tiny voice called back- the inferiority of the vocation due to the relatively vast distance from which it originated, having nothing to do with any slight of the voice's progenitor- "Oy! Seema, y'ol' gell. I'm comin', I'm comin'!" Figures parted as the man known as Roggi-Yew-Hewn pushed his way through the throng. As the last of the forms parted, the man was revealed in his entirety- all knotty joints, and his head sporting a plume of beleafed twigs. "Seema!," he bellowed in a tone that despite being entirely daunting held a fair deal of warmth, "What's yoor reason for this 'ere calling, love?"

          His voice was much louder given his new proximity, and Seema winced a bit; Yun jolted awake with a little yell. He leaped to his feet and took stock of his situation. Anyone watching could quite literally read his thoughts from his little face, his lips mimicking his inner voice in the way startled way that only those completely flabbergasted can believably pull off. "Er, mum- what are...You, uh..." He paused, and took note that he was clad in his pinstripe ruby-and-gold pajamas. "That is- mum, what am I doin' in my pajamas?" The folk all burst out chuckling- truly a fair people, they truly love to laugh. Seema ignored her bewildered son, and addressed Roggi, who was the "Fairly Elected and Undeniably Venerable Chieftan of the Forest Folk, Subscript Grand Decider of Disputes, Settler of Aggravations, and Resolver of Conflicts, Wrongdoings, Et Al." Most of the folk forsook the lengthy title, and just called him Chief. Seema began, nearly spitting out her words, the rage leaking through her lips- "Roggi, this is it- this is the last liddle straw, y'hear me? It killed 'em! It killed every single teeny one! I jes' can't, I can't..." Her voiced trailed off, though her mouth continued to form voiceless syllables.

         Roggi reached out one of his gangly arms and placed it on Seema's shoulder. "Here, here, now, Seema. Tell us what happened.Then mebbe we can get ta' fixin' whatever it is." Seema nodded, hot, sappy tears beginning to run down the grooved bark of her cheeks. She choked back a smidge of a sob, the sadness creeping forward for the first time to fill the hole left by her progressively fleeting fury. "My to-mates, Roggi. They're gone. Nodevena yeller one made it. This frost t'isn't right, and if none of-," she paused, and turned to the crowd, sniffing a runny nose, "None of yeh are goin' to seek some fixin', then I'm-," she caught Roggi's eyes, "I'm liable to go meself!" Roggi sighed. There were younger folk. Folk that, perhaps lacking Seema's wisdom, made up for it with youth and fire. Folk that should be going out to fix things in lieu of the old woman who stood scared and maddened before him. "Seema, y'know I can't let yeh do that." He leaned in close to her, and whispered in a bass wheeze  that only she could make out. "These times- these matters- they're simply not befitting a lady sech as yoorself. A little more time, an' we'll surely figure out an able body to go. Come on, now, get back home. Get some sleep, Seema, and we'll sort this mess out tomorrow."

         Seema stepped back from the man, shaking her head, the glow of her eyes muted and bleary. "No," she muttered, and then a bit louder. "No! We've h'an't been able to sort this out for weeks, Roggi! I'm going! I'll fix this, or- or...Or nothing, by North! I'll be the one to fix this, sence none of yeh folks have the jimmies!" Roggi's lips tighted, and he straightened to his full, imposing height, stiff timbers creaking. "Seema, I di'n't want to say it, but yoor simply not fit to do this. We need someone limber an' young an' not so damned testy!" "Ha!," Seema shot back, "'Not so damned testy?' Well, then, I'll take Yun! How'ja like that?" The boy, who had remained silent and to the side, not sported wide eyes, and stumbled towards the two arguing persons, raising a finger and opening his mouth to opine. Before he could utter a sound, Roggi let forth another sigh and put his hand to his forehead. He tensed, a gesture as impressive as it was subtle, and Yun sank back in result. The chief loosened just as suddenly, and began to laugh- a real, heady chortle- and said, "Fine, fine. I shoulda figgered they're'd be no stoppin' yeh. Yun," he addressed the comparatively small young man, "Promise me yeh'll keep good watch o'er yer mum here. She's quite the spechul lady. You'll take good care,  innit that so?" Yun stared up at the looming Chief, and nodded with a dumb, blank look. "Grand!" shouted Roggi, who then whirled towards the assembly. "Seema-of-the-Vines and son will seek solution! 'Tis been decided! Goodspeed to thaym both!" The crowd echoed that last part, a motley of voices blurting out 'Goodspeed' in heartening disconcordance. "And so this gatherin' is o'er," Roggi declared, and, in accordance, the folk began to dissipate with as much haste as they arrived. The clearing was emptied save for Roggi, Seema, and a very stunned Yun.