Clarion Calling

April 22nd 2023

The sound of my footsteps cuts through the moisture-laden atmosphere. The Storm has finally passed, and the forest floor lays blanketed with leaves and small branches, snapping beneath the weight of my body as I run. My soaking hair lays flat and sticks to my cheeks and neck and my eyes burn, having been stung by rain and tears.

Breathless, I slow to a walk and find myself approaching a clearing in the trees. I rub my eyes and continue forward, until light breaks through the branches of the oaks, leading me to a small, frigid tarn. A young crow startles and catches my attention, as he rises from his resting place and flies out of sight. A glint of sunlight flashes from where the fledgling sat; a screw in an old dock, which lays enveloped by green overgrowth.

I step onto the landing, and as it sways beneath my feet, ripples break the glasslike surface. A school of minnows dart out from underneath the rotting, wooden planks and I sit for a moment, catching my breath. I close my eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of sound rushes through the trees and across the water; a Clarion Calling, I recognize, from a place I used to call home. But when I open my eyes, I am surrounded by nothing but a breeze, tracing my collarbone to my shoulder and running down my spine, raising the hairs on the nape of my neck.

A perturbing caw to my left pulls me from my desperate thoughts and I look up, gazing into the soft blue eyes of the crow. His raspy call evinces uneasiness.

I brush dried mud from my shins and calves and I look at him once more, as he leers at me, seemingly in warning and forethought. I stand to my feet.

And I run.