The Ana had negotiated a year prior with a still young Birch tree that grew the loveliest pink blossoms (an appealing mutation to the small clan). They were informed the tree would be honored to host their surviving brood as they moved into adulthood. The Ana were overjoyed and preparations for the metamorphosis began not long after the approval. Gifts were lain upon the roots of the bearer. The larva were coaxed to the branches where they fed and slept. Finally, the time came, and the larva spun their silk cocoons. Now all clan Ana could do was wait.
Watcher Tal had been the first to note the soft telltale glow from one of the pods. He opened his wings wide and signaled. Each Faloran who noticed sent the signal forward, and in no time, the great feast was lain out around the tree; tables full of plates full of preserved delicacies kept for just such an occasion. Lights were strung up about the area. Music rang through the valley. The celebration was at hand. The cocoons shifted and glowed; not yet words but recognition of thought. Wea’Ana set up the betting pools. Po put their best sunflower seeds on the quietest pod. A visiting sweet placed a jar of honey on one of the others.
By the time she emerged from her pod, the party had been in swing for some time. The moon was high and bright and the stars drew warm and welcoming images on the endless sprawling void. She held tight to the branch and blinked. She stretched her wings, the warm evening air taking its time in drying the slimy fluids from her long sleep. She breathed. Her lights faded in and out, ever so slowly. She moved her mandibles and let out a few soft clicks. The sound of the party faded, ever so slightly. When it faded back in, she looked around. There were still some who had yet to break out, but eager Flits were already collecting the remains of dried silks still clinging to the tree. She looked at her host, who had finally managed a soft purple greeting glow. She understood it well enough. She’d seen it before, she was sure. She looked at the tree for a long time, her vision wrapped up in its marvel. Through another’s eyes she saw a mother, young and afraid but still with a glow on her face, cradling a child. The child was soft and content. Its heart burned like a star. The world was warm in every way. With a conscious thought she closed one of her eyes. She was brought back to herself and the tree. The first words she flashed were of thanks, and she touched her forehead to the branch before dropping, gently, down to the ground.
She looked out upon the crowds that were celebrating. A smaller flit, gentle black chitin, red and gold wings approached her with wings and arms outstretched. She took a shy step back and folded her wings small against her. The other flit wiggled their antennae and responded with a soft chitter and some quiet flashes. They held out a limb, a request. She took it and tentatively stepped forward. They ran gentle fingers over her fresh chitin, all four eyes scanning every detail. Four eyes. She moved her own and counted as each one responded. Why was she counting five? They made it up to her face, eyes focused on her own eyes; no, on perhaps something else. They did not have to touch the one that was closed for her to open it. A surprised click was followed by a jump back from the investigative flit. She shrunk down again. Had she done something wrong? She allowed her newly opened eye to focus on the other. She did not understand what she saw, but she was aware of how it all felt. Joy, care, and curiosity reflected in that soul; the spark of the star filled her own once more. She managed to close her eye again and the images and the feelings faded. The flit was clapping. They pointed to her eye. The others clapped too. Wings fluttered and shone in celebration. She relaxed, letting her antennae uncurl and her wings come back out a bit.
The flit gestured to themself and chittered. Their name was Fen’Ana. Fen gestured at her with one limb, another held out once more as a request. They chittered and flashed and fluttered their wings. Ve; that was her name. Ve took Fen’s hand and chittered happily. Fen led Ve to one of the tables still filled with food. The feast wouldn’t end until dawn after the last of the cocoons opened.
The beginning of a new adventure, rooted in the celebration of life.
A Quiet Respite 