The Light of Elysium

47 - Journey by night

(Elissa PoV)

Dry leaves make up my bed and while the large weeping branches above my head are bare, the falling snow is unable to penetrate the willow dryad's bower. I should be sleeping, but my mind is a whirling mess. I keep going over the events of last night.

Last night I had lain with my head against Aren's chest, lulled by his steady heartbeats. It would have been so easy to have fallen asleep in his warm embrace. Sure, we would have been in trouble if discovered, but I so desperately wish that I was with him now.

Instead, I left him sleeping ever so peacefully and walked away from the best thing in my life. It practically broke my heart to do it. Then outside, I was greeted by a night as somber as my mood; there was no moon or stars to light my way and the half-frozen drizzle compounded my misery.

My night of torment was far from over, for the ghostly figures of three nymphs awaited me in the inky black water. Terror gripped me and for a moment I was almost as frozen as the ice-encrusted bank. It was no small feat on my part to slip into the frigid river. Thankfully, the nymph's touch staved off the biting cold.

All through the remains of the night they propelled me through the water, effortlessly moving against the current, until the grey of pre-dawn forced them to seek shelter for me. True to the beech dryad's word, I have found sanctuary with one of her sister dryads.

Which brings me to where I am now.  A sob catches in my throat and fresh tears well in my already reddened eyes. I clutch Aren's shirt to me. It smells of him and makes me regret that I am not back in his arms. I'm not certain that I have done the right thing.

"Shh," the willow dryad croons and strokes my head.

She has slender limbs and long trailing green hair cascading almost to her feet. The skirts of her dress are stiff, with deep ridges, similar to the furrowed bark on the tree. She starts to sing about the seasons. I can't understand the words, yet somehow I know their meaning. I close my tired eyes and images of spring replacing the barren days of winter flicker within my mind.

.....

When I awake, it is already growing dark again. I feel less fragile, but certainly hungry. Possibly hearing my stomach rumble, the dryad smiles and hands me two wooden vessels. The goblet is filled with sweet, refreshing liquid and the bowl contains a hunk of a nutty kind of bread, which is incredibly filling.

Barely have I finished when a silvery-blue head pops up from the water. "We must make haste," the nymph calls with a voice like a babbling brook.

After thanking the dryad, I sink into the icy embrace of the river. I guess this is one way of facing my phobia of drowning.

On and on we glide. It is quite hypnotic being suspended in the darkness, not really seeing where I'm going, but aware of the water sluicing around my body.

Many hours later, the monotony is broken when a foaming wave crashes over my head and causes me to choke. We are buffeted from all sides and for the first time since they started aiding me, the nymphs struggle to swim against the current. I try to remain calm, but can feel terror start to sink its claws into me.

Somehow we struggle along and they manage to steer me into a small inlet, where the water is less turbulent.

"We can carry you no more," one trills.

"Make your own way to the far side of the waterfall and we can resume our journey," instructs another. 

Then they submerge, disappearing into the water like phantoms. I clamber out and double over as the shock of the cold air hits me like a punch to the guts. Crawling over slippery rocks, I ungraciously make my way to firm ground. All the while my teeth chatter so hard it's a wonder that there's no damage.