#in real life it's dark green moss and I'm not mad

[fastwiemagie]

POV: you're broke but couldn't resist the beautiful bat fabric (and wanted to try this new online fabric store anyways).

[the-gothmother-writes]

#3 The Dryads

Pastel awoke with a jerk, the night had faded into a crisp morning and she was lying down surrounded by giant flowers. Where was she?

She rubbed her eyes, her stiff joints aching at moving even the slightest inch, and she was freezing. She tried to remember what happened last night, looking around in dazed confusion.

She had met Helena last night, but had she really? She was very clearly not in her house, so it had to be real.

Pastel staggered to her feet, shaking her hands from the icy dew that drenched her. She looked around. Bees bumbled in the flowers that dripped with morning dew, she was in a large garden. Helena said something about a garden. She glanced around, trying to find a way out, paths were marked by small stones and she began following them mindlessly. The air was fresh, cold and smelled of lilacs, roses and sweet herbs.

There was a large oak tree in the center that caught her attention, it seemed to breath with her and Pastel began to stare at it, captivated by the gnarled bark and heavy green moss that cloaked it.

She got closer, feeling the bark under her fingers. It was a large tree, and maybe she could climb it to gather her bearings.

Pastel looked around and grabbed the closest foot hold, hoisting her small, willowy form up the trunk.

"Ow!" Cried a voice that startled her so much, she dropped back to the floor.

"Oh! Who are you!?" Gasped a feminine voice that dripped with honey and swayed like leaves. Pastel looked up, seeing double. Above her, the tree stooped, and she could see the outline of a woman begin to detach herself from the trunk, her eyes glowing a dark, emerald green.

"You are not of the Garden. Where do you come from sapling?" Asked the Dryad that stood over her. Pastel pushed herself back to her feet, looking up at the Dryad that towered over her, her eyes wide in disbelief. A talking tree... Was she dreaming? Had she gone mad? The forest must've been getting to her.

"You must be terribly lost," said the Dryad. Pastel nodded.

"I am Oka, my sisters are spread through the forest," she said. Pastel smiled hesitantly.

"H-hi, Oka. I'm Pastel, I uh, I got a bit lost last night. Do you know Helena?" She asked.

The Dryad's eyes flickered for only second at the name and she smiled again.

"she runs the garden...she must've brought you here," she murmured. Pastel shrugged.

"must've..." She murmured. She was talking to a tree...if her brother saw her, he'd run screaming. The thought almost made her laugh, but she stifled it. At the remembrance of her brother, a thought hit her, she needed to find her way back to the village, even if it was by a sliver of smoke. She needed to get back home. She looked up at the Dryad.

"May I ask a favor," she murmured. Oka leaned down and rose a brow.

"what do you need sapling?" She asked. Pastel twiddled her thumbs as she thought.

"Can I climb your trunk and see above the canopy, I need to find my way back home," she explained. Oka nodded, a soft smiling dawning her lips.

"of course," she said, holding out her arms. Pastel grit her teeth as she took a running start onto the trunk, grabbing hold of the Dryad's arms and hoisting herself up with the creature's help. She climbed through the branches, peaking out of the foliage.

Her pale eyes met the sunlight and she squinted. In the distance there was a single line of smoke. How far away was she? And was that even the village?

"Oka, who's that in your branches?" Croaked the old voice of Helena. Pastel stumbled and tripped in a panic of familiarity. She let out a screech as she fell from the tree, but Oka caught her in her branches, setting her on the ground with no cuts or bruises.

"the sapling in your Garden, she wanted to find her way back home," explained Oka. Helena waved her hand dismissively and Pastel took in the woman in the full light. She was perhaps somehow more beautiful in the sun, her mane of grey hair sparkling like a lake struck by the sun's rays, and she could've sworn that her milky white eyes were practically glowing.

"come in my cottage for tea, we must speak of your destiny," she said curtly. Pastel furrowed her brow and looked at Oka who was studying her intently.

"Wait...is she the hero?" Asked the Dryad, her head darting up to look Helena in the eyes with a question clearly written on her face. Pastel was taken aback by the words. A hero? She was no hero, she was skinny and nothing but a girl! Her brother was more of a hero than she was and he was a coward!

Helena only shrugged, but her eyes twinkled with an other worldly wisdom.

Pastel followed Helena into the Cottage that had materialized from almost nothing much to the girl's surprise.

"have some tea," said Helena, pouring a cup of the steaming drink into a black mug. Pastel waited dutifully, glancing around. The cottage was homey, a fire roaring in the living room, which was decorated in furs, and flowers.

"Hero?" She asked. Helena glanced at her.

"You said you were chasing a blue butterfly,were you not? That is the mark of the hero, come, let me read," she said, gesturing for Pastel to join her at her dining table. Pastel gulped and sat beside the old woman, who immediately locked her into a dead stare. Pastel shifted uncomfortably as the woman clasped her hand in her old knotted ones. She felt her skin begin to burn an icy hot. It started slow, before gradually growing warmer and colder at the same time.

Pastel clenched her jaw and grit her teeth, squirming under the touch and begging silently for Helena to let her go. She wanted her brother! This was starting to become too much for her!

First a glowing blue butterfly, then a witch, then a druid, now a burning touch?

Pastel ripped her hand away when the heat grew to much to bear. She looked down at her arm, tears welling in her eyes. She gasped when she saw the red hot marks left on her pale skin.

"what!?" She whispered.

"do not be afraid child...I saw...A black night, and changing seasons, do these seem familiar," asked Helena. Pastel gulped and nodded. Helena's eyes sparkled.

"you have been chosen for a reason!" She barked. Pastel's eyes widened and she stared down at her tea in dismay. She felt a small well of pride build in her chest. Her whole life she was reminded how unimportant she was and suddenly this old woman had told her she was a hero...she didn't know why it had such an effect but it did!

"Well...what does that mean?" She asked. Helena shrugged.

"I don't know...but I'll leave you with a gift my child, the blue butterfly will be back for you...follow it and do not lose it again. It is taking you to your destiny. Here, take this," she murmured, extending her hand. Pastel furrowed her brow. Destiny? She looked at the hand with caution, worrying that same burn would inflict her again.

She took the hand anyway, she was too curious not to, and this felt important. This was probably the most important thing that would ever happen to her.

A calming warmth enveloped her, it was like being submerged under warm water. Pastel gasped for air, seeing her skin glowing, and realized it was like being submerged under water, she couldn't breath! Helena let go when Pastel began to choke. They stared at each other, before Helena smiled.

"I have given you the gift of magic...you can choose to fulfill your destiny, or you can go back to your village, haunted by your dreams and followed by butterflies. The choice is yours. Oka will accompany you on your journey to him my child, but I'm afraid this is where we part ways," she said. Pastel furrowed her brow and looked b k down at her hands. Those marks on her skin had begun to glow a faint aura of blue.