01-26-2019, 09:24 PM
His heart still racing from the strange nightmare, Nocturne scrambled to his feet and looked around, pale eyes wide with lingering terror, breath coming fast as he slowly started to recover. No shaking earth, no lava devouring his flesh, no fire burning away the flowers he needed to bring back to the Mountain. But he still had a mission to complete. And so, he raced about as quickly as he could, searching for a flower in at least one of the colors. He started with the red one that had knocked him out already, hoping at least he’d already taken its full effects and he’d be able to gather up the remaining flowers in peace. But by the time he could reach it, it had withered to nothing before his eyes.
Red, all gone, and the flowers around him in each of the colors dissolved and turned to dust as well. Until all that was left were flowers of colors she didn’t need. He raced around, frantic, searching and dismising blue and purple and green. Finally, FINALLY, he found a white flower, purer and paler than his moonlight baby coat or the brighter white that splashed across his feet.
When he had gathered up the single solitary flower, he raced back for the Mountain as quickly as his young legs could carry him. Perhaps if he was lucky he could get back quickly enough that Ember wouldn’t even miss him. If he ran fast enough, maybe the Fairies could end this tonight, piece together a cure and chase the plague from the face of their world. Quickly, quickly, the smallest fairy’s voice in his head urged, and he raced on, back across the hills of Loess and the heavily wooded forest, across the river and up the Mountain once again. His heart thundered in his chest, his breath came fast as he gasped for air, and he dropped to his knees and then fell to his side as if in slow motion, depositing the flower at the fairy’s feet. It was all he could do to hope it was fast enough, hope he’d been swift enough, that he’d achieved the speed they needed.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find them all,” he whispered, “but I hope this white flower helps.”
Red, all gone, and the flowers around him in each of the colors dissolved and turned to dust as well. Until all that was left were flowers of colors she didn’t need. He raced around, frantic, searching and dismising blue and purple and green. Finally, FINALLY, he found a white flower, purer and paler than his moonlight baby coat or the brighter white that splashed across his feet.
When he had gathered up the single solitary flower, he raced back for the Mountain as quickly as his young legs could carry him. Perhaps if he was lucky he could get back quickly enough that Ember wouldn’t even miss him. If he ran fast enough, maybe the Fairies could end this tonight, piece together a cure and chase the plague from the face of their world. Quickly, quickly, the smallest fairy’s voice in his head urged, and he raced on, back across the hills of Loess and the heavily wooded forest, across the river and up the Mountain once again. His heart thundered in his chest, his breath came fast as he gasped for air, and he dropped to his knees and then fell to his side as if in slow motion, depositing the flower at the fairy’s feet. It was all he could do to hope it was fast enough, hope he’d been swift enough, that he’d achieved the speed they needed.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find them all,” he whispered, “but I hope this white flower helps.”