My chest is tight and my breath is heavy as I sprint across the wooden branches of the Willow. My legs ache and beg me to stop, but I know I cannot. I have to keep going-have to reach my village and warn the others before it’s too late. I’m so close, and yet so far. My village is just beyond the Willow Grove, in the Pine forest at the center of the island. My feet smack against the wood as I run, and I begin counting the steps to distract my mind from the exhaustion- “one, two, three…”. I get to 23 when the branches run out. I leap from the branch, spread my wings and allow the wind to carry me to the next tree. For a moment, I consider flying all the way home, but I can’t risk being discovered. Who knows what is lurking about these Willows. After all I have seen today, I can’t even dare to imagine. I must remain unseen. So I land as gracefully as my tired legs will let me on the nearest branch of the Willow, and begin running again. The leaves hang around my like a curtain, shielding me from prying eyes, but also hiding my path. Navigating through these trees is more difficult than I had imagined-nothing like the familiar pine needles of my home. Home. How much further now? I should be nearing the edge of the Grove, maybe 2 or three more trees. My legs ache at the though of running across that many branches. Then I must fly across the meadow that separates the Willow Grove from the Pine Forest, without being seen of Course. My palms sweat with anticipation of the journey. Nerves start to take over, but I push them down “no” I tell myself “I cannot panic now. There is too much at stake. My entire village is depending on me”

It’s been three days since I left home. Three days since my Father called upon me to join him in his journey. Three days since the Faries of the Pine Forest lined the branches to see us off-waiving flags of pine needles and grass, chanting their well-wishes as we set out towards the shore. We set out to search for a group of gatherers that never returned from an expedition to the sea. We had hoped to find them laying on the shore, enjoying the shadeless sun that the coast offers- but all we found was disaster. Now I must warn my people. I NEED to get to them before the humans do. I need to warn them about what’s out there, lurking on the shore.

I wipe away the tears that have fallen onto my cheek. I hadn’t realized they were there, but when I wipe them away, the green meadow up ahead becomes clear. I’m here. I’ve made it to the edge of the Grove. I pick up speed, my sore legs pushing as hard as they can off of the sturdy branches beneath me. I can feel the wind that I’ve created, blowing back my hair and rustling my skirts. As I come to the edg of the branch I spread out my wings and leap, catching the wind and gliding across the meadow. I glide for a moment, resting my tired legs and basking in the breeze-but I know I must hurry. I must fly. Out here in the open, I am not safe. I am so exhausted, it takes all of my effort to keep my wings going. Once again, I count each flap- “one, two, three…” until my legs finally reach the safe, sturdy branches of the Pine. Home. Once again, I run.