Catch a Falling Star

Leaves rustled and shuddered as fingers tore through the bushes, twigs snapping as they bent too far. ‘It has to be here somewhere,’ he thought to himself impatiently as he moved to the next line of brush. After all, Saosin Silverstorm had been watching last night’s star shower when he’d seen it: the sharp flash of light that streaked across the sky, much closer than the rest. The entire forest had illuminated as it fell beyond the canopy, and Saosin hadn’t bothered to wait until the dawn.

Legend had it that a fallen star could lead him to his destiny.

Sighing, he stood tall, fingers brushing tresses of golden hair behind a long and slender ear. Saosin turned, heading back to the steep slope of rocks that were illuminated by the pale light of the twin moons hung high above him; keen eyes sought his footing cautiously. He’d nearly managed to fall to his death on the way up, and tired eyes did little to give him advantage.

A rock shifted as he placed his weight on it, and Saosin yelped as he began to slide down the hillside. He tumbled against the stones, far passed the ledge he’d come from, and deep into the ravine. When the rockslide finally halted, Saosin groaned and shifted sorely.

‘At least I’m alive,’ he mused as he forced his eyes open, wincing as he gathered himself. A flicker of silver caught on his vision, and Sasoin whirled; rather than the moonlight he’d been expecting from the mouth of the ravine, something glimmered a few yards away from him. Stumbling, he pulled himself to his feet, scrambling toward the light. Greedily, his hands dove between two rocks and plucked the item from the crevice.

It glimmered against his skinned palm; the surface was smooth, like translucent pearl illuminated with a soft silver glow. It was unlike anything he’d seen – anything he might have imagined! The light pulsated slowly…slowly…the pace began to quicken, and vaguely he recognized the gently vibration against his palm. Like a heartbeat, he mused.

…No. It was a heartbeat…his heartbeat. The light pulsated in time with his own quickened breaths and racing heart. It was mesmerizing, and breathtaking, and he couldn’t take his eyes away. It began to race, wilder and wilder, until he felt his heart might burst from his chest. How was it controlling him?

Suddenly, white flashed around him, drowning the muted hues of the stony ravine and finally he tore his eyes from and winced away. The stone burned against his fingertips and wind rushed around him, howling and swirling so that locks of blond whipped across his vision.

When it finally dissipated, Saosin staggered as he blindly sought his footing, reached a hand for the wall of the ravine to steady himself. But instead, his hand met air, and he stumbled sideways. He anticipated the jagged surfaces of stones as he fell, but what met him was a patch of soft moss, moist and earthy and much more pleasant than a face full of rocks. Confused, Saosin blinked his vision clear, eyes of jade drinking in his new surroundings.

Rather than the dark, stony ravine, he rested in a narrow trail that wound through thin lines of pine and cedar trees. The pathway was littered with patches of moss and rusted evergreen, and the night was coated in a thick mist that seemed to cling to his skin. Somewhere above the trees, pale moonlight peered through the canopy, the fog catching it and illuminating the woods in hazy gray. Nearby, an owl squawked in displeasure, and wings fluttered against the otherwise silent wood.

Keen ears pricked as a twig shifted nearby, dead wood cracking and splintering as weight was placed upon it. Wildly he turned, and a cloaked figure approached him. A soft woman’s voice reached his ears, and Saosin’s face contorted as he made to decipher the strange tongue. Again, she spoke, and he stared deftly as she neared him. Though his body screamed for him to run, he remained rooted, eyes fixed on the woman. When finally, she reached him, delicate fingers lowered the hood from her head. Tawny hair fell in rivers of curls around her face and sharp eyes of warm chestnut danced over his features.

“Who are you?” Saosin asked, and the girl frowned, replying in her own language. A tender freckled hand reached for his own, the one that still clutched the glimmering star, and quickly, he recoiled. She spoke again, and though he didn’t understand her words, they were as gentle as the northern breeze over the Honeygrass Meadows near his home. Fingertips brushed his, and he allowed her to lift it near his face. A gentle breath guided flecks of starlight into his vision, and his eyes fluttered as the dust reached them.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You understand now,” she replied quietly, and Saosin froze; she was right – he did understand, though it had been foreign to him only moments before. “My name is Jane. Jane Lilly.”

“Saosin Silverstorm.”

“Unusual…where did you come from?” Jane asked him.

“I’m from Moonriver, of Setareon.” Saosin answered,

“I see…” Her voice trailed and eyes fixated on his long, pointed ears and he frowned. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to stare,” she added quickly, though her gaze seemed to flicker back to him unwillingly. “You were brought here by a star?” Saosin pricked.

“Y-yes, I was – h-how did you – ?”

“I was, too.” The brunette gave a soft sigh and smiled half-heartedly. “You had better come with me before any of the hunters come this way.”

“Hunters?” he repeated, and she nodded; in the distance, the faint chorus of yawling echoed among the trees and fog, and bright eyes wildly sought the source.

“They’re getting closer,” Jane realized, “Come along.” The brunette led him deeper into the forest, around the truck of an ancient oak and off the carriage path. “You’ve unfortunately come during a difficult time,” she explained, ducking below a low-lying branch. Saosin stooped below it, stumbling on lanky limbs as his toes stubbed a nearby rock. Despite his falter, long legs kept him close behind the petite woman. “Anyone who looks at someone sideways around here is deemed a witch – and you, unfortunately, look quite the part compared to most.”

“I’m an elf, not a witch,” Sasoin replied sternly. “Most magic has been forbidden in Setareon since the time of the Long War.”

“And I’m from an era of indoor plumbing, electricity, and technology, but they still call it witchcraft,” she retorted waspishly, and he sensed her frustration wasn’t just because she’d come across a foreigner on her trek. “This is the past of my world, nearly eight or nine hundred years ago. Heathens accuse the innocent of being witches – want to know how they prove it?” She turned, bright eyes watching him, and he paused. “They set you on fire, and if you survive, you’re a witch.”

“That’s madness!” Saosin exclaimed, and she chuckled darkly, rounding a large evergreen and stepping to the crest of a large embankment. “Is that why you’re on the run?”

“Yes,” she answered, but she hesitated. “Look there,” she gestured, and keen eyes observed the embankment. A thin line, glinting like a spider’s web beneath the thin trails of moonlight dove between trees. At the base, a pile of moss and twigs and leaves had been piled up.

“What is it?” he asked, brows furrowed as he took a step closer. Delicate fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist as she stopped him.

“A hunter’s trap,” she replied.

“For animals?”

“Witches,” she confirmed. The howls and shuffling of the creatures had come closer, so that the sounds came from all around them. She swore under her breath and heels slid in the leaves as she moved down the embankment towards the trap.

“You just said it was a trap!” Saosin uttered, following quickly on her heels, and she grunted as she lifted the skirt of her dress above her heels.

“I did,” Jane confirmed, throwing a smirk over her shoulders. “It’s about to be a trap for those damned hunters.” She stood behind the tree, silently motioning for him to follow. Saosin obliged, stuffing the star into his pocket for safe keeping. Heartbeats fluttered in time with the race of paws and shuffle of legs through the forest floor, and he knew the creatures were nearly upon them.

They came over the top of the embankment as streaks of fawn and black, long legs pounding into the thick coating of leaves that draped the hillside. One let out a screeching bellow as its nose rose from the debris, no doubt sounding that it had their scent. Without warning, Jane leapt from behind the tree, and the tall, muscular creatures didn’t hesitate as they bounded for her. One snapped at her arm but fell short as the ground lurched and ropes snapped, ensnaring the trio. They whimpered and snarled and wriggled in the netting, and Jane chortled proudly.

“Now that is what I call ‘witchcraft,’” she jested, and the elf chuckled softly.

“What are they?” he asked, moving closer to get a better look. Again, she grabbed his wrist, leading him away and further down the embankment.

“Hunting dogs,” she answered. “Great Danes to be exact. You don’t have those in Moonriver?” He shook his head, taking a last glance back to the yowling beasts before letting his gaze drift back to their trek. Jane led him to its base, deeply shrouded beneath the thick canopy of trees and fog, to the edge of a shallow creek. Nearly falling on the surplus of oak leaves and pine needles, he trailed behind her. “Fortunately, I’ve made one friend since I arrived a year ago, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to meet you.”

Jane lifted the edge of her dress and toes dipped into the creek at the bottom of the embankment. She gave a soft shudder as the appendage submerged, followed by the other; he hesitated, but Saosin followed. Water seeped into the leather shoes and toes scrunched at the chill that seemed to slither over his limbs. Steps sloshed through the ankle-deep water and feet ached against the stony creek bed. Jane’s heels slipped against a slick spot, and she swore under her breath.

“Sorry, we do this to throw the dogs of the trail,” she explained, and he hummed with understanding. The creek took a sharp turn, and she climbed upon a sand bar around the bend. Through the saplings and tree trunks, a small wooden cottage came into view; a plume of smoke rose from the chimney and dissipated into the misty night. The creek picked up in depth and pace so that a waterwheel churned noisily at its side. Upon the windowsill nearest the door, a raven perched so still, he wondered if it was real or not. As they approached, it let out a gleeful squawk, and the door burst open. Light from the cottage illuminated the lean and curvy figure, and even in the moonlight he could make out the long locks of fiery orange that flowed in gentle waves to her chest.

“Jane! I had begun to worry!” she called, approaching them from the recently swept stone path. “Oh! And who have you brought with you?”

“This is S-Sayson – did I say that right?” Jane responded as they met along the path.

“Saosin,” he corrected softly, Saosin offering a low bow, as was the custom in his land.

“Right, sorry,” Jane muttered. “Sorry, Saosin. And this is Cora Devonshire.”

“Salvete laetitiae,” Saosin said, as he rose from his bow; both women exchanged glances and he felt his cheeks flush with heat. “I-I apologize – i-it is a customary greeting in Setareon.” Brows furrowed as Cora eyed Jane questioningly and Jane sighed.

“He was brought here by a star, like us,” she said. “But, unlike mine, his didn’t shatter.” Excitement spilled over the ginger’s expression, and she reached her hand out expectantly; Saosin didn’t oblige.

“It’s okay – she is a witch.”

“Mage,” Cora corrected sharply. “I don’t boil potions in a giant black cauldron and suck the souls from little children.” Jane held up her hands in surrender and Cora shook her head. “I take it the hunters are on your trail?” she added, the distant struggle of the dogs still audible amongst the trickle of the water and rustle of leaves in the nighttime breeze.

“Not far behind us,” Jane answered. “They’ll have those dogs down in a few, and I’m sure they’ll be back on by dawn.”

“Come, inside now,” the redhead sighed; as she walked past, she gave the raven a soft rub on the chest, and it cooed happily, bristling its tail feathers. Inside, the cottage was larger than it appeared; carved furniture with plush red cushions adorned the room nearest them, along with a feather-stuffed pad near the stove. A cauldron rested over a smoldering fire, and the savory scent of meat broth swept over them. “It’s stew,” Cora insisted as Jane chuckled, and Saosin couldn’t help but to laugh. Canvas cloth painted with small crimson roses covered the nearby window, and a basin rested on the counter piled with stone dishes.

“Now, the star,” Cora demanded, again holding out her hand eagerly, but Saosin hesitated. Sudden ruckus blossomed outside, the raging barks and snarls of the Danes and shuffling footsteps. A gruff voice spoke from the other side, but the words were lost among the scuffling.

“I thought you said, ‘by dawn?!” Cora hissed to the brunette, who shrugged with exasperation.

“We went through the creek – I didn’t think they’d catch our scent that quickly!” Jane answered quietly, and Cora quickly shuttered the lock. Wordlessly, she gestured, and Saosin followed the pair deeper into the cottage.

“Quickly, the star,” the mage insisted again, and the elf’s grip tightened around the stone in his pocket.

“Forgive me,” he said, voice quivering as he willed the star to take him home. “But…if the star brought me here…it seems that it may be my only way back home.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she uttered waspishly, “It isn’t just your way back. But its magic will fade soon – is fading now, and it will shatter like ours did,” she explained, and Jane plopped on the nearby bed noisily. “I believe my magic can replicate its effects, but I haven’t been able to try it. Mine shattered instantly when it brought me here, Jane’s lasted longer, but turned to dust before we met.”

“Basically, if we don’t try this now, we’re all stuck here until the next star shows up,” Jane said, laying back so that she stared up to the wooden-planked ceiling of the bedroom.

“And that could be years,” Cora added. “It was for me.” There was a jostle at the door, followed by a heavy knock that rattled the wood against its hinges.

“Or until the hunters get in,” Jane whispered, lunging to her feet. “Saosin!” The door rattled with a knock again. Quickly, his hand withdrew, thrusting the glimmering crystal to the mage. Slender fingers encased it so that the light blossomed between her fingers. It grew and drowned the flickering campfire, whisking away the embers and washing over them in an icy chill. Ginger hair blew around her, and when eyes opened, they gleamed like stars themselves. “Quick, grab my hand,” Cora demanded. Saosin glanced at the brunette, and she nodded eagerly.

With bated breath, he placed his hand atop the others’ so that silver light engulfed the slender digits. Though the wind around them was chilled, the stone radiated heat into his palm. It grew, brighter and brighter in his vision until it drowned out the homey cabin and the smell of simmering stew and the ragged jostling of the locked door. Everything burned silvery white, forcing his eyes closed, and he felt the wind take him away. A ringing filled his ears and mind, and a sharp pain woke him.

Eyes opened, and he blinked them several times to adjust from the light; but it wasn’t the woodland cabin, and Cora and Jane had faded. Or had they been there at all, he wondered as he sat upright. Stones surrounded him, bathed in the pale moonlight of the twin moons high above the mouth of the ravine. Shakily he stood, though the pain in his side caused him to wince and falter. Saosin turned; the crevice where he’d found the star was still behind him, though just as dark as the rest of the ravine. Blinking, he gazed up to the brightest of the moons and frowned.

Had Cora’s magic sent him home, or had been merely a dream?