The Sound That Weeping Willows Make

Kuerro was growing tired of this walk. The same walk he had taken everyday through this forest for the past who knows how many years. The walk to the bushes that never seemed to run out berries, where Kuerro would gorge himself until he was full. Then, the walk to the river where Kuerro would drink his fill. Finally, the walk back to his cave, where he would sleep and start the process all over again the next day. The Weeping Forest, which Kuerro had named it due to its overabundance of weeping willows, had been Kuerro’s home for decades. Home was too kind of a word. Purgatory was the better word, but alas leaving was not an option.

Kuerro was old, even by the standards of dragons, not that there was any left in the world besides Kuerro. Zaszy, his mate, and Arryk, his brother, had died long ago, alongside countless other friends and family, leaving him alone in the world. Alone in the world, with wings so tattered they lost their ability to soar through the sky years ago. Half of his scales, once a mighty bright red, now faded from the years, were gone at this point, revealing the pale, pink skin beneath. He’d managed to hold onto most of his toes throughout the years, only losing two from his front right foot in the last dragon war. He avoided looking at his reflection when drinking from the river, preferring to avoid the frail state his body had entered.

He approached the shallow gorge that contained his cave, slowly making his way down the rocky slope. Kuerro froze. Sitting a few yards adjacent to the mouth of his cave, was a small creature with pale skin and bright red hair. It was the same type of creature, with no scales or wings, that had settled on the edge of the Weeping Forest several years ago, who avoided the forest itself like a plague. Kuerro observed the creature for a few moments, determining that it had to be a child. Kuerro had seen a few of these creatures when he would occasionally walk along the edge of the forest and they were much larger than this one, yet clearly of the same species. The child had been crying, but once it had noticed Kuerro’s presence in the gorge, it ceased its cries. Kuerro assumed the child was frightened and would soon begin screaming in terror.

Strangely, that did not happen, and what Kuerro could only assume was a smile spread across the child’s face. The child clapped his hands together several times, before extending them outwards towards Kuerro, its face still lit up with a smile. Kuerro ignored the child, walking past it and climbing into his cave. Best not to get involved. Besides, Kuerro needed to catch up on getting some sleep. Kuerro could hear the child trying to climb into the cave after him, but he knew the slope leading up to the mouth was too steep for the child to climb. Eventually, the noises of the child’s scramble ceased, and it was replaced with the noise of its former cries. Kuerro closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the cries of the child as he drifted off to sleep.

Kuerro is snapped awake as an unnatural sound weaves its way through the forest, piercing his ears, forcing him awake. He looks around in terror at first but relaxes when he remembers. It is just the whistling of the willows, a nightly occurrence in the Weeping Forest. The sound comes from unknown origins, as Kuerro had spent many a nights combing the forest for its creator, eventually labeling it a wonder of nature. A frightening wonder of nature at that, one that never ceased to not frighten Kuerro. The noise reminded him of the throngs of war which he knew all too well, yet wanted nothing more than to forget.

Kuerro shut his eyes, trying to block out the noise he knew he would never be able to block out, when he heard a sound which forced itself to be heard even over the whistling of the willows. It had to be the child. Kuerro crept to the edge of his cave to take a look and saw the child curled up next to a rock, its face streaked with tears as it screamed in a language that Kuerro could not understand. The child is clearly cold, shaking as it clings to the rock for warmth. Kuerro moved away from the mouth of the cave, hoping to avoid being seen by the child, that way he could just go back to sleep. Sleep, however, did not come and eventually Kuerro gave in.

The frail dragon climbed down into the gorge from the cave and approached the child, who had stopped crying, similar to the last time he caught sight of the dragon. This time he did not smile, clearly frightened at the situation he found himself in. Kuerro gently wrapped his tail around the child’s waist, slowly lifting him off the ground and into the air. The pair made their way into the cave, where Kuerro sat the child on the far side of the cave from where Kuerro slept, but far enough from the mouth of the cave to where he would not be affected by the elements. The child wiped the tears from his face as Kuerro walked over to his side of the cave and laid down. Kuerro closed his eyes once more in an attempt to get some sleep, when he felt something touch his side. Kuerro flinched, opening his eyes, but relaxed when he saw it was just the child, curling up next to him and drifting off to sleep. Kuerro was annoyed but ignored the child’s presence as he drifted off into his own sleep, not noticing that the whistling of the willows had stopped the moment he brought the child into the cave.

The next morning came and Kuerro was surprised to find that for the first time in years he did not wake up tired. The child was still fast asleep and Kuerro did not move, not wanting to wake the child from his slumber. Hours pass and the child eventually wakes. It stretches its arms as it lets out a yawn, before looking deeply into Kuerro’s eyes, his face lighting up with a smile. Kuerro almost smiles back, but instead ignores the child and stands up, making his way out of the cave so he could start his daily routine. As he slowly descends into the gorge, Kuerro feels a weight clinging to his tail, snapping his head around to see the child clinging to his tail, laughing and smiling with joy. Best not leave the child alone. Perhaps Kuerro could lead him to the settlement at the edge of the forest, which surely had to be his home.

The child clung to Kuerro’s tail for a mile or so of the journey, before letting go, choosing to walk on his own, following Kuerro’s path that he’d worn down through the years. After an hour or so, the pair arrived at the bushes, still bustling with berries as they had yesterday. Kuerro began to gorge himself, ignoring the child as he ate, when he heard the child’s stomach growl. Kuerro glanced at the child, then went back to the bush he was eating from, where he ripped off a sprig of berries and handed it to the child. The child gratefully accepted the bundle and began devouring the fruit. Its face was stained blue and red from the berries by the time it was done eating. Kuerro contemplated taking the child to the settlement, as it was closer by than the river, but decided against it. Kuerro was thirsty and quenching that thirst would have to come first.

The pair arrived at the river and Kuerro drank his fill, watching the child as it tentatively crept towards the edge of the river. Kuerro braced his tail to grab the child in case it were to fall in. It had gotten this far; it would be a shame to just let it die now. The child did not fall and instead cupped its hands in the water and lifted it towards its mouth, drinking the water quickly. It repeated the process several times, before walking over and sitting down next to Kuerro, leaning his back against the dragon. After a few minutes, Kuerro stood up, disturbing the child’s relaxation. It was time for the child to go home. As Kuerro began leading the child back onto the trail, the child paused and motioned for Kuerro to pay attention. Kuerro groaned, but stopped, deciding to humor the child. The child pointed to the hair on top of its head, which was red as flames while the sun shone on it, and then pointed to Kuerro’s remaining scales. It did this several times before Kuerro got the message. They were the same, in an odd way, is what the child meant. Kuerro smiled for the first time in years and they continued on into the woods.

It had been nearly a week since Kuerro had discovered the child, who he now referred to as Sprig. He had planned on taking Sprig home that first day, after the river, but Kuerro was tired and decided it was a better idea just to get some sleep. He would take care of it in the morning, but that did not happen. He truly had planned on it, but Sprig had taken the lead, leading them to the berries and then the river. Kuerro chose to forget about taking Sprig home for the time being, as it was nice to have some companionship. The Weeping Forest was a lonely place and Kuerro had smiled more in the last week than he had in years. Sprig could stay awhile, thought Kuerro. Kuerro certainly did not mind, and Sprig did not seem to mind either. The two explored the forest together, while the dragon made sure to keep Sprig’s home out of sight, secretly hoping the child could stay forever. Afterall, Kuerro was sure the settlement would not come looking for the child, as he knew they feared the secrets of the Weeping Forest. Kuerro hardly even noticed that the whistling of the willows had stopped.

Kuerro woke up several days later, hacking and coughing up blood. Sprig, who had been curled up next to Kuerro, was now awake and sitting up, staring at Kuerro with a frightened, but also concerned look. After a few moments, the fit of coughing stopped, and Kuerro smiled at the child. Sprig relaxed at that and curled back up into Kuerro’s side, quickly falling back into sleep. Kuerro knew he was old, but he shrugged the fit out of his mind and drifted back to sleep. The coughing fits returned every day after that. In the morning, during the night, during the day, anywhere and anytime and they were progressively getting worse. Something was wrong. Sprig appeared concerned for the dragon, never leaving his side during the fits, but Kuerro knew he had a tough decision to make. He did not have much time left and it would be wrong to leave Sprig by their lonesome. Kuerro had experienced that firsthand and it was not a good life. It was time for Sprig to go home.

The pair set off one morning, Kuerro seemingly leading them to the bushes as they had done day after day for weeks. They veered off their usual trail, though, and a look of confusion and excitement lit up Sprig’s face. To Sprig, it seemed as if they were exploring a new place. Tears were already beginning to form in Kuerro’s eyes. They soon approached the edge of the forest, where the settlement Kuerro had determined was Sprig’s home came into sight. Sprig’s face lit up with recognition and the child excitedly rushed towards the settlement. Sprig made it a few yards before realizing that Kuerro was not following. The child walked back to Kuerro, whose eyes were filled with tears, placing their hand on the side of his face. Kuerro gave the child a reassuring smile and nudged Sprig towards the direction of the settlement. Sprig was now crying as well. The child hugged Kuerro as tightly as possible, before setting off towards the settlement. Kuerro watched from the tree line, doing his best to stay out of sight as the settlement took notice of Sprig’s arrival. They swarmed the child, screaming and laughing with joy. One of Sprig’s kind ran towards the child, picking them up and embracing them so tightly Kuerro almost growled before relaxing. This had to be one of Sprig’s parents. Their hair had the same red sheen as Sprig’s, that shone like fire when the sun shone upon it. Kuerro smiled and began the trek back to his cave, leaving a trail of tears in his wake.

Kuerro awoke later that night, startled by the sound of the willows whistling, only this time it was different. It was a beautiful sound, one that Kuerro had not heard in years. It was the sound of dragons singing. Kuerro stood and approached the exit to the cave, peering down into the gorge below. And there they were, sitting not far from where Kuerro had found Sprig all those weeks ago. Zaszy and Arryk. They were looking at the entrance to the cave, as if they were expecting Kuerro, who was in utter disbelief.

They shone with the light of youth, a light that they, as well as Kuerro, had long since passed by in their lifetime. This could not be life though, as Kuerro could almost see right through the two of them if he looked hard enough. Apparitions. Kuerro moved to take a step toward his old companions, when he noticed his front right foot was now filled with all five toes. Startled, Kuerro quickly turned around, looking back into the cave, already knowing what he was about to see. There he was, curled up in his usual sleeping spot, frail, tattered body in all. He appeared to be in a deep slumber, but Kuerro knew the truth. He looked back at Zaszy, who gave him a reassuring smile, before jumping down into the gorge, his limbs renewed with the vigor of youth.

The three of them circled around each other and danced with joy at this reunion after so many years, Kuerro the most energetic of them all. After a few minutes of this, Zaszy and Arryk spread their wings and took to the sky. Kuerro watched them go with sadness, but they paused and looked back, waiting for him to join them. Kuerro tentatively spread his wings, revealing their restored form that he had lost long ago, shining in the moonlight with all their bright red glory. The mighty dragon flapped his wings once and jumped, shooting himself into the sky at a speed that had evaded him for decades. As they flew, they began to sing as they had before and Kuerro joined them, knowing the true nature behind the whistling of the willows now. They continued their flight, eventually passing over Sprig’s settlement. Kuerro scanned the length of the settlement, hoping to catch one last glimpse of his friend, but alas the child was nowhere to be seen, most likely fast asleep indoors. Kuerro roared one last goodbye to his friend, before continuing to follow his companions. Eventually, the three of them arrived at the edge of the sea, where in the distance Kuerro caught sight of a massive beam of light shooting from the sea up into the stars. The beam of light was surrounded by hundreds, no, thousands of flying creatures. Dragons. Old friends and enemies alike, thought Kuerro. He paused for a moment, glancing back towards the way they had come from, before following Zaszy and Arryk towards the direction of the light beam. Kuerro, the last of the dragons, had passed on.