Willow

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. However, once upon a time, there was a girl who could hear the whispers of mice.

The cries of young sows.

The screams of black crows.

Once upon a time, the girl was poor, and rebellious, and wily, and smart. She grew up in the Valley with her mother and brother, where they'd tend to the fields all day. Then, when nightfall would sweep in, she would run to the docks and watch for the shadow of her father's ship. There had been a time where she spent weeks on that monstrous vessel with her father’s crew, and they were all dirty and aggressive but she liked most of them, and loved all of them. She'd had her sea legs more than any of them. Sometimes when she stood on dry land she swayed back and forth as if there was water beneath her feet.

Once, she thought she heard a fish sing.

The boat used to dock often, and visited each kingdom at least once a month. She liked Tumult the best out of all of the places they made port in— it was lush and modern, and there were cobblestone streets and trees you could climb to the very tippy-top. There was wildlife lurking in every corner of every forest and a castle made of white rock. The marketplace was loud and inviting and every time her father set up his booth to sell his fish, she delighted in the sound of bargaining and laughter and children’s feet running up and down the lane, knocking over fruit displays and jewelry stands. It was wonderful.

Her name was Willow, after her mother’s favorite tree.

She had no idea how much her father had loved her mother. Maybe it was real, or maybe he simply enjoyed the way she looked and tired of her after the years. Maybe that was why his boat had never come back. There was more quiet in their home in the Valley without Willow's father, and she was constantly filled with questions about where he was and what he was doing now. She was the kind of person who would never know and would always wonder.

She was full of wonder.

She never stopped hearing the whispers of animals, but after her father and his boat and her beloved crew had disappeared, the noise became grating. When she visited town, the cries of the fish trapped in those wooden barrels she used to carry from dock to market were loud; too loud. Townsfolk wondered why she wandered down the cobblestones with her hands over her ears, but it was the only way she could think to stay sane.

Once upon a time, the girl missed her father.

One languid afternoon, after tending to the fields all day and wondering aimlessly if she should head to the docks that evening; if it would even be worth it at all, Willow heard a whisper from a dragon.

It's time.

A dragon. A dragon. Willow hadn't quite yet discerned how she knew which animal was speaking to her at which time, but for some reason this one was clear: white, pearly-luminescent scales and bright gray-green eyes and razor-sharp teeth the size of a fence pole.

Willow never felt fear when she heard a voice, but for some reason, alone in her room with the afternoon sun streaming in through her open window, fear washed over her like a tidal wave. She was paralyzed with shock; the only thing moveable were her fingers, which grasped the quilt on her bed tightly as if it would give her some sort of feeling of stability.

It's time.

Where was this coming from? Did she need to tell someone? Alert the town? Were they in danger, or was she hallucinating? Willow's dreams had always been vivid and sharp, the edges like a map in her mind. Had she been asleep? Yes...yes, maybe it was all just a dream...but, if she was being honest, she knew better. Willow knew what was real and what wasn't.

When she heard the front door of the old house creak open, Willow's body relaxed: her fingers unclasped the quilt, her spine sunk into the mattress, and she let out a soft cry. Hearing the noise, her brother wandered in through her open door.

"Willow? Is everything all right?" His eyes widened when he saw her face, and sunk down beside her on the bed as she sat up, sweat pooling on her forehead.

"I-- I don't know. I don't feel very good."

"Did you hear something? You're white as a sheet."

Willow turned to him, tears in her eyes. Sometimes she loved the way her ability opened up new worlds to her, new voices, new perspectives of those who scurried at her feet, who ran in the forest, who swam in the ocean. The things she'd learned from horned pigs in the forest and river frogs that basked in the sun all day; well, she wouldn't trade that for anything.

Now, though, she felt the weight of her ability, and thought maybe she could hear too much. Every now and again in that little house in the field a few miles from town, that girl just wanted to be normal.

After a moment or two of concerned silence, she decided to tell her brother the truth.

"Dragons, Lyle," she sighed through a new curtain of tears, the fear grabbing hold of her once again, "There are dragons in the Valley again."

Once upon a time, the girl watched her brother's face contort into fear and recognition, and the sleepiness of their existence was flipped upside down in that little shack on the hill. Dragons meant minotaurs and fairies and maybe even centaurs, and both Willow and Lyle knew that their town wasn't ready for that. No one was ready for that.

Dark, dark times were ahead...and Willow heard it all.