Chapter Two #2
We repeated this process for months, me trailing after her like a lost pup during the day and then making sure she got home safely in the evenings.
As the days grew colder and her determination grew fiercer, I grew to feel as if I knew her.
I could read the angle of her smile and the tilt of her head.
Her excitement was evident in the way she made that little hand gesture, and her fatigue showed in the way she put both hands on her hips and stretched her back.
Eventually, from overheard snippets of her conversation, I learned that she was looking for a specific plant with a name I had never heard. I watched her talk to anyone she could find with a ready smile and hope shining in her eyes.
But with each passing day, her light dimmed, and I sensed her time here was drawing to a close.
She pushed herself harder and longer, exhaustion etching lines into her face as she raced against a sun that set a little earlier each day.
The mountain waits for no one. The loss of hope seemed to tug at her curls, as if even they mourned.
I tried to convince myself this had just been a diversion—a novelty, a fleeting encounter with a bright, little human who stirred long-forgotten feelings in my heart and body. But the lie was bitter in my mouth.
And tonight, that bitterness deepens when I sense she’s leaving tomorrow.
Though she goes through her usual night-time routine, each task is a little slower, a little more deliberate—as if she’s committing every moment to memory, savoring the last of it.
As if she doesn’t want to leave not just her search, but this place—my home.
And in that moment, I can’t help but wish it was me she didn’t want to leave.
Me, that she had been searching for all along.
As she sits by the fire and carefully schools her face, she cannot hide the heartbreak that bleeds so freely from her chest it sneaks across the river like fog to wind its fingers into me, scrabbling at my heart like the icy northern winds.
I want to go to her, wrap her up in my great strong arms, shield her from the world with my body.
I want to give her comfort and reassurance that whatever she is so sad about doesn’t matter.
Whisper into her tiny, round hairless ear that everything will be okay if only the two of us face it together.
We can hide away for all time in my caves and lose ourselves in each other.
But I cannot run to her, cannot take on the darkness with her. Because she is a human, and I—I am not.
The truth settles in my chest, a cold, aching weight with the destructive force of an avalanche.
She belongs to the world of the rising sun, to the warmth of firelight, to the land of others like her.
And I—I am made of shadow and stone, of cold wind and endless silence.
There is no place for me in her life beyond this fleeting moment, this strange crossing of fates.
I ache to go after her. To tell her she doesn’t have to leave.
That she could stay here, with me, in this wild place where infinite stars prick across the velvet tapestry of night and the North winds sing through the trees.
Where there is austere beauty in rock and snow, and great discovery within the silence.
Where we can just be two souls, lost to the world but found in each other.
But I know better. The pull of her world with its speed and technology is too strong, her journey not one I can share.
No matter how much my soul protests, how much this thread between us tugs my soul to hers, I cannot be what she needs.
I am a Migoi, a monster, a legend. I am tied to this place and this sacred duty, my dharma, to protect and balance.
And so, I let her go.
I close my eyes and release my worry for her out into the universe, as if unburdening it will keep her safe.
The mountains around me stand steadfast and unchanging, their peaks holding back the coming light of dawn as if cradling this moment in the sky’s velvet embrace.
I focus on them, on their ancient wisdom, and I ask them to watch over her.
To pass their quiet comfort into her soul.
I imagine her footsteps on the trail ahead, her heart heavy but determined.
I hope she feels the mountains’ strength beneath her feet, grounding her.
Hears their whispers in the wind, reminding her she is not alone.
I hope she carries the wildness of this place with her always, even as she returns to a world that will stamp it out and endeavor to erase the magic touch of these peaks.
The ache does not leave me, but I accept it. It is the price of knowing her, even for so brief a time. Yes, she is human, and I am not—but in some strange, impossible way, we are still bound. And perhaps that is enough. It has to be, because it is all I have.
I watch the horizon where she will disappear, willing the thread between us to hold fast. Even as she goes, I vow that I will remember her, always, and choke down the exquisite pain that comes with her loss with a deep thanks and grateful heart.
The heartache was worth having her be mine, even if only for a little while. Even if she will never know.
In my eagerness to protect her, even from herself—to be just the smallest bit closer to her and shoulder her burden—I had unconsciously stepped right up to the edge of the trees. When her eyes flick up from the fire to meet mine, I freeze, shocked that she has seen me from this great distance.
Shooting a glance at the sky, I realize the full moon and starry expanse must have reflected back at her in my luminous eyes, glinting with a bright silver sure to draw her attention.
The weight of her stare sinks into my soul, stripping it bare, bringing my pounding heart painfully to the surface, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
My adaptations to the harsh environment I call home can’t save me now. I have no defenses against her.
The shock and awe that accompany the rare instance I am seen are there, but above it rises a stronger current—so powerful it’s almost tangible, like the warming bite of rakshi, the moonshine of the mountains.
Heat, desire, and raw primal need floods my soul and pulses through my veins when our eyes meet.
I see it reflected back at me in her gaze—she feels it, too.
Stunned, I stumble back, retreating into the welcoming, dark safety of the forest, watching as she runs off to her room, alone.
I stand sentinel as the moon tracks across the sky and stars blink out of existence.
As the sun rises, bathing the land in its golden glow—reminiscent of her curls that have captured my heart—I remain, desperate for one last look at the human who calls to me.
In the early hours, my nightlong vigil is rewarded when she emerges with several bags to say her goodbyes. The unshed tears only make her eyes more luminescent, my beautiful Winter Star. They call her Dahlia, but she has been named for the wrong flower. She is my flower.
This is it. She looks over her shoulder, directly across the river to where I stand hidden in the shadows. My heart leaps with the hope that she will come to me, drawn by this connection. But she simply turns back around and climbs into the vehicle.
This beautiful creature, who didn’t just capture my attention but breathed life back into my frozen heart, is gone. With a sigh so deep, it rattles the leaves around me, I turn and head back to my home. Alone again.