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1289 Words
The wilderness, which my parents called a garden, was the first place I ventured when we arrived. We planned to have benches and a picnic table and a swing that would hang down from a birch tree. There was a pond with no fish or frogs- just nettles and thistles and grass and a stepping stone walkway with missing stone slabs. I spent my first day, pulling and blowing on half-dead dandelions in the garden. I was still upset with our decision to move here. I remembered at midday, my Mom came and stood over me. She would have sat down if it wasn't for the baby.
"Honey, are you hungry?"
"No." I shook my head and didn't look up from my dandelion.
I heard her sigh and went back inside then came back with a turkey sandwich and a can of soda pop.
"Sorry, you're in such a rotten mood."
"It's all so rotten here," I murmured back. She touched my head.
"You understand, though. Don't you, darling? You understand?"
I gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Yes."
She patted my head and left without saying anything else. Perhaps, she didn't know what to say. A moment later, my Dad came in to sit beside me.
"I promise I will make it nice and neat again when everything's sorted," he said.
Then the bell rang. I heard the Doctor coming in with my Mom, so Dad had to get up and meet him. The Doctor was a tall thin man. He always wore gray suits, and his crooked nose supported a pair of thick glasses that made his pale blue eyes bigger than they were. I didn't want to be anywhere near the Doctor, not that I didn't like him. It was just that he never smiled and acted like I wasn't there, which was fine by me in hindsight.
I went to sit on the pile of logs against the house wall and ate my sandwich. I thought of the warm sunny days from where we'd lived and my old school friends. I finished the sandwich and drank the soda, waited until the Doctor was gone, then went exploring the garden all by myself.
Two weeks had passed since then. I went on a trip with the children of my Dad's colleagues to Tunaycha Lake. They were all around my age. I guessed that was why they had to tag along with their parents as I did.
It was the first time I met Mr. Shirokani, an ornithologist. He explained to us that an ornithologist is a person who studies every aspect of birds, even their songs.
The next day, I asked my Dad to go on another bird-watching trip. He was surprised that I took the hobby too readily but figured that I needed to find something to cling onto. Mr. Shirokani organized a tour for bird-watchers every weekend. It was both his job and his passion. I took a night train trip down south with some of the familiar kids I went with the first time. They probably just wanted an escape from the gray concrete of the city.
When we set out to the lake, Mr. Shirokani looked at me with concern.
"You good, Kira?"
"Fine."
"And the baby?"
"Fine, too."
"Your father called asking me to keep an eye on you."
"Thanks, but I'm fine."
He stared at me for another moment. Then he took a gumdrop out of his pocket and held it out to me. A gumdrop. It was what he gave to the young children on the tour when they cried or were sad. I was seventeen years old.
All day I wondered about telling somebody what I'd heard in the cave or thought I had heard. At the same time, I tried to think of a way to slip out of the group. Lunch break would be the best time.
We camped around the turquoise lake. Mr. Shirokani beckoned to us with a big grin.
"Everyone, come and see what I found," he said. "But please, be very quiet."
We went to crowd around him. He bent down by a Siberian dwarf pine and gently turned the leaves over.
It was a nest of birds. Four of the younglings were sleeping. They had reds and grey patterns on their growing feathers.
Some of the bird-watchers gasped but immediately muffled their verbal surprise.
"They're long-tailed Rosefinch," Mr. Shirokani whispered, his eyes gleamed with pride. "Aren't they just magnificent?"
"Are they endangered species, Mr. Shirokani?" someone asked in a low voice.
"No, they're not, and praise the mountain god for that," he said. "In our culture, we believe that birds are visitors from the other world temporarily assuming animal shapes."
We quietly left the nest undisturbed and went back to the campsite.
Our lunch break came. I managed to drift away from everyone, pretending to find a quiet spot to read. While Mr. Shirokani was engaged in a conversation with the others, I took off into the direction that led me to stumble upon the cave.
I found it again and crouched down to get a thorough look. It was just as I had left it. I switched the flashlight on, trying to shine through the darkness inside. After a while later, I took a deep breath then tiptoed into the cave. I needed to know what or who was hiding there.
The moment I went past the entrance, I heard the same rustling sounds. My body froze. I held my breath and tried to listen. The sound ceased, and everything was quiet again, except the chirping of wild birds outside. I moved so carefully. I was scared every moment that something would jump out at me- a giant spider or a nesting python. My imagination was no help. The fear was trying to choke me and clog my nose. I knew I'd better get out, but my feet kept pulling me further in. Slowly and gently, I went. The cave ceiling expanded and I could stand upright again. There was a large rock at the corner where I heard the voice. My hand holding the flashlight began to shake. I had to pause and collect myself, gathering my last courage. Then I leaned across the rock and shined the light into the space behind it, and that's when I saw her.
I thought she was dead. She was sitting with her legs against her chest and her head tilted to the side, resting against the wall. She was naked and covered in dirt. Dried-up mud matted onto her long hair. Her skin was golden brown. I looked at her face. The only thing that stopped me from screaming my head off was its outlandish beauty. The girl opened her eyes and looked up at me. Her eyes were like an eagle's. I could even see her dark pupil enlarged and then constricted. Her voice squeaked at the bright light on her face. I quickly shifted it away from her. My heart thudded and thundered.
She also inched away from me, looking afraid and somewhat annoyed.
"Hey," I said after I could find my voice again. "Hey..."
She did not answer and just stared at me with those strange yellow eyes. I swallowed dryly and tried again.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "Are you hurt?"
She shrunk further away but there was nowhere else to turn.
"Do you speak?"
No answer. Maybe she was deaf or mute, or too scared.
At last, I said a formal Ainu greeting that Mr. Shirokani had taught us, irankarapte, which literally means "let me softly touch your heart".
Her eyes softened a little at that, and then she spoke for the first time.
"What do you want?"
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