Only Sound

Mara I looked out my window to see that nothing changed. Trees zip by in blurs of green and gold, a plethora of sun rays attempting to blind me. We then enter an area of treeline thinner than the rest of the forest. I turn to look at my parents and newborn sister, sitting across a small table from me. I made eye contact with my father just before he stood up and walked down the cart aisle. Something inside me hinted that he got up because I looked at him. I turn my attention to my mother. As she rocks my sister, pools of light coming through the window speck her face. She always looks beautiful, but with the way the sun hit and the serenity of the scene, I felt an awe regarding her. I feel proud to be of her blood, even if she despises the fact. My sister twists in her sleep, and my mother swiftly moves to comfort her. I wonder if she had ever made a similar action when I was a baby. My father returned from wherever he had traveled to, and took his place next to his wife. I start to turn away, intending to respect his unrest around me, when he clears his throat and calls to me, “Mara, I have consulted the attendant of the next cart over, and we have set up a housing for you there. There will be a week or so yet before we get to the border and your mother and I...” At the mention of her name, mother looks up at him, then moves so as to be able to watch me as well. “...have no interest in continuing this formality that we have established. You have understood early on that you are not a welcome part of this family, and it's about time that we seperate.” I wish I could say I saw this coming, but when they promised to accompany me to the border, I had assumed that they would be with me. My hopes of a loving goodbye tarnished, I dully respond as I was taught, “As you wish Sir Halton, I shouldn’t intrude on your family's cart any longer. I suppose, you might wish to see me out?” How foolish. I turn my gaze to the floor and get up silently as he lets out an audible scoff. Knowing that we are at the front of the train, I start to head towards the south end but then Sir Halton, I must try to not refer to him as father, said for me to go to the other door. But the other door is the conductors area. He must read the confusion on my face, for he says, “Why would we willingly plague the other passengers with the likes of you? The attendant said that there is a space between this car and the next that is void of occupation. You are to travel the rest of the way in there.” His statement is understandable, but that doesn't mean it hadn't hurt. I started in the other direction when the train came to a sudden stop. I rush to the window and notice the trees here are not only considerably bigger than those minutes ago, but also more droopy and, so it seemed, more restless. But yet, at the same time, it seemed so eerily calm. Within moments the trees splintered and crumbled and flew. No. Trees positively do not fly. Chaos erupted around me. Attendants running and passengers screaming. Even the conductor fled. But within all the noise was one other, more prominent than the others, the incredible sound of a repetitive thawap. I heard that sound once before in a dream, or what I convinced myself was a dream. Then came the fire. The crying of a baby. The sound of metal being crushed. Of mother, falling limply to the ground under a caved in ceiling. Of a small bundle rolling from her grasp. Something inside me said to go pick it up. My fingers wrapped around it right as everything went silent, followed immediately by pain. Then the world went black. I wake up to darkness. A throbbing in the back of my head leads me to an understanding, and after probing my face with my fingers, I confirm the terror of it, I've become blind. I move to stand up and notice something in my lap. Then I remember what happened. I remove the thing from my lap and stand up, but my head throbs and I collapse to my knees. So if I can't see or stand, maybe I can crawl. I cradle the bundle to my chest and crawl on hand and knees, except that there is debris in all directions and I don't get far before I am not only stuck, but lost. How am I supposed to live this way? Then my hand brushes what I believe is a feather, and I get an idea. I tap into the magic that is the source of my family's resentment towards me, and reach outwards towards the nearest creature with eyes. Through it I can see what has happened. My view is suddenly thrust into the sky and I recognise my eyes as those of a bird. From up there, I notice a large mass near the train, as well as myself. Using the bird to see where I'm going, I crawl the distance to the mass. I'm nearly there when the mass starts to move. Then the bird turns away from it and I can no longer see it. Trying to use the bird as my eyes would be a waste of energy if I can't see the possible threat, so I retract my magic and decide to test my voice. “Hello?” I call, to no answer, but then, something growls. I try again to find nearby eyes and find that the mass has some, but it seems to be magical, its mind is blocked. I find a nearby squirrel and see the mass for what it is, a beauty wiped from the history books, burned from memories, swiped from tales. I know it only from the minds of the elders and critters. If it is what it appears… “Hello? Are you hurt?” I call out again, it should be able to understand me and communicate, but again there is no answer. I stop trying to call to it and decide to watch it through the eyes of a nearby snail. All of a sudden the ground starts to shake, and from the snails point of view, I see the thing start to stand. Or at least it attempts to stand. It manages to get onto its front two legs, then collapses, sending me sprawling backward with enough force to knock the wind out of me. It tries again to stand, this time managing to not collapse, although it sits propped up on its front two legs for several moments before it pulls its back legs in underneath it and stands up as best it can. Its head to the sky, neck craned, it lets out an uncanny sound, loud and gory, yet not quite what you would think a roar sounds like. It then proceeds to stretch, swinging its wings out to each side, lowering its front half to the ground and digging its claws into the dirt to such an extent as to create a trench big enough to hide a person in. Through the snail I watch its tongue flap out of its mouth as it lets out a long yawn. It then rights itself, and gives its wings a flap or two. The snail whose eyes I was borrowing then decides to hide in its shell, and is no longer useful and all the other animals in the area seem to either be in hiding or in the process of running away, their backs to me and the thing. I am left completely in the dark, right as the creature decides it wants to be active. Scrambling backward on one hand and weak legs is very difficult, but I manage to get out of the way of the thing and right on time it seams, as right where I just was, something, presumably a foot, crashes into the ground, sending ripples through the life on the ground around me, and pebbles rocketing through the air. I move to protect my face from the incoming rocks, and accidentally drop the bundle. I scramble to find it, but then I hear it cry. I hear the thing move in some way, and for the first time, I become very worried about it. But it's cries turn to laughs, and I feel the presence of eyes on me.