Morning light shone across Acanasser Island. The bright gold sun beamed down against the pearlescent white sand, as the dawn of an orange sky woke the world from its slumber. In the forests, focs, knemels, and other critters began to stir with the light. With the sun rising, so too did the ecosystem of this strange place, and in an island unclaimed by human hands - the wilderness had taken its rightful dominion over these lands.
From its small burrow, hidden beneath the thickets, a small red cordel poked its nose from the entryway - looking around for any signs of the predators that would make it their lunch. Staring through the brambles, the Cordel could see a few ravenous creatures darting through the undercrop. A large cat-like animal pounced on a scurrying rodent a few metres away, chasing it off into the deeper forests as it keenly searched for its breakfast. A strange dingo-like creature, with a crystalline shimmer to it, also patrolled the area. The Cordel waited for that strange dingo to pass - before bounding out of its hole, jumping with adroit precision through the undergrowth.
The Cordel knew that the hunters prowled out here. It was a dangerous game to go out into that wilderness for anything but food, and as it bounded through the gaps in the forest floor, it didn't seem intent on grabbing the berries beneath the undergrowth that the cordels fed on. No, something else drove it.
As it bounded from the forest toward the shoreline, it jumped across fallen logs and brambles, bounding toward the stream that ran through the island. Reaching the water's edge, it began to lap up little sips of the refreshing liquid, lost within that cool tasteless elixir for a moment as it sated its thirst.
From behind it, the creature heard the hair-raising snap of a broken twig. It turned around, and staring down from a few metres away, was a vicious cat-like beast, staring down - opening its mouth and licking its lips.
As the Cordel saw the horrid toothy maw of that creature, it quickly bounded across the river, jumping across the stones protruding from the water. That beast chased swiftly behind it: charging, gaining, starving. Though it was hard for the larger animal to navigate the brambles, it was a lot faster than the tiny Cordel, and with the brambles beginning to clear - the Cordel would have to find another way to slow it down or evade it, should it wish to survive the encounter. Bounding through the forest, the beast began to gain as the weeds began to clear. As the two creatures darted through the forest, the Cordel saw an old stone building ahead of it - and in its wall, a small hole enough for it to squeeze its body through.
Darting with speed toward the hole, the beast was nearly within biting distance as they approached the stone wall. Leaping forward, about to clutch the small critter in its claws, the Cordel darted as the beast pounced - barely evading its clutches as the beast fumbled with the rodent's tail. As its tail snuck through the gaps in its paws, the Cordel bounded off: disappearing into the little hole before it.
Inside, the building felt dark, but as the Cordel entered - the oppressive fugue of sadness began to lighten. The fortress was a strange place, where emotions seemed palpable on the air inside, and that tiny little rodent seemed capable of lifting the spirits of an entire room. Scurrying over to a pile of tiny twigs in the corner of the room, the Cordel bit one in his mouth, scurrying over - methodically placing each one, arranging them to write a message.
"Good morning," it read.
As the sun shone down through a small aperture overhead, it seemed to spread across the room as the oppressive darkness of the fortress was subdued by the warmth of that greeting. Like a poltergeist hiding in the walls, the fortress seemed to be brimming with its own life. The Cordel could feel the emotions on the air, the excitement, as the dull fortress began to awaken once more with the excitement of another visit. She could feel its emotions on the air, its thoughts, how it hated to be alone.
It wasn't alone right now though, the Cordel was here with it - with him. The Cordel rearranged its twigs once more, a laborious process, but one the fortress was more than happy to wait for: any company is good company when you've been alone for so long.
"How are the critters, Jamie? New friends yet?" The Cordel wrote.
The fortress had a dull response. Unsuccessful, it seemed to say. It was a sad and dejected kind of aura that emanated from the walls, yet it was not one without hope. It had met a little bird the other day, and the fortress seemed to think it might build its nest here soon. The little Cordel rearranged its twigs once more.
"You'll get there," it replied.
It was a long conversation, each sentence taking nearly a minute to communicate, but as the little Cordel scurried across the floor - messaging with those twigs, it could feel the joy upon the fortress air. The fortress felt felicity from even the tiniest company - and that made her feel happy too. This was a hard life, the little Cordel told itself, but not one without rewards - and for a woman who'd sought to get away from the complexities of the world, she had the simplicity of talking, foraging for food, and living life in the moment: no longer being clutched by the past. She enjoyed it.
Upon the air, as the Cordel scurried around while intense emotions wafted through the stone room, the scent of gratitude seemed to fill the small creature's being. It was a strange experience, to smell emotion, yet that gratitude seemed to have the scent of both petrichor and fragrant hyacinth.
As the little Cordel crossed the floor, writing its literature in twigs, she thought about the woman who'd brought them together - who'd done all this to help the two of them, a boy she'd never met, and a woman she'd barely known. Her face crossed its little mind. It was happy, satisified with the simplicity of it all, and as far as reincarnations go - she was helping to raise a kid while living a simpler life. That's what the old her, Andy, had wanted more than anything else.
You did a pretty fine job, she said in her head to a person thousands of worlds away from her own tiny existence, as she rearranged her little sticks upon the cold stone floor - writing a new message, that little Cordel emitting the same gratitude as the fortress.
"Thank you, Malarie."
Off in another world, she hoped that the Goddess watching over them might see it and feel a little satisfaction. She hoped that those little twigs, miles away, could offer a momentary contentment to the woman above - just like the rabbit and the fortress were able to feel, because of her.
