Phoenix Reborn (Woodland Creek)(6)

She was so beautiful now. So gentle. No one that he’d met over the years, not even the most gorgeously attired, thin, manicured actresses, had even begun to come close to Ashling. And, he knew, no one ever would. She was otherworldly, her beauty only enhanced by the fact that she couldn’t see it.

His gait lightened as he walked. He would see her again; he knew it. And when he did, he’d find a way to let her know how he felt. He’d let her know that she had never been alone, even in the darkest days. That he’d always watched over her, as others had.



* * *



Ashling abided by Ranach’s wishes and made her way outdoors that afternoon, with the promise to herself that she’d return later to finish another silver piece.

The University Observatory was a favourite haunt of hers, and had been since she could remember. Up a long, steep pathway flanked by tall trees, the area was generally quiet, devoid of people, and lured her frequently away from civilization. On occasion she’d run into a fellow recluse on her walks up the slope, but like her, they avoided eye contact, looking to the trees or the distant buildings, until each was well out of reach of the other. Breathing communal sighs of relief and continuing on their way.

On this day, there was very little risk of eye contact with humans. Ranach was right; she did spend too much time indoors. The studio was her place of comfort, of safety. But here, outside, she had to admit that she felt everything melt away; all those worries that nagged at her seemed to shed and sail off in the breeze.

She loved to watch the birds soaring above, free in their open sky, safe from all that might hunt them down below. That was their true sanctuary, as the silversmith’s studio had become hers. And she envied and admired the birds for their gift of flight. Their freedom from earthly cares.

As she hiked, Ashling kept her eyes focused largely on the clear blue expanse above her. Anything that took her mind to another place, to the beauty of nature and creatures whom she could admire from a distance, was a good thing.

She made her way up the tall hill, where she knew she’d find some large rock or fallen tree to sit on. The sun had come to rest high in the sky, and the air smelled of late autumn: crisp, clean; the aroma of decaying leaves scattered about and picked up by the breeze. A few clouds stretched across the deep blue above, but none threatened to block the warmth that was pouring down, caressing her shoulders and lighting her long hair to a fiery red-brown.

When she reached the top and passed the Observatory to wander to the quiet area at its rear, she sat down and pulled out an apple that she’d shoved into her satchel. With the first crisp bite she scanned the sky once again, disappointed by its frustrating emptiness. Nothing. Not even a bloody pigeon.

Still, it had been worth the brief climb for the solitude, the sun and the time to think about absolutely nothing and everything at once. In these moments of aloneness, she always felt that the world was a clean canvas opening itself up before her. Everything that had ever happened in her relatively brief life seemed for the moment to matter very little, and perhaps — just perhaps — something great was yet to come.

But moments such as these were invariably interrupted by worry, and worse: a fear shrouding her, forming a cloud just above her head that seemed to separate her from the surrounding beauty. The same fear that had held her back all her life, kept her from advancing, from looking for those talents that Ranach insisted she had. A paralysis taking hold of her, stopping her in her tracks.

And today it was coloured by her brief chat with Hawke. All the good memories, accompanied by the recollection that in one fell swoop her relationship with him had gone crashing to the ground, a shattering piece of glass. Fragmented now, and irreplaceable.

For too many years she’d succumbed to this feeling of a looming concern; the heavy, repeated question, like a weight strapped to her neck. What if it happened again? That loss of control which, in one quick instant, had ruined her life and robbed her of any chance at normalcy.

It seemed as though each day she contemplated running away to start over somewhere, to see if maybe she could get a handle on all of it. But as she sat and breathed deeply, slowly, she told herself that today was not the day. Today was enjoyable and nearly worry-free. She’d seen Hawke, who’d apparently managed to leave the past in the past.

She’d crafted a beautiful bird of fire. And Ranach had been right, naturally; she’d needed to get out and breathe the fresh air. Nothing would have made her happier, and happiness was a rare commodity, a gem. It was to be nurtured, cultivated and appreciated in those brief moments when the light caught it just so. Because in a flash, it could disappear. And there was no way to know when it might return.

She rose after her period of contemplation, disappointed in the lack of an eagle but refreshed nonetheless by a series of positive thoughts.

And that’s when she heard it.

The distant cry of a bird of prey high overhead. Once again her eyes veered upwards, searching, avoiding the blinding laser of the sun.

She saw him instantly.

The Golden Eagle was moving high in the sky in smooth circles, gliding directly above her. And as she watched, he seemed to come closer, to grow larger, the circles descending gradually towards her until she realized that she could make out each feather on his wings, even the colour of his talons. He was a beautiful creature, his head noble, his eyes alert as he studied the landscape around him.

His flight was calculated as he spiralled downward, as though his target were exactly where she stood.