Part 1
All the trees were in the springtime radiantly blooming, Endless vales that in the summer sunshine brilliant shone. Pink and yellow, white and blue upon the branches opened, Filling every grove and thicket with their hues divine. While upon the languid air there drifted smells so pleasant, Gentle, soft caressing scents that hovered on the breeze. One beneath each flower’d tree could find a tiny Eden, Sit in silence, grasp the peace that waited near at hand. Butterflies and dragonflies went flitting gently roundward, While the birds up in the trees their songs to Heaven raised. Even the great rusted parts of robots seen protruding As they poked up gently from the turf and the green grass Added to the quietness and peace upon the place spread, As the sun sat languid in the middle of the air. Up atop a sturdy tree branch Saera sat and nestled, Cradling her book within the palms of both her hands. Gently she peered down upon the pages of her volume, Reading quietly as stories filled her resting mind. Her three friends, the other Elementals, were not distant, Camping in this forest to which they’d recently come. Saera, though, had stol’n away, to spend some time in reading, Grasping for what little peace and quiet she could find. Saera’s hair was white as snow, her skin as pale as moonlight, So that she at times gave off a ghostly, spectral look. Pale, too, were her eyes: around her pupils there gleamed silver, So even in springtime’s warmth she carried hint of chill. Now upon the branch she sat and read in quiet stillness, On a branch too high for her to naturally have climbed. She turned pages idly: she was still not used to paper, Having grown up all her life with e-readers for use. But such a device would have been traceable easily, So she’d stolen this, a volume of old fairy tales. Some she knew, but others were a total revelation, And with pleasure now she turned the pages of the book. Silence reigned about her that was absolute and total, For there was no wind around her, and the birdsong gone. Everything around her had been strangely, firmly muffled, So she sat, and smiled and read, as all the hours went by. As she read, from time to time she snacked upon a ripe pear, Biting absentmindedly and eating without fear. But at length up to her ears there came the sound of voices, Younger voices raised in something sounding like dispute. Saera’s silver eyes grew wide, and then she put her book down, Bent over her branch and peered down to the ground below. Two small children bantered back and forth at the tree’s bottom, One, a boy with bright blue pants, now pointed up above. “I say that she’s real! Look, you can see her in the tree there!” “You’re so wrong!” a girl replied, who wore a bright red dress. “There’s no way that anyone could climb that tree so high up! We’re just seeing things! She’s nothing more than a mirage!” Smiling gently, Saera stowed her book inside her pocket, And crawled round her branch until she’d moved quite out of sight. Then she moved, but not her body—moved something outside her, And within her, too. And now the winds began to swirl. They became so powerful—and then she jumped, and as she Fell down from the branch the winds swirled round her, and they caught, Caught her up and made her fly. She floated on the breezes, Which then sent her gradually descending towards the ground, Until Saera’s feet touched on the grass, then with a wave of Her pale hand the winds died down; the air was soft again. As the winds withdrew Saera brushed back her ghostly white hair, And stepped round the tree with a soft smile and “Hello.” “You!” the boy exclaimed, as he jumped backward in amazement. You are real! It’s you! I knew I wasn’t seeing things!” “How did you get down from the tree branch?” the girl now asked her. “It’s a secret,” Saera said, “one I won’t tell you now.” The young children, neither of whom had turned eight years old yet, Looked up at the teenage girl who stood there, pale and white, Wearing dull green breeches and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up. Silver eyes gleamed gently as she said, “What are your names?” “I am Orchid!” said the boy, who stomped and puffed his chest out. “My name is Chrysanthemum,” the girl in red replied. “Who are you?” “My name is Saera.” “What place did you come from?” “I came from a city very far away,” she said. “Where are you right now?” Chrysanthemum asked, sounding eager. “I and my friends are off in the woods, not far from here.” “Oh, you have some friends?” “Yes, I have three; we are four total.” “And you’re staying outside?” Chrysanthemum’s voice was sad. “We are wanderers, who roam from place to place with no home.” “That’s so awful!” said the young girl, frown upon her face. “You should stay with us!” said Orchid, jumping up, excited. “We have room for guests, and we have food and new clothes too!” Saera stood in silence, blinking silver eyes and thinking. Both children looked up at her with eager, happy gaze. Finally she said, “I’ll have to ask my friends; wait here please,” And then with light feet began to run back through the woods. She did not believe the boy or girl were lying to her, But she knew her friends would have to have their say as well. When both children drifted out of sight she started flying, Winds around her whipping to lift her off of the ground. Gliding through the trees she reached at last her destination: There was a campsite with smoke that rose above the boughs. As Saera emerged within the campsite, she beheld her Friends as they were scattered round the clearing, sparse and green. There was a girl, shorter than her, curvier as well, who Had long hair, and it was colored deep blue, like the sea. She had sallow skin, and her eyes were sapphire blue; they Were the deep blue of the oceans, as they turned her way. There were also two boys; one was shorter, and with brown skin, And hair, chin-length, colored an arresting crimson red. Red, too, were his eyes, like rubies, and they seemed to glimmer, Glowing from within as he bent over piled sticks. The other boy, taller, tallest of them all, was paler, Though he was not quite as pale as Saera. His brown hair Glimmered slightly, as it caught the light; it seemed metallic. And his eyes were copper brown, so warm and soft and rich, But as they turned over to see Saera as she landed They shifted, becoming more like bronze, sharper and hard. “Hey!” said Marin, long and navy hair swirling around her As the wind from Saera blew about as she touched down. “All done reading?” Terry asked, and brushed his brown hair backward. “Ardo seems like he might need your help starting the fire.” Ardo, with his crimson hair, indeed stood o’er the fire pit, Flames erupting from his hands and splashing on the ground. “I don’t need her fucking help!” he shouted, quite irately, As his fire flared. “I can do this all on my own!” “Calm down, idiot,” said Marin, scowling in annoyance. “Let us help you out, okay? Try not to be so proud.” For a moment Saera felt an urge to keep her secret, Keep the children to herself and not disturb her friends. But she shook her head to clear herself, and then said, gently, “I met two children as I was reading in the tree. They say there’s a town nearby, and that they’ll let us stay there. I think it’d be better than more sleeping in the woods.” “A bed? A roof? A bath? Oh, yes!” said Marin, sounding joyful, Leaping up to Saera and embracing her dear friend. “I don’t know,” said Terry, copper eyes aglint with worry. “What if the Technocracy could find us in the town? I don’t want to bring our troubles down upon those folks’ heads.” “I think we’ll be fine,” said Saera, with a hopeful smile. “We can keep our powers to ourselves; I did that just now. They don’t have to know that we are special or unique. And if they don’t know, they likely won’t betray our presence. Besides, we don’t have to stay long; we’ll leave in a week.” Terry still there stood and brooded, solid as the mountains, Though he merely had a teenager’s long, slender form, And his eyes again did that strange shift, changing from copper To bronze. They did this when he was worried, or concerned. “Come on, man,” said Ardo, putting out his flames and rising. “It’ll be fine; don’t you want a roof above your head?” Terry sighed at last, and said, “All right, we’ll go and stay there.” “Yes!” said Marin, pumping both her fists in great delight. “As I said, they don’t know of our powers yet,” said Saera, “So we’ll have to go to them on foot to keep those hid.” “Fine by me!” said Marin, packing up her sack and blanket. “God, just think, I haven’t washed my hair in weeks by now.” “Haven’t washed your panties, either,” Ardo said, and leered down. “Shut up, dumbass!” Marin snapped, and water nearby foamed. “Come on, let’s pack up and go,” said Terry with his eyes rolled. So the four packed up their bags and left their camp behind. “There you are!” said Chrysanthemum as she saw them coming. “This is wonderful! We never have guests in our town!” “This is Ardo,” Saera said, “and Marin; this is Terry.” “Nice to meet you,” Marin said, her eyes a sparkling blue. “Yo,” said Ardo. Terry said, “Thank you for your kind offer.” “We’re happy to do it,” Orchid said, “so come on now!” All the trees were swaying as the springtime breeze blew gently. Flower petals rained in colored plumage from above. Saera laughed as they began to walk, her spirits soaring, And the breeze went blowing faster, sent more petals down. Marin’s hair and Chrysanthemum’s dress were blowing briskly, As they wended through the forest, leaving it behind. “Whoa!” said Ardo, as at last they left the forest proper, And as they gazed out onto a beaming, wondrous sight. Miles on miles ahead of them there bloomed great fields of flowers, Flowers open, flowers growing, flowers smelling sweet. Sunlight gleamed upon them, and the sky was fair, and cloudless. Scents and colors hovered there, a dream upon the breeze. “Roses!” Marin said, amazed. “They’re all roses!” she shouted. “Yes!” said Orchid. “We grow roses for the entire world! Kings, executives, princesses all need roses sometimes, So they come to us, and we supply them what they need.” Having said this, Orchid and Chrysanthemum kept walking, And the Elementals followed, marveling the while. Marin felt her heart aflutter at the sight and beauty. Even Terry felt his nerves relax amid the scene. Ardo smiled and glanced from side to side at all the flowers. Saera too kept smiling, couldn’t shake her dreamy thoughts. Finally, a sense of peace came o’er the Elementals, Feeling that, perhaps, they might now rest their tired hearts. Roses, roses everywhere! In every hue and color, Red and pink and white and yellow, even in soft blue. Roses grew in colors Saera did not know the name of, And they budded and they blossomed in tremendous ways. “I have never seen a rose like this,” she said, and looked down, Onto a white rose that streaked with stripes of bloody red. “Long ago our great ancestors tampered with the roses. They were mightier than us,” said Orchid with a smile. “We are humble growers. We must now make trade of roses, Selling for our livelihood within our little town.” As he said this Marin looked out and she said, “I see it!” Sure enough a swell of buildings very soon appeared. They were creamy white with roofs of many happy colors, Most of them were small, with one large building in the hub. Terry saw what looked like remnants of electric fencing, But as they grew close he saw that it was broken down, Most emitters rusted and destroyed—some outright missing. The entire town seemed unprotected and exposed. “There you children are!” a voice cried out as they drew closer, And a stocky woman waddled out into the road. “Hello, mama!” Chrysanthemum said, and took off running, “Look who we found! We made some new friends out in the woods!” “So I see,” the matron said, and narrowed her eyes sharply. “Who might you be, sirs and madams, and where are you from?” “We--” “We’ve traveled very far,” said Saera, stopping Marin, “We escaped from slavery, and have been on the run. I hope we have lost the ones who chase us, but I’m not sure; We have not seen them in a long time, at any rate.” “Slavery is wretched stuff,” the matron muttered slowly, And her eyes lost some of their suspicion and their fear. “What?” said Ardo underneath his breath as Saera talked now. “Just go with it, I guess,” Terry softly answered him. “Yeah,” said Marin, stepping forward, ragged breeches swishing, “We’ve been on the run so long, and it’s been very tough. We could use a place to rest a while, and relax some. Your two children offered us some shelter. Hope that’s fine.” “Yeah!” said Orchid, “we said they could stay with us, we promised! Please, mama, please them stay here! It won’t be too bad.” “I will have to ask the chieftain to receive permission, But for now, the four of you are welcome at my house.” “Thank you, so much, ma’am,” Terry replied. The matron nodded. “Daisy is my name,” she said. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” Daisy gathered up the basket she had on her elbow. Then she started walking, with her children close behind. So the Elementals went behind her through the village, Passing people of all ages dressed in colored clothes. Some were old and some were young and some were in between these, But they all looked worn and drawn, as though they’d suffered much. In contrast the Elementals bloomed with life and freshness, Seeming more akin to all the roses growing round. “Here we are,” said Daisy, and she walked into a doorway, Orchid and Chrysanthemum went coming close behind. “Remember,” said Saera, as the four stood on the threshold, “Don’t let them know what we are.” And then she went inside. The cottage was small, but neat, with wood floors cleanly polished, And soft hutches that were painted every rosy shade. “Mama, have the children come back yet?” a voice then echoed, And around a corner of the kitchen stepped a man. No, not quite a man—a teenage boy, about their own age, With tanned skin and hair of sandy gold upon his head. His and Saera’s eyes met up, and she felt something flicker, Felt a stirring in her chest that was not there before. “Here we are, big brother!” Chrysanthemum said and hurried, Running up to hug her other brother round his waist. “Look, we’ve brought some friends to stay with us!” she said, delighted. “I can see that,” said the older boy. “Who might they be?” “Terry,” he said, stretching out a hand and stepping forward; “Your mother was kind enough to let us step inside.” “I’m called Marter,” said the teenage boy. “These are my siblings; They and I and mama live in this house by ourselves.” “Marin’s my name!” “I’m called Ardo.” “Nice to meet you both now.” Then he turned and with a smiling face said, “What’s your name?” “I am Saera,” she began, her voice a gentle whisper. She said nothing next, but merely stared into his eyes. Marin, right beside her, smiled knowingly at Saera; The two boys stood there, oblivious to what transpired. “Well,” said Marter, who turned gently off into the kitchen, “If my mama’s fine with it, I guess you’ll be our guests. We are poor, but what we have we offer to you freely, If you don’t mind helping out a bit around the house. Now, come on: your clothes are ragged, and you all are dirty. You should bathe yourselves, and then we’ll get you all new clothes.” Saera watched him go; indeed, she could not take her eyes off, As he moved into the house to fetch brushes and tubs. Through the house a gentle breeze began to faintly flutter-- But Saera tamped down her heart, and hurried on behind.
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