Patience and Grace - Bladderwort's DRP

Instructions

The first few months were the greatest they had ever known. Across the border, they turned their path northward, away from the sea, and in this unfamiliarity there was comfort. They met forest whose trees were far taller than waves. Dirt to walk on was softer than sand. They came to a lake. It was water without anger and they fed it that seashell shard they use to wear, thrown into the depth. The fish in the still water were alien to what Bladderwortleap had known by the shore, but died in the same manner and by that sacrifice they knew they would not starve. ... When they woke, it was not to the yells and hisses of early spars, but to birdsong. At night, there were no murmured conversations save those of the insects. The roar and crash of waves was not their companion, but they found greater joy in the quiet rustle of leaves. Best were the pauses in between. When the birdsong stopped and the crickets fell quiet and the the wind was lost. It was there that Bladderwort found what had been lost among the ceaseless clash of claws on rock, the yowl of ever-speaking voice, the infernal laughter from that ocean never stilled. For the first time since birth they had it. True silence. It was more than a quiet and less than a whisper. It was a stillness that reached beyond motion. It was a peace that never left without the promise of return. It was an undisturbed calm during which a single moment seemed forever. It was beauty that blanketed their little shelter and Bladderwort found themself holding their breath to keep from breaking it. ... Sometimes, they felt it. The twisting tendrils like octopus arms tugging at their chest. Fear. The days when fish evaded them, when they slipped on a rock or fell from a tree. They knew they were weak. It wasn't a source of shame, but of worry. Blood-soaked Urchinclan, they'd fled it in the night. Cowardice. If a failed hunt was weakness of body than this was the weakness of heart. Guilt. When the sun set, aglow in amber. A reflection of their sister's eyes, it matched her in colour and distance. Did Shinefallacy hate them? She would be right to. Bladderwort had abandoned her, breaking the unspoken vow of care and protection littermates were suppose to share. It would be better that she thought them dead, lost to the ocean. The mercy of forgiveness was too much to hope for. By their own action, they would never see Shine again and even if they did, who could forgive what they'd done? Then the birds would quiet or the wind would slow. The silence would return, and the tentacles would loose their grasp. ... When they walked in the rain, when they swam in the lake, they could feel it washing the brine from their pelt. ... They made their den in the shelter of an old rabbit burrow. It was small, which did not matter. It would only shelter one. The air inside was dusty, but it was a cosy sort of dusty. Days would be spent in the open, walks beneath the sky. The closeness would serve for safety, so that they would be out of reach from the claws of night predators. The entrance was disguised enough, covered by twisting tree roots and around them a vine that grew far and strong. ... The first warnings came with the beginning of leaf-bare, when the cold grew claws and teeth to sting with. Prey slowed and Bladderwortleap slept on an empty stomach more and more. Snow fell. Another time, they might have enjoyed it. Now it was nothing but splashing from the same puddle that had brought them this hardship. It happened when they were fishing. The lake had frozen over, meaning they would soon have to go after birds, but for now the ice was thin enough that Bladderwortleap could break a hole to fish through. It came suddenly, that single slip, that fatal chill. They'd gone three days without a catch. They'd been desperate, reckless, reached too far, too quickly. ... It was cold, so cold and they couldn't breath. 'Will you tell her?' They thought to the lake. From it came rivers and from rivers came the sea. 'Tell Shine that I miss her?' The frigid water was absolute. They tried to swim, but their gap in the ice seemed so far above and every moment the distance grew and they knew they lacked the strength to reach it. The lake seemed to reach forever. Endless dark, endless cold. Numbly, they realised that this was it. That this oblivion would be their last. They'd made it out of Urchinclan, yet they'd never escape this. The dark forest would not take them. Instead it was clear, fresh water that filled their lungs. Brine was only a memory. Around them, suspended in the frozen lake, hung total, undisrupted silence. ... They died in the dark and they woke in the stars.