The wood of the balcony grew, alive, from the tree that was his home, and the branches spreading the petals around the child were of the same tree that supported his socked feet high above the forest floor. A stepped ramp swirled from the balcony down around the tree�s thick trunk, and with the petal held gently between his fingers, the boy carefully descended around the winding stair of smooth bark, laughing as he went. �Laddima! Laddima! Assu floww i go art-a-way from t� syl!�
The stair melted into another balcony about a floor and a half below, a thick branch rising from the base and reaching out over the forest floor. As he rounded the bend, a beautiful woman came into view, her flowing yellow gown sparkling in the patchy, shifting sunlight. She smiled to him, her green eyes bright as she laughed warmly. �Zan-kin, chiel, �t i t� sakurr� i �t nae beaut�ful?� she replied in her musical, soft voice.
�Sakuu�� the child repeated, staring at the blue petal in wonder. �Assu sakuu?� he asked, looking back to his mother and holding it out to her.
But something was wrong. Her face contorted, fear and determination mingling quickly across those smooth features as she turned away from him. The boy could only slowly allow surprise and confusion to dawn upon his own round features as the chill of fear washed over him, paralyzing him. The wood along the trunk of the tree suddenly exploded as a sharp crack rang out, splintering out fragments of bark and heartwood; another quickly followed. His mother rushed to him and pushed him backwards into the balcony�s door and inside their home, her face more stern and angry than ever he�d seen before, even when he�d once taken scissors to the walls of their tree home. He winced as he hit the matted floor inside, and when he opened his eyes again the next second, she was gone, the curtains along the door swirling at her passing.
There were more loud cracks, shots ringing out and zinging and exploding against the wood. The floor vibrated, and the morning seemed to dim, the sunlight gone and the room turning to shadow as though evening had prematurely fallen. He struggled to his numbed feet and staggered out of the door in search of his mother. Blue petals swirled around his footsteps as he ran to the next flight of steps down, calling out, �Laddima!! LADDIMA!!� in the midst of yells, screams, and gunshots that shattered the morning�s stillness.
Several shadows moved through the dimness below, figures in black heading away around the bend of the tree. The boy, his heart pounding, found himself following them, running down the stairs to the lowest balcony as fear gripped his heart with an iron fist.
Reaching the base of the steps, he slowed to a halt, seeing his mother at the far end of the balcony. Her gown was spread out in the air about her as though she were in a dance, and the gem on a bracelet at her wrist was ablaze with a firey light. A sword flashed, leaving a bright streak in his vision as it reflected the gem�s blaze, and she suddenly fell to her knees, her yellow dress pooling about her like a pale ghost in the dimness that followed, the gem�s light suddenly extinguished. She coughed, then crumpled to the smooth bark of the balcony, and didn�t get up. Beyond her falling body, a trio of dark figures stood, one with a wet sword that slowly straightened, grinning cruelly.
�Laddima�� he trembled, a quivering hand reaching for her but his leaden feet unwilling to move. He saw his mother�s hand go limp at her side, and a sword fell from it. He remembered that she kept it beside the door, and that it was sharp, it was dangerous, he wasn�t allowed to touch it.
She didn�t seem to be getting up.
�Laddima!� he cried, running forward to kneel by her body. He shook her vigorously, sobbing. �Laddima Laddima Laddima! B� rezzen, Laddima! Laddima��
They were laughing. The men were laughing at him, and they were laughing his fallen mother. They�d hurt her, and they were laughing.
Rage surged through his young veins and he grabbed the hilt of the sword. A petal drifted away from his hands, as he dropped it, the petal he�d offered to his mother, to take up the sword instead. The crumpled petal gently came to a rest upon his mother�s dress.
Standing quickly, his eyes were ablaze with defiance even as he struggled to keep the sword�s tip from drooping heavily to the floor. They laughed harder, brutal laughter that echoed around him, mocking him for his efforts. Roaring in his child�s voice, he swung the heavy blade at the lead man, but his blow was off-handedly brushed aside to a further chorus of laughter.
�We don�t have time for kids� games,� he heard one say, �just kill him.�
The leader only replied with a cruel grin. He swung hard at the child, and though he lifted the sword to defend himself, the heavy blow wrenched the sword from his tiny hands and sent it clattering away along the balcony. He ignored the loss of his weapon, however, and launched himself with a rageful scream at the swordsman even as the man turned his blade to slash again.
He felt a sharp jerk at his neck as his momentum stopped and then reversed, and then he felt a sharp sting as the man�s sword slashed across the bridge of his nose, narrowly missing his eyes. The boy howled in anger and pain as he was pulled backwards by the neck of his tunic, his own blood flowing into his mouth as he screamed furiously.
Someone was pulling him away. His rescuer jumped from the balcony�s side, pulling him along, and they landed heavily on the ground among the tree�s thick, mossy roots. The roots looked to be coated in dirt and debris now, and the earth around them looked strangely plowed and disturbed, surreal. The creature had the back neck of his tunic firmly in a guantleted hand and carried him as such, the child laying like a sack against his back. He wore black armor that made the child�s kicks and struggles unnoticeable as he was carried away through the darkened trees.
He knew his rescuer. He was one of his family, a creature he�d grown up with, a friend. He continued to kick and scream in his grief-stricken pain, but the maow kept going in silence, running through the trees and carrying the boy from danger.
They broke out into sunlight, a bright warmth that blinded him, but the maow didn�t stop running. The boy turned to sobbing, knowing he was being pulled away from his mother and away from his home, as the blue petals swirled through the bright, morning forest around them as though to mock his wailing, screaming grief.
* * * * *
