Unexpected Places

Disclaimer: *monotoned* Wha, wha, wha, wha, wha, wha, wha……………. What, you didn’t hear what Charlie Brown’s mom said? Well, she saaaaaiiiiiiiiid………Thanks Rumiko Takahashi for letting my imagination run wild.

Reflection of Things Forgotten

Shippo woke to the sounds of an argument. Rubbing his little eyes yawning, he proceeded to stretch himself awake so he could better listen to the angry words.

“Why can’t we hurry to get to the Northern Mountains?” Inuyasha argued.

“There is no reason in hurrying so we might as well take our time. No one lives in the mountains anyway!” Neara scoffed fighting back almost coming close to throwing a tantrum. Inuyasha could infuriate her sometimes. She had to tamp down on her anger and her power before she exploded.

“We need to hurry so they won’t kill anymore lives,” he insisted.

“I would be able to tell if anyone died in the vicinity around me. I keep trying to tell you. It’s a matter of asking…. Sometimes you can be so irritating,” she ground out, “I think you enjoy getting me riled up.”

“Keh,” he rebuked folding his arms in front of his chest. He needed to vent as well. So what if he was trying to get her ‘riled up’ as she so delicately put it. He didn’t get much sleep last night because every dream had a certain woman’s face in it. The closer he got the farther away she became. This trip was supposed to get him back in shape and help him find that mysterious girl. One was being accomplished. The other was nowhere even close. And for the record, he didn’t enjoy getting her riled up… he loved it.

“Shouldn’t we be off to the Northern Mountains?” asked Shippo diverting the argument away.

“Yes we should,” Neara agreed. She went back to cleaning up the campsite. Inuyasha went to get water for dousing the fire with. When he got back Neara was ready to leave.

“Get on my back. I don’t feel like walking a snail’s pace today,” he grumbled sarcastically.

“Fine,” she said picking up Toka, who was fast asleep again, and Shippo. She placed Toka comfortably inside her haori and cradled Shippo near her chest. He relaxed as she climbed on Inuyasha’s back.

That morning’s argument was forgotten.

He crouched low pushing off to fly over the tree tops. He sailed through the air using a nearby tree as a launch pad to fly through the branches of the trees. The wind washed her face whipping through her hair combing her luscious locks into a disheveled state which could be cured with a hand through the silky strands.

Once again she was able to enjoy the wild free wind. She loved the wind and it soothed her. It caressed her lightly and she in turn loved it. Neara felt a lot like the wind, but some how she felt bound, almost caged. Untamed and Wild could be her middle names, but she didn’t feel free yet. Something was holding her back. She was missing something.

Maybe in due time she would be able to break free of her cage. Whether it is internally or physically, not even she knew.

Neara rested her cheek on his back looking out at the expanse of trees, the closest ones whisking by. The girl closed her eyes thinking of memories that should have been long forgotten.

***

All she could remember of her mother was her smile and her tear streaked face. Her fake smiles were reserved for her child even though her heart broke when her child hurt. Neara’s pain was her pain. She cried at night in her husband’s arms about how much Neara was disgraced and rejected just because she was different.

Her mother never knew that Neara was right outside weeping with her; for her mother.

‘It’s alright mama. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m here with you.’ She would tell herself over and over again.

They might have said bad things about her, but she didn’t care. They always said that she would never be like them, but then again who wanted to. She didn’t like being mean especially if it was her whom it was directed at. She got used to turning a deaf ear at an early age. Something she liked to call “selective hearing.”

Neara was always content with playing by herself; more like used to it. Somehow the children would always find her and break her “dirty” toys. Of course she would run back to her mama and cry about how they broke her favorite ball, or jump rope, or dolly. Never to cry about the horrible names they call her: shit-blood, tainted slut, whore, dirty bitch. The insults only children could come up with. Whenever they touched her, they had to leave to wash their hands from the infection she seemed to not know she carried around.

Finally, one day when another one of her toys was broken, her mother wasn’t there to comfort her. She was lying on her bed with her father kneeling by the side holding her hand sobbing.

She could hear her father at the end of the hall. It was dusk and a warm breeze filled the large passageway to her parent’s room. With every step it seemed it took an hour as the air became thick with sorrow and pain. The closer she got, the more it seemed something was fatally wrong.

She wanted to run to see what the matter was, but her limbs wouldn’t move. It all seemed like a dream, but the saltiness of tears stung her nose.

Oh why was her sense of smell so acute? Why her hearing so sharp? Why was everything so much stronger?

Tears were falling, words were chanted.

“Why, why, why… No, no, oh no.” Over and over and over, making her head spin from the fear and possibility.

The door was ajar a crack. She nudged it open wider and wider still until her head came through to see the devastating scene before her eyes.

Her greatest fears came true. Death was thick in the air and this was the first time she could taste it, if you ever could. Death was something hard to describe, but worth trying.

It is the scent of tears slowly filling a room. The taste of salt as it reached your lips slightly swelling your tongue. It is the pain of sorrow as your heart broke; especially for a loved one. The fear of reality as you realize your own time is nothing but an insignificant spark that isn’t big or bright enough to light the smallest of fires. Death is also the anger felt when being left alone only to want to be left alone when offered comfort.

Neara ran to her father wrapping herself around him to feel comforted and also to drain her large reserve of tears that just didn’t seem to slow. She turned her head to look at her mother.

The woman was beyond pale, a ghostly white. Her eyes closed as if in an eternal sleep, but her chest refused to rise and fall. She was cold to the touch with her hair fanning out on the pillow below her. She looked to be at peace finally though.

Neara’s emotions were very depressed and grief stricken to think that she was at peace because both her father and she were no where near it. It was eating her alive like poison. She thought that her heart would never heal.

If she listened close enough, she could hear her thoughts.

“Why…why…why”

“No…no…no”

If she took a decent sniff, she could smell the salt of her father and her tears.

Oh why was everything so strong? Why was her heart breaking so badly? Why was this pain worse than her toys being broken or her mother’s nightly tears for her child’s sake?

Because her mother was now gone. Never would she give her comfort or cry for her or make her a new dolly or teddy bear. Never. No more. She was gone.

Then Neara found out three years later that the pain would ease, her heart would mend…

To break and tear her apart again.

This time she knew what death was. She also knew that her father was ill as well. Maybe he was still heart broken over the death of his wife. Neara was able to say good bye to him and continued to tell him how much she forgave and loved him.

He kept apologizing over and over hoping it would make her feel better.

When it came time for his death, the pain didn’t ease nor did her heart quit breaking. She cried throughout the night and during the preparation of his body for his burial.

She buried him next to her mother in a secret secluded area that she had stumbled upon when being chased by her regular bullies as a child. Now she was fifteen, alone and scared. Fate was not dealing her a very good hand and she quite seriously thought about folding.

She knew there was no way they would let her stay. Just as she thought, when she got home they were raiding her house. Shock and disbelief rooted her to the spot to see what destruction they could cause. They were so cruel.

Their hatred so vile it sent shivers down her spine. Her hands felt clammy, but soon her shock turned to anger; her disbelief boiled to rage. Her hands fisted up and she stormed into her house with determination. One by one she tossed each vile boy out of her domain. Out of fear they ran. Neara wasn’t going to stand up and let this happen to her or her parent’s most treasured belongings. She collected the last teddy bear her mother made for her; the necklace her father had given her. The last thing that went into her satchel was some food for the way. She didn’t have to eat very often so a little bit went a long way.

The scent of smoke filled her nostrils and soon she saw the glow of torches getting closer. Night was upon them so it would be easy to get away. She slipped out the back silently inching towards the forest watching the lighted torches as they got closer. She was so intent on seeing if the lynchers would see her, she completely didn’t pay attention to the obstacle in her path and bumped right into it. Unfortunately she saw it was a person that she had knocked down. Quickly she helped him up giving him an apologetic bow afterwards. Fortunately it was her uncle. The one who seemed to love her not caring if she was different. Only a select few didn’t regard her as lowly.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked as if unaware of her current situation.

“Yes, it seems I am not welcome any more,” she replied staring at the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Bah… rubbish talk. If I say you are welcome then you are welcome.”

“But uncle,” she snapped her head up to look at him, “I don’t want to be around people who resent me and think they will catch some kind of leprosy just by touching me.”

She turned her head breaking eye contact saying quietly honestly, “But I don’t want to leave my home to them to plunder through and destroy.”

“Well my child, I will watch over it whilst you are gone. Come back when you feel you are ready.”

“Thank you uncle,” she smiled gratefully.

“Now give your old uncle a hug. I don’t want you leaving without giving me one. I so cherish your hugs even though they are so few and far in between.”

She respected his wishes and found that in return she felt at peace and comforted.

Soon she was off waving good bye as she ran away from oppression and into the free air that soothed her. She found out later that the wind was the one thing that definitely comforted her.

Neara kept running and running away. Running from memories, from death, from pain and sorrow. Everything seemed to leave her mind as she followed her heart wherever it led her.

********************

A/N: Sorry it's short, but it was important. You should know why. Anyway, I was going to lengthen it but the other part wouldn't have fit with what I was going for here. Well, as always review and I hope you like it. AND if you have any ideas about what you think will go with the story I will try my best to incorporate them in. As usual any criticism is accepted. I write for myself and for you. Review and until next time.

Love, peace, and chicken grease
IL20