[Feint]

Solari ------------------------------------ Ohitsuji


Solari glided through the lower canopy, dodging vines and whatnot growing off the trunks and branches. It was the dullness of early morning beneath the treetops, and the loudness of school at lunchtime. Thousands of insects chirped with the birds, monkeys screeched, frogs whistled, and the treebound jaguars made a sound like loud yawning. Solari flapped lazily, daydreaming of the million other sounds she couldn't identify and the many more in the understories. Ohitsuji peered over the side of Solari's back at the empty blackness below. The understory was yet another layer of treetops that blocked nearly all light from reaching what lived beneath. It was a permanent night down there, dark and foreboding. Ohitsuji looked down in his palm. There was a small stone. He giggled. He'd been waiting for this moment all week. When the brush tops looked the sparsest, he dropped the stone. It fell strait down into the unknown. Ohitsuji craned his neck around to stare at the spot it had fallen. His imagination danced with the possibilities of the fate of that stone. Solari and Ohitsuji had never been to the understory in all of their lives, and it was to them the abandoned house or mysterious attic to young children. Tales of monsters so big they could swallow a battleheart whole were passed from tree child to child, and stories of the infinite depth of the understory got bigger as each tree child told them. The concept of cold, hard grown was unknown to them. Solari took on a burst of speed and darted sharply upward to her and Ohitsuji's nest. Ohitsuji's hooves dug into her feathered back as she rose. Solari landed lightly in the nest of banana leaves she herself had made. It was woven tightly enough to stay put, but flexible enough to stretch and still be comfortable for the occupant. It was a large nest, large enough to fit a hollowheart if he or she so chose. Solari made the nest as a platform for she and her little friend to play on, for it was wider than any branch and sturdier than any canopy of leaves.

Ohitsuji jumped down from her back to sniff at a fallen primary feather. He ran in circles around the perimeter of the nest and settled in the middle. "Solari, let's play! Play stories," Ohitsuji giggled and leaned forward. "Tell more about biolune Choopa that lived under." He snuggled into the house of fronds, eyes wide, filled with anticipation.

Solari smiled and curled up in front of Ohitsuji. "Well, where shall I start? From the beginning, or where we left off?" She chuckled at his response, he always wanted to hear that one part about the brave tali who was eaten alive by the hungry Biolune Choopa, king of the Under as the tree children called it. She began her tale, and became so enthralled with it that she stood and acted the parts, making Ohitsuji so excited he started jumping up and down and squalling so loudly she had to stop and shush him.

[Feint]

Ohitsuji woke the next morning with streaks of filtered sun in his eyes. He didn't remember falling asleep, or even how Solari ended her story. He rolled over onto his side to look at her. She was a few feet away, fast asleep and breathing softly. Ohitsuji suppressed a giggle and rolled onto his feet. She couldn't chaperon him, now. The young choopa leapt off the leafy nest to a thick vine maybe ten feet above him, and about ten feet away from the nest. The vine swung slowly with the force of the jump. Ohitsuji swung with it to keep balance until the apex of the swing, then leapt again--into empty air. He fell, further and further, hooves stretched out in front of him like a cat before it lands. His heart beat faster, adrenaline cooking through his tiny body until he began to fear a mistake. It knocked the wind right out of him. Hooves clawed the tough bark, flailing for a grip, anywhere. He'd jumped too short and missed the right branch, but luckily there was a branch much lower than the first that was in his path. Unfortunately, since it was lower, he'd hit it much harder. Ohitsuji lay listlessly on the shredded tree bark, wheezing and half squished.

He carefully pulled himself to his feet and looked up. The distance he'd fallen was dizzying, the nest seemed the size of a Frisbee. He knew, somewhere up there, Solari was dreaming he was gone. I wonder if she'll be very angry when she wake and find it true, Ohitsuji thought to himself. He pushed the thought aside. I'm already down here with no way up. She'll forgive me. He looked around. There were less branches around him. In a few more feet, there would be nothing for him to land on again if he fell. The branch he was on wasn't as wide as the one he originally wanted. He sighed. His slingshot was on the first branch, his favorite toy and weapon. I want. He peered over the edge of the branch. The trunk shot strait down. Oh. He pressed his hoof into the trunk to see if it was soft enough, which it wasn't. Not quite. He kicked it hard, and it stuck. He yanked his foreleg out of the tree and swung himself over the branch, lying on his stomach, feet dangling into nothing. He kicked the tree to make a foothold and wriggled a bit further down. He kicked another hold for his other foot, and another two for his front hooves. Ohitsuji took a deep breath. He was now completely off the branch, completely dependent on the sturdiness of this tree's trunk. It took a lot of courage to make the next set of footholds. The understory was the haunted house, and Ohitsuji was the daring child that walked in.

[Feint]

The air was filled with less noise as he descended, but no less populated. Ants scurried up and down the bark and over his hooves, making him squeak, carting different objects like the merchants of the insect world: bark, leaves, aphids, dead bugs, even much smaller ants. Ohitsuji stopped every few minutes to watch these odd merchants scamper by. They paused only here and there to tap antennae with an unfamiliar individual or to trade loads. A merchant carrying a small brown ant traded his captive for a translucent larvae. The merchant it had traded with promptly sold his new captive for a large section of dead fly. On and on the insect trading went, until Ohitsuji could no longer count the times that poor brown slave ant changed hands. Ohitsuji felt pity for the little thing and tried to free it, but it was captured again. He was about to squish the line of black ants when he felt something cool brush his tail. He looked down, and a great tingly thrill spread through each and every cell in his body. He had reached the top branches of the infamous understory. He was shaking so badly with excitement that he nearly let go, but his hooves and the tree held strong. He scrambled down under the treetops to find---he could see,  and quite clearly. He blinked. It was darker, for sure, but nothing like the stories he'd been told by Solari. In fact, it was hardly different at all. "Solari? I can see. . ." his small voice trailed off when he remembered she wasn't there, and would probably never find him. The bark was too chewed up for him to climb, and he couldn't call her if she was that far away, she would never hear him, and never think to check the mysterious understory. A native jaguar stared at him in surprise as she paced her territory for the second time that day. Ohitsuji saw she had the same look on her face as Solari always did when confronted, one that said you were shy of strangers and didn't like conflict. Her tail twitched as she watched the little choopa cry, she had never seen a flower quite like him before, what kind of plant grew those? There were no vines that she could see, and such curious noises! She went on her merry way. Ohitsuji had burst into tears of homesickness, he'd been gone all of half an hour and missed his nestmate horribly at such a likeness. He wailed and clutched the tree closer, rubbing his tears onto its bark on occasion. He tried to call her name through his tears but couldn't quite say it. He didn't have to listen to know it wasn't loud enough for her to hear. His sobs died down eventually, and he clung to the tree loosely, sniffing, and generally tired.

[Feint]

Solari was running back and forth on her nest of leaves frantically, peering over the edge on all sides. She'd waken while the vine was still swinging, and guessed Ohitsuji had fallen off while playing in the upper branches of the tree. Her breath came quick and short, too shallow with too little oxygen for her to actually fly down and look for him. Horrid visions of her friend splattered to bits on a far branch flicked behind her eyes like a slide show that made her all the more frantic. One could say her maternal instinct was flashing red warning lights and sirens. She took a second to control her breathing so she could fly; on her third try, she made it. She glided roughly, falling faster than she could maneuver, and she ran into a few things before she got her head on strait. She flew more or less strait down, swooping level and calling his name whenever she passed a branch.

It was some time later that she found his slingshot, and stopped to rest there. She tucked his toy into her back feathers and tried to catch her breath. Looking around, she realized there were less branches here. She was shocked.

Realize this, dear reader, that she was still young, and had never left the canopy layer in all of her life. The thought of a smooth, flat trunk was foreign to her, much less the roots of one. The world from her perspective was leaves above, leaves below, and strong branches all around. The thought that the branches actually ended was a revolutionary thought, like the day you were told there was no Santa Claus.

Solari was breathless. She was looking strait down. The branches, indeed, ended. Her head was spinning, her legs wobbled weakly, and she probably would have fallen if it weren't for her sharp eyes. She could see, about fifty feet away, scratch marks on one of the last branches. She glided out and spiraled downward, landing softly as she always did. A sob escaped her. The hoof marks were plain. Ohitsuji had fallen, scratching at this branch in an attempt to save himself. He'd missed and continued downward, falling forever into nothingness. She shivered in shock, that her only friend, only brother, was gone.

A single brown ant climbed onto her talon. Solari looked at it numbly. The ant hesitated, thrown for a loop. It had stumbled onto unfamiliar territory, nothing like the tree bark it had just climbed off of. This was black, and shiny. The ant took a step and slid. It merely climbed back on. It slid again, and climbed back on again, utterly confused. Solari felt a pang of pity and gently placed it onto the familiar tree bark. The ant flailed when in the air, and scurried in frantic circles when it touched the ground. The ant ran so fast it lost its step and fell, only to be caught by an adventurous merchant ant. It held the struggling captive, curious at how it had suddenly developed the ability to fly. It promptly turned and headed back down the trunk to its fellows, hoping to get something good for a flying ant. Solari was confused. Why was it going down the trunk? There was nothing there. She lit off the branch into the air, spiraling quickly downwards, her mind not yet recovered from numb shock. She missed the trading spot completely and continued to descend, lower and lower, through a wide break in the border of the understory, and continued to descend.

[Feint]

Ohitsuji looked over his shoulder. There were strong branches just a bit further down. He tugged hard at a front hoof, but it was stuck tight. He yanked hard, and wrenched his hoof free in a cloud of splinters. All of ten minutes later, a freed Ohitsuji landed lightly on a gnarled branch strung loosely with vines. He looked down over the side at countless branches, leaves, vines, bulbous pitchers on the ends of those vines, and an unknown frondy plant. His brow furrowed at the strange plants, none of which he'd seen before in this variety. The bulbs were nearer, so he jumped over to one and examined it from all sides. The flower, if you could call it such a thing, was about the size of one of his hooves, but hanging above his head too high for him to peer into. The flower was cup-shaped and had a lid just over the brim, tipped up with just enough room for a large insect to fit in. "Bug home?" Ohitsuji called, to no response. He walked closer and sniffed the waxy surface. The funny smell made his nose crinkle and he jumped back. He stood on two legs, neck stretched out and craning to snatch a peek at the contents of the plant. He was too small, and plopped down with a sigh. A dull drone caught his attention, and he quickly looked toward the flower. The large dragonfly buzzed around his head twice before landing on the rim of the bulbous flower. Ohitsuji hurriedly backed up to a distance where he could just see the brim of the flower. The dragonfly stepped forward for the nectar--and fell in. A dull buzz ended in frenzied splashing. Ohitsuji's eyes went wide, and he charged the plant, clawing it down with his sharp hooves, kicking at the vine until it snapped and the flower crashed, spilling fiery nectar all along the left side of his back and face. His whole body erupted into searing pain. He collapsed and rolled, screaming. The plant's nectar was acid. The poor choopa ground his aching skin into the branch of the tree until the pain subsided into a dull throb, huge patches of his scales white and dry. Slowly he looked over to the fallen bulb. It was hollow and filled with quite a few dead insects, the dragonfly among them. "Hurt," he whined, and made to rise without moving his left side. He was having a bit of difficulty in doing so, and slid closer to the edge of the branch at each attempt.

[Feint]

Ohitsuji's hind legs dangled into space. He struggled harder, and slid further. He could feel the smooth bark scrape against his raw skin underneath the burned scales, and it sent sears of agony up the length of his side. When he could take it no longer, he moved his left leg against the wood and pulled himself to his stomach, then dragged his hind legs forward. He then crawled to the trunk and cried, the experience feeling just as great as having someone rub sandpaper against a skin graft. The poor choopa--great patches on his face, back, and ribs were white and flaky, and decent-sized pink patches of open skin shone through them. Small trickles of blood rolled down his ribcage and leg. He limped to a wider branch where he could lie down and attempted to settle through his tears.

He sniffled. His side didn't feel any better, but it didn't feel any worse either. It was nearing dusk, and the daytime sounds were starting to dull above him. Nocturnal birds and some early bats were beginning to send out tentative chirps from their dark hiding places. Daytime hawks and monkeys were slowly moving back to their nests and quieting down. Butterflies either moved on or collected in huge groups under large banana tree leaves. Ohitsuji stayed on his branch and sniffed. His lip was trembling, and tears were just starting to well up in his eyes. He thought the understory would be fun--pitch blackness, shadowy and elusive tribespeople that had glowing markings all over their bodies, and maybe even the Choopa king Solari had told him about. All he got was a horrible burn and an awful lot of homesickness. It wasn't even pitch dark there. He took one look back upwards and bawled.

Solari had just noticed she couldn't see very well when she heard the cries. It made her heart jump with fear, as if someone had popped a balloon in her ear. When she recognized the voice, her heart jumped
again--this time from joy. She whooped in the manner of storks and pumped her wings to meet her little friend, half crying in happiness. Solari swooped around tree trunks and vines until she saw Ohitsuji, then ducked high in the branches to dive-tackle him. Just as she was beginning to plummet, she saw his burns and quickly braked. She landed on the branch and was on him in a second, babbling nonstop and worrying over him like a mother. She ignored his whimpery story (she couldn't understand him anyway) and gently rubbed leaf sap onto his side. The sap formed a sort of glue that sealed out infection and dirt, but it didn't clean away whatever germs had already landed. Ohitsuji clambered slowly onto her back and she swept him away from there, back toward the nest and home.

[Feint]

Solari pulled away the thin bark bandages from Ohitsuji's side. It was about a week from when she had saved Ohitsuji from the undercanopy, and the scales had grown back almost completely. He was healing fast. Solari smiled and nodded and pulled the rest of them off. She began stripping a young branch she herself had cut for the purpose. She took care not to damage the center of the branch--it made a good switch for when her "little brother" misbehaved. Solari quickly bent and pressed the wet bark to the wounded skin before it dried and became useless. She wrapped the bark around his whole body; she didn't want it to fall off again. When she was done, she started another set for his leg. She whistled softly to herself as she worked, playing the nurse again.

Ohitsuji sighed. His legs were tingly from sitting still for so long. He wanted to stretch his unwounded legs, sit half up, say some jokes, something. He sighed again more heavily and Solari sent him a warning glance. His side had stopped hurting for some time, and Ohitsuji couldn't see why he couldn't just run uncovered. "But my leg all heal!" he'd protested a day earlier, "My side all heal too! I don't need tree bark. I'm fine! I'm fine, see, I'm fine!"

But Solari had been firm. "Your leg and side are not all healed," she'd scolded him angrily, "You have to wear these bandages until your skin and scales can hold back infection. You have no skin at all right here, and here too. Don't tell me that, and stop squirming!"

Ohitsuji caught himself just as he was about to sigh again. He could remember the understory's canopy, and how alluring it was, veiled in darkness. He just had a phase, a phase of childlike loneliness. Once he was back, he would never leave again. He smiled, imagining jumping through those branches, so fast he was flying through the trees. . .

"Wake up, you," Solari said, prodding Ohitsuji with a talon. He groaned and stretched carefully, while Solari clicked her tongue at him. "It's broad daylight, you shouldn't be dreaming. Stay in the present, please," she scolded.

Ohitsuji stuck his tongue out at her and playfully jumped out of the nest onto a branch below.