CHAPTER 4
"What business do you have in this cave?" Count asked, light from the flames giving his face an ominous look.
"We..." Mythical wasn't sure whether or not to tell him about the gold. He had a badge, making her believe that he was Gofnak, so if he knew that gold had been found... would he just tell the other Gofnak members and would they make the orphans work harder?
"Speak!" Count ordered, his voice echoing around the cave. "And don't give me any nonsense. I'll use this dagger if I have to," he said, a bit more quietly. His paw rested on the hilt of his topaz dagger.
"We work at a Gofnak camp," Sparkle said, surprising Mythical with her boldness. Normally Mythical was the brave one, not poor, cowardly Sparkle. "And we were just digging in the snow, like we normally do, and we found a chest of gold."
Count's eyes grew dark. "This gold you speak of... tell me more about it."
Mythical's heart pounded. "There's not much to tell. It's gold." she shot back, shocking herself at how stupid she was being. What are you doing, Mythical? she yelled at herself in her mind. Look at you--angering a possible Gofnak leader with a weapon!
Count gave her a withering look. "You shall not speak to me that way, Mythical," he said angrily. "The reason I am so interested in this gold of yours, is that I seek to destroy Jamaa with it."
"What!!?!?" Mythical and Sparkle shrieked at the same time. "Destroy Jamaa? Are you insane?"
"I must be," Count said. For the first time, Mythical heard a hint of fear in his voice. "But it is not my own idea. It is one created by none other than Mira herself."
"Mira?" Mythical asked, incredulous. "But Mira is dead!"
"She spoke to me in a dream I had a few nights ago," Count said, gazing into the fiery flames.
"What did she say to you?" Sparkle questioned, leaning in towards the fire in interest.
COUNT'S DREAM
I woke in my dream at the center of a petunia bed. I had never seen flowers before--all beautiful forms of nature had been banished from the world of Jamaa, from flowers to cherry blossom trees. But around me, I saw trees of bursting pink blossoms, white and blue flowers, indigo mushrooms and lush, green shrubs beside thin, twirling vines. It was as though I were stepping into a past Jamaa--one without all the horrors and sadness that existed now.
I stepped out of the petunia bed, careful not to step on any of the beautiful petals or crumple any of the young buds. After glancing around the space I was in with much awe, I noticed a tunnel underground leading to another room. I scurried towards it, and burrowed through the tunnel until I reached the room.
The room was like a greenhouse, with it's thick, fluffy shrubs, bright yellow daffodils, and purple flowers. I reached out to touch one of the delicate white petals of a dahlia. It felt velvety in my paw, and I caressed the thin veins of it's leaves, loving how it playfully tickled my fur as a soft wind brushed by.
Once I had admired each and every flower in the beds of plants, I realized that there was yet another tunnel leading to a different room. I also noticed that there was a pathway of daisies laid out on the floor of the mud-covered tunnel, so I wouldn't have to get my paws dirty. I carefully stepped onto each of the daisies, enjoying the lovely feeling of the fuzzy centers of the daises touching my paws.
When I entered the next room, I saw that yet another bed of petunias was at the center of the room. A vine wrapped around one of the walls was connecting blue and white daisies together to form a beautiful piece of art, and next to it was a pot of full, bright roses in what seemed like thousands of colors. But what caught my eye the most was the group of butterflies sipping nectar from some flowers on the wall. Such delicate, beautiful creatures, that I had the misfortune of never seeing before in my life--thanks to those horrid Gofnak leaders and their ridiculous banishing of all forms of nature that didn't have the strength to hold a shovel to dig for gold.
Heading down another tunnel, I entered the largest space of the three I had seen so far. In a corner, a grove of cherry blossom trees and lush, green-leaved evergreens hugged the wall, their branches swaying slightly with every gentle gust of wind. Behind me were two lampposts, each one with blossoming pink flowers embedded along the twisting green plant winding itself around the lamppost. These lamps were so unlike the gloomy cement lampposts stationed like prison guards every ten feet on the deserted and dark streets of Jamaa Township. But in the center of the space was a towering ice statue of the blue heron, Mira. I had seen Mira depicted in banners and paintings briefly when I was a child, but any piece of art in Jamaa had long since been destroyed when the Gofnak took over. Her beauty was so much greater than even the best and most skilled artists would have ever been able to capture with simple paints and brushes.
"M-Mira?" I asked, my voice trembling.
I hadn't expected a response--after all, the great heron was trapped in ice. But I heard a low, soothing voice emit from Mira's beak.
"You are a caring, kind and loving fox," she told me. I personally didn't think I was anywhere near "loving", but I listened anyway.
"It breaks my heart to bind you to this great and dangerous task. But it must be executed by someone with the deepest of hearts and the kindest of souls," Mira continued. I had no idea what she was talking about. What was this "task" she spoke of? How was it dangerous?
"You must seek to destroy the glimmering beauty, to take in the helpless, and to help those who may not help themselves," the heron said, her voice smooth. I wished she would quit speaking with those nowhere-near-understandable sentences.
"Mira, I don't understand," I said. "What are you asking me to do?"
"To destroy Jamaa, my young Count. But remember--your heart is what really leads you, not anybody or anything else. Whatever you feel is right must be done."
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To be continued... XD Hope you enjoyed! ^.^
-Panda
