Artio's Adventure

Artio had always felt like an outsider. Her mother and two sisters already passed the test. Mother, Erui as she was known among the glade’s townsmen, was not only her mother, but mother Earth. Branwen, the eldest of all the sisters, was wisdom encompassed into the body of one. And Blodeuwedd was already the most beautiful child even before she was determined to be the beauty of flowers. Yet Artio could spend hours with animals of the wild. Blodeuwedd always complained about her various pets that would sneak out of their boxes and Branwen would examine them with her. Most of them were poisonous but Artio loved them all the same. She was the trouble maker, always ignoring her mother’s insistence of ‘never venture.’ To her, the woods were more home-like than the mud-home created centuries ago.

She didn’t like the townsmen much, either. Many of them would avert their eyes or drop down and start praying for them not to kill. Artio sat on the back of the wagon at the age of twelve, her golden hair braided to one side. In the soft pink, flower-stained dress Blodeuwedd had created for her, she could pass for fourteen years of age. She fiddled with her fingers, scrubbed to the next layer of skin, feeling numb to her. Her mother smiled tiredly, confusing Artio with her earlier outburst. Branwen’s green eyes circulated the townspeople. She wore her gray robes that she fashioned much too carelessly, as it was already ripping at the seams. Blodeuwedd wore her own blue dress, matching her blue eyes perfectly. Artio looked to her own reflection and sighed sadly. She would never be as beautiful as the other members of her family.

“Nervous?” Branwen asked, shifting in her position. Artio nodded. Third times the charm, she thought bitterly.

The druids were simply clothed in mud-colored robes. The eldest of the three, tilted Artio’s head to cover her eyes. In front of her were the traditional items to weave into. One represented the stars, another the flowers, and the other a cup of water. This part was easy for her.

“We shall find your spirit, shall we not?” The old druid asked. She gulped then nodded. He led her blindfolded to the table. She waited as the druids all gasped. She knew it would be the flowers and was proven when the blindfold was taken off. This next step was the part where she usually could do nothing.

This year, there were four choices. She lifted an eye brow. As if reading her mind, the eldest druid cleared his throat. “In the past, there have only been three choices… We have added a fourth considering your sister’s eagerness for you to discover your power.”

She glanced back at Blodeuwedd and Branwen, a small smile on her lips now. This year will be different. He pulled back the first sheet on the table. A flower. Her smile faltered. Still, he encouraged her to drift her hand over the plant. As always, it just lay there. The next was a twig. She never understood why a broken twig would be useful, but she still followed in suit. The next was an ant. He appeared frantic as she spun her hands over him. The last one was rectangular. She bit her lip as they revealed a bird with a broken wing. His frantic movements ceased when he set eyes on her. Immediately, she freed him from the cage, rubbing his wing counter-clockwise. Artio closed her eyes, whispering to the little thing. She felt it flutter from her hand before she released it. When she turned back, the druid was already speaking to her mother who did not look pleased.

Branwen, Blodeuwedd and Artio were sitting outside during an early spring day. Artio was only six. Branwen read, ignoring her two younger sisters. Blodeuwedd was playing with the weeds that grew as Artio danced in her white dress, her wheat blonde hair flashing in the sun. Feeling inspired by her sister’s free spirit, Blodeuwedd threaded a crown of flowers from her twig wreath, watching the small girl enchant herself with the world around, her deep green eyes focused on the woods.

When the crown was finished, Artio curtsied as though she were at her own crowning. The snake she had been carrying at this festival slithered up her arm, resting its head on her shoulder. Blodeuwedd screamed as Branwen rolled her eyes. Artio knew the lecture that was seething inside, but she did not care — her other hand stroking its head without the slightest knowledge of its poison. Branwen ordered the snake away. Glumly, the girl did so, giving it a kiss before releasing it home.

They knew even then, she thought. The crown she had at that age rested on her small dresser. Her mother, she knew, figured this was the worst gift bestowed on one of her children. With one swift movement, Artio pulled the crown over her head and slipped out the window. For the benefit of any watching, she seemed to be taking a stroll until she came across the wide entrance way of the forest. She stood at its threshold, taking a chance to glance back. Blodeuwedd was on the other edge of the field, gathering the flowers that grew next to the river. The rain began as Blodeuwedd let out a shriek. Artio ran into the forest, hiding behind a tree. She waited. Half an hour passed until she heard the familiar calls of her family.

“Artio, come here!” Her mother demanded. She clutched her necklace, hoping her heartbeat wouldn’t be audible. From further away, she could hear Blodeuwedd and Branwen calling her. Her mother was the closest. She stood at the entrance. For a moment, she was sure her mother knew exactly where she was. With a huff, she turned from the entrance. “Blodeuwedd, Branwen, let her go. If she wishes to explore her power, let her.”

They walked toward the house. Artio allowed herself a moment of appreciation of the place. The river flowed toward the glade, given a small path by banks of greenery. The dying trees rooted into the ground grew bigger around her. She smiled and carried on her path.

Along the way, Artio had become a fascination and a leader to much of the wildlife — especially the predators. However, they were not hunting her as they were following her. The wolves surrounded her as she made her way along the river. The small rabbits that crossed her way would jump in her path. She petted them, healed the birds that crossed her journey. Several days of her freedom had passed her and she had adapted to the nocturnal way. The moon seemed bigger in the forest than on the glade, though the trees were in her way. As she came into clearings, it would shine clearly through the trees, greeting her as her cousin Arianrhod would have. She extended her palm to the moon each night in friendship as she passed many of the bushes and trees surrounding her path.

On her nineteenth night of freedom, Artio came to a halt. The ocean was described to her various times but this was the first time she had seen it. The moon was beginning to set into the horizon. Still, it illuminated a streak of the navy-blue abyss, the white foams of the sea touching her toes. Artio smiled and closed her eyes. It was only for a moment but a moment too late. She heard her wolves howling in pain.

Wishing the sea and moon well, she ran blindly into the forest, calling for her wolves. Her rabbits had scattered. Her deer were nowhere to be seen. Artio called and called, asking the birds for help. None was to be found. The path was unfamiliar to her now as the trees had begun their preparation for winter. After searching for days, Artio collapsed into the seemingly colorless leaves, desperation, sadness, and anger leaving her as the tears became slumber. Her hand outstretched to the moon, clasping the necklace to the shining wheel.

Artio had no idea how long she slept. The trees seemed to have abandoned her. She wished for Blodeuwedd to return to her now that she was exposed. Sounds unfamiliar to her were near. She sat up, not bothering to take the leaves out of her hair. Some of the wolves had returned to her. The rabbits were now wary of her presence. She stroked her favorite’s thick hair as they guided her. Past the forest where the glade once was now stood a bridge. She looked down, unfamiliar colors whizzing past. Lines disciplined the columns of these noisy, big contraptions. On either side and in the horizon where her trusty moon once lay were now big, brick buildings. Artio covered her ears and ran. Ran down the stairs of the bridge, ran through the door, ran down another set of stairs. The unfamiliar sounds horrified her. Her world had changed…but into what? She did not know. Even here, where there were no people, a confusing, thick yellow line outlined the edge of a couple, parallel metal ones. They seemed to go into the tunnels on either end. She was mortified and yet glad to be alone.

After many months of searching, Artio managed to find another forest. Her trusty wolves had abandoned her long ago. Through this thin forest was a white house. On the other end was a girl, about the same height as Blodeuwedd. She wore jeans and a t-shirt. Her arms were crossed over her chest, staring at Artio. Artio ran toward the house.

“Blodeuwedd, what is this?” She asked, her cheeks tear-stained. Her sister smiled and hugged Artio.

“The twenty-first century. Come now, Artio. Mother’s been worried sick since our resurrection.”