Margo pulls the buckle of her bag and dusts off the bits of leaves from her pants when out of the corner of her eye a sudden flash of orange light streaks through the woods. The unexpectedness startles her; she instinctively whips her head in that direction. The breeze picks up, rustling the stray leaves on the road. Her eyes dart about the trees searching frantically for any reflective, shiny object to no avail.
She shrugs her bag into place and walks forth, assuming her imagination has run amuck. Or worse, that Michael is up to more trickery, and his lame attempt at consoling her had been nothing more than a ploy. She will not allow him to humiliate her twice in one day.
An image — one Margo has grown all too accustomed to over the past months — of Mrs. Hederman pops into her head, her wrinkled face contorted into something much like after having sucked a lemon, which Margo thinks coincidentally suits her personality. She picks up her pace as she is certain the vision will soon come to pass if she isn't in her work gloves by five o'clock sharp.
She skids to a halt. A second twinkle of orange light emits in the woods to her right. Planting her feet, she scrunches up her face to scrutinize the trees.
"Michael," she calls rather harshly.
But there is no answer in return. The haunting silence only leaves her searching harder until something indeed captures her attention, though it is not shiny or alight.
A path meanders through the trees, its foot meeting the road on which she stands. Quite charming and edged with cobblestone, it twists away until it disappears into the woods. To discover something new in the area is a surprise. Margo's spent her entire upbringing in St. Joseph, Tennessee, known every rock along this road, watched every tree age over the years. How can such an ancient-looking path have gone missed all this time?
Just where the path fades in the distance, Margo catches sight of yet another 'flash of light.' The excitement builds within her like a firecracker ready to pop. It isn't a light after all but a fiery animal with reflective skin walking deeper into the woods.
As quickly as it appears, the animal vanishes around the bend, leaving Margo alone and dumbfounded. She stands there for nearly half a minute, awestruck and in wonder. What kind of animal has skin that reflects light like a mirror?
Curiosity overcomes her. The dirt road slips behind as she joins the animal on the narrow trail. It is unlikely Margo will catch up with it, but it's too beautiful and rare an animal not to try. Imagine the discovery of a new creature, a new life form, a new existence.... It's well worth the slander of a Hederman.
Oddly, the woods shift from amber to green as she presses onward. How unlike September to carry such rich, lively colors. Even the soil on the path seems fresher, filling the air with the scents of sweet earth. The trees grow tighter as she walks along the unknown path. There is hardly room to squeeze through. Margo forces on, determined not to lose the flaming creature.
She comes to a halt, facing a wall comprised of thick, unified shrubbery, which ends the path and her search, as well. It is an unsatisfying conclusion, but turning back seems unavoidable until Margo lets out a small yelp. A thorny vine overhead has caught hold of her hair in its hand. She reaches to untangle the strand from the nasty vine when a faint triangular splotch of orange light catches her attention. It dances around her forearm like a prism set in a window casting its colorful rays upon a wall. As if to catch the light in her palm, she turns her hand over twice, and slowly follows the direction of the light to find a small opening in the shrubs.
Peering through the keyhole in the leaves, the orange light bouncing across her cheek, she sees it: the mystery animal. A tall, exotic bird, much like a peacock, with feathers of vibrant orange shimmering in the sunlight and the long graceful legs of a heron. Its tail drags behind it with long feathers whose tips are blue-green, and atop its head sits an emerald crown of feathers. The bird pecks its pointed beak at the ground.
All of the pieces seem to fall into place at the sight of it. Obviously, she's encountered the same bird whose stray feather she found that morning.
A twig snaps as she shifts her weight.
The bird's head soars high, its long neck curving elegantly. Its tiny head shoots in several directions until its eyes find Margo's and locks with hers. With that, the bird soars through the trees like a gazelle.
Determined not to lose it again, Margo pulls apart the vines like tissue paper and forces through, ignoring the scratching thorns against her bare arms. Without much time wasted, she catches sight of the bird not thirty feet ahead of her. Running at a rapid speed, its head bobs gracefully with every stride. The closer Margo gets to it, the more dominant its colors become. Its body is not merely orange but has hints of reds and golds, and the feathers of its tail have blues and deep purples. Like a bleeding watercolor, its vibrant colors dazzle in the light. Her heart pounds in her ears and her chest burns, but she has come too far now.
Suddenly, Margo is forced to a stop.
A narrow opening in the woods is laid before her as beautiful as a page torn from a fairy tale. Sunlight pours through the treetops in rays that dance upon vibrant green grasses. A cluster of moss-covered boulders is strewn across the area. Pops of red from mushroom caps and wildflowers add zest to the already perfect setting.
But what truly demands Margo's attention are the thousand light specks bouncing around the clearing. The grand bird stands before her proudly with its tail feathers spread. Like water upon a flame, the cool colors of its tail surround its blazing body. And to Margo's satisfaction, the peculiar bird no longer runs but waits, studying her while she studies it.
Her mouth gapes as she absorbs the beauty surrounding her. A dream would make more sense. Surely this is no reality.
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