The Gallan Wilds were too loud.
Too pink. Too green. Too blue.
I thought I would be happy, finally making it here after a two-week journey, but what I didn't expect was the utter assault on my poor, beautiful eyes.
It was my first time seeing what humans called an of ū syenyo ōmp, a forest that could rival what I believed Eden looked like before the mortals betrayed God.
Hyacinths, Lilies, Daffodils, Hydrangeas, and all the rest of the world's best gifts sprawled across rugged terrain in sizes big and small. Sunlight filtered through the canopies, casting dapples of gold onto their petals.
I eyed one of the Tall Leaf Trees. The rotting Fade Laurels hung heavy from their branches, offering a drunken relief from the summer heat. The children of Brittleacre told me about the purple fruit and how they rot in the blink of an eye.
Catch one in perfect condition, they said, and it could fetch a lot of Rono.
And I am, unfortunately, in desperate need of Rono.
I blew my last coin on this stupid backpack after a big-headed Wing-Gallcat stole the other. I had to replace everything inside—my clothes, skillet, shoes, and, of course, the brand-new dress I’d just bought. I swear, if I see that fucker again, I’ll end him with my bare hands.
A gaggle of birds squawked overhead, causing my head to tilt and spot a Fade Laurel, growing right before my eyes. It was as large as an orange, a dark shade of plum, and leaned against the bark. I licked my lips, stepping back to consider how I could scale the tree as much as I love a good amount of Rono; I'm not a fan of breaking my leg, especially during the day.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a kaleidoscope of honey butterflies, each as big as a hand.
Shit.
I crouched low, stepping lightly around the tree’s massive base to hide my body.
Those must be the Pyonts the elder from Brittleacre warned me about. She told me to avoid the butterflies at all costs. Well, can't say I didn't try.
I held my breath.
Please don't see me. Please go away. Roam around, dont—
One of the butterflies ventured near me, causing me to sink to the floor. I could see that it had the face of a pale, pudgy man with dark, beady eyes. I watched as it swayed near the flowers and opened its mouth. A tangle of pink tongues slithered out to drink the nectar.
Disgusting.
I shuffled to the left, still pressed down until a twig snapped under my foot, the sound echoing into the distance. Panic set into my heart as I moved away from the tree, twisting my body and bolting. I didnt care where I was running to; I had to get away.
Ethereal voices of a woman followed behind me, singing the words;
“Come here, O Child of Mine,
Touch thine wings, oh so fine.
In dreams, you’ll softly creep.
To realms where shadows steep.”
A branch from a bush snagged onto the end of my skirt, sending me to my face. I scrambled to my feet, only to find myself surrounded by Pyonts, their bodies emitting the smell of molasses.
“Flutter, flutter, soft and light,
Through the veil of darkest night.
Whisper secrets, hushed and deep,
As you drift into slumber’s keep.”
My eyes wavered for a moment, but I shook my head violently. So that's why the Elder told me to avoid them.
Bastardly things aren't they?
I reached for my lower back, where the poignard dagger rested, and unsheathed it.
One lunged towards my face, and I swung the dagger up in a short, ugly arc, catching the wing. The Pyont exploded into glittering dust that smelled faintly of old perfume. A haunting melody rose from the swarm, their wings beating in rhythm. With each screech, more Pyonts joined.
Several more dove towards me, but each one was met with strikes, their bodies fizzing at my feet.
I held my pose, ready for more to come forth, but the earth shook beneath my feet. Dozens of black birds swarmed above my head in a frenzy, taking the Pyonts with them.
Mice scattered across my feet, following the birds and leaving the forest quiet. I sheathed my dagger and braced for what was to come.
Thunderous roars filled the air and shook my very core. My eyes shot up to see a flock of Bloodbirds overhead, their monstrous forms gliding between the trees. Carnage slipped from their meaty frames, igniting the land below in a flare.
Fuck. Me.

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