Eight - Tarka

Grabbing my bow and arrows, I ran out the door and practically flew down the ladder connecting my hut to the ground and dashed to the outskirts of the village for my weekly escape from everyday life. I stopped at the gate. Even though I had escaped the village many times, none of us were technically allowed out of there, unless you were a Viridi leader leaving town for "important business," whatever that may have been. I looked all around me to see if there was anyone around to see me leave. Nobody. I started walking tardily out of the gate, when I heard soft crunching and squeaking behind me. I held my breath as I turned around. A Viridi salesman with a fruit cart was walking away from me, probably towards the marketplace. I released my breath; none of the common people really cared what I did. As far as they were concerned, I did not exist. And I was okay with that. However, the elders were a different story altogether. I was a troublemaker to them. Not being caught by anyone, I stepped through the barrier between me and temporary peace and freedom. 

Deciding to enjoy my stroll through the outskirts of town, I took my sweet time making my way through the Viridi jungle. About ten to fifteen minutes into the walk, I came upon the tree. OUR tree. Sighing, I climbed up the branches to a good enough height to where I wouldn't feel uncomfortable sitting or standing there for a while. Was this the branch? I sat down, my scaly legs sprawled out, my tail hanging off the edge, and my eyes closed. "So many memories," I thought. This was my real home. 

He slid down on the branch above my own head. He could tell something was wrong. "What has happened, Tarka?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're not exactly your spitfire self today."

How could I tell Damian what was happening? My mother had passed on from a severe illness; we were all grieving. I was also turning 15 in a few days, and the Viridi tradition says I have to move out and support myself after that. I hated it. My father was completely unsympathetic to my current plight, even though I was the only family he had left. I hated him even more. 

I clenched my teeth. "There's a lot that's happened."

"I heard about your mother's passing. I am very sorry. I cannot even imagine your grief." His tail bopped me on the head. I looked up at him, with a slight smile on my face. Intentional or not, everything he did made me feel better about things, at least for a little while. He gave me that smirk of his. 

"How can I help?" He climbed down beside me on my branch and looked at me with those temporarily tamed green eyes. I shook my head. "I wish I knew. Maybe you could wave your hand over me and make us both disappear from this place forever?" 

He chuckled. "I can make some magic, but not like that." He put his scaly arm around my shoulder. Chills ran through my already cold-blooded body. "Like what?"

"Well, I can make things disappear for a little while." I gave him a quizzical look. The mischief came back to his eyes, and before I could stop him, he tickled me all over. I squealed with delight, screaming for him to stop at least a dozen times, but I didn't really want him to. After five minutes, we stopped, both out of breath laughing. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I said, "I love you, Damian." He stopped laughing and looked me in the eyes; uncertainty replaced the mischief. My eyes widened. What did I just say? What have I done? I quickly stood up on the branch, grabbing a hold of the trunk with my claws trying to balance myself. "I think I have to go." 

He reached for and grabbed my wrist. "Why? I want to talk about this." My worried eyes looked down at my feet. I sat down again, my head buried in my knees. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no! I'm so glad you did. Because I feel the same way." I perked up and lifted my head. What? 'Can this be true?' my eyes asked him. "I truly do. Ever since I laid eyes on you in the marketplace. Your hair, your eyes, everything caught my attention. Spending these last few months with you have been my safe haven. YOU are my safe haven, Tarka." He took my hands in his. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but . . . I didn't know what you would think. But now I know." His smile was brighter than the sunlight peaking through the top of the jungle's trees at that moment. 

Glowing with relief and delight, I smiled back. 

My ears picked up the sound of running footsteps through the jungle beneath me. I opened my eyes and quickly stood up, turning my head just in time to see something . . . or someone . . . come racing towards the tree I was standing in. The creature slowed down to a complete stop a few feet from the tree. He looked around, probably to make sure that he was alone and then knelt down, putting his hand gently against the tree bark.

I touched my hand to my bow, crouching down on my branch, trying to keep myself hidden. "Is that what I think it is?" I thought to myself. "Surely this is not a . . . young Palkin man?" I had read about them and have seen pictures of them in books but had never seen one in person before. I stared at the creature on his knees twenty-five feet below me. Grief had overtaken him, whatever had happened to him. Surprisingly, every minute I spent gazing at this pathetic being, there was a throbbing ache that grew within my chest. It grew so much that I had to draw in a long, deep breath. I took care not to make it too loud, for fear he would hear me. 

Then, the young Palkin blubbered about something; I couldn't make out what it was he said. He then became enraged and hit the tree's trunk with his fist. He shriveled back in pain, also recognizing his anger, but then became even more angry and started thrashing around, kicking the jungle floor, tearing nearby plants to bits. Then, when his madness ended a few minutes later, grief consumed him again, and he slid down the trunk of the tree I was hiding in. With his sandy head of hair in his scrawny, long fingers, he wept. 

Another strange feeling came over me: I had the urge to help this poor soul, take him in my arms and stroke the back of his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. I shook my head, laughing inside at myself. "Why would you want to help another creature, especially a strange one like him? No one cares about you, no one needs you; even if they did, they would just manipulate you to get what they want, and then they'd leave you in the dust. Who cares about this Palkin?" 

I reasoned with myself in my head, telling myself that I was just curious. I was so curious that I ended up watching over him as the darkness of nightfall came, with the young Palkin falling asleep right under the branch I was sitting on.