The air was heavily perfumed with the fragrance of fruits, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Tendrils of the intoxicating scent tickled up my nose, filling my mind with a sudden, but oddly pleasing, lightheadedness. I tilted my head back and inhaled deeply through my nose, closing my eyes and succumbing to the blissful sensation of serenity. I opened my eyes again after a while, and started deeper into the cavernous forest, readjusting the canvass tote bag on my weary shoulders and brushing my curly locks out of my eyes. The aroma grew steadily stronger as I padded through the forest, sticks and leaves crunching beneath my bare feet as I leaped from rock to log to little patches of grass, careful to make my way around the crawling insects on the dirt path below me. The narrow trail was made from decades of forest animals winding their way through the glen; hooves, paws, and critters alike marking their existence into the rock of their home. I knew without hesitation that I was not meant to be here. This was the front garden to the house of the Gods. I could feel their presence there, their eyes watching and waiting. The trees whispered their voices and the branches pressed against me. I am not meant here. Yet, my feet never faltered. I was not scared.

Up ahead I heard the distinct gurgle of a young stream, bouncing and tumbling over the river rocks. Accompanying it were the melodies of the song birds that chattered somewhere ahead, always out of sight, showing but a glimmer of fluorescent color before flickering behind the shadows. I heard the resounding clickety-clack of the mallet bug's love call and the soothing buzz of the ferngliders as they lazily swam through the air. Alone, they were nothing, but together, they became a stunning and wild orchestra. Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my calloused hands, I stepped from the protection of the towering sycamore trees and out into the blazing sunlight.

The grass was softer now, and felt cool against my burning skin. The soles of my feet seemingly sighed out in relief, pleased by the sudden change from the cutting jagged rocks to the velvety carpet of lush emerald. The scenery that I was met with was astounding. I had been used to walking a more morbid road since I had began my trek from home, becoming more used to the ominous air of constant attacks than the prospect of seeing something simply and purely blissful. I smiled inwardly. I guess one of the fine things about my journey to Away is that I was bound, in the midst of all the chaos and pain, to at least find one solace to calm my spirits and refresh the vigor that had coursed so thickly through my veins at the beginning of my journey. But I digress, for right now I am meant to write down what I had seen there, heard there, and felt there. For the sake of science, they tell me. But quite honestly, nothing in my time there had been anything but supernatural.

There was, as I had assumed, a creek. It wound its way down the gentle slope, the light reflecting on its rushing surface like shards of a crystal chandelier, occasionally disrupted by the jumping fish. They made arcs of water high into the air, scales reflecting sunbeam into a hundred different fragments of color. Along the riverbed were thousands of ornate glass flowers, delicately crafted by the hands of the Gods. They ranged in color from sapphire to pearl to sea foam green and clear. Every color imaginable was sprawled out in the riverbed, and when a breeze came through, they made a striking melody with their clear tunes. It was as soothing as the sound of wind chimes in the summer heat. The bloom's thick honeyed nectar dripped off of the heavy glass petals, pooling around the stem in puddles of gleaming gold, sticky and sweet. The spiraling leaves were of a translucent green, with thin veins webbing across the surface, seemingly pulsating in the midday sun. The stalks drooped with the weight of the prodigious blossoms.

I reached my hand over tentatively and gripped the flower as I would a wine glass, the flower balancing on my whole hand, the narrow shoot between my fingers. I lifted with a jerk, and the flower was set loose with a dull clink. Cheers, I told myself, and slanted the glass towards my lips. Inside of the blossom, the world was lit with a filtered orange glow, and the nectar that swirled towards my parted mouth was amber in color. As it touched my lips, warmth spread throughout my body, and my dry throat felt immediately better. It was as smooth as water, yet it had the same effect on me as warm milk and honey, soothing my aches and providing an overall sense of well-being. I only stopped drinking the addicting fluid to take a gulp of air, and when I raised my head, I stopped, slowly set the flower down, and never thought of it again.

There, before me, stood the Bekko. I had often seen drawings of it, but had never been as fortunate as to see it with my very own eyes. Its deer like body was slimmer, and smaller. Judging by the spots on the back, I could see it was still a youth in its infinite life cycle. Like the legends, it had human hands where there were supposed to be hooves, pale white and long, and its tail was at least three times its length. Its head was also human, and when I saw it, no, her face, I felt a sudden pain in my chest. Its face was that of Nia. Dear, dear Nia whom I had left at home. Nia. I had abandoned her. Nia's long blonde hair fell in cascades of gold to the grassy floor, her rosy cheeks highlighting her high cheekbones. I had betrayed her. Her small lips parted and whispered something I couldn't hear. I had killed her.

"Nia..." I croaked. A single scarlet tear pooled and fell from her eyes. Her eyes. It wasn't a deep sea blue, as Nia's was, but darker than the deepest pits of Hell. I couldn't believe I had fallen for such a simple trick. It smiled, and its mouth gaped open again, but wider. Much, much wider. First, there was nothing. Then, like a sudden gush of wind, a flurry of birds flew out of her mouth. Gold. Gray. Checkered. Striped. Blue. All stormed out of her mouth, tangling themselves into her hair and tail, perching on her back, pecking and chittering away.

The birds were made of paper. Origami cranes, I realized. The Bekko paced over to me leisurely, and the birds bobbed along; pecking, chirping, singing. Her long neck extended towards me, and I held up a hand.

I smiled when I felt her lips brush against my palm, and shivered when I felt the long raspy tongue stroked across my hand. She cleaned my hand thoroughly, and as she did I held my breath, afraid that I might scare her away if I were to so much as shift in position. I winced and gave a sharp intake of breath when I felt her teeth strike against my flesh, drawing a thin line of blood across my hand. She retracted her head a little, lifting her head to look into mine. There was no emotion on her face, and her glassy black eyes stared into me, making me look quickly away, fearful at what she might see inside of me. Not looking away, her raspberry tongue pushed through her coral lips once more, and I watched in growing amusement as she licked a droplet of my blood from the palm of my hand. It sparkled like a cut ruby on her tongue, and rolled down into her mouth, where, with a final gleam of light, it disappeared. I was genuinely surprised. I had not thought the Bekko to be carnivorous. Then she did something curious.

She padded away from me and stooped down to lick the dripping nectar from a golden flower, and arched her head back to face the sun. With a quiet cough, an egg-like object fell from her lips, no larger than the nail of my thumb. It must have been heavy, for half of it embedded itself into the soft fertile ground.

The seed shone cardinal on the dull earth. I watched it lie there, inanimate. The Bekko stared at the ground with wide eyes and a small smile on her wicked lips. It opened its mouth, the deepest of caverns,and a silvery strand of saliva fell, like a string of spider's web glinting with morning dew.

One word. "Se."

A sudden gale blew across the land, and the surrounding blossoms clashed and collided, the screeching and shattering deafening. The clouds blotted out the sun, and thunder rolled. I crouched, digging my bare feet into the ground, nails scratching at the earth beneath me. My eyes were but slits of green as the wind tore and lashed mercilessly at me. The Bekko stood in front of me, unmoving. There was a wide grin on her face, grotesque on the innocent face. As quickly as it came, the wind ceased. The sounds of thunder were more distant than I remember. The clouds above me remained grey and fierce.

Plip.

Plip.

Plip.

At first, it was but a few; stars falling from the sky to light themselves in my grimy hair. After a moments breath, it was crashing over me in waves, and I struggled to breathe as the torrent worsened with each growing second. Everything was a blur. I looked to the earth, to protect my face with the long tangles of sandy hair plastered to my neck and back. I thought it was blood.

There was a crimson sapling, protected by my chest. It grew as I watched. The branches reached for me, and unfurled itself. A bloom erupted from the top. Something moves. It's murky and olive in color. Wires; I think. It struggles for a bit, and then starts to grasp at the flower, choking it. Killing it.

"No."

I grab the stalk of the flower and draw it back. It breaks in half with a clear sound. I scream, but my mouth is still closed.