Return of Spring Chapter 1: The Shepherd
āNowā¦ where in the world have you gone?ā
Rosalind turned around, looking for her lamb, Baby. He had wandered away from the herd, away from the village and the pen and into the forest. Despite being a Forest Elf, Rosalind was never particularly fond of it. Itās dark, dreary, and with the eternal Winter going on, itās less than hospitable. Scratch that, itās downright hostile. The village elders hadnāt predicted a blizzard until at least two weeks from now, but clearly Mother Nature, or well, the Winter Queen, had a different idea. It was getting late, and it was getting dark, fast. All she needed was to find her sheep, and get the hell out of there.Ā
That gave her pause. It sounded like someone was trekking through the snow? Or stepping on a branch? Hard to tell with the wind whirling around her. Then she heard it: the lamb crying out.
āOh starsāIām coming! Stay where you are!ā She shouted out.
The lamb bleated back to her, clearly having heard her. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, hoping to stave off the cold as long as possible. She followed the sound further and further into the forest, with the snow falling down heavier and heavier as she went.Ā
āBaby, where are you?ā Rosalind called out.
The lamb bleated in response, much closer than before. She wove her way through the underbrush, grumbling and swearing every time her skirt got snagged in some brambles. The bleating got louder, and Rosalind doubled her efforts to find him.
āOh thank the stars!ā Rosalind sighed in relief, finally laying eyes on the lost member of her flock.
The lamb bleated in distress, being tangled up in some long dried and frostbitten bushes.
āThere, there, youāre safe now,ā she cooed, untangling her lamb, setting him over her shoulders.
She turned around, preparing to go back-
ā...Where the hell am I?ā
Okay, so maybe aimlessly wandering around wasnāt the best idea, as she is now completely lost. The blizzard made it impossible to see even a few steps in front of her, and the wind was throwing her off balance.
āWell, better start walking,ā she thought.
She started walking the way she came, or at least the way she thinks she came. She wind rushed past her, completely obscuring any other sounds. She pulled her hood tighter over her head, trying to keep the snow out of her eyes. She shifted the lamb off her shoulders, instead opting to carry him in her arm under her cloak. The snow was starting to pile up, and she had to stab her crook into the ground, making sure she was still stepping on solid ground, and not a tiger hareās burrow or something.Ā
The more she walked, the less sure she knew where she was going. Her eyelids were growing heavy, her steps sluggish, and her fingers numb. All of a sudden, the lamb bleated loudly, calling her attention.
āWhatās wrong, Baby?ā Rosalind asked him, before following his line of sight.
Now, Rosalind has seen many odd things in the forest: a Pixie fight, the Grim Reaper taking the soul of a deceased venadiel, and a gnome wearing polka-dot pants, but she hasnāt ever seen the mausoleum standing in front of her. She would know of any structure in the woods, seeing as how she lives so close to it, but she didnāt know of this. The stained glass windows were broken, and the structure was crumbling, clearly itās been there for a while.
āWell, the storm isnāt letting up anytime soon,ā Rosalind sighs.
She steps into the stone structure, relieved to finally be out of the blizzard. But as she looked ahead, she saw the winding paths leading deeper into the building. She set her lamb down, and grabbed ahold of the lantern she brought, hanging on her hip. Praise the gods for oil lamps, as it worked like a charm.
āStay close, Baby, donāt want you getting lost,ā Rosalind commanded.
The lamb bleated in response, following behind her. She made her way through the passageways, leaning into every room they passed. Nothing too interesting, only cobwebs, dust, and snow from the broken windows. She nearly passed a room, not noticing it because she was admiring the tattered tapestries on the wall opposite of it, but when she leaned in to see what was in there, her eyes widened and her heart dropped.
In the center of the room was a glowing primrose, the first sheād ever seen, covered by a glass cloche on a short pillar. The moonlightāwhen did the clouds part enough for the moon to shine?āfiltered through the broken stained glass windows, reflecting ethereally on the flower. The room was warm, much warmer than it shouldāve been, and she felt the primrose almost calling to her.
Rosalind turned right back around, not wanting whatever was going on with the flower. She was ready to walk off and forget she ever saw it, until her little lamb had a different idea.
āHey! Stop biting! This is my nice skirt!ā Rosalind yanked at her skirt, trying to get the lamb to let go.
Unfortunately for her, the lamb did not listen. He stood his ground, keeping her from moving forward. In fact, he was trying to pull her back into the room.
āI donāt want a quest, Baby! Let me go!ā Rosalind shouted.
Stars know whatās gotten into the lamb, but he just wouldnāt budge. Rosalind rolled her eyes in annoyance. Guess she isnāt getting out of this one.
āFine! You win,ā she groaned.
She stomped back into the room, fixing the offending flower with a glare.
āAlright! What the hell do you want me to do?ā She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
She didnāt get a response. To be fair, she should have expected it, since itās, yāknow, a flower. But itās a magical flower! If it should do anything, itās talk! She stepped closer, waiting to see what would happen. After nothing did, she approached the pedestal, trying to steel her nerves. She lifted the cloche, coming face to face with the primrose. She looked back, where Baby was still waiting for her. Turning back to face the primrose, she tentatively reached her fingers out to touch it, only to get flashbanged when she made contact with it.
āAH! What the hell!?ā She tried to blink the spots out of her eyes, wanting to see what happened.
When she finally got her vision back, she saw the room was cold, dark, and most importantly, empty. The primrose was gone. She whirled around, trying to see where it went, panic building up by the second. The lamb bleated to get her attention, as during her bout of blindness he had wandered beside her. He pointed his muzzle to her left hand, the one she reached out to the primrose with. Confused, she looked at her palm. Nothing.Ā
āWell thatās weird,ā she thought, āBut I think this means I donāt have to do anything about it.ā
She turned her hand over, and froze. On the back of her hand, in the same pink as the petals of the primrose, was a swirling pattern taking the shape of the flower. It glittered in the moonlight, and she realized she felt warmer than before. Somehow, she had absorbed the flowerās magic, and it ādisappearedā because it had become one with her. She stared at it as it glowed, taking in all the details and intricacies of the symbol.
