The evening was becoming smoggy as usual. A dying pale crimson light glazed the horizon in the west brimming with the birds flying back to their homes after a long day’s flight.
Evenings always haunted her with a sense of nostalgia. She took a deep breath and got off Altair. The breeze had picked up, and the withering pale leaves were being pitilessly shoved around on the ground as she walked ahead holding Altair’s bridle. He followed as she made way through the tall conifers that hailed over her in their lazy stagnancy. Princess Minya Loved having these walks with Altair on the old trail through the conifer Jungle.
It was a small jungle, more like a cluster of conifer trees. They called them “The Rustling Conifers”. It was not far from the castle, and Princess Minya used to come here with her mother when she was young. She enjoyed walking about besides Queen Ormelia with an innocence and glee of a young child. She loved nature. Those conifers were her companion since childhood.
She let go of Altair as she approached her favorite old conifer. Altair slowed down and casually walked away from her grazing through the dry wild grass. She reached the old conifer and patted on its bark.
“How are you old Woodlark?” she inquired with a smile as she sat in its roots. “WoodLark” was what she had named it. It seemed more alive to her to not have a name. She remembered her mother laughing when she had told her about the name.
“But it’s a tree Minya” Queen had said to her.
“Why can’t trees have names mother?” she had asked with her curious grey eyes.
“It is my tree, and I want to name it Woodlark.” she had said firmly with a childish stubbornness.
She remembered her mother smiling affectionately as she nodded her head in agreement with Minya. The vision was still as clear as today in her mind. Even after Queen Ormelia had died, Minya kept coming to the Conifers. She remembered how she missed her mother as she sat by Woodlark and cried with silent tears.
She still sometimes imagined Queen Ormelia and herself walking through the Conifers. She would hold her mother’s hand and listened to her as the queen talked to her. They would sit under the shade of “WoodLark”. Her mother used to tell her stories about good and evil. Strong princes fighting the forces of darkness and bringing justice and peace to the people in their kingdom. Those stories always fascinated Minya. The tales of how bad had to surrender to the good no matter how strong it seemed. She learnt lessons of how bravery, honesty and courage stood firm in the face of death, deceit and darkness; and conquered it. And now it was just her and the rustling “WoodLark”. Like a silent companion it had been by her side. It had seen ages pass by. It was said that these conifers were over a thousand years old. Passing times had left their mark on Woodlark, but it stood tall and firm still. These conifers had taken her in. They gave her the peace that kept her alive and going in the darkest of days. They were an important part of her life. Most important part if one was to argue.
She loved talking to Woodlark about random things even if in return all she heard was the faint rustling of the leaves.
Pale, orange, dying leaves.
The only season Soberheim had seen, for many years, was Fall. All the trees in the kingdom had orange, pale dying leaves. Minya remembered they were all blooming trees once with green leaves and the spring breeze bustling through them. It had all changed though right after the day her mother died. It was as if the land was dying after Queen Ormelia. The grass had turned brown and lifeless. Even the new leaves that came out on the branches were fall stained. It rained hard that evening when her mother’s funeral was being held. The white knights carried her coffin as they took the queen for burial. Her final resting place praying out loud. People of Soberheim were truly sad that day. They had won the “war of the fallen”, but their queen’s life had been the cost of that victory.
She was too young to understand why her mother had to suffer that fate. She had left the funeral procession and quietly snuck out to the conifers. She wrapped her arms around woodlark and wept. A pale leaf had come down and rested beside her followed by many other. The trees, it seemed, were mourning for her loss too in their own way. She wept and wept as the rain fell from the sky. By the time darkness prevailed over the Soberheim, the ground had been covered with the crisp rotten leaves. Conifers, barely, had any leaves left on them. Eventually, the steel soldiers had come looking for her. She had been missing from the castle and the searching soldiers found her there alone in the night hugging a tree.
Since that day she had come here every day to sit with Woodlark; her only friend in this whole wide world.
It was getting dark. She looked for Altair and found him strolling around by the patches of the dry grass.
She grabbed his bridle and slowly walked down the hill towards the castle as the crimson light faded away.
