At White Valley

“This place sucks. Why’d we have to come all the way out here just to watch an old man stand in a valley?”

“Hey! There’s important stuff we can learn here! People have been living and worshipping in this valley for thousands of years before us. It’s not just a ‘valley’.”

“I guess. Is that why you’re up here picking at trees instead of studying the runes on those buildings like you were supposed to?”

“…”

You sit on the ledge, feet dangling precariously over the depths of the White Valley, gazing long into the haphazard smattering of buildings that occupy the meadows and dot the riverbanks. As the Architect’s countenance sets, they cast thin shadows over the valley; such unique architecture, designed to allow as much light through as possible. Slivers of carefully placed marble catch the sunlight, a necessary evil to structure the glass. Whether rising or setting, the Architect can see almost all of the valley; the only place to hide is in the shadow of the Pedestal itself, tall as it is.

The Pedestal, a single structure in the heart of the valley, concentric runic rings set into marble forming a stage on which to present oneself for the Architect’s judgment. As the sun sets, and the Architect’s gaze is at its most intense, at the moment of its harshest judgment, the only place to hide from it in the entire valley is on the stairs to the Pedestal.

You’re not on the Pedestal today, despite your journey out here; just visitors. Students, on a field trip. Though the sight of the pedestal is striking, you’re, admittedly, more drawn to the beautiful willows that hang like a rapt audience over the mouth of the valley. Left to your own devices with Khara, you’ve dragged her all the way up here just to admire them as the sunlight burns off.

“What’s with you and these trees, huh?” she asks, a hand perched on her hip as she watches you brush your fingers through one of the soft fronds of the willow you both sit under.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, as your palm brushes across the leaves, you manage to coax a little katydid from the tangle into your hand. You present it to her, and she looks it over, her smile softening a bit. “There’s a lot of stuff up here. Mushrooms, bugs, birds. Sometimes even rabbits.”

“Guess even the animals need to hide from the sun once in a while, huh?” The two of you share a gentle laugh, as you let the katydid hop into her hand.

“Think so, yeah… the sun’s so harsh down there, isn’t it? It’s like standing right by a fire. It’s nice for a minute, but man… no wonder we didn’t see any animals down there.” You drum your fingers on your lap, peering again over the edge at the valley. As the stars begin to bare, the breeze cools, wafting through the tall grasses below like ripples across the ocean.

“Ever eaten a mushroom up here?” is a silly question that knocks you out of your moment of thought. You sit back, looking over at her and thinking for a moment.

“So… twice. The first time, I was really young and I brought a couple mushrooms back to my mom. She cut ‘em up and put ‘em in a stew, I was so proud! So proud that the second time I just pulled a mushroom out of the ground and stuck it in my mouth, and I got SO sick.”

“Ha! Genius.”

“My parents were worried about me and all, but y’know, there’s a big difference between just being sick and being sick because of your own dumb mistake. I could hear it in their voices every time they’d check on me. Ugh, this poor, dumb kid.” You kick your feet over the ledge idly as you tell your story. A quiet laugh comes from the both of you as your story ends, but even now, without the Architect to judge you, you’re both careful not to be too loud in what seems to you like a holy place.

When the opportunity comes, as the conversation lulls, you take a deep breath of the dusk air, sighing wistfully. “Isn’t it nice out here…?” Carried on the wind is the scent of… well, life, in bloom; it brings back uncountable memories of summers past.

“Yeah, I guess… it’s pretty cool at night. Beats the infinite pines back home. At least the trees out here like, change color and do stuff.”

“Snrrrk. Yeah. I just try to be grateful for the change of scenery, even if the way out here’s… rough.” Your gaze drifts behind you, to the cascade of tangled willow canopies that lead back towards the road… and, just your luck, happening to catch the moonlight just right, you notice… a mallard!

“Hey- hey, hey…” You lower your voice to a hush as you start to stand up, Khara looking bemused but getting up with you. “I think I see a duck…”

“A duck?” she looks at you quizzically. “What about it…?”

“What, you don’t like ducks?”

“No, ducks are great! I mean… okay, okay. Let’s go see this duck.”

You keep yourself low to the ground in some exaggerated attempt at stealth, as you sneak up on this duck, resting on the surface of a pond. Khara entertains your attempt at stealth, even if you can feel her judgment on your back the whole time.

You drop down to a squat by the edge of the pond, gently clicking your tongue to try and draw the awareness of the duck. It turns its head to regard you with disinterest, remaining where it is. You can’t help but admire the way the moonlight glances off its brilliant green head-feathers, and the way its beak almost looks like a slight, knowing smile…

Judgment or not, you glance over your shoulder to catch Khara admiring it, too. A light smile plays on her face, and yours, at the sight. You dig around into your pack, and withdraw a piece of bread you brought for this very purpose, breaking off a few chunks of it and casting them into the water.

Then, watching as this duck gobbles up the pieces of bread, you just… sit. You sit with her and watch, delighted to have made this duck’s day even a little bit better. Though… you can’t help but keep glancing at Khara, too, amazed that she’s even tolerating this nonsense, let alone that the duck smacking its face into the water in pursuit of the bread seems to entertain her, too.

You break off a few pieces of bread, and offer them to Khara. She casts them into the water, giggling as the duck smacks the water around with its beak while it gathers up all the pieces of bread.

This time, though, you can’t take your eyes off of her. Her smile…

You sit there with her for a while, just the two of you, away from the judgment of the Architect or from the judgment of your superiors. Bothering a duck.