Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sunbug felt the Grandfather Tree calling to her, and she had half a mind to ignore it. She was slightly terrified of what it might tell her. A little part of her wondered if maybe it was calling her forward to strip her of her gift for being unsuited. Weirdly, that thought left her feeling empty and wrong. Being stripped of her gift would mean failure, and that was far worse than struggling through the disconnect she'd been feeling.

Also, she'd recently learned that she might be okay, even if not a traditional vivify. So she'd hate to lose her chance to try before she really got her feet under her.

Certainly she'd lose her gift if she ignored the Tree altogether, too.

So dutifully she headed into the barrens, though she took her time to worry and coddle herself. As she neared, the call became stronger but also seemed to exude comforting feelings. They helped, somewhat, but nothing could stop Sunbug's brain completely when they cogs got turning.

She stopped at the roots of the tree, as stunned by it's span as she had been the first time she arrived. She looked up in silence for a while, appreciating the welcoming feel. The Grandfather Tree was home and guidance, she had to believe in that. It guided all of the nouls, all of Vykeli, toward their goal of renewal.

But she also had to ask. "Grandfather Tree, why have you given me this gift? Why Vivify? I don't understand."

Sunbug blinked open tiny eyes, confused as she gathered in her surroundings. She was tiny. A foal? How was that even possible? And she knew this field, almost definitely, but for a moment she couldn't remember how.

And then it hit her.

Her heart sunk a little as she finally recognized her childhood home - a gentle rolling hill filled with tiny white flowers and green clovers. The skies weren't totally clear, but they were filled with fat, white, harmless clouds that bumbled by at their own pace.

"It's beautiful."

Sunbug startled and swung to find Moonstruck sitting primly on a fallen log, his tails gathered around his feet. He looked normal, exactly as she had last seen him. So why was she so small?

"You were a cute kid," he chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I don't understand..." Everything felt hazy and dream-like. Her thoughts were a bit like molasses, but maybe that was just because she was processing too much new and old information.

"You don't have understand. You just have to make a decision." Moonstruck shrugged in that easy way he always did. "What do you want to do? Who do you want to see?"

Sunbug blinked again. See? Were... there people here for her to see? She turned uncertainly and headed downhill, toward the stream she knew existed just past the tree line. She knew Moonstruck would follow. He trailed behind her quietly, just watching.

Walking felt strange, like the world was moving and stretching around her out of tune to her actual existence. She supposed that was kind of true - wasn't her actual existence back in the Barrens? Grown and alone?

As if offended by the thought of her being alone, a figure became clear in the distance, standing over the stream and looking down. It had a cobbled together pack strapped to its back, and Sunbug recognized the silhouette almost immediately.

"Dad?" Her voice cracked with emotion and she had to blink through the fog of tears.

The buck turned and tilted his head, expression soft. "Oh, Bug. I'm not leaving for long."

"What?"

"It's just a couple days' trip. I'll go out with Starflight and be back before you can even miss me."

"I miss you so much already." Sunbug whispered. She'd finally caught on - he didn't know anything. Only she and Moonstruck did. She was being shown something so precious - her father had been taken from her on this very trip.

"Bug," her dad admonished gently. "You can't grow up to be a scout if you're always sad when people leave."

Sunbug took a deep breath, settling herself, but her sadness sat like a stone in her throat. "I know, I'm sorry." She walked over to stand next to him by the stream and looked down into the water at their reflections. Her face was young, but largely unchanged from how she was as an adult. Her dad's face was exactly as she remembered it - chiseled and tired, but mirthful. His overly-curly mane was tied back out of his face in a small knot behind his ears with a beaded length of hemp she had made him with her nanny. Sunbug re-memorized every detail. She might not get another chance.

He leaned over and bumped her shoulder. "I'll miss you too, though. I always do. When we get back you and I will do something fun."

Sunbug hummed agreeably. They would never get the chance, but she appreciated his effort. Her eyes skittered across the reflection of his golden adept marking crossing the bridge of his nose. "Dad? Did the Grandfather Tree give you the right gift?"

He seemed surprised and took a moment to consider. "Well, I think so. It helps me be a better scout. I stay warm, I can see better and farther, and I can guide my way when it's dark."

She knew that, of course. Those were all the things she had wanted. "What if the Tree had given you the wrong gift?"

He pursed his lips together as he thought. "I don't think it could," he answered finally. "It sees who you are, and it gives you the gift you need. Even if you don't think you need it."

Was that all it was? She didn't think she needed it? She sighed.

"What's bothering you, Bug?"

"I'm scared of what my gift will mean. Who it will turn me into and what the tree wants me to be."

Her dad gave a surprised chuckle. "Whoa, those are some big thoughts." But he could see she was serious and anxious, so he pressed his nose to her cheek. "The Tree gives us what we need so that we can help it and Vykeli. But it does not change who we are. If you want to grow up to be a scout like me, then you'll grow up to be a scout and your gift will only enhance your ability to do that. The ability enhances you, not the other way around."

That was pretty reassuring, actually. It didn't completely untie the knot in her chest, but he was right. It was her gift, not her entire being. "Okay," she agreed softly. "You're right."

"I'm always right," he beamed. "Now you bed down here, don't stray too far, and I'll be back before the moon rises a third time. Be good and be smart."

She watched him turn, and she wanted to cry out, but there was nothing she could do that would stop the current situation she lived in. Instead she let him walk away, tears finally silently spilling over like hot rivers on her cheeks. She would never see him again, but she would have this memory forever.

Moonstruck curled between her legs, startling her. She'd totally forgotten he was there. "He was a good dad."

"Yeah, the best," she agreed, throat thick with sadness.