Wolf Read - The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring

Annwn tightly shut her eyes against the blinding luminescence reflecting from the water. Tripping on soft ground—sand!—she fell to her knees, realizing that the cold breath of a fresh wind buffeted her numb, foliage-slapped face. She flopped to the ground, lying prone, her cheek resting in the sand, torso heaving in an attempt to bring oxygen to her deprived muscles. Miranda, gasping, collapsed beside her.

Annwn now knew which race she had been running. And she had won. Her success was enough to calm her. With the feeling of tiny cold feet stepping on her back, she fell asleep.

A low rumbling awoke her. Frightened, she looked up, and regretted the motion for her ravaged sinuses ached severely. Her nose completely stuffed, she had to breathe through a sore mouth. Where were the others? She saw them, lying about in the sand, illuminated by an afternoon sun, all sleeping. Miranda seemed peaceful in her rest.

The breeze had grown strong while she slept, rushing inland with an assuring force. She looked back to the forest from which they had emerged, the wind whipping her long snarled hair about her face, knocking off caked sand.

Her jaw dropped. The mountains glowed with the bright colors of flowers desperate to get their spoor out and about before winter's next onslaught. Insect-like creatures darted in circles, seeking out copious food, glittering in the sunlight as the wind tossed them like snowflakes. Billowing and swirling, a blizzard of pollen made the sky yellow-green, save for the clean stretch behind her, offshore, glowing a refreshing indigo blue.

The wind would carry the eruption of yellow dust deep inland, probably even across the basalt plain to the site of their crash landing. Now she knew why she had been so insistent on walking to the colony, instead of waiting at the smashed shuttle. Their only hope had been to be on the beach, in the safety of the breeze. But would the breeze last through the night, when the inland heating stopped…?

Growing more intense, the rumbling brought flashbacks of the herd that had assailed them. She stood up. Her legs responded with painful spasms and shook continually as she held her stance. Never had she been so weak, so in need of food.

The deep reverberation issued from the north, but she could see nothing over a large dune. Stiffly, she walked to the sandy hill, and began a lethargic attempt to climb the crumbly face. Progress was slow. Xavier ran ahead of her, reaching the top with puppyish ease. Ears blown back by the force of the wind, he stared at something bothersome, his mistrust marked by his down-curled tail.

“What is it now?” she sighed. “What more can this planet throw at us?” She slipped almost as far down as the gain she achieved with each step. She already breathed hard from the effort.

The rumble changed in pitch, almost hurting her ears, drowning out the wind’s sorrowful whistle. She looked up fearfully, realizing that she wouldn’t reach the dune’s top in time. Xavier ran down. A heavy shadow passed overhead, thundering with the intensity of a machine.

Annwn collapsed as Xavier collided with her legs. Her gaze followed the huge, noisy object as she dropped backwards. A ducted-fan craft. The vehicle slowed, turning in her direction. Maybe the pilot saw Xavier standing bravely at the tip of the dune, his beautiful gray coat ruffed by the breeze.

The craft landed at a safe distance, loose sand billowing upward as it delicately touched ground. From her upside-down vantage she could see people exiting the craft. One figure looked like her father. He had survived, which probably meant her mother had as well! “Dad.” She tried to shout the word, but it only came out as a whisper. “I’m glad to see you.” Too distant to hear, he quietly continued his urgent trot across the soft sand. Nevertheless, Annwn found the words satisfying to speak. As he neared, she used what little energy she had left to sit up, surprised by the strong desire for a hug that exploded through the shell of suppressed worries she had about her family. Xavier, standing next to her, ears alert, tail steady, watched the strangers with intense blue eyes. “Don’t worry, Xavier,” she replied, barely able to hear herself. “They’re friends. We’ll be safe now. Go say hi.”

He ran off, stealing the first greeting.

For Sil

I wish to thank these people for their help in making “The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring” a reality: G. David Nordley, Nancy Zuidema, and the members of Avalon Rising, whose music is always an inspiration.