Grasping at a Dream

Darkness, just the dim glow of her tail-blade, an amulet, a blue glow, and then waking up in a crowded market. It was all that she could remember, no matter how hard she had tried, and tried, and tried. If it weren't for her amulet, she wouldn't have even awoken with her own name. And yet, every night she tossed and turned in her covers, chasing wisps of familiarity for a bygone age, pieces of memories of a Faia that no longer exists as her mind makes an attempt to patch the holes that new memories have yet to fill.

      One such dream had been particularly vivid— and repetative at that. Running through a field of flowers that turned into a creek, then a forest, and then a familiar cavern, all the while chasing a keetadoar with a familiar shadow.  She had been searching the caverns for weeks since the first time she'd dreamt that, taking it as a sign that perhaps somewhere hidden deep within them was the key to unlocking those lost memories. 

      The caverns were dimly lit, the crystals and water illuminating the space with an ethereal, shimmering blue light that gave Sorrel the confidence to explore without the worry of stepping on any particularly sharp rocks, or worse, falling into a crevace. Each time she explored the place she seemed to find another trinket or item she could take to market for wisps upon her return.  Strange and magical things, and the feeling of being followed... 

     At some point, after hearing tales of keetadoars from other Faians travelling the caverns, she set her sights on searching for the elusive beings. Day in and day out she searched, diving deeper and deeper into the caverns. Exploring caves that were cold, or even suspiciously warm, with no sight of them. After two full weeks had passed she found herself tired and frustrated in the endeavor. What was the point in searching for a creature so elusive that other Faians have made folk tales about them? She'd seen more salamanders than Keetadoars, and they don't dare go near highly travelled areas of the caverns! 

     And yet she still went back, for a whole week after resolving that her efforts were pointless and would, ultimately, be fruitless. She wasn't sure why she was going back, and really it may well have been that she simply didn't have many better things to do. After all, she'd been exploring the caverns for weeks, they were starting to become more familiar to her than even the markets in town. 

      When she'd hear the rustling and tell-tale sound of paw pads on the stone floor of the caverns, she had assumed it was another smorkip, or another Faian's critter following her through the caverns. She yawned, dipping into a great, long stretch to attempt to shake the exhaustion from another night of restless dreams out of her bones. If whatever it was wanted to follow her, it could do as it pleased. She wouldn't stop it, but she was too tired to acknowledge it. 

      It wasn't until she sat down to have her lunch that she got a look at her little stalker, and she nearly dropped her lunch in shock when she did, in fact, lay her eyes upon the little beast. A keetadoar, there, watching her with curiousity sparkling in its little eyes. She couldn't believe it, surely she had just fallen asleep somewhere in the caverns! But when she pricked her pawpad on her tail-blade, she was most certainly awake, and had startled the being with her yelp of pain. It flew behind the nearest stalagmite, peeping back out at her.

       It seemed its curiousity pushed it to be braver than most, as after a moment of the two staring at one another from a distance, it slowly crept from its hiding place behind the stalagmite and back over to Sorrel, tenatively sniffing at her paw. "I'm okay," Sorrel whispered, earning a slight jolt back from the critter before it continued to examine her paw. Slowly, she lifted the paw to show the little creature,"see? It didn't even break the skin." 

      At this, as if somehow reassured, the creature took to other matters: the lunch Sorrel had packed full of foraged goodies, cheeses, and a couple of fluffy bread knots she'd made with a budding friend not too long ago. It had fallen partially onto the cavern floor when Sorrel first saw the Keetadoar, the cloth she'd tied them up in mostly undone. Sorrel watched as it tenatively sniffed at the foods, and then picked up a berry before scurrying a few paces away to inspect it further and scarf it down. She was so enamored by the creatures actions that it did so three or four times before she herself sat down and ate one of the bread knots, tearing it slightly open and putting a piece of cheese and a leafy, green plant in it before taking a bite. At this, it was the keetadoars turn to observe her eating habits. 

      They played this game for the entire meal, repeating the same motions back and forth until there was nothing left of the lunch Sorrel had packed, and their stomaches were quite full. Then, they both sat back contented, staring at each other with an odd sense of companionship filling the void where weariness once lived.