Morgana pushed herself up from the cold water. Her hair clung to her roundish face, and her cheeks blushed red like a cherub. She wiped her face dry with her hands, then flicked the water off her hands. Then she quickly looked around, hoping no one heard the commotion as she fell through the portal.

In the distance, she saw a figure approaching. Quickly, she reached into her pack and swallowed one of Doc Jones’ doses. She felt tingles throughout her body, then flowing out of her shoulder blades into her wings. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her wings disappear from view. She could still feel her wings, they were just now obscured from view.

The figure continued approaching and started waving at her. A voice called out, “Everything okay over there? Is everything okay?”

Morgana smiled and waved while responding, “Yes, all good. No worries here.” She hoped the figure would stop and turn around, but he continued coming closer. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her wings were not visible and took a deep breath.

Winded, the figure neared and slowed his approach. As he neared, Morgana got a better view. He was a short, older man with golden brown eyes. He waddled more than walked as he approached. His smile was kind however.

He stepped over a few rocks and stopped a few feet from Morgana. “Hi, I’m Riker. Are you okay? I couldn’t hear you,” he conveyed as he pointed to his ear. Morgana saw a contraption hanging over his ear.

She vigorously nodded her head, “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“We need to get you into some drier clothes. Come, follow me.”

Morgana tilted her head at the little man and determined he wouldn’t be a threat to her. She looked around and realized the only path away from here was to follow him anyhow. Adventure is what she set out for, so she shrugged and followed him.

The shore of the lake was covered with smooth round rocks and pebbles. The jagged mountain rose straight up, with brightly colored flowers clinging in the crevices. Some areas were bare black rock, slick and dew covered, other spots had hundreds of these floral plants sprouting everywhere.

“Excuse me. What do you call these flowers? They are beautiful!”

Riker turned back to her. “Oh, those are orchids. Do you like them? You can take one for your hair if you like.” The old man’s cheeks blushed as he said those words. “You’re a pretty girl. I have a son I’d like you to meet. Perhaps he’ll be home later today.”

Morgana blushed and smiled. She bowed her head and a strand of wet hair hung down against her cheek. “You’re too kind. Thank you.” She didn’t really know what else to say at that point. She turned and picked a bright white orchid from the wall, then tucked the wet strand of hair and the flower behind her ear.

A few more yards ahead, she spied a wood structure, unique to anything she had seen before. A small arched bridge went from the shore over a stream flowing down from the mountain. It stopped atop a large wooden deck which seemingly floated over the waters edge. The roof had a gentle upward curve, while the main floor was very straight, almost grid-like.

“Is this where you live? It’s beautiful.”

Riker smiled. “Yes, I came from another land and fell in love with their architecture here.” He softly opened the sliding gate and slid off his shoes. “Would you like to come in?”

Morgana slipped off her boots. “Should I also take my socks off?” she asked. She realized he was barefooted.

Riker smiled, “Whichever way you are most comfortable.”

Morgana opted to leave on her socks. At least they were still dry. She followed him inside.

The home was sparsely furnished, but the artwork on the walls caught her attention. A large painting of the mountainside loomed over a fireplace with a waterfall cascading down. She noticed that the archway she passed through was in the smallest of the details.

“Here you go, a towel to dry off. Here is also one of my wife’s wraps. You’re welcome to change into it while your clothes dry. There’s a small room over here where you can change.”

Morgana followed him. The room was cozy with a simple chair, small table, and a bed. For a moment she hesitated.

“No worries. It’s my daughter’s room. I’ll go make some tea.” Riker waddled off.

Morgana chuckled at herself. She could flatten the old man in just a few seconds if he tried anything, but he’d been nothing but nice to her. She closed the door behind her, then removed the flower from her hair. She dried off and changed into the silken wrap.

She looked around the room for a mirror, but noticed there wasn’t one in the room. How odd. Then she looked at the artwork on the wall. A small painting hung on the wall of a girl in a doorway with two cats. Raindrops were falling in front of them, but they were shaded by the overhang and a sakura tree hung overhead. Morgana smiled at the peaceful scene.

Morgana finally broke from her reflection on this little piece and made her way outside. “Riker, why are there no mirrors in the bedroom?” She fiddled to put the flower back behind her ear.

Riker grinned. “Here they practice something called feng shui. Ever hear of it?”

Morgana shook her head no. Riker motioned her to come to the sofa and he handed her a small book. “It’s a basic guide, but a bedroom should be calming and they believe mirrors can bounce energies around the room, so you either place a mirror out of sight of the bed or not put one in the bedroom at all.”

Morgana found it odd and furrowed her brow.

“It’s about balance, creating good energy, really interesting. You can read a little more about it. That’s a simplified guide.” Riker wandered back to the kitchen. “I’ll get our tea.”

Morgana flipped open the book and began to read.

A voice from the door bellowed, startling Morgana. “Hey Dad. I’m home.”

Morgana looked up and locked eyes with this new stranger. His 6 foot 1 inch frame blocked the light from outside. Silhouetted against the bright sky, she could still see his skin was darkly tanned and his piercing eyes black as coal. His hair was as dark as the jet black night sky. She inhaled and held her breath.

He was something to behold.

Morgana woke to the streams of sunlight piercing through the overhanging tree. The air at this elevation still chilled her to the bone. She sat up and rubbed her arms, then peered over to the archway. She noticed a slight shimmer to the opening, but the lands beyond appeared more foreign than she expected. She looked over the arch’s stones, each stone appearing to have a different symbol.

She recalled Misses Taylor insisting she take a book of symbols. She opened her pack and began thumbing through the pages. As she compared the symbols to the book, she realized the symbols represented different places. She wondered why an arch would have these symbols. The capstone was a compass rose; that symbol she understood. This stone was well out of reach, and stones making up the upper curve were without symbols. The other stones aligning each side of the arch each were carved with various symbols and shapes.

She searched for the first symbol, a stick figure with three roots, a main line, and five arrows shooting out from the top. Finally she located a similar symbol in the book. This symbol represents trees and forests. The second symbol was a flattened U shape with a horizonal line in the distance. As she flipped through the book, she finally found something similar, but no horizonal line. This symbol represents a boat. The bottom symbol she recognized as mountains. She smiled to herself, starting to understand the symbols somewhat.

The top right symbol contained wavy symbols similar to the mountains. She returned to the book to make sure she understood what she was seeing. There were two interpretations for this symbol, hills or sand dunes. She contorted her face, trying to make out the details to determine which symbol it was.

She stood up and loaded her pack on her back, then approached the gate with the book still in her hand. She compared the symbols, unsure of what it meant. She ran her hand over the symbol and the gate began to glow. Startled, she stepped back. All of the symbols began to project images into the opening, rotating through each symbol. She stood before the gate, amazed and frozen in place.

She had not translated the remaining two symbols when she heard a loud screech behind her. Instinctively, she ducked down as the talons of a large eagle grazed her head. It was time for her to get out of dodge, but the only exit from its attack was through the gate. She ran forward, unsure of where she’d end up and hoping there was a way back.

As she neared the opening, some tangle roots caught her foot, tripping her. Her hand reached out to the arch, touching the stone with the flattened U, to break her fall as she passed through the archway. She disappeared from the mountainside. The eagle landed atop the archway and shifted to look for another prey.

Morgana continued falling as as she passed through the gate and landed face first, splashing into shallow water. She sat up and looked about. Shallow fishing boats floated in the body of water ahead of her and strange mountains floated above the horizon in the distance. She looked behind her; the archway remained, but the opening had been bricked up. Two Sakura trees framed the archway.

Morgana knew she wasn’t home any more.

After a few weeks rest, Morgana ventured out through the town. She walked the winding path between the homes to the town center. She stopped off for a pastry and tea for lunch at Dark Owl Café. They serve the best tea in Morgana’s experience.

After her lunch, she found her way to the Sunny Sundries shop and met with ol’ Misses Taylor. The shop was filled with all she would need for her journey. Misses Taylor helped her pull together a small pack filled with provisions. Misses Taylor handed the pack to her and touched her hand sweetly. “The road may be long and twisted, but know you always have home in your heart.”

Morgana lowered her chin in thanks and headed out the door. She found her way home to close up the house and make her final preparations for her journey. She found her leg strap and placed her dagger in the sheaf, then laced up her boots. She looked back at her humble home one final time as the sun sat low, near the horizon, then closed and locked the door.

She made a final stop at the apothecary as she left her village. Doc Jones had a solution for her to help disguise her wings should she come across those who wouldn’t understand them.

“Here my dear. Take one a day. You have enough for a 40-day journey. I hope to see you home long before then,” Doc Jones tipped his head in farewell.

Morgana went in for a hug from the Doc and then stepped back, waving goodbye. “Thank you my friend. May happiness find you at every turn.”

As the night settled in, her comfort in traveling alone eased as she walked along the moonlit trail. Travel at night would be safer in these parts than by day, especially under the full moon; but that would soon change once she summited the ridge. She stretched out her dark wings, but then folded them in. She needed to work on her flying as she traveled, but for now, she decided to go by foot.

She rounded a curve and came to the edge of the lake. A waterfall fed the lake from the mountain before her with a steep but manageable climbing path running along side. Slowly, she worked her way up the craggy slope. Spray picked up by the wind occasionally sprinkled her face and arm, but she didn’t mind. She worked her way up to a flat spot which allowed her to take a moment and catch her breath.

She turned around and looked out over the lake and back to her village. Lights flickered from the small cottages in the distance. A small tear rolled down her cheek, crisp and cold. She hoped she’d be back one day, but for now, she needed to continue along this path. After a few moments, she turned back to the trail and continued on her journey.

The path became thinner and steeper as she climbed. She lost sight of the summit in the steepness and slipped on some loose gravel. Swiftly, she grabbed ahold of the stone wall beside her. Her fingers pressed into the tiniest crevices holding on to stop from falling. Gingerly she continued forward on the path. A steep drop off was directly behind her as she made her way face to face with the side of the mountain.

She took a few more steps and the path appeared to widen. She inhaled and then exhaled in relief. Just as she did, the path gave way, dropping her down the slope. She overcorrected and ended up falling away from the wall. Instinctively, she spread her wings, but she was falling too fast and couldn’t get the necessary lift.

She screamed a guttural scream, fearing that she couldn’t recover. Just then, a wind bellowed up under her wings and they caught on the breeze. She began to glide in the night sky. As she reoriented to her flight she flapped her wings and found she was soaring. She circled in the sky and looked back toward the mountain. She was so close to the summit and had almost made it on foot. Now that she was mid-air, she soared in the night air, making her way to the top, hoping that this time she’d stick the landing.

As she approached the summit, she saw an archway with a view to the other side. She neared the archway and began flapping to allow her to hover. Slowly she lowered herself to her feet and tucked her wings away. She finally reached her first stop of her journey. But this archway she did not expect. She looked at it. Each stone was engraved with different symbols, those of a foreign tongue. She set up a spot to rest though; the hike and the flight had zapped her energies. She’d get a better look at the arch in the morning.

A light rap on the door woke her from her slumber. A small stream of light flowed through her home from outside; the sun had risen. She slid out from her quilt and gently walked to the door. She peered outside to see Doc Jones standing on her porch.

“Good morning, Doc,” she announced as she opened the door.

Doc Jones looked her up and down, then looked at her in the face. “Good morning, Morgana. It looks like the reports of last night were correct.”

Morgana blushed. “Someone saw me hobbling home, did they?” She swung the door wide. “Come on in, I’m sure you want to take a look.” Morgana limped to the chair as Doc Jones walked over and kneeled down to check her ankle.

He carefully unwrapped her bandages. “Nice job on the wrapping. Let’s see.” He surveyed her skin noting some bruising and palpitated a few swollen spots on her ankle. Her responses were subtle winces. “Okay, looks just like a twisted ankle. Rest it for a few days and you’ll be back to a normal stride in no time.”

Morgana smiled at the doc. “Will do. Would you like some tea before you go?”

Doc Jones smiled, then shook is head no. “I have a few more people to see this morning. Illness waits for no one, not even the ol’ doc here.” He stood up and snapped his suspenders. “You rest. I’ll see myself out.”

She nodded and slightly waved as he walked out of her little hovel. On the table by her sat a small notebook and pen. She lowered her head and started to scribble notes of her thoughts from the previous night’s venture into the woods. She wrote a short poem about the doe and the buck and another about the owl’s flight.

She exhausted her creative juices about the night, then started to entertain where she would be in the future. She knew that she would head out for the mountain ridge as soon as she was able to fly once more. She looked forward to the day she could use her wings to soar back up high into the night sky, clearing that ridge, and exploring the world beyond.

Jack and Sal made their way to their next assignment to survey some land out West for a wealthy investor. The property had went up for sale as new land, never before deeded to any owners, and property of the state. A large field of wildflowers filled with Valerian honeysuckle and Indian Paintbrush appeared as they rode up on horseback.

Jack pulled out the map. “Sal, I think this is the place. Besides, I need to get off this beast. Why don’t we set up camp for the night. It’s going to be dark soon any hows.”

Sal pulled up beside Jack and took in a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance from the field. “Fine by me. It’s a sure pretty site.” Sal dismounted from his horse, Silver Tongue, and gave him a smooth pat. “I’m sure you’d like a break, too.”

Silver Tongue whinnied in delight and shook his head as Sal pulled off his pack and saddle.

“You baby that horse too much, Sal,” sneered Jack as he offloaded himself and things off the back of his horse. “See, Charlie here doesn’t need that type of attention. He’s a real man’s horse.”

Charlie looked over at Jack, then at Silver Tongue. He stomped one of his hooves in disapproval, but then stopped. He knew what Jack might do if he kept it up.

Sal and Jack set up their main work tent first and then their own sleeping shelters, then started up a fire to heat up some beans from their portable kitchen. It wasn’t much, but they’d hunt in the morning for some fresh meat to supplement.

As the sun set behind the mountains, the area around them first quieted, then seemed to come to life. The chirp of grasshoppers, the sound of the trees moving in the wind, and the hoot of an owl filled the air. In the distance, howls from a wolf pack floated their way.

“Well Jack, I’m off to bed. Catch up with you in the morn’,” Sal tipped his hat, hung it on the edge of his shelter and crawled inside.

Jack waved good night to his traveling companion, then reclined back on the log they had set up for seating and looked out over the meadow. In the distance, he saw what seemed to be a shadow walking among the flowers. “Hey, you. What are you doing out there?” he yelled out.

The shadow appeared to freeze and then disappeared before his eyes, leaving a trail of vapor behind. Jack rubbed his eyes and thought to himself, I must be more tired than I thought. With that, he decided to also turn in for the evening.

---

Sally laid on the sofa in her best dress. A boney aged finger, outstretch, pointed to the stone fireplace. Her eyes focused on the mantle where his picture sat, staring back at her. She knew she would see him again soon.

As she wheezed out her last breath, time became frozen in the main room of their humble home. She lay there dead, not to be found, not to be mourned, not to be buried or laid to rest.

The surrounding forest grew closer as the decades passed. Vines of kudzu and honeysuckle crept over the home and blocked any sunlight from entering the house. Spiders spun their webs, making the cabin their new home.

Aspen trees filled in the once tended garden while the meadow of wildflowers which drew them to settle here remained. In that field, many secrets lie buried, hopefully never to be found.

---

The start of something new…

Jon pointed out a booth to Steve. “Let’s sit here.” Then Jon looked around and nodded his head toward the corner. “Boy’s room. I’ll be back.” He slowly walked back.

Steve slid into the booth and removed his gloves and jacket. It was warm in the diner compared to the chilled air outside. A waitress just a few years younger than himself walked up. He looked at her nametag, Suzy. He looked up at her, “Hi, Suzy!”

She smiled as her brown eyes danced in the light from the pendant overhead. “Hi. What can I get you?” She wasn’t often greeted by her name, but she liked how Suzy fell off his tongue.

Steve proceeded to order, “My friend,” he nodded toward the back, “will have your famous hot cocoa and a burger with fries. I’ll have coffee and a burger too.”

Suzy looked at Steve a moment, then over her shoulder to the back. She then looked back at Steve. “Okay, two burgers and fries, a hot cocoa and a coffee. Coming up.”

She turned around and stepped behind the counter. She quickly returned with a hot cocoa and coffee. “So, your friend will be back soon?”

Steve smiled. He figured Jon was possibly cleaning up a bit since he’d been out on the street for a while. “Yes, he probably needs a few minutes.”

Suzy smiled back at Steve and returned to her duties behind the counter.

Jon returned and slid into the both across from Steve. “Oooh, that cocoa smells delish!” he leaned toward the cup and took in a big whiff. He pulled the cup closer to his side of the table, then looked up. “My granddaughter Suzy makes the best cocoa. I remember it from years ago.”

Steve smiled, looked at the waitress, then looked back. “Wow, our waitress is named Suzy.”

Jon continued, “Really? Small world! My Suzy is a sweetheart. She really should find herself a good man. Hard worker and pretty as all get out.” Jon smiled to himself, then looked at the quilt he had wrapped around his shoulders. “I know it isn’t much to look at, but the memories from this quilt keeps me warm.”

Steve leaned in to hear Jon as he continued on his poignant story.

“See, my wife’s grandmother made this quilt. It’s pieced together from old clothes and fabric findings. It’s why the pieces are all different.” He pointed at fabric covered in flowers, stripes, and solids. “We had plenty of picnics on this quilt, and used it on those cold nights to cuddle under, watching tv, and,” his smile turned a little shy and a blush came to his cheeks, “well, you know.”

Steve let out a chuckle, to which Suzy looked up and glanced over at the booth. That was the only table occupied that evening. It was a hearty chuckle, and while she didn’t know what it was about, it made her smile. She turned back to her work, waiting for the order to come up.

Jon continued to share his story, then switched his attention, “Now, about this watch. I’d really like you to have this watch, Steve.” Jon lovingly looked over the watch, holding the chain and rubbing its surface. “It’s a great watch, and I think you deserve it.”

Steve smiled. He had no need for a watch, but thanked Jon. “Tell you what. I’ll consider it. I’m going to step to the….boy’s room… before our meal comes. I’ll be right back.” Steve stood up and walked to the back of the diner.

A few minutes later, Steve returned. Suzy had just dropped off the two meals, still piping hot, at the table. However, Jon was no where to be seen. Suzy approached the table, her jacket on. “It’s almost the end of my shift, anything you need?”

Steve looked up at her, “Did you see where my friend went?” he asked as he glanced around. “I hope he didn’t leave.” Steve looked down at the table and the watch sat on the table beside the cup of cocoa.

Suzy looked at the table as Steve picked up the watch. “I didn’t see anyone with you sir, but that sure is a nice watch. Reminds me of my grandfather Jon’s. He loved that watch even though it never kept time.”

Steve looked at Suzy, then back at the watch in his hand. He opened the cover and read, The best gift you can give is your time.

He looked back up at Suzy and smiled. Then he looked at the jacket she was wearing to keep warm; a patchwork of fabrics, vibrant but familiar. “Where did you get your jacket?”

Suzy blushed. “I made this from my grandmother’s quilt. She and grandpa always used it and I wanted to keep it close. It had become tattered over the years. I hope I did it justice.”

Steve shook his head yes, still gripping the watch. “Yes, you did.”

Just as she finished her thought, another waitress walked in. Suzy waved hello and turned back to Steve. “Well, my shift is over, so Janice is going to take over. Have a…”

Steve interrupted her, “Suzy, it appears I ordered a meal too many — would you like to join me since your shift is done? I hear the burgers here are the best in town.

Suzy smiled as she slid off her coat and took a seat. She picked up the untouched mug in front of her and inhaled. “Hot Cocoa, my favorite.”

“I’m Steve by the way.”

Suzy’s grin grew, “Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Suzy.”

“Sir, do you need a watch? Sell it to you, cheap!” an old man, slumped on the sidewalk, held out his last prized possession. The silver pocket watch twirled from its chain, dented and well-loved. The man’s eyes cried out for help, but he wouldn’t beg, just offer things to sell to get by.

A sharply dressed man looked down at him. A chill went up his spine as he watched the older man with his watch. He raised his gloved hands to his face, blowing on them to keep them warm. His woolen coat, normally hot on his back even on the coldest days, suddenly felt as thin as silk.

He was a stranger to this town, and felt for the man on the street. He knew he needed to do something, but buying that watch would not help him. A voice in the back of his mind repeated, “The best gift you can give is your time.” He kneeled down, meeting the man on the street eye to eye.

“I have no need for your watch, but I am not familiar with this town. Could you tell me where I might get a good burger?”

The old man smiled and his eyes lit up. “The diner on 5th makes the best burgers in town. Their staff is great; they always give me hot cocoa when I stop by.”

“Would you show me the way?” He stretched out his hand to help the old man up. “I’m Steve by the way.”

The old man stumbled up to his feet. His coat was merely an old quilt, tattered by age and grayed by grime from living on the street. He wrapped it around himself tightly and tottered along down the road. “This way, sonny. Best burger in town. I’m Jon by the way.”

Jon showed Steve to the diner. When they arrived, Jon clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Thanks for the company. Enjoy your burger.” He turned to walk away.

Steve called out, “I could use some company, would you like to join me?” He paused as Jon turned to him. “My treat!”

Jon smiled a little, “I can get myself a hot cocoa.” He looked up at the steamed up windows, knowing the warmth would do him some good. “Sounds good.” Steve opened the door for Jon and let him lead the way.