Very unedited chapter 3 of new story :)

3

            Flit stood motionless with his mouth agape for several minutes.  His eyes jumped to the empty air, where the pillar of fire had been, to the while flower in his hands.  How am I supposed to keep this thing safe? Won’t smashing it in a pocket kill it faster? He pulled out his shirt to peek inside and then looked in his pocket, trying to decide what to do with the flower.

            “It is beautiful,” he mumbled to himself.  He had never seen anything so white in all his life.  It gave off its own light and it actually felt warm in his hand.

            He walked mindlessly around the garden, the short conversation with the pillar of fire playing over and over again in his mind.  What am I to learn? Patience!     

            “Why do you marvel, Flit,” the blond’s voice spoke.

            “How can I hide this without destroying it?  And how is it supposed to protect me from that horrible demon?  How do I get out of this place?” Flit struggled to control his fear and hold back the tears trying to make an appearance.

            “Only a few things besides time will harm that flower,” the redhead spoke out of nowhere. 

            “Like what?”

            “Any acts of evil by you will hasten its demise,” the blond stated.

            “I don’t understand?” Flit shook his head.  “How am I to know what is evil and what isn’t?”

            “The flower can teach you.  Pay attention to it.  You’re actions can cause the petals to discolor and wilt.” The blond in her white gown flashed in his vision and then vanished.

            “What types of things should I avoid?” Flit pleaded.

            “Lying, cheating, stealing, murdering…” several female voices almost sang. 

            “These things are evil,” the redhead’s voice added. “But your heart has already told you these things.  All life knew these things at one time or another.  They have just put them off so long that their hearts are corrupted.”

            “But then how am I, a malo, supposed to survive?  We must steal to eat,” Flit stated, eyeing the flower.

            “You must find other ways to live,” the blond said. “You have collected berries.”

            “Like that’s going to be easy.” Flit exhaled and rolled his eyes.

            “It is time for you to leave Flit.  You must return to this garden before the last petal falls,” the redhead stated.

            “How am I to know when that will happen and how do I get out of here?”

            “Watch the flower.  Learn the color of the petals right before they drop.  That will tell you how much time you have,” the redhead continued.

            “As for how to get out of here, the flower has the power to open the gate,” the blond said.

            “The gate?”

            “The gate,” several voices repeated.

            “Where is the gate?”

            “It is wherever the holder of a flower chooses to enter the wall,” the blond informed him.  “Remember to return before the flower dies or the demon will come for you.”

            “Where is the gate?” Flit questioned but no one answered.

            He stood listening for several moments.  “Hello?”

Again, no one answered. 

“The gate is wherever one with a flower chooses?” he muttered to himself.  He glanced at the flower and then at the wall of thorns. 

            Deciding he would be lost if he didn’t leave on the same side as he entered, he went in search of the opening he had created.  It took him a lot longer than he had anticipated as the hole must have sealed itself.  He used his memory of what he had seen upon first entering the garden to determine his location. 

            “I think this is it.” He eyed the spot for a few moments.  After taking a deep breath, he walked towards the wall.

            Flit jumped when the thorns dissolved and a beautiful golden archway with golden gates appeared in their stead.  “Wow.” Flit’s jaw dropped.  He half expected his hand to pass through the golden doors when his skin touched the actual metal. 

            He slid his hand along the smooth metal surface, admiring its beauty.  He had only ever seen small coins of gold and their value was incredibly great.  For a brief moment he wondered how much he could trade for such an amount of gold.  I would be killed for one of those small coins and probably much worse for this much gold.

            He peered through the bars of the gate at the dark forest beyond and then pushed his way through.  After taking several steps into the trees, he glanced back to see the gate had turned back into the wall of thorns.  The sky changed to the dim smoky haze it always was, except today there was a slight difference.  Instead of the smoke totally hiding the sun from view, Flit could pinpoint its location through the haze as if it were slightly thinner than usual.

Turning back towards the thorns, he held out the flower and the gate returned.  “Wow.” He marveled at the magic of the flower. 

            Not wanting to lose his precious gift, he tucked the flower very gently into his pocket.  He started retracing the path that brought him to this part of the forest.  He was no more than fifty yards away from the wall when the thudding of heavy feet shook the ground.  The demon! Flit hopped behind the nearest tree.  Fear spread over him as if he had been dipped in icy waters. 

            He poked his head out for a quick peek.  The demon with fire dancing over his skin rode his reptilian mount along the perimeter of the wall.  When it reached the spot where Flit had exited, it came to a halt.  The mount’s nostrils flared as it sniffed the area around the wall.

            A high-pitched cry echoed through the forest so terrifying it almost stopped Flit’s heart.  He covered his ears against the intensity and length of the wail, curling into a crouch on the forest floor.  When the noise stopped a deep silence followed as if the cry had chased all the life out of the forest.

            “I know you left the gardens,” a deep growl-like voice rumbled through the forest.  “I will find you and torment you.  Your death will not be swift.  You will endure more pain than you can imagine.  You cannot hide from me.”

            Flit started to blubber silently in his little bubble of fear.  Why?  Why did you leave the gardens? 

            The sniffing of the beast grew nearer and nearer until it was within a couple dozen yards of Flit’s position.  Flit trembled so violently he couldn’t control his limbs.  It will find me.  He will kill me. Tears rolled down Flit’s cheeks and his bottom lip quivered at a great speed.

            Just when Flit thought the demon was about to seal his fate, the beast it rode turned and moved off in another direction.  Flit dared not even budge as the rider and its mount zigzagged in a wide circle around Flit’s position but never managed to get closer than a stones cast.

            After remaining in his paranoid state, shacking from head to toe, waiting for the demon to feed him to his mount, Flit found the courage to stand. It took all the strength he had to remain up right while his knees knocked together. 

            The demon and its ride continued their search about a hundred yards off to his left.  The beast would sniff the ground and the air trying to locate what it knew was somewhere out there.

            Flit took the flower out of his pocket and cupped it in his hands to protect it.  He peered at it through a small opening.  It works! Still the demon knew he was out and seemed to be able to track him enough to remain a lot closer than Flit would have liked.  Maybe it will fall behind and wander away.  He carefully slid the flower back into his pocket.

            Keeping the Demon in view, Flit took a tentative step forward.  The dry leaves crackled under his feet, causing his heart to jump into his throat. 

            The demon and the thing it rode didn’t appear to have heard the sound, continuing their search in a confused manner.  The beast would appear to have found a scent one moment and then lose it again a few seconds later.

            Flit moved again.  Still the demon didn’t notice.  He advanced several paces and the demon didn’t respond.  Flit continued attempting greater and greater distances until after no response from the demon, he made his break. 

            He finally turned his back on the demon and hurried to the cliff he had tumbled over the day before.  From there, he tracked his way back to the tree where he covered his eyes and spun away.  Dried blood covered the leaves beneath the tree Jett had climbed.

            “I’m sorry, Jett,” he muttered to himself.  Even though Jett had hated him, Flit felt empty and sad inside.  He struggled to hold back his emotions.  “No one deserves that.”

            Hanging his head in sorrow, Flit made his way back to the malo’s camp.  The closer he go to its boarders, the greater the anxiety he felt.  He knew he would have to tell them about Jett’s death and something about his escape.  They will not believe I got away when Jett, who was the stronger and faster, did not.

            “Where have you been?” a deep voice surprised Flit, causing him to jump.  The guard, Mish, appeared from behind a tree.  “And where’s Jett?”  A scowl creating deep lines of disapproval creased Mish’s face.  “You were supposed to bring back some food.”

            “Jett’s dead,” Flit said, hoping the horrible news would ease some of Mish’s tension and desire for food.  “I barely escaped with my life.”

            “What?  How?” Mish’s expression changed to one of fear as he cast a wayward glance at the forest. 

            “A black bird alerted some other creatures,” Flit explained about the monsters that chased them and how Jett managed to get in the tree while he had to flee on foot.  He told him about the horrible scream he had heard after fallen over the cliff.  “When I found the spot today…blood…everywhere.” Flit hung his head at the horrible memory.

            Mish’s eyes moved up and down with a curious expression. “We should go and report to the council,” Mish nodded in the direction of the village and started marching towards the camp.

            Mish’s questioning glance, gave Flit the impression Mish didn’t believe his story.  Flit followed Mish into the camp, which consisted of make-shift tents constructed from branches and worn out fabric.  Small fires, giving off little smoke, burned here and there to hide their presence.  The enter camp was one of poverty and isolation.

            Mish signaled two young malos.  The boys hurried toward him.  “Go and summon the council.  Flit has returned and Jett is dead.”

            The two small malos hurried off to fulfill their charge. 

            Flit and Mish headed towards the largest tent in the camp.  By the time they arrived others started to gather in response to the boys summons.  Flit followed Mish in through an opened flap of cloth.  Log benches formed a circle around the tent walls and torches burned on wooden polls, making it possible to see. 

            “Stand in the center.” Mish waved Flit into the middle of the room.

            Flit’s legs felt like they had sprouted roots each time he put a foot down.  He found it difficult to meet the eyes of the council members, who continued to file in the opening.  The malos both men and women crowded onto the benches.  With each new member, Flit found it more difficult to breath as if the room grew smaller and smaller.

            The head malo, an elder male with a grey mop of hair and wrinkled tan face spoke quietly with Mish for several moments.  All the other crosstalk in the room left Flit wondering what Mish was saying.  Flit tried to read the elder malo’s expressions but they remained unchanged.

            The tension made Flit want to flee and when he didn’t think he could stand no more, the elder malo rose to his feet.  He raised his hands high in the air so that he was almost touching the top of the tent.  This gesture brought instant silence to the council.

            “Jett is dead,” the head malo stated loudly and a wave of gasps and a few cries broke out among the council.  “Flit is here to tell us what happened.  Flit.”  The chief took his seat.

            Once more, Flit told the tale about what had happened to Jett and how he had escaped.  Again, he stopped the tale at the point of falling over the cliff, letting the council assume it was how he had escaped.  He knew he couldn’t tell them about the gardens, for no one would believe him, plus the ghost had informed him to keep it a secret.

            “Are you sure the blood was Jett’s?” a council member questioned.

            “Ah…I couldn’t find another explanation,” Flit stated.  “But, it is possible it wasn’t his.”

            Flit noticed the head malo nod towards Mish.

            “I have a question,” Mish bellowed and all eyes turned towards him.  “If you fell over a cliff and landed in bush as you say, where are your injuries?  You don’t have so much as a scratch on your skin.  Your clothing looks ripped and shredded, but you have no marks.”

            This question sent a wave of murmurs and head nodding around the room.

            Flit remembered the fruit and held up his arm to see his smooth tan skin which was whole and undamaged.

            “What are you saying?” another council member asked.

            “I think Flit had some hand in Jett’s death.  Whether he pushed Jett out of the tree to satisfy the beasts or outright murdered him,” Mish exclaimed.  “Then he shredded his clothes and made up his escape.”

            “Let us see your back,” another member demanded. 

            “Yes, show us your back.” They all started to chant.

            “M—murder…M—my back?” Flit’s body started to tremble and his head began to spin.  What was happening?

            Mish rushed Flit and knocked him to the floor.  After ripping Flits shirt off, he yanked him to his feet and spun him around for all to see the smooth undamaged skin.

            “I did not murder Jett,” Flit wailed and tears formed along the bottom of his eyes. 

            “Then where are the marks,” Many demanded.

            “I used a salve,” Flit lied and felt and his front thigh grew icy cold.  The flower floated at the front of his mind, but he didn’t respond to it.

            “Liar! Liar!” Everyone started to chant.

            “Kill him.” others shouted. 

            Once more, the head malo stood and held up his arms to silence the crowd.  “We have no proof Flit murdered Jett, but…”  His eyes locked on to Flits.  “His story does not ring true.  We cannot trust him.”

            “Banish him,” a woman shouted.

            “Yes, banish him,” another agreed. 

            “Flog him and banish him,” they all started chanting.

            “NO!  I swear. I did nothing wrong,” Flit cried.

            “It shall be so,” the head malo shouted and the group rose to their feet. 

They dragged a scream Flit out of the tent and tied him to a tree.  By this time everyone in the camp had turned up to see what the disturbance was. 

“Flit, I hear by sentence you to receive twenty lashes and you are banished from out presence,” the head malo shouted.

Pain, erupted across Flit’s back as if he had fallen backwards into a fire.  He screamed with each crack of the whip.  He could barely make out the crowds faces through his tears.  They were cheering his anguish.  Their faces appeared distorted and twisted as they spit towards him.  A spark ignited somewhere in the back of his mind, causing the tears and his voice to stop.  He teeth clenched and he took the last few lashes without showing any response.

Mish cut the rope holding Flit against the tree and Flit dropped to the ground. 

“If I ever see you again, I will kill you,” Mish whispered in his ear.

The crowd started chanting in unison, “Leave. Leave. Leave.”

Flit struggled to hide his pain while he struggled to his feet.  He leaned against the tree for several moments to regain his composure.  Blood ran down his back and he wished he had some of the garden’s fruit to stop the pain.  The garden.  The flower.  The cold.  He slowly slid his hand up and down his thigh as if the movement made him feel better. 

“Someone bring him a cloak,” the head malo shouted and a man tossed a tattered leather garment made from a fruit collecting sack at Flit’s feet.

Flit eased his way to the ground by kneeling on one knee.  Any attempt to bend or twist his back created a sharp shot of pain that would take his breath away.  He struggled to maintain a passive face not wanting to give the malos the satisfaction of seeing him punished.  They never even liked you.  Even while they rejected him, he couldn’t find it in his heart to hate them as his eyes jumped around the shabby camp. 

He snagged the garment and gritted his teeth in order to regain his feet. 

“Flit, you are no longer welcome in our camp.  If you return, you will be treated as a criminal and executed,” the head malo shouted and then turned his back to Flit, then the entire camp showed Flit their backs as well.

Flit glanced at the people he knew and then swallowed the lump pushing its way into his throat at the prospect of being alone.  “I didn’t do anything to Jett.” Flit walked gingerly away from the camp, each step was a new experience in pain.  He tried to maintain a statuesque-like posture to his gate in order to decrease the pain from his wounds.

When he reached the edge of the camp, he leaned against a tree to gain his composure.  He didn’t know if it was his injured back or fear of the unknown that halted his departure.  He slowly checked the area for any unwanted eyes before checking the flower. 

The sight that met his eyes caused him greater distress one of the petals had wilted brown and fallen away from the main flower.  How? I thought I had several weeks.  He remembered the cold feeling and noticed the dead petal felt like ice while the main flower remained warm to the touch.

He tried to remember what was happening the moment he noticed the cold.  I had told a lie.  I lied about how my injuries were healed, but surely I had a reason to do it?

Flit eyed the dead petal for a moment and then dropped it to the forest floor.  The second the petal hit the ground, the beast the demon rode, let out a roar from somewhere inside the forest.  Flit froze.  He strained his ears wondering if he had imagined it when the roar came again, closer.

He’s heading this way!