Not All Who Wander Are Lost

The way this creature talks is strange and exotic and Keahi feels a small smile trying to worm its way onto her lips. Dipping her russet head in response to his greeting, she says, “Thank you for the welcome. Do you greet all newcomers to this place?” It is a serious question, no malice or humor hidden within the words. For all she knows, there is greeting in every place here. Eyes sweep over the male once more as she questions him when a breeze tickles her ears and runs its cool fingers through her coat. The whispering of branches rustling with the wind has Keahi tilting her head back and her blue gaze lifting to look up at the canopy of leaves above her.

These mighty oaks are ancient beings, that live and breath. They communicate with each other, heal each other, and nurture one another. Back home on her island, trees are given respect for the life and food they give and, for a fleeting a moment, she wonders if this land gives them the same reverence. Branches rub together and, in those soft sounds, Keahi hears these giant beings speaking to her. Looking back to the stranger, she gives him a small smile and says, “My name is Keahi. Would you mind me telling where I am, Mister…?” The words trail off, leaving a space for him drop his name. Blue eyes slide off his form to inspect a cluster of fungus that grows in the darkness offered by the downed trunk. Even that looks different from the ones in her home land.


"Keahi Mogotsi"