Mellow conflagrations of pink and yellow rose over the forest skyline washing away the night of crimson. On the cabin floor, Lam had heavy bags underneath his eyes and every time he tried to get comfortable the wooden floorboards would squeak like mating mice, postponing his due dreams.
When he tried to climb back to bed last night, instead of a warm blanket greeting, instead he got a kick to his stomach. 'Your skin is so goddamn cold kid. Don't touch me.' He knew that time spent arguing would beg no results; it wasn't the first time that skeleton kicked him off. So he created a temporary mattress out of yesterday's clothes — sprinkled with winter chill, stink, and dust.
Morning shine streamed through the hole-riddled wall and smacked right on his face. A tired sigh escaped his lips and Lam sat up, legs anchored, and scratched his spiky hair that ran down to his ribs. Flakes snowed down from his head and landed on his brown shirt, but Lam dismissed the icing of dandruff and struggled to his feet.
On the table bench, he spotted the weaved basket partially empty with nashi and a roll of olive-coloured twine. He ripped a forearm's length of twine off and twirled it around his hair into a low ponytail; bits of cowlick sticking out here and there. Then his fingers reached for the basket and plucked a nashi into his mouth.
'Hard!' He spat the fruit into his rough hands, the taste of ice particles lingering on his tongue. 'So annoying.' Lam placed the fruit back and sauntered over to the bedside where he cradled the massive lump that laid beneath the blanket. Accompanied with each sway, the lump would react with a muffled groan until an owl skull slipped out. It was twice as large as his head and titled from one side to another in a daze.
"Stop pushing me around, kid. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"
A small vein appeared on Lam's temple as his dried lips formed into an exasperated smile. "Do you know what you put me through last night? I had to sleep in the stink and cold of my own clothes while you slept a life of luxury!"
The owl skull buried itself back into the blanket with a lackadaisical response, "I don't care, kid. Your voice is annoying me so just shut up for a few hours."
Lam pulled the blanket and flung it far away. "Get out of bed already! We need to go somewhere today and I might need your help."
Exposed to the cold, the owl reached his pellucid arms out towards the blanket as if another man snatched his lover away — in this case, the table bench. "Give it back to me. I'm so cold right now." But Lam didn't. Instead, he got ready for the long trip into the forest. If he prepared and with a little luck then by sundown, he would have a whole basket of nashi to live off on for several days.
As he pushed his grey woollen feet into the forestry boots, he 'listened' to the owl maunder about the cold until he heard a slow creek from the bed. A hard tap brushed against his shoulders and glanced behind him. With a wavelike motion on a stormy night, the owl donned the cloak over his broad shoulders. The cloak was designed with overlapping feathers shaped like diamonds and its length dragged along his feet. "I'm done so what's taking you so long?"
Lam's brown eyes rolled back. Sometimes he questioned why he tolerated with such a bothersome guardian. He dismissed the question and walked to the cabin cabinet where he clutched a small hunter bow. It was crafted with flexible wood, but she had terrible craftsmanship. When he lightly ran his fingers over the surface of the bow limbs, he could feel miniature nicks and cracks and traced it towards the fuzzy bowstring.
The memory of his first time releasing an arrow from the nock was still fresh in his mind. Straightening his back and pulling the bowstring with all his might; the arrow streaming across the air. But it never hit the target and the consolation prize was a bucket of snow on his head. He equipped the quiver around his back, carried the bow in his hands, and creaked the scrawny door open.
Sweet fresh air reinvigorated his nostrils and rinsed his groggy sense that plagued his body clean, slightly elevating his condition. As the morning shine rose, Lam's eyes roamed for new details. Blades of grass thawed from their frozen coffins, soufflé clouds oozed with the creamy wind, and underfoot, soft pebble crumbs prickled against the sole of his forestry boots.
Lam closed his eyes and concentrated; the chirping morning call missing from the forest.
The door banged shut and Lam felt a presence beside him. He could already imagine who it was: his beak shipped at the end, hollow eyes that could house a fat pigeon, and arms that extended to his feet. "Look at my poor hands, just look at them. What do you have to say for yourself?" His hands were pellucid with skeletal hands browned with age.
"For an old owl, you sure whine a lot." Lam stretched his stiff limbs with a yawn. "Anyway, we need to collect some supplies at her place. I don't want to eat stones every day."
"Stones?"
"Fruit, you stupid owl."
"You shouldn't throw insults at your elders you know."
Lam snubbed, "Just try to keep up, okay elder." The pebbles beneath crunched into action and before long, Lam vanished from sight leaving a snowy trail behind.
"Tch. This kid is getting more rebellious by the day." The owl, with his hollow eyes, looked at his skin and sighed. He didn't have to keep up with the facade anymore. The illusion of the transparent flesh disappeared and lightning-streak cracks appeared over his skeletal body. 'My time is ending anyway. At least I won't have to deal with him any longer.' He clenched his bony fingers into a hollow fist then strolled into the forest with ghost steps.
…
Peaked at its highest point, rays of soft life shone towards the titanic greenery below. A figure could be seen leaping from one branch to another, slick as butter in a pan, and the wind roaring in his ears. Occasionally, he would stop and explore the terrain with his trained eye before advancing forward. It was midday and the rising temperature pervaded through the forest. But the snow remained and coloured the forest in a youthful combination of green and white. Underneath its attractive qualities however was a treacherous road that could kill him at any time. The old owl lectured him about it on multiple occasions when his hair was short and his palms were tender.
'Each environment has its system, he'd say. And here, the forest is divided into three different layers: the floor, the understory, and the canopy. Lam, do you know the wild mushrooms I have you collect every few days? Well, those came from the forest floor, the area where you play with those deer. But you shouldn't hang around there for long because the aristocrats will come for you.'
'This is boring Senso. I want to play outside.' Lam had complained while fidgeting with a stuffed crow toy.
'Do you know what they'll do to you if the aristocrats find you? Senso once asked him. They'll hunt you down and eat you up. Even if you scream, they won't hesitate.'
'Are they really that scary?'
'They are. And one day I won't be able to protect you when that day comes.'
That felt like a hundred years ago. The old owl the essential skills to survive and taught him how to advance through the forest. Like how he grabbed hard onto the edge of a branch and lifted himself up, the myriad of fluttering leaves in his face, the uneven exterior of wood scraping his palms. It was like someone was doing the moves for him. But, there was never a safe route in the forest, especially during the season where the wooden giants grow tired and shrivel. One leap after another, Lam made progress through the understory until his ears sensed something above.
'Kid, although you don't have the strength to crush boulders or the wisdom to outwit your enemies, that is not all you need.' He remembered the old owl's laughter and the feel of his bony fingers against his head. 'Intuition, kid. That is the quality you have to hone; to soar through any trouble and get out of any pinch.'
Lam's eyes roamed the area like a fly, his pupil darting in every corner, and flung himself to the right. His body crashed into the heavy trunk but without a second thought, he fell towards the floor. Through the falling air, he glanced back. A tub of snow plummeted onto the thick branch and snapped it like a twig. Then an onslaught of snow fell afterwards destroying everything in its path.
'Crap. Crap. Crap.' He pulled a bunch of wooden arrows out and rammed them into the trunk. It scrapped bark into his face but the momentum alleviated for a second. That was all the time he needed.
His footing slammed onto the trunk and pushed his feet away from the trunk. He flipped like a gold coin and his feet landed onto a nearby trunk. With another push, he flipped and landed onto another one until he reached the forest floor.
Lam rolled across the floor and stabbed his fingers into the snow layered ground and stopped. Heavy breaths heaved from his mouth as he closed his eyes in relief. His fingers were freezing and snow dug into in fingernails, crumbled leaves decorated his long hair, and his grey sheepskin cloak dirtied with powered white and sweat. He flopped onto his back and stayed still, pain lingering throughout his body.
Rest. That was all he desired at this moment.
But at that moment he heard a long howl in the distance and the gnashing of teeth. 'This day keeps getting better by the second.'