It opened its eyes with a singular thought in its head. Ilunin! yelled a voice from inside.
The voice beckoned to it like a wolf's call.
It opened its mouth trying to speak the name but all that came forth was a mumble, a wordless sound that its stiff tongue failed to make. Ilunin! said the voice in its head. It tried again, managing almost a feral growl akin to a rabid animal.
Though it could not speak, it began to feel. A thirst, first of all, for the water running past its legs, for the river from where it rose. Head to foot, it was still wet. Its curls were damp and heavy with water, its limbs dripping.
Ilunin!
It crouched on all fours on instinct, gaped its jaw and let the river fill its tiny mouth to the throat. Coughing, it almost choked and the breath that came to it just seconds ago was nearly extinguished.
It learned its first lesson then, that it was not invincible.
A separate feeling burned in its abdomen. A hunger for something that was not the trees around it, or the grass beneath them. That hunger led it to make its first wobbly steps. It caught on a stone and fell, and it was caught in the knee-deep waters of the river again. Ilunin! It rose with a jolt, in fear of the river robbing its breath.
It crawled to the bank, clawing at the soft sand like an infant, growling and grumbling.
Back on its feet, it was the hunger that guided it away from the river and toward the cover of trees. It sniffed at the air, finding only the smell of the river and grass and wet soil. And then something else.
Ilunin! "Ilunin!" This time the voice was not inside its head.
It swerved its head to the direction of the sound. From the shadows came leaping a boy half its height, but he had the same curls that it had. "Ilunin," he cried, eyes watery. Then he wrapped his arms around it, sending them both to the ground. "Ilunin, I'm sorry. I-I thought you were dead."
Ilunin.
It stared at him with curiosity, wondering if this little kid could ease the burn in its stomach. Chomp. It ate at his head. It learned then the taste of hair.
"Ahw," he whimpered, then laughed. "You still have the time for japes. Mother will whip us. We should head home."
He took its hand in his. Then it felt something more profound than hunger or thirst or fear. Familiarity. A feeling too complex for a creature born just today. It did not know what to do with it.
"Let's go Ilunin." He tugged on its hand.
Ilunin! It observed the way he said its name, the shapes of his mouth as he spoke.
"U..lun..n…" it spoke, copying him, barely audibly.
"Stop mocking me," he pouted. "Come now, you nearly died. We should head home. Father was right, we should not have come to this forest. Come, Ilunin, these trees are making me afraid."
"I...luun..," it whispered to itself, as the hunger burned again. It was hard to eat him, it needed something softer for teeth so blunt and jaws so weak.
It was hard remembering the way they took for a brain so young. Everything was new stimulus; and for Ilunin, the whole world was an assault to its senses. The feel of the soil beneath its feet, the brush of the grass against its shins, the smell of the air in the pathless forest. And the touch of this boy most specially. His hand that gripped at its wrist, not too tightly but not gently. His voice. "Mother will be upset, it's nearly sundown." And the look on its youthful face that brought out an animal instinct from inside it. To protect.
It felt fragile, in a forest utterly strange to it but the boy seemed more delicate in comparison. Spindly arms, a stature of a small shrub, and a growth of dark curls on his round head. If he so much as stumbled on a tree root, he would break into pieces.
Ilunin did not know then how the thoughts of him filled its head uninvited.
After combing through tall grass that left its skin itchy, it began to recognize a different scent. Not from the grass nor the soil. But a smell akin to the boy's. And stronger. Numerous. It plucked Ilunin's curious instinct, yet more prominent than that was fear. That's why Ilunin stopped its advancing feet and froze on its track. Not even the little boy's desperate pull could move it.
"Ilunin, what's wrong?"
It sniffed the air to make sure, before letting out something between a grunt and a whimper that scared the boy, though not enough to make him loosen his grip.
"This is not funny anymore," he began to cry, and to clasp harder.
When Ilunin turned to dash back to the glade, he jumped to grab it by its waist. "No, you shouldn't run away again. Father won't forgive us. Mother will surely punish you."
Ilunin tried to shake him off, but he was surprisingly steadfast, clasping his hands together to keep Ilunin from taking off again.
As Ilunin struggled to free itself, a warm breath breezed by, catching Ilunin's attention. The unseen force parted the grass as if with a gentle hand, drawing the blades towards the darkness of the woods, away from where they stood. Ilunin eyed that dark spot ahead, watching intently as the branches and the canopy seemed to bow down. From that darkness stepped out a creature just like Ilunin, two legs that made the dark recede with each step, two hands that pleasured the undergrowth and shrubberies with every caress, and a body that slithered through the treed path with such grace and affection. The sentinels and blades reached for her with their tips in desperation. They would step aside if she commanded it. She danced around them, greeting them with an embrace, her limbs fitting perfectly with theirs, the shape of her body completing them like a puzzle, as though there had always been a corner of them for her and hers for them. Her naked feet sent shivers down the carpet of grass. Her naked bosom made even Ilunin want to suckle milk from them.
When she was closer, Ilunin saw that she was different from it. Her hair fell down past her shoulders, and past her eyes. What part of her face that was visible was impeccably fair, brown as wet soil, clean as crystal clear river.
What Ilunin felt then was inexplainable. But it knew that like these shrubs and trees and grass, Ilunin was her creature. So Ilunin lowered her head as she crossed the glade.
Ilunin lost a sense of time, left with no way of knowing how long it took its creator to glide through the grass.
"Who is she?" asked the boy, still grabbing onto Ilunin.
When at last Ilunin felt her touch, a wave of ecstasy swept past its entire body. With every second of contact, Ilunin's body was assaulted with bouts of pleasure, nearly making it convulse. Its knees buckled in surrender. It needed to prop itself with its arms in order to stay up.
She cupped Ilunin's chin and looked deep into its eyes. Her eyes were a deep green, as intricate as the forest from where she came. Vividly, the leaves fanned inside her pupils, with a sound of rustling that seemed to emanate from her throat. Unlike Ilunin, she had no problem forming words.
"...become..." Her breath neither had beginning nor end. Her voice was the eternal sound of wind right from the moment that wind came to be. It flowed with traces of rage and storm but mostly, it was a calm draft that passed over the plains and vales. "...become..."
An intense gust of pleasure jolted Ilunin's very core when her lips touched Ilunin's own, passing her whisper inside Ilunin's throat. "...become..." The sound lingered inside Ilunin even as she withdrew, gliding back through the grass and woods in the same flamboyant way that she arrived. The blades reached for her. The trees begged for attention. The dark cowered in fear. She slithered and wound her own path in the pathless earth.
And like a passing breeze there was no trace left of her, only the voice passed down Ilunin's mouth, echoing there, "...become..."
"What just happened?! Did you know her Ilunin? She didn't have clothes! Ilunin!" The boy exclaimed in shock. He kept shaking it. "Ilunin!"
"Ilunin," came the first audible words from the mouth of the creature named Ilunin.