Second Place Winner (December 2024) "Pathfinder"

Genre: fantasy

I was young back then, but I still remember those happy times, free from the fear and dread the future nights would bring. Back then, I used to climb the small hill with my Grandma every evening and watch the sun slowly disappearing beyond the mountains as we shared the sweet berries I'd collected during the day. My silly two-legged form was neither strong nor did it protect me well from the elements, so only the youngest among us bothered to take it. With time, most of us came to realise that the endless cuts and bruises just weren't worth the few sweet treats we could gather, and as we grew older, we forgot how to change our form. But back then, I was still young and fond of berries and enjoyed exploring all the placces a unicorn couldn't get to.

Even though the forests had already become unnaturally quiet by then, and the weave was so twisted and broken in some places that often lost my way home during my adventures when I couldn't use it to navigate, I didn't really mind it. I adapted to it, like my kin always did when something unexpected appeared in the flow of life. I started to use the landmarks and smells to find my way instead, never expecting that those silly games would one day save my life and the lives of the others.

I spent most of my time with my Grandma, learning all the songs and stories a keeper should know. It was a daunting task, and even if I loved my Grandma dearly, I would have preferred to spend my time running freely with my friends rather than listen to her endless explanations of what every story meant and what we could learn from it. But my mane was marked with soft grey spots, a sign that my destiny was to become a keeper, and so I stayed with her regardless of my inner wishes.

Now, I wish those happy times with her had filled all my childhood memories, but sadly, the flow took me in another direction. A few days before I was ready to dream my adult name, my father disappeared. I stayed alone, preparing myself for the Dream, wondering which one of my ancestors would lend me her name and offer her blessings. I only learnt about his disappearance when I noticed his absence during the ceremony that would welcome me into adulthood.

I wonder if  Iwould have done anything different had I known about it before I entered that ceremony. I would probably have asked her for help or done some other reckless thing, so maybe it was better that I didn't know about it beforehand. After the dream was over, and I rejoined my kin, his disappearance would become one of the many overwhelming challenges that shocked me to the core. It would take me many years and many sleepless nights to come to peace with and accept it.

I will never forget that moonless night when I entered the dream to find my name. I had dreamt before, but for the first time, I was afraid of what I would find there. My Granda, who would keep me company during the night, tried to lift my mood by retelling all my reckless journeys into the dreams I'd undertaken through the years. She had strictly forbidden me to enter the dream alone, but none of her words brought me any comfort.

I lay on the soft grass and closed my eyes, wondering why I was so afraid, as the dream slowly came to me and eveloped me in the soft, silky darkness that felt so familiar. I had been there many times before, and so I waited patiently for the dream to form around me, feeling the presence of my Grandma and the other keepers who watched on of their kin becoming an adult. Their presence gave me confidence, and I smiled and let my mind wander, wondering which of my great-grandmothers or their sisters would come to me and lend me her name.

With a soft swirl, the silky darkness around me started to form into a dream, awakening my curiosity and bringing memories of wonders I had seen in my previous dreams. I let go of my musings and let the soft darkness swallow me without hesitation.

I could feel the shock of the keepers mixing with my own confusion as I saw my grandpa standing on the stony path leading through the endless barren lands covered in thick, grey mist.

His soft eyes were full of pride and sadness as he looked at me before turning back without a word and starting to walk the steep path

Why had he come? I wondered, but I started to follow him, taking care not to stumble on the uneven ground that shifted constantly under my hooves. None of the stories Grandma had taught me could explain why my dream was so different from any of the other name dreams my kin ever had.

Suddenly, the stones shifted rapidly under my hooves and for a moment, I desperately tried to regain my balance before I fell to the ground. I felt the pain of sharp stones cut through my skin, and overwhelming panic filled my heart as I looked ahead and saw my grandpa disappearing into the thick, grey mist, leaving me alone and helpless in this barren land.

I don't know how long I lay there crying, there is no time in the dream, and, even if there was, without the sun or the moon I had no way to know its flow. I tried to get up, but the ground shifted again, and the small pebbles rolled under my hooves, making me fall again.

It took me many falls to finally give up and lie down and I let my mind drift away to the happy memories of my childhood, in search of warmth and comfort. That's when it came to me that my two-legged form may be better suited for this journey. I smiled at both the happy memories that filled my heart and the realisation that, back then, I would have enjoyed this adventure that letd me to a place where a unicorn could never go. I shiftend my form and carefully stood on wobbly legs, feeling the cold dampness on my bare skin for the first time and the sharp stones that dug deeply into the soles of my feet.

I took a few careful steps and even if everyone of them brought pain and discomfort, it also led me closer to...to what? I shook my head in disbelief as I almost forgot about the purpose of my journey. Who would lend me their name? I wondered as I walked down the stony path. Someone will, I told myself quietly. There wasn't a story I knew of that said otherwise, and Grandma taught me so many of them. Every one of my kin had found their name in their dreams, so I will find it too, I kept telling myself as I shivered under the sudden gust of wind that chilled my mist-damped body.

I wished I could shift my form and be protected from the weather, but it was only the faint smell of smoke carried by the wind that stopped me from doing it and alerted all my senses at once. Before the stars had disappeared from the night sky, wildfire was only one of the few dangers that could hurt us in our land. Most of the time, we could outrun it easily, yet the instinctive fear of it was part of who we were. At least, that's what I thought back then. I still rememver how afraid I was when Grandma told me how to start one and amost forced me to try, saying that as keepers, we needed to preserve all the traditions, even if we didn't understand them. Filled with fear, I tried to argue with her, but to no avail. A tradition so old that all the stories about its origin were lost needed to be respected, she said firmly, and so I learned this art. Now, I remembered the heat the fire gave, heat my body needed so badly that I overcame my fear of it and followed the smoke along the stony path to its source.

I saw Her standing between two bright fires. The heat dispelled the grey mist and created a circle of warmth and comfort, and the shadows cast by the flames danced on her silver mane. She looked at me with eyes full of starlight, brighter than the starry sky in the long-gone days. In those days, my ancestors had followed Her through the starry paths and come to this world to admire the night sky for the first time.

The moment I saw Her, I knew who She was, even if no story had ever described what She looked like and only a few of the oldest songs mentioned Her name. We called Her for what She was to us: Pathfinder.

So, my name is Veena, I thought as I looked back in Her starry eyes.

About the Author

Mara (they/them)  is an autistic and queer writer. For as long as they remember, they have loved to make stories, build fantastical worlds, and spend most of their time there. They never saw themself represented in any of the books they read, and it made them wonder if something was wrong with them. They say that if we don't see ourselves in the stories we read, we somehow don't exist. Years later, with the encouragement of their partner, they started to write the stories they always wanted to read when they were younger.

You can read more of Mara's work on Booksie at https://www.booksie.com/users/mara-tells-stories-302112, or listen to their readings on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/@maratellsstories.