The Walk

He takes my hand and leads me outside. Under the moonlight, we walk into the woods. It should be near morning, but the moon still lingers. We come to the bank of a secluded lake. The moon reflects on the water, lighting up the lily pads and their flowers. On the fragrant flowers are butterflies.

It is extremely beautiful. It reminds me of the night I was sitting on a dock, dangling my feet in the water. This poem just infiltrated my mind, so I decided to share it with Vincent.

 “I go into the night. 

Seeking someone to hear my plight. 

I feel the world closing in around me. 

I leave behind the rest of humanity.

I walk further into the night. 

Leaving everything behind to make me feel alright. 

I find myself heading out to the place where no one speaks. 

As I halt within the night, I scan the trees around me. 

I crouched down and felt the earth pulsing under my hand.

There is a power here that I wish to understand. 

As I wait within the night, I send my senses outward. 

I feel the life around me, I'm overcome with a sense of knowing. 

The trees, the grass, the water, all give me peace. 

As I listen in the night, I gaze up at the stars. 

May the powers hear my troubles out, and give me answers to my queries. 

My life has made me so weary. 

I embrace the calm that settles over me. 

I thank the powers for their aid and for the wisdom I have gained. 

Each time I go into the night, I enjoy nature's delights. 

The air, the soil, the water, the foliage, and the life that dwells here all bring me strength and rid the darkness by the grace of their light. 

Even in the darkest of nights, one can embrace such delights. 

There is much beauty every night.”

He asks, “Was that one of yours?” I nod. He thinks for a moment, “It's a very Pagan concept because of how aattunedwith nature you are. You're likely part witch, or your soul just identifies with it.”

I have to ask, “Would that complicate things with us?”

He tries to reassure me, “What you are won't change whatever made the connection between us. It just makes you dangerous, and more of a target, once you learn to control your powers.”

I say, “We don't even know what I can do.”

He squeezes my hand, “Well, I can test your vampiric abilities, and I bet the wolf can see what, if any, shifter ones you may have.”

“As for witch stuff, do I just find spell books and give it a whirl, like in Harry Potter?” I ask.

He chuckles, “Fuck if I know.”

I laugh, “Aww, where did Mr. Prim and Proper go?”

He looks at the lake and then says, “Let’s test your speed.” He runs across the water, picks a flower from a lily pad, and returns, twirling it between his fingers as he smirks.

I sigh, “Um, I doubt I can walk on water.”

He smirks as he puts the flower behind my ear, “Try it.”

I look at him skeptically, “How do I know you just don't want to get me all wet?”

He chuckles, “You don't.”

I reply, “If I get wet, I will find a way to get back at you.”

He winks, “I don't doubt it. Perhaps that's what I want.” I select the closest one to try for. I think to myself to be fast and walk on water. I give it a go. I managed to get to the flower and back without getting wet, just up to my ankles. He kisses my cheek, “Not bad. Maybe with those years, or if you could turn, you'll be able to avoid getting wet.”

“Well, this proves that I have some speed, at least.”

He nods, “Yes, and that's good. Stay here. I'll be right back.” He sprints to the house, puts a

record on, and returns.  He instructed me, “Now, concentrate on your hearing, and tell me what you hear playing back at the house.”

I close my eyes and try to block out everything, trying to concentrate on the music from the house. I hear the blood flowing in my veins and his heartbeat; I try to stifle that noise. Then I hear the music. “I hear music,” I state in astonishment.

“Good, describe it,” he says.

I think for a second, “Opera, I think. William Tell Overture, or at least sounds similar.”

He smiles, “Very good. You are right. The opera was a comedy composed by a famous Belgian, named André Grétry. So, you have our keen hearing.”

I rub my head, “It makes my head hurt a bit, like I have a mild headache.”

He asks, “Do you trust me?”