a darkling creature stirs in the evening.
Rain falls, in pitter-patter patterns on the ground above her head, and she feels the damp drip of it seeping into her skin; pale as bone in moonlight and opaque, a frosted window revealing so much more than a mere human.
She may well have been human once, of the breathing, bleeding, dying kind, but that was a long time ago. So long it might have been a dream. Now the human form lingers only to hold the vast concept she embodies. She is a cypher, a symbol; both reminder and reassurance to the humans that still live out their short lives Above.
The rain is her call to action; an echo of all the tears and torn hearts that have cried out for her through the dark Winter months.
She has been gone a long time.
And despite their fervent beliefs she is not all knowing; she is not the one who has shepherded them through the dark time. She has no idea what awaits her on the surface.
How hard the frosts?
How long the nights?
How deep the depressions?
All secrets denied to her as she slumbered in the cold Earth; secrets it is now her job to soothe and make right. No easy task, for the human heart (as she once knew) is complex and contrary and requires more than sunlight and soaked roots to be placated.
So it is with some reluctance that she – the darkling bride, draped in her rootweb finery – hears the call of the season above, feels the cries of the people in her soul and responds. Frozen limbs stir slowly and it is only the knowledge that the snowdrops are rising with her that coaxes the spark of her heart into flame.
It would be so much easier to remain asleep (and yet…)
It will be a gradual, heavy ascent into the light, into life; one she is achingly familiar with, for she has never ignored the summons… and she never will.