Date: Mon,  7 Aug 95 09:59:09 PDT
Subject: LOG: Kevlan and Berni's Trip to Estenar, Part 9

[Intro]:
Continuing on their journey into the remote hills of Farann Province to 
help Kevlan rediscover his singing voice, Kevlan and Bernadette have 
chosen to leave the Sharr family's skimmer parked atop a high ridge. 
>From there, the two Singers have free-climbed down the side of the 
ridge; Kevlan at Bernadette's urging has brought his gitar, tied 
securely to his back to keep his hands free for climbing. And at the 
bottom of the cliff, the Singers have found themselves on the edge of a 
thickly tangled wood....

----------
Kevlan pauses for a long moment to catch his breath, hunched over
  slightly with his hands supporting him against his knees. At last, he
  stiffly straightens, and peers thoughtfully into the surrounding
  foliage. "Think *pant* we c'n pick a path outta that, Berni?"

Leaning heavily with her back against the solid rock wall they've
  just descended, Bernadette brushes her sweat-damp hair out of her
  eyes and follows Kevlan's gaze. "Well," she begins a little
  breathlessly, as she peers a little closer at the base of the
  trees. "I don't see as it would be a problem...." She pushes off
  from the wall and gazes at the vines tangled among the gnarled
  branches and trunks. "Possibly the only difficult we'd have is
  cuttin' through those vines..."

Quickly regaining his breath, Kevlan muses, approaching one of the
  trees and touching the vines gingerly. He gives a quiet frown at the
  notion of the cutting the plants, then steps back to squint up the
  ridge and note the position of the sun. Bringing out his datapad
  again, he quickly taps into the device and then repockets it. "Gotta
  keep track... " he mutters.

Bernadette, standing beside Kevlan now, looks up at him a bit
  sheepishly. "You didn't think to bring a knife or somethin', did you?"

"What? Oh... " He focuses on Bernadette again, and nods absently as
  he scans the treeline for a good place to start through. "Got me a
  utility knife in mah pocket, with th' compass... ain't sure Ah wanna
  cut anythin', if it'll make... th' forest mad."

Bernadette looks back to the vines and approaches them, touching them
  carefully, attempting to judge the difficulty of passage by leaving
  them unscathed.

Kevlan's voice has dropped to a quiet whisper. He pauses, and peers
  between two of the big trunks. "Thattaway," he says suddenly,
  decisively. "We gotta go thattaway."

With a little start at his sudden exclamation, Bernadette blinks and
  examines the path--or lack thereof--that Kevlan's decided they're
  to take. She looks at Kevlan with just a hint of uncertainty for
  a moment, before she shrugs and strides resolutely towards the
  trunks indicated. "Let's go, then..." she calls over her shoulder
  as her small figure is quickly swallowed by shadow and foliage.

Kevlan seems certain of his choice, though, as he catches up with his
  sweetheart. As the two Singers make their way into the wood, the air
  grows thicker and closer about them, heavy with scents of greenery
  all around. The floral scent they'd noticed before recurs every so
  often, tinging the air with unexpected heady sweetness before seeming
  to vanish again. It grows progressively darker, too, as the canopy of
  treetops high overhead closes in to block out the sunshine; soon, all
  is green-tinged shadows, no matter which direction Kevlan and
  Bernadette look. Every so often, Kevlan pauses, but never long. Once
  or twice his hand strays to the pocket where he's keeping the
  compass, but after a few cursory glances at it, he continues on his
  way.

Despite the speed of his progress, Kevlan seems surprisingly quiet in
  passage. His heavy hiking boots make only the tiniest of snapping
  noises as he treads over fallen twigs; he rarely speaks, as well,
  seeming to be devoting the greatest part of his considerably strong
  senses to scrutinizing every detail of the terrain. After a while,
  it's almost automatic, the way his hand reaches to hold a vine or
  branch out of the way to let Bernadette pass - and when he, too,
  continues on, there are but minimal signs of his having been there.

Time passes. Each immense tree begins to resemble its neighbor, in
  the twilight darkness. The only bright spots of color in the shadows
  are the increasing numbers of tiny, silver-white flowers that curl in
  creepers about the bases of many of the solemn forest giants. With
  the flowers, come greater and longer recurrences of the heady, sweet
  scent.

Bernadette plods along, remaining equally quiet, allowing Kevlan
  to guide them the best he can and avoid getting lost. She sniffs
  the air quietly and whispers "Flowers..." She stops walking and
  looks at her sweetheart. "Kevlan..Fanna said she dreamed about
  flowers...."

Pausing, Kevlan glances first at Bernadette and then at the nearest
  clump of tiny blossoms. "She sure did," he agrees quietly, his voice
  barely noticeable amidst the overwhelming *silence* of the place.
  Distant calls of birds seem almost louder. "She said... the flowers're
  in a 'secret place', and that we hafta go theah... but we hafta be
  careful, too."

Again, he pauses, then grins a little and adds, "They smell nice,
  anyhow. Fanna coulda picked a worse place t' send us to, Ah
  guess.... " And with that, his gaze slightly absent, Kevlan moves off
  again through the trees.

Bernadette hesitates only a moment, looking warily around the forest
  and at the clumps of blooms before she hurries to catch up with
  Kevlan.

"Thought we'd try t' head back towards th' meadah," Kevlan informs Berni
  absently as he strides along through the trees, carefully picking his
  way through bushes and brambles. He occasionally trails his hand along
  trees that he passes, sometimes brushing against some of the
  omnipresent flowers, sometimes simply touching the trees as if
  greeting old friends.

As the two Singers proceed onward, the ground begins to slope downwards,
  ever so slightly, but that is the only indication that the land around
  them is changing. There yet remain the towering trees on all sides,
  the seemingly endless, green shadowy quality of the light, and the
  tiny flowers like starlight against the dark forms of the trunks
  around which they twine. But, no - the flowers are another sign the
  land is changing, for there are increasing numbers of blooms the
  farther Kevlan and Bernadette go into the forest. The air grows heavy
  with the scent, to an extent that troubles symbiont-enhanced senses.

Sticking close behind Kevlan and keeping pace with him, Bernadette
  trails behind, picking her steps carefully. The fragrance of the
  flowers is overwhelming, and the smaller Singer coughs, covering
  her nose and mouth with her hand, trying to filter the scent a
  bit.

Bernadette continues walking, however, her steps slowed slightly
  as she attempts to regulate her breathing in such a way as not to
  inhale too much of the heady-sweet aroma. With a low "Oh..", she
  stumbles and goes down on one knee, reeling a bit.

Hearing the low moan, Kevlan whirls and hastens to Bernadette's side,
  bracing her up in his arms. "Bern' honey?" he asks huskily, his accent
  seeming to have thickened a little. "You 'kay?"

Bernadette leans her slight frame heavily against Kevlan's steadier
  one and nods slowly, blinking and shaking her head as if to clear
  it. She mumbles "I...I'll be okay...just..not used to this, I
  guess." She wrinkles her nose and hoists herself upright again,
  but clings to Kevlan's hand as she starts walking once more, her
  step a little unsteady.

Kevlan eyes Berni concernedly, as he clasps her arm. "Well... if you're
  sure, honey... these flowers're kinda makin' me swimmyheaded... " His
  voice slurs the word "flowers into "flars".

Bernadette nods, as she covers her nose once more with her hand and
  mutters a little urgently, "Let's just try to get out of here, okay?"
  as she tries to increase her pace.

Kevlan frowns, but nods, and looks around as if to reorient himself.
  Still clasping Berni's other hand, he guides her off through the
  trees, his long stride keeping up with hers even as he warns, "Don't
  go too fast, honey... it'll jes' git atcha worse... "

Bernadette slows her pace just a fraction...but not much. "It's too
  sweet..."

Around both Singers, the land continues to slope downwards. The track
  they follow leads down and down, and the gloom under the canopy of
  leaves deepens as the hills - apparently growing closer together,
  though this is difficult to tell - provide extra shadow to block out
  light from the sky above.

Kevlan says "Ah... know, honey... whoa, careful, doncha trip now... "
  He keeps Bernadette from stumbling across a tree root, though his
  reaction time seems to have slowed just a bit. As he steadies her, he
  peers downward along the path. "Ah-Ah-Ah think we gotta go down... "

Her grip tightening in Kevlan's, Bernadette gazes around lifting her
  hand off her nose experimentally. As Kevlan speaks, she gazes up at
  him with wide brown eyes and nods.

The flower scent twines through the air here thickly... almost palpable
  against the skin. As soon as Bernadette drops her hand it creeps
  delicately into her awareness... beckoning thought processes away from
  anything else save its presence.

Bernadette's steps slow until she's stopped completely, her grip on her
  sweetheart's hand loosening until her fingers slip out of his. She
  simply stands, staring blankly, her eyes unfocused, a small, dreamy
  smile on her lips.

Kevlan starts carefully off down the path again. His eyes narrow in
  concentration, and although his movements seem a little slower than
  they should be, he seems more or less alright. But as soon as Berni's
  hand leaves his he starts, and shakes her gently. "Berni! Bern'
  honey...?"

Bernadette blinks and her eyes slowly come back into focus as she looks
  at Kevlan questioningly.

(Has Kevlan's voice changed? It seems to flow oddly, in Berni's hearing,
  almost like water... the syllables he's just uttered blur together
  almost unrecognizably, for an instant. And as she blinks up at him, he
  seems to look a little strange, too, or perhaps that's her vision
  reacting to the flowers?)

Kevlan's voice comes into focus, though, as Berni concentrates.
  "...phased out theah, honey! You 'kay?"
Kevlan tugs at Bernadette's hands. "C'mon now, sweetie... thissaway... "

Bernadette blinks again and draws her brows together, trying to remain
  focused. She relents to Kevlan's tugging and follows him sluggishly,
  gazing around in bewilderment. "Phased out?"

Kevlan nods tightly, worried as he watches the smaller Singer. "Jes'
  standin' theah all dreamylike, Ah don't think you heard me 'tall...
  you jes' keep followin' me, honey, lissen t' me talkin'. We gotta go
  down heah... "

Bernadette nods obediently, trailing along behind Kevlan passively.
  "Gotta go down..." she repeats, her voice having taken on the same
  drawl as his.

Kevlan leads Bernadette along the path, evidently assured of his
  destination. But with every meter down the increasingly shadowed path,
  the flowers grow in thicker and thicker profusion, tiny glints of
  white petals pinpointing the twilight. The air seems turned to down
  with the weight of their scent, almost like pillows or a blanket
  against which one could lie... could rest, and dream.....

Bernadette lags behind Kevlan, her hands dragging in his, and she
  protests weakly with a little yawn "I gotta rest, Kev..." She tries to
  pull her hands loose as she stops walking again and attempts to lower
  herself to the ground.

Kevlan mutters, loudly enough to let Berni hear his voice, "Don't know
  what Fanna's thinkin', least Ah don't _think_ Ah do, but - aww, heck,
  Berni, c'mon now... " He sways a little, as her attempt to curl up
  unbalances him slightly on the sloping ground.

Bernadette tugs her hands again, her tone of voice pleading. "Please,
  Kev...just a li'l nap..."

(As Berni leans closer to some of the flowers encircling the nearest
  tree, their scent enfolds her, caressing her senses teasingly. Soft
  and soothing and sweet... it turns her knees to water as she draws it
  in, but oh, the scent is lovely....)

Once again, Bernadette's hands find their way loose of Kevlan's, and she
  slumps ungracefully into the carpet of flowers with a contented sigh.
  She curls up on her side, closing her eyes.

Kevlan says urgently, "Cain't rest heah, honey! Don't do this... oof..."
  He grunts a little as he tries to hold Berni up, wondering when and
  how her slight body suddenly turned to lead. And as she collapses, he
  clumsily shakes her. "Berni! Bern'dette!"

Bernadette's head rocks a little as he shakes her and she opens her eyes
  a slit, complaining "Just a li'l nap, Kev...Please..." Her hands grasp
  weakly at his arms, as she feebly tries to stop him from shaking her.

Kevlan moves to slide his arms around Bernadette, carefully hauling her
  to her feet.

(He's moving you away from the flowers! Awww... )

With one arm about Berni's waist and one of hers draped over his
  shoulders, he tells her, "Cain't sleep heah, honey, don't know when
  we'll wake up again..."

(Mmmmmmm. His voice sounds so... flowing, just like water.
  What's he saying? It can't be anything too urgent... )

Kevlan starts to lead Bernadette down the sloping path, all the while
  keeping up a stream of words, telling her where to put her feet and
  what roots to avoid. The slope grows more acute under both their feet
  as he leads her....

Bernadette hangs limply, her un-draped arm dangling towards the flowers.
  The fact that she is indeed on her feet does nothing to affect her
  ability to walk, the toes of her boots often getting caught up under
  tree roots. Her gaze is rather vacant, and Kevlan can't be sure if
  she's actually hearing what he's saying.

Abruptly, when Bernadette's foot catches on one particularly large root,
  the two Singers suddenly both go sprawling. Kevlan lets out a shout of
  alarm as he loses his hold on Bernadette, and both of them go tumbling
  down the hill. Flower-vine after flower-vine is bruised by the
  passing, the scent tumbling through their senses as they both crash
  down through the foliage....

Bernadette, roused to her sense somewhat, lets loose with a startled
  scream as she rolls along unable to stop her momentum.

Kevlan hits the bottom of a tree with a disturbing muffled *twang* of
  the strings of the gitar on his back.

Bernadette rolls a few feet farther, stopping abruptly as another large
  root, protruding from the ground, collides with her chest and hips.

Kevlan, face-down where he'd slammed side-first into the tree, pants
  heavily, his eyes clamped shut. "Ow... Star... Lady... oooogh....
  B-Berni?" His words start off slurred but alarm sharpens them
  somewhat, as he starts to weave to his feet to look for Berni. The
  movement makes him wince, and he fumbles around for the gitar,
  suddenly afraid he's broken it....

Bernadette lies on her side, face away from Kevlan, arms curled around
  the offending root. She doesn't move, but she says, her voice tight
  but quiet "I'm here.."

Forgetting the gitar, Kevlan crawls to Berni, touching her hair. "You...
  'kay, honey?"

(The scent... still everywhere. So easy to just lie still... rest... )

Bernadette releases the root and rolls onto her back. There are no
  outward signs of injury to the smaller Singer's frame...but then, her
  clothes might possibly be concealing them. Her voice drifting as the
  scent of the flowers begin to worm their way over her again, she
  mutters "Ow...gotta sleep...let the symbiont...work..."

Kevlan asks worriedly, huskily, "Yah hurt?" He smooths Berni's hair out
  of her eyes, looking for any signs of tears in her clothes, or blood,
  or limbs at an odd angle.

(Why doesn't he just lie still? It's very pleasant here... so soothing.
  Peaceful... no sense of time whatsover... no need to think... )

Under Kevlan's scrutiny, he sees nothing amiss. Bernadette mumbles
  incoherently.

Kevlan pauses, anxiety in his gaze as he watches Bernadette's features
  slacken. Should he leave her here? Glancing about, he frowns softly to
  himself, muttering, "It's heah... " Then, louder, he tells her,
  "Berni, honey, Ah think heah's th' right place... "

Bernadette peers up at Kevlan between bare slits in her eyelids. "What's
  heah?" she slurs heavily, the rest of her body not stirring.

Kevlan caresses her forehead gently and tells her, "Heah's wheah Fanna
  wanted us t' be... Ah gotta git mah voice back heah."

(Whatever could he be talking about? He has his voice... that lovely low
  liquid baritone. Listen to it flow. Fanna must have meant something
  else. Maybe she wanted you to dream. That's a nice thought.... dream
  among the flowers... )

Bernadette mumbles "I c'n hear you, honey...nothin' wrong with your
  voice..." She curls onto her side, a brief wince crossing her face,
  perhaps caused by bruises acquired in her collision.

Kevlan frowns, noticing the wince as well as the words. "Doncha 'membah?
  Fanna come t' see us, this mornin'. Hadda dream. She tol' me t' come
  lookin' 'cause Ah gotta sing again. Aww, honey, you do 'membah,
  doncha?" Kevlan keeps touching Berni as he speaks, brushing his hand
  along her face, trying to shake her a little without hurting her.

Bernadette blinks again as she tries to concentrate. "Gotta sing,
  Kev..."

Kevlan nods, brightening, grinning encouragingly at Berni. "You _do_
  'membah! You 'membah Fanna dreamin', raht?"

Blinking a little harder, frowning a little more in concentration,
  trying to shake the effect of the heavy floral scent, Bernadette
  struggles up onto her elbows, wincing once more as the movement
  causes some discomfort across her ribs. The lance of pain, however,
  helps break through the perfume-induced haze, and Berni's eyes
  clear a little more. "Yeah...I remember now," she begins
  haltingly. "Fanna says you gotta sing..."

Grinning hopefully at Berni, Kevlan glances around, studying the place
  into which he and his sweetheart have fallen.

It's lighter here than it was further up the hill, surprisingly. Some
  few wan beams of sunlight thread down through the canopy of leaves,
  lifting something of the twilight gloom that permeates this forest.
  Close by, intertwined with the heavy scent of the flowers, is the
  scent of water, accompanied by a soft gurgling.

Straightening suddenly, an intent look in his blue eyes, Kevlan rises
  and darts towards the sound of the water. "Theah," he breathes softly.
  "Ah hafta be theah... "

Still dizzy, and not having altogether gathered her wits about her
  again, Bernadette gasps and gets to her feet as quickly as her
  bruises and her head will allow. "Kevlan, wait..." she croaks,
  her head swimming; but she lurches after her fiance, determined
  to stay on her feet and coherent to accompany Kevlan to the
  water's edge.

Kevlan does not go far, though moving through the short distance he's
  covered seems like swimming through water, with the effects of the
  flowers confusing the thoughts. But Bernadette is able to catch up
  with him, where he has stopped at the edge of a small pool.

Here, a waterfall bubbles down from shadowed heights above, and the air
  is somewhat clearer, somewhat purer, with a window through the leaves
  through which breezes can dispel the heavy floral scent. The flowers
  are still visible everywhere, but at least by the water, it is
  possible to think in the midst of their presence.

Kevlan, though, moves determinedly towards a particular clump of the
  blooms, kneels down before the bush, and carefully pushes the flowers
  aside. He blinks slightly as he does so - perhaps the scent's getting
  to him, too - but immediately looks back over his shoulder to make
  sure Bernadette is following him. And as he does, his face is suddenly
  lit with wonder.

"C'mere, honey... look at this... "

Bernadette manages to wade her way over to Kevlan's side and
  tries to peer over his shoulder through the parted flowers.
  With a small frown of confusion, she mutters "What am I
  lookin' at, Kevlan?"

In between the tangle of vines and flowers, between Kevlan's hands,
  there is a glint of something delicate and silvery, not quite as tall
  as the kneeling Singer. As Kevlan carefully holds aside the blooms,
  he nods softly towards the revealed shape: a sculpture of some kind,
  apparently rooted solidly into the ground. Like a spray of water, or
  like the living leaves that surround it, the wrought silver shape
  seems to flow upward, culminating in a small bowl formed of joined
  leaf-shapes at the top. In this lies accumulated dirt and bits of
  leaf; these Kevlan gently brushes aside, revealing an engraved shape
  in the base of the bowl: a symbol of a crescent moon, a tree, and a
  single star....

[End log.]