DISCONTINUED - Shapeshifter

4

And the bank, oh the Bank, it was governed by the sternest but trustworthy person in the street, nicknamed the Bird. She was an old woman with thick curly black hair, untameable and her eyes would always be concealed and shadowed by her wild woolly fringe. She had a roman nose (the most iconic feature to her nickname), thin lips and her skin pure light caramel, her skin persevered in such a pristine way that pores were non-existence on her flesh. Her conserved features made her appear extraordinarily young for her age. Yet despite her easy-going-like appearance, the bird was no cookie to mess with. She was highly respected by all that lived in the town and was the backbone of all court and order; she was the gracious leader of the village and put aside romance and informal relationships for the welfare of her people, taking no bullshit that would get in her way of truth and the well-being of the village.

Tree remembered all the people, he couldn't recall how he remembered them or why- but the statement still stood sentinel. In some past life or mind, he. Knew. Everyone. Yet, his memories of how and why were vague, crippled blurs appearing incoherently like hazy figures in a dense fog. However, voices still veiled over the confound memories, identifiable, and in the back of Tree's mind he knew them but didn't know how he himself contributed to the remembrance. Where did he come into the story? He hadn't a clue. 

Suddenly, Tree bore in mind he had dumbly stood in the obscurity of night, stationary and disturbing unmoving for a couple of minutes. Seemingly lost in the rich nostalgia, he forgot his real intentions why he endeavoured to visit such an emotionally damaging place yet who could judge him? To sink in the richness and harmony of the past and how times seemed so much easier and better than the present.

Delicately, Tree sheepishly patted the centre of his crown, his finger hovering aloft the small girl form for a few seconds as he truly began to distrust his own decisions in concealing the truth before shaking her stomach with the tip of his finger for her awakening. Loud grunts and bitter groans followed as small (Your Name) began to wake up, the wolf beside her distributing the same turmoil at angry snarls. Tree voice rumbled, eager to move along, "Come on (Your Name) wake up."

More groans, "...5 more minutes..." (Your Name) muttered and sank her face deeper into Tree's peculiarly luxuriant locks that benefitted the equivalent comfort of 34 mattresses, without the pea of course. 

"You had an hour to wake up, so shut your yapper and up you get." Tree rolled his eyes as he plucked the girl from his hair along with her mongrel with his forefinger and thumb: almost like picking an eyebrow hair. The girl waved her arms around in annoyance as she pouted, her body reluctant to wake up and compared to Cub, much more slower as the puppy was swift on his feet...show off...

After much struggle... the girl rubbed her eyes and begrudgingly opened her eyes, irritation quickly dispersing at the stunning sight of the fallen village, buried in relics and decay. Irritation turned to amazement, amazement to curiosity and curiosity to uneasiness at the ominous atmosphere the place appeared to forebode, an unfamiliar feeling like they were being watched, every move and every breath. Yet to the small girl, in a bizarre way, she felt like she belonged in the place for deep in her heart, it surged intimacy like the blood flowing through her veins. Physically and mentally, the place foretold an odd feeling like a forgotten memory or thought finally returning, she felt... at home... despite all the buildings surrounding were crumbling to rubble.

Tree lowered the girl onto feet on the cracked stone of the town's pavement and as she wandered deeper into the ruins Tree settled down himself and with cross legs watched as his sweetheart glanced around, full of turmoil. She had never seen such a place like this.

"...Tree... what is this place?..." (Your Name) gazed at him with wide questioning orbs, glistening with wonder but void of happiness. Tree fixed maroon eyes looked down at (Your Name), who was barely the size of his thumb and with a couple of seconds of a deathly silence replied,