In a practiced motion, Cassius looked at his wristwatch — though didn’t really pay attention to what it said — before taking the compass hanging around his neck and doing the same. Double-checking that time was still keeping an even pace was comfortable. Thumbing the cracked watch face, he found himself trying for a moment to remember where he’d gotten it. When he’d gotten it, even. It eluded him, but he wasn’t bothered, it just meant that it must not have been awfully important. He wouldn’t deny that he’d been restless lately, even if he wasn’t sure why. So when Lenore told him that he’d been chosen to traverse the bottom of the lake, refusing never crossed his mind. Now she was handing him a couple of flat rocks, each the size of her palm, to add to the ones already in his pockets. She gave him the strange look typical for when he was lost in his head, like she wanted to say something, but seemed to think better of it.
Cassius was painting when Lenore had stopped by to tell him the news, meaning he failed to notice the way she fidgeted through the whole conversation. Well, it might be generous to call it a conversation. Cassius was listening…mostly. There was something about crops dying, sickness, someone wanting him to talk to a lake creature. The lake creature was new! Made sense they’d want someone to talk to it; that was the neighborly thing to do, after all. He didn’t respond, though, too focused on his painting. The lark was turning out well. Everything he painted was blue and green watercolor, which meant the shapes tended to blend together into one mangled narrative. Still, there was something missing, he just didn’t know what. So when Lenore announced that she was going to make some tea, he waved dismissively. She was like a sister to him, but she could still be a bit much.
When Lenore returned with a tray of tea, Cassius had given up on his painting, resigning himself to the knowledge that the answer to what it was missing would come in due time. Meanwhile, maybe he’d ask Lenore to sit for another portrait. He was pulled from his thoughts when Lenore shoved a teacup into his hands, almost causing it to spill, before flinging herself onto the divan next to where Cassius remained seated by his easel. He sipped the tea as she stared him down. “So?”
“So what?” Cassius asked. “I’ll do it. They probably just want me to get out more. Besides, I know what it’s like to be new to town!”
Lenore sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Fine. You’re an idiot, but fine.” They had walked in silence to the lake just outside the village, and Cassius had begun filling his pockets with large stones. Lenore sat and watched the lake for some time before deciding to help. It didn’t take long to gather what they supposed was a sufficient number of stones, which threatened to tear the seams of his pockets. Cassius realized that it may have been a better idea to grab a bag to put the stones in, but it was a bit late for that now.
With a quick hug and a smile, Cassius turned away from Lenore, oblivious to the tears in her eyes. Walking into the lake was like easing into a warm bath, soothing and inviting. Turning back when the water was up to his waist, he gave a final wave. For a moment, he thought it would be a bit lonesome in the lake, not being able to see the birds flitting around or hear their joyful chirping as they worked, but he figured it would give him something to look forward to upon his return. Besides seeing Lenore, of course.
With that, Cassius waded further into the water until the floor of the lake dropped out from beneath his feet. He was surprised by how slow his descent was, and how the water didn’t sting his eyes. It was pleasant, really, how the blue-green reminded him of his paintings, and it made the fall seem more like floating.
His lungs didn’t sting from the lack of air, and he was too preoccupied with his awe of all the fish — or as he preferred to call them, lake birds — darting about, avoiding the path of his descent. He wondered if they might sing too, but when he reached a hand out to one, it fled. It did come back a few moments later, though, to circle about his head. Or maybe that was a different one that just looked similar. Either way, he welcomed the company, brief though it was.
When he finally hit the floor of the lake, he stumbled and fell — really more glided — to a sitting position on the uneven sand floor. Cassius looked up to see how far he had fallen. Above him was a bright mirror of a ceiling, all the way where the surface was. It seemed very far. He wasn’t surprised — but was disappointed — that he couldn’t see himself in the reflection.
After a while longer of simply enjoying the scenery, Cassius hoisted himself to his feet. Looking around, he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure where he was supposed to be going. There hadn’t been any map or instructions as to where the creature would be. Maybe no one from town knew where the creature had made its home. As far as he knew, no one really came down here, so it made sense they wouldn’t be familiar enough with the area to give proper directions. Cassius frowned to himself, unsatisfied with referring to this new neighbor as a “creature.” It seemed terribly rude, and that bothered him. He resolved to refer to the new neighbor as the “lake friend” from now on, or just “friend.”
He took a long look at his compass. It spun for a few seconds before settling, informing Cassius he was facing west. That seemed as good of a direction to start his search as any, but he’d always had a bit of a preference for east, personally. Maybe it had to do with a love of sunrises more than sunsets. He hadn’t given it much thought, really, but decided that since he didn’t know where he was supposed to go, there was no reason not to go east instead, so he swiveled around until he faced due east, and set off at a casual pace.
“Hello!” Cassius’ voice echoed off the rocky walls of the cave. A little ways away, he could see someone, mostly see-through and floating. In short, they didn’t look quite — as some would say — “all there.” The ghost seemed confused at the casual greeting, turning to look at Cassius. “Are you dead, by chance?” He asked, quite content to carry on an entire conversation himself. While he had noticed that this person could very well be a ghost, he was never one to presume. The ghost nodded. “That’s unfortunate. My condolences!”
As most anyone would be, the ghost was at a loss, still only nodding, slower this time. The ghost even extended its hand, and before its intentions could be revealed, Cassius balked at himself, slapping his own cheek for effect more than anything. “Oh of course! Wherever are my manners?” With that, he did his best to shake the ghost’s hand. Never mind that one cannot shake hands with a ghost.
The ghost’s face, which had been mostly devoid of emotion — save for traces of intense confusion — seemed to finally morph at this final display. Though only small bubbles escaped its mouth, as the ghost curled in on itself, it was evident it was laughing. Cassius smiled, even if he didn’t know what the ghost found so funny. The ghost carried on laughing until it fell to the rocky floor and faded, leaving behind only a stone, carved into the shape of a lark. Cassius picked the stone bird up and decided that instead of adding it to his pockets, he would carry it to make sure it wouldn’t get chipped.
Moving deeper into the cave, the sunlight slowly waned, leaving Cassius to follow the winding string of light that made its way through the cave in front of him. He ran a hand along the rough wall as he walked, until he felt something nudge at his shoulder opposite the wall. Turning, he found the responsible party to be a doe. He noticed that her two back legs were missing, and her exposed pelvic bone was hanging a bit crooked, but she seemed to manage alright. Her opalescent eyes stared into his and she nudged his shoulder again.
Cassius smiled at the doe and gave its head a couple gentle pets. “Your eyes are very pretty! Would you care to accompany me? I was sent down here to find someone, but I wasn’t told where to look. I hope I’m going the right way.” The doe made a reverberating cry, somewhat strangled, and somewhere between birdsong and the howl of a coyote. Cassius was certainly no expert, but it sounded like an agreement. He gave a sharp nod and continued walking, the doe keeping a stilted pace beside him.
As they went, the cave continued to get darker, but as it did, the doe’s eyes began to glow, giving off just enough light to see by. It made the doe seem a little sad, but Cassius hardly noticed, preoccupied with the lovely way the light cast lively shadows and how it seemed to shift its vibrant color from one moment to the next.
Eventually, Cassius could hear distant familiar birdsong. The path began to widen, and he could see light a ways down. The closer they got to the light, the fainter the doe became, ending up as transparent as the ghost had been just before disappearing. When the doe stopped in its tracks, just before the light, it gave a low whine, catching Cassius’ attention. He turned and waved before continuing on, not seeing the doe disappear, leaving only a pair of opals behind, their glow faint and muddled against the rocks.
Squeezing through the narrow opening and into the blinding light, it took several seconds for Cassius’ eyes to adjust. When they finally did, he found himself to be on the edge of what appeared to be a fossilized garden, bathed in sunlight from a large hole in what could be called the ceiling. The birdsong continued as he’d heard it in the tunnel, but louder, echoing off the walls. Despite that, there were no lake birds, nor any regular birds to be seen.
He stepped further in, transfixed by the stone plants. The garden was very similar to gardens he’d seen in town, or even his own — if an unkept patch of wildflowers and tall grass could be called a garden — and he found himself tempted to pick a stone flower to take back to Lenore. By the time he had considered it a moment, however, he’d already dismissed it, thinking it would be a shame to ruin even a small part of such a lovely place.
As he approached the center of the garden, careful to not stray from the path — lest he trample some unfortunate stone grass — he found a statue sitting on a bench. She seemed to be looking down into her hands, cupped close to her heart, as though meant to be holding something. If he looked closely, he was sure he could see a tear partway down her cheek, and the way it caught the sunlight made it clear that it wasn’t stone.
More on instinct than anything, Cassius took the stone lark and placed it in the statue’s hands, making sure the bird was facing her. He hoped it would cheer her up, if only a bit.
Though she didn’t stir, as Cassius realized he’d been expecting, the birdsong quieted and he could swear he felt a familiar warmth radiating from the statue. If he looked closely, she seemed to be smiling, even if she did still look sad. Something slow clicked in his mind at the combination, and he could feel himself starting to cry. He sat on the ground in front of the statue, looking at his watch, then his compass. His compass didn’t spin and his watch didn’t tick, and he leaned against the statue’s legs. One by one he took the rocks out of his pockets, never feeling any lighter. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for leaving.”