”You will,” she replies coolly, ”whether it remains the forest or a new place you find. We all have our serenity somewhere.” The Jungle was her happiness, her heart, but there was nothing truly serene about it. It screamed for a strong family of women that could endure its untamed wilderness; there were challenges every day and it was a world of sheer ferocity. Here, the forests are tranquil and allow one to succumb to their thoughts; it’s the opposite of her Jungle, but she is learning to welcome it.
But the Jungle is slipping farther and farther away into Beqanna’s history. Soon, there will be generations that never knew it existed, children who will never know that their mother or grandmother stemmed from the fierce Jungle. Nayl can only mimic its power so much on the coastline, but the new landscape softens the image of the women. It adds a lull to their name that had never been there before. ”Missing it is an understatement,” she sighs as she blinks away the memories that she has so desperately clutched onto, never wanting to truly let go. How long has it been already? Years. But how? Time is flying nearly too fast, but one hardly even notices when they do not age. When she breathes in the nectar-sweet air, she no longer smells the exotic flowers, but now a saltiness that calls her back to the ocean. ”I think you would enjoy it in Nerine,” because there are few that have said otherwise. True, many of the originals have left, but they simply disappeared – they didn’t abandon Nerine for elsewhere.
Nayl’s heart leaps back to her home, but she doesn’t yet turn to head to the coast. Castile, bubbling with curiosity, asks questions of Marjorie’s own history. Her stomach clenches briefly when she hears about the Dale. There were never close ties that bound her to the land; she never held great loyalty to it, but it was nonetheless a land where her family lived. A reminiscent smile shadows her pretty face. ”My grandfather lived in the Dale for years. His name is Tiphon, but he has since disappeared.” An easy shrug rolls across her shoulders, pitying the idea of one less family member, but they had never been truly close. ”He lived in Ischia, an island north of here, and helped in creating it, but has since vanished.” Castile listens to all of this, capturing the meager tale of his great-grandfather and memorizing his name before glancing back to Marjorie. ”It sounds wonderful there – a lot of space to run.” Oddly enough, even with wings sprouting from his shoulders, Castile still prefers to run across the hills and sand dunes at home. ”I’m sorry Beqanna ate the Dale like it ate the Jungle.” It was long before his time; he can only imagine how frightening – how heart-wrenching – it had been to see their entire world come crashing down.
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