Beyond the Tree's

The village of Tall Tree Cliff buzzed with the symphony of the forest. Birds chirped in the canopy above, their melodies intertwining with the rustle of leaves and the gentle creak of wooden walkways swaying in the breeze.

The village was a marvel of engineering, perched high in the arms of ancient trees whose trunks were as wide as houses. Rope bridges connected the homes, and lanterns hung from branches, casting a warm glow even in daylight.

It was a place of beauty, safety, and tradition—a haven where generations had lived and thrived.

For Mei, it was home. But it was also her prison.

She stood at the edge of the village, her small frame dwarfed by the towering trees.

Her satchel hung over one shoulder, its weight a constant reminder of the journey ahead. Inside were the essentials: a change of clothes, a waterskin, a few strips of dried meat, and a small wooden dolphin pendant carved by Uncle Ron years ago, which hung around her neck.

She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the carving, tracing the grooves of its fins and tail. It was a simple trinket, but to Mei, it symbolized everything she longed for—the sea, the unknown, and the freedom to discover who she was.

Behind her, Uncle Ron and Aunt Amy stood silently, their faces etched with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

They had raised Mei since she was a baby, found abandoned at the base of one of the great trees. Though they had never been able to have children of their own, they had poured all their love and care into her.

And now, they had to let her go.

"Mei," Aunt Amy said softly, her voice trembling.

She stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Are you sure about this? The world out there… it's not like the stories. It's dangerous."

Mei turned to face them, her dark eyes steady. "I know, Aunt Amy. But I can't stay here forever. I need to see what's out there. I need to find out who I am."

Aunt Amy pressed her lips into a thin line. What are you saying? You're still a child, she thought.

She glanced at Ron, hoping he might say something to change Mei's mind.

But he remained silent, his weathered face creased with emotion.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Mei's shoulder. His grip was firm but gentle, the calluses on his palm a testament to years of hard work.

"I know you're strong, Mei," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But be careful out there. Alright?"

Mei nodded, her throat tight. "I will, Uncle Ron."

Aunt Amy pulled her into a tight embrace, her tears dampening Mei's hair. "You'll always have a home here, no matter where you go. Remember that."

"I will," Mei whispered, hugging her back. "I promise."

When they finally pulled apart, Uncle Ron handed her a small pouch. "Provisions for the journey," he said. "And a little something extra, just in case."

Mei opened the pouch to find a handful of dried fruit, a few coins, and a small, intricately carved wooden pendant shaped like a tree.

"It's a carving your Aunt Amy made," Ron explained. "For remembrance."

She looked up at them, her eyes shining. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Take care of yourself, Mei," Uncle Ron said, his voice gruff but warm. "And remember, no matter how far you go, you're always our daughter."

Mei took a deep breath, steeling herself. She gave them one last smile, a smile that held all the love and gratitude she felt but couldn't put into words. Then she turned and began her descent down the winding path that led away from the village.

The path was narrow and steep, carved into the side of the great tree. Mei moved with the ease of someone who had climbed these trees a thousand times before. Her hands brushed against the rough bark, not for balance but out of habit, as if greeting an old friend.

The forest was her playground, her sanctuary. She knew every root, every branch, every hidden trail. She had spent her childhood exploring its depths, climbing to the highest canopies, and swimming in the crystal-clear streams that wound through the undergrowth. The forest was a part of her, and she was a part of it.

As she descended, the air grew cooler, the scent of moss and damp earth filling her nostrils.

She could hear the distant rush of water—a river she had followed countless times, its currents as familiar to her as the sound of her own heartbeat.

The forest was alive around her, its rhythms steady and comforting.

But today, it felt different. Today, she wasn't here to play or explore. Today, she was leaving.

When she reached the base of the great tree, she paused.

The forest stretched out before her, a sea of green and brown. The path ahead was one she had walked many times, but this time, it felt unfamiliar—not because she didn't know where it led, but because she knew where it would take her: away from everything she had ever known.

She glanced up at the towering canopy one last time, her heart heavy but determined. I'll make you proud, she silently vowed, her thoughts carried away by the wind.

Then she squared her shoulders and walked on, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

The journey to the galley ship was long, but Mei moved through the forest with the confidence of someone who had spent her entire life navigating its twists and turns. She knew which roots to avoid, which paths to take, and where the hidden shortcuts lay.

As she walked, memories flooded her mind.

She remembered the stories Uncle Ron used to tell her about the sea—stories of vast, endless waters and creatures that glided beneath the waves.

She remembered the way Aunt Amy would hum softly as she cooked, the smell of herbs and spices filling their home.

She remembered the festivals, the laughter, the sense of belonging.

But she also remembered the questions that had haunted her for as long as she could remember. Who were my parents? Why did they leave me? And what is out there, beyond the safety of the village?

The questions had gnawed at her, growing louder with each passing year. She had tried to ignore them, to focus on the life she had. But the more she tried, the more she felt like a bird in a cage, its wings aching to stretch and soar.

And so, she had made her decision. She would leave. She would find the answers she sought, no matter the cost.

When she finally reached the galley ship, she paused. The vessel was massive, its wooden hull towering above the water. The deck was bustling with activity, sailors and applicants moving about with purpose.

Mei took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was it. The beginning of her new life.

Before boarding the ship, she opened her satchel and took out the pouch her uncle had given her. She held the wooden tree pendant for a moment, then fastened it around her neck.

Farewell, Aunt Amy and Uncle Ron, she thought, gazing at the distant forest. I'll be back. I promise.

She stepped onto the ship, her boots thudding against the wooden deck. The air was thick with the scent of salt and the faint tang of rust from the ship's iron fittings. Around her, other examinees milled about, their voices a low hum of excitement and nervous energy. Some cast curious glances in her direction, their eyes lingering on her small frame and the determination in her eyes.

Mei ignored them, her focus sharp and unwavering.

She handed her ID to a sailor, a burly man with a sun-weathered face and a thick beard.

The sailor glanced at the document, gave her a once-over, and nodded. "You're good to go. Find a spot and wait for further instructions."

Mei nodded and made her way across the deck. She found a spot near the mast, her eyes scanning the crowd. She didn't know what lay ahead, but she was ready. She had left her home, her family, and everything she had ever known. And now, she would face the unknown with courage and determination.