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Isma tapped on Ogrim’s abdomen gently. When he didn't wake up, she shook him slightly. Still, he showed no signs of moving.
“You must be having a mighty fine dream, Ogrim,” she said, sighing. “If only I could see what goes on in your head.”
Isma rested her head atop his abdomen, feeling it rise and fall. Her mind wandered as she waited for him to awake.
Ogrim was a bit of an oaf, but she loved him nonetheless. They’d known each other for quite some time, they were childhood friends, and had trained together to join the ranks of the king’s great knights.
As children, they were raised on the outskirts of the Capital. Their families were poor, but content. They led simple lives until adulthood, where their battle training began.
Before that, Isma’s dream was to open up a flower shop. She wanted to own it with Ogrim, of course, but she would never admit that much. She was obsessed with the natural beauty of life, and grew fruits and vegetables for her community. Right now, she could've been tending to a store, but she wasn’t.
In all honesty, Isma had given up on her dream for Ogrim. Love does interesting things, and that was what gave her the intention to become a knight.
Isma was heartbroken when she found out Ogrim was moving. He spoke of being a knight when they were younger, his mind filled with dreams of glory and honor. Most bugs seeked that in the Colosseum, Ogrim thought himself to be above that, and seeked it from the king.
Her dream was crushed by Ogrim's decision. She had underestimated him, and said that he wouldn't make it out there. Ogrim had just shook his head and laughed. Did he know the reason why Isma had said what she did?
Ogrim began to shuffle underneath her; he was waking up. Isma lifted her head, allowing Ogrim the ability to sit up and look at her.
He blinked once, twice, then smiled. “Isma!” he exclaimed, his voice booming. Her heart fluttered, and she wrapped her delicate arms around his body.
“Ogrim!” she shouted, matching his energy. “I did it! The King has granted us rights to go to Greenpath!” Isma could not contain her excitement. Though her goals had changed, her love for botany had stayed with her throughout the years.
“Actually? That's perfect!” Ogrim cheered with a booming voice. Unlike Isma, he had never seen what was outside his home city aside from the palace he currently resided in.
“We ought to leave now though,” she suggested. “The Stags may be fast, but traffic is going to increase soon.”
Ogrim nodded. “That's a good idea. I'm ready to leave now too.” Ogrim lifted himself up, towering over Isma. Surprisingly, he had been shorter than her when he was younger. Isma suspected his parents put steroids in his food.
Isma dragged Ogrim over to the Stag Station. It was one used only by the royals and the nobles, so it was less trashy than the other ones across the kingdom. The station was also less busy than the other ones. Most of the bugs that lived in the palace saw no need to ever leave it, which meant it was hardly in use.
Ogrim commanded the stag when they approached it. The bug nodded its head, and let the two knights climb aboard.
Ogrim marvelled at the wonder that was Greenpath. It was one of the two lands that remained mostly untouched by the Pale King, the other being Deepnest.
As they traversed the land, Isma found herself essentially babysitting Ogrim. Almost every sentence that came out of her mouth was “Ogrim! Don't touch that!” or “Ogrim! Don’t eat that!”.
She had no one to blame but herself, though. Her lover lacked most…social niceties. That was what captivated her, though. She knew his parents taught him proper etiquette, but he didn't follow them whatsoever. Isma did not know a single creature out there like her boyfriend, and that was part of his charm.
She had places to go though, so she ended up dragging him by his arms. “Alright you big oaf, I have something to show you!”
“What is it you need to show me, Isma?” Ogrim asked. She seemed to be in a rush, which was out of character for someone like her. Her approach to everything was to logically plan things out and take it slow, so her hurried state concerned Ogrim.
“You’ll see in a moment, I promise!” she shouted, picking up her pace from a jog to a run. Ogrim was struggling to keep up; Isma was agile and slim, while he was strong and large. As she weaved her way through the vines and thorns, Ogrim had to force himself through them, leaving the skin not covered by his shell scratched up.
As they progressed, the shrubbery grew thicker and thicker, and the light waned. He tripped on his feet a few times, and when he looked back again, he couldn't see anything. His only guide was Isma, who still had her hand wrapped around his arm.
In a moments notice, they burst out into a grove, and the light was almost blinding. Ogrim gasped as he looked around, above him, he could hear maskflies whistling, and the leaves danced upon the trees that held them. The flowers exalted colors Ogrim only saw on clothing for nobles, exalting the beauty of the scene.
Isma twirled with glee, the expression on her face was the happiest he had ever seen. “Isn’t it wondrous? These vivid hues, the light from the sun above, the music of the creatures, isn't it just so beautiful?”
Ogrim had no words, he needed none. Isma knew the answer before he spoke it. She walked toward him and then nuzzled her head against his thorax.
“I love you,” she whispered. Ogrim rested his head on hers, before whispering the same words back.
Isma let go, and gazed up into Ogrim’s eyes. She smiled before moving out towards the center of the grove to sit down. Ogrim followed her, and the two sat together, speaking no words. Just enjoying the moment was enough for them.
Isma woke up to the sound of Ogrim shuffling around. She lazily opened her eyes, the brightness of the grove almost blinding. She didn't remember going to sleep, and she had no idea how long she had been out for.
“G’mornin, Isma,” Ogrim yawned. He was already on his feet, but he was still tired. She could tell he was holding something in his hand, but she wasn't quite able to make out what it was.
She yawned, then flipped over to her back, staring up at the top of the grove. The canopy above them hardly did anything to keep the light out, and it started to irritate her eyes so she turned back to look at Ogrim.
He poked whatever was in his hand, studying it. He turned to look at Isma for a second, then returned his focus back to his item. Whatever it was, it had to be special. Ogrim’s attention span never lasted longer than three seconds. Isma was convinced that was a side effect of the steroids his parents definitely put in his food.
“What are you holding, Ogrim?” she asked. Cupping his hands delicately over the object, he brought it over to Isma.
She sat up and peered into his hands. A flower bud sat inside. This particular bud was not one she recognized, which fascinated her.
“Do you know what this is, Isma?”
“No, do you mind if I hold this?” Ogrim shifted, before giving it to her hesitantly.
“Be careful with it, it seems really fragile,” he said.
Isma glared at him. She was always careful when it came to flowers, or anything in general, really. There was no need for concern. Still, she slowly took it out of his hands, and examined it gently.
The moment she made contact with it, she realized it wasn’t actually a flower. Under her shadow, the item gave off a dim glow. She could also feel heat radiating off of it. Faint, but the heat was definitely there.
“I believe this is a lumafly cocoon,” she said.
“All the way out here? I doubt it. Those things live in the canyons, not in Greenpath. Why would it come all the way out here?” Ogrim asked. His tone was not condescending, just curious and confused.
“All things need room to grow, Ogrim. Flora and fauna alike, we all must adapt. Clearly, these creatures are doing the same,” Isma responded gently.
“So, you’re saying this lumafly just wanted to venture out here?”
“No,” Isma shook her head. “All conscious creatures are willed by the power of Unn.”
Ogrim seemed shocked by Isma's words. “Unn? You actually think she's real?”
Isma snickered quietly. “My parents were devout followers of Unn. They believed she commanded all life into being from a simple dream. Without her, I don't think you or I would be here.”
Isma spent a moment reminiscing over her past. “Every dry season, I’d go away, remember? My parents took me here, to this exact grove, and taught me about the wonders of life. Back then, the tunnel we had to go through wasn't as overgrown, and there were far fewer trees.”
“I learned about the origins of the Pale King, too,” she continued. “He came here after our creation. He did what Unn could not do, uniting the tribes under a singular rule. Personally, I think he heard the call of Unn, and decided to help her out. Unn gave us life, he gave us intelligence.”
Ogrim nodded before making his remark, “I never thought you to be religious, Isma.”
“Religion isn't a topic that comes up often in conversation,” she replied.
The cocoon shifted in her hand, and Isma looked down. The lumafly inside was struggling to escape. Ogrim watched over her shoulder. It shook violently, then the fly burst free. It hovered for a moment, then flew up towards the canopy, leaving them behind.
“Look at that, the process of life. I'm glad you brought me here, Isma.”
Isma didn't respond. She was thinking about the lumafly.
It had the room to grow, that allowed it to leave its cocoon, to transform into something greater.
Isma had plenty of room to grow, so maybe, one day, she could become something greater, too.