Venture

As winter came to an end the world bounced back from greyscale blues to vibrant hues. The sun spent more time in the sky, and the world warmed up. Alvulps shed their winter attire in favor of gardening gloves and sun hats. New flowers joined the world and new Alvulps as well.

Born of a healer and gardener, Zoenn found himself in a maternity ward one morning. His ears not yet erect, antenna tangled, eyes closed. He could make out the softest mumbles of affection and a sticky sweet smell that permeated everything. On the flipside, his parents smiled at Zoenn’s early attempts at language. 

Zoenn continued to babble throughout his early years. Picking up complex flower and potion names that he could not pronounce. He was quite fond of picking up physical objects as well. His room boasted a rather large hoard, one might mistake him to be part dragon. Granted, all the things he had were worthless. Funny shaped rocks he found on walks, and collections of books that contained pressed flowers took up most of the space. Well, ‘worthless’ was subjective. 

Mother used to take him to find flowers together in the field and they pressed the ugliest of them together. His mom would explain that, by picking the ugly ones the pretty ones were allowed to flourish, and since most do not keep the ugly ones, he would own a rare record of the flower’s evolution. Meanwhile others would snuff out the pretty ones as gifts and snacks, not appreciating the flowers for what they were. It was about balance. Mom was funny like that.

Dad used to take him on walks for new materials. They never ventured far, though most of the time his father ended up carrying him back home. The objects his dad picked up never made much sense to Zoenn. He could never wrap his head around why the rocks his dad picked up were useful, but the ones he picked up were not. Apparently just because rocks were shiny did not mean they were valuable. Apparently just because rocks were big, did not mean they were valuable. Most frustratingly was that, it seemed, if Zoenn did not want the rock, it was valuable. 

The world was much too confusing for a child. The colony itself was a watered-down version of the world to begin with, and even that was incomprehensible. So instead of trying to learn about the world around him, Zoenn figured rejecting it was easier. The boy had a natural curiosity and a natural stubbornness. He lived by the blissful ignorance phrase and tried not to do anything he did not absolutely have to do.

When he was younger, being stubborn was cute. As he aged it became off-putting. The colony was supposed to work together, everybody was supposed to be friends and the world was supposed to be a better place because of it. But that was a world Zoenn wanted no part of.  It was boring. There was no rich history because there was never any drama. There were no fantastic tales because nobody dreamed. There was not anything special, because nobody cared enough to create it. It was like living in a nursing home. The only thing that had any story behind it was the Everblooms that dotted the town. They were a blessing, for obvious reasons and injuring one was curse worthy, again, for obvious reasons. 

Zoenn was sick of it. He loved his home dearly. He loved his parents. He loved his neighbors. He loved the colony leaders, but he was bored. He wanted a reason to live and this place was not cutting it. Every year he dreamed of leaving and every year he was too terrified to commit to any real plan. The more he thought about going out and carving his own path the more it terrified him. 

He was raised in such a cushy lifestyle. All the food he could want, all the toys and attention, but it was all too convenient. He did not think it wrong to dream. He did not think it wrong to imagine a life different than the one he currently lived. His parents would call him spoiled. You have everything here they would lament. Wondering why he would dare think the grass would be greener on the other side. The funny thing was, Zoenn did consider himself spoiled, and that was the problem. 

When you are raised with everything, you are also raised with high expectations that you did not ask for. You are raised with everybody looking at you, and you are raised with the best intentions. All Zoenn wanted was a fresh slate. He wanted to make a name for himself and actually do something instead of just going through the motions. 

As it stood now, he had four options. Option one would be intern under his mother and become a gardener for the colony once he came of age. Option two was similar, intern under his father and become a healer once he came of age. Option three was the same idea, it was just that he would have to find a new profession and Alvulp who required an apprentice within the colony, then there was option four. Option four was leave, make his own path and deal with any consequence that it entailed. 

The more he looked at his options the more it looked like only two options. Either stay here and follow in somebody else’s footsteps or carve out his own. Deep down he regrated that it came to this. He was part of a colony and somehow, he lacked the hive mind necessary for this lifestyle. He wished there were somebody he could talk to about things like this, but he knew why there was not. Creatures in his footsteps either left or stayed, they did not dwell on their conflicted emotions, the most they had now was regret. 

Zoenn did not want to regret his life, but at the same time he was not entirely sure what he wanted from it. He just kind of wanted something knew. Something the colony could not give him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had to leave. 

Finally, he had resolve to grab his woven pack of the shelf and cram it with goods he would need on his quest of self-discovery, or whatever he was going to call this. Firstly, he had to empty out the rocks that were already in the pack, well, maybe not all of them. Having a trinket to remind him of his parents would not hurt him, maybe it would even invigorate him. 

The pack itself had several pockets. One big compartment that closed with a flap that buckled over the top. Then there was the front pocket, and two side pockets, all closed with flaps. Inside both the big and front pockets resided tinier pockets. All the more pockets to put things in. 

He figured for the adventure he would need food, water, and entertainment. Well, normally they say the necessities are food, water, and shelter, but with Everblooms providing an easy shelter he might as well replace the third thing with something else. For food he packed two jars of honey, and several bags of dried berries. The jars were big, with both of them combined taking up the bottom on the biggest pocket. The berry bags were simply poked anywhere they would fit. For entertainment he packed a leaf bound notebook, a grass blade pen and a container of berry ink. That was probably all he needed. His ancestors probably explored vaster areas with less materials. Besides, he had his mother’s knowledge of what foliage he could eat if he went hungry. 

No time to dwell on things now, he thought, the more he spends sitting around thinking, the more he would hesitate to actually do anything. So, that was that. He grabbed his canteen of water of the table along with his satchel and gave a quick goodbye to his parents. 

His parents looked as if they wanted to say something, or rather argue with his decision, but instead they smiled sadly and wished him well on his quest. Making sure he knew that if things ever got bad, he would always be welcome back at the colony. 

Now was the moment of truth, he hugged his parents, and left his house. Left the town square. Left the gardens and fountains. Left the bakery and tailor. Left everything that he had called home. Left the entrance to the town. Left the Everbloom forest that surrounded it. 

Entered the vast fields of flowers that was no longer part of his humble colony.