A Redwood Stroll

As soon as Therasia stepped into the Redwood, she made a familiar turn to the right, disappeared into the thicket for a while and then, nearly running, inhaled and climbed up a tree marked with a crooked “T”. The climb was torturous for her exhausted legs, but she forced herself to move. This was one of the situations in which she was more relieved just because she knew some sort of relief was coming. Just a few branches away from the top of the tree, her fingers clutched soft fabric. Therasia let go of it and then she pulled herself up so she could perch on a branch right below it. Under her weight, it gave a pitiful whine. She wasn’t too worried; she pulled the fabric — a thin red coat — out of its hiding place, then shrugged it on quickly and started her descent before the branch could snap beneath her.

The climb down wasn’t relaxed, but only because she was afraid someone would see her and think it was weird that a human was climbing down a tree in the middle of the Redwood.

Therasia wasn’t a human climbing down a Redwood tree! Who did that?! She was taking a relaxing stroll.

She was.

Well, she was going to.

When Therasia felt the solid ground beneath her feet, she immediately took off in the direction of the more populated part of the hub. By then, she was perfectly able to blend in with the diverse crowd of the Redwood, and that was what she did. She looked around, searching for a big group of tourists listening in on another story of balance of body and mind. Some of it was true, she supposed. Some other things, however, were without a doubt exaggerated to fit in with the expectations of incoming tourists. Therasia could prattle any such spiel with a frightening accuracy because she’d heard them so many times. And yet, she would never be able to vouch for their authenticity. The actual secrets of Redwood weren’t for her to know.

Besides, Therasia wasn’t there for Redwood’s secrets. The Redwood could have them and keep them close for all Therasia cared. She was there for the protection, and the little red coat she’d thrown over her head and shoulders granted her just that. In a mass of red silk and bronze brocade, she was just another visitor of the forest. Nobody minded her, and she didn’t mind anyone else. Everyone had their own thing to get to, and if you looked interested and confused in equal measures, then people were likely to leave you alone.

Besides, if a thief walked among them, people would check for their belongings in someone else’s hands. They’d check running people, those who didn’t fit in, and girls climbing down trees where they could’ve hidden the stolen treasures. They wouldn’t check tourists who did their best to fit in just to get a little bit of the forest’s aesthetics to rub off on them. No one looked for someone who was apart from the group, because there were just so many places one could hide behind.

And so Therasia stood among the tourists, chatted with them, and chuckled at how they couldn’t remember he unfamiliar face. She basked in the beauty of the red forest in the low light and enjoyed her day even though she didn’t know anybody there. All the while, just beneath her shirt, she felt the weight of a stolen pendant around her neck.