The more he walked, the warmer his skin became. Although the rain was far from drying up.
After two and a half dozen trees, he stumbled upon a rosebush. His own blood paled in comparison to the redness they had. That image had burned into his mind so much that even if he were to willingly erase it, he could not forget.
He stepped closer, reaching his hand to grab it. When he tried, however, the thorn on its stem stung him. The surface of his thumb pulsed drops of blood, one after the other. When it fell on the swirling layers of petals, his blood brightened their redness. Eventually, it dropped on the ground, painting the ground red.
The man stepped forward to the next tree, trying to feel something other than pain.
Just before he got to the other rosebush, the squirming of leaves on a nearby tree caught his attention. He looked at the closest tree next to him.
Pink leaves fell. Branches crunching.
Then, something appeared from behind the foliage.
A squirrel, running down the trunk. Its brown fur was picked up by the wind.
In seconds, he reached the tall blades of grass, disappearing into the greenery. Only the grass moved, with the sound of small footsteps pressing against the soil.
The man looked at the grass, the last one that moved.
He might have even felt curiosity rising within himself, eager to find out where the squirrel went. But then he looked away.
Oh, yeah, I forgot. He is still the same person he has always been.
As the man looked at the pink foliage from which the squirrel had come, a sudden sound emanating from the same tree resonated through the crown, shaking some leaves off. The sound belonged to a bird. From the top, the chirping filled the atmosphere. Rhythmic, though it wasn't as coordinated as the ones he used to hear.
A bird flew out, wings spreading wide open. That bird, despite its ability to reach heights way beyond that hill, never flew above it, only flying close to the ground. Her singing eventually faded as the man came closer.
The man just walked that narrow road, so it wasn't like he ever wanted anything from that bird or anything.
All of this could be just my imagination, though. It's very likely that neither the man thought about the bird nor did the bird harbor any resentment towards the man. Just killing some time, that's all. What else can we…
Oops, sorry… let's just, let's just forget about this slip-up, k?
Anyway. Where were we… ?
Oh, yeah—ahem.
The man turned his head back to the path and continued walking.
He passed one tree. Then another. His skin warmed up the further he went.
As he was getting past another tree, he glanced at the golden cloud. Its glorious size, as always, shone the entire hill with dazzling light. Even the gray path he walked looked more colorful than before. Though, it was still nothing like the vibrant atmosphere around it.
Four trees later.
He strolled towards the summit at his own pace, then stopped.
When he got to the next tree, the grass' rapid movement caught his attention. And amongst the greenery, he saw it again: the squirrel.
…
Wait, no, I'm an idiot.This one had a white, fluffy coat and long ears. How could this be the same as a squirrel?
She jumped out of the rosebush—somehow avoiding all the thorns—and ran across the road with her long feet.
Dust stirred up, enveloping the man's gray pants.
In just about a second, she ran from one bush to another. When she made it to the other side, the squirrel reappeared from the grass, dashing up the tree and disappearing inside the crown. Then, just like before, he landed on the ground, though, unlike some time ago, this time around, the squirrel jumped down.
The man was watching all that, unable to make sense of it. Although from the outside, he showed neither confusion nor interest, only keeping his face in a natural state.
Then, two birds flew out almost at the same time. One came out on the opposite side of the foliage. The one that came after had the opposite color from the other two birds the man saw.
Black.
He stood there with the face of someone who had never learned to use his cheek muscles, staring at the lively space surrounding him with his usual hollow eyes as he watched the two birds taking a flight. Their wings flapped in the air. Though even these two weren't interested in reaching the heights, they only flew close to the trees.
Moments later, they were gone.
The man turned his head back to the path and continued walking. His shoes no longer squelched; only the rubble grazed the road.
He passed a couple of trees. Maybe three? However many it was, he stopped again.
The scent of roses filled the atmosphere.
There were more red rose bushes there than before, with some of them being white, and as he was gazing at a distance, it seemed that was the only place where the roses were in such high quantity.
Though, again, why did he care?
Was it perhaps I mistook something about his character… ?
No, no, I didn't.
I know him. I know him more than anyone. I have not leaped in my judgment at all.
I know I didn't.
As he was standing next to a tree, another chirp came from above.
A light breeze knocked over some leaves. They all fell on the road, painting some of the gray path with their vibrant colors, with some of them landing on the man's shoes, covering them.
He shook his legs.
Leaves fell from his dark blue shoes, and just as they were about to reach the ground, a bird flew up. It was black like the others.
This bird, though, did not fly backward like the others, nor did it stop its melody when it spread its wings. Did not fly high either. Unlike the others, this one barely flew above the ground and sometimes even looked as though it was about to plummet. Even so, it persevered and ended up in the tree ahead.
It was hard to know how far that bird had gone or why the man might have cared about that, but one thing was for sure: it was way ahead. Maybe twenty trees or so.
Well, what mattered was that it was far away. Almost where the hill peaked.
The man continued walking, slowly passing the trees one by one. And just then, not long after reaching another one, the roses sent had faded.
He looked around.
There were no more roses beyond that tree.