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From stories and rumors to the introduction of a very unique being.

Natural Wonder

Prelude

No one was quite sure where the rumor came from. Sure, on the island, there were many such rumors, of things horrifying, magnificent, and running the gambit of all in-between. But lately there had been new stories, but all seemed to share the same mysterious allure.

Satalario was a small island, about 500 miles off of the mainland. It was mostly covered by dense jungle, though amidst the forest a mountain range towered above the canopy along the northwestern edge and all the way to the very heart of the island. Smoke had long since stopped rising from the now almost-dormant volcano there and since there had been no danger of any eruptions several small villages had grown up around the foothills of it since, thriving off the lush flora and fauna around them, and the crystal clear rivers that flowed out to the sea.

The natural wonders of the island would have been prime real estate, and some had indeed tried, but as if in rebellion every time some events that seemed to be almost magical in nature would occur. It might be a sudden explosion in growth of the jungle foliage into their camps, or a swarm of insects descending with fury and ruining the supplies, or other such events had occurred and driven those seeking to make a fortune from the paradise back to their mainland.

The natives all had an immense respect for the land and its forests, which seemed to be alive and quite protective indeed, never harming even a single tree if they could help it, never hunting but out of absolute need, and in turn they prospered. It was as if it was watching over them in return for their devotion. Several of the tribes had even witnessed one night, hundreds of years ago, a massive ball of fire fall from the heavens and crash deep into the heart of the forest, shaking the entire island and causing tremendous waves to billow outward from it. But upon investigation, nothing was found. Well almost nothing, several of the more diligent tribes, the local tribe of lycanthropes and wolfish beings had found several remains scattered amongst the brush, as if some large stone had been smashed to pieces, but every time it was as if the trees and the scrub had simply grown over every fragment; only their sensitive noses could pick out the distinct smell the fragments had to them.

This created a stir amongst the various beings that lived there for a time, but it quickly faded as nothing really came of any of it. Though several years afterwards a strange occurrence had to be noted by many. Anyone who ventured into the jungle would be beset with the feeling that they were being watched, no matter the time, if they were alone, and with a group or what. The feeling was so unanimous and constant, with nothing ever really coming from it that soon it was just accepted to be the forest itself and its watchful eyes upon them, finally felt by them as they had become so close to it. In a way they were pretty close.

The first notable story of interest came out of an event that happened in the tribe of wolfish anthropomorphic beings that inhabited the western side of the island. It was said that a group of young cubs had wandered away from the village and into the forest during their play one day. This of course had the adults in quite a panic, scrambling around and scouring every inch of the village and surrounding forest in attempt to find the missing children. Within a day the children returned and after the proper actions had been taken by their parents, hugging, crying, warnings, and a few spankings, the children related a most unusual story.

They had been traveling for an hour or so and some of the cubs had begun to complain of thirst, others of being tired. The further they went, the worse the complaints got until several had even started crying for their parents. One, the shaman's son, tried to perform a ritual he had seen his father do, one that gave glory to the natural wonders and called for their help. And no sooner than the words were out of his mouth did the forest seem amazingly peaceful, quiet. The crying children stopped weeping and everyone generally felt more relaxed. It looked like the sun was shining through the trees upon them and they all felt an odd compulsion to keep going. So the children all continued on their way through an almost natural little path through the brush into a clearing.

Now here is where the stories began to vary. Some claim they found a beautiful woman, others a dashing, almost princely fellow, and two insisted it was some sort of monster, fooling their little eyes with its devilish enchantments and luring them in closer. All but the two had approached him/her, and it had regarded them with simple curiosity. The children, too awed by it to speak could not tell of their predicament, but somehow it seemed to know. It gave to the child closest to it a large container, made of shaped leaves the cub claimed, and gently pointed it in the opposite direction, giving a gentle push.

The cubs walked in the direction their "leader" had been pointed in, why, they didn't know, but the two suspected they were still under the creature's spell and so they would have gone anywhere it pleased anyways, and eventually they were back in the woods. All of them were extremely thirsty at that point, and after the leaves failed to provide much to drink they opened the container and found it filled with a fragrant, clear liquid. Fearing it might be some sort of poison meant to be their end, the two older boys tried to stop the younger cubs, but in the end the empty little bellies and dry throats won out and they guzzled down the stuff.

The liquid tasted sweet, sweeter than the fruit juices they had occasionally been given by their parents, that they had harvested from the forest, and more refreshing than when the mountain snow melted and mingled with the river once each year. Feeling their thirsts quenched and their aching muscles calmed, almost bursting with renewed energy they continued on, walking for several more hours and through the night without a single complaint; not a soul even felt a need to complain until the time where they felt too sleepy to go on, made a crude clearing, and settled down for a good night's sleep.

Next morning, once the sun was high in the sky, they had awakened, enjoyed a breakfast of the fruit that seemed oddly plentiful on the trees nearby, and set out again. Within almost no time, they were reunited with their parents again. Of course some of the adults were incredulous, but a few of the eldest of them took the words a bit more to heart. To the present day their respect for the forest had deepened tenfold, and their praises and gifts to it were greater than ever before.

Still, another story that arose from similar circumstances was kept from the ears of the young, a rather risqué story that came from a village in the north. There was a young man, a deer mouse really, who was about to be wed to the loveliest lady in his village. She was his species, beyond gorgeous with a lithe figure, supple attributes right where it mattered, lovely, highly kissable lips, and gorgeous chestnut eyes that one could fall into with no hope of escape. On the day of his wedding the whole village showed up, the young man was happier than he had ever been, and forced himself up to the alter despite his tremendous nervousness.

However, when the time came, his bride-to-be never showed. They waited, but there was no sign of her. He remained there for hours after everyone had left, not willing to give up so easy, but eventually even he had to set out for home as he hadn't eaten a thing all day. On his walk he spied his bride to be. He was about to approach her, hope still in his heart, when he saw that she was with another man. The two embraced, kissed, and were flirting like old lovers. This brought him to a crushing halt, he felt weak, decimated, and soon he could do nothing but follow his legs. The young man ran sobbing from the village, desiring to be alone, as far away from the source of his shame as possible, he ran deep into the forest.

He cried his heart out, sobbing into the ground as he collapsed, pleading, begging for help in his time of dire need. And his pleas did not fall on deaf ears; the forest hears everything, it just chooses when to act. The mouse didn't hear a thing, no rustle of the brush or snap of any twig was heard, he simply felt someone's arrival. Getting to his knees and turning his head, rubbing the still wet tears from them, he saw a creature unlike any he had before.

It was so delicate, so lovely; he found his breath caught in his chest. It's hair was green and lush, it gave off a sheen that almost made it look like the long grasses of the deep woods, cascading down and over its shoulders, ending just under them. Its body was thin but curvaceous, as beautiful as his ex-fiancé yet with an earthy quality in its full hips and thighs. As he looked up from its billowy pants and over those gravid breasts supported by an almost shiny brown covering, his heart caught in his chest. The eyes, those eyes, he had never gazed into such before. They were a deep, cool, and utterly lovely shade of purple. The complete picture was a lovely maiden that brought him such ease that his limbs felt as if made of flax, yet inside he felt warmth enkindled and spreading through him.

Neither said a word, and none was needed. Apparently she knew his exact ailment, and was by his side almost instantly. The lady coaxed him to relax, laying his head upon her lap, and he couldn't think of anything else to do. For hours she comforted him, consoling him and his poor broken heart, feeding him with a variety of fruits that grew there, quenching his thirst with their juices. The young man had never been so kindly treated in all his life. These were the kind of luxuries he doubted even the village elder had experienced, and here he was, relishing in them for whatever reason and not caring to do anything else. And she did not let up until the moment he felt truly at peace, once his heart had been healed enough for the time being.

A few hours after the sun had set his treatment began to change. The enchanting woman had lifted his head from her lap, her hands vanishing for a moment before returning, a finger abruptly being pushed between his lips. He was confused at first, but then he began to taste it. That lovely digit was coated in something, something warm, something sticky, something...the most delicious thing he had -ever- tasted in his life. There was something else too, something that seemed to make him surrender, his restraint slowly melting away and something else rising in him to take its place.

Without words they had started, first with a passionate kiss from her delectable lips, something warm, soft, and a bit feathery brushing over his tongue, leaving a cool, mint tingling in its wake. His hands began to move of their own accord, brushing, stroking, even squeezing about over and over, the sounds of this beauty's delight only urging him to give more and more in. And so he did, into the late hours of the night, the forest was filled with their cries, the birds, the crickets, the frogs; everything seemed to submit to the sounds of their desire. It was a night of sounds enough to drive the errant traveler to fits of desire and self pleasure, until, like the two, near three the next day they would collapse into the most blissful of sleeps one could enjoy.

Come the afternoon he woke, and fond he was alone. There was no sign of his companion, comforter, and greatest lover he had ever known. All that remained was a single red rose, tucked behind his ear. For whatever reason, he didn't feel saddened, and he simply returned to his home, continued his life as he had before, but perhaps with a bit more confidence.

For years to come some days he would stand, gazing into the trees, pondering going to find the mysterious alluring beauty who had soothed him so, but he never did. He always felt her eyes upon his, and merely knowing that brought him great comfort and he'd return to his daily work. That and the smell of the lovely rose in the pot on his dresser, the flower that never wilted, was enough to lead him to earn the life he'd always wanted.

While some thought these tales of fancy, the idle gossip shared amongst the idle-minded to pass their boring days of toil, the older generations knew the truth. One village, one of the Eastern ones, had a young man who had privately been collecting such tales out of sheer curiosity. He was a livid scholar, he ran the closest thing that the village ever knew as a library, and discrediter of anything he did not believe in, gathered over 40 such stories, from various areas, from people of all classes and sexes. Whether performing innocent tasks like guiding the lost back to civilization, or providing the injured within the forests with assistance, or the mysterious lovely lady, or gorgeous man, happy to comfort, happier to provide and take their pleasure from those graced by their presence, the stories were far too similar to be just tales woven for entertainment.

And so, the man, a kind of exotic bird, he set off on a journey, exclusively ignoring all the villages he came across and wandering through the various forests of the islands regions. He lived upon the land, getting all he needed from the forest, and after a time it seemed like the forest almost begun to provide ample of what he did require. Perhaps it realized his intent? He wasn't one for the superstitions of the others, of their prayers to the gods and goddesses of the forest, that it truly contained watchful spirits, but now he was beginning to wonder.

One day, it must have been a month, maybe two since he had set out, he found himself deep within the northern region of the island's forest. He had spent a good many hours pacing along the edge of a great ravine in the land, looking for a bridge or some end to the crevice he could cross. He found none; the massive gap seemed to be endlessly stretching on to either side, almost diving the northern tip of the island from the rest of the land. A river thundered through the gorge deep below, out of sight, and the strong wind blowing through it caused a steady low howling that kept his feathers on edge.

After quite some time of fruitless searching he realized a fact so obvious it practically caused him to wince. Turning back he spread his wings, got a bit of distance, then ran hard at the ravine. As he reached the edge he leapt and soared, oddly effortlessly on the strong winds from below, landing on the opposite side in no time. He had taken a few steps to slow himself down, and that's when he almost ran straight into it. The creature was obviously flustered, backing away hastily, checking to see if it had caused him any injury in their almost-collision.

For some time the two just stood there, it having gathered its composure, it began to regard him with the same wonder, the same curiosity that he held it in. Eventually it spoke first, in a voice soft and soothing. "I've never seen such a beautiful bird." The man smiled, thanking him, and began to explain what kind he was. Throughout it all, the creature looked at him with fascination, genuinely curious. This lead to some rather insistent questions from it, but the young man was crafty, and he made it known how tired he was, and that he needed to rest up from his travels of the day before he could answer much more.

It agreed, and in no time he had a glass of the most delicious fruit juice he had ever tasted, and the two were seated on two stones opposite one another. As he sipped he gave the creature a thorough looking over. Indeed, it was how the one descriptive story said, a rather soft, sleek looking figure, grassy hair that looked like lengthy blades of grass, though cut much shorter than had been mentioned in the descriptive account, likewise there were no breasts to speak of, though the smooth paneling was there over its chest. It wore a pair of gauzy, opaque green harem pants, all cute and billowed around its thin legs, and a green, featureless pair of almost skin-tight slippers upon its feet.

Its eyes were indeed as gorgeous as detailed, and the story didn't do them justice, how deep they were, how they betrayed an inner...he didn't know what, just that this creature obviously had quite a few secrets. How it could be mistaken for a girl he could see, though it was most likely a male it looked quite effeminate. But was it really a man even? Hmming softly to himself he put his glass down on the rock and regarded it.

Before it could get in the first question he managed to ask, "So, who are you?"

"Essy," was its instant response.

"Essy? Short for something?"

"Essrayle, call me Essy." It smiled sweetly.

"So what kind of bird are you?"

"Bird of Paradise. What are -you-?"

"A herfollia."

The bird took a sip of his juice to evade the next question and quickly followed the reply with another. "What's that? Many of you?" Essrayle shook its head.

"No, I'm the only one. Mostly plant."

The bird nodded, considering this and looking Essrayle over a bit more. "Forgive me if I offend but...are you a man, or a woman?"

Now Essy couldn't help bit give a rather girlish giggle, "Neither." Seeing the bird's incredulousness Essy grinned and said it again. Its company nodded gently, swallowing the mouthful it had rather hard, and then had to clear its throat before speaking again.

"Um...but..I heard you were a man...and others said a woman?"

Essy smiled again, almost mysteriously. "Oh, yes, that's right."

"Which is?"

"That I can be."

"Can be what?"

"What you said." Essy seemed to be toying with him and was having quite the time doing so, by how it was fighting back a smile. The avian scholar had little choice but to try and ride this out if he wanted answers. With a sigh he tried again.

"Essy, what exactly can you be, a man or a woman?" The seriousness of the bird's nature seemed to sober the herfollia up a little. "Well, both."

"So you're a hermaphrodite?"

Essrayle shook its head, and its grassy hair rustled. "No. I'm neither gender. But I can be either...or both."

This intrigued the bird indeed. Being quite well read, he had never heard of such a thing; well there were some cases were frogs could do such, but he had the suspicion that this herfollia was in no way related to amphibians nor able to do such for the same reasons. Abruptly Essy got to its feet. "Well, Mr. Bird of Paradise, it was nice to meet you but I gotta go now." And it began to walk towards the crevice at a brisk pace. Leaping to his feet the bird tried to stop the herfollia, but was unfortunately to slow. Before it could holler out a warning Essy had deftly stepped over the edge and was out of sight.

He rushed to the edge to perhaps lend a last minute helping hand, or wing, but there was no one down there. No sign of the herfollia lingered, and no sound came forth but the whistling of the winds below. Eventually he stood up and returned to the rock. He'd found what he'd been looking for, true, but now he had more questions than before. Would they ever be answered though? Did he really want to spend however long it took doing what he had been until then? He reached for his glass, to take another drink, but his hand ended up on something rather cool and wet. Looking down he found a pile of leaves where it had been, and they were covered with something wet. Lifting his hand to his face he sniffed curiously. It smelled like juice?