The sun had finally begun to set. Since Johann said continuing any further would be dangerous given how faint the beams of light filtering through the forest canopy had become, the two of them decided to turn back. They hadn’t been able to find the swan in the end, leaving them utterly exhausted. They’d even eaten the bread Johann had brought.
Just when Tomaso had turned around and started walking back, he came across some tiny white flowers blooming in the bushes in front of him. They were the same ones the girl from earlier had filled her backpack with.
“Those are mountain hydrangea,” said Johann when he noticed Tomaso had stopped.
It was a muggy summer evening, and Tomaso was looking out the window of an apartment on the first floor. Time was going by at a crawl. The setting sun was unusually bright, tinting not just the apartment complexes and telephone poles in the distance, but also the mountain hydrangea blooming in the garden shades of orange. A warm breeze blew in from the open window. Sitting next to Tomaso was a girl, a serene smile on her face.
“I remember now,” exclaimed Tomaso as it all came rushing back to him. “I used to live with her.”
Fuzzy imagery of the days he’d spent with her regained their color and played clearly in his mind. “We need to bring her with us,” he said before sprinting towards the river. Although taken aback, Johann hurried after him.
By the time they’d left the forest and made it back to where they were before, the sun had already set and stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky. Tomaso looked around frantically for the girl, only to find her still sitting exactly where she was before. He inhaled, ready to shout that she should come to Polaris with them.
The girl went “Ah” under her breath, then stood up without taking her eyes off the opposite bank. Tomaso found himself looking in that direction as well and saw a small, but bright star twinkle there.
“I have to go,” she whispered, facing Tomaso.
The girl’s arms immediately transformed into wings, and the mountain hydrangea she was carrying became feathers. She had morphed into a swan. Without even giving Tomaso time to be shocked by what had just happened, the girl—now a swan—flapped her wings and flew away.
The swan flapped its wings in the dark of night, illuminated only by the light of the stars. The sight was made all the more beautiful by the way the starry sky reflected on the river’s surface. Tomaso was so bewildered, all he could do was watch as she flew away. He watched the girl-turned swan until she disappeared from view on the opposite bank of the river. It was only then that he vividly remembered he’d parted ways with her once before, and that he’d always regretted it.
One day, he’d forget it even crossed his mind that he shouldn’t forget this. He often didn’t know what he had until it was gone, but the fact that he’d just forget that too left him with little other choice. Why was it so hard to remember what he shouldn’t forget? Tomaso wondered to himself as he stared at the bright light on the other side of the river.
He felt a pain on the back of his left hand, like a sharp needle had stabbed through it. When Tomaso glanced at it, he saw that some kind of green plant had sprouted through the skin on the back of his left hand.
“That’s a St. John’s wort shoot,” wheezed Johann, who had appeared beside him at some point. “They’re called the flower of resignation.”
The forest at night was alive with the calls of insects and other creatures. The murmuring of the river was still as pleasant as ever.
What laid beyond the night? That was what Tomaso wanted to know.