More Than Skin Deep
Flash-fiction - by Kat Heckenbach
Taela stood at the pond’s edge, watching her son swim, her bare toes sinking into the wet soil. Sand clung to her calves, and her sleeveless tunic whispered around her in the warm afternoon breeze. It was their private place, hidden deep in the forest where the other Elven never followed.
The barely rippling surface reflected her image in broken waves—an image cross-sectioned by the tattoos covering her skin like colored lace. Neither the water nor the tattoos did anything to hide the unusual paleness of her Elven skin. Her onyx eyes were a vivid contrast, and the points of her ears were all that identified her heritage. Maybe that was why she felt compelled to trim her hair so short—no one could deny her place when confronted with those Elvish peaks.
She lifted her gaze from her reflection to Calen a few yards in front of her. Taela smiled as she watched him splash in the shallow water. He looked like any other Elven child out there, where no one could see the frail legs beneath him, the narrow ribcage that held a heart beating with the passion of someone ten times his size.
Calen waved at Taela with a twisted hand, then let it drop into the water, laughing at the spray that slapped his round cheeks. Always so happy, as if he had no idea that he was different.
Taela was all too aware. The Elven were strong, agile. Fast runners. Able climbers. Skilled fighters. They didn’t need braces formed from magic wood just to walk with withered legs.
What had she expected? It wasn’t as if she’d ever had a normal life.
She glanced down at the tattoos illustrating both exposed arms from shoulder to wrist. No…they weren’t tattoos. But she’d gotten used to thinking of them as such even though she’d never felt the sting of an ink-dipped needle. What else could she call them? They weren’t exactly birthmarks, as she'd been born completely free of them. But at two weeks old, a dark spot had appeared on her forearm. Her mother had thought it was a smudge of dirt, but nothing she did would remove it. Perhaps a bruise then?
Gradually, it spread, the edges darkening into distinct lines, colors filling in and shading her skin until an image appeared.
A flower, of deepest red. One Taela’s mother hadn’t been able to identify, and one that to this day Taela hadn’t identified either. She’d never seen it in the meadow where the Elven village was built, nor anywhere in the surrounding forest. Or even amongst the strange flora that clung to the sides of the mountains where she’d hiked as a young girl.
It was a flower that didn’t exist. Or was so rare that it may as well not exist.
Then at three months, another marking appeared on her upper back, this time a bird. It was dainty, with bright blue plumage that looped below her shoulder blades.
At the age of two, markings trailed down both arms. At five, both legs. By ten, she had colorful images adorning her stomach and hands as well. Insects, a fawn, the sun, moon, and stars. Even a dragon of royal purple with scales that shone iridescent in the noonday light.
It wasn’t until she hit thirteen that she realized the images told a story. Her story.
The most meaningful events of her life were documented in color on her ivory skin, represented by pictures of things found in the Creation around her. She didn’t always understand the connection, but there was no doubt in her mind that’s what they were.
Taela looked at Calen’s smiling face above the sun-dappled surface of the pond. His pleasure came from such simple things. Had she ever been like that?
If so, it was before she could remember. Unlike Calen, she fully understood the looks she got from others when she was a child. No one understood why she was the way she was. So pale for an Elven. Marked with pictures. Some were intrigued, others scared.
Even as she grew, and made friends. Even when she met the man who loved her not just despite her differences but because of them. Even then, the feelings twisted inside her. Different, different, different.
Then Calen was born. Another tattoo had appeared on her thigh: a unicorn colt. Its legs were spindly, with knobby knees, and hooves that angled out. So much like the scrawny newborn she’d held in her arms when she heard the news that he’d be different, too.
As Calen grew, so did the tattoo. The horn on the young colt’s forehead lengthened; but just like Calen, its legs stayed thin, its eyes stayed young and innocent. Those things would never change, she’d thought. Not for the unicorn, and not for Calen.
Taela pressed her hand against her thigh as she watched her son move toward her. She could sense the marking beneath her palm regardless of the fact that it was as smooth as the rest of her skin—it felt different.
She knelt and pulled the tunic aside. Her eyes widened—was she really seeing this? She blinked to clear her vision, slowly lowering herself to the sandy ground. A tingling rippled through her fingertips as she ran them over the image.
There was now an outline behind the unicorn colt. Like a shadow, but the details were there when she looked closely. Thick, strong legs, with hooves straight and sure. A barrel chest and flaring nostrils. A horn that stretched toward heaven like a sword.
A splash grabbed her attention—Calen had reached the shore. Taela held out her arms and felt the strength of that shadow stallion as she gathered her little colt to her. If only everyone saw how different he really was.