Windsworn_The Art and the Story #2
This is how the truth of how it happened. He had lived many years, and then many more, and then he no longer did. Thomas Metcalf was still a young man when he found his real name, the treasured name he whispered to himself when he died.
It was not at all that Thomas Metcalf didn't like his given name, rather, he felt it suited him. He was quite comfortable with the heft and weight of it. It was simply that he had always felt that there was more to it than that. Something else underneath. Something more important and real that was his.
So the day before Thomas Metcalf reached his twenty-first birthday, he went to the base of one small mountain and Thomas Metcalf walked into the forest alone.
Four days after his twenty-first birthday, Thomas Metcalf walked off that mountain, out of that forest, no longer simply Thomas Metcalf, but with a second name, a truer name, a name which had been his all along, but newly discovered. Thomas Metcalf walked out of the woods deepened and new.
The true name changed him. Gave him something ancient and honorable to live his life up to. Gifted him a secret of being that was to be told only in the way he met each day, told only in the fierce protection and the depthless love and the quiet knowing he offered his family and friends. Told only in the determination of a good and lengthy life.
The day before Thomas Metcalf died, he went to the base of one small mountain, and Thomas Metcalf walked into the forest alone. As the moon drifted a cold and clear-starred sky, he reached the clearing at the top of his world, and Thomas Metcalf lay down.
And, as the first warm touch of a new day kissed his face, Thomas Metcalf whispered a name.
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