Forgetting both where and when he was, it took Allun some moments to remember. He looked at his watch; surprised to see it was nearly two pm. Miriam would be getting impatient and more miserable with every second.
He didn’t care. As he looked at the mossy ground, touching it with his hand and then, looking at his hand, as if he’d see the blood from the boy’s wounds. He could see no sign of the lifeless form of the tragic boy, yet it had been so real. He turned at looked at the tree, having watched the torque sail into the branches in his vision.
Now Allun was hardly in the ideal shape and condition to climb trees, particularly ones of such vintage and fame. Yet that is exactly what the overweight American undertook.
Once into the main fork, it was easy to start with, but as he got higher, the branches creaked alarmingly. Sweating profusely, he sat and rested in another fork. He was only fifteen feet off the ground, but he knew that his bulk was not compatible with this activity. As he started to climb higher, his foot slipped, and he slithered five feet back into the V of the fork, jarring his leg and back painfully.
In the well of this fork, his foot landed into small pool of water. Allun swore, lifting his damp foot out of the pool, noticing a tear in the soft leather. He looked for something to clean his shoe, but there was only some mistletoe. Mistletoe grew from seeds obviously placed in the bark by birds. The Mistletoe seeds secrete a sticky substance that makes birds wipe their beaks on bark to rid themselves of the impediment. That is how the plant transfers itself from tree to tree.
Looking down into the little puddle, he thought he saw the dull gleam of metal, possibly responsible for the tear, so he reached into the brackish water, only an inch or so deep, about the size of a dinner plate. Grasping the object, he attempted to pull it free. It held fast, as the tree had obviously grown around the object, so he exerted more power, eventually managing to pull it out.
It was a twist of metal. No, it was a torque; could it be that torque?
Using his handkerchief, he wiped it clean. It was exactly as he imagined it. It was almost a complete circle of dull, yellowish metal with small spheres on each end. In perfect shape, it would leave a gap of about two inches in the circle, but his tugging had distorted it slightly, so the gap was now six inches. Strange Celtic marks appeared to be as clear as the day they were made, none of which he could decipher. The other strange thing about the object, it was warm. The water was cold, yet the item was the same temperature as his skin.
He heard voices. He panicked, for there was no way he could get down in a few seconds, as he had to have both hands free even if he tried. His pockets were too small to hold the object, so he did the next best thing; he opened it further and placed it round his neck, closing the gap once it was in place.
At that moment, a mixed party of twelve people, all middle-aged ramblers, wearing sensible cagoules and sturdy boots, came into sight and approached the tree.
Allun remained up the tree, frozen – forcing himself to be as still as could be, but in plain sight of anyone on the ground.
The people stopped, looked at the tree, read the inscription, took photographs and wandered about. No one seemed to see him, and certainly no one drew attention to a vast, middle-aged American in a red and white check shirt, stuck halfway up an ancient English oak. He waited for the first person to see him and point, thereby alerting everyone to his presence.
It never came. Unaccountably, not one person saw him, and yet, all were looking up into the tree, so there was no way in the world that anyone could possibly not see him!
After a few minutes, the party moved away. Allun breathed a sigh of relief, looking down to plan his descent.
His heart almost stopped, for as he looked down, he saw not the familiar big belly covered in the garish shirt with which he was so familiar, but a pair of pert breasts pushing out the front of a tan top, with lacing at the throat.
“Shit! What the heck?” he said, aloud.
The voice was not his familiar bass, but a cool contralto. He leant back against the trunk, his heart rate racing. He brought his hand to his face, feeling the smooth skin of a girl and the long hair tied back in a pony tail he hadn’t awoken with.
Tamsyn had crossed to a new reality!
Chapter Two
In a panic, the girl snatched the torque from her neck. Allun immediately felt himself return to normal.
Normal?
It would be fairer to say he returned to that with which he was familiar and how he had started out the day.
What was normal?
It took only the briefest of thought and then the torque was back where it belonged.
The girl descended from the tree much quicker than the large American had ascended. Her descent was helped considerably by being now only five foot six and weighing a mere one hundred and twelve pounds and also possessing supple limbs and lithe muscles appropriate for a young woman of slender build.
She jumped the last eight feet, landing on the moss with both feet and executing a perfect forward roll.
She shook her hair free from the ponytail and laughed with an elation she’d never experienced before. Taking the opportunity to look down at herself, she saw she was wearing a tan hide tunic that came down to mid thigh, a dark, but rather coarse garment resembling a pantyhose and a pair of soft, calf-leather boots. A wide leather belt encircled her slender waist, and a short crude knife was in a leather sheath attached to the belt.
She was dressed almost identically to the dream that Allun had had on the airplane.
Tamsyn smiled, as she was now the person she’d dreamed of being for half a century.
Taking the torque off again, Allun was amazed at the speed at the transformation. It was instantaneous. He checked round the vicinity, so when he was satisfied he was alone, he undressed.
Taking his money and credit cards, he placed them on the ground, and then he replaced the torque.
This time the girl was naked, but the clothing remained as Allun had taken them off. The torque obviously only affected the body and anything on or with the body at the time of change. She hadn’t time to dwell on how or why, but logged the information and took the torque off again.
So, some minutes later, a raven-haired beauty appeared from the woodland, with calf-skin boots and what appeared to be a tan suede mini dress with a belt around her waist sporting a sheath knife. The coarse hose she decided against.
Clutched in her hand was a man’s wallet. She vaulted the stile and ran across the small meadow, her laughter carried by the wind. She had not run like this in a long time, if ever.
She was overly conscious that, by leaving off the hose, she was bereft of underwear. It felt amazing!
As a young male, Allun had been overweight and uninterested in any form of exercise. She adored her new body, revelling in how her young breasts jiggled as she ran, without the constraint of a bra. An elderly couple, walking an equally elderly Labrador could not help but smile as she passed them. Her laughter and joy was infectious.
However, as she neared the town she slowed slightly, a frown on her almost perfect face. She hadn’t thought this through. It was one thing to become what one has always dreamed of becoming and live a new life, but another to try to leave the old life behind, without causing hurt or upset.
She thought about her life as Allun, and then thought of what she had just become. Then she thought of Miriam, the children, Allun’s job and their home.
She knew that to be perfectly honourable, she should remain as Allun and complete his life as fate had decreed. There was always the possibility of being Allun for most of the time, and in those moments that he would have joined the RP games, Tamsyn could come out and play. She looked around her, at the greenery and ancient world that was part of who she now was. It would never be the same in New Jersey.