Kneeling beside me, she wipes blood away from a cut on my forehead. I suck in several deep breaths and lock my eyes on hers. She smiles at me with so much caring that my pain fades away.
“You see the tree move,” she says. “You react to the tree. But you don’t feel the tree. That’s what a Hunter does.”
Sash stands up and walks to the outer edge of the branches’ reach. Resting one hand on her stomach, she reaches the other out towards the tree. Every limb continues to slice the air except one. It slowly sways down towards Sash until coming to a stop with the tip resting on her palm. The blazing red-leaves on the end curl around her outstretched fingers.
Sash bows her head and stands reverently with the tip of the branch embracing her hand. Fierce limbs sail back and forth over her head, but they never come close to her body. For the remainder of Darkness, I sit on the grass and watch Sash commune with the tree.
When the dark clouds finally come to a halt and the rainfall ends, Sash kneels to the ground. As she lowers her hand to the grass, the tip of the branch slips from her touch. A few twigs on the end dig into the grass and the tree returns to slumber. Under crisp scarlet rays that dissect the idle clouds, Sash stands up and looks at me.
“Come feel our daughter kick,” she says.
I jump up from the grass and dart to her side. As she slips an arm around my waist, I reach a hand under her shirt. After my palm is resting on her stomach, several gentle kicks from inside Sash thump against my hand.
“Hello, baby girl,” I whisper.
I’m immediately filled with wonder and awe at the new life growing inside Sash. I lean forward and kiss her lips.
“Why did you do this, Chase?” she asks after our kiss.
With my hand still pressed to her stomach, I gaze at her eyes for several seconds. “I thought it might improve your mood,” I finally say. “Everything has been so weird between us since the Ritual. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been in a bad mood and you’ve been distant. I thought the way you’re feeling might be because you miss the trees during Darkness.”
“I do miss them,” she replies. “But that’s not why I’m so quiet.”
“Is it because you know how I feel about raising our daughter? You’re mad at me about that?”
“No, Chase,” she says. “I’m not angry with you.”
“Then what is it?” I ask.
She closes her eyes for a few seconds and then reopens them. “It’s because I feel the same way you do. Every morrow she grows inside me, I feel closer and closer to her. I never want to let her go, but I can’t do anything about it.”
“We could talk to Eval,” I suggest.
“No,” she replies. “She can’t do anything about it.”
“She agreed to us living together.”
“That was different,” she explains. “That only impacts you and me. The way a child is raised is for the balance of everyone in Krymzyn.”
I look at the sleeping tree. “It takes a village,” I murmur.
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“It’s a saying on Earth,” I answer, returning my attention to Sash. “It means that everyone who’s around the children of a community should feel responsible for their upbringing. Everyone is part of shaping their lives.”
She nods her head. “I still believe the best thing for her is to be raised the same way that other children in Krymzyn are. I never want her to feel different. But I know how much it will hurt me not having her with us.”
I can’t say that I’m surprised by her confession, but I wish I’d recognized what was going on with her sooner. The clues were all there. She’s been overwhelmed by maternal instincts in the same way that a pregnant woman on Earth would be. But like many of the emotions she’s experienced from my world, she has no basis for comparison and no way to express them.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet,” I say. “I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. I should have been more aware of what you might be going through.”
“It’s not your fault,” she replies. “It’s all new to me. I don’t always know how to explain my feelings to you.”
I draw in a deep breath. As hard as it is for me to accept, Sash was right when she said that I chose to be in Krymzyn and have to abide by the customs here. I’ve selfishly wanted to raise our daughter the way she would be on Earth, but it’s time for me to let go of that line of thought.
“I told you that I saw us together as a family,” I say. “And what you said was right. I don’t know the path that will get us there, but I do know that you and I can help make that path if we work together.
“We’ll take morrows off,” I continue, “and spend every moment of them with her. The same way you take Maya away from Home sometimes, we can do that with our daughter. Instead of going for walks at the end of the morrow, you and I can go to Home and spend time with her. We’ll say it’s important for my balance because that’s how it is in my world. I don’t think anyone can say no to that.”
She reaches a hand up and rests it on my shoulder. “I think that’s a good plan. Thank you, Chase.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I say. “I should have said something sooner. I was too caught up in my own feelings.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain why I was behaving the way I was. I worried that talking to you about it would only make it worse
