“Is that supposed to happen?” I ask Sash.
Hypnotized by our daughter, Sash shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs.
Still sprawled on the ground, Marc looks up at Eval with utter confusion contorting his face. Eval turns away from Marc and studies the Tree. All the branches have returned to an almost dormant state with just the slightest side to side motion disturbing the air. After Marc stands to his feet, he has a brief conversation with Eval that I can’t hear. Once they’re finished talking, Eval addresses the Tree.
“On behalf of the Keepers,” she calls out, “I claim the child Aven for all of Krymzyn.”
Eval preemptively scans the branches before walking towards the trunk. She makes it about twenty feet inside the reach of the limbs when they all start thrashing up and down. I’ve always believed that tremendous strength and athleticism lurk in Eval’s tall, trim frame. The quickness and agility that erupts from her body as she spins away from the limbs and dashes to safety confirm that observation.
Sash abruptly squeezes my hand so hard that it feels like she might crush my bones.
“Stay by my side,” she says. “No matter what happens, show no fear.”
Tugging me along by her side, Sash marches directly towards the trunk. Deciding they’re the last things we need right now, I drop our spears to the ground. When we enter the realm of malevolent branches, Sash ignores them and stays focused on our daughter.
As I glance back and forth at our sides, multiple limbs slash across the meadow towards us. Without ever slowing our pace, we keep striding straight in the direction of the trunk. I grit my teeth and tense my muscles in anticipation of the branches hammering against our bodies. When they’re only a few feet from us, they veer sharply away. A few leaves lightly brush across our skin.
Although the limbs continue to whip through the air, we reach the base of the Tree without any more coming near us. Sash releases my hand, leans down, and gently scoops Aven from the ground. Cradling our daughter in her arms, Sash looks up at the branches of the Tree. One by one, they ascend towards the sky and peacefully sway in the air.
“What does this mean?” I ask Sash.
“It means that Krymzyn wants us to raise our daughter,” she answers.
“Are you sure?”
Sash smiles at me. “Absolutely.”
Under serene branches, we return to where everyone else is standing.
“I’m not sure what to make of this,” Eval says to Sash.
“Aven will dwell with us,” Sash tells her. “At the beginning of each morrow, we’ll take her to Home. The Keepers can educate her in the ways of Krymzyn, but at the end of each morrow, she’ll return to our habitat.”
“Do you know for a fact this is what the Tree wants?” Eval asks.
Sash nods her head. “During Aven’s Ritual, it was shown to me in a glimpse of the future.”
“What will you do if Darkness comes while you’re asleep? You can’t abandon a child or your duties.”
Sash looks at me briefly and then back at Eval. “I’m aware of Darkness before it falls. Chase and I can both travel. One of us will take her to Home so the Keepers can protect her during Darkness. As it is now, I can fill one pack of stakes before the other Hunters even reach their first trees. We’ll make it work.”
“This is the way children are raised in my world,” I add. “They live with their parents . . . the man and woman who create them, but go to school during the day . . . morrow.”
“I’m familiar with the paradigm,” Eval replies. “That’s how Murkovin children are raised, although they have no school and receive little in the way of education other than what’s needed for basic survival.”
Sash speaks in a determined voice. “Aven will have all the experiences that other children in Krymzyn have when she’s with the Keepers. But I believe the Tree has made it clear that, for whatever reason, Chase and I are responsible for raising her.”
“Do you see any issues with this arrangement?” Eval asks Marc.
“My only concern is that Aven will feel different from the other children,” he answers. “She may not understand why she has to leave Home at the end of each morrow.”
In a timid voice, Maya interjects herself into the conversation. “We won’t let her feel different. If she’s sad to leave Home, we’ll remind her that she’ll be back soon. All of us will be there waiting for her.”
Marc and Maya’s words slam into my head so hard that a brick wall might as well have fallen on me. I’ve only had the perspective of how children are raised on Earth. I’ve mistakenly had the belief that Aven would be heartbroken living at Home. Added to that has been my concern that the other children might feel sad if they see her leave at the end of each morrow with parents they don’t have. I can’t believe how misguided my views have been. Their way is the only way they’ve ever known in this world, so it’s the only way that makes sense to them.
“If you have room for her,” I say to Marc, “maybe she could sleep at Home sometimes when she’s a little older. That way, she can spend more time with the other children. It’s common in my world for friends to have sleepovers.”
Sash gently rubs her elbow against the side of my arm. I’m certain that it’s a sign
