Our lives are really turned upside down when, at five months old, Aven begins to crawl. Even though it’s only a couple of inches deep, I panic that she’ll somehow drown in the stream inside the waterfall cavern. Then I worry that she’ll climb down the crevice that the water spills away through. Sash alleviates my fears by showing me that the crack in the rock is only a few inches wide. None the less, we tell Aven to never go in the waterfall cavern alone. In another sign of her stubbornness, she ignores the rule and often tries to crawl in there by herself. Fortunately, since she’s never alone in our habitat, Sash and I can rush to stop her.
Our concern hits new heights when Aven crawls to our spears at the end of one morrow and yanks them off the wall. With the help of two Constructs, we completely childproof our habitat. The first thing we do is have the Constructs install new spear clasps. They set them in the wall so that they hold the spears horizontally and high enough that they’re well out of Aven’s reach. They also install a gate over the entrance to the waterfall cavern with a latch several feet above her outstretched arms.
We eventually move Aven into my former studio. Although we sometimes let her sleep with us, she spends most nights in her cradle. I find that I can get her to sleep faster by singing lullabies from Earth, so that becomes a regular part of our routine. Once Aven’s asleep, we close a curtain over her doorway that the Constructs installed so that Sash and I can have a little much-needed alone time. We usually fall asleep in an instant.
The older Aven gets, the more pronounced the resemblance between mother and daughter becomes. As Aven’s hair grows longer, her raven waves are identical to Sash’s. Their subtle smiles, the intensity in their eyes, and their facial expressions are all mirror images of one another.
Despite there being no precedent in the Delta for her to draw from, Sash proves to be a patient and caring mother. She never loses her temper with our daughter, even when Aven tries to push us to our outermost limits. Sash can usually get her to back down with nothing more than a prolonged stare. Whenever that happens, Aven gazes straight back at Sash. Because their eyes glass over during the stare-off, I often wonder if they’re sharing some type of unspoken communication, much like I’ve seen with Sash and Eval.
Eval stops by our habitat every few morrows, usually under the guise of making sure we’re adapting to our daughter dwelling with us. She always ends up sitting on a stool with Aven on her knee and playing a game with her. The caring of a grandmother may be foreign to this world, but it’s unmistakable in Eval’s interaction with Aven.
Although Larn always asks how Sash and Aven are, he’s less willing to partake in customs that aren’t natural to this world—like being a grandfather. Several times when our duties for the morrow end, I ask him if he’d like to stop by our habitat to see Aven. He never accepts my offer and always has some vague excuse for why. I eventually stop asking out of fear that it makes him feel uncomfortable.
Tela is the exact opposite of Larn. At least once a week, she comes to our habitat when our work for the morrow is completed. After the first few visits, Aven squeals with delight whenever Tela shows up. They play games together and sometimes go for evening walks with Aven in the carrier, giving Sash and me a little breather.
The only comparison I can come up with for the relationship that develops between Tela and Aven is that of an aunt and a niece on Earth. Considering how close Tela and I have become, the long-time friendship between Sash and Tela, and Tela’s interest in customs from my world, I can’t say that I’m surprised.
At six months old, Aven pulls herself up to a standing position by placing her hands on a stool. She never stays erect for very long and eventually wobbles and falls to her rear. She sticks her bottom lip out and lowers her eyebrows, making an adorable pouty face when it happens. But never once does she cry or shed a tear.
Sash and I cheer loudly when, at seven months old, Aven takes her first step. Over the next few morrows, we take her to the top of the Empty Hill and help her walk across the soft grass. Before we know it, she’s trotting back and forth between us with a smile on her face.
Once our lives finally settle into a consistent routine, I decide to make good on my promise to teach soccer to the children of Krymzyn. Under an enormous willow in the grove of thread trees, I find the Weaver Nina to ask her to make a few balls and a net for the goal.
On a trip to the Mount, I want to ask Wren if he can make the goal frames. Tela accompanies me to the broad clearing where the Constructs work. Surrounded by blue-needled pines, the Constructs are putting away their tools at the end of the morrow when we arrive.
Near the center of the meadow, I spot Wren cleaning up his workspace with his short, curly hair aglow with the magenta of a Construct. When he lifts a large, marble mold from the ground to the top of one of the table-like slabs, I’m impressed by his strength, especially considering how lanky he is. He notices Tela and me walking across the clearing and stops what he’s doing.
I quickly explain the
