As Val pushed his sister closer to the main hut, Petari twisted out of her brother’s grip. “I don’t want to stay here and look after the baby.”
“You love Ruthie.” Val glanced back at Luco and Storma talking.
“So? Doesn’t mean I want to look after her all the time.” Petari frowned. “I could help her more if I explore. I found this place and the bananas, didn’t I?”
“You’re safer staying with the group,” Val said. “I don’t want you exploring without me. If I hadn’t been with you when we came in here, who knows if you would’ve made it back.”
Petari rolled her eyes. “Stop babying me, Val.”
“It’s for your own good,” her brother said. “Now stay here. I’m going to see if Luco needs help setting up traps.” Val strode away, and Petari sat on the step of the hut with a huff. She bounced the cooing baby on her knee, but all the while, her eyes were on the tree line. After a few breaths, she stopped, glanced at the other children in the village, then stood up, holding Ruthie close. She hurried over to the boy with the sloth eyes and presented him with the baby.
“Rosaman, I need you to look after your sister for a little while,” Petari said.
The boy looked surprised but said, “Oh, sure,” then took Ruthie into his arms.
Val had been lurking behind Luco, but he rushed over to his sister when he saw what she was doing. “Petari!”
“Do what you want. I’m going to explore,” she said.
Val glanced between Luco and his sister, regret ripping into the soil beneath him. After a few breaths, he said, “Fine, but I’m going with you.”
Petari smiled, then waved Val to the tree line south of the village.
Butterflies showed me what they saw. Arrow had done a good job of weaving the loose palms and branches into the living ones to make that section of forest seem impenetrable. Petari still ran over to it, and I braced myself for the moment they realized it wasn’t as thick as it looked.
“They are testing your fence,” I told Arrow, who had finished his passion fruit and gone to the river’s nearby finger to wash his face.
He stood up, alert. “Did they get through?”
“Two of them are going there now. It’s Petari. I told you her curiosity was big.”
I turned my attention back to the village, where Petari was dangerously close, her brother only a few reluctant steps behind. Just branches and leaves stood between them and our secret. I held my leaves still as I waited.
“It’s really thick. We’re going to get scraped to bits in there,” Val said.
“Now who’s being a baby?” She smirked at him.
“I’m being practical. You heard what Storma said. We don’t have medicine. We need to stay safe.”
“It’ll be fine,” Petari said, then stepped up to the forest brush.
Don’t come through, I warned, even though they would never hear my voice. Stay back.
Petari raised her arm, grabbed hold of a branch, and pushed it aside. “Whoa, this isn’t even part of the tree. Look, it’s just sitting here. But—”
“WHAT is that SMELL?” Val ran back a few steps, plugging his nose.
Petari followed, her nose crinkled to ward off the offending scent.
“What did you do?” Val shouted.
“Nothing, I just—”
“You did something. It wasn’t like that before.” He coughed, like the horrible smell had crawled down his throat. “Forget it. We’re better off right here.”
He dragged his sister back toward the others.
I released my leaves, spread out my roots. Said a silent “Thank you” to the stink bugs.
“That was close, Arrow,” I told him.
“The stink bugs worked?”
“They did.”
“Yes!” Arrow grinned, as Curly danced around his feet.
“But you know what this means, don’t you?”
“I know,” he said, his voice tired. “I have to stay away from the humans.”
“Yes. And we have to mend the Anima right now.”
9
IN THE FAR SOUTH, NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE WATERFALL, A FLURRY OF HUMMINGBIRDS SUPPED AT A BRIGHT HELICONIA BUSH. UNTIL THE FLOWERS SUDDENLY DROOPED, SHRIVELED, AND TURNED TO DUST. THE HUMMINGBIRDS FLEW AWAY IN SEARCH OF MORE NECTAR.
The human herd stayed clear of the south side of the village after the smell rose. Arrow had placed so many of the bugs there, the stink they made after they were disturbed even drove the agouti away.
“We don’t have to worry about the humans for a while,” I told Arrow, “but they won’t stay away for long.”
“What are they doing now?” he asked, tucking in errant palm fronds within his nest. His words were light, but the uptick of his heartbeat told me it was more than curiosity. He liked learning about them. I understood. The herders were his own kind. But they were too dangerous to get close to.
“They’ve taken refuge near the smaller huts on the north side of the village, away from the stink.”
Arrow breathed in deeply. “Then we can try to fix the magic again. Did you see the palms near the village? They’re so bare. I’m worried about them.”
“I know. The Anima’s weakness is affecting the whole forest. I’ve been passing on nutrients when I can, but it’s not enough. We must get the magic fixed, for them and the curtain.”
The boy sighed. “I don’t know if I can. I feel like I’ve tried everything, but nothing has worked.”
“We just haven’t found the right way for you to access the Anima yet. We will.” It is easy to give up when thoughts turn to futility. I had seen it before with humans. But I needed Arrow to keep his belief strong.
Arrow nodded, even though cold uncertainty pulsed from his fingers.
“Okay,” he said, straightening. “I’ve tried digging deep in the soil, like you said the Forest Dwellers would tell their children to do. I’ve tried digging near the river and near the villages where they lived. I’ve even tried dancing while I dig with my toes. What else can I try?”
“When the magic is plentiful, I only have to dig deeper with my roots and I can feel it tingle up,” I explained. “From there, I picture what it is that’s needed and ask its help. But it was easy when the Anima was strong.”
“Is there a place the Forest Dwellers found the magic stronger than anywhere else?”
“I don’t believe so. They would connect with it wherever they were, even in the village.”
“Oh no.” Arrow frowned. “What if that herd finds the magic there by accident?” He swiped at Curly, who was bouncing on one of my thinner branches.
“If we can’t find it with all we are doing, they won’t either,” I said, trying to appease him. “But even if they did, the Anima could never be used for something bad. It is the life of the forest. It can only be used to strengthen us.”
“That’s good. But we still need to fix it fast.”
“Yes. Then we can hide and make the forest healthy again.”
A thin thread of sorrow leaked out from Arrow, but it was cut off quickly when Curly’s tail poked the top of his head from the branch above. He pushed her away.
“Not now, Curly. I have to think.”
She chattered her annoyance, then scampered down to the ground. Arrow’s eyes followed her and he shook his head. He leaned back in his nest, deep in thought. Then he sat up, looked over the side, and swung onto the branch below.
“Maybe if I hold on to your root, like I used to when you taught me things in the daydreams.” He climbed down quickly and jumped onto the mossy soil. “You can do the digging for me. That way we can dig even deeper together.”
We hadn’t done this for a long while. But when the boy was young, I used to show him all the wonders of the forest this way. How to spot a black caiman gliding through the river. How to track the trail of a jaguar. How to avoid antagonizing a giant otter. The images given to me by the dragonflies and birds had helped me teach Arrow where to find food and which foods he shoul
d avoid. But it took a lot of energy to share these dream images with Arrow, and once the magic had started to drain, I had to preserve it.
“It might work,” I told him. “It’s worth a try.”
At the base of my trunk, Arrow dug a shallow hole, exposing a thick root. He pushed aside the dirt, and I wriggled the root to loosen it. Curly helped too, scrabbling in the soil with two paws until there was enough space for Arrow to get a good hold.
“I’m ready,” Arrow said. “I reach out for the Anima and picture what I want, yes?”
“And ask for it to happen,” I told him.
“Okay.”
He glanced up at the orchid that was no longer blooming above his nest, then grasped the root, closed his eyes, and wished. And wished. And wished.
I wished too, digging deep with the soil, feeling for the tingle that usually accompanied the magic.
Curly patted Arrow’s knee with a paw, and the boy slowly opened one eye and gazed up at the orchid. It was the same. Just leaves and roots; no pink blossoms. A large leaf on the palm tree in front of Arrow turned yellow. As he watched, it bent in surrender, then tumbled to the ground.
“It’s not working,” he whispered.
Feeling his sadness, Curly scrambled in the dirt to go even deeper. But that sharpened Arrow’s pain.
“Maybe it’s because I have one hand instead of two.” His words were quiet, barely a whisper.
“No, Arrow, it’s—”
“Did the Forest Dwellers who got the magic have one hand?”
I paused, knowing my answer would not help. But I had to be honest. “They all had two.”
A tear soaked the ground beneath him, and I quickly tried to comfort him. “I’ve always told you, Arrow, your differences make you who you are. They make you unique, just like Curly is unique from all her brothers and sisters. Differences are to be celebrated, not condemned.”
The boy shook his head. “This is why I was abandoned.”
“We don’t know why you were abandoned. Perhaps the person was sick. Perhaps they had no food. Whatever their reason doesn’t matter. This is your home. One hand or two, you can do whatever you want to do, and you know that to be true. You have learned to climb the trees just as well as any of the monkeys, and they even have tails.”
He did not respond to my attempt at a joke.
“Let’s try again, Arrow. We will find what is missing.”
He stood up, pushing the dirt and leaves off his arms and feet. “No. I told you I can’t do it. I told you.” Frustration and sadness poured off him.
“Arrow…”
“I’m never going to be able to do it. I’m not like the Forest Dwellers. I can’t help the forest. I can’t help you.”
His voice was thick with tears.
“You have to beli—”
“I’m going to the Shimmer,” he said, then stalked off to the south, Curly scampering after him.
“Arrow! We must not give up!” I called, but he was already on a liana flying toward the cave.
The Shimmer was his favorite place in the forest. Whenever he felt bad, he went there for comfort, just as the Forest Dwellers had done rings ago. Gazing at the many colors and shiny stones that permeated the walls gave them a calm they didn’t seem to get anywhere else. Some of the great Forest Dwellers had gained inspiration and insight while they marveled at the Shimmer. I hoped Arrow would find that too.
I had seen the cave once in a dream sent by one of the Forest Dweller leaders of old. The breath taken in while he stood outside looking into the blackness. The call he threw in to scare off any predator. Then, once he knew it was safe, the steps he had taken inside, one drenched in sunlight and the next drowned in dark.
His heart had quickened here, just a bit. There is fear in the dark, the unknown, what cannot be seen, but when the other senses begin to ignite, the dark closes in like a hug. The Forest Dweller had breathed in deeply, letting the warm scents of the earth fill his lungs. Then, running his fingertips across the rock, he’d gone deeper, deeper, deeper, until, finally, light had returned and he could see the Shimmer.
Arrow had described it to me many times. A rocky sky that shimmered with color, illuminated by two thin holes that beckoned light from outside. After that light struggled through the tiny holes, it rejoiced in its freedom by touching every jagged edge of the cave surface. The rock of the curved walls and ceiling were different from the rocks by the river’s edge. These were dark but speckled with bits of Shimmer that caught the dancing light and twinkled in joy.
It was hard to be sad in such a place. Arrow’s face lit up when he talked about it, filled with wonder.
Like when he saw the magic… when the magic had worked.
My leaves dipped. If we could not mend the Anima, I worried for the forest and everything and everyone within it. We were already dying. All over the forest, trees and plants were shriveling. Animals were withering for lack of food. Even the root network was breaking down; the fungi that connected us all was ripping in places, making it harder for us to share. And now we had the threat of humans again.
How would we survive if we didn’t mend the Anima, make it stronger? Perhaps Arrow would find inspiration in the Shimmer. Perhaps he would discover something the Forest Dwellers had left behind that could help us. I could only ho—
Footsteps! Twigs snapping! Leaves ripping!
One of the humans was breaking through Arrow’s barrier to the south of the village. I reached out to the area, and a gecko provided me the picture. It was the girl. The nosy girl. The curious, unstoppable girl.
Petari.
I shook my leaves. I had been so busy focusing on Arrow and the Shimmer and the magic, I had not paid attention to the young human herd. And now, the girl was pushing through the dense brush, through the smell of the stink bugs, and coming our way.
The rest of the herd were playing some sort of game in the open field. I could feel the baby in the soil near them, crying again as Rosaman tried to soothe her.
None of them watched Petari, and in only a few seconds, she was on the other side.
Arrow needed to know about this, but my voice didn’t stretch to the Shimmer Cave. It was moments like this when I wished Arrow were an animal or insect; then perhaps I could’ve reached him at a distance like I could the rest of the forest’s residents. One call out to the butterflies, and my message would be passed from butterfly to butterfly, sending it to the farthest trees and bushes. But humans were different. Not all of them heard my call. And even if they did, Arrow was the only one who knew me in the forest now.
I asked flies to buzz his head, hoping he would understand it was a message from me. But he was too sad. He waved them away.
Perhaps I could keep the girl back myself.
Petari pushed past branches, clambered over roots. She took the wrong direction, but then found her way. She was good at exploring, at finding a path, even one not often taken.
She was headed right for the thick copse of trees. Right for the connection between the village and the river.
I had to stop her.
I called for help, and the dragonflies were closest. A swarm swung around and headed her way. The girl stepped closer, and the dragonflies surrounded her.
Petari lifted her arms to shield her head. “Go away!” They torpedoed her face and back and arms, but the girl kept trudging south.
She was close to the river now, so I begged frogs to stop her. Few were this far north. They had spawned in the south, where the water ran cleaner. Those that responded leaped up, one catching her shoulder, another her arm, but she squirmed out of their grasp with an “Eeewwwww!”
But her disgust didn’t stop her. It pushed her even closer to the crop of trees that grew from the lip of the water, the barrier to stop unwanted visitors from seeing what was hidden beyond the bend of the river. The area had become more overgrown with each passing ring, but it had thinned recently as trees had lost leaves and limbs. It didn’t slow Petari. And neither did the
frogs. She took a few more steps and…
She saw…
She gasped…
She knew there was more…
I could feel the excitement spark in her energy. Holding her breath, she pushed on, shoving leaves and twigs out of her way. Petari drove through the copse, then caught her breath when she came out on the other side.
“Wow!”
There would be no keeping her away now.
10
ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE RIVER, THE FLOWER BUDS AND LEAVES OF A YOUNG MALVA BUSH CURLED UP AND DROPPED OFF ONE BY ONE, UNTIL BARE TWIGS REMAINED. BUTTERFLIES THAT HAD BEEN ATTRACTED TO THE BUDS CHANGED DIRECTION.
Petari had found our secret.
“Is this where you come from?” she whispered.
She must’ve meant Arrow. Yes, she was trying to find him. My boy, who had been too reckless when he had helped her.
Petari stepped cautiously up to the tree roots that rose out of the soil. Some twisted up, braiding into a railing; others reached out, weaving a tongue that stretched over the water. Up and across, up and across, until they clasped the roots from trees on the other side of the river. A living bridge that had not been made for her.
Tentative fingertips touched the rough surface of the roots.
Perhaps she wouldn’t like the bridge.
She ran her palms over the crisscross weaving.
Perhaps she would be scared.
She put her toe on the tongue of roots that spread out from the river’s edge.
Perhaps she would give up.
But I knew better. The girl tested the bridge’s strength, held her breath, and stepped, stepped, stepped.
Holding tight to the railing of roots, Petari peered at the surface of the water beneath her. The bubbles and movement of something swimming under the surface didn’t scare her. Her fear had turned to excitement, soaking into the bark as she touched each strand that knotted and dove and curled around its neighbor. Eyes widening, she marveled at the living tapestry that had formed this pathway over the water.
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