by BC Powell
Ten morrows after conception, Sash begins to show. Given that pregnancy in Krymzyn lasts less than half the time it does on Earth, I guess it makes sense it would happen so soon. I first notice when I’m about to leave our habitat one morrow. I pause by the entrance to the waterfall cavern to say goodbye to Sash.
Unaware that I’m watching her, she steps under the fall and raises her face to the spill. As the water splashes off the top of her head and glides down her hair, she tenderly runs one hand over the slight curve of her stomach. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and I want her to know.
“Sash,” I say.
With her face still pointing up at the ceiling, her reply is sharp. “What, Chase?”
I stare at her for a few seconds before saying anything. “Never mind. I’ll see you later.”
I turn away and leave our habitat.
With each passing morrow, Sash’s routine is essentially the same. I see her sometimes when I travel across the Delta, and she briefly fills me in on her morrow before we go to sleep. During the early part of the morrow, she visits the trees in her hunting region and checks the roots and limbs to make sure they’re healthy. In the latter part, she usually sits on a hill near Home and watches the children.
When I complete my traveling duties each morrow, I meet Sash at our habitat. I paint, she exercises or meditates, and we sometimes go for walks. Even though we’re right beside each other while strolling through the Delta, miles and miles of distance seem to separate us.
As the curve in her stomach becomes more pronounced, Sash picks up several loose-fitting black tops from Market. Two of the tables that reside under the enormous canopy at Market consist entirely of items for babies and pregnant women.
Displaying what would be called “nesting” behavior on Earth, Sash brings a steel cradle, small mattress, and various other items to our habitat. The supplies include several of what they call “swaddling cloths.” Large enough to wrap an infant in, the rectangles of soft, white fabric are the Krymzyn equivalent of a baby blanket.
Every time I enter our habitat, I notice that the baby things are neatly arranged, but often in different places than they were the prior morrow. Sash becomes obsessive about finding the most functional layout. If I move something even an inch, she chastises me and then re-arranges everything in an entirely new way. My response is to disappear inside my studio and paint.
Whenever Darkness falls, I meet Sash on a hill overlooking one of the trees in her region. I scan the countryside for Murkovin while she sits on the grass and stares at the awakened tree. After each Darkness passes, I make a numeric entry on a hand-made calendar that I keep in my studio to track how many are left. As more and more morrows pass, I feel a growing sense of panic that I haven’t come up with a new way to address what I consider a dilemma of mammoth proportion.
While standing on a hilltop during Darkness about halfway through her pregnancy, I glance at Sash. She’s studying the tree with what appears to be intense longing in her eyes. The fire at the core of Sash’s being—fulfilling her purpose in Krymzyn—has been temporarily extinguished.
I realize that maybe a big part of her withdrawal from me is the result of missing the interaction with sustaining trees while they’re awake. And then it hits me. Maybe there’s something I can do to help her feel that again, even if only vicariously. More importantly, maybe it will reopen the lines of communication between us that we’ve completely lost.
Over the next few morrows, a plan fully takes shape in my mind. I can’t honestly say that it’s the best plan I’ve ever come up with, but it’s the only one I have. When the next Darkness falls, I meet Sash on top of the Empty Hill with a pack of empty stakes slung over my shoulder.
“What are you doing with those?” she asks over the howling wind.
“Role reversal,” I answer loudly.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m you, you’re me,” I say with the rain stinging my cheeks. “You can talk me through getting sap.”
She vigorously shakes her head. “It won’t work, Chase.”
“I’ve watched you enough times that I think I can do it. Besides, Ovin’s tree likes me. You told me so. That’s why I picked this Darkness.”
“The tree respects you,” she replies with the volume of her voice a little louder and her tone a bit more incensed, “but that doesn’t mean it will let you reach its trunk. Apprentice Hunters train for hundreds of morrows before ever getting one stake in the bark.”
“They don’t have you helping them,” I say.
“You’re not a Hunter!” she yells.
“Can I just try?”
Her eyes widen with exasperation. “Do you want Ovin’s tree to kill you?”
“I don’t think that will happen,” I say, keeping my voice calm to avoid an all-out fight.
“Why are you so stubborn?” she snaps.
“That’s hysterical! You calling me stubborn?”
“I can’t allow this!”
“Don’t worry,” I grumble. “I won’t hurt the tree.”
Without waiting for a response, I grab one stake in my hand and drop the pack and my spear to the ground. I breeze past Sash and sprint down the hill. Watching the branches lash through the air in front of me, I plan my course of attack.
“Chase!” Sash yells from behind me. “Stop!”
Ignoring her command, I duck under the first limb I reach, leap over the next, and cut safely around the third. The fourth branch proves to be my downfall. After it slams into my gut, the branch throws me backwards towards the Empty Hill. As soon as my rear hits the ground, another limb swoops down at me. I roll to my hands and knees, scamper across the slippery grass, and dive just out of the branch’s reach.
Lying flat on my stomach, I lift my head to look at Sash. Shaking her head, she’s still standing at the top of the Empty Hill. She’s also trying to hide a smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen from her since I returned to our habitat after the Ritual of Balance.
“Don’t worry!” I call out to her. “I got this!”
“Think more moves ahead!” she shouts. “You have to anticipate what every branch of the tree will do.”
As she steps down the side of the hill, I jump to my feet and turn towards the tree. Charging under the branches again, I realize that all I’ve done by embarking on this quest is to anger the tree. I base that conclusion on the fury of the branches that whip in my direction and the ferocity of their blows. I try to get out of the way, but I can’t even dodge the first one. The tree seems to know every move I’m about to make.
One branch barrels into my chest at the same time another one takes my legs out from underneath me. Sprawled on my back, I look up at a third bough plummeting down from high above. Even though I’m able to cover my face with my arms, a few gashes rip across my skin on impact. Once the branch whipsaws away, Sash grabs me under my arms and pulls me to safety.
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 for both of us.”
“It always feels better to talk with you about things.”
“It does feel better,” she replies, “thanks to your awful attempt at getting sap.”
I smile at her. “I have a lot more respect for what Hunters do after that.”
“I’m sure the tree admires you for at least trying,” she says.
“I’ll stick to traveling from now on.”
We both slip our arms around each other. As soon as our bodies press together, I feel a kick against my stomach from our daughter.
“I think she approves,” I say in Sash’s ear.
Chapter 7
While skimming over the dirt road from the Mount to the Delta, my motion unexpectedly flutters. The muscles in my arms strain while trying to keep a transport full of newly-made tables and stools under control. As Darkness descends, the light overhead seeps into the edges of the clouds. Like someone else is jamming on the brakes, my speed is instantly cut in half.
“Seventy,” I whisper.
The weeks since my unsuccessful attempt at taking sap from Ovin’s tree have flown by. They’ve also been a complete one-eighty from the early part of Sash’s pregnancy. After the lines of communication between Sash and me reopened, we immersed ourselves in our time together. She even let me help her arrange, re-arrange, and then re-arrange yet again all the baby things in our habitat.
We’ve come to grips with our daughter dwelling at Home by making plans for how we can always be active in her life. Although we can’t change the ways of Krymzyn, as Sash proved after my Ritual of Purpose, she can bend them. But when all is said and done, I’ve accepted that our child should be raised in the same way that other children in this world are. Sash was right in her proclamation that it’s the only way our daughter won’t feel different.
With a combination of tickles and stings, the molecules of my body sail through the rain that begins to fall. I glance over my shoulder at Larn and the streaking Kale with his transport in tow. From one side of the road behind them, Jeni angles in from the Barrens.
If we’d still been on the Mount when Darkness fell, we would have stayed there until it ended. Fortunately, since we’re past the halfway mark, we’ll continue to the Delta as fast as we can. Our protocol in a situation like this to leave the transports inside the gate, speed to where our respective Hunters are so we can keep watch during Darkness, and then return to the gate when Darkness is over to take the transports to Market. Since it’s close to the end of the morrow, I’m hoping Tela will take care of my transport for me so I can be with Sash.
As I return my attention to the path in front of me, Roen and Tela zoom to the road from the wasteland. After covering the last few miles to the river, we all come out of our blends. Knowing our priority during Darkness is getting to the Delta, no one breaks their stride while sprinting over the bridge.
Trailing Tela and Roen by twenty yards, I cross over the steel arch in the center of the bridge. On the downslope, tremendous waves from the river occasionally smash against the sides of the bridge and spray around me. Cavu swings both gate doors open for us just before we reach them. I pass through the gate and then slide to a stop beside Tela and Roen.
After dropping the transport handles to the ground, I snatch my spear from the back of the wagon. Once the rest of the Travelers make it safely inside the wall, we all rip our boots off our feet. A mighty clang rings out over the squall when Cavu slams the gate doors shut.
“Get to your Hunters,” Larn yells to the group.
As everyone starts to speed away in different directions, I reach out a hand and grab Tela by the arm.
“I need a huge favor,” I say. “After
Darkness, will you take my transport to Market? Sash will be having the baby and I want to stay with her.”
“Of course,” she replies, but her face wrinkles with confusion. “Why would you want to be with her for that?”
“It’s just the way it is in my world,” I answer, wanting to keep the explanation as brief as possible. “Thanks, Tela. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m honored to help.”
As Tela runs away, I sink to one knee and jam my fingers into the ground.
“Sash,” I say. “We just got back from the Mount. I’ll meet you at the tree farthest to the east.”
A few seconds later, I hear her voice. “I’ll stay in our habitat, but you should keep watch until Darkness is over.”
“I’ll be there as soon as it ends,” I tell her.
I spring from the ground and run across the slick grass to the south. The moment a few shafts of dull light pop into my vision, I burst forward in them. After a short travel over the rolling hills, I stop on the top of one that overlooks the easternmost tree in Sash’s hunting region.
While I scan the stormy hills, my hands tremble around the shaft of my spear. A combination of excitement and anxiety is causing my heart to pound harder and harder. With my twenty-fourth birthday only a few months away, I’m about to become a father.
“Come on!” I shout at the clouds.
The dark masses ignore my impatience. Another hour of storm agonizingly ticks away. Wind whips through the valleys and rain descends from the sky, but the only other movement around me is the glaring tree in the meadow at the foot of the hill.
“That’s enough!” I yell at the sky.
This time, Darkness seems to adhere to my will. As soon as the first rays of light cut across the sky, I race to our habitat and charge through the tunnel. When I enter the main cavern, Sash is relaxing on the bed with her back leaning against a pillow that’s wedged between her and the wall.
