by Rhett DeVane
“How do you know that for sure?” Sim asked in a low voice.
Elsbeth patted her robe above her heart. “I feel it, in here.”
They sat for a moment before Elsbeth said, “You took Taka-Herb’s elixir recipe to the lowlanders, didn’t you?”
Sim nodded.
“Did it help?”
“Stitch says it may cure tick fever, eventually. The formula isn’t exactly right for lowlanders, but at least they are no longer dying.”
“Thank the Light,” Elsbeth said. “You want to atone somehow, make it all okay. I understand. Trust me, I do. But when will it ever be enough, Sim? When will you feel—”
“Like I deserve to be alive?”
She reached over and grasped his hand. “Come back to us, Sim. Please, come back.”
Jondu plucked rounded pebbles from a small pond. Perfect for Fall Festival gifts. Sim would be thrilled. The rocks held a mottled, green cast not seen in their valley rocks. This crescent-shaped pool, the same one she had passed five months prior, was not marked on either of her maps. Either the previous travelers weren’t so great at map-making or Jondu had bumbled onto a new landmark. She used a stubby pencil to sketch on the parchment.
“I’m officially naming you Lost Lake,” Jondu announced aloud, to the surprise of the two squirrels burying acorns nearby. A turtle lifted its head and slipped off the log where it had been sunning. Jondu watched the ripples fan out from the spot where it had plopped into the water.
Lost Lake. A fitting name, since she had managed to stay lost most of the summer. Sure, she might have begged directions from Genevieve, to point a wing toward the Deep Mountain clans. The great owl checked in with Jondu off and on, before moving to better hunting grounds.
But no. If any traveler was going to locate those other one-spirit clans, it would be her. She would do it by herself, even if she had to start all over this spring, and the one after that.
Jondu checked the position of the sun. Two hours until it painted the sky red and orange. The traveling would grow more difficult in the deep woods, but slightly less dangerous at the same time. No need for the constant vigilance against the day predators.
She stored the pebbles in her pack and brushed dirt from her hands. According to the markings she had left when she passed this way before, many hours of hard day and night walking lay ahead if she wanted to reach her home valley in time for the Fall Festival, and she still had to cross the Oriah River.
Jondu shifted her pack and tightened the cinch line.
No time to waste.
Chapter Twenty-four
Mari set down a stack of thick winter robes and rested one hand on Elsbeth’s shoulder. “She’ll come. You must believe.”
Elsbeth blinked, turned to face Mari. “What?”
“You’ve been staring at that one corner of the clearing since we came topside.”
Elsbeth took note of the festival preparations. Taproot usually carried the tonics, most of the food, and directed placement of the tablerock. Not this time. And still . . . things moved smoothly. Every clan member pitched in.
Grant stepped beside them. “How many sitting stones shall I put into place?”
“Twelve smaller, one larger one,” Elsbeth answered. “Then plenty for any animals that might show up.” The squirrels, raccoons, and rabbits were as dependable as the afternoon showers, but who knew if the foxes and frogs would appear? The opossums might trundle by for a moment or two, but they preferred their meals rotten.
Grant scrunched his eyebrows together. “Thirteen stones?”
“No matter if Sim, Jondu, and Taproot aren’t here, I want seats placed in their customary spots. Select a special one for Jen. She will always be a part of this clan, no matter that she now lives in the Light. Put Faith next to me, and Zeke by you. They act up when they sit together.” Elsbeth chuckled. “Besides, Mari can probably use the break.”
Grant touched his hand to his forehead in a quick salute, then moved away to oversee the seating arrangements.
Taka-Herb appeared at the periphery of the circle, heaving three crocks of amber liquid. She slid them off the shoulder harness with a huff, then ambled over to their group. “Sure hope the tonic turns out right. Tasted a little off to me. Guess I don’t quite have Taproot’s recipe mastered. It’s drinkable, but there’s a little aftertaste of—”
“Snail spit,” Faith provided. She stood beside the medicine woman, grinning.
Elsbeth ruffled Faith’s fine, yellow hair. “Never tasted snail spit before.”
“And neither has this one.” Taka-Herb put her hands on Faith’s shoulders and swiveled the younger ninety degrees. “Go see if Slate and Brick need any help setting the tablerock.”
Faith scurried away. “That child is too smart for her own good,” Taka-Herb said. “She’s already committed most of my cures to memory. Guess I have an apprentice, whether I want one or not.”
In a few minutes, the sun dipped low in the sky. Elsbeth’s favorite time of day, the gloaming, when faces turned to outlines against the fiery sundown and the night creatures shifted in the forest. Where were the Pensworthy owls? Should be here by now. Ah, well. That’s how it went, when you threw a party in the Emerald Mountain woods.
No telling who, or what, might show up.
Elsbeth raised her arms into the air, the signal for calming. The clan—minus three and Taproot—looked her way and the animals stopped their chatter. For the first time since she and Sim had escaped into the Emerald Mountains, no Pensworthy owls watched from the pines.
The First Mother pushed disappointment aside. Dig within, her inner voice coached.
“We thank the Light for the harvest. For friendship, for love, for family.” She closed her eyes. Her voice quivered at first, then grew stronger.
Blessed is the Light. The life and the Light are one. We are the Light. We are one.
The old song lifted her. Voices joined in. Without looking, she picked out Mari’s sweet soprano, Taka-Herb’s alto, and the fresh voices of Faith and Zeke. Gabby’s folksy bass thrummed beneath Brick’s slightly off-key alto. Slate’s song sounded ethereal, as if the Light itself filtered from his throat.
Another tone joined in, one so familiar Elsbeth instantly pegged its owner. She opened her eyes.
Sim met her gaze from the edge of the foxfire’s glowing ring. He stepped into the circle. Other voices faltered. Elsbeth’s throat constricted and she closed her mouth. Tears washed her cheeks.
The clan grew silent, waiting. Sim spread his arms and tipped back his head. He sang the old song, alone at first.
Then a second voice echoed from the darkness.
Elsbeth tore her gaze from Sim and searched the shadows. Could it be? Her heart thrummed.
Jondu The Traveler emerged from the forest. She crossed the clearing to the Festival circle and dropped her packs. Two Pensworthy owls swooped low then lifted to perch nearby. Silent sentinels.
Sim and Jondu harmonized. One by one, the clan members joined.
Elsbeth clasped her hands together. Her joyous voice blended with the others, lifting into the Emerald Mountain night.
Blessed is the Light. The life and the Light are one. We are the Light. We are one.
THE END
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Elsbeth and Sim, Book One of the Tales from the Emerald Mountain series, is available in Kindle and print versions. Visit Elsbeth and Sim ordering page
About the author
Rhett DeVane is a true Southerner, born and raised in the Florida panhandle. For the past thirty-plus years, Rhett has made her home in Tallahassee, located in Florida’s Big Bend area, where she splits her workdays between her two professions: dental hygienist and author.
Rhett is the author of five published mainstream humorous adult fiction novels set in her hometown of Chattahoochee, Florida, a place with “two stoplights and a mental institution on the main drag”: The
Madhatter’s Guide to Chocolate, Up the Devil’s Belly, Mama’s Comfort Food, Cathead Crazy, and Suicide Supper Club. She is coauthor of two novels: Evenings on Dark Island with Larry Rock and Accidental Ambition with Robert W. McKnight.
The Tales from the Emerald Mountains series is her first middle grade fiction.
To learn more about Rhett DeVane and her writing, visit her website:
www.rhettdevane.com
Acknowledgements
Rhett wishes to thank:
The Wild Women Writers group for their expertise and friendship.
Gina Edwards: amazing editor and friend.
Elizabeth Babski: talented artist, cover designer, and friend.
All of my dear friends who continue to boost and support me.
Her readers. Without you, her words go to waste.
Her family, both the blood ties and otherwise ties.
And to the universe, for sending muses to light her way.
