“Go to your room.”
Barra had never experienced quiet anger before, and certainly not from her mother. The sound of it was potent and enervating, a disappointment strong enough to drain the very will from Barra. Her limbs felt weak and rubbery, and though she fought against it, her lips trembled. Her eyes stung with wet.
When Barra had rushed in through the front doorweave she’d been frantic. Her mother had calmed her down, hugged her and held her until her heart was steady and her mind clear. They’d opened milkweed pods together, and her mother added soothing herbs to the cloudy sweet contents. She’d broken fireseeds into the tonics too, to warm them, and as Barra had watched their tiny bubbles float to the surface, she’d sniffed the familiar aroma and felt safe again.
Barra had told her mother the story of her day, and when she finished, a silence had begun and endured until those words, “Go to your room,” had marched from her mother’s mouth. Go to her room?! It wasn’t right! Barra sat there glaring with pools burgeoning in her eyes. Going to her room was the last thing she wanted to do! She wanted to stay right there in the kitchen with her mother forever.
Barra didn’t budge. After another prolonged silence, her mother said, “You are very selfish, Barra.”
Stunned, Barra sank away from her mother and that was enough for the welling tears to finally spill down her cheeks. Brace’s eyes also began to shimmer. “Did you think of me when you ran off to the Middens?”
“I did!” Barra erupted, hurt and disbelieving.
The glare from her mother shut her up. “Really? You did? What do you think I would be doing tonight, if you didn’t come home? How do you think I would feel with each passing buckle that I couldn’t find you? Not knowing what happened?” Her mother paused, choking on her words, “You have your father’s sense of adventure… and you have his selfishness.” One tear rolled out of her mother’s eye, over the gray fur just beneath, trailed quickly down the white of her cheek, and then fell to the plush grass floor where it landed without a sound.
Barra sat, stunned. She was crying without blinking.
Her mother took a deep breath. “Go to your nestroom, Barra,” she said. There was an implied “please” in her tone as though she was too emotionally exhausted to continue.
Barra stood up, and mind-numb, walked out of the kitchen. She sat alone, and after a while her defiant nature returned. She stood up and roughly wiped away her tears. Pacing her room, she decided to confront her mother. Barra had done nothing wrong! She was exploring to protect their home, to find out what was out there! Her mother should’ve been proud! Her father would have been proud!
The conversation wasn’t over. Dipping her paws into the waterfull in her nestroom, Barra carried a handful to her mouth, lapped at it twice, and then splashed the rest over her face. She repeated the ritual. She felt better, cooler, almost ready. She walked to the patch of drymoss she grew beside the entrance, and nuzzled her cheeks against it. As she finished up, fanning her whiskers, she overheard voices in the kitchen.
Barra listened in.
“… for Jerrun, the head of the Council of Elders.” Her mother.
“He doesn’t like to be disturbed. Nope. Nope.” One of her mother’s Rushes by the broken cadence of his speech. Barra didn’t immediately recognize which one.
“I know my place. He’ll receive a message from me without argument. I need you to be my fastest messenger tonight.” Must be Nevel, Barra thought. Her mother continued, “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, yes. Ready.” Nevel gave up his doubts, and sounded so eager he bordered impatience.
“Assemble the Council for an emergency meeting. I will address them tomorrow night. No exceptions. Kudmoths attacked my daughter in the Middens today. The Creepervine has finally risen up out of the darkness, and it cannot be ignored any longer. Summon Venress Vallor Starch, and Vens Yorg and Darby Fenroar as well. Thank you, Jerrun.”
“That’s all? That’s it?”
“Yes. And please, return to me when you’ve finished with Jerrun. I need to know that he heard me. He knows not to ignore me in these matters, but he may need persuading. Watch him for me, mark his attitude. I want to know how he reacts.”
“Sure, sure. Got it.”
“Go then,” her mother sounded relieved. “And thank you.”
Barra didn’t expect more, but she listened for a while longer regardless. As her mother shuffled around the kitchen, Barra was too distracted to remember they were fighting. So much new information was buzzing around in her head, she felt like she couldn’t keep track of it all. Another bout with her mother didn’t seem relevant anymore.
Barra considered sneaking into her father’s study again, but thought better of it as she imagined more quiet anger. Even as she thought about ways she could get in and out without being caught, her body instinctually prepared for sleep. She circled and picked at her bedding ferns, and then lay down. Her mind continued in a million directions, fighting her body’s need for rest.
Eventually, her body won.
Throughout the night, Barra’s sleep was disturbed by nightmares. Her room became liquid, tarry black, and she woke up drowning in it. She fell asleep again only to run from a darkness that chased her over an endless stretch of time and trees. When it finally suffocated her dreamscape, she woke gasping for breath.
Awake in the space between dreams, Barra stared into the shadowy corners of her nestroom, her imagination untethered from reality. She was sure the darkness was growing and moving, and morphing into something terrible.
By the time the soft light of morning poured out of the brightlumens around her nestroom, Barra was still tired, but glad the night was over. Barra could hear her mother working in the kitchen as she got up, stretched, and groomed herself. Her mother’s words from the night before stayed unwelcome in her mind, and it was with considerable effort that she threw them out. She was hurt, angry with her mother, but she had to let it go. There were more important matters.
As far as Barra had known, her mother had always been a gardener. Now that Barra had the notion that her mother could assemble the Elder Council at will, her mind was flooded with questions. Also, she wanted to ask about the Creepervine and Kudmoths, but any discussion would be an admission of eavesdropping, and reveal that she’d found her father’s journals. Both were trouble.
Finished preening, Barra extended her claws into the wall to sharpen them. Flinching from the soreness, she haltingly tried to put an edge back on the claws that remained. She arched and flexed her back, and cut thin shreds from the bark of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she left her nestroom and entered the kitchen. Her mother was at the opposite door with her back to Barra.
“Wait, from who? Jerrun?” Brace was distraught as she interrupted the odd-looking Rush mid-delivery. “Where’s Nevel?” she interrogated the messenger. He had cataract-cloudy eyes and a twitchy smile. Completely distracted, Brace didn’t notice Barra slinking into the room.
“I don’t know any Nevel.” The Rush rolled his eyes, making it clear for Brace exactly how little he cared. He asked, “Would you like to hear the message or not?”
Something happened to Nevel, Brace thought, and Jerrun knows about it. Why else would he send his own messenger? Suspicious, Brace gestured for the old Rush to continue.
“Where was I? Right. The Elders will convene this evening as you requested, but be advised, Brace, it is exactly this kind of request, if found frivolous, that will result in the loss of your inherited right to audience. See you tonight,” the Rush concluded with a lick of his lips, expecting payment.
Brace was careful to say nothing about how she felt about Jerrun’s thinly veiled threat. She had no doubt that Jerrun’s Rush had the same instructions she’d sent with hers: wait and listen. She waved the Rush away, and said, “Thank you. I’m sorry, was there something else?”
“I’m a little hungry, actually.” The Rush was incredulous.
“Oh, how terrible of me. Honestly, I’m embarrassed by the state of my wyrmwood, especially compared to what you must be used to, being in Jerrun’s care and all. I really have nothing to offer. I’m sure you understand,” Brace dared the messenger to challenge her.
The Rush weighed his response carefully, and then he spoke like the words were acid on his tongue, “I won’t press you then, of course, but you should tend to your tree, Venress Swiftspur. It may be that’s the reason your Nevel has gone missing.” His face twitched as he feigned a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too,” Brace responded contemptuously.
Barra eased out of the room before her mother turned back in. When Barra came in again, she announced herself with an obnoxious yawn. Her mother had already busied herself in the kitchen as though last night hadn’t happened, as though she hadn’t just confirmed an evening meeting with the Council. Barra felt awkward, not knowing what to say to broach the morning silence.
Fortunately, Barra didn’t have to contemplate her opening words for long. Her mother, in a non-negotiable tone, said, “I’m going to be gone tonight when you get home. Please be here before nightbloom, though. I’ll leave dinner on the table.”
“Mom, I, uh…” Barra tried to stammer out an apology, but it wouldn’t come. She wasn’t sure she wanted to apologize.
Her mother stopped what she was doing at the waterfull, and then turned and stared calmly at her daughter. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said before returning to her work.
“I know, Mom,” Barra sighed. She realized her run through the Middens hadn’t just disappointed her mother. Barra had scared her. And something more serious had come from it too, maybe not her fault, but something her mother had to deal with. Barra said the only thing she could, “I’m sorry.” An apology that came from her core. A sorry for every time she’d disobeyed.
Without looking up from washing fruit, her mother raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ll understand someday.” She shook her head, and explained, “That’s what they used to tell me. But I didn’t get it then, and I doubt you’ll get it now.” After a thoughtful moment, she stopped washing and faced her daughter. She said resolutely, “I am proud of you, Barra. You’re willful and determined, the best kind of daughter I could ever hope for. Yesterday though? Yesterday, you showed poor judgment. You didn’t have to go down there alone.”
“But, Dad always went alone,” Barra argued weakly.
Brace interrupted, one finger pointed sharply at her daughter, “Your father was fiercely, and irrationally, independent! It cost him... it cost us.” She took a deep breath, and continued, “You don’t have to emulate everything about him.”
Brace reached out to her daughter. Without hesitation, Barra jumped up into her mother’s outstretched arms. The warmth between them glowed, and Barra imagined she could see it.
They held each other a few beats longer than an everyday hug, until they surrendered to it. Brace had a shine in her eyes, as she examined her daughter. She was judging whether her daughter was presentable and ready to be out in the world. Really though, she wanted a little more time before letting her Burbur go for the day.
Barra wandered alone for a while. The treescape seemed different. Not scary, but not safe either. She was drawn to the Middens again, but not ready to return, she found herself headed to the Coppice. Venress Starch was seldom there two days in a row, and knowing she’d been summoned, Barra thought it unlikely today would be an exception. Still, Plicks and Tory would probably be around and at least she could talk to them. She wished Doctor Fenroar hadn’t asked them to keep quiet.
Barra pictured the Elder Council meeting. She envisioned Venress Starch testifying with her mother and the Fenroars, and how strange it would be for them to be on the Dais together. She’d never been to a Council meeting, and thought of the Elders as spectral figures with overgrown claws, and icy, empty eyes. But that was ridiculous. She’d seen Jerrun before. She knew better. Still, she was haunted by the notion.
At last, she spotted her friends walking together. Barra rushed over to them. They were talking about Plicks’ latest attempt to fly by his scruffs—he practiced frequently in an open area of the Coppice. She bounced around impatiently, waiting for them to finish up, and they pretended not to notice her. Finally, she couldn’t hold back any longer. She grabbed them close and whispered, “My mom is going to an Elder Council meeting at the Dais tonight!”
The boys stared back blankly. As they eventually caught up to her words, they exchanged skeptical glances.
“I think she’s got some weeds in her brain,” Plicks whispered to Tory through the corner of his mouth.
Tory put his hand on her forehead for a quick check, and said, “She’s feverish, maybe delusional.”
Barra lowered her head and glared. “Yeah. That’s right. Weeds in my brain. Delusional. Could be. Maybe? Or maybe, my mom is talking to the Elders tonight!” Before either of the boys had a chance for a snarky retort, she added knowingly, “About the Creepervine and the Kudmoths.”
Tory still thought she was a few seedlings shy of a garden. “I’m lost. The Creepervine again? What’s a Kudmoth?”
“I don’t know!” she said, eyes flashing enthusiastically. “But I was chased all the way out of the Middens last night by ‘em!” she spoke in a loud whisper-tone, huddled in tight with her friends.
“You were in the Middens last night?” Plicks asked, taken aback. “I thought your mom banned you for like, well, forever?”
Tory added, “When you left us yesterday, didn’t you tell us you were going home?”
“Aw, come on, Tory. I just didn’t want you to worry. Either of you,” Barra implored. She turned to Plicks hoping he would take her side. “Someone had to see what that stuff was that attacked the Tricopterus. Right?”
“Whoa, don’t bring poor Ari into this,” Plicks didn’t have a lot of practice confronting Barra, but he knew when he was being manipulated, and he didn’t like it.
Tory imposed himself between the two with his hands raised before they could start a real argument, and said, “Let’s just try to figure this out. When you left us yesterday, what happened?”
Barra told the story, ending with how she overheard the message from Jerrun. At the conclusion of her tale there was a lengthy silence. Barra was impatient and prompted her friends, “So what do you think?”
“I think you’re planning to crash the Elder Council tonight, so I’ll save you the trouble of asking me to join you. I’m in,” Tory said, eagerly. Then he asked the nervous Kolalabat, “Plicks?”
Plicks rubbed his face with both of his hands, squeezing and wrinkling the many folds of his skin into strange, inscrutable expressions. When he stopped, he had to blink several times before he could focus again. He was trying to come to terms with his anxiety. “What are the rules regarding the Elder Council?” he asked, hoping for an easy out.
Barra started, “We can just…”
Plicks stopped her short with a look.
Tory answered, “Elder Council is open to everyone.” He stopped to think about it a moment longer, “But that doesn’t mean they want a bunch of bups around either. We could watch from a distance, try not to draw attention.” Shrugging and nodding his head nonchalantly, he added, “No reason not to try.”
Plicks rubbed his face again, and though his voice was muffled, he said, “Fine.”
They spent the rest of the day together. They didn’t have any leaves from the journal to read, like Barra had hoped, but they had plenty to talk about regardless. They worked out the details for getting together later, and went their separate ways.
After dinner, they would meet again in the Reach.