for it to move again, to continue the throes of its death, but it did not move. Something silver flashed in the moonlight and the raveler wriggled its way out of the creature’s side, dropping into the dry autumn grass.
Talen picked up the raveler and it immediately stilled. He looked around. He hoped the ancestors had been there and gathered Da into safety. “Do you think they came?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” asked River.
“Those ribbons,” said the Creek Widow and trailed off. “So many questions.”
Earlier they had discussed the glorious visions of the woman or man, or whatever it was in the cave. He told the Creek Widow he’d seen its true form, but the Widow had questioned that—how did he know it hadn’t shown that awful visage to him on purpose? Indeed, the Creek Widow was right. There were so many questions for which they had no answers.
Talen looked into his sister’s eyes, then he took her hand and they walked back to the campfire to sit and drink tea.
The Creek Widow stayed back with the body for some time, talking to it, talking to Da. When she returned, he gave her another cup of tea. He motioned at the gauntlets and raveler case. “A little bit of knowledge,” said Talen. “That’s all that separated Da from the Divines.”
“In a way that’s true,” said River. “But in another it’s not. The Divines serve their own masters. But Da served the Creators.”
“At least what we know of them.”
“That is right,” said River. “He was more like one of the old gods than anything else.”
That set Talen back. The old gods were the stuff of stories and legend.
“Imagine what he could have done,” said River, “if he had been able to practice in the open.”
“He would have blessed the hens,” said Talen. “He would have multiplied their eggs.”
River looked sidelong at him. “How do you know he didn’t?”
“Goh,” said Talen. And he realized Da probably had. Their farm had prospered. Not always. The hens had died, after all, but even the peach trees seemed to bear more fruit than those of the neighbors.
“Da would be so pleased to know that the vision he worked for is now beginning to come to pass,” said River. “Not in the way he hoped, but coming to pass nevertheless.”
“Perhaps,” said the Creek Widow.
“We’ll be attacked on all sides,” said Talen.
“We will,” said River. “But we should have a season to prepare. And if we ultimately fail, we will go out like Da, fighting.”
Talen nodded. He wrapped the white gauntlets and raveler case in a cloth and placed them in a sack and put it aside. “If Da was like one of the old gods, does that also mean I have to worship you? Because I’m just not going to do it.”
River laughed then she hit him on the forehead with the heel of her palm. “You will always worship me.”
“I will,” said Talen. And he meant it.
They began to reminisce about Da and Mother. The Creek Widow added stories Talen had never heard before. Every remembrance seemed to call forth three more, and soon the bittersweet memories came as a flood.
So many memories.
Sugar and Legs woke to the Creek Widow’s laughter, and after being led to view the creature’s body, they joined Talen and River at the fire, drinking tea and adding the stories of their family. Nettle slept on. But the rest of them talked through the night, the fire crackling at their feet, the stars shining brightly above.
When the eastern sky began to lighten, Blue and Queen joined them, Blue hobbling up the hill on three legs. His hind leg was still worthless, but the injury was healing clean. Eventually he found Nettle and licked his face until he woke.
“Blue,” said Nettle in recognition. He turned and looked at the others by the fire. “What have I got to do to get something to eat?”
“He’s not all gone, is he?” said River.
“You only wish,” said Nettle.
Talen and River looked at each other. Could the old Nettle have come back?
But then Blue licked his face again and Nettle began to roll around like a toddler, playing with the dog.
Down at the farmstead Prince Conroy began to crow, and as the sun rose it turned the ripple of thin clouds a breathtaking gold and pink.
“We’ll need to lever that body onto a cart,” said Talen, “and take it home to Uncle Argoth.”
“No,” said River. “I think in this case we shall leave it where it is and