The winter passed peacefully. Mother taught me how to use Auntie's loom, which was much fancier than the one in the hut. We dyed linen threads together and she let me create my own design. The fabric ultimately became a skirt for me to wear. The colors were so erratic that Mother said it hurt her eyes, but I thought it looked like a rainbow in the water.
Despite my dislike for sewing, I loved weaving. Mother said it was in my blood since both she and Auntie had loved it, too. I made a bolt of cloth for Tsuki to take to his family, and they sent back an embroidered pouch that could be used to hold nice-smelling plants. Tsuki tried to visit us at least once a week, when he had a day off from his duties as the cobbler's apprentice. He always complimented me on the progress I made on any of my little projects, even though I knew my weaving didn't compare to Mother's.
When the snow finally began to melt, I started feeling anxious to return to our hut in the hills. I asked my mother about it every day, but she always put me off. She assured me that there was no rush and that we had permission to stay in Auntie's house indefinitely.
"What about Budding?" I asked as hints of green started to emerge from the ground. "She said she'd come to teach me."
Mother finished hanging the washed clothes to dry, looking as though she was thinking hard. "The trees are still waking up, Tiff," she finally answered. "I think there's plenty of time."
I continued to assume that we planned to return to the forest well after spring was confirmed. Mother began to be terse every time I mentioned the subject.
"We should be thinking of how to convince the teacher in the village to allow you to attend school," she insisted. "That's the education that you really need."
The discussion came to an end one day when Mother announced that she'd been given a job in the village.
"I was given permission to be a gleaner," she said, looking oddly excited.
I cocked an eyebrow. "A gleaner? Isn't that what the beggars do?"
She cleared her throat. "I wasn't allowed to do it before, T'phani, but it seems that Master Heele has persuaded the Field Chief to give me a chance."
I tried to look as happy as she did, but I wasn't sure if I was successful. "Will I be going with you?"
I silently prayed that the answer was no. The thought of combing through the fields to make sure that no weeds were growing and that no crops were left behind after harvest did not excite me.
"No," Mother admitted, "you are still not allowed in the village."
"Good," I muttered, turning my attention back to the loom.
"I was able to borrow some books, though," she went on, sounding overly enthusiastic. "I can write down a schedule for you and you can follow along with how the other children are being taught in school."
I made a face. "No, thank you."
"Theophana," Mother snapped, bringing my head up in surprise, "you have to be educated! You cannot spend your life being lazy and ignorant."
"I'm not lazy," I argued, feeling more than a little hurt.
She pointed at me with the wooden spoon she was holding. "If you want to find your place in the village, you have to prove your worth. Show them that you belong by knowing everything that they know and doing everything that they do."
My frown deepened.
What if I didn't want to belong? It was clear that they didn't want me, and I wasn't fond of them either. Why would I want to belong among people who had shown nothing but hatred for me?
Mother seemed to know what I was thinking. "That isn't just for this village, Tiff. Anywhere you go in the world you have to know how to fit in."
I made an exasperated noise, but I didn't argue anymore. I knew it wouldn't do any good. Mother continued with her instructions as if there had been no interruption.
"Planting is already well underway, so I'll need to go first thing in the morning. You are to stay here and attend to your studies, do you understand?"
I grumbled a non-committal response.
"I mean it, Theophana," she emphasized, giving me a fierce look.
"I know, I know," I spat.
I didn't point out to her that there was nowhere for me to go since I was banned from the village and the forest would take almost an hour to walk to.
Mother left before the sun rose the next day and she returned after the sun had set. She was covered in dirt and sweat, and also sunburned. I immediately grabbed some straw from the kitchen to make her a hat. I braided it while watching her wash up.
"It looks like you did more than pulling weeds," I commented.
She nodded. "There were other tasks that I was able to help with."
My eyes narrowed. "Did they pay you extra for that work?"
Mother pointed to her satchel. "I was given some food supplies."
"That's what they give the beggars for gleaning," I said, annoyed. "Did they pay you anything else?"
She took a deep drink of water before answering. "We should be grateful that I'm allowed to do even this much. A few years ago I would've been thrown out for even asking for such work."
I shook my head, but I knew complaining wouldn't change anything. The people in the village didn't care if we starved. They didn't care if we were cold or clothed or sick. If Mother didn't do the work, someone else would. But this way we had some extra food, should we need it.
The first few nights Mother would ask me about my studies when she returned. I faithfully recited numbers and poems and historical facts—things that I was certain only the wealthiest families in the village were teaching their children. I already knew how to read and write and to do sums. For most of the villagers, that was enough. If I were the daughter of a farmer, the rest of my training would be in skills that would be used in my daily life as someone's wife.
After a while, though, Mother stopped asking me about what I'd been learning. She was too tired, and I was too indifferent to pursue the matter.
***
One morning a shadow fell over me as I sat by Auntie's memorial stone with my books. I glanced up in surprise, wondering who would want to approach someone like me.
I was shocked to see the rugged features of Mineral, the hoak. He stood atop the stone, staring down at me with his fists on his hips.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded.
It took me a moment to find my voice. "What are you doing here?" I asked right back.
His rock-like skin crinkled in an expression of disgust. "I'm finding the young tiernan who didn't keep her promise."
I shot to my feet. "Is Budding here?"
"She's at the place where you said you'd be," he scolded. "Yet, you are here. And I had to waste my time looking for you."
I didn't ask any more questions. I left my books in a jumble (which would've horrified my mother) and bolted in the direction of the forested hills.
My tiernan endurance made it simple for me to run the entire way, even up the slopes. As a result, I reached my dear little hut in about thirty minutes. I didn't look to see how Mineral kept up with me, but he was already perched on the roof when I arrived.
The hut looked sad and abandoned, but Budding's strong silhouette in the doorframe filled me with joy. My heart leaped to my hair and I couldn't stop grinning.
"Hello," I exclaimed, running to hug her.
She laughed at my greeting, embracing me in return. "Hello, young one. I see you passed the winter well."
I looked up into her warm brown eyes, sharing in the enthusiasm that sparkled there. "I'm so glad you came! Mother kept saying that you wouldn't."
She tilted her head to the side. "Why wouldn't I?" she asked. "I said that I would."
I gave a half-shrug. "I don't know. Mother just said so."
Budding smiled. "You are the daughter of a wanderer. It is my duty to teach you if I am able."
She led me away from the hut and into the woods. I frowned thoughtfully as we walked. "What do you mean?"
"The wanderers are the saviors of our kind," Budding explained. Her words filled my mind with the image of great beings spreading life along the earth, despite hardships or obstacles. "Tiernan would die if our trees and rivers and rocks were to disappear. Most of us have to stay close to where we were born, so we can only nurture the world near us. However, wanderers can give life to the far reaches of nature and encourage it to continue to grow. They build our homes for us to enjoy and slow the forces that try to destroy them." She gestured with her hand. "Since wanderers sacrifice for the benefit of our kind, they are unable to raise and teach the younger generation. It is up to the rest of like tiernan to fill in that space."
I experienced a rush of pride knowing that my father was part of such vital work. It almost made it worth it to have never met him.
Almost.
"I wonder if I could be a wanderer, too," I mused.
Budding reached over to take my hand. "That would be a beautiful gift to give."
My eyebrows shot upward. "It's possible?"
"Of course," she answered. "It might be harder work for you, due to your human blood, but you would also be able to travel farther than others."
"How do I do it?" I asked, eager to begin.
Budding laughed. "Slowly. Nothing in nature is rushed. Even lighting has to prepare before it is unleashed."
I nodded, but my impatience galloped through me in maddening circles. "Can I start learning right away?"
"Listen here, you muddy child," Mineral interjected. "You won't learn everything in a day, so just calm down."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'm not muddy and I have a name!"
Belatedly, I realized that I did have mud on my clothes. But it wasn't as if I'd been playing in it. There were just a few spatters on my rainbow skirt.
"Your brain is too muddy for you to have a proper name," he scoffed.
"My name is Tiff," I said, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.
Mineral sniffed. "I'm not calling you that, you puddle."
I was starting to wonder what he had against puddles and mud. Why did he use them as insults? Actually, I loved puddles—the bigger, the better.
"Then I'm not calling you by your name," I retorted.
"Good," he spat. "I don't want you saying my name."
I cast about my thoughts, trying to think of the best way to bother him. "I'm going to call you Min! You only get half of your name."
It worked.
"Now, see here!" Mineral grabbed a pinecone from the branch where he stood and threw it in my direction.
I dodged, laughing. "Min, Min, Min, Min!"
"That's not my name," he hollered.
Budding held up her hands. "That's enough, now. How am I to teach Tiff if you are fighting with her?" She turned to me. "And how can you focus on learning if you are picking on Mineral?"
Mineral and I continued to glare at each other, but we quieted down. The twinkle in Budding's eye told me that she wasn't truly upset, so I didn't feel bad for teasing her hoak. Besides, he'd started it.
"Mineral, go find us some focal points," she instructed. "Tiff, come sit by me."
We both did as we were asked, even though there was some grumbling. I moved to sit on the mossy forest floor next to Budding, brushing the mud from my skirt for emphasis.
Min disappeared from view, obeying his mistress's command. I tucked my feet under my legs, leaning my chin on my hands.
"What's a focal point?" I asked.
"It's a place where the magic of nature is particularly strong," she answered. "They can be found almost everywhere, except where human populations are too large."
"Why do we need them?"
Budding looked at me fondly. "It will help you with your learning."
My face split into a wide grin. "What am I learning first?"
She leaned her back against a tree. Her beautiful brown skin blended perfectly with the bark, making her look as though she was a part of it. "The first thing that any creature must learn is how to recognize magic. If you can sense it, you can make use of it."
I sat up straight, squaring my shoulders. "I will learn."
She chuckled. "Good."
"But," I hesitated, "how do I find it?"
Budding gestured to the forest around us. "Magic is everywhere, just like the air. It may not be as abundant in some places, but it's always present."
I felt a wave of relief coat my worries. I'd wondered if I would be scouring the hills to try and find some elusive force. I pictured myself peering under rocks and climbing trees to discover magic, and I giggled at the thought.
"The first thing we are going to do is meditate," Budding continued. "You need to quiet your mind and connect with the world around you."
My brow furrowed. It sounded like something Mother would say when she was tired of me asking questions. "Meditate?"
Budding nodded. "Get into a comfortable position. Your body shouldn't feel like a burden to you."
I paused for a moment before shrugging. I flopped flat on the ground, spreading my arms and legs into a star shape. My teacher smiled but didn't correct me.
"Perfect," she encouraged. "Now close your eyes and breathe deeply. Pay attention to what you can sense around you."
I did as I was told.
I immediately relaxed, taking in the scents of rich dirt and growing plants. Small circles of sunlight rested on my skin, adding warmth to contrast with the cool ground. The moss was still a little scratchy from its winter sleep, but the new growth was soft. The irregular lumps in the ground pressed on my back, but I didn't mind.
It was revitalizing to be back in my forest. I felt like I had been holding my breath while living so close to the village, but I was finally free once more.
A sleepy sensation drifted across my mind. I dozed for a while, but Budding didn't reprimand me. Mother was always lecturing me about giving things my full attention, but Budding seemed content to let me wander toward the goal.
During one of the times when my mind flowed towards wakefulness, I experienced a sudden warming in my chest. I felt a spike of emotion that somehow combined excitement and peace and love and longing.
I bolted upright. "I felt something," I blurted.
Budding opened her eyes. "I thought you might. That was like a little breeze that passed by."
"A breeze of magic?" I laughed.
She grinned. "Yes."
Mineral suddenly appeared next to us, causing me to feel a very different spike in emotion.
"I found the focal points," he reported. "The closest one is to the south."
Budding got to her feet, brushing off her clothes. "Let's go, then."
I hurried to follow her, holding up my skirt to keep it from catching on the bramble. "What does the focal point look like?"
She shook her head. "It can't be seen with eyes alone. Well," she corrected herself, "not by human or tiernan eyes, anyway. It can only be felt."
"How do you know it's there?" I urged.
Budding pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It's not unusual to see a few bees flying around the forest, right?"
"Right," I agreed.
"And it's not unusual to see several bees gathered around a flowering plant, right?"
"Of course," I replied.
"What if you see lots of bees, though?" she asked. "What if you can hear the buzzing of hundreds or thousands of bees?"
I shrugged at such an easy question. "Then you are close to their hive."
Budding patted my shoulder. "Exactly. You can feel magic just about anywhere, but you will notice when it is concentrated."
I frowned. "Then how come I've never noticed before?"
"Because you didn't know what to look for," she answered.
I was about to ask some follow-up questions, but my words died in my throat. I came to a sudden stop, pressing my hands against my sternum.
To use Budding's metaphor, I could hear the buzzing of bees. If I hadn't been paying particular attention, I could've dismissed it as an unexpected burst of joy or enthusiasm. I was immediately certain that I'd passed through focal points before and just assumed that I was suddenly excited.
Budding looked at me, her eyes full of understanding. She gently put her arm around my shoulders. "If you recognize the sound of a bee, then you can hear it even if there's only one. Likewise, if you recognize the presence of magic, you can sense it even if it's faint."
"It's not faint here," I said, feeling rather choked by emotion.
We walked forward, deeper into the focal point. Even Mineral's crystal eyes softened as we were engulfed by the magic of the place.
"Why does it make me feel happy?" I asked.
Budding and Min sat down, leaning against one another. My teacher waved her hand at me, indicating I should relax as well.
"The magic of nature feeds our soul," she explained. "We feel happy because a need is being met. This is how tiernan are nourished, rather than the food humans consume."
I curled my legs up in front of me and wrapped my arms around my knees. "So, if I stayed here I would never have to eat?"
Budding chuckled. "No, you still have to feed the part of you that is human. You would starve if you didn't. However, it is equally important for you to feed your tiernan side, otherwise, it will starve."
I silently wondered if that was why I'd felt so anxious to return to the forest after the long winter away. I was sure that Auntie's house had its own measure of magic, but it couldn't be anything compared to what I had felt that day.
I closed my eyes dreamily. "I want to stay here forever."
I could hear the smile in Budding's voice when she replied. "Me, too."
Even though I knew that I would eventually have to leave the focal point, I didn't feel sad about it. I had been taught how to recognize magic in the world around me, and I knew that would be a skill I used often. I could look out for (figurative) bees no matter where I went, and that was a comforting thought.
With a single lesson, Budding had given me more knowledge than the culmination of all of my Mother's arduous teaching. I suddenly felt sorry for her. Her efforts had been like trying to fill a cracked water barrel.
I couldn't feel bad for long, though. I was giddy with the thought of what else I might learn from my tiernan sister. I knew that I would grow faster that spring than I ever had before, and I couldn't wait to begin.