The walk to the village seemed to last forever. Every step felt heavy as I struggled to keep pace with my mother.
"Keep up, T'phani," she scolded. "Why are you so slow?"
"I wonder," I muttered under my breath.
If Mother heard me, she chose to ignore it. She shifted the bag she was carrying to her other shoulder and smiled cheerfully. "What a beautiful day," she remarked. "We've had such nice weather this year."
I didn't answer. My thoughts turned to the hut, where Budding and Min would be waiting for me. What would they do when I never arrived? Would they be worried? Would Min come looking for me?
I sighed quietly, wishing that I had some way to communicate with them over the distance between us.
A sudden thought occurred to me. Hadn't I been learning that very thing? Maybe not sending messages, per se, but exchanging information with plant life. If I could gain knowledge from them, couldn't I give knowledge back?
I began the process of stilling my mind—which wasn't easy, given my current emotional state. It took numerous attempts for me to grasp hold of the threads of magic around me.
(To be fair, they were becoming scarcer as we approached the village.)
I wove a wide net of magic, spreading it over the grass and flowers in the direction of the small mountain. Pass on a message, I thought with all my might. Tell Budding I can't come to lessons today.
I had no idea if it would work. I knew that plants could communicate with each other to a certain degree, but this seemed a bit complicated for them. Still, it was better than nothing.
"Stop dawdling," Mother reprimanded again. "Being late won't change the amount of work that needs to be done."
"Yes, Mother," I answered meekly.
I felt a twinge of guilt for using magic against my mother's wishes. Even more so, because I was doing it right in front of her. She may not have known it, but I did.
"What are we doing first?" I asked.
"First we go to the fields, so we can avoid the heat of the day."
I frowned. "I didn't know you were still working in the fields."
"Only in the mornings," she replied. "And only on certain days."
My mood lightened slightly. Maybe I'd be able to see Hoshi while we were there. "What do you do there?"
"Gleaners just remove weeds during the growth season," she explained. "The more important jobs are for the regular workers."
I pursed my lips, kicking at a pebble on the path. "How often do you go?"
"Twice a week," she answered.
"Will we get a double portion of rations since I'll be helping?"
Mother hesitated. "I don't think we should ask. It's kind of them to give me work at all. I don't want it to seem like we're taking advantage of the field chief."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, yes. We don't want it to be unfair," I muttered. "Best for me to just work for free."
"What was that?" Mother asked calmly, but I could hear the warning in her tone.
I quickly shook my head. "Nothing."
She reached over and took my hand. "I know that you're unhappy with my decision, but someday you'll understand that it's for the best. I'm trying to keep you safe."
I gave an exaggerated nod. "I know, Mother."
She frowned at my response. "I know that Budding, herself, isn't dangerous. However, neglecting your connection with humankind in favor of tiernan teachings is dangerous. You may not see that right now, but you will when you grow older."
I let go of her hand. I wasn't in the mood to wonder if she was right. I was still angry and irritated and feeling wronged.
"I don't see how learning about tiernan could be a bad thing," I pointed out. "Didn't you say that they are 'good' beings?"
"They are," Mother acknowledged. "Even so, you'll be living your life among humans. It's more important for you to enrich those relationships first."
"How do you know I'll be living with humans?" I demanded in a flash of defiance.
"Of course, you will," she retorted. "You can't grow up to be a wild woman in the forest."
"I don't see why not," I insisted. "No one would care."
"I would."
"I'd still come visit you," I defended.
That didn't seem to make her feel any better. "Stop it, T'phani," she commanded. "No more of such talk."
I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the dirt path we were walking. I couldn't understand why she was being so unreasonable. What did it matter if I went to live in the woods? I had no other family but her. I had no intention of ever getting married or working a typical human job. I knew how to survive on my own. What, in the world, could induce me to live in the village?
I couldn't say any of that to my mother, though. She wouldn't understand. I vented my feelings by picking up a stick from the side of the path and using it to swipe at the ground.
The fields were located all along the northern border of the village. They were organized in terraces up the hills that separated our village from its closest neighbor. I'd once asked my mother why the farming was done on the hills rather than the flatter grassland. I recalled it had something to do with soil quality, but I didn't remember the details.
If one were to climb to the top of those hills, the other two main villages of the fief could be seen. This was why the local lord's manor was placed where it was. It enabled him to view all three villages from a distance.
My feet were feeling heavy as we drew closer to our destination. I spotted Tsuki's family home in the distance and wished that I was going there instead. In an effort to cheer myself up, I started singing a song that Tsuki had taught me.
Morning dew upon sweet grass
Bird call on the wind
Spider web glistens
The sun rises from afar
Gentle hands braid silky hair
Children's laughter sounds
Quiet steps are heard
A fire is built on the hearth
Fishermen return to shore
Their nets have been filled
Small faces are washed
Families come to join hands
"What are you singing?" Mother asked rather sharply.
I stopped, even though I was only halfway through the song. "Tsuki taught it to me," I replied, looking confused.
Her expression softened. "Oh. I've never heard it before."
"It's a song from Navon," I explained, "but he had to translate it for me."
"It's pretty," she murmured.
"Imi Hana loves to sing," I told her. "She has a beautiful voice. Tsuki says that she knows hundreds of songs."
My mother's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Tsuki's mother," I said with a hint of exasperation. "Her name is Hana. She said I could call her Imi because it means 'aunt.'"
Mother nodded, but her expression became troubled. "Tiff, I need to ask you something."
I reached down to grab a handful of grass, shredding the blades one by one. "Hmm?"
She hesitated before continuing. "What did you mean that Tsuki is getting lessons from a kag?"
I froze.
Mother also stopped walking so she could face me. I tried to keep my expression calm, but I didn't think that I was successful. My mind was racing to come up with some believable excuse.
"He's… interested in different magical beings," I hurried to tell her. "He spent time learning from Budding, too."
Mother studied me for several moments. It was hard for me to breathe under her intense gaze. She didn't say anything in response but slowly nodded.
I wasn't sure if she believed me.
We started walking again, but silence followed us. When we arrived at the fields I was glad for the distraction. I spotted Hoshi standing in line to receive her assignment, so I ran to hug her.
She was wearing rough work clothes and heavy boots. Her long black hair was braided, with a kerchief tied around it. It was a vastly different look from the embroidered dress that she wore at home.
Hoshi squealed with delight when she saw me. I could tell that she was smiling, even though the lower half of her face was covered by her wooden mask. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
I made a face. "My mother made me come to help her," I said quietly.
"Do you think she'd let you come work with me?" Hoshi wondered hopefully.
My nose scrunched. "I doubt it. I think she's mad at me."
"Tiff," Mother called from the back of the line. "Come here."
"See?" I sighed.
Hoshi gave a disappointed wave as I walked back to where my mother stood. "That's Tsuki's younger sister," I explained.
"I know," she replied, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Stay by me, please."
I blew out my breath in a dramatic fashion. "Do I have to stay by you all day?"
"Yes."
I groaned. "Why? Why can't I work next to Hoshi? I'd been doing the same work no matter where I was."
"No, you wouldn't," she quipped. "I am a gleaner, but she is a regular worker."
"What's the difference?" I pressed. "It's not like they'll be giving a ten-year-old any harder work than the gleaners."
Mother shot me a warning glance, telling me to stop arguing. I clenched my teeth together. It seemed to me that the day couldn't possibly get worse.
I was wrong.
The field chief was a large man whose features were weathered from a lifetime of labor. He came from a long line of farmers and had been working in the fields since he was old enough to understand instructions. His family name was Fields, but he didn't like being called Field Chief Fields. Everyone just called him 'Chief,' as that seemed to be easier. Everyone, that is, except for me and my mother.
"Good morning, sir," Mother greeted him when we reached the front of the line.
"You're late," he said brusquely. "Gleaners are expected to be the first to arrive. I'll have to dock your pay."
"Yes, sir," she agreed readily.
He glanced at me but averted his eyes as if I was indecent. "No extra pay for extra hands."
"I understand, sir," Mother nodded.
He waved us off. "Fields seven, eight, and nine today for all the gleaners. There's an infestation. Take care of it."
The field chief's assistant handed each of us an empty bucket and shooed us along. I followed my mother's sure step as we climbed the hill to the assigned terraces.
"Infestation?" I asked with a grimace.
"Most likely larvae of some kind," she told me.
In general, I liked all forms of life. I enjoyed interacting with a wide variety of animals, even if they weren't considered to be visually appealing. This included insects. I had no problem with insects, as they were a vital part of every natural ecosystem. However, that didn't mean that I wanted to touch them. There were some things that I felt better about with a respectful amount of distance.
I felt my stomach clench. "I have to pick them up?"
Mother rolled her eyes at me. "Yes, Tiff. Pick them up and put them in your bucket. They'll be taken to feed the chickens in the village."
I gave my mother the most pleading expression I could manage. "They're just so…squishy," I explained. "What if they burst in my hand?"
She did not pity me. "Then, be gentle."
"What does Hoshi get to do?" I demanded, scanning the distance for my friend.
Mother shook her head, lifting her skirt as she stepped over the ledge of the terrace. "I don't know. Probably checking leaves for eggs and spreading insect repellant. An infestation calls for everyone to act quickly."
I scrunched my nose. That didn't sound better. I decided it wasn't worth it to ask to go be with Hoshi, especially since the begging would annoy my mother.
One of the field supervisors waved us over. He pointed to the far end of the terrace. "Over there. Work your way back."
"Yes, sir."
I dragged my feet as we walked, earning me another harsh look from Mother. At this point, I didn't care. I could've been walking through the dappled sunshine of the mountain forest, listening to birdsong and talking with Budding about magic. All I'd had to do was pretend to sleep through my mother's departure or feign a slight illness.
But, no. I'd woken up early so we could have some time together. Now I was paying for it.
We reached the end of the row we were to work, which seemed to consist of cabbage plants. Sure enough, I could see the signs of the insects as well as the wriggling larvae themselves.
I shuddered.
"Mother," I began.
She immediately cut me off. "Get to work."
I heaved a sigh but stopped fighting. I resigned myself to what seemed to be a day of misery.
I knelt by the first plant in my row, carefully pinching each larva and dropping it into my bucket. With silent defiance, I gave the plant a quick check with my magic to see if there was anything I missed. When I was satisfied that the plant was clean, I moved on to the next one.
"Very thorough," came a gravelly voice from the empty air.
I jumped, looking around wildly. "Min?" I whispered.
"It's me," he acknowledged, even though I couldn't see him. "Right here."
I felt his sharp finger poke my arm, and I made a soft sound of pain. Mother looked over in concern. "Are you hurt?"
I quickly shook my head and then faced away from her. I didn't want to try to explain to her that I was talking to an invisible hoak, who had also taken part in my secret lessons with Budding. I just didn't imagine that would go over very well.
I made a face in Min's general direction, wishing that I could retaliate. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.
"Budding was worried," he answered. "She asked me to check on you."
"Did you get my message?" I asked excitedly.
"Message?"
My face fell. Apparently, my experiment had failed.
"Well, I'm here," I said miserably, "picking up cabbage worms with my mother."
"At least you aren't lying bloodied in the wake of an angry mob," Min pointed out heartlessly.
I found I couldn't argue with that. "I guess you're right."
When I considered it, we had been treated with an unusual amount of—not cordiality, but indifference. No one had cornered us or hit us. No one had thrown things or insulted us. Was it possible that my mother was right about things changing?
I instinctively shook my head. It was difficult to believe in such a sudden change of heart.
"Mother wants me to spend more time with the villagers to help me fit in," I said bitterly.
I could hear the disgust in Min's voice. "I'm sure her plan will work."
His sarcasm stung, but only because I also knew that it was futile to try and make a home among the people of this village.
"Is there any way to can help me get out of here?" I asked Min. "Make me invisible, or something."
"Nope," he said cheerfully. "You're stuck here with the maggots."
It was ambiguous if he meant the insects or the people.
I scowled at the cabbage plant I was cleaning. "You're useless."
I flicked one of the larvae and sent it flying through the air. It landed on Mother's hand, causing her to gasp.
"Stop that," she scolded.
"Sorry," I murmured.
I continued with my task for several minutes, waiting for my mother to stop paying attention to me. As soon as I thought it was safe, I whispered, "Min?"
"I'm still here," he reassured me.
"My mother found out about my lessons with Budding. I think she wants to stop me from going to them anymore. What should I do?"
There was a long pause and I heard him mutter, "That is a problem."
I dropped another larva into the bucket. "What if I ran away?"
The hoak guffawed. "Don't be ridiculous."
It offended me that he thought it was a bad idea. "What? I could get on just fine on my own! Then I could come back when my lessons are over."
"How long do you imagine that would take?" he inquired, his voice sounding amused.
"I don't know," I floundered. "Probably until the end of summer…?"
"You think you can learn everything there is about magic in a single summer?" he laughed.
"I could come back for the winter, anyway," I said defensively. "Don't tiernan sleep through the winter?"
"No," Min replied. "They just…slow down a bit."
I pressed my lips together. "That doesn't matter right now. I still think it's a good plan."
"It's a terrible plan," he retorted. "Unfortunately, I don't have any other suggestions right now. I'll go tell Budding what's happening and ask her what she wants to do."
"Fine," I muttered.
It was the most reasonable thing to do, but I was disappointed that it didn't save me from having to pick up hundreds of larvae.
"For now, just do what your mother tells you," Min admonished. "Be a good little girl."
I swatted blindly, hoping to get lucky and hit him (which I didn't).
I could hear him laughing from a distance before the silence of his absence settled around me. I felt lonely without him, even though I was near other people.
"Did you hear that?" Mother asked, frowning. "I could swear…"
I quickly shook my head. "I didn't hear anything."
I went back to picking up worms, cursing my bad luck, and praying for Budding to have a brilliant plan. Maybe I would be rescued before midday—plenty of time to still go to the forest for a lesson.
(I wasn't.)