I was exhausted by the time we got home that night. The work had been hard, but that wasn't what had drained my energy. It was the mental and emotional toll of the day that had left me feeling shriveled and discarded.
Mother set down her bag, which now contained our payment for the day. It consisted of mostly food goods, but also a few coins. She put the coins into a little box, where all of our savings went. She'd often told me that it was important to save money for the times when food couldn't be found. By now we had enough to get us through an entire winter, if necessary.
"You did well today, Tiff," Mother said to me. "Other than the mishap with Smitta Farlin, that is."
I snorted. "Mishap? Is that what they call that in the village?"
She paused in putting away the food from the bag. "You need to be more careful of your words, T'phani. You could've gotten into serious trouble."
I knew she was right, but I hated it. "I didn't say anything wrong," I insisted.
Mother didn't argue that point, even though she didn't seem to agree. "Change happens slowly. We need to be patient and considerate while the people of the village get used to the idea of you."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm turning thirteen this winter. If they aren't used to me by now, they never will be."
"Knowing that you exist is different from associating with you," she pointed out. "They haven't had a chance to get to know you."
"They were too busy throwing rocks and calling me names," I muttered.
"Only the children did that," Mother replied, not looking me in the eye.
What she said was true, but she didn't mention the fact that the adults had been much worse. When the village children were mean to me, I only had to worry about bruises. When the adults got involved, I feared for my life.
"I hate this place," I told her bluntly. "I'm going to leave as soon as I'm grown."
Mother's eyes widened. She looked as if I'd hurt her. "How could you say that? This is your home."
I shook my head adamantly. "No, it's not. The hut in the forest is my home, and you won't even let me go there anymore."
She sighed. "Enough of that, now. It's only your first day with me. It will get easier once you learn to settle into your role."
"As the village slave?" I quipped.
Mother gave me a stern look. "Don't be dramatic, Tiff."
I raised my hands. "I worked all day, but I didn't get paid. All I got was several rude remarks from the villagers and a lecture from that Smitta about my evil nature."
She tried to console me. "He didn't mean it like that. I think you're misunderstanding."
I stared at her incredulously. "What is there to misunderstand? He said it very clearly."
"I know that his words are harsh, but he isn't used to our way of speaking," she explained. "He grew up in a different environment. Once you get to know him, you'll see that he means well."
My brow furrowed. "Mother," I said slowly, "do you agree with what he said?"
"That's not what I mean," she amended. "Now, please wash up for bed."
I folded my arms across my chest. "He said that you were tricked by an evil demon," I went on, "and that I shouldn't have been born."
"That isn't what he said," she corrected, nudging me toward that wash basin.
"Yes, it is," I insisted.
"Not exactly."
My voice became angrier. "It's what he meant!"
Mother took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "All he said was that your kind faces more challenges than the rest of us. Are you saying that isn't true?"
"All of our hardships weren't because of my evil nature," I shouted. "It was because of the hatred of the village!"
"Stop it, Theophana!" Mother snapped. "You insist on blaming everyone else."
My eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, is it my fault, then?"
"No, it's mine!"
Silence draped the room with a heavy pause. We stared at each other, both speechless. Mother's eyes were brimming with tears and her jaw was clenched. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard her say.
"How is it your fault?" I whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong. All you did was fall in love."
She shook her head. "It wasn't love. It was rebellion."
I would've preferred if she'd slapped me again. Her words reached deep into my heart and cut up the beautiful stories I'd grown up hearing. I'd lived imagining my mother as a tragic heroine, separated from her true love but destined to be reunited. Now she painted a very different picture.
"You…"
I couldn't think of what to say. I searched my memory, wondering if she'd always blamed herself for what we had gone through.
A sudden, terrible thought came to my young mind.
Was that the real reason why she'd never wanted to leave the village? Did she think she had to stay and atone for her mistakes? All of the years of abuse and neglect—was it my mother's way of showing her family and neighbors that she was sorry for what she'd done?
Mother wiped the tears from her face and walked to the bedroom. "Go to sleep now," she called over her shoulder.
I couldn't think of rest, though. I couldn't think of anything. I slowly sat down on Auntie's favorite chair, wishing she was still alive. I had vague memories of her comforting my mother, patting her hair, and rubbing her back. I was willing to bet that Mother could use that these days.
Instead, she only had me. Me, the literal manifestation of her mistakes.
Auntie would've known what to say. But what could I say? I'm sorry I was born, Mother. I'll try to do better next time.
I barked a laugh, even though it wasn't the least bit funny.
What was I supposed to do? I thought myself wise (for a twelve-year-old), but I didn't have any advice to give myself. I didn't have anyone that I could talk to, either.
Except…
My eyes turned to the direction of the small mountain.
Budding was still there. Maybe she would have some insight that she could share with me. Even if she didn't have any answers for me, she would make me feel less alone.
I put out all the lights, then I sat on a chair to wait.
I knew it would take a while for Mother to fall asleep, but I also knew that she wouldn't wait for me to join her. She would pretend to sleep to avoid further conversation (it was something we both did from time to time), and eventually, it would be true.
I counted the minutes, wishing for them to go faster. When I finally judged it to be safe, I put on my shoes and slipped out the door.
Traveling at night was not something I'd ever done before. There had been times when Mother and I would sleep under the stars, but we always made camp before the sun was gone. I hadn't brought any sort of light with me, so I had to move slowly to stay safe. Every bump and divot in my path looked exaggerated or invisible, with nothing in between.
I arrived at the hut without injury, but my courage was somewhat shaken. I peered into the shadows of the shelter, wondering if they were even there.
"Budding?" I called softly. "Are you awake?"
Her silhouette materialized at the doorway. She stepped out into the moonlight, reaching to embrace me. "I'm glad you came, Tiff. I was worried about you."
I hugged her tightly, suddenly bursting into tears. "It's been a terrible day!"
I thought about all of the things that had happened to me, and I knew that Budding was seeing them, too—just as she'd been able to see my thoughts when I'd described the origins of my name. I was especially grateful for the additional communication between us. I didn't trust my voice to convey the words.
"That evil man," Min's voice spat from the tree branches above. "How could he say such lies?"
Budding smoothed my hair, which was escaping its braid. "What he said isn't true," she reassured me. "No one is born evil and your mixed blood isn't some sort of curse."
I wiped my nose on the back of my arm. "I think my mother believes him, though," I sobbed.
My tiernan friend took a deep breath. "I think it's easier to be told what to believe than to find answers for yourself. Your mother… Well, she's trying her best under the circumstances."
"She said I can't come here for lessons anymore," I told Budding. "How could she do that to me?"
Her expression flickered and I could see that she was concerned. "It's important for you to respect your mother's wishes, even if we don't agree with them. It won't be too late for you to learn if you wait for her to come around."
"Can't you try to convince her?" I begged.
Budding pressed her lips together. "She's not likely to listen to me on this matter."
I felt my heart sinking into my stomach. "I don't want to wait," I mourned. "And I don't want to go to Smitta Farlin's lessons."
"I know, I know," she murmured.
"What will you do?" I asked, looking up at her beautiful brown face.
The corners of her mouth curved into a smile. "I'll go back to my mountain for now. I can return next spring to see if she's more willing to let me teach you."
I plopped on the ground. "Next spring? That's forever away!"
Budding grinned, folding her legs to sit next to me. "If you think that, you have a long life ahead of you, little one."
"What if I run away?" I blurted out. "I could come with you to the big mountain and stay there until I've learned everything."
Budding and Min exchanged glances. "Mineral mentioned your suggestion," she acknowledged. "However, I agree with him. It's not a good idea."
"Why?" I pouted.
She reached out a finger and pushed my lip back in. "For many reasons, silly girl, not the least of which is the amount of heartbreak your mother would suffer."
"She doesn't care," I growled. "Her life would be so much easier if I wasn't around."
"Don't say that," Budding scolded. "She loves you dearly."
"That doesn't make me wrong," I shot back. "Her life would be perfect if I hadn't been born. She didn't even love my father!"
That gave Budding pause. Her eyes became troubled and her mouth stiffened. "She was probably not being honest about that…"
Min made a swift motion with his hand. "Even if she was, it doesn't matter. She may regret the choices she made back then, but there's no way that she regrets having you in her life. She's not heartless!"
I knew I couldn't argue with that. There was no denying that our lives had been difficult—even desperate, at times. Regardless, we also experienced many beautiful days. I'd seen the sacrifice and dedication Mother had put into raising me, always keeping me safe. I knew that my mother loved me, and I knew that she would be devastated if I left.
I just wished that I could ignore it long enough to get what I wanted.
I laid down and put my head on Budding's lap. She stroked my hair, humming a tune that wandered without purpose. Min hopped down from the tree branches, sitting so close that our arms touched.
I was still discouraged, but I no longer felt alone. I drank in the warmth of my friends, feeling vitality slowly return to my spirit. It buoyed me up enough to face what was held in the coming days.
The future before me looked gray. I couldn't imagine a scenario where my mother would suddenly change her mind about letting me learn magic. Perhaps she would never agree. It seemed likely that I'd just have to wait until I was old enough to make decisions despite her protests.
What a long, dreary road that would be.
Still, it was comforting to feel companionship in that moment. I was with the two people who truly understood my ambition and my disappointment. Even Tsuki, with his encouragement, couldn't understand the depth of desire in me. How could he, when he already was where he belonged?
"When will you leave?" I asked in a small voice.
Budding shifted slightly, but kept her tone light. "We'll stay for a few more days, just to keep an eye on you. If you run into trouble you can come to us for help."
"We won't say goodbye before we leave, though," Min insisted. "Anything you want to say will have to be done here."
I was about to reprimand him for being so insensitive, but then I spotted the glint of a tear in his eye. The harsh words died in my mouth and I smiled instead. "Do you have a hard time saying goodbye?"
He scowled fiercely. "Only to people I like, which doesn't include you."
I sat up, rubbing my chin in an exaggerated motion. "I don't know about that. You seem sad to be away from me."
"Not even slightly," he scoffed.
My eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" I teased. "I think I saw some tears."
"Psh," Min spat. "You've got mud in your eyes."
"You've got mud in your brain," I shot back with a grin.
Min jumped to his feet. "At least I have a brain!"
Budding and I started laughing, which eventually brought Min around as well. We sat together in comfortable silence, watching the stars through the trees above. I saw one streak across the sky and I pointed at it with a gasp.
"Make a wish!"
Budding obligingly clasped her hands together, but Min folded his arms with a sneer. "What a foolish notion," he sneered.
I ignored him, pressing my hands together and closing my eyes.
I wish Mother would let me learn magic. And I wish that Budding and Min will be safe while we're apart.
It seemed so simple at the time—such a small pair of wishes to be granted. I couldn't imagine that the heavens would be so ungenerous as to refuse. I was filled with a flood of certainty, bringing a smile to my face. I suddenly felt that everything would work out exactly as I wanted. How could it not?
I embraced both of my friends tightly before making the slow trek home. We didn't say goodbye to each other. There was no question in my mind that I'd be seeing them again soon, so why give voice to such sad words?
Min also got his way and they didn't see me again before they left. The only sign of the change was a little bouquet that was left on our doorstep in the middle of the night.