Tree Singer

a wooden trough that lay in the creek above the homestead through bamboo pipes down to their home and through the walls into a large wooden barrel opposite the bathing room door. A similar barrel stood outside the kitchen wall.
A fireplace in one corner held a large kettle where they warmed the water, then added it to the spring water in the huge tub Oleaster had talked Da into special ordering from the traders.
“You really should forgive your mother, you know,” Da said. “She was just trying to do what is best for the clan and for her family.”
Mayten eyed him in the mirror and said nothing. She fingered the boot embroidered next to the tree on her apron.
It had been two days since the calling ceremony, days spent in frantic preparation as the clan leader urged them to hurry. Da had traded flowers for a backpack, her sisters gathered nuts and dried fruit for her supplies, and even Wollemi had given her his lucky rock to take on the journey, the rock with white lines running through it in the shape of a star.
When she was not packing, she visited with her twin sisters, catching up on the news from the Ocean Clan, laughing at their stories. Taiwania laughed with them, everyone trying hard to ignore the impending departure.
Everyone but her mother . . .
“There,” Da said, giving her hair a light pat.
Mayten gazed at her reflection. He had parted her hair down the middle from forehead to back and wrangled her twisty hair into two plaits that started in the front and curved around each side of her head, ending in two braids.
Her stomach trembled. She gave Da a shaky smile, feeling more like a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves than a quester.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, trying to sound convincing.
He nodded and bent to kiss the top of her head, quickly brushing away a tear. It was time. The sky grew lighter outside the window. They were gathering in the clan square at morning bells. The questing team would leave from there.
They’d been briefed yesterday. She, Tray, and Cather along with Adven and the woodsman had stood before the clan elders in the community lodge. The meeting room was small with the elders’ six chairs lining one side. Mayten stood next to Cather, trying to keep her knees from shaking.
Solis began. “You all know why we are here. Chief Singer, please brief this team.”
Her mother stood and Mayten looked down at her feet. She didn’t care if it made her mother look bad. She felt betrayed and wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. Why had she been kept in the dark about this?
Why was she the one who had to leave home?
“The trees are in distress,” her mother said, her voice quivering. “The cause is . . . unknown. None of our ancient stories tell of a situation such as the one we now face. This is why we need more information and we need it fast.”
Mayten’s head swam as though the world had tilted slightly.
Her beloved trees were hurting.
She grabbed Cather’s hand. They were being sent into unknown danger, with someone in charge that Mayten didn’t trust.
Worse, she was expected to do a job she wasn’t qualified for . . .
~ * ~
The rest of the day had passed too quickly. She’d barely slept.
And now it was time.
She slid from the stool, checking that her leather boots were tied tightly. Her new socks, knitted by Zigba, made the boots feel snug and would protect her feet from blisters. She wore her sturdiest climbing clothes and carried a change of clothing in her pack.
“Ready?” Da asked.
Mayten nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Da led her out to the porch where the rest of the family waited. The gray dawn seemed to match her dread.
Oleaster stepped up, carrying her pack. He held it out as she slid her arms into the straps, then fastened the waist strap, making sure it fit snugly around her hips. Zigba had knitted soft pads that covered the leather straps, keeping the pack from chafing her shoulders.
A bedroll had been tied to the pack’s bottom, a tight roll of wool that seemed thoroughly inadequate. The thought of leaving her soft bed and the grim faces of her family made her throat tighten, threatening to cut off her breathing altogether.
Her older brother tapped her under the chin with his index finger and she looked up. His smile gave her courage. Anatolian sniffed the pack as if it were a stranger. He rubbed his head against her hip. How could she leave her dog? How could she leave any of them?
The family turned together and began the slow walk down the hill toward town, Anatolian trotting alongside. Mayten felt a small hand press into hers and looked down into Wollemi’s little face. His freckles stood out against his pale skin like tea leaves floating in a cup. His small forehead wrinkled up at her, concern etching his face.
“Are you scared?” he whispered.
Had it been only three days since her father had asked her the same question about the Leveling Ceremony?
The apprehension she’d felt then seemed like a flea compared to the mountain lion now threatening to tear her apart with terror.
Her world had changed since the ceremony. Three days ago, she’d felt confident of her future, certain of spending the next two years as her mother’s initiate.
Now, she felt like a tree severed from its roots. Would parts of her be cut off and shipped to unknown places? Would she ever be whole again?
But she couldn’t say that to Wollemi.
“I am . . . a little scared. But if you think of me every time you look at the stars, and I think of you every night, we will still be connected. You will be with me on my journey, don’t you see? Nothing can really separate us.”
His face relaxed and he skipped a little skip as he walked. “That’s a good idea. And I’ll know if you’re safe because I’ll feel it from