Tree Singer

the stars.”
“That’s right,” she said, and wondered if Wollemi would really be able to feel her through the stars. Did he talk and listen to stars the way she talked and listened to trees?
Her stomach knotted as they approached the community square. It was not as congested as it had been for the Leveling Ceremony, and there were no tables lined with food, no celebratory atmosphere. But there were still a lot of friends and family gathered to sing the questers off.
More people than had come out for any other questing team, of that Mayten felt certain. Was it because three young ones were going or because help had been requested by the king himself?
Cather and Tray stood off to one side, surrounded by their families and friends. Adven looked up as Mayten and her family approached. He eyed her without smiling, then looked away as if to dismiss her.
As far as she knew, a tree singer had never been on a quest. Was he mad he had to take her along? Or did he have something against her, personally?
Dread filled Mayten’s heart as Solis climbed the stairs to the stage, and, suddenly, she felt like she carried the weight of the entire clan in her pack.
Solis raised her hands, quieting the crowd. She wore normal brown pants and a sleeveless shirt instead of her ceremonial gown, yet her bare arms seemed to carry as much authority as the gown. “Questers, say goodbye to your families.”
Mayten’s blood turned to ice. Things were happening too fast. She had been hoping that the king would send a messenger and say the team was no longer needed, that the blight had been healed.
But no messenger arrived.
Large hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a powerful hug. She breathed Da’s scent of pipe tobacco and fresh soil and her eyes burned.
He pulled back and looked at her with shining eyes. “You are in my heart, Mayten.”
“You are in my heart, Da,” she said, her voice tight.
Oleaster hugged her next, but when he said, “You are in my heart, Mayten,” his voice broke a bit and her heart squeezed in pain.
She could only nod, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Taiwania came up, looking almost shy. So different from her normal, arrogant approach.
“Next moon, at the gathering, I’ll dedicate a song to you,” she promised as she hugged Mayten quickly. “You’re in my heart.”
She moved away and Mayten realized her sister didn’t see her coming home by the next moon gathering. A shiver ran down her arms.
The twins stepped up together.
“When you return, you might have new babies to hold,” Acerola said.
“We’ll stay until you return,” Zigba added.
Mayten hugged her sisters gratefully. Her sisters’ husbands stepped in a bit awkwardly. Each gave her a quick hug and moved away.
Then came the little ones, Aster and Maple, too young to understand what was happening. Would they even know her when she returned?
If I return.
She shoved the thought away and bent to little Wollemi.
“You are in my heart, Mayten,” he said, trying to be brave. But his trembling lips betrayed him.
“You will always be in my heart,” she replied. “And I’ll meet you at the stars every night.” She hugged him hard against her, breathing in his little boy smell of milk and unwashed ears.
Then her mother stood before her. She looked exhausted, her expression hard.
“You are in my heart, Mayten,” she said, giving her daughter a stiff hug. She leaned close and spoke words only Mayten could hear. “I know you are mad at me and I don’t blame you. But hear this, I would not have recommended you for this journey if I did not have complete confidence in you.”
She pulled back, tucking a small book into Mayten’s hands. Mayten recognized it at once. It was the brown, leather-bound book her mother used during training, a book traditionally passed down from one tree singer to the next.
At the end of their training.
It should have been two years before Mayten’s training was complete. She gripped the book hard. “You’re wrong, Mother. I’m not ready. How can I help them when I don’t even know how to feel with the trees? I need more time.”
“The trees will teach you, Mayten. Listen to the trees. You’ve always had the talent. I know you can do this.”
Mayten looked at her dust-coated boots as her mother continued. “I’ve decided to send Anatolian with you.”
Joy surged through her as she glanced up, searching her mother’s eyes. “Truth? You’ll let him come with me?”
Anatolian’s cold nose tickled her palm.
Her mother nodded. “He will protect you and remind you that you are not alone. Your family’s heart goes with you and we will be here when you return.”
Mayten studied her mother’s lined face. Mother believed they would come back, that she would come back. She felt her anger ease just a little. Anatolian was an important part of their family’s safety; he had run mountain lions and bears off the homestead more than once.
It was a sacrifice to send the dog . . . and to entrust her with the book. “Thank you, Mother.”
Solis’s voice rose again. “It is time,” she said. And began to sing.
“As you journey, we go with you . . .”
The rest of the clan joined in. “You don’t venture out alone.”
Adven beckoned. Mayten lifted her hand in a brief wave to her family, then touched Anatolian’s head. The big dog followed her to where Adven stood apart from the crowd, waiting.
Cather stumbled up and grabbed Mayten’s hand. Her usually cheerful face was blotchy and red. Mayten glanced at Cather’s parents. They wept without shame. She was their last child.
And she was leaving them.
Adven turned without a word and headed away from the village, his friend Hunter striding quietly by his side. Mayten had not been formally introduced to the man. She only knew he was to be their woodsman.
She had seen him around, of course. Their clan rarely entertained strangers. But he was older and Mayten had never spoken to him. She