Tree Singer

you get away?”
Mayten winced. Her friend was naive to believe the ridiculous story. “No one would survive a bear like that, Cather. Besides, there aren’t great bears in these woods, only the smaller black ones that scare away with loud noises.”
“Oh, lassie,” the woodsman cooed, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
He rose to one knee and turned his left side to the fire, lifting his shirt. Light from the flames shifted, causing the four white lines running up his side to dance like waves on sand.
Mayten’s heart stopped. She’d seen scars like that on trees, but never with the spaces between the claws so far apart. That must have been a huge bear!
Anatolian raised his head, looking at her with concern.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It’s just a story.”
Still, she couldn’t resist peering at the dark trees surrounding their camp. Had something moved just beyond Adven’s head?
Hunter let his shirt drop. “I’m alive today only because of this man here.”
He slapped Adven on the shoulder. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d be dead or so hurt he’d have to do his duty by me. He and several other men came looking for me and lured the bear away.”
“Fifteen arrows and we only managed to make him madder,” Adven said. “If a boar hadn’t come out of the brush and gored the injured bear, we’d have all been dead.”
“What happened to the boar?” asked Tray, his words trailing off in a squeak. He scowled. She knew he was not happy at the way his voice had decided to change just when he was off on his first adventure.
“Don’t know,” said Adven. “We didn’t stay to find out. I imagine he died rather quickly. I bet that bear is still looking for us, though.” He grinned in a way that sent shivers down Mayten’s back.
Hunter laughed and nodded as he sat back down by the fire. “No doubt he is.”
“Uncle,” Tray glanced eagerly at Adven. “Will you tell us how you lost your eye?”
Mayten glanced at the hat that dipped low over one of Adven’s eyes. So that was why he wore it that way—and why he never took it off.
“Sure,” said the quester. “Which version of the story do you want?”
“Well, I was hoping to hear the real one this time.”
“Did you hear that, Hunter? He wants to hear the real story.”
Hunter threw back his head and laughed. “Better men than you have tried to get that story from him, Tray. I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Adven seemed to have had enough of their story time. He stood, brushing off his trousers. “To bed with you, children. We leave at dawn.”
Mayten pulled her blanket up around her shoulders. Children indeed! That man certainly knew how to ruin a good evening.
And what if the bear story was true? How would they—how would she—survive this trip if they encountered a bear like that?
Cather scooted toward Mayten as if wanting close company. Mayten scowled and stood, clutching her blanket tight around her shoulders. She moved over to the closest tree, calling Anatolian to come.
A troubled look flashed across Tray’s face but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be as warm away from the fire, but with the tree at her back and Anatolian by her side, she wouldn’t be lonely.

Chapter Ten
Clanging pots jarred Mayten out of a deep sleep. She groaned, blinking bleary eyes at the trees towering over her. It took a moment to remember she was on a quest and hadn’t just fallen asleep among her trees. Dawn’s graying skies looked almost crystalline with stars glittering here and there before fading into the growing light.
She wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench of coffee. Hunter grabbed the cook pot from the fire and poured the thick black stuff into a cup, then set the pot back on the fire. He didn’t offer the younger members of their team any of the dark brew. Mayten wouldn’t have accepted the awful stuff if he had. The beans had to be imported all the way from Alara, and her family drank it only at holiday time. She’d never liked the bitter taste, preferring the milder teas that arrived on ships from Caspia.
They cleaned camp, re-rolled their sleeping blankets, and ate leftover turkey Hunter had kept banked by the fire. He gave what was left of the turkey to Anatolian, who gulped it down and sniffed for more.
The dog was good at chasing and catching small chipmunks and other rodents for his meals, but Mayten was grateful that Hunter had thought to let him finish off the leftovers.
Sleeping next to the tree had lessened some of Mayten’s hurt. Trees had always soothed her when emotions flared. Sleeping on hard ground, however, left her bruised and sore and scowling. Small wonder the rest of the team kept their distance.
Adven’s mood didn’t seem any better. He kept his hat pulled low over his eyes and barked directions at them until even Hunter seemed a bit disgruntled. Finally, Tray kicked out the fire and they were off.
The morning’s walk was a repeat of the day before, Adven and Hunter in the lead, followed by Tray who seemed fascinated by every word and gesture the pair made. Cather stayed close to Tray, but Mayten held back, not wanting to talk to any of them.
She should be working with her mother, learning how to listen. Training to be a proper tree singer.
An array of fascinating fungi caught her attention as they went through a particularly misty section of forest, the air so damp it seemed as though the trees themselves were watering the ground. Mushrooms of every possible size, shape, and color erupted at the base of each tree.
Anatolian and Tray seemed the only ones enjoying the walk. The sound of the dog crashing through brush and splashing through nearby streams kept time with the clomp, clomp, clomping of their boots.
Morning wore on, warm sun eventually breaking through the canopy, drying moisture from both air and soil.