Tree Singer

you coming down?” Wollemi jogged up to the tree and looked at her expectantly. “It’s eventide and Mother says to come in.”
Mayten studied her little brother. He was a sight, his brown homespun pants and shirt hanging off his small frame like the hand-me-downs they were. She could tell by his flushed skin—skin the color of weak tea—he’d been running. His little nose wrinkled, squishing his dark freckles into tiny specks as he gazed up at her.
Her mother had birthed two babies before Wollemi was born. Both had died during the fever winter. Mother had two more babies following Wollemi. Helping care for the babies wore Mayten out, but Wollemi made her efforts worthwhile.
“I’m coming.” She grinned down at her brother, warmth spreading from her heart, relaxing her muscles, sending her worry scampering off into the distance. She scrambled down the trunk of the tree without even looking for a foothold.
Eventide? How had that happened? The sun was slipping away and she hadn’t even noticed.
When she jumped to the ground, Wollemi grabbed her hand with his pudgy little one and they marched up the hill.
“Are you worried about the ceremony?” Her brother raised his eyebrows, brown eyes dark and serious.
“No, not for me,” she finally said. “But I am worried about Tray.”
Mayten swallowed the lump suddenly clogging her throat. If all went as planned, her best friends would level up tomorrow as well.
And everything would change.
She, Tray, and Cather had been best friends since birth. On the morrow, Cather would be called to be a healer like her parents but Tray wanted adventure. Tray’s dreams of being a traveler would be fulfilled, Mayten was certain of that. It was what he wanted, and she wanted it for him as did Cather.
“Because he’ll be called a traveler or a quester and leave you and Cather at home without him?” Wollemi asked.
Mayten marveled at Wollemi’s insight. How could her brother be so young and yet so keenly in touch with her worries?
Wollemi’s pink tongue pushed through the hole where his front tooth had been only two days earlier and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Maybe . . . maybe you’ll be a story singer like Taiwania or a quest taker!”
Mayten ruffled her little brother’s wild brown curls. He knew the story singers were valued in the community, almost as much as the questers, those brave men and women who explored beyond the clan.
“I’m a tree singer,” she said in a firm voice. She was a tree singer, like her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. A surge of pride washed over her. She hailed from a family of singers. Singers helped the plants grow, thrive, and take shape. Her da sang flowers and shrubs, and her older brother, Oleaster, sang the harvest.
“I’ve always wanted to be a tree singer, nothing else. As tree singer, I’ll get to stay here forever and that means I’ll never be taken from you.”
She stopped walking and pulled Wollemi in for a tight hug. She felt close to all of her siblings, except for Taiwania, but she felt extra protective of Wollemi.
Voices from somewhere ahead caught her attention. Mayten glanced at the house crouching among a sea of yellow daffodils overlooking the clan’s valley. Perched on a small hill, the house that had started as a one-room cottage had been added to as their family had grown, and grown, and grown. Great wings—designed by the clan’s wood crafters and lovingly built—fanned to either side of the original structure, stretching into the garden of stunning spring flowers.
Da had sung those flowers, making sure their home was constantly surrounded by blossoms that budded and bloomed at different times of the year. She drew in the sweet scent of honeysuckle, anticipating the time when tulips of every imaginable color, and some colors only her da could imagine, would carpet their hill.
A breeze lifted her hair, bringing with it the spicy tang of eucalyptus. She loved the forest of oak and eucalyptus bordering the house and garden on the left. Oleaster’s bountiful groves of fruit and nut trees stood in a line to the right of their home.
Beyond the house and garden, stretching to the base of the pine forest, grew the flowers and shrubs her da raised for trade along with the pine seedlings her mother planted to replace the forest cuttings.
Mayten loved her home. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She had no desire to be a quester. No desire to leave. Not ever.
Wollemi hugged her hard, then stepped away, taking her hand in his again. “Then tonight when I sing to my stars, I’ll sing for you to be a tree singer!”
“Thank you.” Mayten nodded at the house. “Looks like Mother tired of waiting.”
An enormous dog bounded down the hill toward them. His tan-and-white chest heaved as he ran, pink tongue flapping, and curly tail bouncing, barreling toward them like a wild boar on attack. The dog drew near, then suddenly circled behind them and barked at their heels.
“All right, Anatolian, we’re coming, we’re coming.” Mayten laughed as she and Wollemi raced the rest of the way up the hill.

Chapter Two
The smell of baking bread made Mayten’s stomach growl as they stepped into the house. Da was baking his famous rolls for the morrow’s breakfast. She spied her father at the long wooden table, reading near the woodstove with her youngest brother cradled on his lap.
This was one of her favorite sights—Da in the kitchen filled with memories of family around the table, laughing and talking together. The setting sun cast an orange glow through lace curtains hanging in the open window, dappling the far wall with patterns of light.
“Da, have you seen Mother?”
“No,” he glanced up and his face lit with a warm smile. “I’m sure she’s somewhere. Wollemi, I’m sorry to make you the messenger boy, but would you mind getting Oleaster? He’s back in his garden.”
“I’ll get him,” Wollemi said with a smile before dashing back out the door.
“Mayten, will you change this one, please? It’s almost