We left the cave after a post-feast nap. It was fascinating to watch the kids prepare. Billisha fought me to wear the backpack, while Aluali held my bow. Both were insistent that I carry only what was immediately useful; that nothing get in the way of my ability to respond to threats.

The kids also talked to each other about the things to bring: water, food, the first aid kit, weapons, and rope. They made sure the backpack’s straps were tight, and the equipment inside was well stowed.

They taught me the Diaksh words for danger, attack, trap, run, hide, scatter, come-close, forward, back, left, right, up, down, underground, near, middle-distance, and far. At the same time, they showed me the Trade Sign equivalents.

These kids, I totally wanted to bring them into my gaming group back in Portland. Not that they were experienced--their actions were hesitant, nervous, and sometimes faltered--but it was clear they’d been told what to do when heading out into the wilderness. They were sensible about the danger, and were doing their best to remember and carry out those instructions. I overruled them on lugging the stuff up to the escarpment, but from there, I let them do as they pleased. They knew this world better than I did.

As for the rest of our stuff, we left it in the cave. There was a decent chance it’d take more than one day to clean up the glen, and we’d come back for it later.

The kids turned on Meliune’s Blessing to walk up the narrow ledge to the escarpment. There, they turned it off to confer and make sure everything was ready. Then, they turned it on again to wait blank-faced for me to lead them to the glen. Their use of the Blessing seemed as simple as putting on their coats before heading out into the rain.

The rest of the way, I wasn’t allowed to help them navigate the obstacles. Not clambering down the bulge in the escarpment. Not holding aside branches to let them through thick bushes. Nothing. All that was required of me was to keep watch and be ready with my spear.

I shook my head. This is a heck of a world you’ve got, Diriktot.

Life-life-life. Loss-sorrow-hunger. Joy-family-delicious. Same-same-same. Tiny bits of the uekisheile poked out of my scalp to help sense for dangerous qi. Unless I ran my hands through my hair, the thin tendrils shouldn’t be visible. Like-like Billisha-Aluali share-food. Question-question-family?

Don’t/know-don’t/know, I responded. Future-uncertain future-- I didn’t know how to continue.

Inside me was a push-pull of emotions. The kids helped me recognize that I’d been lonely. Their singing and dancing were a delight. They were well-behaved and assisted with whatever needed doing. I felt protective of them. At the same time, if I really wanted to protect them, I’d take them to the farms east of Ikfael Glen. The children deserved better than to live in the woods, constantly in danger.

My emotions were clouded. The longing for my own children interfered with making the best decision for Billisha and Aluali. All four children shared a youthful seriousness in common, and I kept getting flashbacks to when Alex and Daniel were little. Would Ikfael Glen even accept Billishi and Aluali?

The uekisheile picked up on my inner turmoil and let me be.

###

The bishkawi alpha’s corpse smelled of raw meat doused in mint extract. The combination was gag-inducing. The kids found it gross too, wrinkling their noses. But that was only after they’d picked their jaws up from the ground. I don’t think they’d understood before just how big the alpha was.

The body was as I’d left it, untouched by scavengers. I was surprised at first, but then realized it was the mint. The chishiaxpe must use the scent as a way to scare off anything that might steal their kills.

The kids wanted to retrieve the arrows, but there was no frickin’ way I was going to let children handle anything poisonous. I cut the argument short by saying, “I adult.”

Billisha’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She turned to Aluali for support, but he shrugged and said, “He adult.”

So I retrieved the arrows myself and carefully wrapped the heads in cloth before placing them in the backpack. Then, we had another argument when Billisha wanted to skin the alpha.

The hide was burned at the shoulder and poked full of holes everywhere else. There was a roughly circular patch on the back that was intact, but I wasn’t sure it was worth the danger. I’d used a lot of poison on the alpha--most of the bottle, in fact--and I was leery of accidental contact.

Thinking about it, I decided not to pull the “adult” card again. One, it was obnoxious and not necessarily good parenting. And two, the kids had been helpless while in Boscun and Kaad’s hands. They needed to now feel like they had control over their own lives.

So I explained that there were almost a dozen bodies waiting for us; less damaged bodies with single wounds. It’d be a lot safer to skin them instead of the alpha. I could see the reluctance in Billisha’s eyes--the alpha was clearly a prize--but she let herself be convinced. She expressed her determination, though, to skin the other bishkawi.

I agreed. It’d delay our arrival, but not significantly.

Along the way, we also fought over who would pull the poisoned stakes and what to do with them. Short answer: I did, and I buried the poisoned heads. I didn’t want the kids carrying them nor some poor rando hunter to accidentally stumble across them.

The kids made quick work of the bishkawi hides. They weren’t just Talented. They’d also been trained. We had three rolled up bishkawi hides with us when we left the deer thicket.

###

The glen smelled ten times worse than the alpha, the scent of minty spoiled meat pervading the place. The bodies from last night weren’t too bad, but the dead from the fight between the turkeys and bishkawi had sat in the sun for a couple days now.

I managed to hold onto my breakfast, but barely, while poor Aluali dropped to all fours to vomit. That, in turn, triggered Billisha to toss up her share. Bleurgh.

I jumped to keep the yellow-blue gruel-like stream from splattering my shoes. It was nasty.

While the kids recovered, I approached the pool. Ikfael needed to know it was safe to return, so I made a spirit sculpture of me with my spear raised in victory. A whole troop of bishkawi lay at my feet. When the sculpture was done, I tossed it into the water, and it passed through the spirit door without any problems.

Moments later, Ikfael’s figure shot out of the water to land beside me. She wore a Powell’s City of Books t-shirt, a Portland Trail Blazers ball cap, and cheap sunglasses, the kind you’d buy for ten dollars at Saturday Market.

She took off the sunglasses for a better look at the state of the glen. Her face was expressive: shock, disgust, disbelief, anger, and a distressed expression that was hard for me to interpret.

I leaned in to support her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t--”

Bleurgh. Ikfael heaved onto me, a firehose blasting a blend of milky coffee and donuts. There were mushy Fruit Loops mixed in, so they were probably from Voodoo Donuts. Yeah, that was likely. The shop was a popular tourist spot.

Ikfael grasped my shirt with both paws and vomited a second time. Just how many donuts had she eaten? I looked up and away; ignoring the warm fountain dousing my jacket. The sky was so blue, dotted with only a handful of feathered clouds. Just how had I gotten into this mess?

###

An hour later, all the carcasses were shoved to one corner; waiting for Ikfael to recover. She sat at the edge of the pool, bent over and winded like she’d run a marathon. A part of me wondered if she was going to throw up again. The other part wondered just how the heck she was so strong.

I’d seen her create pseudopods from water before, but to clean up the glen, she’d raised half the pool into a tsunami to carry away everything not attached to the ground. The children and I were abruptly warned to get out of the area beforehand, so we were dry. The rest of the glen was sodden with water though.

Alas, I think Ikfael broke the kids. They were surprised by my Level. They were shocked at the alpha’s core. They were amazed by the size of the alpha. But Ikfael… Ikfael was apparently on a whole other level.

As soon as they saw her, Billisha and Aluali prostrated themselves and stayed that way. I had to drag them out of the glen to make sure they didn’t get swept up by the water. When Ikfael was done, though, they went right back to it.

Had I underestimated Dr. Otter? Was she even more amazing than I thought? Either that or sentient animals were rare. But no, she wasn’t an animal, was she? According to the Status Camera, she was a Spirit of the Land.

Click.

Ikfael Glen, Spirit of the Land Talents: One with Water and Stone, Hoarder’s Pocket, Artist, Foodie

Nascent: Ritualist, Door Guard, ???

Last I checked, Foodie and Artist were Nascent. The adventure with Diriktot must’ve triggered them into becoming full-blown Talents. Just what exactly did they do in Portland?

A couple more Nascent Talents revealed themselves. Ritualist wasn’t a surprise, given the number of rituals she’d performed. Door Guard though--I’d thought that the Spirit Door at the bottom of the pool was created by Ikfael, but the Talent implied that it was there independently of her. Maybe all that time spent lazing in the pool, she was actually working?

I caught Ikfael glaring in my direction. Her eyes narrowed, like I was in big trouble. Beside me, still on the ground, I heard Billisha gulp.

It was good to see the kids in the glen. I’d worked hard to make it a safe place for Ikfael and me. Maybe it could be a safe place for them too.

Ikfael’s paw gestured, “Come here. Sit.”

This wasn’t the first time in my life I’d been in trouble. I knew it was best to face it head on and get through it as fast and cleanly as possible. I squared my shoulders and sat where she’d directed.

Ikfael surprised me by erecting a sheet of water, so that the kids could no longer see us. She pointed at my heart, exactly where the uikisheile resided. “Show me.”

My eyebrows rose. She knew?

The uekisheile and I had worked out a way to hide their qi behind mine, but apparently, it wasn’t as effective as we thought it was. I mean, I was going to tell Ikfael about the uekisheile. Eventually. After asking her about the kids. Maybe tomorrow. After I’d figured out a way to explain the situation.

Right. Jig’s up. It took a second to change mental gears. Come-out-little/buddy.

They sprouted abundantly, all over my face and neck, so much so that the uekisheile’s tufts obscured my vision. They waved happily at Ikfael, tickling my nose. Joy-joy-encounter. Meet-visit-family.

I cleared the tufts out of the way and saw that Ikfael was suddenly standing ten yards away; looking dubiously in my direction. “It’s okay,” I said. “Safe,” I gestured in Trade Sign. I repeated the word in Diaksh, while petting the uekisheile.

Ikfael watched, and the caution slowly--very slowly--melted into curiosity. She came closer, moved her shirt aside to pull a--yes, that was a pool cue--she pulled a pool cue from her pocket, and used it to poke the uekisheile.

Tickles-tickles-tickles.

The uekisheile wriggled, which in turn caused its tufts to tickle me even more. I giggled, like a little kid. Oh, we broke Ikfael. She just stared at us.

The moment drew out, and the uekisheile wondered if they should go over to make sure everything was all right with friend-family-Ikfael. Fortunately, that plan was cut short when Ikfael sighed and rubbed her face in disbelief.

She put the pool cue away and drew water from the pool to shape into a tablet. Whatever she saw in it, though, broke her again. The expression on her face--it was the same as if seeing for the first time a clown riding a unicycle down the street while singing opera and juggling apples.

By the way, my record was three times with three different clowns. Ah, Portland, my dear friend, I surely missed you.

I badly wanted to look at the screen, but Ikfael woke up at my movement. She stepped back to keep the distance between us and shook her head. “Stay there.”

Eventually, she let the tablet dissipate. “Hide that,” she gestured, and when the uekisheile disappeared inside me, the water curtain fell to the ground.

Well, at least the uekisheile was enjoying themselves. Ikfael-fun-delicious. Glen-qi-delicious. Rich-creamy-dense.

No/eat-friend-friend, I said to them.

Understand-understand-friend. Understand-understand-family, they happily replied. Family-family-grows.

Huh. It was true that I was fond of Ikfael. She’d saved my life and given me the gift of magic. We’d worked together to fight off the glen’s invaders, and there was no denying that the otter was adorable, even when she rolled her eyes at me.

Family didn’t always mean the one you were born into. They were assembled and built over time, with care and effort. I’d been half-lucky with my first family, and incredibly lucky with my second. Was this a chance for a third?

Ikfael pointed to the children. She signed, “I question those people.” She pointed to the pile of bishkawi and turkey carcasses. “I question those.”

So I told the story of the bishkawi troop’s invasion of the glen. She’d likely witnessed the parts that took place in the glen, but there was so much more that happened. Using a mix of pantomime, Trade Sign, and my limited vocabulary in Diaksh, I ran through the events of the past few days: the cunning of the bishkawi, being trapped in the cave, fighting the zombies, the Red Room, killing the chliapp lion, freeing the children--all of it.

The story was told plainly, without too many embellishments. I didn’t want it to feel like I was trying to win Ikfael’s praise or her favor. Our relationship had come farther than when we first bartered for the magic dagger.

It was Helen that taught me that plain, honest communication was best when situations became complicated--to listen and speak with the intent to connect. The act was simplicity itself, and yet so very hard to do.

So, I pretended I was talking to Helen and explained the things I’d had to do to make things right for the glen. I made sure to credit the uekishelie and the children for helping. They were instrumental in getting me ready for the fight.

The story was as honest as I could make it, and I felt my heart in my throat afterward. Only by telling the story did I realize just how hard the experience had been.

The look on Ikfael’s face was complicated, like I’d handed her a big problem. Like she was pleased and embarrassed. Like she didn’t know what to do. She ran a paw through the fur on her head and sat down to think. The position was familiar--it was the same one she adopted when debating with herself about first teaching me magic.

Last time, it’d taken her hours to decide, so I walked over to where the children lay prostrated. “Come. Help with turkey and bishkawi,” I said.

Billisha looked up, tears in her eyes. Aluali was blank-faced, but I saw that his hands trembled. They must’ve been eavesdropping. Neither of them looked afraid of me or disturbed by what I said I’d done. I sighed and patted their heads. They really were good kids.

“Work help quiet mind,” I said. “Come.”

I stood them up and led them to the carcasses piled up at the edge of the glen. They were hesitant at first, but I pulled them along.

We sorted the bodies: the ravaged ones were dragged outside Ikfael’s territory, while the intact dead were kept behind. I recovered the arrows and let the kids skin the bodies. I also cut a hunk of meat from one and tossed it outside the glen. It’d be my test to see if the meat was poisoned. I didn’t think so, but didn’t want to risk the children’s lives on a supposition.

When we were done, I showed the kids how to knap flint and make wood-working tools. We had our knives and axes, but an adze and draw knife would still be helpful. We also started braiding cordage. The goal was to eventually make racks for the bishkhawi hides. Even if the kids ended up at the farms to the east, the racks would be helpful to me.

Around five, we went downstream to fish. Ikfael still sat in the same place, her paw tapping as she thought.

We made short, improvised spears for Billisha and Aluali, but they were terrible fishers. Too slow and not very good judges of movement underwater. It was an effort not to laugh, but they took it so seriously, I didn’t want to embarrass them.

The kids were intent, as if their survival depended on how well they fished. Well, it did. But also it didn’t. I was there, after all.

We stayed long enough for me to catch four fish: a trout, two bass, and a salmon. The salmon was a particularly chunky treat, almost two feet long. It didn’t look like the chinook I was used to. More like Atlantic. Whatever kind it was, my mouth watered in anticipation. I loved grilled salmon, and we had salt with us!

Back at the glen, Billisha started the fire. She didn’t have any problems using the Fire Starter, so she must’ve had access to her mana.

I’d been unsure about how common it was. “You use magic?”

“Magic?” Obviously, Billisha didn’t know the English word.

I pretended to be Ikfael bending the water to her will. I hesitated--but only for a moment--and decided to show them Cold Snap. The kids gasped and jumped back. Their eyes were big as saucers, touching the frozen puddles on the ground.

“No, I no use magic,” Billisha said, shaking her head clear of yet one more surprise. “I no Skill. I no trained.” She demonstrated the unfamiliar word.

I pointed to the Firestarter. “How use?”

“No need Skill to use mana. Just eisendon.” Billisha opened her shirt to show me a scar above her heart, shaped like a shepherd’s crook with fillagreed wings.

“I have eisendon,” Aluali said, and he showed me his scar. “Get when small child.” He made the motion for rocking a baby. “You no have eisendon?”

“I have inside,” I said, showing them my bare chest. Whatever Ikfael did to me, it hadn’t left any scars.

The kids looked at each other in surprise, but it passed quickly. The shocks had come often and quickly, and they were learning to adapt.

A moment later, Billisha nodded to herself. “Yes, I understand. We understand. Zasha is--” She frowned searching for a way to explain the next word. She enlisted Alauli’s help, and they came up with a number of gestures.

Apparently, I was either a giant, the sun, a deep pool of water, and/or a wriggling motion of the fingers. I took it to mean something grand.

Gods help me, I blushed. When was the last time, I’d blushed? Not since Helen was alive. “And zasha?”

They struggled again to explain the meaning. I was a roof, a rain cloud, a stalk of corn, a protector and source of life. A benefactor.

I felt my heart swell. These kids, they were just too sweet. That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. The heart wants what the heart wants. I’ll just have to do my best to protect them. “I question. You want stay--”

At the same time, Billisha started asking, “We question. We want stay--”

The three of us stared at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing.

My smile faded, only the edges lingering. “You want stay? You understand danger?”

Billisha also turned serious. “We understand danger. Forest danger. Village danger. All danger. We stay with zasha. Zasha want us?”

“Yes, I want you, but--” I looked over at Ikfael.

She’d been watching us for the past few minutes, and looked put upon. Like incredibly put upon.

Ikfael shook her head in dismay, like she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. “You stay,” she said pointing to each of us. “I want fish. One day, one fish. You and you and you, give one fish. And three bishkawi hide. And--” she looked at our stuff. “Knife. Two knife. Three knife. And, and, you hunt food. You fight for Ikfael Glen. We trade?”

Barter 4 -> 5

Relationships 8 -> 9

I grinned, swiping away the notification. “No. No. We no trade. We share. We give. We give with Ikfael Glen.”

After all, we give when it’s for family.