Sheedi toured the glen to look for a good place for the shrine. I followed along and steered her away from anything that might disturb the pool. Those were Ikfael’s instructions to me prior to the villagers’ arrival.

We settled on a spot just above the deer thicket to the south. The idea was that it’d be a small, fortified building with a room for a statue of Ikfael and a couple of smaller storage rooms. Tucking the shrine into the hillside, though, would allow the artisans to dig for additional living and storage spaces if needed.

Sheedi was no doubt thinking about my safety, and I wasn’t going to complain. Right now, the Cave of Origins was my fallback if anything disastrous happened at the glen, but it wouldn’t hurt to have another. Maybe I could convince Sheedi to include a secret tunnel as an emergency exit.

The villagers and guests didn’t stay for much longer--just enough to enjoy the cool air around the pool--before heading back to Voorhei. Only when they’d gone completely from the glen did Ikfael pop out of the water to survey the offerings left for her. The otter’s eyes shined.

“What about Otwei?” I asked.

“Gone with the rest,” she signed, dismissing her with a flick. “More importantly, what should I eat now and what should I save for later? Oh, this spoon is made of gold--”

I shook my head and went to find a shady spot to sit. I’d already stored the money I’d earned from Ghitha safely away. I slipped into one with the land, merged with the uekisheile, and we tuned into the portion of ourselves inside Otwei.

“The brat didn’t go anywhere. All he did was stay inside that cave of his for almost a tenday.”

A pause followed.

”There was no way for me to get behind the waterfall to look around. The only time he left was to retrieve the remains of your Family, sir. There must be some sort of storage though. He surprised me when he brought out the warbow and brigandine to sell.”

Another pause.

“I don’t know. Maybe he has a magic to preserve food and keep away scavengers? There’s that healing spell of his, so we know he has the ability.”

We were frustrated hearing only Otwei’s voice, so we carefully wriggled from the heart dantian up the main meridian in her throat and into her upper dantian. We found one of the smaller meridians that paralleled the cochlear nerve connecting the inner ears with her brain and spun a thin tendril between the fibers. We had experience integrating with Ollie/Eight’s body, and the process with Otwei wasn’t any different. If only the signals flowing through the optic nerves weren't so hard to interpret. We’d love to see what she was seeing.

“--and if he does know where the eilesheile is, then he’ll eventually go there.” The voice was male and straightforward. Probably Banan. “No one can resist the lure of taak.”

Otwei snorted. “That one could. You saw where he lived. He might as well be an animal.”

“Could we trade for the location? He was willing to trade these goods.” This was another male voice--Kuros.

“I tried, but the little rat wasn’t willing to tell me.” Ah, that was Ghitha. We knew his voice. “All he was willing to sell were some of my Family’s things and the trash he’d scavenged from the forest.”

The anger inside Otwei flared, spurring her to speak. “Out in the forest, all by himself, who knows what could happen to him. We should teach him of its dangers.”

“Shhh! Don’t let the dolbecs hear you,” Kuros said. “They’re already suspicious about our good luck when hunting.”

Otwei sniffed. “If they want our taak, then they should do what we say.”

“Enough,” Banan said. “The dolbecs have their place--we gather the prey and they help us hunt it. Anything else is outside our agreement with them.”

“So what do we do then?” Kuros asked.

“We hunt the lightning bear,” Banan said. “Once he’s dead, we’ll be able to search the forest safely for the cave entrance.”

“If only Woldec hadn’t been so secretive--” Kuros said.

There was the sound of a slap. A thrill of surprise ran through Otwei, along with an underlayer of delight.

“Don’t speak of my brother,” Ghitha said, stern. “You know nothing of his greatness. He was the village’s savior year after year, but Koda and Dwilla ignored his contributions. All of them, all the ignoramuses of Voorhei, treated him like just another hunter. But he wasn’t. Woldec was earth-touched and at the cusp of dawn. The future was his for the taking.”

“We apologize for speaking out of turn,” Banan said, his voice flat. “Woldec was a light that dimmed much too quickly. We can only hope to follow in his footsteps.”

“Yes, well,” Ghitha said after a pause. “I also apologize. My care for my brother overwhelmed me.”

“We will avenge him,” Banan said. “Already, two of the six hunter teams in Voorhei have told me they would participate, and I expect another in the next few days. With half the lodge at stake, that will force Innleioleia’s hand. He will have to commit the whole lodge or else chance losing half his hunters.”

“Innleioleia is useless,” Ghitha said. “He should’ve been replaced years ago, but our village’s leadership is sentimental. Well, I’ll show them. With you on the hunt, I have confidence that the King of the Forest will fall.”

“And the djiape we requested?” Banan asked.

“The weapons and their people will be transported two days prior to the hunt,” Ghitha said.

“And the salaswar?” Banan asked.

“The elixirs were harder to arrange,” Ghitha said. “I had to promise the Alchemist’s Lodge a permanent discount in exchange. You’d best be grateful.”

“We are,” Banan said. “As long as we’re protected from the lightning qi, we’re sure we can kill the bear.”

“That was the role Grunthen was supposed to play,” Ghitha said, “but he was even more useless than Innleioleia. A coward. A damned rat. A knife in the back. I should’ve killed him myself when I had the chance--”

“Easy now, sir,” Banan said. “You’ll disturb the forest.”

“Yes, yes,” Ghitha said. “I lost myself again. My apologies.”

The discussion tapered off after that; Ghitha grew quiet, while the hunters talked of their plans for the rest of the tenday.

###

Based on what the uekisheile and I overheard, Ghitha knew that Grunthen wasn’t killed by the bear. That’s not something I was able to confirm until I played charades with Bindesei’s ghost. Did that mean Ghitha had a role in Grunthen’s death? It sounded like the answer was no, but that he wished he had.

All along, Ghitha was my number one suspect. He was the one closest to the events leading up to the murders and the one with the most at stake. Also, if I was being honest, I just didn’t want to believe that any of the hunters were murderers. They were all just so helpful. Sure, there was probably a good deal of self-interest behind that help, but I still liked them individually and as a group.

The hunters were plain-spoken people. They joked around, and yet still took their work seriously. That was a potent combination to a man like me. The kids, Billisha and Aluali, had helped me find a place to belong. The hunters’ camaraderie did the same, and I was at ease among them.

What did Ghitha know that Bindesei’s ghost didn’t? And how did he know it? I needed to answer those questions if I wanted an answer to the puzzle of Bindesei and Grunthen’s murders.

As for Otwei, I’d have to watch that one. She relished when other people suffered, and reading her intentions, it was clear to me she was ready and willing to make trouble. Not violence, not quite yet, but she was only a thin line away.

###

The glen was once again spotlessly clean; the offerings from Voorhei carefully tucked away in Ikfael’s pocket. It was surreal to see all that stuff go into such a small space; I was totally envious. Why couldn’t I have an inventory system like that?

Once the sun started to settle in for the night, the escarpment to the west drew a blanket of shadow across the land. Ikfael had us kneel by the pool and wait. She instructed me to be silent. To quiet even my thoughts.

She’d promised something interesting tonight. Apparently, we weren’t alone. An elder--her words--resided under Ikfael Glen and was the one who originally created the spirit door at the bottom of the pool. I’d not seen any evidence of this elder, but Ikfael explained that she awoke from her meditations only once a year--on the solstice--to gaze at the stars.

So, I put my thoughts away--my questions about Bindesei’s murder, my worries about the hunt for the lightning bear, my wonderings about how the kids were doing, and even my curiosity about a being who only awoke once a year. I breathed in the cool air and felt the waterfall’s mist on my skin. I listened to the few birds still singing in the branches.

Ikfael was reverent. Just a little while ago, she was a manic ball of fur getting everything ready, but all that energy was gone. She was as still as undisturbed water.

We sat until the sun set and another blanket--this time of stars--was pulled across the sky. The moon came out and shone down on the glen. Scattered clouds like gray feathers slowly brushed against her face.

At midnight--I know because I happened to glance at my Status--the pool’s surface swelled, like something big was in the water. I looked and fell back as a huge snake breached the surface, shedding water as it came up onto the pool’s lip. The otter bowed, her paws over her heart.

Couldn’t Ikfael have mentioned at least once that the elder was a giant snake? I licked my lips and moved back into kneeling position. I bowed and stayed that way for as long as Ikfael did.

A breath released--a sigh that ran through the snake’s body--and Ikfael sat up. I followed her lead and saw enormous aqua eyes gazing at me, the scales around them gray. There was a flick of the tongue--a tasting of the air--and the snake turned her attention to the stars. She must’ve been at least twenty yards long, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The coiling of her body disguised her true length.

???, stonewater serpent, silver Talents: *Denied*

Nascent: *Denied*

“Elder, we have prepared gifts,” Ikfael signed. She produced from her pocket a red ceramic plate and placed upon it three of my donuts. Next to them, she put a mug full of coffee. There was no steam rising, so it must’ve been cold.

“Should I start a fire to warm it up?” The question just came out. The situation was so out of the ordinary, the snake’s presence so overwhelming, all my brain could do was grapple with the minutiae--that hot coffee would be more welcome on a chilly night.

The enormous snake nodded briefly, not taking her eyes away from the stars. That seemed to surprise Ikfael, but then she got up to help me gather the wood and tinder. That’s when it sank in that something amazing was happening. I mean, there was a giant snake in the glen and all, but not once had Ikfael ever helped with the fire before. I looked her way, but she refused to meet my eyes.

“Just work,” she signed.

So, I got a fire started, and Ikfael brewed a new cup of coffee. She had a French press tucked away in that pocket of hers. I was shaking my head and wondering what else was in there when the smell of brewing coffee hit me. It hit me hard, as did the memories of my old life in which coffee was present. The thermos that came with me as a young man working construction. The coffee that fueled the long days and nights working as a production assistant. The slow mornings waking up with Helen and watching the sun filter through the kitchen curtains. The terrible mud-like brews my children insisted on making every Father’s Day.

Ikfael put her paw on my arm. “Here,” she signed. “Be now. Lose yourself to the past and you’ll miss the opportunity.”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded. With an act of will, I focused my attention on the sensations of my body. I reminded myself of the cool air, the sound of the waterfall, and the warmth of Ikfael’s paw on my arm.

When the otter saw me back under control, she turned to the stonewater serpent and waited. We stayed like that through the rest of the night, another five hours until the horizon to the east began to brighten.

I occasionally changed positions to ease the pins and needles in my legs. Ikfael kept the mug topped up with hot coffee. She replenished the plate of donuts twice. I never did see the serpent eat or drink though. The food and drink would just disappear a bit at a time. Her attention never left the stars above.

A sigh passed through the serpent; a tension and release of her body. She glanced around the glen briefly and then slipped into the water. One moment she was there, and the next gone.

Ikfael fell back with a relieved sigh. She chittered with laughter. “The Elder was pleased,” she signed. “So pleased! I knew she would like the coffee and donuts. They were so good! You were so good, Eight. Diriktot was right, you are a Blessing to the glen.” She suddenly hopped up and ran to where the serpent had been coiled. “Our reward!”

There were two bowls laying there. One was sculpted from mottled stone, while the other carved from mahogany. Ikfael grabbed the stone one like she knew it was hers and plopped down to examine the contents.

The wooden bowl was smooth when I picked it up and strangely warm; the water glowing golden. While the sky was starting to lighten, the sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet. The air, the ground, and the mist were all still cold. I felt myself wanting to hold the warmth tight, to curl around it. A serpent was painted on the bowl’s interior; in the same Meso-American style I’d noted in the bowl that taught me the Healing Water spell.

My whole being was suddenly immersed in the feeling of being home and of belonging. It didn’t hit me like the smell of coffee had, as it wasn’t accompanied by the feeling of loss. Instead, I felt complete. I felt like I was enough.

The spell drew Ikfael away from her reward to gaze down at the bowl. Her hands rose and fell like she wanted to say something, but Signed Diaksh failed her. Like there were no signs to adequately convey what she wanted conveyed. Even the uekisheile came out to bask in the golden light. They’d gotten so good at communicating, but in the spell’s presence, all they could say was feel-family-home.

I felt like I knew these strange friends I’d made, but the light brought us together in an even deeper way. We were able to experience the best of what each of us had to offer. Ikfael’s hidden warmth and playfulness. The uekisheile’s devotion and bright mind. My endurance and commitment to do better.

We sat in a daze in each other’s company until the spell ran out. Looking at the sky, I realized it must’ve been about an hour or so. I was struggling to comprehend what I’d just experienced when Ikfael shook off the spell’s lingering effects and started to hit me. She didn’t use her full strength, so I wasn’t injured, but the vehemence of the strikes startled me.

“Wait. Stop. What’s going on?”

Her clenched paws continued to strike at me, and I did my best to ward them off without hurting myself or her. The uekisheile offered to help, but I told them to just let her be. There were tears in Ikfael’s eyes.

Eventually, the otter ran down, her paws falling to her sides. “Bad Eight,” she signed. “Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What did I do? Was it the spell? I don’t know what it does.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked. “Till you grow up? Till you grow old? Humans live for such a short time. Your life is a leaf flowing downstream. Here now, then gone. So short. It’s not fair. Not fair to make me feel your presence, only to know that you will be gone so quickly.” She hit me once more for good measure and turned away to flee into the pool.

I grabbed Ikfael’s shoulder to stop her. “No you don’t. If it’s one thing I’ve learned is that you don’t go to bed mad. We’re going to talk about this.”

“The glen isn’t lonely. I’m not lonely. I don’t need you,” Ikfael said.

“Yes, of course,” I said gently. “I never thought so.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked, but this time the question wasn’t rhetorical.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” I said. “The glen is my home. Ikfael Glen is--” I paused, unsure if I should continue, but the spell lingered and I found the words slipping from my mouth. “Ikfael Glen is Family, and I won’t abandon my Family.”

Ikfael’s eyes stared into mine, like her life depended on what she saw in them. She went to hit me, this time on the head, but then her paw unclenched and she patted me instead.

“I hate this.” Ikfael grabbed her bowl and turned toward the pool. “So you better find a way to live forever.” Then she dove and disappeared into the water before I could respond.

Question-uekisheile-Ollie/Eight--can we talk too?

“Always,” I said. I felt like a man in the middle of a storm. My emotions were surging, but I could feel them swelling inside the uekisheile too. I had to hold on to make sure the others were okay first.

We felt ourselves. What we are and what we can become. Our thinking--years and years of thinking--has been shallow. We did not know. Even when we lived through your memories, we did not know. We did not recognize our hunger. For the first time, we became full. They paused to mull over what needed to be said. We will not go back to what we were. We are grateful for you teaching us, Ollie/Eight.

And that did it--I’d held on during Ikfael’s outburst, but the uekisheile got me right in the heart. Tears unabashedly fell.

“I love you too, little buddy.”

We are not a little buddy. A wave of determination rolled through the lichen. We are Family, and Ollie/Eight can call us--can call us Yuki.

“Oh,” I said in surprise. I’d wondered if the uekisheile--if Yuki’d ever adopt a name, but I didn’t expect it to happen now. “Sure. That’s a great name. It means--”

Snow or happiness in Japanese, yes, we know. Our choice is for it to mean happiness.

“All right,” I said, nodding. “We can do that.”

Is there anything Ollie/Eight would like to say?

Tears were still running down my face, but Yuki’s tendrils wiped them away. I grinned at how strange my life had become, but I knew in that moment that I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

“Only that you’re Family too, Yuki. I want to make sure you know that.”

I felt Yuki’s satisfaction at having the words said. Their main body settled snugly in my heart dantian.

That’s when Ikfael’s head poked out of the water. “Well, at least I can count on that one to live forever.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at us. “Don’t forget to make breakfast.”