Home was a three room cabin, hidden from sight behind a cluster of trees near the edge of the forest. By the time Taryn and her mother had reached it, Taryn’s sleeves were pierced, shredded and dotted with blood. She didn’t care; it distracted her from the fact that her mother was upset again.

“Alright,” Mama said, anxiety pulsing from her mind. “You have to let it go now.”

“But I want to keep him,” Taryn said, hugging the squirming pack to her chest.

“Taryn, you can either kill it and eat it or let it go. You can’t keep it.”

Taryn gasped and hugged the pack tighter. “I’m not going to kill him. I love him.” There was something odd in the look her mother gave her. Taryn told herself not to try to decipher its meaning; nothing good could came of it. She looked away, just as a furry mass escaped the pack and a small paw made for her face. Taryn suppressed her cry of pain as she held a hand up to suspend the gray squirrel in the air before it could land. She reached for it’s immobilized form and held it to her chest.

“But it doesn’t love you,” Mama said.

“He will,” Taryn insisted, wiping the blood from her scratched cheek on her shoulder. “I could train him and –”

“No it won’t. Look at it! It’s terrified of you. It doesn’t belong in that sack. It doesn’t belong in your room. It will always try to get away from you and it’s cruel of you to capture and keep it like… like this.” She motioned to the squirrel, his paws trapped by Taryn’s telekinesis. “It belongs in the wild,” Mama said gently. “With its own kind.”

Taryn studied the creature’s face. Wild eyes stared back at her but she didn’t know if they were excited or scared. All she knew was that her failed attempts to pierce the creature’s silent mind had been the only thing keeping her from the contents of her mother’s. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if Mama would have been less surprised if she had crippled the creature so it would never be able to escape her.

Taryn released him. He was in such a hurry to get away from her that he tore the skin on her fingers as he leapt from her hands and scurried up the first tree he found.

“You did the right thing.” Mama was relieved, Taryn knew. But there was something else, too. There was always something else.

Taryn tried to avoid it but they were standing so close. And Mama watched her so carefully that their eyes were drawn. And that empty part of her began to ache and yearn and before Taryn could stop it, it reached. It searched for that something else that lingered beyond her mother’s guarded looks and hollow laughter, behind the shadowed eyes that watched her from the corners of Taryn’s memories. And she found it. Buried deep beneath Mama’s relief that Taryn had released her new pet, hiding behind Mama’s tight smile now, Taryn could hear the whispered thoughts that cursed her as a creature of darkness, incapable of mercy or compassion, unable to love or be loved.

Taryn reeled.

Mama didn’t just hate her abilities, she didn’t just frown at the corners of Taryn’s life because she suddenly recalled some painful memory. Her mother hated… her.

The tears came unbidden. They stung her eyes and she turned away to wipe them before they could fall. Then she ran. Past their small field of summer crops, past the brilliant array of her mother’s flower beds and around the barn that housed the few animals the family owned. She ran until she reached the cabin’s side door and escaped into the kitchen.

Taryn was desperate for the infantile bliss she’d find in Nayt’s dreaming mind. She was pleasantly surprised when she stepped around the table in search of his crib – and found him and Papa on the kitchen floor. Papa’s back was to her as he tried to coax Nayt into opening his mouth. She was so accustomed to his stoicism when making impossible demands on her during their lessons that she laughed out loud when she heard the silly sounds he made. It was a rare treat to see him grovel for her brother’s cooperation.

Today’s mush was a mix of potatoes and carrots. There were splotches of the orange and white paste on the floor around them and all over the boy’s half naked body but the bowl in Papa’s hand was still nearly full. Nayt was more interested in feeding it to the wooden figure of a snarling wolf he clutched in his hand than eating it himself.

“Good afternoon, Papa.” Taryn wiped her eyes and bent to kiss the sweaty russet orb that was her father’s bald head. Then she crouched and let her brother see her.

There was nothing in the world Taryn loved more than her baby brother. She touched the minds of hundreds of people in a day. She’d experienced centuries of lives in the year since she’d developed her empathy; dozens in the days since she’d acquired telepathy. She had known crippling fear and blind hate, so many kinds of cruelty and pain. She’d seen the damage uncontrolled and repressed anger could cause. She’d felt the stings of regret and love lost and won and lost again. She’d been on both ends of betrayal and unrequited love. And now she knew what it was like to despise her own child. But it was there, in Nayt’s mind, that she knew pure joy. One look – one smile – from him and she forgot everything else.

She was vaguely aware of Papa asking after her mother and her injuries but Taryn was lost. Young minds were so wide open they practically pushed their thoughts into hers. She might be able to quiet the screams or weaken the intensity of the emotions she felt from others but it was impossible with infants. Even when she couldn’t hear anyone else’s thoughts, when her empathy had been in its early stages, Nayt’s mind always seemed to find its way into her head. Only a great distance could ever silence it.

Nayt abandoned his games and crawled the few paces to her lap. Soft fingers reached for her and she let him capture her hand so he could clamp one of her fingers between his teeth and gums. Nayt grinned at the salty taste of something familiar in his little world of strange. Wet with drool and tickled by Nayt’s gnawing, Taryn pulled her finger back and helped her brother to stand so she could hug him. “I’m happy to see you too.” Taryn drew back and saw that the mush from Nayt’s chest had flattened where they had been pressed against her vest. She moved the swath of cloth that rested on her father’s shoulder into her hand and used it to wipe them both clean. “Even if you are messy.”

Then she felt him slip away as Papa lifted Nayt away and settled himself between them. Her memories of the past hour fought through the haze of Nayt’s mind for her attention.

“Are you alright?” he asked her as he touched her face.

Taryn nodded. “It’s just a scratch.” Her voice was thick with emotion she tried to suppress. She shared a smile with Nayt to strengthen her resolve.

“What happened?” Papa knew that she only disappeared into Nayt to avoid crying. And Taryn didn’t cry easily – he’d made sure of that.

Taryn looked away. He never took advantage of her empathy by looking directly into her eyes, but this was how she told him that she didn’t want to talk about something. He sighed, but he let the issue drop. He wanted Taryn to learn to solve her own problems.

“Why are you still here?” Mama finally joined them in the kitchen and Taryn couldn’t help cringing as her mind joined the others in her range. “You were supposed to feed him over an hour ago.”

Taryn watched from the corner of her eye as her mother placed her school pack on the counter and began searching the drawers beneath. Nayt’s affections had turned to their mother and, for once, it wasn’t impossible for Taryn to resist sharing his delight. Not easy, but not impossible.

“Well, I’m sorry.” Papa rose from his crouch. He placed Nayt’s bowl on the table and stretched before reaching for his own. “But I don’t think he likes the taste of bland,” her father joked as he seated himself at the table.

Taryn felt his hunger mingle with her own and she cast a glance at the steaming cauldron hanging over the hearth. She let the rich smell of seasoned beef stew fill her nostrils. Mama took the bowl and spoon from Papa’s hands. She poured some of the gravy into Nayt’s bowl and started mixing.

“How was I supposed to know to do that?” Papa shrugged and retook his bowl.

“Its common sense, Papa,” Taryn interjected. “And you’re not supposed to let him play with these or he’ll be too distracted to eat.” Taryn moved the toys from the floor and make them circle in the air around her and Nayt before landing them out of his sight on the table. And she felt it again, the stab of hatred from her mother. It was small, like a needle prick in the back of her skull, but unmistakable.

“Ah, I see I have two children and one very intelligent helper.” Mama smiled down at her and swapped Nayt’s bowl for the supplies she’d taken from the drawers: strips of bandages, Taryn saw, and a jar of ointment.

“I’m fine,” Taryn insisted angrily as she stepped away from her mother’s hands.

“You are not.”

“What happened to her?” Papa asked around mouthfuls.

“She caught a squirrel that didn’t want to be caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“No, it isn’t. It’s cruel.”

“Catching moving targets has been something of a challenge for her. If she managed to get her mind on an unpredictable moving target, well, that’s cause for celebration. I’m proud of you, Monkey,” he said to her. “How’d you finally manage it?”

Taryn had been uniquely motivated to succeed. But she shrugged nonchalantly, rather than explain, and basked in her father’s adulation. It reminded Taryn that she didn’t have to be bitter about her mother’s feelings; she had Papa’s love. And Nayt. They would be enough. “She made me let him go.”

“Then we’ll just have to try again. I think it’s time we see how effective you can be as a hunter.”

“No!” Mama yelled, and her mild panic effectively squashed both Taryn’s and her father’s excitement. “We are not encouraging this.” The woman stared her husband down, begging and demanding both in a single look. It was the look of a woman terrified and desperate and when Papa nodded his agreement, Taryn glowered at the both of them. “I’m sorry that you’re angry with me,” Mama said to her. “But it’s no reason to let your injuries go untreated. Those things carry all sorts of diseases.”

Taryn was confused. The concern she felt from her mother now was genuine. But she couldn’t reconcile it with the hatred she had felt just moments before. Still, she took the jar from her mother’s hands and applied the salve to the scratch on her face. She reached into her sleeves for the minor bites and scratches along her arms; under her shirt to spread the ointment on the injuries to her torso. She worked quickly, her angry eyes trained on her mother the whole time. When she was done, she handed the jar back and ignored the bandages. The woman was not pleased but she didn’t insist.

When Mama reached for Nayt’s bowl, Taryn preempted her again by lifting it off the table and guiding it into her own hands. Taryn shuffled to her brother and her mother sighed and moved away. As Taryn expertly served spoonfuls of the brown mush into Nayt’s mouth, she was not unaware of the silent, tension-filled conversation that passed between their parents.

Whatever her mother told him, Taryn could feel her father relax. Not for the first time, Taryn marveled at this. No matter how much she learned about someone, she could never understand them enough to be able to communicate with them with nothing more than meaningful looks and subtle gestures.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Papa announced as he shoved away from his empty bowl and moved to join his wife. He reached for a canvas wrapped bundle on the counter behind her. He unwrapped it and turned, yelling, “Monkey, catch!”

Nayt’s lips were closed around the spoon and his hands clutched the rim of the bowl in Taryn’s hand. She was about to pry his soft fingers away when her father’s call came, accompanied by a surge of terror from Mama. She freed both of her hands, using one to telekinetically hold the bowl hovering at eye level. The other she raised to stop whatever her father had thrown midair.

It was a longsword, shined and – she pressed her fingers against the edges of the blade – blunted. She guided it into her waiting hand and stared at it in confusion. It was a two-handed weapon, much too heavy for her to physically lift, let alone swing. “But… What happened to Fairy Dust?” ‘Fairy Dust’ was the name she’d given to the sword he’d presented her with that morning, a hand-and-a-half, needle-tipped, perfectly balanced genius of craft. That had been the sword of her dreams, the sword she’d spent years drilling for.

Papa smiled and retrieved the smaller blade from the counter behind him. “You’re only six–”

“Almost seven,” Taryn interjected.

“Nearly seven,” Papa allowed. “So Fairy Dust is fine for now. But you should think about giving your next sword a proper name. No one will take you seriously as a warrior if you give your weapons fairy names.”

“But no one wants to say they were beaten by a sworn named Fairy Dust,” Taryn said. “It’ll make my matches more fun.” Papa laughed and in it Taryn felt admiration, pride and so much love. “Does this mean you’re going to spar with me?”

“How else are you going to learn to add power to your form?”

Taryn ran to hug him. “Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re very welcome, Chunky Monkey.”

Taryn had released her hold on Nayt’s bowl so that it clattered to the floor. Mama had to leave Papa’s side to ensure that Nayt didn’t make a mess with it, allowing Taryn to fully enjoy this moment with her Papa. “You said we wouldn’t start sparring for another month,” Taryn said as she traded weapons with her father.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since the day you were born. Before then, even. I think we’ve put it off long enough,” he said as he parried some friendly strokes from her. “But these will be your most important lessons. I expect you to be focused from now on.”

“I know, Papa.” Taryn remembered the morning’s speech. “But…” When he learned that she had kept her new abilities a secret, he’d make sure she wouldn’t see Fairy Dust again until she’d spent another month ‘perfecting her form.’ She looked back at Mama, pleading, for her father’s sake, for mercy. The woman shook her head.

“But what?” Papa asked.

Taryn couldn’t look at him as she handed Fairy Dust back. He was the only one who ever praised her accomplishments and she couldn’t stand to face his disappointment.

“But what?” he repeated forcefully. “Malah, what happened?”

“We need to talk,” Mama said.

“I thought everything was fine.”

Taryn turned to the drawers behind her and retrieved a bundle of coarse fabric. It was her parents’ specially designed torture device; a burlap pouch that was just big enough to fit her clasped hands with two long strips attached to be wrapped around Taryn’s wrist and hands, and then tied around her waist. It was the only way to prevent a mutant from moving and the only form of punishment Taryn dreaded.

Taryn winced away from her father’s disappointment and handed the restraints to her mother; she was always the one to exact the punishment, even when Papa had done the sentencing. Taryn said nothing as she was bound, seated and scooted forward until her chest pressed against the edge of the table.

“Don’t move,” her mother said softly. Then she rose and walked out the door behind Taryn.

Papa followed, his disappointment replaced with worry.

Taryn was worried too. Whenever she was being punished like this, all that was ever said about it was why. There may occasionally be some discussion on how long the punishment would last but her parents never had to leave the room to do it. Unless they were talking about things they didn’t want Taryn to know. Possibly the same things they would have to tell her eventually. Things she would normally be curious enough about to try to listen in on. But she felt something more powerful than curiosity now.

Nayt sat at Taryn’s feet. His big brown eyes stared up at her. His mouth hung open, dribbling drool past his wet lips. He was hopeful, expectant. Taryn began to panic. “Wait!” she called. “Don’t leave me alone with him.” But the door had already closed behind them and Taryn couldn’t feel either of their presences to know if there were close enough to hear her.

“Please stop it, Nayt,” she pleaded. Nayt wanted to see his toys run, leap and soar through the air around him. He wanted to catch them in his fist and crush them with his gums. He wanted her to play with him. He didn’t understand that her punishment meant that she couldn’t.

Taryn’s arms were completely immobile. She couldn’t lift her hands from her lap. She couldn’t even wiggle a finger. Her feet dangled above the floor and her chair was pushed so close to the table that she would scrape her chest against the edge if she tried to get up. The only moving she could do was with her feet, which were only good for moving things fast and hard; and her head, which was only useful if she wanted to nudge something delicately.

Then there was the other ability she had; the one she’d kept a secret for over a month. “You’re going to get me into even more trouble,” she said weakly.

Taryn wasn’t allowed unsupervised moving with Nayt. Add her secret ability and the fact that she wasn’t supposed to use any of her abilities for the next fifteen minutes, Taryn was sure if she succumbed now she wouldn’t see a real sword for another year.

She stared intently at the carvings Papa had drawn into the table. Following the lines with her mind, she distracted herself by creating stories with the images there. And it worked. Too well. When she noticed that Nayt’s presence was completely gone from her mind, she looked up from the carvings and became acutely aware of him again. He’d grown bored of watching her ignore him and had gone off in search of other entertainment.

Taryn watched with growing dread as Nayt crawled toward the hearth, allured by the dull embers that rested beneath the hot cauldron. They had once glowed the most brilliant shade of orange and he wished to make them do so again. “No, Nayt. Stop. Come back here!”

He was already halfway there when he stopped to turn back to her. But the boy had no sense of danger; he couldn’t be threatened or warned away. And if no one moved to stop him… He turned back and hurried to the hearth, this time with a smile and a giggle. This was just another game to him.

Taryn strained her neck to look to the door behind her, casting herself out to try to reach her parents’ minds, hoping they would be returning. But she couldn’t feel them. They were too far away and not getting any closer.

Taryn groaned her frustration. Oh, why had they left her alone with him? Like this? Mama had to have known something like this would happen. It was entrapment, Taryn thought. It had to be. Her mother probably knew she’d lied about not having other secrets. Her parents were probably waiting just outside the door or peering into a window waiting to see what she would do. But as Nayt drew closer to peril, the door behind her remained closed and her abilities revealed only silence beyond.

Taryn hung her head in defeat. She was going to have to distract him. But not before she tried again to reason with him. If she was going to be punished for the next year, she wanted it to be because she’d had no other choice.

“Nayt, no!” Taryn shouted when he’d reached the stone step that raised the fires from the kitchen floor. She’d thrown all her frustration and desperation into those words, hoping she could convey the seriousness of her request. It was enough to make him stop again; to turn and look again. “Don’t touch!” These were words he was familiar with but used to ignoring. But there must have been something in Taryn’s expression to make him want to change his response.

He gave her such a sad, heart wrenching look. His brow furrowed, his nose scrunched up. His lips parted in a frown and he let out a slow, quiet whine.

“No, no, no! Please don’t cry.” Taryn pleaded, tears already stinging her own eyes. Soon his quiet whine would turn into a full wail and if it went on too long, she’d start crying too. An infant’s pain was the worst kind of pain. It was a hopeless one, with no perceivable end. Taryn could already feel the absolute despair building in him and he projected his sorrow onto her.

The first tear fell from her left eye.

“Alright, alright,” Taryn sighed, blinking the rest away. “I’m going to show you something secret, okay. But you can’t tell anyone, especially Mama.” Taryn didn’t want to find out what would happen if her parents knew they could no longer control her; not with these burlap straps. But Nayt’s pain was growing and she wanted to make him stop. She wanted to entertain him with her abilities, even if she did get into trouble. Babies were selfish that way. “So please stop crying so I can focus.”

Taryn blinked the tears out of her eyes and focused on the glass vase at the center of the table. It was filled weekly with flowers from her mother’s garden. This week’s bouquet was an arrangement of carnations, daisies, and lilies. Taryn honed in on one lily and willed one of its petals off.

She let out a slow breath as it came away. “Look, Nayt,” she said as she willed it to float in his direction. She smiled to show him she wasn’t angry with him. “It’s flying.” She teased him with the single petal to draw him away from the hearth and back to her. He quieted down to intermittent sniffles as he watched her work on getting a dozen petals floating in front of her. She arranged them into the form of a person, using two petals for each of its arms and legs, one for its torso and another – folded into a loop – for the head.

Then she tested her control over it. She bent its knees and elbows; twisted its waist and made it do a back flip. She wanted to be certain that she could keep all the pieces in place. She laid the last two petals side by side on the table and made the figure stand on it. She sent the whole thing flying to her baby brother and made it brush a stub against his face. It startled him into silence. She made the figure perform a few punches and jumping kicks she learned from Papa, mixed in with some chops and thrusts. Nayt was happy just to see the little man move. He reached for it, pushing the petals away from him and Taryn was unable to maintain control of them. It lost its shape and its dismembered limbs fell lifeless to the floor.

Nayt watched them fall. He babbled quietly as he tried to poke them back to life. Taryn focused her thoughts on making them swirl around his finger before she turned away from his squeals of delight to gather some more petals. She made ten smaller figures of six petals each and willed them over the edge of the table. Some of them landed on Nayt’s head or arms, some clung to his bare chest. Others fell to the floor and started marching up his legs and climbed up to reach his face.

They both giggled as Nayt swatted them away.

On either side of the vase were crystal bowls, half filled with water. Floating along the surface were a few Glow Blossoms. They were a rich green flower, with layer upon layer of long, thin petals. Sometimes, in the moonlight, they glowed. They were an extremely rare plant and Mama’s favorite. That was another thing they had in common.

Taryn picked over two dozen of its outer petals and shook the water from them. Nayt had succeeded in smashing all of the little white men. Their limbs lay on the floor around him. Taryn sent the green petals flying into his face. He drew back, slapping them off of his face and out of his sight. They flew into the air and hovered above his head. After he calmed down from that attack, the white petals did the same. All of the petals swirled above his head and he tried to reach up and grab them.

Five times he made it to his feet without seeming to try. And five times he fell back on his cushioned bum.

“Keep trying, Nayt. You have to really want it.” Taryn arranged the petals to form butterflies and dragonflies. Their wings flapped around Nayt’s head before rising out of his reach. When he stood this time, he stayed up.

“I knew you could do it!” Taryn said. “But you can do better than that, can’t you?” Taryn lowered the petals but moved them away, daring Nayt to follow. He took one step.

Nayt was getting excited because he was closer to the elusive petals and Taryn was excited because she would be the first to see her baby brother walk.

“That’s amazing! But it’s not really walking unless you take at least two steps,” Taryn goaded. “Can you give me one more? Just go a little further.”

Taryn kept the petals flapping just out of his reach. He took three frantic steps forward that looked more like he was trying to jump than walk but he caught up to the petals and grabbed a fistful. He was elated but Taryn was shocked. Beyond shocked, she was horrified. She couldn’t understand why. Until she noticed that the room had grown brighter. And there were shadows moving across the floor.

Her parents had returned.

Taryn released her hold on the petals. They fell, like coins floating to the bottom of a fountain, swirling in the currents created by her mother’s legs as she hurried to scoop Nayt into her arms. Taryn sat petrified as Papa joined Mama in inspecting Nayt’s limbs, bending them and moving him to see that his parts still worked. When they were satisfied, Mama held him against her and kissed his head. Papa stroked Nayt’s back reassuringly before turning into the doorway behind them and disappearing into the rest of the cabin.

When her mother looked at Taryn, every line in her face projected anger. The twist of her lips, disgust. Gone was the mother who’d been so concerned over a few scratches. This woman hated her again. But her eyes were sad. They were red and puffy, like she’d been crying. “I’m sor–”

“What is wrong with you?” Mama hissed.

That stung. “Nothing. I thought –”

“Your brother is not some toy you can control!”

“What does that have to do wi –”

“We thought you would have enough sense to realize that you cannot play puppet with people’s bodies.”

“Of course I do.” Taryn was beginning to realize what her mother was so upset about. “I would never –”

“How did you think this was going to end?”

“Mama, listen to me. I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, I did but it’s –”

“What would you have done if you had hurt him?”

“I wouldn’t have!” Taryn was growing impatient with the accusations. “I didn’t do anything to him!”

Papa returned then. He didn’t look angry like Mama did. He was expressionless. And that scared Taryn even more. Clutched in one of his fists was a black case, large enough to fit a few styluses. Somehow, Taryn didn’t think that was what it held.

Mama’s anger turned to fear when she saw that little black case and she reach desperately for her husband’s wrist. “No, you can’t.”

“Malah, we have to.” Her father’s voice was strained with emotion. He didn’t sound at all happy about what was about to happen either.

Taryn didn’t know what was in the case but if it scared both of her parents she was right to be absolutely terrified of it.

“Please just listen to me!” Taryn jumped out of her seat and stepped around the table. “The only thing I did wrong was use my abilities when I wasn’t supposed to. There is nothing wrong with how I used them. All I did was move the petals. He stood on his own and followed them. Okay?”

Taryn didn’t know if she was getting through or not. Her parents’ thoughts were silent and their feelings were changing too fast for her to identify.

“And for that I’m really sorry. But you left me alone with him and he really wanted me to do something.”

Both of her parents started to say something but she wanted to finish explaining before they interrupted her again.

“I would never try to move him or anyone. I know I’m not supposed to use my abilities that way.”

Whatever they were feeling wasn’t going away; it was getting stronger. Their mouths hung slightly open as they stared not at her, but at her hands. Taryn looked down and saw why they were so speechless.

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. But I don’t need to use my hands as guides anymore. See?” Taryn focused on the knot that held the restraint in place. She willed it loose and removed the whole apparatus from around her hands and waist. “I can do it all in my head now.” Taryn smiled to ease her parents but it wasn’t working. Their emotions had settled long enough for her to identify. Her smile faded as her mind tuned into their thoughts. “You’re…afraid of me?”

They didn’t answer her.

“Don’t be afraid.” Taryn took a step toward them. “I’m still –”

Her parents stepped back. Her mother held Nayt tighter.

Then their thoughts hit her. They came in fast and fragmented, frightened and fierce. She pressed her hands against her ears to block out what their minds screamed at her but the words still came.

‘…can’t avoid this …have to fix this …she’ll have to go …getting worse …too dangerous…’

“No! I’m not – Don’t say that!” Taryn tried to speak over them but nothing could save her from the truth.

‘…find a way to stop her …can’t keep her… can’t stay here like this…’

Taryn didn’t know how to keep their thoughts from reaching her so she turned and bolted through the door. As she put some distance between them, she realized that she had been wrong. Nayt’s pained tears didn’t hurt nearly as much as her own.