The flying lessons continued but Juniper didn’t show up. She didn’t appear for any of the other lessons either. No doubt so Tufani couldn’t corner her to ask about her absence. She didn’t even return to the hut to sleep and be warm. Instead, from what Prevna told me, she had truly holed up in the nook on the back end of the lake.

I’m not sure what she thought that would accomplish but it was clear that this time my brand of motivation hadn’t worked. Unless, of course, Juniper was being so stubborn partially out of spite for me and my comments about her lot in life. Then I would have just motivated her in the wrong direction.

Tufani gave it two days before she thumped after Prevna to her hidey hole. I practiced with my spear near the nesting grounds and watched as Ento and Idra followed behind not long after. I had just switched to sling practice when the four of them returned, weaving their way around the nests without Juniper anywhere insight. Idra had a black eye though which I found more than a bit satisfying.

Prevna caught sight of me and waved for me to stay put before motioning that she’d tell me about what happened later. I shrugged and went back to practicing. I wasn’t in the mood to get in an argument with Idra. Besides, learning about whatever drama was unfolding secondhand sounded much more appealing than having to deal with the others.

She filled me in during the evening meal as we sat slightly apart from everyone else around the cooking fire. Apparently, Tufani had been making progress with Juniper in her no nonsense but understanding way when Ento and Idra arrived. They were supposedly there to check on her but, instead, Idra made everything worse by accusing Juniper of listening to everyone but them, not caring about her and Ento, being self-absorbed…the list went on. Tufani cut Idra off but not before Juniper sprinted out of the hole and punched her in the face. Ento made a wry comment about seeing and believing that managed to be a bit of a rebuke to both of her companions, and then Tufani marched them away from Juniper’s lair before the situation could get worse. Then the pair got lectured at her hut and sent away. In contrast, Prevna got praised for showing the Tamer the way and doing what she could to help her cohort.

I didn’t exactly want to encourage Prevna’s meddling but I also couldn’t ignore the expectant look in her eyes as she said the last part. So I asked a question instead, “Why do you care so much about what happens with Juniper?”

The light in Prevna’s dimmed, which I didn’t like, before it came back with a mischievous smile.

“She reminds me of you.”

I blinked back at her.

That hadn’t been the response I was expecting. Thankfully sometimes my tongue could be quicker than my mind. “Then she should be able to take care of herself.”

Which, based on what I had seen, wasn’t really true. Juniper needed her crumbling support system while I had always been fine on my own.

Prevna leaned a little bit closer. “But she shouldn’t have to. Not all the time.”

A different image of Prevna flashed in my mind. Similar position, still sitting cross legged, leaning sidelong on one hand close to me, but this time she was close enough that our noses were nearly touching and her hair was unbound and tickling my arm and—

I crushed the image into a pulp, shoved it back in the sack it belonged in, made another thick sack with my mind and threw the original sack into that one before tying the whole mess shut tight and stuck it back in the shadowy corner of my memory tent where it belonged.

There was no way I was going to let my mind ruin anything else. I already had the memories to control. I didn’t need it conjuring up other unpredictable images that I didn’t know how deal with.

“Gimley?”

I flinched back and then internally winced as the sudden movement caused her to flinch to. Prevna recovered and pressed me, “You got that faraway look in your eyes like you do in…small spaces. Did I—?”

“No,” I cut her off. “I’m fine.”

She kept her distance even though I could tell she wanted get close and comfort me. “But—what happened then?”

I didn’t have the convenient excuse of healing bringing up complicated emotions this time but there was no way I was going to admit to the stupid image my mind had conjured unless the goddess personally decreed it. So I had to settle for a much less convincing explanation, “Just thinking.”

We both knew she didn’t believe the excuse but she stopped pressing me for an answer with a sigh and one last question, “Would you tell me if I did?”

I huffed out a laugh. “You couldn’t trigger a memory if you tried.”

Prevna’s eyebrows drew together at the admission before relief broke across her face and she grinned. I cursed myself for being an idiot and a stupid fool who admitted to something I shouldn’t have. How many times did I have to remind myself that she was too close as it was? Any more and I was basically asking for her to hurt me with the sheer amount of options I had given her.

Prevna brushed her fingers against my arm, the faintest of touches as if she was afraid she’d actually trigger a memory if she pushed too soon despite what I said. “Thank you.”

I nodded, not meeting her gaze, and we left it at that.

- -

That night went sideways in a way no one could expect. It started when I was getting some last minute shadow walking practice in before twilight fell. Prevna was with me too. Comfortable with practicing in silence and exchanging the occasional bit of advice. I still hadn’t fully grasped the pointer that Esie had given me but I thought I was getting closer to it.

Picturing the shadows as pools of water came easily now and I could slip into and out of them quicker than before. Maybe not instantly like a lot of the whisper women, but within two or three breaths.

Now I was focusing on traveling to trees further and further away, though so far that was mostly underlining how much easier it was to travel to the feathered goddess grown tree than to any other in the vicinity.

We decided to do one last trip from the feathered tree back down to the lower level to make our walk back to the hut quicker. When I stepped out of the shadow of a large pine the night was no longer quiet.

Notes filled the air despite sounding distant. Music notes—but the Heartsong Festival was over and no one would dare to defy the goddess so blatantly. And they weren’t from an Echo’s sticks or someone singing. They were something I had never heard—

No. I had.

I had heard it in the clearing with the bicolored trees when the wind played across its strings. I had heard it up close when Breck tested the goddess’s patience by plucking out a few notes.

The harp cradled in the hand of the goddess’s often ignored sister.

Its accidental music had rarely reached as far as the Rookery since we arrived, but now the soft notes seemed to ignore the distance and they were…more purposeful. Like someone who knew how to play had gotten their hands on it.

My eyelids drooped at the same time Prevna reached out to brace herself on my shoulder. I stumbled from the sudden weight but caught myself as screams ripped through the air.

Forcing away the sudden tiredness I stared up in horror as some of the storm birds who had been flying above the Rookery—there were always a handful at least—began to plummet. A couple managed to catch themselves before they crashed…others didn’t.

One plummeted into the lower lake with a giant splash while the crack of bones breaking followed another that barely avoided hitting the village.

People were screaming and birds were screeching but, despite that, I found my eyelids drooping with tiredness again. I pinched the back of one hand to force myself awake. We couldn’t sleep in the open. That’d be asking for frostbite or worse.

The Rookery tribe would hopefully know how to help the birds. My main priority was getting Prevna to warmth and safety in the hut. Then it would be time to curse and wonder about how the harp was putting everyone to sleep and how in the storming curse of it all I was supposed to get the thing to stop. I doubted the unnatural tiredness could be from anything else.

I pulled Prevna’s hand from my shoulder and tucked her arm under mine instead. It’d make for more prolonged contact than I’d prefer but that was tolerable when the other option meant she’d likely be have draped over my shoulders. I dragged her forward.

“Gimley…”

“Just walk.”

We stumbled again as another wave of drowsiness washed over us and the snow was looking more and more like a comfortable bedroll. Once I caught my balance again I dragged Prevna forward again and gave her a task to do.

“Talk. Try to drown it out. Maybe it’ll be easier to stay awake that way.”

She talked. Chided me for acting like I had to make all the decisions, worried about the birds, cursed the music and prayed to the goddess to make it stop. None of it worked. The harp kept playing and no matter how loudly she talked or screamed the notes reached our ears. The screams and screeches from all around the Rookery were weakening, fading out, and I doubted it was because everyone had gotten the help they needed. The hold the music had on us was strengthening as it continued.

I gritted my teeth and pushed on. What normally would have been around a ten minute straight walk to the hut was turning into something significantly more weaving and slow. The minutes dragged by as we tried to keep each other upright and alert. Once I caught Prevna walking with her eyes closed as she leaned on me and I had to jab my elbow into her ribs to get her to open them again.

Since trying to ignore and drown out the storming music hadn’t worked I tried focusing on it instead. The pull on my eyelids was immediate but I kept placing one slit-eyed step front of the other until I recognized a pattern. There was a point in the music when the notes would fade, like it was the end of a song fading into the night, and that’s when the tiredness would swell the most and nearly drag us under. Then the music would swell like the harp was starting another round to build up its lure again.

After that it was easier to time our sleep prevention tactics for that unnatural large pull, but neither of us could deny that we wouldn’t last too much longer. Really, at the point, the only keeping me going was the knowledge that Prevna had the ability to die. I didn’t know what was keeping her awake but she could be surprisingly stubborn when she wanted to be.

We walked and stumbled and lurched until we finally, finally reached our hut’s door flap. The tied shut door flap. After a quick debate that mostly consisted me slapping Prevna’s hands away from the knots, Prevna helped prop me up while I gave the tied ropes my full attention.

It took longer than I’d like to admit but I got the flap open. We shuffled inside and Prevna immediately dropped onto the bedroll closest to us. I wished I could join her but the now that we were inside the door flap had to be closed again or it’d do next to nothing to keep the cold out.

I scowled at the blasted piece of fabric as I put all of my focus on retying the knots I had just pulled loose. Highest one first. One string and then the other. The knot wasn’t pretty or as secure as I normally would have done but it’d have to do. I got another tied together and a third, but I was on my knees by the fourth, eyes closed more often than open, and the thin bits of rope slipped from my fingers as the darkness finally crumbled my resistance and pulled me into sleep.