“What kind of sickness, exactly?”
Demetrius said, “It’s something magical, certainly, and as far as any lifecaster can tell it’s just…draining the river. Not just of water but of life. I got knocked out when I tried to lifecast near it.”
“Jessica doesn’t know what it is?” This idea shocked Dagan even as he said it. To have a threat so strange and unknown that even the Head Verder didn’t know what it was… “This is worse than I thought, then.”
Demetrius nodded. “We were going to bring it up tomorrow, after you had a fun night and a good sleep, but—”
“No, I’m glad you did.”
Demetrius bit at his bottom lip. “Hope we didn’t ruin anything. I mean, your mood. Tonight.”
Dagan shook his head. “I planned to spend it meditating and connecting with the grove, actually,” he admitted. It had, of course, been Innan’s suggestion. He wished Innan would come to more parties for his sake, but was glad they didn’t, for theirs. Even if they looked like a forest god when dancing.
“Will wonders never cease,” Alonza muttered.
Dagan shot him a dirty look. “Well I had multiple offers for companionship, but I do mean to take scouting seriously, O Perfect One.”
Demetrius squeezed his arm. “You’ll be great at it. I mean, I know we just met, but I can already tell you’ll have a knack for it.”
“How has my brother not crushed your sweet spirit yet?” Dagan asked.
Demetrius laughed. Alonza made a face. They were adorable together, and though Dagan experienced a little spike of envy for his brother—not for the first time and certainly not for the last—he was also genuinely happy for Alonza.
Maybe some of that sweetness would rub off on him. Eventually. Someday.
They parted ways on the path, Dagan continuing toward the grove, Alonza and Demetrius back to the house. Dagan walked slowly, occasionally reaching out to brush his fingers over a drooping branch, heavy with leaves, or the rough bark of some ancient trees he’d known his entire life. Moonlight filtered silver through gaps in the canopy, bathing the trees in a pale glow. He could’ve found his way in the dark without it, but he enjoyed it all the same.
When the trees became more uniform, thinner, younger, planted in something like rows, Dagan stepped off the path to weave through the lithe black walnut trunks. Here, the moonlight was less filtered, since the trees were so young and delicate. The flowers were drooping now, the scent from the young fruits and bark just a little spicy—the smell of home. The trunks grew thicker and the trees farther apart, and Dagan slowed and settled against one of the larger ones. He took his time unlacing his boots and peeling them off, wiggling his toes.
Just as he leaned his head back against the tree, he heard his name being called from the direction of the path. “Dags! Dagaaaaaan!”
“Alexia?” he called back, uncertain.
“Yes! And Erron! Where are you?” came another familiar voice.
Dagan opened his belt pouch and produced a little beeswax candle, which he lit with his flint. “What are you two doing out here?” he called, figuring between his voice and the candle, they were clever enough to find him. They knew the grove as well as he did; maybe better, since they claimed to want to run the place after Mother and Father retired.
“We saw Alonza and that handsome boy.” Alexia, at fifteen years old the shortest and slightest of all their siblings, stumbled on a branch and then swore.
Erron, her twin, best friend, and occasional minion, was at least a foot taller than her already. He caught her arm before she went all the way down. “Careful, Lex.”
She huffed and waved him off. “I’m fine. We were waiting for you to come back, but we didn’t think you’d be alone.”
“So we weren’t going to follow you into the grove until Alonza said you were,” Erron finished. He took something from his shoulder, like a shawl or blanket, and held it out. “Here!”
“Idiot, at least explain it,” Alexia hissed.
“You said to just give it to him.” Erron frowned.
Chuckling, Dagan set his candle aside and gestured for them to join him. “What is it?”
Alexia knelt next to him, then sat back on her heels. Erron sat facing him, legs pulled up lotus-style, so his knees almost touched Dagan’s. He laid the soft, light blanket over their laps.
Dagan reached out to finger it; it was fine work, and he’d know it anywhere. “Did you spin this?”
Erron grinned proudly. “All of it myself. And then Lex wove it into a blanket for you.”
Dagan lifted it by the corners and shook it out; it was easily big enough to keep two people warm on a fall evening, downy-soft and light, perfect for carrying in his scout pack.
The party had been expected; while it had been largely impromptu, Dagan’s friends in the settlement never let an opportunity to drink, dance, and otherwise carouse pass them by. But something like this, which had obviously taken moons of planning and execution, not to mention the fineness of the work and material, from his two youngest and frankly silliest siblings…this was very unexpected. “This is what you two have been whispering frantically about?”
They nodded in unison.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Lex shrugged but couldn’t hide the pleased little smile tugging at her lips and eyes. “You won’t need it yet, but we wanted to give it to you anyhow. To celebrate.”
“We’re proud of you, Dags,” Erron said.
Dagan hugged the blanket to his chest. “Thank you. I was a little worried about sleeping so long without a roof over my head, truth be told. This will be very helpful.”
“That’s what I told him,” Alexia said. “Practical enough to be useful but fancy enough to be proud of.”
“I wanted to get you a pony from Grassland Conservancy, but everyone said that was no use to a scout.” Erron frowned. “Anyhow, I don’t know how to get a pony.”
“No need.” Dagan laughed. “A scout should be able to carry everything they need in their pack.”
“We’ll let you meditate.” Erron sat up on his knees and leaned over for an oddly-angled hug. Laughing, Dagan got up on his knees too, and they embraced properly.
