Cascadia

1. Elysium

Keana Miller leaned back against her favorite cedar tree, sinking her hands into the soft, cool dirt. Closing her eyes, she basked in the grounding energy pulsing up her arms and through her body. She'd already finished her morning chores of collecting eggs, milking the goats, and watering the garden, leaving little else to do but to sit and enjoy the stillness of the morning as she waited for the others to begin their day.

She'd spent a lot of time sitting beneath this old tree throughout her seventeen years of existence, usually awaiting her mother to finish doing the chores – or some random stranger. Keana used to come here with her mom back when she was a young girl. Every Saturday they would sit in the grass and have picnics together. Of course, it had been many years since they'd shared in that old mother/daughter tradition of picnicking beneath the shady branches, but Keana still loved coming here. It was like visiting an old friend.

Shafts of early morning light cut through the damp mist, stretching across the grass to focal point on an enormous log cabin known as Heart House. It had been named such because it served as the 'heart' of the deeply spiritual community known as Elysium. It wasn't a cult per se, more like an amalgamated family of agrarians, yogis, free-spirits, hippies, and outcasts. Formed back in the seventies by some back-to-the-land types seeking to flee the stress and strain of urban life, Elysium managed to thrive over the years to become a highly recommended destination for every nomad, road warrior, artisan, spiritualist, and burnout west of the Rockies. The farm was completely sustainable with solar power and multiple wells, each equipped with stations for the catching and filtration of rain and snow water. They had acreage to grow their own food and raise their own livestock, and vast forests of trees which could be felled for lumber to build small, single-room cabins and for firewood to heat those same cabins during the long winter months. At the far end of the property, set away from the comings and goings of Elysium's permanent residents, was a large patch of land dedicated solely for folks passing through; a place where van-dwellers and camping enthusiasts could stay indefinitely. Around the farm, these temporary occupants who came and went as they pleased were commonly (and affectionately) known as Wandering Stars.

She observed the house, squinting to catch any signs of life happening beyond the cabin's reflective windows. From this distance, it was nearly impossible to tell if there was any movement within. She allowed the damp soil to seep up between her fingers, feeling its coarseness as she waited.

There was one particular boy she hoped to see emerge from the house. His name was Jarred Pembrook, though everyone knew him as Odell. He'd visited the farm with his parents a little over two years ago and wound up staying once his folks developed a taste for the communal living experience. A sense of family. The cooperative spirit. Good drugs. Wild sex. All of these played a part in luring the Pembrook family out to the Washington forests and keeping them there. Lately though, it seemed the dull patina of reality had tarnished the allure of the lifestyle for Odell's family because at the end of the month, Odell would be moving on to some oppressive Seattle suburb ruled by the mighty dollar. Keana had grown close to Odell over the last two years and, if asked, she might have said they were best friends. She really, really liked Odell and felt pangs of sadness at the thought of his leaving. It was this very sadness she attempted to channel deep into the earth that morning.

Mari was the first to step out of the house and greet the morning. Scarcely breaking five-foot-two, Mari was a sprite of a woman, always wearing her sun-faded blond hair in two long braids draped over her shoulders. Her brightly colored dresses were homemade and hung loosely over her heavy frame to allow for maximum airflow and movement. Authority. Hierarchy. These concepts were discouraged at Elysium, but if there was any one person who came closest to being in charge without officially taking up the mantle of 'leader,' it was Mari. She was like everyone's surrogate mother – homeschooling the children, nursing the sick back to health, keeping everyone on task with chores and other duties, mediating petty squabbles, and even going as far as to expel some of the rare troublemakers from the homestead.