Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 11b

I took several deep breaths, shook my head, and pushed off from the tree. My melancholy steps took me to Zelly's garden, where I found her leaning against a wooden rake, wiping her brow. She saw me and motioned me to the shaded stump with a large smile on her face.

"Perfect timing," she said, dabbing her face with her sleeve. "It was time for a break. How are you, Siena?"

I flicked at the frayed edges of the remaining hat in my hands. "I'm okay."

Zelly immediately noticed my obvious mood. "What's the matter?"

"I accidentally made someone sad."

She pursed her lips. "Accidents will happen. Would you like to talk about it?"

I shook my head and turned the hat over in my hands.

"All right then. I'm here for you, if you ever need to." Her voice was warm and sincere.

"The Forestfolk, is everyone here . . ." I struggled to find the right word. "Broken? I mean, from broken relationships, or families torn apart?"

Zelly cocked her head. "What a curious question. Not all who come are separated from loved ones. Though I would hazard to guess most of us are."

"What about you?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

She smiled sadly, and I immediately regretted my question.

"No, never mind," I stammered. "You don't have to answer. I ask nosy questions." I sighed and flopped back against the shed.

She regarded me for a moment. "Siena, if people want to talk about something, they will. All they need is a little prompt, and someone to listen."

She fell silent, giving me time to consider her words. I tipped my head back against the shed and looked up at the sky. The garden provided a break in the trees and an unobstructed view of the blue void above. I imagined an entire family with sky blue eyes, and I wondered if she had to leave them behind.

"I did have a husband once." Zelly picked at a sliver of wood on her tree stump. "We wanted to start a family, but didn't want to raise a child in an uneasy landscape where even Icelings weren't safe from the pillaging Plainsmen. So we sought a safer place." Her hands stilled. "But Arvin fell ill and perished, leaving me to fend for myself."

"And that's when you found Foresthome?"

"That's when they found me," she corrected. "Much like they found you."

"The lost are found again," I murmured, echoing Remi's words.

Zelly nodded.

I plucked at one of the frayed ends of the hat, adjusting it and closing a gap in the weave. "Do you still miss him?"

"Sometimes," she answered. "But it's been years now, and his memory is fading."

"Do you . . ." I hesitated again. "Do you feel lonely?"

"I've got this fertile soil and these beautiful vegetables. And now I've got you. How could I be?" She gave me a warm smile, though there was a tiredness about it that led me to believe maybe she wasn't being completely honest.

"I made you a hat," I said, deciding to leave the sad topic behind us.

"Did you now? Well, let's have a look." She tilted the woven hat this way and that, as if appraising its value.

I sat there watching her, chewing on my lip. Maybe she thought it was shabby.

"Where did you learn to make this?" she asked. "I know those sun-loving Plainsmen wouldn't know the first thing."

"My mother. She knew how to make a lot of things."

"Well, she was a fine teacher. Reminds me of home." She flipped the hat onto her head and pulled it into place. "Lovely. You are a dear. Let's put this hat through its paces and dig us some rows, shall we?"

We were on our second furrow when Galen appeared. "I see you have an apprentice!" he called out. His smile gleamed in the sunlight.

Zelly looked up, her eyes wide with surprise and her breath quickening. I followed her gaze to Galen, who stood by the garden shading his eyes from the sun.

"Galen, what brings you here?" Her voice sounded calm, but with a slight breathlessness.

"Mother was wondering if you had a carrot to spare. She's trying out a new poultice today."

"Yes, of course," Zelly said a little too quickly. "I should have a few ready. How is Ruba?" She strode to a patch of long green stems and pulled on one of the clusters.

"She is doing well. The sick and wounded keep her busy, which is a good thing."

A long, pale carrot popped out into Zelly's hand. "There we are," she said as she handed it to him, hastily wiping her flustered hands onto her smock.

"Perfect." He smiled again. I secretly thought he was referring to his teeth, because I'd never seen teeth that perfect before. "That hat looks well on you."

"Oh! That would be Siena's handiwork." Her fingers brushed its brim. "It's nice to have a touch of home on my head."

"I'm glad you're settling in nicely, Siena. Foresthome now has two beautiful Icelings to dazzle us." With a wink and a dip of his head, he headed back to the trail.

Zelly walked back to where I stood, almost stumbling on the uneven ground.

I looked at her flushed face and asked, "Does Galen make you nervous?"

"Nervous?" She laughed shakily. "I think Galen makes all the girls nervous."

"What about him? He doesn't get nervous?"

"Him?" Zelly snorted. "That man is confidence personified. Nothing makes him nervous."

"Do you . . ." I bit my lip, wondering if I was overstepping. "Do you wish you made him nervous?"

She looked at me as if the thought had never occurred to her. "Well, now, that would be something, wouldn't it?"

As we returned to the task of digging furrows, a thought niggled into my mind. I continued digging until I couldn't help myself from asking, "Does it bother you that he's . . . gifted?"

"Bother me? Why would it?"

"I don't know, because it's not natural?"

She turned an unexpectedly stern eye to me. "Now, those are the Plainsmen talking. I expect you heard nothing but poison growing up where you did, but know this: The Gifted are just like you and me, only they've been endowed with the wondrous ability to tap into a part of nature that none of us can. Do you understand?"

I almost told her about myself right then and there. Instead, I swallowed the impulse and nodded. I felt so confused. Growing up as an Aberration, looked down upon as a freak and something less than everyone else, it had left a stain. One I couldn't seem to scrub off, no matter what these wonderful people told me.

The things we choose to tell people matter a great deal. So be kind. (And vote!)