Rain. Of course it had to rain. Why wouldn’t it?

  And so, Llew laughed.

  There was little she could do but allow her blood to keep flowing Karlani’s way. So she did. She sighed. She laughed under her breath.

  Everyone else switched into action. Rowan led Edwyn and Ianto to the shed for some sort of cover. Jonas stepped beneath the Ajnai tree that offered Llew some shelter from the rain drops, but as they grew in frequency, more drops slid through the leaves, growing in size and hitting the ground or Llew with some force. Jonas’s shirt was already soaked through.

  “You can’t afford to waste energy of being cold and wet,” she said. “You should get inside. Sleep in a proper bed.”

  Jonas grimaced at the suggestion, but Llew was right and he had no come back. Llew scrambled up and puckered her lips for a chaste kiss.

  “Alright.” Jonas met her kiss, patting her shoulder. “Goodnight. Get some sleep if you can.”

  “Hmm.” That would depend how long it took to get Karlani up to strength. Llew was wary of thinking on it too closely. Even contemplating the cost of healing Karlani at the most shallow level of thought set her stomach clenching with anger. A stupid, stupid joke.

  Jonas reluctantly headed indoors and Rowan returned with the two Turhmos soldiers – ex-soldiers – carrying a tarpaulin and some poles, thin rope, and pegs like large, hooked nails. They set about hooking the tarpaulin over Llew. She had to sit again to get under its cover.

  Karlani moved to sit beneath the cover as well. Practically, it was a sensible move, as Garnoc and Delwynn could just sit between Llew and Karlani, handing syringes between them. Didn’t mean Llew had to like the arrangement, and she let the Syakaran woman know with dark glares when she dared look her way at all.

  By the time the tarpaulin was firmly tied to the tree’s trunk, the poles, and the ground, the rain had really set in, soaking everyone except Llew and Karlani, and drowning out any attempt at conversation. Rowan crouched by Llew in an effort to hear and be heard. They agreed it unlikely Turhmos soldiers would strike under these conditions, still they would keep two on watch. Alvaro agreed to be one, and Ianto also volunteered, as well as agreeing to swap out with Garnoc or Delwynn as needed, which allowed Rowan and Edwyn to head into the dry indoors. Llew insisted they keep one person awake at all times – allow Jonas to sleep, but monitor him.

  With those arrangements in place, Llew’s world shrunk to the needle repeatedly breaking her skin and the tree continuously healing her. All else was the drumming rain and the trickle of converged drops pouring from the canopy. She tuned out from the people around her and turned her focus to the tree. What more could it convey regarding Braph’s intentions and progress? The initial shock of his already being in Taither had subsided, so she could now approach the situation with more sensible inquiry. Had he hurt the Taither Ajnai?

  An intense ache thrummed through her palm pressed to the bark, she felt , then a baby’s anguished cry filled her head. And once more, Braph’s face floated before her. She snapped her hand from the tree, causing the needle in her other arm to twist and tear beneath her skin. Delwynn’s hand brushed her and he hissed at the burn. Llew covered her face with her hands and breathed, blocking out all else. Even if Braph wasn’t hurting her tree – her baby – their history left an indelible mark on her very being. Just seeing a vague image of him made her feel ill, angry, and tormented. But he was hurting her tree and her baby’s soul. And he had her mother with him.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She looked happy.

  Could her ma afford to appear otherwise? Was her mother even in control of her own feelings? With the power now afforded him by his own son’s blood, Braph could exert control over anyone. Surely, if her mother felt anything for the man, it was false. How could it be aught else?

  So much for sensible. Braph rattled her. Just thinking of him made her skin crawl; every thought accompanied by memories of lying helplessly beneath him, of being strapped to his chair, of machines crawling over her. Machines that could now fly.

  Keeping her face covered, Llew breathed deep, purposeful breaths, well aware of Karlani’s and Delwynn’s attention. There was no sensible when it came to Braph. She couldn’t do it. That ache in her hand suggested he had done something to the tree. Made a hole? Did he think poking a finger into it would allow him to do what merely touching could not? Llew imagined the tree healing itself around his finger, rendering him stuck. The thought filled her with glee and she laughed into her hands. Could the tree do that? Could it heal itself the way they allowed Aenuks to?

  She returned one hand to the bark behind her and waved Delwynn back for now. “Just a moment.” She focused on her tree in Taither, concentrating on blocking out everything around it. Just the tree. And a baby’s squeal. Not a frightened sound. Like a child’s delight as their mother bends over the walls of the cradle. Her heart filled with the love and ache she carried for that soul. And she realized she hadn’t named her child. Her children. She would. When she and Jonas returned to the tree, she would take with her names for each of them, even the one that lay silent. But, for now, she hushed the child’s spirit.

  The trees didn’t usually heal themselves. They provided the power for Aenuks to heal. They lived, until they were felled by the Quavens. Llew didn’t know how trees were made, or how they might heal a hole, but not knowing the how hadn’t stopped her before. It seemed to be much more about gathering the available power and directing it with a will. She supposed that was what Br— No. Don’t think it. Stop. Breathe. Ajnai tree. A tree in contact with every other living thing on Phyos. Usually just a channel for power. Now Llew asked it to direct some of that power inward. Regrow what had been cut out from the inside out or the outside in. It didn’t matter. Just grow and heal. Be different. Defiant.

  A sense of resolve flowed through her from her contact with the tree. She had no idea of whether the tree could accelerate its healing. And it would remain a tree, fixed in location, unable to fight as a human, or any animal could, but it was part of a consciousness far greater than Llew could fathom. And that consciousness had a power all its own.

  So, while she didn’t know exactly what the tree would do, Llew was satisfied that it had the tools to protect itself as best it could.

  Then she formed an image of Jonas in her mind, wrapped it up in the concept of fatherhood – the best she could remember of her own father – and pushed it toward the baby’s soul. The tree, too, received the message, but it meant more to the child, so Llew directed it there. He is sick and needs your help. She recalled him, on the outskirts of Northhollow, too tired to stand. We’re coming. I hope you can help.

  An image of Jonas as he had been at their children’s funeral and the tree’s planting came unbidden to her mind: whole, hale, and too heartbroken to speak. Then she was enveloped in Jonas’s heat, as though she was curled in the palm of his hand. Her mind even filled with an image of Jonas’s face, giant, engulfing her world. A memory from the baby? Had Jonas held it? A lump filled her throat. It was bad enough these children had passed from her body while she was barely conscious. She’d nearly accepted they were gone, too small to be consequential in the physical world. But Jonas had held one? Perhaps not. Perhaps the baby was projecting a concept, not a memory. How their child’s soul knew him.